I make some things. This is one of them. This is a method, more than a recipe, since I don't think I've made it the same way twice and this is from memory, in fact. So here goes.
7 cups water
3 cups bourbon
2 cups strong tea
12 oz can frozen lemonade
6 oz (or 12 if you forgot and got the 12 oz can) can frozen oj
1 1/2 cups sugar
Combine the day before. Freeze. Let sit out a bit before serving. Some folks put it in a glass and pour white soda over it. Some folks drink it straight.
My mom's has about half the bourbon and less water--it's more fruit juice and sugar, basically. It's snow cone for grown ups. My version is snow cone for grown ups that makes you slur your words and lose at mah jongg.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
72. Christmas
Once I've recovered from Christmas, I will post some photos of the things I wrought this Christmas season: 3 afghans, a table runner, placemats, a circular quilt, minky dot pants, doll clothes, fleece blanket, 2 magnet boards, an embroidered picture of the book cover for 21 Balloons. But for now, I am simply reflecting on the insanity of doing all of this in December.
I had a stressful autumn, and I kept putting off Christmas until later. I made little bargains in my head: I don't have to make Advent banners this year, so I'll have more time...Fiona's older and can help on some of the tasks...and other total BS that we tell ourselves to keep us from screaming every moment of the day.
Thanksgiving came with an inflamed masseter jaw muscle and no ambition to do anything. December began. December ticked away. I had doll clothes done, and two afghans ready to seam, but really? Nothing. And then it was December 16.
I made a nice little list. I am never happier than when I'm making a nice little list. I had it all worked out. I would get it done. Of course, this didn't account for visits from friends or sisters (both of whom I very much wanted to sit and chat with, and did so, knowing I would pay for it later). It didn't account for showering or cooking meals or running to the pharmacy at the last moment or any of those things. It was solid sewing from start to finish. And a little spray painting.
But I got it done, all but one of the afghans, and that I finished at my leisure on the 26th and handed to the recipient (Jake's brother Sam and his wife Michelle).
I knew I had lost my mind when I had the prep work done for a set of placemats for my mother-in-law, and I looked at it and thought, "this should be a quilt. A round quilt." And I went for it. Wha?
So this year, for Christmas 2012, it is getting underway in February. Because it really only took me a few hours to make that round quilt. And it's insane that I waited until the morning of the 24th to start it. Insane. I could spend a week in February and get 4 quilts done and feel better about myself and about life and my jaw muscles and all that. Wouldn't it be nice to sit still the last week before Christmas?
I get better at Christmas every year. I adjust and learn how to make things better for myself and folks around me (Jake, kids, our families, friends). This one, however, came at great expense to my sleep schedule and mental stability. And that's just crazy. Like the whole semester has been.
But things are looking up in many directions, finally, and I have to start this in February. No more denial, no more superhuman feats of sewing.
2010 was the year of the quilt. 2011 was more generalized. I do better when I have a focus. 2012 will be the year of the traditional quilt. I need to go back to the basics of quilting. I need to go to Luckenbach, Texas. If you understand that, good for you.
I had a stressful autumn, and I kept putting off Christmas until later. I made little bargains in my head: I don't have to make Advent banners this year, so I'll have more time...Fiona's older and can help on some of the tasks...and other total BS that we tell ourselves to keep us from screaming every moment of the day.
Thanksgiving came with an inflamed masseter jaw muscle and no ambition to do anything. December began. December ticked away. I had doll clothes done, and two afghans ready to seam, but really? Nothing. And then it was December 16.
I made a nice little list. I am never happier than when I'm making a nice little list. I had it all worked out. I would get it done. Of course, this didn't account for visits from friends or sisters (both of whom I very much wanted to sit and chat with, and did so, knowing I would pay for it later). It didn't account for showering or cooking meals or running to the pharmacy at the last moment or any of those things. It was solid sewing from start to finish. And a little spray painting.
But I got it done, all but one of the afghans, and that I finished at my leisure on the 26th and handed to the recipient (Jake's brother Sam and his wife Michelle).
I knew I had lost my mind when I had the prep work done for a set of placemats for my mother-in-law, and I looked at it and thought, "this should be a quilt. A round quilt." And I went for it. Wha?
So this year, for Christmas 2012, it is getting underway in February. Because it really only took me a few hours to make that round quilt. And it's insane that I waited until the morning of the 24th to start it. Insane. I could spend a week in February and get 4 quilts done and feel better about myself and about life and my jaw muscles and all that. Wouldn't it be nice to sit still the last week before Christmas?
I get better at Christmas every year. I adjust and learn how to make things better for myself and folks around me (Jake, kids, our families, friends). This one, however, came at great expense to my sleep schedule and mental stability. And that's just crazy. Like the whole semester has been.
But things are looking up in many directions, finally, and I have to start this in February. No more denial, no more superhuman feats of sewing.
2010 was the year of the quilt. 2011 was more generalized. I do better when I have a focus. 2012 will be the year of the traditional quilt. I need to go back to the basics of quilting. I need to go to Luckenbach, Texas. If you understand that, good for you.
71. Zip
I did two things for the first time yesterday. I used a zipper foot on my sewing machine. I replaced the zipper in a sleeping bag. So I suppose it's only really one thing, in two parts. But I spent a long time sewing yesterday.
Mike's aunt's mother-in-law has a robe, an old terrycloth robe, very simple construction, and it is her favorite. No other robes equal this one. They either don't lie flat enough along the neck, or the pockets aren't square pockets. So I was handed a robe and minky dot fabric and asked to make another just like the first. And I did. I hate tissue paper patterns, so I laid out the fabric and the robe folded to specific pieces in order to get the diagonals correct. I made 4 pairs of pajama pants this way already for Christmas, and I don't think I'll use a tissue paper pattern again. Bleah.
