dressing stones

My Grandma Bradshaw was a country woman. My mother's mother, she was (to me) everything a grandmother should be. She was loving and gentle, warm and good. She milked the cows and gathered the eggs, baked the bread, made root beer and hand-dipped chocolates. She cooked huge meals for even huge-r crowds. She grew and harvested her own vegetables and then canned them for the winter. She snuggled me in her soft and comfortable lap and taught me to love to knit and crochet. It was under her patient tutelage that I learned to work the magic that happens with sticks and strings. 

When I first saw pictures of crochet covered stones last spring I was hooked (ha! I know but how could I not?) Beautiful and unusual, I felt drawn to the challenge of dressing some myself. My own form of mental exercise, I was addicted to dressing stones - figuring the pattern, finding the perfect stone, choosing a lovely silk or cotton thread. I gathered stones on walks and trips and with every stitch remembered my grandma.

One day as he watched me covering a stone Jonathon laughed at me gently and said of all the enthusiasms I have had, making clothes for stones was probably the strangest. That may be but I argue that it has to be one of the prettiest. At any rate, it is much more fun for me than sudoku.

In answer to the inevitable question of what they are for - to admire, silly!

I felt validated and a renewed commitment to my daily walk after I watched this cool video. Sometimes a reminder is a very good thing.

black bean hummus

When I had a houseful of little kids I thought I was pretty busy but I was content with 24 hours in a day. Recently I find myself wishing for a few more hours per day. There simply isn't time for all the sewing, gardening, helping, playing, sharing, reading, walking, cooking, consulting, decorating, designing, and travelling on my want-to-do. And that list doesn't even touch the cleaning and laundry that are necessary on the to-do list. I have been flat out busy for the last few weeks. Actually for the last month. Good busy, fun busy - hello a week in Vancouver among other great stuff - but not a minute not full. I have a (long) list of things planned to share but no time to sit down and share. It was causing me a tiny bit of anxiety but really, the important part of life is the doing not the telling about it. I reminded myself of that and presto! the little anxiety wrinkle smoothed out. I may be sharing the full-week's worth of rhubarb delights that I had planned (in my ever ambitious mind planner) for the middle of June in mid-summer when all the rhubarb is over and done, or the iced tea when hot chocolate would be more welcome, but this is only a forum for sharing stuff  not a formula for world peace. I just wish I could figure out exactly what it is that I do!


Anywho... having a minute I want to introduce my latest obsession. I know it is homely but, my word! this stuff is super-fantastic-good. I Love this - with a capital 'L'. The pepper and lime add a nice zip of heat that is nicely balanced by the warmth of the cumin and the freshness of the cilantro. Good with veggies, some yummy sprouted mixed grain chips, or baked pita wedges. Healthy and whole. Pretty perfect, I'd say. 


If you don't like cilantro (hard for me to understand but I believe it's true that some don't) you can either entirely forego the herb or better, replace it with parsley. The jalapeno pepper can be nicely replaced with 1/2 tsp of dried chipotle pepper.


black bean hummus
(from Cooking Light)


1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 Tbsp tahini
2 Tbsp water
2 Tbsp fresh lime juice
1 Tbsp olive oil
3/4 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp grey sea salt*
1 (15 oz) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 clove garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
1/2 small jalapeno pepper, seeded


Put all the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor; process until smooth. 


*Grey (or red) sea salt has important trace minerals - I believe it is worth using.

free

I'm free!!! Unchained. Finished the dress. And I can breath. It feels so good to have that project complete. Although I have made other wedding dresses, with the exception of the first  (made when I was a tender 19 and pretty clueless about how important an item it was) they have all been for for near and dear. Someone that I have loved to the moon and back. Although I think the world of the bride for whom I made this last wedding dress, she is a friend not family. Strangely that made the creation of this dress considerably more stressful - intimidating even. As I worked on the other dresses I imagined them as heirlooms, something to be a reminder of the relationship, the hope, and the love - not only of the wedding couple but between myself and the bride. Those thoughts made the tediously careful work that I consider an essential part of such a special garment seem light work. Ridiculously this time I fretted over what others would think of my effort - was it good enough, should I have done this or that in a different way? - and fretted enough that I spent several night dreaming uncomfortably about the silly thing. In many ways I ventured well beyond my comfort zone and often had to spin the mental wheels pretty hard to figure out what or how to do. In the end, the dress is beautiful and the bride thrilled. The wedding was yesterday. The atelier is in order once more. All is well. 


