vom_marlowe

I've been slowly and carefully regaining strength.  It's taking much longer than I would have liked, but bodies can be like that.

As part of this mad health plan, I decided that if I gained enough strength, I would get myself a bike.  Today I went into the best-reviewed local bike shop.  (My criteria were, in order: reputable and women-friendly shop, woman specific bike designs available, upright comfort style, step through frame, within budget.)

They were super nice.  The guy asked me all kinds of questions about what I was looking for, my priorities, my ride plans, without telling me my wants were silly or stupid.  He did not get bike-snobby whatsoever when I said that stability and comfort were my most important criteria.  He just said, "Sure!  Lots of people who get back into biking prefer that.  Let me show you something that might work for you." 

He explained thoroughly and carefully each of the various bikes that might match my needs.  Then he helped adjust a trial bike and set me up in the parking lot with a helmet.  I played with the gears, I tried the brakes, I listened to the explanation of various options for adjustment.  He talked to me like I was an intelligent person who simply hadn't had the opportunity to learn this stuff before (which I hadn't).  He focused on what I said was important--stability, safety, and comfort.

The bike he recommended for me was customizable in a few key ways.  He explained that when I started riding I might feel more comfortable with the settings in such-and-such a way (lower seat, for instance, so I could put my feet on the ground easier).  After a month or so, he said, when I was more steady in my balance, that might no longer be necessary and I could switch to the (easier for actual biking) slightly higher seat. 

What a difference a good bike person makes! 

I picked her up an hour ago (they assembled one in my preferred color for me and then put on the rack in the back).  I had mom drop me off, then I rode her home (after another gentle test drive in their back lot).  It was glorious!  I really like the more upright riding position.  It was gentle on my knee, without sacrificing balance.  I was easily able to brake, turn, and change gears. 

When I got home, I felt confident enough to just tool around the back streets of my neighborhood for a few minutes.  I didn't want to overdo, so I pedalled slowly home and put her away. 

In case people are curious, I bought a Giant/Liv Sedona DX.  I considered several models, including the Cypress and some others, but this one had more stability.  It fits my body, and I can ride without pain.  She's a soft turquoise, which I liked better than the black for some reason.  I could have had a wider range of brands and styles if I'd been able to stomach the jerks at the other stores, but I felt it was more important to buy a bike from someplace I could trust to do a tune up or teach me to do various adjustments. 

So!  My plan is to (gently, gently) work up to riding her on small errands, such as to the farmers market or to the grocery for milk/cream.  For the first couple weeks, my only goal is to make it easy and fun to gently bike around the neighborhood. 

*zoom zoom*

Work is going through a massive reorganization right now.  I've been mostly absent for a bit, and, I'm sorry to say, I'm going to continue to be AWOL for a while.

I've been doing some sewing in order to relax, and I thought I'd share some of my progress.  In the past, I've made a few skirts, some pj pants, and the occasional ill-fitting top.  This last winter I took a class on sewing curves with my beautiful new machine, which I still love.  Unlike my 1960s Singer, the Brother has a bunch of fancy stitches, including an overcasting stitch, a stretch stitch, easy-to-do basting stitches, and so on. 

I love pretty dresses, but I have a hard time finding ones that fit me well.  Classic busty hourglasses may show up in illustrations, but they sure don't show up in most clothing lines!  I have a couple of April Cornell bias-cut dresses and a couple Holy Clothings and a best beloved bias-cut 1940s style silk and silk-lined dress that I've owned for twenty years (it is now far too big but I'm not getting rid of that puppy). 

So I bought a copy of Colette's Sewing Handbook, a couple of Burda and Simplicity patterns, some sale fabrics, and got to work. 

The first thing I learned was that I now remember why I hate homemade dresses: facings.  I loathe facings.  LOATHE THEM.  For those who don't know, facings are these weird flappy little bits of semi-lining that are supposed to make it possible for you to have smooth seams at necklines and arm-bands.  They do not work for me, and I find them scratchy and messy. 

My Burda style dress remains half-made, as I wrestled hard with those suckers.  I will finish it, eventually, but I set it aside in a fit of pique.

