I soak beans overnight. There is a quick method in "More With Less" but I don't like the way my kitchen smells when I boil beans on the stove. So I soak them.
In the morning, I turn the crock pot on. They've soaked in the crock pot and then I just turn it on. I don't switch the water. Whatever.
The crock pot never burns them. Sometimes they stick to the one hot spot on the bottom right corner, but nothing stinky. I cook them on low all day. I test them for doneness, and when they are soft but still firm enough to hold their shape, I drain off the water.
I pour in a jar of salsa. Or a freezer container of salsa verde. Or whatever salsa-ish concoction we've received from the CSA. Sometimes I add chopped onion and garlic. Sometimes canned tomatoes. Rarely do I add meat, and then, only leftover chicken or beef bits (sometimes the second night of beans gets stretched with deer meat, but not on the first night).
Cumin. Cumin is not optional in my house.
Salt, pepper, chili powder. Put it all in the crock pot, whichever bits seem right that day. Cover and let it cook another hour or so.
Serve with shredded cheese and/or sour cream. It isn't complete without one of those--it is missing a layer of flavor alone. But with it, it is the best thing, any time of year.
Leftovers go in lunches or Jake eats for breakfast. If there's enough (if I've done more than a pound of beans to begin with), I brown deer meat on the stove (chunks or ground) and throw the leftovers in the pan. I usually add more onion and tomato as well. Chili again, or rolled up in tortillas.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
17. Broken Dishes, Broken Dishwasher
In the past three days I've broken a bowl and a glass. Unrelated to washing them--I was picking the glass up to put away, and taking the bowl out of the cabinet. Crash onto the floor. The glass was no big thing, but I like my bowls with cat faces. Ah well.
Less emotional investment in the dishwasher. It is older and it no longer sprays water. It sort of steams the dishes now. Which doesn't work, by the way. I was distressed the morning I found the still-dirty dishes sort of smeared around and grimy. It took a lot of work to clean them, and the dishes in the sink waiting for their turn in the dishwasher.
But since then, things are clean in my kitchen. I wash dishes after breakfast. I wash dishes, tiny bits, throughout the day. I put dishes away while doing other tasks in the kitchen. And then I wash dishes while I cook dinner and after we eat. The kitchen is tidy before bed and the day starts well.
Why do I want a dishwasher, again?
I'm sure I'm using more water this way, but maybe not. It's an older dishwasher and not an Energy Star appliance. I know I'm not using as much electricity, though, even with the hot water I use. The soap is cheaper, too. And my kitchen is clean.
I hate to be the one to say this but I think I might say it. I already always did my good wine glasses by hand, and all of my pots and pans, being anodized aluminum, never ever go in the dishwasher. My Revereware sometimes did (don't tell my aunt Gracemarie) but pyrex dishes rarely came out clean so I did them by hand most times. Same with the crock pot, which I use at least weekly. Bento boxes are done by hand because they're plastic. Same with anything plastic I put in my fridge to store leftovers or pesto, etc.
The dishwasher essentially became a place to store dirty dishes until later. Silverware, every day glasses, plates, and bowls. Which, of course, ARE THE EASIEST THINGS TO HANDWASH.
I think I'll eventually replace the dishwasher. Looks like about $600-$900 for a really good one. And I'll use it for dinner parties and events like that. Right?
Hmm.
Less emotional investment in the dishwasher. It is older and it no longer sprays water. It sort of steams the dishes now. Which doesn't work, by the way. I was distressed the morning I found the still-dirty dishes sort of smeared around and grimy. It took a lot of work to clean them, and the dishes in the sink waiting for their turn in the dishwasher.
But since then, things are clean in my kitchen. I wash dishes after breakfast. I wash dishes, tiny bits, throughout the day. I put dishes away while doing other tasks in the kitchen. And then I wash dishes while I cook dinner and after we eat. The kitchen is tidy before bed and the day starts well.
Why do I want a dishwasher, again?
I'm sure I'm using more water this way, but maybe not. It's an older dishwasher and not an Energy Star appliance. I know I'm not using as much electricity, though, even with the hot water I use. The soap is cheaper, too. And my kitchen is clean.
I hate to be the one to say this but I think I might say it. I already always did my good wine glasses by hand, and all of my pots and pans, being anodized aluminum, never ever go in the dishwasher. My Revereware sometimes did (don't tell my aunt Gracemarie) but pyrex dishes rarely came out clean so I did them by hand most times. Same with the crock pot, which I use at least weekly. Bento boxes are done by hand because they're plastic. Same with anything plastic I put in my fridge to store leftovers or pesto, etc.
The dishwasher essentially became a place to store dirty dishes until later. Silverware, every day glasses, plates, and bowls. Which, of course, ARE THE EASIEST THINGS TO HANDWASH.
I think I'll eventually replace the dishwasher. Looks like about $600-$900 for a really good one. And I'll use it for dinner parties and events like that. Right?
Hmm.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
16. Hexagons Still Going
A work in progress. It is a quilt top made of hexagonal kaleidoscope blocks. Then they were positioned on the bed, pinned down, and I'm working through them row by row. It's a lot of half-hexagons to piece. And I've been, you know, out of town and busy with other things. But I try to do a bit each day.
The cats have claimed this. They love layers of anything laid on top of layers of anything else. The folded blanket at the end of the couch. The rumpled pajama pants at the foot of Sophia's bed. Doesn't matter. If it's on top, they're going to lie on it.
Bleys, pictured there, will also make it his own. Every day I go in there and straighten up hexagons. Hexagons that are rapidly turning an orangey-white.
Friday, February 25, 2011
15. Spools
These are the spools of thread I went through to make the Christmas quilts. Some of them, of course, were partially used before Christmas quilting began. But some of these belie their original heft--that cardboard tube, for instance, was three times that size in diameter, top to bottom, filled with machine quilting thread.
Some of it was "vintage" thread, picked up mostly at Leftovers back when they had a south city location (oh how I miss Leftovers; the drive to St. Charles is too much for a bag of junk). I picked them up mostly for the wooden spools they were wound on, but that Trusew Polyester was a thin lavender thread I used to put blocks together.
I'm sure this isn't all. I didn't think to start saving spools from this project until October, and at that point I had done some work already. But it's a good indicator, still.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
14. Feet
I have three feet for my sewing machine. Here, the sewing machine is footless. Don't pay attention to the fuzz. It's time to clean the sewing machine. But you can see the basics there. The needle, the thread, and the open bobbin case for the lower thread.
