Storms and pups and pockets

 Last evening Gary had to be out without Billy the Pup, normally his constant companion, and asked me if I'd go over when it got dark make sure Billy was in and close the patio door, left open a  bit for her to come and go. When it starts getting dark, crickets come in. 

I'm sure he knows I'd do what I did, go over earlier, play with her and later close the door and leave her safely indoors. We'd had storms and I wanted to see she was okay.

Playing with her involves being climbed on, scrabbled at, yanked about and licked, all at the speed of light. I held her firmly to massage her ears, and try to get her to slow down enough to be petted.

I think she really needs a companion puppy, but I don't think I'll mention it to Gary. I don't think he's up for another handful. She seems to be trying to get humans to be honorary pups. 

Today it was finally cool enough to drive to the next town to the  library and return the  Nigel Slater, which I really enjoyed and got good ideas from.  

I tend to lose my driving nerve a bit when I haven't driven for a couple of days, so I had to force the issue to do it this morning, very wobbly. Home again and I was, as  always, glad I'd done it.  I am a good driver, just a reluctant one. It's better for the car and me to get out regularly though.

Anyway here's today's weaving progress, almost at the end of this panel, two more to go.

And a baby cucumber, from my neighbor, grated and mixed with malt vinegar as a salad.

I don't like cucumbers much but fresh picked and in best vinegar, okay.

I hope my thanks were courteous but not effusive enough to encourage her to offer ten more 

Then here's today's Pocket Progress

Cut out, assembled, now pinned in place ready to make this skirt a lot more useful.

And though I'm usually winnowing, here's a buy that just arrived. 

I have finally, after decades of using folded blankets, invested in a real, 100% New Zealand wool ironing blanket. I pressed the new pockets, and what an improvement on improvising. 

The old blankets can be dog rescue blankets, if I can get a YouTube taker.

 Happy day everyone, sometimes you need the real thing, not a substitute. This idea can work in a number of contexts, left to your imagination..

And I expect you know the puzzle answer was

SP!

At the beginning of each word.

Yesterday, weather, food, today onward

 The weather yesterday, after high heat and dewpoint 78, went like this

And here's how it arrived

The white areas are rain too heavy to see through. Thunder, lightning.

Just as well Handsome Son had decided not to go to the shore anyway.

Later he came over with a large sausage and pepperoni pizza from the local cook while you wait store, with soda. I decided to avoid all opportunities for work, and we used paper plates, paper napkins ( white, with linen napkins blue, placemats, red)

And disposable bowls for the ice cream, white, strawberries, red, blueberries, blue dessert. There's a theme here. 

Handsome S had plenty of everything, but a token strawberry and no blueberries, well, I offered. It all went well, and he left with a couple of leftover slices, leaving one for my breakfast today.

 After bfast I  did a bit of weaving

altered the yellow skirt to fit better, then caught up on blog reading and wouldn't you know it, Magpie's Mumblings is at it again. 

There's a link today reminding me I can recycle the surplus newspaper Gary gave me for the skirt pattern, by pulping and making s bit of recycled paper. Soooo, here we are

Watch this space.

And  then I embarked on pockets for the independence skirt.

Left pocket in progress, right completed pocket.

In the middle of which Gary dashed in to borrow a spray bottle, something to do with his showerhead, I didn't get involved, just handed one over and let things work out. 

He also tells me those towelly things are decorative bath towels, so now I know. I thought decorative stopped at fingertip towels, the kind you dry your hands on your clothes rather than use them.

So we're here, reading another frothy, frilly hotweathery book

And here's a hotweathery puzzle. Or a wintry one if you're in the southern hemisphere.

Happy day, everyone, sometimes it's better to let things unfold, I tell myself. And one day I'll do that. I expect the weather report from Hell will be very chilly though.

A bit of a spin, into pocket, and history

Yesterday I did the All Creatures Great and Small matinee, first two episodes. I can't watch longer than that without getting in a blur. I have the whole season to watch.

I really like very much the casting. They acknowledge the vet's a Scot, give Glasgow vet college its due, and the characters talk like people, not like quaint old parties.  And Helen sounds local, not like a poncy London visitor. These are huge improvements on the sadly classist original production.

But the location is further west in the Dales, not the most beautiful part where the original was filmed. It's still lovely but you can do better, on where I lived, Gribdale, now in the North York Moors National Park. Then it was just where we lived!

The first painting I ever exhibited, and the only artwork I've ever declined to sell, is this

It's the view from the back of our house, across the moor with Roseberry Topping sticking up there in the distance. I climbed this when I was three. It's just under mountain height, family day climb, walk from the house, up the hill, down, walk home. 