I moved on to the first project in the Colette handbook--the little scallop-edged skirt called Meringue.  I didn't much care for the scallops, but I wanted to learn the techniques.  The book itself is quite interesting, and the instructions are often well-thought out and interesting.  Unfortunately, I think they're an odd mixture of skipping basic steps (with darts should you cut them or not?  Patterns vary on this step!) and too basic (showing that fabrics come in stripes, dots, patterns of various depths). 

I needed a full yard of fabric less than the pattern called for, which was disconcerting.  But I followed the steps and made my skirt, and discovered that I should have used a much heavier weight.  I used a shot-cotton shirting, which has lots of drape, but the skirt's scallops were too soft.  I'd followed all the rules about fit, but I found the skirt's fit to be only 'OK'. 

So, I moved on to the Taffy blouse.  This silly confection is bias-cut and pretty, but kind of absurd.  It's intended to teach a new sewist about making French seams and working with fancy fabrics.  I decided to make an actual muslin to perfect the fit, and I'm glad I did. 

See, according to Colette's patterns, she drafts based on a C cup, where most pattern manufacturers do a B cup.  The Taffy blouse is a fairly loose generous cut (as her patterns go) with just a simple bust dart and shaping provided by the sides and two ties in the back.

My measurements fell quite nicely on her pattern measurements, so I made the regular size.  Except it did not fit.  At all. 

I'm not experienced enough to understand exactly what the problem was, but I can tell there was one.  It fit over my head fine.  In fact, the neck was floppy and too big, and the seams showed my bra straps all around (I hate that). 

The stomach was oddly poochy, even though mine is nicely tucked in.  The shoulders slid around.  The arm area was sort of...poochy?  And the hips were really really tight.  It was deuced odd.

In fact, you can see similar fit issues on the model!  See how the armpit area has several folds?  Strange, huh?  And there are folds at the stomach as well, because the shirt can't really keep moving down over the model's hips (and mine are much much larger than hers).  She has a fairly straight shape (similar sized shoulders, waist, hips, I mean) so if it was a bit odd shaped on her, imagine how it was on a La Curved Out shape like me.  Not good, let's just put it that way.  Here's another version on a dress-form.  I didn't want to directly criticize anyone else's fit, and certainly not their shape, so I didn't point out more.  Personally, I just don't think the fit on this blouse was well-crafted.

Compare the fit to this April Cornell blouse, which is very similar in basic construction (three pieces of fabric, made of a lightweight woven fabric).

While the Cornell blouse isn't 100% perfection, it's also not a bespoke garment!  The whole point of making fitted blouses from a fancy pattern is to get a good fit (or to use things like silk voile, ahem).  If Colette herself can't sew a beautifully fitted blouse for her models, how am I to sew myself a well-fitted garment, even with adjustments?

Here is another example of the well-fitted garments from her book.  Um. 

So, in the midst of struggling with the supposedly best new thing since sliced bread (aka Colette patterns), I succumbed to the Washi dress.  I wanted a nice comfy housedress to wear on the porch for post-gardening naps. 

My first go I made a wearable muslin from loud mumu-like quilt cotton on sale.  I made it maxi length and swapped in bias binding for all the stupid and senseless facings.  I also swapped in elbow length sleeves for the cap sleeves.

Imagine my surprise when, a couple hours later, I had a well-fitted attractive dress that needed only a bit of help with the hemming (it's hard to pin hems yourself).

The bust looked right.  The sleeves fit.  Everything went together without pain.  I don't care for pure-shirring, so, like others, I made an elastic casing.  It worked fine.

Feeling confused, I decided it must have been an aberration, so I made another one.  In plaid navy-black flannel.  This time I chose my own neckline (to be more modest and make sure my bra wouldn't show).  Despite this change and despite it not being on the bias, it still fit over my head, laid beautifully flat, and looked good. 

When I wore it to work, several people stopped me and asked where I had found such a stylish dress!

I made one in Amy Butler Love at tunic length for spring.  I adjusted a larger size for my mom and made it maxi length and sleeveless from an organic cotton sheet trimmed with white bias binding and with a pretty applique flower patch for style.  I made it again in tunic length in cream-floral with shot cotton bias binding.  I made it in ankle length, elbow-sleeved walking dress style in blue-green shot cotton. 

