Last Days of Summer

Dear Mom,

We are squeezing out every last drop of summer left . . . enjoying all of the carefree that we can get!!! I set up my sewing machine outside and did some sewing on the back porch. Keeper dozed in the patches of sunshine. And Pipsqueak worked very hard on getting bubbles!

I will keep you posted on our weekend activities and my sewing adventures! Enjoy your long weekend . . . .

Love,

Wendy

What I am working on

Dear Mom,

There has been an explosion of knitting activity here. Last week, I started 3 new projects. We will not speak of the projects already in progress. It might shock and shame me to actually list them all.

The smallest of the (new) projects is a gift- a pair of socks. Nothing exciting. We'll move on.

The second is a design idea I have, coming to fruition. Much more exciting. For me, at least.

This is the first all-over lace design I have done and would be moving along at a much quicker pace if:

1) It were the ONLY thing I had on my knitting needles,

2) The lace pattern didn't require my full attention,

and

3) It weren't black, which limits my time with it to daylight hours. Pretend not to notice that I am blaming the yarn color and not my 48 year old eyes. I may have to move to my winter knitting spot under the Ott lamp to get some after dark knitting time on this one.

I am really excited about this project and as long as it turns out, I will post pictures of its progress.

The last of my (new) projects is a jacket for the Young Lady. This one requires only an occasional glance an needs my attention at only a few strategic points, so it is a perfect tv, evening, and/or social knitting project.

The premature coolish weather, which I am thrilled about, by the way, and a too small fleece jacket are to blame for this project. This is the Child's Surprise Jacket, based on Elizabeth Zimmermann's Baby Surprise Jacket. The surprise in the name comes from the fact that this thing looks nothing like, well, anything until you are almost done and with a clever fold or two, turns itself into a jacket. I have no idea how EZ came up with this one. That woman was a Genius.

Breath held, I asked the Young Lady if she would like me to knit her this jacket to replace the outgrown fleece. She agreed, as long as it "wasn't too scratchy", and I told her that she could choose all the yarns. Even better- we wouldn't have to leave the house! We could go upstairs and spend as much time as we needed sorting through my stash. Win-win. She feels good about the yarns she picked and the fact that she is helping me to put so much of it to good use. I am thrilled to be knitting something for her and to be reducing the (or making more room for) stash. The jacket is moving along at a pretty good clip and as there is an almost urgent need for it, I am motivated! Although, without doubt, the weather will turn unseasonably warm as soon as the jacket is finished.

You raised me right, so I am off to finish today's allotment of housework before I sit down to knit. Better get a move on. I've the daylight hours are getting shorter and I have a lot of knitting to do....

Love,

Kim

Tennis

Dear Mom,

With the school year well underway, we are slowly working our way around meet the teaacher nights and school open houses, becoming familiar with the homework hotline and study websites. In some ways the routines are familiar and in others we are not quite there yet. Part of the hindrance to our establishing any kind of pattern to our evenings is the excitement of High School Tennis.

Practices and meets challenge the dinner hour around here. I am building a repertoire of meals that can be prepared in the afternoon and reheated later in the evening, but we've also been bringing pizza home.

This is the Young Man's second year on the team. Last week he and his doubles partner, by challenging higher ranking teammates, earned their way to the JV second doubles position. Last night's was a particularly exciting match. At one point they were down 4 games but kept their composure and smiles on their faces to battle back and win 6 straight games and the match.

I keep knitting in the car for these events. I turn my nervous energy into something productive. The project is a mindless one that requires nothing more than muscle memory to accomplish. I am using up all those leftover little bits of sock yarn and knitting them into one big colorful blanket. I am calling it Joseph (aka the Amazing Technicolor blanket). Maybe I should call it "Memories" because I think a little bit about all the places it has gone with me, all the car pool lines and piano lesson time we've spent together and all the different socks given as gifts that the sock yarn scraps came from.

The tennis season isn't a long one; we'll be done in October. And the weather this time of year makes it no hardship to sit outside while watching the matches.

Love,

Kim

Book Review

Dear Mom,

I just finished the best book. Ever. I only get books from the library but this is worthy of a bookstore buy. To have on the shelf. Forever.