I meant to take some pics of the finished 'creation' but didn't. Bah! Wishing I had.

berry care

A tip to forestall the fuzzy berry issue: after buying and before storing berries, rinse them in cold water and then give them a short vinegar bath. Use 1 part cider vinegar to 10 parts cold water, dump the berries in and let them play for a minute or two before pulling them out. Drain in a colander for a few minutes and then store in the fridge. This should prolong their life quite significantly. It's a tiny bit of a pain but nothing compared to finding an expensive bunch of berries wearing fuzzy green coats just when you were all ready for one. Works for all kinds of berries. 

a good egg

Until recently I assumed (in the egocentric way that children assume) that everyone cooked - or at least knew how to cook - eggs the way that my dad taught me.  Somehow I became aware that not everyone knew the trick. Perhaps there are crowds that do but as there are at least some that don't, I thought I would share a simple, pretty foolproof method for a really good "fried" egg. It is actually a bit of a cross between poaching and frying with little or no fat involved so it is a healthful way to go. It's a bit of an art and takes a little trial and error initially but after that? Easy, peasy. I say 'art' and 'trial and error' but please do not be put off - note the bit and little that modify them. So this is the way my dad taught me...


Heat a frying pan over medium heat. If you are using a non-stick or stainless steel skillet a tiny bit (1/4 tsp) of oil or butter brushed over the hot pan is a good idea. If you are using a nicely seasoned cast iron pan you can skip the fat completely and use this trick* - before putting the pan over the heat run it under the tap and leave a Tbsp or so of water in the pan. Put the pan over the heat and wait until the water sizzles and is evaporated. Break your eggs into the hot pan and let them cook for about 20 seconds. Have a lid or cover of some sort that fits quite well over your frying pan ready (I mean right there in your non-dominant hand) and pour 1 Tbsp of water per egg - all at once - into the pan and immediately cover the pan with the lid. It will hiss and steam then settle down after a few seconds. How long to wait now depends on how well you like your eggs cooked. We like the whites firm but the yolks runny and that happens quite quickly - only a minute. Really just a minute so don't wander off or answer the phone or butter toast or set the table because you may be inviting disappointment - unless of course you like the yolks hard. In which case you might have time to make some toast but only just even then. Whichever way you prefer your eggs lift the lid and check after a minute. If it looks about right leave the lid off and the pan over the heat until the water is gone. Season with sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.


After a try or two you get the knack. I love eggs cooked this way. And I always think of my dad.


*The 'science' behind the way this works is that the pan gets hot enough that when the egg (or other food) hits the surface a reaction occurs between the heat and the natural moisture in the food. This reaction causes a steam-like effect, essentially lifting the food away from the pan, and preventing it from sticking. Cool, right?!

This may be totally unfair to my mother - the technique may be her thing but I remember being taught by my dad and so he gets the credit :) And if you and everyone else already know all about this, please excuse my silliness and never mind.

I have had the Nike Training Club app on my phone for months but it was kind of lost somewhere. Ysa was very efficiently bossing my phone around a couple of days ago and when she was done, lo and behold, there was the app that I had downloaded and promptly forgotten. (How is it that a 20 month old tiny person just knows how to unlock and navigate iPhone technology?) I decided to try a workout this morning .... LOVED IT!! Lots of options, good voice guidance, timer, video tutorials, bonus stuff.  If you haven't already, check it out. Sadly the app is only for iPhone and iPod Touch.