I remember my Dad putting down his handkerchief for me to scramble up on my knees, so tired. White handkerchief against green mosses and lichens. My Mom told me in later years that when we got home, I was too tired to get my foot over the step.

The painting, you'll noticed, has a very low eye view, close to the ground. That's because I painted from the memory of being about three. I saw everything like that, as little kids do. Small rises in the foreground loom like little hills.

The far view is the Cleveland Hills, the mental framework I carry permanently. The shapes get into my art all over, wherever there are sinuous lines. Even in the silver-work of the art doll. So much more, but another time.

This is a couple of dales, valleys, east from the setting of the first All Creatures, from which a lot of the scenes were familiar to me. Not so much with the new production. 

But it's okay. It's so much better in ways that matter to my social little heart.

Then I got on making the pockets for the Useful Robe, with notches to echo the neckline. I need to try on, to situate them right before I attach them.

And even though it was getting late, I just had to try spinning a bit of that merino silk, and it feels wonderful, fine but strong, slides along. Oh, a pome!

Good day. Listening to an Andy Carpenter while I worked.

Cauliflower Capers, and yet more pockets

So the day started fine, attached three pockets, end of pocketing for now.

Blue shirt, pinned in place

Now stitched, and a nice size for my hands, phone etc.

And the pink shirt with the tiny patriarchy smashing pocket in place. You can just get a couple of fingers partly in..

Then I thought I'd make a lovely cheese cauliflower broccoli bake, plenty of cheese in the house, and did so.

Well, I almost did so. I think despite its good looks, this may have been an end of season cauliflower. Fibrous, tough, after lengthy steaming and half an hour baking. 

Usually when you bake it, you want the cauliflower a little firm so it's still shapely after baking. This one had other ideas. The tips were tender, the rest could have used power tools.

However the cheese sauce was excellent, good cheddar, the last of the garlic spread, and the broccoli was fine. 

So after fuming for a couple of minutes, I ended up tossing the very toughest bit, then blending all the rest in the pot with a good chicken broth. It tasted fine.

So I declared it cream of cauliflower soup. Half a dozen helpings there.

Here's the trial bowl, with Japanese style garlic scapes featured.

Austenland came in, thank you for the recommendation, Debra. I'll watch it tonight.

This afternoon will be about reading one of the many choices I have lying around, including Unmarriageable on my Kindle, which I think is another Austen adjacent item, West with Giraffes, Ashton Warner, among a lot of others.

There's a textile presentation from HGA later. I'll see about that. If it's good I'll let you know tomorrow.

An up and down day in a way. Oh well.

.

Pocket coda, friendship coda with cicadas, chai coda, pasty coda

The coda on friendship: I did reference human friendship and everybody politely stayed within the frame of reference. But my friends include animals and plants. 

Two of these converged yesterday when the five year old grandchild visiting next door came to show me her new friends, cicadas in a jar. Just caught for a while to see them up close. 

She took one out to introduce me, and it gave a rattly squeak. I said he's talking to you. She: Yeah, when I pinch his butt he does that. Me: Do you think he's saying  ouch? She: Ohh. Maybe. Me: I like him. She: Yeah. Im putting him in the tree now. And off she went,  mission accomplished.

I doubt if I will live to experience another 17 year cicada season. So this was a great moment of friendship across race and species and age, all at once.

On to less weighty subjects.

More on the endless world of pockets, with another Pro Tip from Polly Pockets here. 

Here's another beloved linen shirt, altered to suit. Roll sleeves, cuffs long gone into some art or something, tail shortened to my liking. It already has a pocket but things can fall out if you bend to see stuff out walking. So it does need help.

As you see, the tail, complete with one button and button hole, still available. Which gave me a cool idea.

Before the cool idea, see that little pink item. It's a Tiny Pocket, a finger in the eye of manufacturers who love them. It's going on the chest opposite the side of the Useful Pocket on the pink shirt. More than one way to achieve balance. Small can weigh large. And a couple of square inches of linen can be a political statement.

And the cool idea is: these two cut out pocket bits, where the shirt tail curve is the pocket top, very well finished already, the front side finished, too, and only the hem and underarm side need my finishing. 

Tune in here for Simple Stuff I Can Do to Get Pockets and Smash the  Patriarchy.

This will happen tomorrow in daylight. 

Meanwhile another version of pasties, this time they probably have a name I don't know, and if you do, please say.

Granny Smiths, with nutmeg, cinnamon, golden raisins, small amount of sugar, usual tortilla dough except bolted flour. 