It is called, "The Art of Racing in the Rain" by Garth Stein. The book is written from the dog's perspective. It is absolutely and utterly charming. Sweet. Touching. Funny. A 27 (at least!)-hankie book. It has also given me an entirely new appreciation for Keeper. I am her dog whisperer. She whispers to me as well.

Find the book. Consume it and let it seep into your soul.

Love,

Wendy

A Fish Tale

Dear Mom,

I suppose every generation worries that their children's childhood is not as rich as their own. I don't know if it is just a worry that emerges when you become a parent or if it just a symptom of not wanting to give up your own youth and trying to keep things as much the same as you can so you don't feel so old. I hate it, though, that kids aren't able to go out and get lost in the fields like we did, disappearing until the church bells told us it was time to come home. Nowadays you feel like you need to know where they are at all times so you don't have to go issuing Amber Alerts when they aren't home exactly on time. Too much Play is Planned leaving little time for adventure, discovery and imagination.


Last week, the Young Lady grabbed her fishing pole, and after we untangled the knot in the line, she hopped on her bike and pedaled over to the nearest neighborhood lake. She wasn't gone too long when the phone rang. It was the Young Lady calling on her friend's cell phone to inform me that a fish had been caught. (The kids with cell phones thing is a topic for another day, but let's just leave it that if carrying the cell phone allows the child a little opportunity for adventure and discovery then so be it.)



Back to the story...

"You caught a FISH!?!", I cheer into the phone.




"Yeah and we called Boy to come and get it off the hook."

note the hook removal technique

"Wait for me," I shout, "I am bringing the camera."

As I round the corner, camera in tow, I see Boy pedaling furiously on his way to perform the Hook Removal. I could feel the energy. This was an Event worthy of taking the short-cut on your bike. (The Boy rushing to the scene reminded me of the time I stepped on the mouse in Julianne's backyard and the psychic alarm that reverberated through the neighborhood, attracting every neighbor kid to witness the slow and torturous mouse death; compounding my guilt with each new arrival was the inevitable "Who did it?" and fingers pointed in my direction.)

It surprised and cheered me to see a cluster of kids beside the lake, fussing over fishing poles, sharing bait, spying turtles and fish in the water.

I took my photos, started to warn them to be careful and not fall in ..... and then I stopped myself. This was their time to be lost in the fields. No planning and no parents. I quickly and quietly got back in my car and headed for home.

Love,

Kim

p.s. Yes, those are dangly feather earrings on the Young Lady. They are not lures. Let's just say it was not worth the battle and leave it at that. She loves them.

WWDD?

this is how the inside of my brain feels- hot pink and flying in different directions all at the same time and a bit frazzled

Dear Mom,

The random thoughts of a brain in creative turmoil....

The knitting design ideas (and yarn deliveries) come in faster than I can knit them.

GinaWhoCanParallelPark is now afraid that she will have to come in and clean up my yarn mess if something happens to me someday and I had better get started knitting. (in other words, stop spending the money I make selling my designs on more yarn and start knitting with what I have!!!)

I have some compelling ideas that won't quiet down. Do I take a safe sure route or get out of my "comfort zone", and Take a Risk! ??

My wonderful knitting friends help to fuel the creative fires. You do, too, because like a Good Mother, you sigh approvingly when I tell you my ideas and make "ooohh" and "awww" sounds.

WWDD??? What Would Daddy Do?

Love, Kim

Quincy

Dear Mom,

I started and completed this project yesterday. Chunky yarn + big needles + inspired design = motivated knitter who can't wait to see how it all turns out. Quincy by Jared Flood. I love the way this hat looks on and off my head. The yarn was purchased at a deep discount when a local yarn shop closed its doors. Always a sad thing, losing a yarn shop, but I would never have splurged on this yarn otherwise. It is 100% Merino wool, "Unikat" by Zitron.

With the exception of sock yarns, I am not a big fan of variegated yarns. Generally, I don't like the way the colors pool, worrying about how they might pool and/or doing all the tricks I need to do to avoid the pooling. However, the colors in this skein of yarn pulled me in and with only one skein available, I figured it would be a hat or scarf someday and pooling colors would not be an issue.