This is the machine with its normal foot. When I got this machine, this was the foot that came with it. This foot is fine. You want to piece a bunch of little triangles together? Sure. Sew up a dress for Sophia to wear in a wedding? No problem. But you can't quilt with it. Nope.
For that, you need these. Either of these, but both is better, of course. The first one here is a walking foot. I also use this for very long sewing projects, like banners at church. A walking foot, well, walks. It has "teeth" that match up with the teeth (or sometimes I've heard it called "feed dogs" but I don't know why) on the bottom of the machine. The top piece of fabric gets moved along at the same speed as the bottom. This isn't an issue for small stretches of sewing, nor is it a problem when the things being sewn are thin. But if you combine long lengths of stitches with thick layers of batting and backing, you get a big puckering headache. That's not a pun. The whole thing will pucker and shift and look lousy. The walking foot solves this problem.
Why not just use it all the time? I thought that, too. But it is loud and slower than the other basic foot. So I do use it more often than I might if I wasn't a quilter--and it is essential to do things like match up plaids and stripes--but I don't use it for everyday.
The last foot here is an embroidery foot. Like peanut butter goes with jelly, the embroidery foot is useless unless it comes with a plate to cover the feed dogs. More advanced machines have a lever to lower the feed dogs, but I was able to order this little plastic plate to go over them and there you go. Tricked it up just fine. The embroidery foot is for embroidery (duh) and free motion quilting. If you have a machine quilted quilt, all those curlicues and puzzle shapes and stars and waves come from embroidery feet (well, not really--but they could. Most likely they came from a programmable long-arm quilting machine, but I live in a house, not a warehouse, and I just can't go there yet, especially when this works "just fine for government use" (where does THAT idiom come from and why is it in MY head?).
I've had folks ask about quilting on a home machine, and that's how you do it. That's how I do it all, in fact. So much of life is just having the right equipment.
This is the machine with its normal foot. When I got this machine, this was the foot that came with it. This foot is fine. You want to piece a bunch of little triangles together? Sure. Sew up a dress for Sophia to wear in a wedding? No problem. But you can't quilt with it. Nope.
For that, you need these. Either of these, but both is better, of course. The first one here is a walking foot. I also use this for very long sewing projects, like banners at church. A walking foot, well, walks. It has "teeth" that match up with the teeth (or sometimes I've heard it called "feed dogs" but I don't know why) on the bottom of the machine. The top piece of fabric gets moved along at the same speed as the bottom. This isn't an issue for small stretches of sewing, nor is it a problem when the things being sewn are thin. But if you combine long lengths of stitches with thick layers of batting and backing, you get a big puckering headache. That's not a pun. The whole thing will pucker and shift and look lousy. The walking foot solves this problem.
Why not just use it all the time? I thought that, too. But it is loud and slower than the other basic foot. So I do use it more often than I might if I wasn't a quilter--and it is essential to do things like match up plaids and stripes--but I don't use it for everyday.The last foot here is an embroidery foot. Like peanut butter goes with jelly, the embroidery foot is useless unless it comes with a plate to cover the feed dogs. More advanced machines have a lever to lower the feed dogs, but I was able to order this little plastic plate to go over them and there you go. Tricked it up just fine. The embroidery foot is for embroidery (duh) and free motion quilting. If you have a machine quilted quilt, all those curlicues and puzzle shapes and stars and waves come from embroidery feet (well, not really--but they could. Most likely they came from a programmable long-arm quilting machine, but I live in a house, not a warehouse, and I just can't go there yet, especially when this works "just fine for government use" (where does THAT idiom come from and why is it in MY head?).
I've had folks ask about quilting on a home machine, and that's how you do it. That's how I do it all, in fact. So much of life is just having the right equipment.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
13. Bacon Grease
We occasionally have bacon in our house. It is often an ingredient, but sometimes we make it for dinner (BLTs) or a weekend brunch. I will not feel guilty about bacon. Just sayin.
We pour off the grease into a can, unless I'm truly lazy and let it congeal in the pan and then scrape it into the trash instead. This can sits on the counter by the sink. This can is gross.
I decided over Christmas--it's a convoluted story that involves listening to Pandora radio on my phone plugged into the car on a station I created out of classic and jazzy Christmas music and then there's Bing telling me to save grease to help support the troops in the 1940s--that I wouldn't just throw bacon grease away. As an added bonus, it would also no longer grace my kitchen counter.
Last night was our first bacon since Christmas. We poured the grease off into a can and let it cool in the sink. Stuck it in the fridge, where my parents used to keep a similar jar of grease. I'm sure Jake's parents did too. Or do.
I'm not sure what to do with bacon grease, really. I feel thrifty for saving it in the fridge, but then what?
Lucky for me, there is the internet. Google "uses for bacon grease" and there you go. The best answer I got was "anytime I need to cook something in oil or butter I think, 'will bacon grease do?'"
Probably not the healthiest choice, but a little bit of bacon flavor goes a long way. I'll report back my findings. I'm thinking most of it will wind up on greens this spring, frankly.
We pour off the grease into a can, unless I'm truly lazy and let it congeal in the pan and then scrape it into the trash instead. This can sits on the counter by the sink. This can is gross.
I decided over Christmas--it's a convoluted story that involves listening to Pandora radio on my phone plugged into the car on a station I created out of classic and jazzy Christmas music and then there's Bing telling me to save grease to help support the troops in the 1940s--that I wouldn't just throw bacon grease away. As an added bonus, it would also no longer grace my kitchen counter.
Last night was our first bacon since Christmas. We poured the grease off into a can and let it cool in the sink. Stuck it in the fridge, where my parents used to keep a similar jar of grease. I'm sure Jake's parents did too. Or do.
I'm not sure what to do with bacon grease, really. I feel thrifty for saving it in the fridge, but then what?
Lucky for me, there is the internet. Google "uses for bacon grease" and there you go. The best answer I got was "anytime I need to cook something in oil or butter I think, 'will bacon grease do?'"
Probably not the healthiest choice, but a little bit of bacon flavor goes a long way. I'll report back my findings. I'm thinking most of it will wind up on greens this spring, frankly.
