Show and Tell: Curtain Call OR Thoughts on Cost

I talked to the lady at the upscale fabric store the other day - the one I had to leave empty handed, with visions of two-hundred dollar curtains dancing in my head - about how satisfying, but surprisingly time and money-inefficient, it is to make your own things. I was honest about how overwhelmed I was at the cost of their beautiful fabric and the cost of my new-found hobbies in general. I pointed out how, when you factor in the raw cost of high-quality products and the hours it takes to put them together yourself, I often end up paying more than I would for a pre-made product in a store.

She pointed out that this is because, most often, the things we buy are made for pennies an hour at factories overseas.

Which got me thinking about how we hardly ever have to face, let alone pay for, the true cost of the things we buy and use. And how far removed we've become from the processes that create the things we need. Here is someone who has a few things to say about it that I wouldn't dare try to paraphrase.

A few months ago (yes, it's only been 2.5 months since my move!), as I looked ahead to trading a large salary for a lot more time in my daily life, I figured I would balance things by using my extra time to make things for myself that I had been purchasing . . . like, for example, hats, and mittens, and curtains. And dinner. But I also intended to really think about the raw products I was buying - and not only in terms of their quality and value for me, but also in terms of where they come from and all of the ethical implications that encompasses. And it's certainly been a more expensive endeavor that I expected, in a strictly monetary sense.

And yet . . . how do I measure the value of making these things myself? The satisfaction seems immeasurable - and I'm not just talking about the pride of a finished product, which is enormous, but also the difference that the process makes in my lifestyle. Yesterday, I got to spend my day sewing and listening to my favorite records as my roommates came and went. I've spent entire Sundays sitting by a fire and knitting with friends. I will often spend an hour in the kitchen with my housemates preparing a nutritious meal together of raw, local ingredients I bought at the co-op. I'm not only making my own curtains and winter-wear and soup . . . in the process, I'm actually making my life how I want it.

Here are the fruits of a day and a half's [leisurely] labor (don't ask how much they cost):

Show and Tell: One Giant Step

It finally happened.

You've watched me picking up speed over the past few weeks, and now it's official: I've broken through the scarf-hat barrier! I'm now moving at the speed of mittens! A whole new world of knitting has opened up to me, friends. Behold: I can shape things! I can read a pattern (sort of, with lots of help from the internet and the friendly folks at my favorite yarn store)! I can K2tog and Kfb! And, most importantly, I can keep my hands warm during this cold, rainy winter. Tadah!

Show and Tell: Charley Harper is My New BFF

I finally splurged on a book I have long dreamed of finding, and I'm already soaking every penny of happiness out of it. Here are some highlights from Charley Harper: An Illustrated Life:

In the Kitchen: Rainy Day Vegetable Chowder

Yesterday, during the first of the many cold, rainy days I've been told to expect all winter, I embraced the weather, tied up my apron strings, and hunkered down for a day of bread baking and chowder making. Here's my new favorite recipe from my new favorite book:

Show and Tell: Bear Hat!

In the Kitchen: Festival Spice Muffins!

Here is a super easy, delicious recipe for Festival Spice Muffins from The Tassajara Bread Book:

[Makes 12 muffins]

2 cups whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon ginger *

1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup oil OR melted butter
1/2 cup honey OR molasses
1 1/2 cups milk

"Combine the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl combine the wet ingredients. Fold the wet and dry ingredients together with as few strokes as possible, just until the flour is moistened, leaving a few lumps. Spoon into greased muffin tins and bake at 400 degrees for about 15 minutes."

* These ingredients are what make them festival-spicey. If you omit these spices, you have the regular Whole Wheat Muffin Recipe.

Show and Tell: First Hat & Pumpkin Hat!

Hey friends, it's time for our new Show and Tell series!

First, an introduction, explanation, and disclaimer: As many of you already know, it may be an understatement to say that I've been something of a homebody/domestic enthusiast lately. The main events of my days have been baking pies, cooking soups, and knitting hats . . . and I love it. And I want to show my stuff off. And what is "blogging" if not the creation of a small, public universe of which I am the center? What better forum to show off my own accomplishments to the people I love most?