So anyway, I made the robe while Jake's uncle Johnny sat in the living room dropping not so subtle reminders of his political bent. I was glad for the task.
I finished it quickly--about two hours including a short break for dinner. I had brought one other project to accomplish this break. The sleeping bag zipper. Fiona and Daisy each have sleeping bags that I found at a resale shop on separate occasions. They are flowered and vintagey looking on the outside and lined with a thin flannel. Fiona's is blue and pink; Daisy's is red and green. I love them. They look like something my grade school friend Nicole would have had at her house for sleepovers. They are not cold weather sleeping bags, but they are cute and lovely. I had one, not with the flowers, but in a wine-red-brown, that was very much like these. And so I like them. I've always been a bit wabi-sabi about things. Things that are old and a bit shabby but still functional? Keep them and love them.
But this blue and pink sleeping bag's zipper was in bad shape. First, it stopped threading well and so I made a stopper with a zigzag stitch. Then the zipper, an old metal one on a stiff fabric tape, began to disintegrate. The teeth fell off in chunks (like my worst dental nightmare). Fiona brought it to me and asked what we could do.
I worked in a fabric store and I knew sleeping bag zippers existed, but I'd never replaced a zipper. I sat down next to Jake's brother Kevin and his wife Liz, playing scrabble on my mother-in-law's new Nook tablet. The couch is such that you kind of sink towards the middle. Anyway, I clung to the side of the couch, half-watched Thor that was playing on the TV, and ripped out the old zipper.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I have this old zipper foot in my sewing box. I think it is probably from my grandmother. I gave it a try. I broke three needles in the process but the third one stayed intact and it worked. It did. I got the zipper sewed on and then rebound it with the original matching bias binding. The zipper is black, where the original was white and metal, but it works. It zips so nicely.
So now all the projects are completed and it's time to think about next year. Because as God is my witness, I swear on the grave of my scary great-great-great grandmother Jenny, may she haunt me persistently if I fail to fulfill my promise, that I will start Christmas sewing in February this year.
Mike's aunt's mother-in-law has a robe, an old terrycloth robe, very simple construction, and it is her favorite. No other robes equal this one. They either don't lie flat enough along the neck, or the pockets aren't square pockets. So I was handed a robe and minky dot fabric and asked to make another just like the first. And I did. I hate tissue paper patterns, so I laid out the fabric and the robe folded to specific pieces in order to get the diagonals correct. I made 4 pairs of pajama pants this way already for Christmas, and I don't think I'll use a tissue paper pattern again. Bleah.
So anyway, I made the robe while Jake's uncle Johnny sat in the living room dropping not so subtle reminders of his political bent. I was glad for the task.
I finished it quickly--about two hours including a short break for dinner. I had brought one other project to accomplish this break. The sleeping bag zipper. Fiona and Daisy each have sleeping bags that I found at a resale shop on separate occasions. They are flowered and vintagey looking on the outside and lined with a thin flannel. Fiona's is blue and pink; Daisy's is red and green. I love them. They look like something my grade school friend Nicole would have had at her house for sleepovers. They are not cold weather sleeping bags, but they are cute and lovely. I had one, not with the flowers, but in a wine-red-brown, that was very much like these. And so I like them. I've always been a bit wabi-sabi about things. Things that are old and a bit shabby but still functional? Keep them and love them.
But this blue and pink sleeping bag's zipper was in bad shape. First, it stopped threading well and so I made a stopper with a zigzag stitch. Then the zipper, an old metal one on a stiff fabric tape, began to disintegrate. The teeth fell off in chunks (like my worst dental nightmare). Fiona brought it to me and asked what we could do.
I worked in a fabric store and I knew sleeping bag zippers existed, but I'd never replaced a zipper. I sat down next to Jake's brother Kevin and his wife Liz, playing scrabble on my mother-in-law's new Nook tablet. The couch is such that you kind of sink towards the middle. Anyway, I clung to the side of the couch, half-watched Thor that was playing on the TV, and ripped out the old zipper.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I have this old zipper foot in my sewing box. I think it is probably from my grandmother. I gave it a try. I broke three needles in the process but the third one stayed intact and it worked. It did. I got the zipper sewed on and then rebound it with the original matching bias binding. The zipper is black, where the original was white and metal, but it works. It zips so nicely.
So now all the projects are completed and it's time to think about next year. Because as God is my witness, I swear on the grave of my scary great-great-great grandmother Jenny, may she haunt me persistently if I fail to fulfill my promise, that I will start Christmas sewing in February this year.
Monday, December 19, 2011
70. Brussels Sprouts Kids Will Eat
Start with young Brussels Sprouts. What is up with the capitalized name for this vegetable? Is it named for Brussels, like, the capital of Belgium?
Anyway.
Start with young Brussels Sprouts. Cut in half.
Saute in a hot pan with olive oil. Salt and pepper them lightly. They will turn brighter green and yellow at the center.
Take off the heat and powder them with Parmesan or Romano. Google wants to capitalize those words, too.
Serve hot. Fiona's comment: I wish we had more.
Anyway.
Start with young Brussels Sprouts. Cut in half.
Saute in a hot pan with olive oil. Salt and pepper them lightly. They will turn brighter green and yellow at the center.
Take off the heat and powder them with Parmesan or Romano. Google wants to capitalize those words, too.
Serve hot. Fiona's comment: I wish we had more.
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