Monday, February 21, 2011
12. My Niece's Sunbonnet Sue
The girls on my Christmas list last year received Sunbonnet Sue quilts. Daisy and the cousin her age had the traditional baby-doll turned to the side Sue, but Fiona and the cousins her age received the girls on swings and parasol ladies instead.
They were ironed on and then blind-stitched down. After that, each one of them was embellished. Some very simply, with a lace edge to her bonnet or something like that. Many of them were decorated more elaborately, however, with seasonal objects and settings. After I was done, I divided them into piles based on how elaborate they were--I didn't want one girl to receive all the really interesting ones--and then randomly assigned them to each recipient. I set them all differently, however. This one, for my niece in Texas, has the Sues/Parasol Ladies all in the center together, with sampler blocks all around.
The girls are sewn onto vintage fabric. Sturdy old pillowcases and discarded linens from church (from incidental tables and maybe from altar cloths--but not the altar at my church because these were all too narrow and way way too long). I was trying for a patina of age, since this is a 1930s pattern. Not all the same white, basically. It was mostly successful I think.
I will not be returning to this pattern, or the more traditional Sue, not for a long time. I worked on these ALL YEAR, constantly returning to this handwork when I couldn't do machine work (on trips, for instance, or at school functions, etc). I'm tired of Sue. But happy about the result.
They were ironed on and then blind-stitched down. After that, each one of them was embellished. Some very simply, with a lace edge to her bonnet or something like that. Many of them were decorated more elaborately, however, with seasonal objects and settings. After I was done, I divided them into piles based on how elaborate they were--I didn't want one girl to receive all the really interesting ones--and then randomly assigned them to each recipient. I set them all differently, however. This one, for my niece in Texas, has the Sues/Parasol Ladies all in the center together, with sampler blocks all around.
The girls are sewn onto vintage fabric. Sturdy old pillowcases and discarded linens from church (from incidental tables and maybe from altar cloths--but not the altar at my church because these were all too narrow and way way too long). I was trying for a patina of age, since this is a 1930s pattern. Not all the same white, basically. It was mostly successful I think.
I will not be returning to this pattern, or the more traditional Sue, not for a long time. I worked on these ALL YEAR, constantly returning to this handwork when I couldn't do machine work (on trips, for instance, or at school functions, etc). I'm tired of Sue. But happy about the result.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
11. My Goals for 2011
These aren't resolutions. These are a few goals in the realm of things related to this blog that I want to accomplish this year. And we'll see how I go as the year progresses. I know this blog will take longer than December 31 but "2011" sounds better in the title than "for however long this blog winds up taking me to finish an arbitrary 365 entries".
1. It's quilts for Christmas again, although this year I'm going to try to not be seasonal--not everyone received seasonal quilts but many did. I don't want people to wind up with a closet full of Christmas quilts. But I also don't want to impose my style on others and so seasonal always sounds good to me. It's a tightrope. Maybe some will get fall-themed. I want these to be the sort of thing that people grab to sit under when they're watching TV and it's chilly. Or they're on the phone on the porch and it's chilly. I don't want them to be museum pieces and I don't want people to feel like I'm expecting them to redecorate their bedrooms (except for my sister Bevin and the double knit of course...). So I'm doing some thinking about this.
2. This year I will finish my knitting UFOs (unfinished objects). I'm working on my Kauni sweater right now; my pink cabled sweater needs a new collar and a longer hemline or I will never wear it (it's an FO, made into a UFO). I have a baby hat in beautiful earth tones that maybe is waiting for good news from Texas.
3. I'd love to learn how to make divinity just so I can say I can.
4. I want to make pickles again if I have the surplus cucumbers. And skip the jalapeno jelly (I still have plenty from last summer). Teach the girl scouts how to make jam, mostly to spite GSUSA.
5. I'm going to plant potatoes this year. I'm thinking right now about what I will plant them in. Urban Homestead...sigh. It will ruin me.
6. I will do something with that big bulky made in the Andes wool sweater that is taunting me to do something crafty with it. Felt it and make it into something else? Cut it down into a kid's sweater (scratchy)? Hmm.
7. I will not spend the summer and early fall being ashamed of my front yard. Ugh. The little strip of land on the west side is lovely (my grandmother planted it). The rest...needs a lot of work.
8. I will paint my front porch. I will also paint my upper back porch off my room.
9. Mostly Jake and the girls, but me too: rebuild the swingset. Rebuild and improve.
10. I will varnish the cabinet my dad made us so many years ago. Perhaps convince him to make new doors for it. Put glass in the doors. Really. I WILL DO IT THIS YEAR.
11. Paint the dining room. Medium gray. I just need to get off my duff and get it done. This spring. Tired of the red. Tired.
12. Finish the braided wool rag rug that is, again, taunting me in the guest room.
13. Finally, I will convince Jake to finish the trim in the attic with my help, and rehab the downstairs bathroom off the kitchen.
1. It's quilts for Christmas again, although this year I'm going to try to not be seasonal--not everyone received seasonal quilts but many did. I don't want people to wind up with a closet full of Christmas quilts. But I also don't want to impose my style on others and so seasonal always sounds good to me. It's a tightrope. Maybe some will get fall-themed. I want these to be the sort of thing that people grab to sit under when they're watching TV and it's chilly. Or they're on the phone on the porch and it's chilly. I don't want them to be museum pieces and I don't want people to feel like I'm expecting them to redecorate their bedrooms (except for my sister Bevin and the double knit of course...). So I'm doing some thinking about this.
2. This year I will finish my knitting UFOs (unfinished objects). I'm working on my Kauni sweater right now; my pink cabled sweater needs a new collar and a longer hemline or I will never wear it (it's an FO, made into a UFO). I have a baby hat in beautiful earth tones that maybe is waiting for good news from Texas.
3. I'd love to learn how to make divinity just so I can say I can.
4. I want to make pickles again if I have the surplus cucumbers. And skip the jalapeno jelly (I still have plenty from last summer). Teach the girl scouts how to make jam, mostly to spite GSUSA.
5. I'm going to plant potatoes this year. I'm thinking right now about what I will plant them in. Urban Homestead...sigh. It will ruin me.
6. I will do something with that big bulky made in the Andes wool sweater that is taunting me to do something crafty with it. Felt it and make it into something else? Cut it down into a kid's sweater (scratchy)? Hmm.
7. I will not spend the summer and early fall being ashamed of my front yard. Ugh. The little strip of land on the west side is lovely (my grandmother planted it). The rest...needs a lot of work.