Waterton, wind, & pancakes

We spent two and a half perfect days in Waterton last weekend. The wind howled (like it pretty much always does in Waterton) and although the temperature was moderate for a Canadian mountain park in March it was still cold enough that I layered up like the Michelin Man before sticking my nose out the door of our cozy, quaint, totally cool cabin. Inside, we turned the heat up, snuggled into (sheepskin-upholstered!!) armchairs and read. Or talked. And ate. And then read some more. We watched the snow falling. All kinds of adventure. 

Blissful yes, but we decided to brave the wind, strap on the snowshoes, and see what we could see - or how we would do. Snowshoes and I are not very well acquainted but happily we got along just fine after I figured out that turning on a dime was not going to happen. The wind huffed and puffed and gusted and quite literally almost blew me down a couple of times. It was pure fun. Enough fun to go out again after lunch and snowshoe up the trail toward Bertha Lake. And then come home to curl up and read and eat and talk some more. Heaven!

For breakfast we had gluten-free flaxseed pancakes. Hearty, thick and fluffy. Crispy edges. Absolutely yummy. They are my current favourite pancakes - and satisfy enough of my requirements for a healthy breakfast that I look forward to them for special breakfasts. (I dislike eating - and will pass-up the nutritionally empty - all purpose flour pancakes drowned in faux maple syrup that too often pass for breakfast.) Topped with greek yogurt mixed with honey and ripe raspberries.... mmmwhaw!! 

gluten-free flaxseed wholegrain pancakes

(tweaked, from Gluten Free Girl)

7 oz  wholegrain gluten-free flour mix (about 1 1/2 cups + 1 Tbsp by my mix and scale)

1 oz ground flaxseed (1/3 cup)

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp sea salt

1/2 tsp cardamom

generous 1/2 tsp cinnamon

1 cup soured* milk (almond, coconut or cow's - your choice)

1/4 tsp almond extract

2 large eggs

1/4 cup melted butter 

Combine the flour mix, flaxseed, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and cardamom.

Whisk together the soured milk, almond extract, and eggs. Pour into the dry ingredients and stir. Add the melted butter and stir until everything is entirely combined.

Pour the batter into a greased (I melt the butter for the batter in the frying pan and scrape it out with a rubber spatula - leaves about the perfect amount of 'oil') frying pan. Cook until bubbles start to form and pop on the top of the pancake and the bottom of the pancake is golden. Flip and cook another minute or so.

Serve with yogurt and fruit, or maple syrup.

Serves 4.

NOTE: If gluten-free is not something  you pursue, feel free to substitute wheat flour. If you use white flour though, you will pass up the goodness of whole grains. And seriously? These are amazing with the gluten-free wholegrain mix. You'll love them if you give them a spin.

* 1 Tbsp lemon juice or vinegar and enough milk to equal 1 cup.

walking

I used to walk every day. Summer, winter, rain, sleet, or snow. Okay, not sleet but everything else as long as the temperature was above -14 degrees C (my own arbitrary cut-off). I walked for miles each day and I loved it. I loved the fresh air filling my lungs and cooling my cheeks, the slight burn in my muscles, the way the knots in my mind worked loose and I could figure out what it was that I was thinking. Somehow after Merin died I lost track of that. I stopped walking and forgot to start again. Then the sand of life just sifted into the void that was left where I used to walk. Pretty soon it was filled up and I didn't even notice that there had been a spot for that in my life. Sometimes I would look out the window and think about a walk but the time and the inclination just....well, not there. But in the last few days, with our unseasonably spring-like weather, my walking shoes have been whispering to me again and I heard them. I went for a walk on Monday and the tips of my ears were hurting with the cold wind that blew but it felt so good - to walk. I was out again today. It felt so good again.


I walked by a few women and said hello and we smiled. They each looked like they would be lovely. I had a fleeting thought that it might be nice to walk with someone - to have a walking buddy. Then I thought about how I treasure the time I have with myself when I walk and I know I probably won't look for a walking buddy. I kind of need the time to remember who I am, to figure stuff out. I walk fast - just like my dad - but my mind slows down so that things seem much clearer. I come home feeling smooth and mellow. 