Even now, four yards of expensive Japanese double-gauze are whinging its way to me.  That'll be in a probably-sleeveless version for summer.  The lovely Art Gallery linen-cotton will get made into a short sleeved maxi length for my mom.  Another four yards of navy-blue voile will be made into a probably princess neckline version.  The black-white chambray weave linen blend is going to be an elbow length version with wide black bindings and, if I can manage it, some Alabama Chanin style embellishments. 

As will a selection of additional shot cottons, vintage sheets, spare old sheets, new organic cotton sheets bought on the cheap, and Kona cottons of various colors and combinations, as well as voiles, and, I suspect, a smidgen of French silk. 

This week, I decided to branch out again.  I picked up a pattern by Kay Whitt from Serendipity studios.  You can see some nice variations here.  (I also picked up the modkid kimono dress/tunic, but reaaaaaallly didn't like the construction instructions.)  I'm making the kimono's muslin from a sale Anna Marie Horner cotton voile in rich spring greens.

However, I do continue to ponder the issues with those Colette patterns.  Maybe I was doing something wrong?  Maybe my shape is really weird?  I don't know.  I know I would like to sew a well-made fitted dress or blouse, because it's so versatile, but....not like that. 

I bought a couple of additional Colette patterns when I was still on the high from reading (but not, alas, trying) the patterns in the book.  The instructions seemed so clear and the idea behind the patterns seemed so good (bust sizing up, yes!).  But now that I have examined them, I'm really not sure I want to make that wrap dress with its odd poky-out sleeve 'caps' and the deep V in back (it would probably show off my bra, ugh).  Peering closely, it doesn't look so great on the model, so.....

Should I even try the Pastille dress or should I assume she's not drafting to my shape?

Does anyone else think the fit of these patterns is off?  Do you have alternate pattern recs?

I have a couple Simplicity Amazing fit patterns, but they don't speak to me.  It's probably a fault in me, but it's all so fussy the way they lay it out, like you're marshalling armies instead of sewing seams, and instead of straightforward instructions, it's all very complicated tissue fitting and moving things around. on faith/trial and error And no, I'm not going to make the damn dress with facings three times, rip out the seams, and do it again.  Give me some guidance beforehand!   I did make a nice Khaliah Ali shift in Kaffe Fasset rayon challis, I should add, so I probably have my mumu needs covered.  What I'm looking for is guidance on making fitted clothes that actually fit.  The current trend seems to be making fitted clothes that wrinkle, pucker, or pooch.  Thank you, but I can buy that off the rack already. 

Speak to me, fellow sewists or clothing enthusiasts!

It is with great sadness that I must report that many of my new rose bushes have perished, brought down not by slugs or blackspot, but by the winter feeding habits of the Tomato Rabbit.  So called because she lives in a den next to the bed that houses the strawberries and one giant yellow pear tomato.  Now, I am very fond of the Tomato Rabbit.  I left the yellow pear in situ so that she could have a home for the winter.  I quit weeding over there.  I quit mulching.  I even felt guilty watering, since she would hop out, bedraggled and pouty and damp, when I turned on the sprinkler. 

There's lots of delicious rabbit-friendly food in my yard.  She could have all the grasses, the spare tomatoes, the nasturtium greens, the peppery flowers, the lilac bush in toto, but noooooooooo.  She had to eat all my rose bushes to the ground. 

Not content with a stem here or there, she mowed those suckers to the bare earth.  No leaves, no stems, just sad dead twigs about an inch long on most of them, and on two slightly less wretched specimens, the twigs are about four inches.  Only Radio Times has a decent branch left, but even that is just ten inches and so many other twiggy bits are exposed to the elements, I fear for its recovery.

I think they're all toast, except the already established Jayne Austin and Lady of the Myst, both of which are bethorned from stem to stern, thank goodness.

See, I read that sometimes the roses will come back, despite that kind of abuse.  However.....we managed to get a cold snap down to six, with a bunch of ice on top of it.  I think it's best to assume that losses will be heavy.  There's so many cuts and so little plant left and only part of a season to develop roots...

I have built large fences around each remaining rose, twig or not.  And now I know how poor Wise Portia perished (twice) this past summer.  She must have tasted good. 

