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dragonlady7This morning I sat and thought a lot. I looked at the Internet, and I thought about things. And it was actually really wonderful: I had a few thinky breakthroughs about projects I want to make family members for Christmas, and I discovered a wonderful website called The Blueprints, which features technical drawings of all kinds of things, the idea being that it's for use by modelers etc. I was delighted to find a Willys Jeep technical drawing, as that's the kind of Jeep my Dad has and was driving the nephews around in-- and is the kind of Jeep he used to drive us around in. I took my first documented ride in that 1947 Jeep (painted yellow, but originally Luzon Red, Dad has discovered-- he's found out that typing its model number into Google yields all kinds of info, including where to find his serial numbers) the day before I was born, in 1979. (Mom thought a good bumpy off-roading trip might... encourage me to come out into the world. I don't know what her logic was but it apparently worked.)
Anyway. The face-on version in this drawing is getting slightly simplified and embroidered at least once, for my father, and probably twice, for my nephew, and possibly a third time for my other sister, who I think it would cheer immensely. I've redrawn it twice already in my attempts to simplify it. The proportions of that mirror elude me. I have reference photos of Dad's, though, with adorable children inside. Oh right, that's what I was going to do this weekend-- put those online. Well, I just have to figure out how to do it in Lightroom. Hush, I'm nearly there. It's not that I'm old and senile and can't master new software quickly...
So this morning was lovely. Then we had a quick and light breakfast and went skating. Yes! Z willingly put on his skates, which are the reason I do roller derby (He wanted skates, retro ones with the wheels side-by-side. "You'll never use those. No," I said, and didn't let him buy them. He then cunningly convinced me to join derby. I bought him skates when I bought mine. I was right, though; his skates are coming up on 5 years old and are still not broken in. I'm about to replace the skates I replaced mine with already; 2 seasons on a cheap skate boot is about the limit). He also picked out the path. It's the UB Bike Path, which originates right near his workplace-- University of Buffalo's north campus-- and goes 5.2 miles through some lovely woods next to Ellicott Creek, and emerges near Niagara Falls Blvd., whence it meanders into Ellicott Ck. Park.
I had half-expected we'd turn around at the 3-mile mark or somesuch, and went prepared for such. But Z decided if he was in for a penny he'd be in for a pound. Despite the fact that other than going for occasional walks he hasn't actually strenuously worked out in years, he let me set the pace for the whole way. We stopped a couple times, mostly to regroup, retie laces, and drink water. We ran out of water at 8 miles, which I'd sort of planned on-- there was more water in the car. We had more issues with the periodic bridges, made of warped and splintery wooden planks with up to 2-inch gaps between them. (Skate wheels aren't much bigger than that, so if one caught the gap just right while you were moving you'd stop dead and faceplant. Unnerving to attempt to navigate, as that kind of fall would probably break your ankle.) We also had trouble with some of the paving, which had dissolved into gravel-- mostly it was glass-smooth and lovely, but in places even if you were tucked, knees bent, skates facing forward, you'd vibrate so hard your skates would leave the ground and come down not quite facing forward. I only took a knee once, deliberately, when the path abruptly swerved sharply downhill and around a blind curve and I heard a bike coming-- I swooped onto the grass and landed on my kneepads. Z doesn't wear 'em, though-- as most skaters outdoors don't, but my reflexes to take my knees are so extremely well-developed that I've made myself a promise never to put skates on without pads. I broke it last year for a photoshoot and was sorry (holed a pair of stockings I loved, too-- one of the rare sets I don't skate in so as not to snag)-- so henceforth there are no exceptions. You want a picture of me in my skates, I'm gonna be wearing kneepads. I'll skip the elbow pads and the helmet, and maybe even the wristguards-- maybe-- but the kneepads go on with the skates. You're born with a pair of kneecaps and you pretty much die with that same pair, and I aim for mine to last as long as possible. (My Gram's got artificial knees. What a racket-- they came loose and got wobbly within a decade. And they never did bend more than 90 degrees! No thanks!)
Poor Z had noodley legs by the end, but refused a tow or a push (I offered nicely, I thought). I took him out to a late lunch at the Pizza Plant, where we devoured a plate of Curried Garden Nachos (exactly what it sounds like-- and it's fantastic, too) and a whole medium pizza, somewhat to the waiter's surprise ("You guys gonna need a box for that?" "Nope." "Oh! Well, uh, don't let me stop ya."). Then I took him home and he went to bed and passed the hell out. Fresh air and exercise? Not in his usual regimen.