8. I will paint my front porch. I will also paint my upper back porch off my room.
9. Mostly Jake and the girls, but me too: rebuild the swingset. Rebuild and improve.
10. I will varnish the cabinet my dad made us so many years ago. Perhaps convince him to make new doors for it. Put glass in the doors. Really. I WILL DO IT THIS YEAR.
11. Paint the dining room. Medium gray. I just need to get off my duff and get it done. This spring. Tired of the red. Tired.
12. Finish the braided wool rag rug that is, again, taunting me in the guest room.
13. Finally, I will convince Jake to finish the trim in the attic with my help, and rehab the downstairs bathroom off the kitchen.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
10. My Faux Risotto
Risotto is a rice dish, cooked slowly over high heat, adding liquid as need be, stirring constantly. It takes arborio rice, but we have Missouri CSA rice, so that's what I use. Hence, faux risotto. Here's the plan (not a recipe because recipes are for baking, where cooking is a science. All other cooking techniques that I use have plans or skeleton recipes to fill in what I need). I make a mushroom risotto with chicken stock--I am well aware of other very very lovely options but this is my favorite homemade.
Take 5 cups of chicken stock. If you're using dried mushrooms, soak them in the stock to soften.
In a large pan, heat about 4 T olive oil and saute a chopped onion and a few cloves of garlic.
Once the onion is clear, add 2 cups of rice and stir to mix and coat. Once the rice starts to look a bit clear as opposed to dried-rice-opaque, add about a half cup of the chicken stock and the mushrooms (if I'm using fresh, it's about the equivalent of a blue styrofoam package of mushrooms--like 8 ounces?). Stir until liquid is absorbed.
Then it's like the side of the shampoo bottle: lather, rinse, repeat. Only in this case it's a half cup of stock, stir until absorbed, repeat.
Test the rice every so often to see how it is progressing. It may take more than 5 cups of liquid--I use a bit of white wine then, or water. Once the rice gets tender, I dump on herbs--fresh or dry depending on the season--usually in the thyme/parsley/basil family. Salt and pepper--I don't salt my stock so I definitely add some. Keep adding liquid until the rice starts looking creamy and is "done".
I dump in a cup of shredded Italian-friendly cheese at this point (parmesan or romano or whatever CSA equivalent of hard mildish white cheese I have). If I don't have cheese on hand (rare) or the right kind (colby just isn't the same), I put the blasphemous can of parmesan cheese on the table and let my family make their own choices.
Nom.
Take 5 cups of chicken stock. If you're using dried mushrooms, soak them in the stock to soften.
In a large pan, heat about 4 T olive oil and saute a chopped onion and a few cloves of garlic.
Once the onion is clear, add 2 cups of rice and stir to mix and coat. Once the rice starts to look a bit clear as opposed to dried-rice-opaque, add about a half cup of the chicken stock and the mushrooms (if I'm using fresh, it's about the equivalent of a blue styrofoam package of mushrooms--like 8 ounces?). Stir until liquid is absorbed.
Then it's like the side of the shampoo bottle: lather, rinse, repeat. Only in this case it's a half cup of stock, stir until absorbed, repeat.
Test the rice every so often to see how it is progressing. It may take more than 5 cups of liquid--I use a bit of white wine then, or water. Once the rice gets tender, I dump on herbs--fresh or dry depending on the season--usually in the thyme/parsley/basil family. Salt and pepper--I don't salt my stock so I definitely add some. Keep adding liquid until the rice starts looking creamy and is "done".
I dump in a cup of shredded Italian-friendly cheese at this point (parmesan or romano or whatever CSA equivalent of hard mildish white cheese I have). If I don't have cheese on hand (rare) or the right kind (colby just isn't the same), I put the blasphemous can of parmesan cheese on the table and let my family make their own choices.
Nom.
Friday, February 18, 2011
9. Spring Cleaning
I have elderly cats. More than that, I have annoying cats. For 14 years, we had no problems that were not quickly solved. No cat pee. Nope. Nada.
The past year this has changed for the worse. I blame Hickory, our black cat. I think she's taking advantage of the situation (Bleys is getting older, we figured he was the culprit--but in the end, I think it's her).
I spend a lot of time cleaning cat pee. We got rid of the living room rug, my very favorite rug, because I simply couldn't get one area clean enough that they stopped being interested. It was hopeless. Now we have two annoying cheap rugs in the living room but OF COURSE they're not peeing on them. Not that I'm complaining.
But they're turning into Bad Cats--leave a jacket on the ground? Fair game. Sophia leaves open some knitting in a box? Boom.
It's time to haul it all out and start again. I can see the advantage to my parents' moving schedule. I've lived here 13 years and it shows.
More to come. Scrub a dub.
The past year this has changed for the worse. I blame Hickory, our black cat. I think she's taking advantage of the situation (Bleys is getting older, we figured he was the culprit--but in the end, I think it's her).
I spend a lot of time cleaning cat pee. We got rid of the living room rug, my very favorite rug, because I simply couldn't get one area clean enough that they stopped being interested. It was hopeless. Now we have two annoying cheap rugs in the living room but OF COURSE they're not peeing on them. Not that I'm complaining.
But they're turning into Bad Cats--leave a jacket on the ground? Fair game. Sophia leaves open some knitting in a box? Boom.
It's time to haul it all out and start again. I can see the advantage to my parents' moving schedule. I've lived here 13 years and it shows.
More to come. Scrub a dub.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
8. I need a good mop
I have a beautiful kitchen floor. It is marmoleum, which is Forbo's reworking of the old-style linoleum. Many people use the word "linoleum" and mean any sort of sheet flooring, mostly vinyl products. But linoleum is a specific thing. It isn't vinyl. It is actually biodegradable. It is made of linseed oil and wood pulp, for the most part. When we replaced our kitchen floor, it was an excavation project--went through two layers of peel and stick vinyl (the very worst kitchen floor imaginable), a layer of plywood, a glued-down vinyl, another layer of underlayment of some kind, and below that, the original actual linoleum floor, this time sheet linoleum with a felt back, no worries about asbestos, a really pretty vintage mustard yellow and green checkerboard. I loved it, but my house had been a boarding house and badly abused--and this floor suffered greatly. So we used the original linoleum as the underlayment for the new click-together linoleum and I LOVE IT.