Along came Made In Brooklyn, Jared Flood's booklet filled with beautiful, wearable designs and I knew the yarn I bought last spring would be perfect for Quincy. I cast on yesterday afternoon, knit in between bits of housework, feeding kids, and meet the teacher night. Once the evening settled in, I settled into my knitting and didn't stop until Quincy was done. Simple garter stitch to relax with and enough design details to keep it interesting.

Making wool hats in August may not make sense, and I certainly don't want to rush the cold weather our way, but I kinda can't wait to wear my new hat.

Love,

Kim

First Day of School

Dear Mom,
There they go. My babies.

(Edited after post: I made Pipsqueak's backpack out of a pair of David's old jeans. And yes, Pipsqueak can almost fit into her bag!)

Love,
Wendy

Family History

Dear Mom,

When you dream of someday becoming a mother and you imagine the traits you may, no, WILL, pass on to your child, they are always good things like "your math smarts and my science smarts" or "my eyes and your ears", and "my nose and Not Yours." Things, however, do not always go as planned.

It would seem that I have passed my Clumsy trait on to the Young Lady. Shortly after noon today, the phone rang. Intermediate School, the Caller I.D. prompts. My heart skips a beat. In a quavering voice, leaving no doubt that tears are imminent, the Young Lady asks me to bring her a change of clothes. She has spilled juice all over herself and cannot go on.

As I drive the required clothing to school, I cannot help but recall what has become known in Family History as "That Day Kim had to wear Susan Templin's Pantyhose" or "The Day Susan Templin Saved My Life".

Yes, that day in ninth grade Home Ec class when I snagged my L'eggs pantyhose (color Suntan) on the sewing machine chair leg. Snagged is really not the word for the absolute massive hole that erupted. All that white flesh shining out from behind nylon suntan-y goodness was unacceptable and a potentially social life altering disaster. The shock and horror has left such an impression that I can remember what I was wearing on that day- the rose and gray plaid skirt and vest I sewed in Home Ec class. And yes, for those who may be wondering, my plaids did match.

I know that just stating the fact that I wore pantyhose in ninth grade and then adding the fact that they were L'eggs pantyhose has pretty accurately placed me in High School in the 70's. And proud of it, sister. Such was our Need to wear Suntan L'eggs pantyhose, that my friend, Susan Templin, had an extra pair in her purse. Just pause and think on that a moment. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old, carrying a spare pair of pantyhose in her purse, for just an emergency such as this. And she was friend enough to come to my rescue and let me have them.

Big deal. I borrowed a friend's pantyhose.....except that Dear Susan with the emergency L'eggs in her purse was about 14 inches shorter than I was. And she didn't have an emergency pair of pantyhose in her purse in case I needed them. She was carrying a Susan Templin sized pair of emergency pantyhose. A pair that allowed the waist band, with several desperate stretches, to come up exactly as far as my mid thigh, leaving the crotch at my knees. I wonder. How many times did I keep tugging at the waist band and pulling the legs hoping that this time they would miraculously and actually FIT? We all suffer for our beauty, though, and walking like a penguin was far better than all that exposed and blinding white flesh, so, with the crotch at my knees, I waddled through the remainder of my school day. When that last bell rang, I exhaled. I made it. I was almost home.

And then I had to get on the bus. That first step onto the bus never looked so high and required a lifting of the knee. The current Situation would not allow this to happen. With my thighs strapped together by the pantyhose waist band (which was trying its best to roll down my legs), a tremendous amount of arm strength and using a rolling sideways kick, I hoisted myself up those bus steps. One. Step. At. A. Time. Heaven only knows what the bus driver was thinking.

I am sure the image of me hobbling down those bus steps and penguin walking up the driveway will be one you never forget. The quizzical look on your face is one I will never forget. Nor will I forget the gut busting laughter as I pulled up my skirt and in answer to the unspoken question in your eyes announced, "Because I am wearing Susan Templin's pantyhose, that's why!!"

There were many other calamities along the way- and I am really, really sorry to think that the Young Lady's mishap with the juice at school today may only be the beginning.

Love,

Kim

Five of the Nicest Words . . . .