The Pook, while an admirable hound in many ways, does not chase rabbits.  Well, he doesn't chase our rabbits.  See, the Pook classifies things as 'family' and 'not family'.  Family rabbits are not for chasing and must be protected against maurauding cats (we had lots of these in Waldo).  Non-family rabbits can be chased.  Same with mice, squirrels, ground squirrels, etc.  The Pook has an intense level of pack drive, a moderate territorial drive (you can see this because his reaction to postal visits increases dramatically when family is home), and minor amounts of prey drive.  I still remember watching the rabbits at the Waldo house graze on the grass while the Pook lounged sleepily in their midst, soaking sun into his old bones and keeping an eye out for cats.

In any case. 

What this all means is that I have to select roses again.  Which is always fun, but also dashed expensive.  

So, my fellow rosarians and rose fanciers and flower fiends, what say you?

The area I'm primarily filling in is the long edge of my privacy fence.  I'm basically creating a heavy border with lots of small climates for various critters and many perennial flowers. 

In the past, I selected many delightful naughty roses, and called it my slut garden (with deep affection).  Wife of Bath with her jolly laugh and pink petals is coming back for sure.  I'll probably get another Radio Times as well.  Beautiful pink blooms, rich scent, decent growth, lasts in a vase. 

I'd put in several peach roses, but wasn't overly impressed with most of them--they were either mostly yellow or white.  My favorite peach remained Lady of the Mist (really gorgeous shift from pink to apricot to almost lavender) and her scent is fantastic. 

The red I tried (Tower of London) died early, so I won't be bringing it back either.  I already have on Abraham Darby (in the front), so I figure one of him is plenty (he's already making a bid to climb the house, OK?) and the front also has a bunch of Zephyr-whatsits bourbons and an

I'm considering deep pinks, medium pinks, and rich apricots, plus one red.  I've decided I just don't enjoy white or cream roses.  I like bursts of color with my scent.  Also, I like the Austins with their rich scent, especially the myrh tones, but I'm happy to entertain other varieties.  Repeat bloom, good vase time, etc.  I have a Peace in front that I really love, so I may get another of those.  So beautiful, such great cut flowers, even if it does look spindly, I don't care. 

Naughty overtones in the name a big plus!

I'm doing a bit better, but still feeling quiet.  However, I'm actually feeling genuinely fannish (gasp, I know). 

While working on yet another quilt on my best beloved new sewing machine of ADA awesome, I ran out of audiobooks saved to my ipod.  Which is kinda shocking, since I had to upgrade my ipod when I blew past the 16 GIG limit on my old one.  Ahahahaha.  (When a cousin asked me what kind of music I liked, and I answered, 'All kinds!'  he seemed skeptical so I handed over my tiny charcoal overlord.  Then he looked at my playlists and slowly shook his head.  'You really do like all kinds.  You have the Bee Gees and Alice in Chains and Sigur Ros and and folky stuff.  And classical.  And pop.  And grunge.  Is this Barry White?'  'Well, yes,' I said.  'You never know when you might need some schmoozy soul, I always say.'  'Huh,' he said, still flipping through the albums.  But he quit trying out-music-geek me, which is pretty funny, considering everyone on that side thinks I am the most boring person ever.)

So there I was, working on a simple fabric experiment (more on this in another post) and I wanted something fresh to listen to.  I'd just inhaled a few lovely recs and hadn't figured out what to download next.  Besides, I thought, it would be fun to switch to TV and maybe give my ears a rest from the earbuds.

I flipped up the laptop and started poking through various free series on Netflix (too weird, too dull, too creepy, too depressing, hmmm) and then Amazon, and found myself remembering that a buddy had mentioned that Lucy Liu was in the recent American adaptation of Sherlock Holmes.  I enjoy Sherlock Holmes and I love Lucy Liu. 

I wasn't sure about the whole drug addict thing, since TV gets addiction wrong so often (House MD I am looking at you, yes) but....  Lucy Liu.  I promised myself I could shut it off at any time and gave it a go.

And I really enjoyed it!

The setup is simple and straightforward.  Sherlock is a recovering addict, Watson is his live-in sobriety coach, and together they fight crime. 

Sherlock consults for a police captain at the New York Police Department.  The captain is played as a solid, thoughtful cop who is both ethical and smart.  The captain's semi-assistant is a detective who, while also smart, finds Sherlock deeply irritating (mostly because Sherlock is, in fact, irritating). 