I love the feel under my feet, a bit of spring, so so smooth. We did a staggered chevron-esque pattern in a corn yellow and a nice subdued orange.
The only problems I've ever had with it involve scratching on the yellow--but I have buffed them out with steel wool and then made sure my chairs had felt pads on the bottoms. No big thing. I have the refinishing fluid, too, under my sink, which I will eventually use to improve the shine on those buffed areas, but overall, this floor is my favorite thing.
I need a good mop. I had a sponge mop but hated it. Got a string mop but it was over-engineered and twisted against itself and that may be an improvement but I never felt like it was all it could be. Then I picked up a string mop without the new-fangledness...cheaply, and it worked fine until it got upended in the kitchen closet/bathroom and the cats decided it was close enough to the litter box to stand in as one in a pinch.
I got home from Florida and washed the floor on my hands and knees. It was very gratifying, and very clean afterward. Very. Maybe the cleanest it has ever been. But yeah. Don't want to do that too often. I was mopping the floor about 4 times a week, but I haven't washed it by hand in a week. It needs it, and so I'm gathering my rags up to go do it again here at naptime today, even though it's the spring thaw and the immediate result will be footprints from the backyard making me crazy. I need a good mop. Astrid suggested Home Depot for the industrial mop and bucket, which would be perfect...except I would then need a place to store the wringer bucket. Hmm. Any ideas?
I love the feel under my feet, a bit of spring, so so smooth. We did a staggered chevron-esque pattern in a corn yellow and a nice subdued orange.
The only problems I've ever had with it involve scratching on the yellow--but I have buffed them out with steel wool and then made sure my chairs had felt pads on the bottoms. No big thing. I have the refinishing fluid, too, under my sink, which I will eventually use to improve the shine on those buffed areas, but overall, this floor is my favorite thing.I need a good mop. I had a sponge mop but hated it. Got a string mop but it was over-engineered and twisted against itself and that may be an improvement but I never felt like it was all it could be. Then I picked up a string mop without the new-fangledness...cheaply, and it worked fine until it got upended in the kitchen closet/bathroom and the cats decided it was close enough to the litter box to stand in as one in a pinch.
I got home from Florida and washed the floor on my hands and knees. It was very gratifying, and very clean afterward. Very. Maybe the cleanest it has ever been. But yeah. Don't want to do that too often. I was mopping the floor about 4 times a week, but I haven't washed it by hand in a week. It needs it, and so I'm gathering my rags up to go do it again here at naptime today, even though it's the spring thaw and the immediate result will be footprints from the backyard making me crazy. I need a good mop. Astrid suggested Home Depot for the industrial mop and bucket, which would be perfect...except I would then need a place to store the wringer bucket. Hmm. Any ideas?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
7. My First Lone Star
It was in the middle of machine quilting this one that I burst into tears. Not out of frustration. It was something else, something I didn't understand.
Something about working on a project that is for a person, not just a project that might one day have a home (like infinite numbers of baby hats, for instance), really puts a lot of mental energy into thinking about that person while you do it.
It wasn't until I started quilting this one that I realized it. Sure, I'd been thinking about Colleen and Tim while I quilted theirs, and probably some about Bevin while I cut up all that double knit, but it didn't strike me until I was finishing this one. Why do I keep thinking about Ian and Ashley and their baby? I kept asking myself. At the time, they were expecting a baby with Down Syndrome and we were all adjusting to this fact and worried for them. The whole time I was fiddling with this dang star (turns out, they are hard to make...) I kept thinking and thinking and finally just started to cry. I had to walk away and work on one for Mike's brother and sister-in-law. Got to think about weddings and San Francisco and cute apartments and kittens for a minute instead of heavy things.
As you probably know from my other blog, they lost the baby in early February and are still going through the emotional and mental calculus required to try to come to terms with that, all that. I know when I make this year's quilt for them, it will be tinged with this new sorrow and new worry and new hope. And it won't be a Lone Star. I need something easier, but more than that, I need something with a closer name. Something about a hearth or family ties.
6. Valentine Bento
Coming off vacation, not too creative. But Sophia wanted hearts in her bento yesterday and I at least had some hard fruits and veggies to oblige her. I do bento lunches every day now, for two girls. Sometimes they are awesome. Other times they are serviceable. This was serviceable. But I still have yet to find another way to get Maeve to eat everything...
The first two are two separate boxes of Maeve's lunch. Sophia had the two-bowl bento box yesterday so hers are more condensed. Yes, that's a chocolate covered strawberry. No, they didn't deserve them.
Monday, February 14, 2011
5. Bevin's Quilt of Shame
I hate double knit polyester. I don't like the feel of it, I don't like to work with it. It is a fabric of shame, something out of the tacky led-astray 1970s and earlier, when we were all told we'd be living better through science. I remember wearing double knit things as a child. My uniform skirt in 7th grade was made from the stuff. It is probably still a skirt somewhere in a diminished but still intact form. The stuff doesn't die.
When I was in college, I visited my friend Marita at her dorm and on her bed was a nine-patch quilt made of double knit. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes. This was kitschy and almost cute. The jewel tones and the black made it almost Amish in appearance. It still had an awful hand (feel) to it, but it was heavy and never looked unmade or in need of care.
So in the back of my mind I thought to myself, someday I'll make one. Just for the fun of it.
And it stayed on the back burner because there are too many pretty quilts to be made. Plus I found denim and corduroy to be far more visually appealing and soft to the touch if I wanted a big heavy utilitarian blanket. I made several denim blankets in college and a few since then--I have plenty of old jeans in the basement to make more. I have a brown corduroy Rail Fence quilt that I use as the "I am so cold and it's 3 in the morning pull this over me" blanket at the bottom of my bed. In order to make a double knit quilt I would have to, you know, procure double knit. Back burner.
Mike's grandmother died in 2004 and sometime that summer Mary Helen gave us something from her house--Mike didn't have any real requests and, having lived through hideous arguments, bloody knife fights, and molotov cocktail parties over who gets what out of which dead person's house, I wasn't going to say a word. But finally on the 10th time she asked, I said if there was a quilt that didn't have a home, even one in really bad shape, I'd take that.
She brought me a double knit quilt, a rectangle Around the World. Each rectangle was 1 inch by 2 inches and hand sewn in the diamond pattern. Hand quilted. Perfect in every way. Mary Helen's aunt had made it. It was lovely and garish and everything I remembered from Marita's example.