Dear Mom,

"You haven't changed a bit"!! Aren't those wonderful words?! I recently found a long lost friend and have enjoyed our friendship again through emails. He works an evening shift and usually replies to my emails sometime during his night so I get to wake up to a special treat when he sends a new email. We have exchanged stories, snippets of our lives over the past 20 years and current pictures. So--during my summer of lemons, I recently had a picture taken of me with the girls. I decided to send him that picture since it was literally just taken. He told me my girls are cute and then those magic words, "You haven't changed a bit"!! WOW. I was instantly a 17 year old girl again with smooth, unwrinkled skin. I didn't have my 3 babies bread-dough belly or any of the stretch marks!! I was witty and flirty!! I was larger than life!! I repeated those words to myself on an almost giddy, happy sigh . . . . . you haven't changed a bit!

And then--my "baby" came to me, asking in her faux-British accent, "What can I do for you, my love?" and I realized that it was okay, great even!, to have changed--a little bit.

Love,

Wendy

Project Runway

Dear Mom,

Thursday night I kept an eye on the time, and kicked the Young Man out of the family room (the Young Lady was already in bed) and commandeered the remote control so I could indulge in the long awaited return of Project Runway.

I love everything about Project Runway. The pressure, the clothes, the creativity, the time limits, the challenges, the tears, the challenge of creating a red carpet gown out of office supplies or whatever in 3 hours and 12.762 minutes and having it ready for the runway. Maybe not so much the tears. The nervous breakdowns take me back to board exams and the early days of my dental hygiene education when each of us, in turns, had a breakdown of one sort or another. If we had Tim Gunn mentoring us and talking us down, I can tell you there would have been a lot less crying in the dental materials lab.

On each show, the designers are given an assignment. They sketch, shop for fabric in something like 30 minutes (unless they are given auto parts or something to work with) and put their sewing machine pedals to the metal and get to work. It always seems like there is like 8 hours to work the first day and then like 10 minutes the next morning. This is usually when there are tears and drama and little bits of sniping like the time one designer had a hissy fit because somebody changed the thread in the sewing machine, or when the dress won't fit on the model like happened last night. And since it is a competition, the designers are only friendly with each other for about 3 1/2 days before they start watching their backs and sort of spying on what the designer across the room is doing instead of paying attention to their own work. But I don't watch it for that stuff.

I really like seeing what different designers, given the same challenges, resources and time limits, create. I like to watch those creations walk down the runway- some of them truly inspired and creative and some of them dreadful. I pick my best and worst and listen carefully to the panel of judges (I even like the judges, Heidi Klum, Michael Kors and Nina Garcia) and then hang on in suspense wondering to whom Heidi will bid "auf wiedersehen". I worry a little about the feelings of the person who is "aufed", but sometimes I am glad to see them go. Last night was a glad night. When Miss Designer said she didn't sketch and did head stands until it was time to go shopping, I had the feeling she wouldn't last. She didn't.

So now to wait until next week for my next episode of slightly guilty viewing pleasure and an excuse to stay up late and knit on a school night.

Like I wouldn't anyway.

Love,

Kim

Lemons, II

Dear Mom,

Not to be outdone by the girls yesterday, the Teenager and his friends decided they would make Lemonade today!!

There was some level of organization in their chaos, everyone worked very well together cutting lemons, squeezing lemons and guesstimating at the sugar/lemon/water ratio. It is clearly time to go back to school.

But the lemonade was quite awesome!

Love,

Wendy

When Life Gives You Lemons

Dear Mom,

My summer has not turned out in any way like I thought it would. It was a summer of changes and growth. A summer of lemons . . . . I chose to spend my morning baking LEMON BREAD!!!

Do you remember this recipe? It's from little Carresa Rogers, who is not so little anymore. She is probably married and may have children of her own!! The recipe is incredibly, laughably easy and yields the most delicious loaf of bread. The kitchen was abuzz with activity as the Diva gathered ingredients, Pipsqueak stirred, and the Teenager hung around with several friends, pretending not to be interested in the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen . . . .

Lemon Bread

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1 cup sugar

grated rind of 1 lemon

2 eggs, beaten

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 cup milk

1 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

After baking:

juice of 1 lemon

1/4 cup sugar

Mix all ingredients together. Pour into greased loaf pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes. The top will crack. Remove from pan. Blend together the 1/4 cup of sugar and lemon juice. Brush top and sides of loaf with it while bread is still warm. Enjoy!

Seriously?! If you bake this bread for friends, family and/or neighbors, make sure you do not let them know how easy this bread is to bake!! Trade this bread for a homemade cheesecake or a souffle. Maybe go for an entire homemade dinner!

And when your summer gives you nothin' but lemons, please pass me more lemon bread!

Love,

Wendy

Tomato Basil Cheese Pie

Dear Mom,
Right about now, some of us are wondering why we planted so many tomato plants last spring. We are swallowing Prilosec OTC in an effort to manage the heartburn produced by eating 38 grape tomatoes every day.
There is no better tomato than the one eaten fresh off the vine, hot and dusty, right there in the garden with the juice dripping off your chin. Unfortunately, tomato plants won't thoughtfully produce just one or two ripe tomatoes per day. The tomatoes ripen in caboodles over here, and I can't stand out there all afternoon, eating hot dusty fresh tomatoes. I've got knitting to do.
Last summer I found this delicious recipe for Tomato Basil Cheese Pie, that uses 4!!! tomatoes. It also mixes in mayo with cheese before baking which sounds gross if you think about it, so don't think about it. It could be a side dish, but My Hero and I make it our meal and since they won't eat it, I fix something like Bagel Bites for the kids.

Tomato Basil Cheese Pie
makes 1 pie - serves 6-8, unless it is a main dish and then it maybe serves 4

8-oz shredded mozzarella, divided- take time and shred it yourself, it is worth it.
4 tomatoes, sliced
1 cup fresh basil
4 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 c grated Parmesan cheese, again shred it yourself! Don't you dare use the stuff in the green can!!!
1/8 teaspoon white pepper
Garnish: fresh basil ( I never take time to do this part, but it would be a nice touch)

Pastry for pie crust:
Yes, you could buy a 9-inch pie crust at the store and save yourself some time, but this is what I do and it is easy...
Soften 6 T butter. Add a dash of salt and whisk together it together with 1/4 cup BOILING water. Add 1 cup flour and mix together until the flour is all mixed in. I do all of this in my Kitchenaid mixer with the whisk attachment. Take the lump of dough and roll it out into a big circle, or if you are in a real hurry, plop the dough right into the pie pan and moosh it around with your fingers until the dough is evenly covering the bottom and sides.

Sprinkle half of the mozzarella cheese into the pie crust. Top with tomato slices.
Sprinkle with minced garlic and basil leaves. Mix remaining mozzarella, mayo, Parmesan cheese and pepper together and spread over tomato-basil mixture. Bake at 375 for 35- 40 minutes, or until golden.

Love,
Kim

Keepin' It Real

Dear Mom,
Yesterday afternoon.
Me: "HEY! Young Lady! Come here and see this! My little blue dress is on a website!!!!!!!!!"
Young Lady: "oh. What's the dinner plan? I'm hungry."
Me: .....
Love,
Kim

Oh Happy Day

Dear Mom,

After months of anticipation and with breathless, lightheaded excitement, I present to you THIS! My girls dress, designed and knit by ME! (yay me!) and published, right there LIVE! on the INTERNET thanks to Classic Elite Yarn company. I am dizzy, I tell you. Dizzy. And just a little weepy. Partly because all the other designs in my head are dancing around yelling "Pick me! Pick me! I want to go next!" And partly because I think this must be how it feels when dreams come true.

Love,

Kim

Happy Birthday Julia Child!

Dear Mom,

Today is Julia Child's birthday! After seeing the movie Julie & Julia, I have become infatuated with this fascinating woman. I want to get her cookbook so I can make beef bourguignon and boned stuffed duck (Pate de Canard en Croute). According to on-line news sources, her cookbook sales have soared following the release of the movie.

I hope you can find time to see this wonderful movie; you will want to have her cookbook too!

Bon Appetit!