It is good. To go walking again.

reading: my stroke of insight

I know I am a little late to the party with this book but better late than never. I have been reading Jill Bolte Taylor's My Stroke of Insight over the last few days. So many intriguing ideas and bits of information! I love the way she relates to her brain and her body - the reverence for how amazing we human beings are, the respect she has for the way in which brains and bodies respond to the demands placed upon them every day. It is more than interesting to read about the progression of her recovery, to see that her re-learning so closely follows the same path as a child's first learning. To wonder if an infant has a similar experience. 


I am busy in my own mind trying to fit some of her pieces together, to see if they work for me. The idea that we run some 'programs' over and over - even when they make us unhappy or unsuccessful - just because they are familiar, intrigues me. And the better idea that we have control over which programs we run. I am trying to figure out how to control (really control) not running those unproductive loops in my own head. It's good work.


I am soooooo grateful that I can read, that the world is there for me to see -when I open a book. I love reading! and I am so relieved that after close to a year and a half of total disinterest in something that had previously been a joy, I have found my reading self again. 

wrapping

For a long time I pretended to myself each Christmas that next year I would get my presents wrapped earlier - earlier than Christmas Eve. Finally I have realized that I like the last minute wrapping frenzy. Almost as much as I like the activity of wrapping presents. And I do honestly love it. I like selecting the paper and box, the ribbon or string, the tag, the embellishments, and then making it all come together in a beautiful package that says 'I love you'. A beautifully wrapped gift is an affordable luxury, one that is within the reach of anyone with the patience to take a little care and use the tiniest bit of imagination. 

I don't think gift wrapping needs to be over the top to be wonderful. It just needs to be neatly executed. Quality ribbon goes a very long way. As do cool tags. Some years I have spent more time than I should have crafting tags of one sort or another (always a ton of fun), other years I have purchased shipping tags or even price tags. This year I decided to use nothing but brown kraft paper or white newsprint paper to cover my boxes, red or black baker's twine, 'ribbon' strips torn from a piece of black cotton, bits of faux Christmas greenery, and velvet ribbons from my ribbon collection*. The tags (which I love) are from here and here. 

Simple. Beautiful. Done.  (Well..... almost. Just four left to wrap. And that is a record for me!)

*Every year I use, save, and re-use 'real' ribbon. I have a large plastic bin full of the glorious bits. It may be a bit eccentric (or maybe just plain weird) but my loved ones accept and even anticipate the collection and saving of ribbon. I like to think of it as being green.

the tree

The tree is decorated. We don't have a decorator kind of tree. It doesn't make a design statement or have a theme. It is just filled with tiny little pretty things that hold precious happy memories and somehow it all works and feels just right in my home. I love it.


The little rocking unicorn joined our collection when we lived in Osaka in 1991. It is pretty and delicate - hand blown, one of a kind. When I unwrap it each year I remember five sweet fresh little faces, just the way they were that year. It survived the disaster of the falling tree (at about 3:00 AM one year there was an awful crash - the tree just....fell over. What a mess!!!), magically our little unicorn was unscathed. It is such a Japanese Christmas decoration but we love it more because of that. Why Japanese? A rocking-horse is a reasonably typical Christmas theme but honestly, do you think unicorn and Christmas in the same breath? and then rockers on it? There you go! 


December 3rd is marked by the memories I take out as I decorate the tree.

helping

I had planned to decorate our Christmas tree this morning. I started last night but due to my ridiculousness it takes hours (yes hours with an 's') to just get the lights on the tree. A pre-lit tree would save tons of time but I love our tree and so every year, despite swearing each previous year that I will not be so weird about the lights ever again, I find myself (with no-one but myself to blame) wrapping each branch carefully with lights so the cords are as invisible as I can contrive. I am a prisoner of my own obsession but finally last night, after trying to convince myself that it would be just fine to walk around the tree stringing lights in my wake, I have decided to embrace my weirdness (re: lights at any rate) and I actually enjoyed the process. That still left me with all the rest of the beauty to bestow on our Christmas tree this morning.