Bevin, of course, saw it at some point and died of jealousy. She's not a quilter because she's too much of a perfectionist. That makes for good knitting but not for good home quilting (sure, if you want to be in shows, perfection is key, but the sampler quilt on the kid's bed does not have to be perfect, it just has to be done).
So when I made my plan for quilts for Christmas, I admitted to Bevin I was going to make her a double-knit quilt, mostly because I knew she had access to double knit, working at a vintage clothing shop. She brought me bags full of the stuff, which I sorted by color family and mostly ignored all year. I planned out my pattern. I liked the Around the World but was afraid of so many pieces. I found a pattern for a Streak of Lightning setting of nine patch blocks in a 1930s reproduction quilt book, making them radiate from the center like Around the World but in a hexagon pattern of sorts. I didn't want all the seams of a 9 patch in that, but I love the sneaky triangle setting that creates Streak of Lightning. I counted the squares, found the clothing pieces with enough open fabric to cut however many 5 inch squares. I watched Hotel Babylon on Netflix and put her Quilt of Shame together.
And I must admit it is the most visually striking quilt I have ever made. Kind of a lumpy picture here, attempting to get as much of it as possible, hovering above the guest bed with my camera. But yeah. I kind of really dig it.
When I was in college, I visited my friend Marita at her dorm and on her bed was a nine-patch quilt made of double knit. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes. This was kitschy and almost cute. The jewel tones and the black made it almost Amish in appearance. It still had an awful hand (feel) to it, but it was heavy and never looked unmade or in need of care.
So in the back of my mind I thought to myself, someday I'll make one. Just for the fun of it.
And it stayed on the back burner because there are too many pretty quilts to be made. Plus I found denim and corduroy to be far more visually appealing and soft to the touch if I wanted a big heavy utilitarian blanket. I made several denim blankets in college and a few since then--I have plenty of old jeans in the basement to make more. I have a brown corduroy Rail Fence quilt that I use as the "I am so cold and it's 3 in the morning pull this over me" blanket at the bottom of my bed. In order to make a double knit quilt I would have to, you know, procure double knit. Back burner.
Mike's grandmother died in 2004 and sometime that summer Mary Helen gave us something from her house--Mike didn't have any real requests and, having lived through hideous arguments, bloody knife fights, and molotov cocktail parties over who gets what out of which dead person's house, I wasn't going to say a word. But finally on the 10th time she asked, I said if there was a quilt that didn't have a home, even one in really bad shape, I'd take that.
She brought me a double knit quilt, a rectangle Around the World. Each rectangle was 1 inch by 2 inches and hand sewn in the diamond pattern. Hand quilted. Perfect in every way. Mary Helen's aunt had made it. It was lovely and garish and everything I remembered from Marita's example.
Bevin, of course, saw it at some point and died of jealousy. She's not a quilter because she's too much of a perfectionist. That makes for good knitting but not for good home quilting (sure, if you want to be in shows, perfection is key, but the sampler quilt on the kid's bed does not have to be perfect, it just has to be done).
So when I made my plan for quilts for Christmas, I admitted to Bevin I was going to make her a double-knit quilt, mostly because I knew she had access to double knit, working at a vintage clothing shop. She brought me bags full of the stuff, which I sorted by color family and mostly ignored all year. I planned out my pattern. I liked the Around the World but was afraid of so many pieces. I found a pattern for a Streak of Lightning setting of nine patch blocks in a 1930s reproduction quilt book, making them radiate from the center like Around the World but in a hexagon pattern of sorts. I didn't want all the seams of a 9 patch in that, but I love the sneaky triangle setting that creates Streak of Lightning. I counted the squares, found the clothing pieces with enough open fabric to cut however many 5 inch squares. I watched Hotel Babylon on Netflix and put her Quilt of Shame together.
And I must admit it is the most visually striking quilt I have ever made. Kind of a lumpy picture here, attempting to get as much of it as possible, hovering above the guest bed with my camera. But yeah. I kind of really dig it.
4. A Hankerin
hanker: possibly from Icelandic "hanga" meaning to cleave to.
I mentioned in Post #2 that we rarely bought meat that didn't come from the CSA in our regular share, unless we really had a hankerin' for something. We have fish and deer and whatever comes from the CSA. Really, that's enough.
But last week at the CSA, it was mostly non-perishables. It's the end of the season, truly, and we're about to take our month long break. Garlic, onions, potatoes, but not much else even remotely close to fresh. Frozen green beans and eggs and ground lamb. Took all that--but I traded the popcorn and apple butter and a few other things. I traded enough that I looked at the other options--sprouting onions, a butternut squash--and asked her about meat.
When we get red meat in our share, it is either ground into burger, made into sausage of various kinds, or rarely cut up into stew meat. We never get regular cuts because they're more expensive--but we can always trade up. Never have before, although I've ordered things special like a brisket for Leo's baptism. So I asked her about meat and she took me back to the cooler. There were fresh cuts back there, not yet frozen, delivered that day. I took a chuck roast and never looked back.
The next day I seared it on the stove and put it in the crockpot. Deglazed the pan with white wine and then sweat 8 cloves of garlic. Chopped up a few carrots, a parsnip, 6 little Japanese turnips, and 4 or 5 large potatoes. Three stalks of celery. All of it into the crockpot. I poured more wine on top and set it to low. Two hours later, I added more wine and a little water. About an hour before dinner, a bit of cornstarch and water.
It was a crowd-pleaser. I can tell my kids are getting older--we had enough leftovers for Mike's breakfast but nothing more. Ah well.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
3. Put Up or Shut Up
That was the runner up title for this blog. Either do something or stop talking about it. But there's a pun there, because canning is sometimes referred to as "putting up for the winter." In the end, I quilt more than I put up jam and pickles, and so "ease in fullness" was the title. More on that another time.
But this is my "Put Up or Shut Up" Quilt. I made it for my sister Colleen this past Christmas. Only two photos here, neither of them really that good, alas (December was a busy time). A long time ago I purchased, on a whim, a kit to make a jar quilt. The shtick was using novelty printed fabric of foods, cutting them into a general jar-like shape, putting a little rectangle on top for the lid, and putting these blocks all in rows like they were on a shelf. I found the idea cutesy and endearing, but it aged in my unfinished objects pile (UFOs).