In this show, Sherlock is a know-it-all asshole, but not actually sociopathic.  He treats people in general rather poorly but he's not cruel and he has some hidden caring.  He searches for justice in part because he doesn't like seeing people hurt.  As time passes in the show, he begins to care (in his own way) for Watson and to push her to re-engage with the medical practice she left behind. 

Watson, for her part, begins as a competent but distant, surgeon who has now become a sobriety coach.  She's shown as very honorable and deeply ethical.  She won't discuss patients unless she believes their lives are at risk, she thinks of others' well-being over her own, and she is shown again and again as sensible and competent.  The disgrace that caused her to stop practising medicine is revealed, over the episodes that I watched, to be a mistake not of hubris or competency or what-have-you, but just....a mistake, as all humans are prone to make sometimes.  She feels deep remorse over the mistake, as all ethical people would, and she makes penance as best she can.

I've read criticism of Watson, as her character, as showing her as fallible, as various things.

But I quite like her, and I think the show portrays her quite well.  I've met many medicos in my day.  Very few admit to human fallibility beyond it being a theoretical possibility that happens only to other people.  It takes the very best, the most compassionate, to admit they can screw up.  And only by admitting the possibility for those mistakes can such mistakes be prevented.  This is dealt with in one episode quite well.

Sherlock himself is brash, snotty, sarcastic, and difficult.  But since he always came off that way in the books, I don't mind. 

Personally, I'm planning to watch the rest of the shows available on Amazon and, if I get a good plot bunny, might happily craft a bit of Watson fic. 

Also, to tie this back to my beginning....  I instantly the recognized the music as it came on.  What's my favorite independent Canadian cellist doing on a mainstream TV show?  I have no idea!  But there she was and continued to be, from episode to episode, her haunting melodies creating great theme and set music.  Check her out here: http://www.zoekeating.com/

ETA: If you happen to have fic/vids/podfic about Joan Watson being awesome, I sure wouldn't say no. 

My list for 2013.

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Yesterday, my mom and I went out to buy supplies to make a painted stained glass window for our bathroom.  It was a joyous occasion, and we'd planned to end the shopping trip with lunch at Whole Foods buffet, a treat mom and I have both eyed, but never tried.  However, we weren't expecting the Whole Foods to be packed (yes, we're neither of us big shoppers) so we went to the local Vietnamese pho place instead.

When we drove up into the driveway, I stopped the car and stared.  "Oh my god, look at that hawk!" I said.

Mom turned and visibly started.

There, in the middle of our yard, was a great big hawk.

I've seen hawks before, sometimes quit close, but never one so huge.  What was especially striking, however, was its fetching leg-warmer feathers.  Fuzzy fuzzy legwarmers all the way down to its tootsie toes.  Great big regal bird, absurd little 80s leg-fashion. 

After allowing us to stare upon its beauty for a bit, it leaped into the air, beating its great wings.  In its talons it held a squirrel who had perished by car that morning, but which was probably still 'fresh' because it is so freaking cold here. 

When I say the hawk was big, I mean it was huge.  Ginormous.  Nearly eagle-sized. 

It felt like being visited by an omen, and that is how I am taking it.  After considerable thought, I have decided that the hawk brought me a message of plenty even in winter, of using that which would otherwise be of waste, of not needing to strive so hard, but to accept the bounty that is here.  That while the squirrel might be sad to have perished, it would probably just as soon its earthly shell went to good use.

Also, being a librarian, I felt the urge to rush out and figure out what sort of hawk it was, since it was sure as heck not our usual peregrine falcon, lovely as those are.

I'm pretty sure we were visited by a Ferruginous Hawk.  Not only did our hawk have the light colored body, rusty-red edged wings, and bright v under the tail, it was also huge and 'booted'.  There are only two booted hawks in North America--booted being the fancy hawkish term for 'wearing adorable feathery leg warmers to the piggie-toes'. 

Ahem. 

May you have a year of plenty, of food even on one of the darkest days of the year, and if nothing else, may you have the most adorable piggy-wiggy fuzzy feets in existence.

Yesterday, I was stuck at home with a horrible cold.  Sniffly, sad, and pouty.  I laid on the couch, surrounded by rumpled kleenex and supervised by the dog.