Sadly - for my tree-decorating plans - David had a flat tire on his way home last night. He was obliged to do the entire changing-of-the-tire-in-a-business-suit routine at the side of a busy artery in glaggy, ugly, traffic-y slush. Poor guy. And this morning greeted him with a heavy list of things that had to be done asap. But the tire needed to be fixed or at least attended to. That is where these two stories meet.


The concept of reaching out to others at Christmas is pretty embedded in the season. After all, we are celebrating the birth of Christ. As those who profess to follow Him it should really be all about what we give rather than lists of what we hope to receive. It is all too easy to fall into the trap of making lists of shopping to do (for the gifts we want to give), wrapping, baking, parties, decorating, making, and whatever else makes up Christmas for us. And in that trap forgetting (or turning a blind eye) to simply help others. To perform small acts of service that will make life a little better for someone around us. Sometimes we even do something big or bigger - the gift to charity (which is wonderful to be sure), the trip to the homeless shelter to help prepare or serve a meal - but charity does not need to be something that can be quantified on a tax return or signed up for somewhere. Most significantly it occurs where it is all too often harder to give. At home. There are always small acts of kindness that can be offered. Little sacrifices that can be made. Often at such an insignificant cost to the giver that it seems churlish not to give. But it does require a desire to love unselfishly and a willingness to put aside personal agendas for a moment or two. That is something that I am always reminded of at Christmas time - a yearly prompting to recommit to being a better, more loving, genuinely kind person. To be Christ-like as much as I can be.


So, my tree is still un-decorated but the tire issue is taken care of. I hope it helped relieve a little of the load for David - I know it helped me. On the 2nd day of December, my advent activity was just a little loving help. A good part of Christmas.

For Katie

A year ago I was asked to teach a class on 'De-Cluttering'. De-cluttering your life, your home, your head. Almost the moment I was asked I thought of five statements that define how I approach organizing just about anything. The next thought was 'okay, that should take about 5 minutes of the 50 that I have been asked to use' and I have nothing more to add. I guess I de-clutter my head a bit too well - or maybe it is just empty minimally decorated. Anyway, I asked Jonathon to do a bit of graphic design for me and he came up with these amazing designs for my favorite quotes - which made me look good and like I had enough credibility to be listened to for 50 minutes. I love the designs so much that I have kept them and rotate which one I display.

I had them printed on cheap, plain, white paper (because I planned to recycle them after the class) at a local shop that prints flyers, signs, blueprints and stuff. It cost about 5.00/print for a 24" x 36" size.

When I was staging Merin's house for sale, there was a blank wall in the kitchen that wanted something on it and I used the quotes/statements again. This time I simply printed them on cardstock (at home), put them in Ribba frames from Ikea, and hung them in a row of three. The young family that bought the house liked them enough to request that we leave them.

A few weeks ago my sweet friend Katie asked for the files so that she could have some of the quotes printed as well. Here they are in jpeg. format Katie. If you - or anyone else - wants them in a pdf. file let me know and I can email them to you. ( Sadly, one can't post pdf. s on blogger)

I think my personal favorite is the the last one by William Morris.

Photos are by edenlangpictures. 

Graphic design by Jonathon Litchfield. 

Do I not have extremely talented offspring?!! And so good to me too. Thanks guys - love you.

The Price of Motherhood

A couple of weeks ago I picked up a book called The Price of Motherhood by Ann Crittenden. It was on a clearance table in the bookstore for a ridiculous price and the title was so provocative that I simply couldn't not buy it. In odd moments since the purchase I have thought - what is the price of motherhood and how would one compute it? What is the value of nine months of pregnancy? or the price of loss of sleep? How about the hours of agony during childbirth and the inevitable hours of anguish during adolescence or illness? Can a price be put on the frustration of dealing with a willful, irritable and irrational toddler (or 15 year-year-old)? Or for what price would you give up your youthful figure?

There are of course bits of parenting that are quite simple to put a price tag on. Those are the ones that can be and often are "hired out" so to speak. The chauffeuring, the cooking, the laundry, the tutoring - the things that others can do in lieu of ourselves, that may or may not make a difference in the final product. Those things are easy to calculate. Have the other things lost much of their value because we don't have any way to quantify them? 