I blew several hours this afternoon puttering and looking at the Internet. There's a store, with a storefront in NYC and an online shopfront, that maintains a blog that very frequently puts up tutorials, with pictures, on how to do various crafts. I don't really have the same aesthetic at all as The Purl Bee, but I can't stop reading that blog, because it keeps teaching me things. It's written a bit preciously but I mean, by craft-blog standards, it's not at all bad. And I just found out how to do mitered corners without it even being a big thing. I printed off 4 or 5 things to make later, and wrote down directions for two or three more. (Warning: going into "print" on the blog entries and then printing on your printer will only give you the first page. You have to copy-paste the rest into some program that'll actually print. I don't think that's on purpose, but that's what it does in Chrome on Snow Leopard.)
I wouldn't ever use the color combos they do and most of the prints they use are more funky than I can handle, but I definitely admire the practical not-scary attitude. Sometimes methinks they're putting on a bit more humbleness than they really have (the only time they admit to hating some thing is in explaining that they learned some trick and love it now-- which was charming the first time but after spending 3 hours on the blog I'm wondering how you can genuinely go through life like that-- oh right, it's a rhetorical framing device, I get it now), but it does help you feel like the tutorials, even when they're for giant strawberry-shaped pillows or some shit you'd never actually want in your house, are actually do-able. (The chick who made hand-stitched napkins for every single place setting at her wedding? For real? You're nuts. I say this as a person whose sister made table runners for every table at her wedding. That? Reasonable. She used a machine. A Singer Featherweight, but a machine nonetheless.)
Anyway. I'm stealing their herringbone stitch handkerchief idea for one of my in-progress handkerchiefs, only I'm doing it in white linen on white linen, because unlike the author of the post who claims to have hated the fabric until she suddenly randomly loved it (wow that rhetorical pattern again!), I actually kind of do hate that fabric, and think the colors she matched with it are kind of ugly. I wore red and black striped tights, a royal blue shirt, and baby blue socks with a black skirt and Tevas (until I put the skates on) today, so I have no sense of style. But I still wouldn't blow my nose on something that funky. (I say that not to pretend snarkily to be superior, but to be honest: I am nowhere near cool enough to understand why those hankies are awesome. The blogger is some NYC chickie who makes a living sewing things, blogging about it, and ostensibly working in a retail store; I work retail in Buffalo. I report, you decide whose fashion sense you trust more.)
Anyway. The face-on version in this drawing is getting slightly simplified and embroidered at least once, for my father, and probably twice, for my nephew, and possibly a third time for my other sister, who I think it would cheer immensely. I've redrawn it twice already in my attempts to simplify it. The proportions of that mirror elude me. I have reference photos of Dad's, though, with adorable children inside. Oh right, that's what I was going to do this weekend-- put those online. Well, I just have to figure out how to do it in Lightroom. Hush, I'm nearly there. It's not that I'm old and senile and can't master new software quickly...
So this morning was lovely. Then we had a quick and light breakfast and went skating. Yes! Z willingly put on his skates, which are the reason I do roller derby (He wanted skates, retro ones with the wheels side-by-side. "You'll never use those. No," I said, and didn't let him buy them. He then cunningly convinced me to join derby. I bought him skates when I bought mine. I was right, though; his skates are coming up on 5 years old and are still not broken in. I'm about to replace the skates I replaced mine with already; 2 seasons on a cheap skate boot is about the limit). He also picked out the path. It's the UB Bike Path, which originates right near his workplace-- University of Buffalo's north campus-- and goes 5.2 miles through some lovely woods next to Ellicott Creek, and emerges near Niagara Falls Blvd., whence it meanders into Ellicott Ck. Park.