My sister Colleen, my youngest sibling, lives in Columbia, Missouri with her boyfriend Tim. They play bike polo and get tattoos. She works at a library and he works at a local TV station. They live in a little house I've actually never seen but heard described. I'm thinking probably a lot like me and Mike when we were starting out, when "shabby chic" would have been stretching the definition.
But unlike many of her generation (we are of different generations, seriously, I'm firmly in Gen X and she's whatever you want to call the people who come after that), she sews and cooks and cans. I taught her canning, both she and Tim, one summer afternoon with jalapeno jelly. She has the beginnings of a garden and it's all so quirky and anti-traditional and I love the idea.
So this quilt says "Put up or shut up" along one side; the jars of random food (whole watermelons, for instance, and in one case, a pair of garden gnomes) in the middle, and the other side has a few vignettes from housekeeping: a woman ironing, a woman cooking, a woman taking a bath. The border is clothesline fabric with a variety of unmentionables hanging on the line. The back? pictures of vintage patterns.
I barely quilted it, since this year was about the snuggly quilt (except Bevin's, but more on that later). I wanted these quilts to get carried to the couch and napped under, not hung on a wall and never touched. Not prize winners. Just fun stuff. But each jar on the quilt says something, mostly writing out the word "Kerr" or "Ball." But some, like the watermelon jar, say other things, like "WTF?" or just a question mark. Because the kit really stretched the idea of what one might possibly can. Whole radishes. Onions. Grapes still in bunches. Hence, I added the gnomes. I would put gnomes in a jar. Especially those two sly ones.
But this is my "Put Up or Shut Up" Quilt. I made it for my sister Colleen this past Christmas. Only two photos here, neither of them really that good, alas (December was a busy time). A long time ago I purchased, on a whim, a kit to make a jar quilt. The shtick was using novelty printed fabric of foods, cutting them into a general jar-like shape, putting a little rectangle on top for the lid, and putting these blocks all in rows like they were on a shelf. I found the idea cutesy and endearing, but it aged in my unfinished objects pile (UFOs).
My sister Colleen, my youngest sibling, lives in Columbia, Missouri with her boyfriend Tim. They play bike polo and get tattoos. She works at a library and he works at a local TV station. They live in a little house I've actually never seen but heard described. I'm thinking probably a lot like me and Mike when we were starting out, when "shabby chic" would have been stretching the definition.
But unlike many of her generation (we are of different generations, seriously, I'm firmly in Gen X and she's whatever you want to call the people who come after that), she sews and cooks and cans. I taught her canning, both she and Tim, one summer afternoon with jalapeno jelly. She has the beginnings of a garden and it's all so quirky and anti-traditional and I love the idea.
So this quilt says "Put up or shut up" along one side; the jars of random food (whole watermelons, for instance, and in one case, a pair of garden gnomes) in the middle, and the other side has a few vignettes from housekeeping: a woman ironing, a woman cooking, a woman taking a bath. The border is clothesline fabric with a variety of unmentionables hanging on the line. The back? pictures of vintage patterns.
I barely quilted it, since this year was about the snuggly quilt (except Bevin's, but more on that later). I wanted these quilts to get carried to the couch and napped under, not hung on a wall and never touched. Not prize winners. Just fun stuff. But each jar on the quilt says something, mostly writing out the word "Kerr" or "Ball." But some, like the watermelon jar, say other things, like "WTF?" or just a question mark. Because the kit really stretched the idea of what one might possibly can. Whole radishes. Onions. Grapes still in bunches. Hence, I added the gnomes. I would put gnomes in a jar. Especially those two sly ones.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
2. Scratch Cooking and Scritch Cooking
I cook from scratch most of the time. I don't have a lot of processed foods--my pantry and freezer are mostly full of ingredients. I have things like canned green beans and frozen vegetables--but not a bunch of frozen microwave meals and stuff like that. Got frugal one year, oh, when Sophia was a baby, and never looked back.
We belong to a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). Ours is a combined CSA--several local farms and bakers and so forth gather together, so we don't simply get beets all August long like the first CSA I belonged to. The Amish farmer makes the pickled beets and egg noodles and honey and peaches. My favorite pork farmer provides, well, pork. Little local farms have heirloom and hybrid tomatoes and cucumbers and all the produce that will grow in Missouri and Illinois. Dried beans and locally made tortillas and eggs and teensy little Japanese turnips and butternut squash and whole chickens and on and on. You can trade non-perishables (like the applesauce we never eat) for whatever they have on hand. You can buy extra. You learn how to cook just about anything.
That's what I mean by scritch cooking--cooking what you have even if you wouldn't have chosen it for yourself. Early spring brings greens. Lots of greens. And there are more, tougher, greens later in the summer into the fall. I NEVER ate greens before the CSA. Why would I? Bleah. But no. Olive oil and lemon juice. Or bacon and onion. Or baked in the oven with parmesan cheese. Mmm.
Beets no longer frighten me. Turnips, bok choy, pumpkin, ground lamb, salsa verde, whatever. I pack the fridge with our $50 share and it spreads through the week. No, that's not all I buy for my family to eat. I go to the local supermarket every other week or so--our weekly food bill is probably close to $120 for a family of 5 (well, Leo doesn't eat much...). Less in the summer, more in the winter. It helps, of course, that besides the bit of meat from the CSA, we have a deer in the freezer and some fish from my father-in-law and that's just about it meat-wise unless we get a hankering for something more interesting (rarely, to be honest).
Last night I made a pretty simple dinner of chicken in marsala based sauce with capellini (oh, there is the every-so-often trip to the Italian grocer, I AM SO SPOILED). For dessert, though, I made something that was definitely scritch: peach pumpkin cobbler.
I had a vacuum-sealed package of frozen peaches. I had a jar of peach butter that I was eying suspiciously. I'm not a peach fan. And I had way too much frozen pumpkin. So I dumped these three ingredients into a 9x13 pan and sprinkled it with lots of pumpkin pie spice and some turbinado sugar. Topped it with my mother-in-law's biscuit cobbler recipe and stuck it in the oven.
The girls wouldn't touch it. And I didn't care. I never make them eat dessert. Truly. And I sat down with a little mug of it, topped with just a few tablespoons of vanilla ice cream (because I was, frankly, apprehensive)....and ate the whole thing. It was like a pumpkin pie with a hint of summer and the salt in the biscuit top made it just lovely. Ah.