The flour is very delicate in this recipe, probably needs regular wholewheat combined. That's why it looks a bit lacy. I mean artisanal.

They were very good though, plenty more to come, and triggered another Clever Tip for Cooks Running to Catch up with the Big Kids. 

I finally got around to finding a little shaker for the confectioners sugar, see here. Filled it before I could say I was too tired, and there it is.  This has taken years to accomplish.

When I was first learning American labeling, a friend who cooks and bakes like a pro, gave me a handwritten itrecipe for her lemon bars, which I've since made many times for appreciative audiences. 

I noted the abbreviation she used for the sugar and asked her "what's this ten times sugar?" Such a look of compassion she gave me, never forgotten. 

And now it's short stories and chai.

That's another of those trap words like tea. 

If a Brit invites  you to tea, you're not going to get a cup of hot water with a teabag in it.  You've been invited to a meal, all baked from scratch. At my house, anyway,  including the bread in the little sandwiches, and the jam, a couple of kinds of cake, maybe a savory, and a fresh pot of tea, choice of lemon or milk. Nice cups. Napkins. Clean tablecloth.

When an Indian offers you chai you get this recipe I made, made slowly and with care, with milk. 

Yet chai just means tea. And you can get spice mixes called chai which are lovely, but not the classic Indian recipe.  It all depends on context.

I blame the English for all this confusion. For everything, really.

Drama and pockets

Today's Summer Film Fest, since the cold rainy weather needed some help, featured the Ang Lee, Emma Thompson, Sense and Sensibility, and it was even better than I remembered. Filled with brilliant touches, tiny gestures that meant everything, great acting.

If you've seen it you know. If you haven't, I'd recommend it.

Then, and this is related, it really is, on the endless subject of pockets and why more is better, I suddenly had this thought. 

To be exact, in the middle of watching a moving and engrossing scene in Sense and Sensibility, high drama, where Elinor is finally having her breakdown of relief, on finding maybe she does have a future, despite all.

Try as I will, to quote a Heyer heroine, I cannot be romantic.

Anyway I was wearing a favorite linen jacket once a shirt jacket, which I'd altered years ago. I'd cut off the cuffs and hemmed the sleeves to make elbow length roll ups. I love it but today I wished it had at least one pocket. 

And I was watching the movie on the little TV right next to the supply closet where the scrap crate is. I expect my brain was working on this while I thought I was getting into Austen.

Later the thought about how to have matching pockets took shape. As you see.

I remembered the cut-off cuffs. Being quality linen, I expected to find them preserved,  in the scrap crate. And did. Readymade pockets. With pleat detail, machined pocket top.

So later, while I listened to an Angela Thirkell (August Folly) I tried one. Cut it open, stitched it around, attached it, steam pressed the lot.

 

See the tiny arrowhead point below the hemline? Posh detail.

And it looks pretty sharp, as well as being deep enough to put things in without having them fly out. The tiny arrowhead sticking below the hemline? I love that detail. It's the button placket from the cuff. And there are pleats on the back, at the yoke, that echo the pleats on the pocket.

I may not put a second pocket on, one may be enough, but I'll wear it and decide. 

This linen is beautiful to stitch through, needle just glides.

You may have noticed the skirt hasn't progressed far. That's because a high thread count cotton mix, with a finish designed to withstand wear, is difficult to push a needle through for more than a few minutes. It will get there, but I can't clickety click along with the seams.

Meanwhile this linen jacket which I got for a couple of dollars at the thriftie about 15 years ago, designer brand, continues to earn its keep.

These pockets are not a disgrace

 Launched by Bernadette Banner's latest YouTube upload, "Women's Pockets Weren't Always a Disgrace" where she gives a rapid fire and excellent history of the pocket over several centuries, I looked at the robe I was wearing.

I like it, it fits, it's fleecy, it's an inoffensive shade of pink. But the pockets are not even big enough to put your hand in. 

Certainly not safe for my essential phone.

Soooo once again I'm fixing stuff before I forget.

I had knit fabric left over from cutting out that top I made from an old fitted sheet, so, since the robe is stretchy, that seemed like a good match.

The pockets were cheaply constructed though, stitched all around to the robe, so I had to figure out the engineering to add to the depth without accidentally cutting wrong, on the outside. This is trickier than a pocket that hangs free inside, where you just slit and add to it.

Slit across the bottom of the pocket area, from inside,  attached the pockets I'd stitched up, first the back then front. To my surprise it works.

I can slip my hand in, phone safely in the depths so it won't fly out when I sit.

And the new pocket extensions are completely invisible from outside.Yet again one of those think about for months, execute in fifteen minutes, projects.