Archive for April, 2009

You know that spring has officially arrived when find yourself piecing together a sun hat on a Sunday morning and the doors to the house are wide open and your husband is whipping up some breakfast burritos and very innocently blasting Jimi Hendrix directly into the church services taking place across the street…and the whole scene just feels too good and too fresh and too spring-like to turn down the music or shut the doors.

Forgive us churchgoers that your prayers went up to the big guy with a soundtrack of Foxy Lady, but we just couldn’t help ourselves….its been a long, long winter.


Anyway, this is the first sun hat I’d ever made and the first one Luca has ever worn.  I found instructions on this very terrific site.  There were some minor problems along the way.  I (as usual) tried to cut some corners and ended up ripping out some seams.  I have no idea at what point in my life I will learn to measure and use pins instead of just sewing things together and hoping for the best, but so be it.  Luca, despite his best efforts to be brave, is completely terrified of the sewing machine, so I ended up sewing for 15 seconds and then singing him a silly song to calm him down and sewing and singing and sewing and singing….

…and by noon we had a lovely hat.  Happy spring!


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Um, this just made my day.

Now that I’ve finished sobbing I’m going to go twirl around out in the yard a bit.

Thanks goes to Alexis over at Knot Sew Crafty for sharing this bit of wonderfulness with me!

And here’s the obligatory photo of Luca for the grandparents. Yes, he is in a sled on the lawn in April. When I pull him in the yard he sits back and looks around like he’s wondering where his throngs of adoring fans have gone.


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We had a bit of Easter this morning.  There was a little homemade basket on the table filled with local chocolate lovelies.  I love Easter and always have…this morning was wonderful.  It was my first Easter as the mumma.  Even better.

The trouble is, we’re not sure who left this basket.  The Easter Bunny? Scary.  The Jesus Bunny? Scarier.  The springtime flower faeries?   I think not.  Kreg went to parochial school and used to be an alter boy.  I was raised Congregationalist, which means, if I may quote Hausfrau “Jesus is not my personal savior, but I really dig stained glass windows”.


Kreg and I haven’t quite  worked out what to do about these holidays.  Easter is especially strange in that it somehow manages to mix Judeo-Christian themes of ritual sacrifice with Pagan celebrations of fertility and the equinox.  Throw in a handful of chocolate eggs and a giant rabbit that enters your home in the dead of night and you have…Easter?

We have another few years to make our traditions and decide what to tell our son.  Suggestions are welcome.  In the meantime I’m scarfing down the tiramisu truffles and the macadamia nut clusters…too bad that Jesus Bunny doesn’t do dishes.

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Just Because


You know those moments when you look up and the light is just insanely crisp, or an everyday object becomes inexplicably novel and beautiful, or the most ordinary moment seems suddenly to be so raw and fresh and real?  Aren’t those AMAZING?  What are they?  I know we all have them, I just know it.

I had one the other evening right in my backyard on the way out to the compost…gosh, they are so fleeting and so magical and all I could say to myself was this line from an old Hafiz poem,

I am so damn alive

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Oh, no you didn’t.

Oh, yes I did. And man, did it feel good.

I thought that I’d keep that scarf forever as a momento to those afternoons spent sitting in the hallway listening to Luca fall asleep. My first scarf. My first really challenging venture into momness.

Turns out the scarf (pardon me for this) kind of sucked. I didn’t like the look of it, I didn’t like the memories attached to it and I certainly didn’t like that it started off six inches wide and somehow chubbed out to nine without me even noticing.

So I posted a plea for help in the Ravelry forum as to what to do with a three foot piece of knitting that you can’t stand. And what (to my utter glee) did they say?

Frog it.

Which apparently is knitterese for destroy-that-which-you-have-created and I had assumed would be some kind of knitting sacrilege .

So, I sat there on the living room couch and pulled apart my first scarf row by row and by the end of it I felt, well, great. I left the yarn in a heap on the floor all day and after dinner Luca had a blast sitting on my lap and watching me ball it back up.

Here’s to giving ourselves permission to take-apart, to come full circle, to know that we’re always transforming even when it looks like we’re coming apart.

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A haircut and a rose found hiding out in the bathroom.


Hausfrau, i love thee (thanks soulemama).


Vintage Dresden plates


Found in Ellsworth, here.


New knitting…more on this to come.


Almost sitting!!!




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Last weekend after a particularly rough night I found myself in a
local yarn shop with Luca strapped to my back, sniffling to a bunch of extremely kind women.

They asked the customary, “Can I help you?”. I replied utterly pathetically that I needed to learn how to knit immediately. My eyes were red and bloodshot from that nasty combination of tears and sleep deprivation, my hair was a disaster and I’m frankly surprised I had remembered to put on shoes.

Well those absolutely lovely women at The Lilac Lily in Southwest Harbor sat me right down, cooed over my baby, fussed over me, promptly taught me some knitting basics and got me going on a scarf.

I owe them. Big time.

Monday morning, nap time rolls around. I rock Luca and lay him down in his crib. Kiss him one last time. I set myself up in the hallway.

Tea. Floor cushion. Knitting.

The dreaded fussing begins. Ten stitches, I think to myself. Ten stitches and you can go in there. It’s OK to let your baby fuss a little bit because at the moment you are knitting and what on earth could be more wholesome that knitting, for Christ’s sake. Eight stitches later the fussing stops.


And on this little dance goes until, miraculously after three rows and only one visit cribside my little son has fallen asleep for his nap without shedding a tear in under 15 minutes while I knit myself a scarf out in the hall.

Apparently Kim West forgot to mention in her book that you’ll need to learn to knit in order to get her technique to work. Thanks for holding out on me, Kim. You may want to start selling your book as a package with a ball of yarn and a couple of little bamboo sticks.

I wonder if anyone else ever measured their sleep training in stitches?


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