If one is going to assign a price to motherhood though, how about totting up both sides of the balance sheet? What would you pay for a baby's first belly laugh? or that moment of exquisite joy when a new life is delivered into this world? Could there be any way to value a child's sense of wonder? the precious gift of their trust and love? What price watching any single moment of growth let alone the entire journey to adulthood and independence? What valuable could be traded for the sublime treasure of the nurture of another human being?

As I contemplate what I see as the balance sheet I cannot help but feel that motherhood may be undervalued in the market place and in our society because it does not generate an immediate return in terms of ability to purchase or consume goods. Perhaps though there is no monetary value precisely because there is so much of the role that cannot be bought or hired, that no power on earth can buy or pay for. I know that there is not even one single moment of my motherhood that I would exchange, change or give away - not even the painful ones. It is in each moment that I have paid for what I value above all else and what nobody can take away from me for it is exclusively mine - the love I have for each unique child and the love I know they return to me, along with the knowledge of their lives and selves. 

To be fair and honest I haven't yet read the book - at least not more than a cursory skimming - and I don't know what Ann Crittenden has to say. I suspect she places a lot more value on the role than perhaps she once did as the title of another book she has written is If You've Raised Kids you Can Manage Anything. This post is not a book review or in any way a rebuttal, just a few of my thoughts as I have considered the joy and honour of motherhood, and thought about Mother's Day. I do enjoy the attention of my husband and kids as they express the love they feel for me every Mother's Day. David has created a strong tradition of honouring me and yes, I love it. But secretly? you should know that every day is mother's day for me. I am so blessed.

Happy Mother's Day to every woman who has nurtured or hopes to nurture a child - their own or another's. Motherhood is a sisterhood. Celebrate! And the price of motherhood? Well, of course it is priceless ... as opposed to without value. Really, we all know that.

A Blank Canvas

The marriage is safe! Not only did we weather the test of three days spent painting together but I am very well-satisfied with the result. (Actually, I love it!) It was a heckuvalotta work though, way more than I naively anticipated. All the windows that let in the beautiful light, the built-in cabinets, the volume in the stairwell and entry....enough challenges to satisfy even the most ambitious amateur painter. Now I have a beautiful - and currently very - blank canvas. What to put where? (and can I really put a hole in those beautiful white walls?!) 

(I promise more pictures of the after but since I am a little vain, only after I finish the finishing touches - which may be a week or two. Life must go on and is totally oblivious to my decorating desires.)

Nerves

Tomorrow we are painting and I am nervous. I have been thinking about doing this for a year and I think it is going to be great. But what if it is a disaster?

When we built this house 8 years ago, I chose the perfect grey. It is warm, a bit moody, and looks good in every light. I have loved the colour and still do (hence the hesitation) but the walls have seen a lot of life and could use a little love, so if we are going to the work and expense of painting it seems like a good time to make a change. Plus, aside from the 8 years here, the colour is not much different than the grey I used in the house before this (5 years). Maybe time .... but this is an open concept house so it is all or nothing. 


Wish me luck! .... 'cuz if it is a disaster, I am going to have to pretend it's great - or find another husband ;)


(Photos by Eden Lang )

"If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...."

No mice in my pantry but the general concept of how one thing influences another - as in "If you give a mouse a cookie he's going to ask for a glass of milk. When you give him the milk..."* - kept running through my mind as I worked there last week. For months I had intended to clean out, revamp and organize my walk-through pantry. I had big dreams but to realize them I needed skills beyond my own (with power tools) and so the dreams were dreamed but that's as far as I got. Then I lost patience with that scenario and moved on to Plan B - which I was fully capable of in the best Little Red Hen fashion. Perhaps not as glamorous a plan but do-able. 

I love the concept of a pantry. Well-stocked and ready. Buuut...with very little effort a pantry can so easily become a mess of past-dated canned goods, the relics of meals planned but never made. Yummy treats, evidence of hunger-impulse buying, crowd the shelves and mock. And the odd things that just find a home there because, well, where do you put that anyway? At any rate my pantry was full and (being a walk-through) also busy. More or less tidy, some semblance of order - it worked, sometimes pretty hard. But it wasn't what I wanted it to be - a pantry that was pretty and really worked, the way I wanted. And finally, the real driver I must admit, was I wanted to have my favorite collection of cookbooks a bit closer to the battlefield. In the pantry.