There was a time when I never would have done something so obnoxious as that. But I'm glad that time is over.
We belong to a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). Ours is a combined CSA--several local farms and bakers and so forth gather together, so we don't simply get beets all August long like the first CSA I belonged to. The Amish farmer makes the pickled beets and egg noodles and honey and peaches. My favorite pork farmer provides, well, pork. Little local farms have heirloom and hybrid tomatoes and cucumbers and all the produce that will grow in Missouri and Illinois. Dried beans and locally made tortillas and eggs and teensy little Japanese turnips and butternut squash and whole chickens and on and on. You can trade non-perishables (like the applesauce we never eat) for whatever they have on hand. You can buy extra. You learn how to cook just about anything.
That's what I mean by scritch cooking--cooking what you have even if you wouldn't have chosen it for yourself. Early spring brings greens. Lots of greens. And there are more, tougher, greens later in the summer into the fall. I NEVER ate greens before the CSA. Why would I? Bleah. But no. Olive oil and lemon juice. Or bacon and onion. Or baked in the oven with parmesan cheese. Mmm.
Beets no longer frighten me. Turnips, bok choy, pumpkin, ground lamb, salsa verde, whatever. I pack the fridge with our $50 share and it spreads through the week. No, that's not all I buy for my family to eat. I go to the local supermarket every other week or so--our weekly food bill is probably close to $120 for a family of 5 (well, Leo doesn't eat much...). Less in the summer, more in the winter. It helps, of course, that besides the bit of meat from the CSA, we have a deer in the freezer and some fish from my father-in-law and that's just about it meat-wise unless we get a hankering for something more interesting (rarely, to be honest).
Last night I made a pretty simple dinner of chicken in marsala based sauce with capellini (oh, there is the every-so-often trip to the Italian grocer, I AM SO SPOILED). For dessert, though, I made something that was definitely scritch: peach pumpkin cobbler.
I had a vacuum-sealed package of frozen peaches. I had a jar of peach butter that I was eying suspiciously. I'm not a peach fan. And I had way too much frozen pumpkin. So I dumped these three ingredients into a 9x13 pan and sprinkled it with lots of pumpkin pie spice and some turbinado sugar. Topped it with my mother-in-law's biscuit cobbler recipe and stuck it in the oven.
The girls wouldn't touch it. And I didn't care. I never make them eat dessert. Truly. And I sat down with a little mug of it, topped with just a few tablespoons of vanilla ice cream (because I was, frankly, apprehensive)....and ate the whole thing. It was like a pumpkin pie with a hint of summer and the salt in the biscuit top made it just lovely. Ah.
There was a time when I never would have done something so obnoxious as that. But I'm glad that time is over.
Monday, February 7, 2011
1. Hobbies & Chores
Some of what I do around the house is in the category of chore: mopping the kitchen, vacuuming, folding laundry, doing dishes. But some is in the category of hobby: sewing, quilting, cooking, knitting, photography. Some items fall into both groups, like organizing and rehabbing tasks (painting is more of a hobby, but being the second man on a job that Jake is in charge of is definitely a chore--and yes, I'm using the same pseudonyms on this blog that I have in the past).
Today is the first full day we are home after our vacation to Florida. It is a day of chore.
1. Mop the kitchen floor. My mop is defunct, so this task was completed on my hands and knees with rags and a sink full of hot soapy water. I love my kitchen floor and do not mind this task, but I would hardly call it a hobby. Mental note: buy a new mop.
2. Laundry. Laundry is always a chore at my house because the washing machine and dryer are in the basement; one line is in the basement and one (not this season of course) is in the yard. The ironing board and iron and all those supplies are on the second floor. Laundry gets folded in the library (second floor with the computer) or on one of the beds. And laundry gets put away on the first, second, and third floors. It is an exhausting neverending task. The only household chore I truly despise. Truly.
3. Figure out what to cook for dinner. While cooking is a hobby I enjoy, we currently have no food in the house, having emptied it out pre-vacation. So today's dinner will be pantry-based. That's fine, although my pantry isn't as stocked as it will be this time next year (it's one of this year's goals). I think I can create a spaghetti & red sauce with mushrooms. And a peach cobbler made of frozen peaches from the CSA. Maybe a carrot slaw? Hmm.
4. Tidy. Tidy tidy tidy. Wander through the house picking things up and putting them away.
5. Mail sorting. Ugh. The phone table in my front hall? Not my best attempt at feng shui, let me tell you. Right now it's a random pile of important tax papers, an overdue sewer bill (my sewer bill is always overdue), school things, netflix envelopes, and who know what else. That's my next task, actually. Heading down there now while Billy naps on my bed under a corduroy blanket I made several years ago (hobby). No time for that today. Perhaps tomorrow.
Today is the first full day we are home after our vacation to Florida. It is a day of chore.
1. Mop the kitchen floor. My mop is defunct, so this task was completed on my hands and knees with rags and a sink full of hot soapy water. I love my kitchen floor and do not mind this task, but I would hardly call it a hobby. Mental note: buy a new mop.
2. Laundry. Laundry is always a chore at my house because the washing machine and dryer are in the basement; one line is in the basement and one (not this season of course) is in the yard. The ironing board and iron and all those supplies are on the second floor. Laundry gets folded in the library (second floor with the computer) or on one of the beds. And laundry gets put away on the first, second, and third floors. It is an exhausting neverending task. The only household chore I truly despise. Truly.
3. Figure out what to cook for dinner. While cooking is a hobby I enjoy, we currently have no food in the house, having emptied it out pre-vacation. So today's dinner will be pantry-based. That's fine, although my pantry isn't as stocked as it will be this time next year (it's one of this year's goals). I think I can create a spaghetti & red sauce with mushrooms. And a peach cobbler made of frozen peaches from the CSA. Maybe a carrot slaw? Hmm.
4. Tidy. Tidy tidy tidy. Wander through the house picking things up and putting them away.
5. Mail sorting. Ugh. The phone table in my front hall? Not my best attempt at feng shui, let me tell you. Right now it's a random pile of important tax papers, an overdue sewer bill (my sewer bill is always overdue), school things, netflix envelopes, and who know what else. That's my next task, actually. Heading down there now while Billy naps on my bed under a corduroy blanket I made several years ago (hobby). No time for that today. Perhaps tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)