A friend sent me a hot toddy recipe with the promise that it would make me feel much better.  I tweaked it (for science!) and I must admit, she was right.  I did feel better.  Enough to mooch around the block with the dog and then sprawl on the couch again.  And if it doesn't make me feel better per se, I certainly care a lot less.  Heh. 

In a mug, mix:
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Good for what ails you. 

I do not like eggs.

Not even a little bit.

In fact, I hate eggs.  I won't eat them, unless they're heavily disguised in a bread product.  Eggs are the only food that I refuse to eat (except for things that I'm allergic to, which doesn't count). 

When an angry friend who thought she was God's Gift To Cooking decided to serve tofu, dredged in yellow cornmeal and then 'fried' in Pam cooking spray on a non-stick skillet until the tofu got kind of funky tasting and the cornmeal bits turned sort of black and charry, accompanied by Uncle Ben's instant, frost-burned microwaved wet and slimy broccoli, I actually consumed that food with a pleasant smile like unto a statue.  I wasn't happy about it, but I did it.  I put that food in my mouth, chewed, swallowed, and finished my serving. 

But if I am served with a plate of eggs, I have to look away.  

They are gross, creepy weird things, and I do not like them. 

Which brings us to this evening.  The Pook's ultra-natural single ingredient special dog diet was delayed because of the storm, so he's been eating nothing but rice and yogurt for the past few days. Yogurt is one of the few proteins his IBD digestive system can have.  Normally, he likes the occasional yogurt meal, but this morning, he sighed over his dairy product and looked peaky.  The only other proteins are venison, duck, and....eggs.

So tonight....did I?( clicky clicky for the poll )

Here's a few things:

Food
I forgot to bring lunch the other day.  I'd heard that Taco Bell had released a new Chipotle-knockoff.  It was supposed to be as good, but much faster and much cheaper.  I don't normally eat traditional fast food, but about once a year I head out and try it.  So I wandered off to Taco Bell.  Ordered the chicken bowl and a backup Mexican pizza.  Good thing I got the pizza, because the bowl was horrible. 

It's supposed to be cilantro rice, roasted corn salsa, marinated chicken, lettuce, actually avocado guac, and lemony dressing.  It was, as far as I can tell: reconsituted Uncle Ben style instant rice, weirdly wet (saline injected?) chicken with dark brown marks that are almost certainly from a painted on marking rather than any kind of 'charring', weird frozen corn, some sort of deeply slimy....green....stuff, and tangy dressing with oddly gritty texture.  The lettuce was sad and limp. 

I ate the Mexican pizza gratefully.  It's salty and greasy and terrible, but it does not pretend to be anything but what it is.  Greasy salty Ameri-Mex fast food. 

Knitting
I joined a sock club again this year.  It started out great, as I mentioned, but it has since crashed and burned.  It's really depressing me.  The July shipment sock patterns still have errors, the September shipment went out in mid-October, the September shipment's sock pattern has errors, the mystery pattern not only had a major error but its update is now almost a week late, and the designer is basically off the grid.  I'm not naming names publicly, because I don't want to hurt the designer's rep, but it's really bumming me out.  It was really expensive, and while the designer did eventually say she had some life stuff happen, she also launched two other businesses this year.  I think she's just disengaged totally and kind of mentally 'moved on'.  Which I can understand, but at the same time, it was one seriously spendy club, dammit. 

Gardening
My tomatoes were still producing when we got what I suspect is the first big killing frost of the season.  We wrapped them with sheets, but I suspect it got cold enough to kill the main vines.  If they didn't croak last night, they will for sure tonight (it's going down to 26).  I'm going to take them into the garage and hope for the best for the last tomatoes hanging on the vine.  I also put in over a hundred bulbs in the back yard and another mumblety-mumble are on their way to my house for planting out front.  *rubs hands together gleefully*  My roses are still performing, and my Jayne Austin has yet again hoofed up to at least eight feet (!!!). 

As part of Hooded Utilitarian's blogiversary, Noah's running a Hatefest.  He invited us to write about the comic we thought was most overrated, that we hated the most, or that we found the worst in whatever way.

I chose Alex Ross and wrote four thousand words about why I think it's terrible art. 

(If you are uncomfortable with negative type reviews, this probably will not be something you'll enjoy.)