So, Plan B: just clear a spot on a shelf and move in a few cookbooks. I figured that should take about half a day. It took me the better part of a week. Sadly. Because if you move this stuff to this shelf, then you will want to put all of this stuff on that shelf, which will require that that shelf be cleared and sorted. Then you will realize that all the herbs and spices should be rebottled and labels made, so you have to go to the store to buy more sticker paper. Making the labels means looking for the right font and fiddling on the computer. Then back down to the pantry and deciding that after all, it would fit better to put those things on this shelf. Arrghhhhh! You get the picture. Very "if you give a mouse a cookie"-ish.

At the end of the day, the pantry looks and works much better. Maybe not a magazine spread but I was so excited when I finished that I was ready to put a sandwich board out on the street and offer tours of my pantry. lol. (David dissuaded me.) Is there a moral to this tale, some great life lesson? For me there is. Every time there is a 'cookie' asked for or given, there will be a chain reaction. Some of those reactions are ever so small - small enough that I hardly notice. Other times, so great that I am afraid I will choke on even a crumb. The sorting out, evaluating, and rebuilding can take far more effort and time than I had hoped for. The end result may not be exactly what I had in mind at the beginning but hopefully, I will arrive at a pleasant place - with peace and satisfaction. Yes, I am thinking of Merin, our family and relationships.  I'm not sure but I think you want to be a little cautious about giving cookies to mice.

*If You Give A Mouse A Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff (one of our very favorite children's books.

The Nursery at Merin's House - Before and After

Before (obviously during demolition - the previous glory of the room was, sadly, not recorded)

Before there was a pregnancy this room was "the baby's room".  Every choice, from paint to pictures, was made with joy and anticipation. It was a huge pleasure and privilege to help Merin prepare this space for  her very much desired baby. Before Ysa's birth, we were not aware of  her gender. That meant all the choices were made so that either "color" of baby - pink or blue - would be comfortable here; we would just tweak things by adding vintage metal trucks or tutus and bows after the big reveal.  Merin wanted a room that would be a reflection of not only her taste and style but also comfort and love. The budget was tiny but that just makes the challenge a lot more fun. 

When the house was purchased there was clean but worn broadloom covering the oak flooring. We stripped off two layers of wallpaper and found evidence of two previous paint colors under that! There was an unattractive home-made* looking desk mounted (most unfortunately) very securely to the wall. This room was ever so tired and dark. So off with the wallpaper, out with the carpeting, and on with the fun.

We chose a very soft, warm grey for the walls. The floors were refinished a dark nutmeg color (as throughout the house) and Jonathon contributed the sheepskin rug that I had pieced together for him (by hand! ) from individual sheepskins several years ago. On a trip to the flea market we found the super-fantastic vintage rocking horse and knew it was meant for this baby's room - the original blue paint was perfect. I had made the linen drapes for our apartment in Tokyo and when they were spiffed up by adding a wide band of striped yellow, grey and black fabric to the bottom they were perfect here as well. 

The pictures are actually vintage children's books from the 1950's. The format is the same as a comic book and the illustrations were so delightful that we wanted to use them as art. Off to Ikea for Ribba frames, down to my stash for some great textured paper from Korea (the paper looks like matelasse - with a lovely 3D texture - perfect again!), a little measuring and cutting and our masterpieces were done. 

Merin's teddy bear collection was retrieved from the wooden box of her childhood treasures - saved for this very time. (The flowered bear in the crate was made from a curtain that hung in Merin's great-grandmother's home and wears a collar made of a hand-crocheted doily that the same grandmother made, the little white bear on the shelf was made by her Aunt Shan.) Jonathon was recruited to do the design for the vinyl lettering on the roller blind and the wall above the dressers. A little more primping and....Ta da! Finito!