I had half-expected we'd turn around at the 3-mile mark or somesuch, and went prepared for such. But Z decided if he was in for a penny he'd be in for a pound. Despite the fact that other than going for occasional walks he hasn't actually strenuously worked out in years, he let me set the pace for the whole way. We stopped a couple times, mostly to regroup, retie laces, and drink water. We ran out of water at 8 miles, which I'd sort of planned on-- there was more water in the car. We had more issues with the periodic bridges, made of warped and splintery wooden planks with up to 2-inch gaps between them. (Skate wheels aren't much bigger than that, so if one caught the gap just right while you were moving you'd stop dead and faceplant. Unnerving to attempt to navigate, as that kind of fall would probably break your ankle.) We also had trouble with some of the paving, which had dissolved into gravel-- mostly it was glass-smooth and lovely, but in places even if you were tucked, knees bent, skates facing forward, you'd vibrate so hard your skates would leave the ground and come down not quite facing forward. I only took a knee once, deliberately, when the path abruptly swerved sharply downhill and around a blind curve and I heard a bike coming-- I swooped onto the grass and landed on my kneepads. Z doesn't wear 'em, though-- as most skaters outdoors don't, but my reflexes to take my knees are so extremely well-developed that I've made myself a promise never to put skates on without pads. I broke it last year for a photoshoot and was sorry (holed a pair of stockings I loved, too-- one of the rare sets I don't skate in so as not to snag)-- so henceforth there are no exceptions. You want a picture of me in my skates, I'm gonna be wearing kneepads. I'll skip the elbow pads and the helmet, and maybe even the wristguards-- maybe-- but the kneepads go on with the skates. You're born with a pair of kneecaps and you pretty much die with that same pair, and I aim for mine to last as long as possible. (My Gram's got artificial knees. What a racket-- they came loose and got wobbly within a decade. And they never did bend more than 90 degrees! No thanks!)
Poor Z had noodley legs by the end, but refused a tow or a push (I offered nicely, I thought). I took him out to a late lunch at the Pizza Plant, where we devoured a plate of Curried Garden Nachos (exactly what it sounds like-- and it's fantastic, too) and a whole medium pizza, somewhat to the waiter's surprise ("You guys gonna need a box for that?" "Nope." "Oh! Well, uh, don't let me stop ya."). Then I took him home and he went to bed and passed the hell out. Fresh air and exercise? Not in his usual regimen.
I blew several hours this afternoon puttering and looking at the Internet. There's a store, with a storefront in NYC and an online shopfront, that maintains a blog that very frequently puts up tutorials, with pictures, on how to do various crafts. I don't really have the same aesthetic at all as The Purl Bee, but I can't stop reading that blog, because it keeps teaching me things. It's written a bit preciously but I mean, by craft-blog standards, it's not at all bad. And I just found out how to do mitered corners without it even being a big thing. I printed off 4 or 5 things to make later, and wrote down directions for two or three more. (Warning: going into "print" on the blog entries and then printing on your printer will only give you the first page. You have to copy-paste the rest into some program that'll actually print. I don't think that's on purpose, but that's what it does in Chrome on Snow Leopard.)
I wouldn't ever use the color combos they do and most of the prints they use are more funky than I can handle, but I definitely admire the practical not-scary attitude. Sometimes methinks they're putting on a bit more humbleness than they really have (the only time they admit to hating some thing is in explaining that they learned some trick and love it now-- which was charming the first time but after spending 3 hours on the blog I'm wondering how you can genuinely go through life like that-- oh right, it's a rhetorical framing device, I get it now), but it does help you feel like the tutorials, even when they're for giant strawberry-shaped pillows or some shit you'd never actually want in your house, are actually do-able. (The chick who made hand-stitched napkins for every single place setting at her wedding? For real? You're nuts. I say this as a person whose sister made table runners for every table at her wedding. That? Reasonable. She used a machine. A Singer Featherweight, but a machine nonetheless.)
Anyway. I'm stealing their herringbone stitch handkerchief idea for one of my in-progress handkerchiefs, only I'm doing it in white linen on white linen, because unlike the author of the post who claims to have hated the fabric until she suddenly randomly loved it (wow that rhetorical pattern again!), I actually kind of do hate that fabric, and think the colors she matched with it are kind of ugly. I wore red and black striped tights, a royal blue shirt, and baby blue socks with a black skirt and Tevas (until I put the skates on) today, so I have no sense of style. But I still wouldn't blow my nose on something that funky. (I say that not to pretend snarkily to be superior, but to be honest: I am nowhere near cool enough to understand why those hankies are awesome. The blogger is some NYC chickie who makes a living sewing things, blogging about it, and ostensibly working in a retail store; I work retail in Buffalo. I report, you decide whose fashion sense you trust more.)
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Date: 2010-09-07 07:39 am (UTC)/Eva
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Date: 2010-09-07 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-07 10:36 pm (UTC)"Deliberately twee" definitely describes just about all of the crafts in that blog. I like a lot of things that skate along the edge of that sentiment, but they seem to be going for it a little harder than I ever would. I don't want to carefully hand-craft something that's so painfully fashionable in its unfashionableness right now that in five years I'll have to throw it out because it's sooooo 2010 back when we all decorated like that.
... Sometimes I miss New York City, and other times, I really don't.