Love, Bonnie Jo

Photo Shoot

Dear Mom,

Having finished a pair of socks for the May 2010 issue of Creative Knitting magazine, and needing to deliver them along with my pattern instructions, I was invited by the editor, Barb, to meet her at a photo shoot yesterday.
The location was only about 15 minutes away, but I felt like I was in another world for a little while.

The models were breathtakingly beautiful, as you would expect, but read that again. I didn't just say beautiful. I said Breathtaking. Stunning. Photogenic has a whole new meaning for me now. And the models were polite and friendly. I was equally struck by their poise while being photographed and STARED AT as I was by their looks.

Fascinated, I asked if I could take photos of them taking photos.

Here is Editor Barb, writing down an identification number and the sweater's name on a dry erase board. After the photos are taken, the model will hold this board and have another photo taken. She will also take an additional shot holding a color board. This is Liz:

Liz was fluffed and styled, special attention taken to showing the sweater to its best advantage.

And Liz's legs were probably ended at the height of my waist.

This photo shoot is for the January 2010 issue. Special care was taken that the backgrounds won't look too summery, and those models, wearing wool sweaters in August didn't even appear to be overheating.
In addition to the photographer and the hair and make up professional, there was also a stylist who coordinates the sweater, clothes and accessories for the models. She would pick up the models when they were done, whisk them away in her van and return with them wearing a new look.

This is Brittany, a former Miss Indiana. Make up touched up.

And beautiful.

Love,

Kim

Peas

Dear Mom,

Since reading this blog post the other day, I have been thinking about Peas. And how much I hate them. Snow peas are good in stir fry and Sugar Snap Peas are acceptable (probably because they have sugar in the name) but plain old green peas? No thank you.

I can be a big girl if I have to and eat them in that layer salad because they are coated in that Parmesan cheese/sugar/mayo salad dressing and because they have not been cooked. Or in vegetable soup when they can be camouflaged in my mouth by the broth and better vegetables. But that is it.

And the only reason there is a bag of frozen peas in my freezer is because it makes a handy first aid ice pack.

I hate peas so much that I don't think I have ever made my kids eat them.

My hatred for peas is deep and long suffering. I have a history with peas, and I can remember precisely when my pea-dislike turned into pea-hatred. I bear emotional scars.

I don't exactly blame you. After all, I am a mother now, and I have used the "eat your _________ or you won't get any dessert" line a time or two hundred. But did you have to serve peas on the day we had Captain Crunch Ice Cream Bars for dessert? Did you? Why not on the day (like most days) that we had Jello for dessert? Or even a day we had Jellolayeredwithcoolwhip? Because even though I Tried, and watched Bonnie eat her peas and her Captain Crunch Ice Cream Bar, and even though I cried and choked on peas and cried some more and even went into full out gag reflex over those peas..... I could not eat them and I did not get my Captain Crunch Ice Cream Bar. And I think probably Daddy ate all the rest of them because I don't remember getting one the next day, either.

Love,

Kim

and p.s. I don't think they even make them any more. I've been looking.

Back to School

Dear Mom,

Hear that? No?! That's because there is NOTHING TO HEAR!!! I am home alone! And, yeah, it is way too early for school to start. WAY to early. I think I need to change the lyrics to Alice Cooper's song from "Schoooooool's out. for. Summer." to " Schoooooooool. Starts. in. Summer."

Summer should have lasted another two weeks. But, now that the big yellow bus has taken them away and I have had time to do the math, and realize that the next SEVEN HOURS are mine to spend in solitude even if that solitude includes cleaning bathrooms, well.... maybe it isn't so early after all.

We took the obligatory Front Porch on the First Day of School picture. And then another because the Young Man was yawning in the first. And another to capture the enormity of the Young Lady's new backpack, stuffed with school supplies. I hope she doesn't lose her balance before that thing is unpacked. The image of a turtle on its shell comes to mind.

So, for the next several hours, I will clean without interruption and it will stay that way until the bus comes. I'd like to think I will have time to read and knit and maybe take a power nap and listen to the dog's heavy breathing as he sleeps the day away. And then take a breath before the bus brings home stories of the first day. And hopefully not too much homework.

Love,

Kim