A lovely little room to welcome a sweet baby in this happy home. Not long used but Merin loved it and loved every moment of preparing it for Ysa. Happily, Ysa still sleeps in the same crib, with the same quilts her momma made, surrounded by the same nursery rhyme quotes, framed books and teddy bears. Just in a different house. But still a happy home - filled and overflowing with love. Sweet, lucky baby.

photos courtesy of eden lang pictures with the exception of the 4th (obviously iPhone pic) Thanks once again Eden!

* I am not opposed in any way to DIY - I just prefer things to look hand-crafted rather than home-made! Big difference.

Kitchen 'Rehab' at Merin's

With lots of assets (great curb-appeal, location, space and potential) this little house had a few less desirables. The most obvious of which was the kitchen.

It was, to not put too fine a point on it, a disaster.  Totally unworkable from a current perspective. And that isn't even getting into that it was just ugly. The cabinets were too small and too few.The layout impractical. The counter space was almost non-existent. And  ugly! How about the faux brick combined with the dark faux wood paneling? As we 'excavated' we discovered three different layers of laminate on the counter, two layers of vinyl flooring over top of the original linoleum tile and yes, two layers of wallpaper along with evidence of 3 separate color schemes in paint that was revealed as we worked. Wow! The original owners really liked to redecorate. (and who am I to knock that?!)

For the better part of the year that Mike and Merin owned the house the kitchen looked like it does above. At the end of May - a month before little Ysa was due - they pulled everything out right back to the studs. So there was nothing - no water, no counter - not even the vinyl flooring. The hope was to have the kitchen in and finished by the end of the summer. It was a challenge for the end of a pregnancy and even more so for a new mom but Merin was willing to do it and  looked forward with excitment to the finished and functional kitchen.

Merin and I spent many hours brainstorming ideas, drawing the plan, shopping for finishes and fixtures. It was my idea of great fun. It also put me in the unique position of being able to execute the plan after the accident - to know that I could finish it so that the kitchen looked just like she wanted it to. I did. And it does. It is, I think, pretty fantastic.

Now there is a very functional, large, deep single bowl sink to replace the shallow and entirely frustrating itty bitty sink. And the dishwasher we found is a huge upgrade over the old portable. We chose to install the shelf instead of upper cabinets. It kept the kitchen much more open and is a younger, hipper look. The countertop is Richlite, a material that is fantastic. It will not burn or stain, is more forgiving than stone if things are dropped on it and has a softer, warmer appearance. 

We mounted upper cabinets on the wall under the windows. This addressed several issues - the baseboard radiant heating that could not be moved, the need for more storage, as well as the need for countertop. Brilliant solution. I like the way it 'floats' - visually light and open. (Merin and I had planned to paint the space between the windows with blackboard paint - a great graphic hit -but since the house is no longer for them but resale that was deemed a potential hazard. I still thought it would be amazing. Oh well.)

The new ceramic tile floor is practical and, in my opinion, cool-ly graphic. The kitchen light fixture was original as is the lovely chandelier over the table. We thought it was fun to keep that bit of history - and, after shopping, we really liked them.

Merin would have been beyond thrilled with the result, the product of all the dreaming, working, and sacrifice of convenience. I have felt comforted (although at times it was very hard) as I have had the opportunity to do this for her. For me it has been important. I wish she could have used this kitchen but she was so happy here in this little house of love and dreams even without it. I remind myself that it doesn't matter so much where we live but how we live. I can be grateful and therefore happy or I can not. I choose. Every day. I can honor her memory by choosing well.

It is a very good kitchen. Sweet, practical, beautiful, cool - perfectly Merin.

I know that most of  you have likely seen many of these pictures from Eden's blog but since I was so intimately involved in the process of getting to the "After" stage, and since who doesn't love to see the "Before"s, this is my offering.

I acknowledge all the hours of help and work contributed by Merin's brothers, father and uncles, they selflessly gave many,many hours doing work that was not fun. It was a gift of love.

All after photos are courtesy of edenlangpictures. Thanks so much Eden for your beautiful work.