Also, on a slightly less self-centered note - I think it's time that domesticity got a little positive publicity. It was, in large part, my self-prescribed summer reading diet of Barbara Kingsolver, Wendell Berry, and Michael Pollan that inspired my recent life change and landed me here in Portland with enough free hours to pursue my domestic goals. I strongly believe that re-connecting to the processes that sustain us, paying attention to and taking control of what we consume and where it comes from, and re-learning many of the basic skills we need to sustain ourselves (i.e. producing food and clothing) are among the most essential and empowering life projects we can undertake. The way they've been devalued, especially in regards to "women's work" or "housewife-ery" is a shame. So, basically, I'm just excited to share a little bit of the joy and pride that these projects are bringing me.

Phew! Now you're fully prepped to interpret my knitting projects for the politically charged, revolutionary acts that they are. And you thought they were just hats! Here goes:

Hat #1: This was my first knitting project of the season, my first hat in years. Tadah!

Hat #2: My pumpkin hat! I'm really proud of this one.
And, coming next time . . . .

I'm planning this hat:

But in my size, and in these colors:

Stay tuned!

Thoughts on Transitions

I think that transitions may be the very hardest thing. There's plenty of talk about change being inevitable, and difficult - but it seems to me that once we're in something, it's surprising what we can adjust to, and how quickly. And even like what we thought we might not. I'm pretty sure it's the transition part, the part when you see the change coming but it's not there yet, that's by far the hardest.

I mean here I am, sitting in the middle of this huge transition in my life - both geographically and emotionally - with nothing else to do for a few more days except consciously transition . . . and I can't figure out what I'm supposed to be doing or thinking. Sometimes I think the job is to figure out a way to start making the shift happen gradually, while I'm still here, but I can't figure out how. It seems like no matter what I do, inevitably, I will be here until the moment that I am not, and then suddenly I won't be.

So if there's no beating around that actual moment when the change happens, what does transition mean? Is it about preparing yourself, reducing shock? I've been thinking a lot about how, as a teacher, transitions are also the hardest part of a class period, and doing it well basically means telling kids something new is about to happen as many times as possible before it actually does. "May I have your attention? We are going to clean up in 10 minutes. You have 10 minutes left to work before we clean up" . . . "Class? This is your 5 minute warning, in 5 minutes we are going to . . . " Like that. Maybe I could enlist someone to help me out with that, it's not like all my friends aren't teachers . . . "Meredith, you have 4 days left in New Orleans. In 4 days, you will get in your car and start driving west, so please make sure you are finished by then."

Or maybe transitioning is more about being in the present, or even looking backward, than looking ahead - which in some crucial ways entirely changes the point of the transition. If the point of the 5-Minute-Warning Model is to reduce emotional stress, then the point of the Linger -and-Look-Back Model is to bring on the full onslaught of nostalgia and heartbreak. To truly say goodbye, as best you can, before moving on. And I think I want that part too, but it's hard to self-inflict and hard to know where to start. The love that I have for this place and my people here, and the ways that I've grown and changed in the past 3 years, seem too big to try to collect all at once. I guess I'm just trying to open myself up to the bits and pieces of nostalgia that will float my way over the next 4 days, and do my best with those.

My last thought, for now (I don't know the rules of sharing these thoughts yet, have I already bored or confused anyone else who might read this?), is that transitions are also about deciding what to bring. This was true for me last week, in a very literal sense: I managed to reduce an apartments' worth of belongings to simply a Honda Civic's worth, which involved looking every thing I owned in the eye and deciding whether I would miss it if it were gone. Phew.

But now, even though all of my possessions fit neatly in the car, I'm still feel like I'm figuring out what to hold on to from my life in New Orleans. People, certainly; there are plenty of people that I will most definitely not be letting go of. But what about the ways I've changed, the person that I've become here? In some ways, I feel like I'm trying to move back in time and become a little less of an adult with this move. In other ways, it feels like this move is exactly about figuring out what kind of adult I want to be. I guess really, I'm attempting to go back in time for the things I forgot to bring with me into adulthood. Like maybe roommates, and leisure time, for starters. But I'd also like to spend some time thinking about what I'm bringing with me from my time in New Orleans, the stuff that doesn't take up any room in the backseat.

Thoughts on Offering Assistance

They told me this on my flight back to New Orleans:

"If you are sitting next to someone who requires assistance, put your mask on first. Then, offer assistance."

I've come back to this thought more than once in the week since, especially when the guilt of quitting starts to seep in. In fact, if my motivation for quitting could be summed up in one sentence, this may well be it. Thanks, ExpressJet.