A secondhand sweater

I'm not really sure what "BOO-YAH!" means, but I feel like saying it when I look at this purse I made . . .

out of this.

The purse is not blocked, I haven't attached the handle, and I can't decide on a closure--a snap, a button, a staple, a nail? The binding covering the raw edges is a little bulky on one side, and pretty decent on the other. Know how when you're trying something new your technique gets better as you go along? Yeah, that.

I bought this 100% wool sweater at Deseret Industries, Utah's premiere thrift-shop chain run by the LDS church. The "DI" is so. much. fun. for a thrift-shop junkie like me. I love spotting a cool piece of clothing or furniture and quietly thinking to it:

"Oh my heck, WHAT are you doing here? Your previous owners simply didn't understand you. You're coming home with me."

Thrift-store shopping is an art, I tell you. It's taken me years to get it right. And sometimes I still get it wrong. When I was in college I moved to an apartment in a third-story building. I hit the DI and bought a huge secondhand couch covered in funky flowers. My good friend Matt and I carried that couch up three flights of outdoor stairs, only to find that it wouldn't fit through the front door of the apartment. Back down the stairs. Back to the DI. (Hmm. Writing this, I realize that my error in judgment wasn't due to being an inexperienced secondhand shopper. It was basically me sucking at math.)

I bought five more secondhand sweaters this week. I'm looking forward to making more, I dunno, stuff. Whatever I can dream up. Repurpose, reduce, reuse, recycle. Sure, all that is dandy. But really, I'm just having fun.

ALERT: Jackspeak

[While watching my new niece, Willa, now nine weeks old]

Jack: "When Willa grows bigger and taller, she will still be a girl?"

Me: "Yes. Willa will always be a girl."

"When I grow bigger and taller, I will still be a boy?"

"Yes, just like Daddy. You will always be a boy."

"When I grow bigger and taller, I'm gonna be a boy. And then I'll be a cow. And then I'll be a pig. And then I'll be a CHICKEN!"

"Oh boy, you're gonna be a whole farm full of animals, aren't you?"

"Yes. And then I'll be a table. And then I'll be a baby."

Lazy Dazey

It's July in Utah. It's hot. Hovering around 100-or-more-degrees-for-three-weeks hot. By 3 p.m., it takes genuine effort to stand. We do have a swamp cooler but it's really, REALLY loud. In the afternoon most of the conversations between Jack and I go something like this:

Jack: "Mommy, what did you say?"

Me: "What?"

My nature is that of a busy bee, buzzing around from one project (laundry) to the next (sewing) to the next (playing light sabers with Jack) to the next (making quesadillas) to the next (cleaning up a juice spill) to the next (sewing). But during these sweltering days I prefer to sit on the deck in my Martha-Stewart-for-Kmart patio chair--Diet Coke with extra-extra ice at the ready--and flip through the pages of one of my favorite home-decorating books, Zona Home. (The book was published in 1996. I've never read the words. I just look at the pictures.)

If I position my patio chair directly outside of the sliding-glass door, I get the benefit of swamp-cooler current without having to say my thoughts out loud in order to hear them. That can be downright embarrassing.

So today, I'm mustering up what's left of my sun-stolen energy to share two things in no particular order. One thing about quilts, one thing about Jack. They have nothing to do with each other. I'm sure there is a clever segue to connect the two topics. No, wait. Actually, there isn't. And if you can think of one, it must be a balmy 79 degrees where you live.

One thing about Jack: He is Yoda. If you want to meet Jack by ear and you have two minutes and 50 seconds to spare, click away.

(My first try at posting audio. Comment if you heard it!)

One thing about quilts: I've continued working on a quilt design that I've mentioned here and here. I'm thinking people will either hate it, or they'll hate it. Which do you choose?

I know what you're thinking. It couldn't get any worse, right? Just you wait! I promise, it'll get worse in the coming weeks! Looks like the 'ol clown convention came to town again. (Inside joke for those of you who own The Little Box of Baby Quilts. See card #10.)

Now it's back to my deck, back to my swamp cooler, back to my Diet Coke, back to my should-be-awake-any-minute-now Jack . . . if I can get my sweaty self out of this computer chair.

ALERT: Jackspeak (superhero good deeds gotta start somewhere)

[After finding the remote control to the DVD player, which had been missing for over three weeks.]

Jack: "Mommy, mommy! I found the remote!"

Me: "Oh my heck, you did? That's great news!"

"Yep. I saved the day. I SAVED THE DAY!"

"You sure did. Where did you find it, little superhero?"

"In the fireplace."

"Hmm. I didn't think to look there for it. Who put it there, I wonder?"

"Jacky!"

English ain't easy

Found on a plastic bucket filled with sandbox toys, which I bought for Jack's birthday:

Wish I had the other half of the label. I really want to find out how this story ends.

Baby-quilt tour begins

Quilts from The Little Box of Baby Quilts have flown the coop--they're on their way to the following quilt shops on their first-ever tour!

JULY 2007
Sally's Fabrics, Mesa, Arizona
Sew Smart, Doylestown, Pennsylvania
Byrne Sewing Connection, New Britain, Pennsylvania

AUGUST 2007
The Patch Works, Lafayette, Colorado
Sally's Fabrics, Mesa, Arizona
Quiltin' Tia Quiltworks, Weatherford, Texas

SEPTEMBER 2007
Quilter's Junction, Centralia, Washington
CJ's Quilt Shop, West Lafayette, Indiana
The Patchwork House, Clovis, New Mexico

OCTOBER 2007
Windy Moon Quilts, Reno, Nevada
Crystal's Log Cabin Quilts, Grand Marais, Minnesota

NOVEMBER 2007
Granny's Sewing Den, Glenside, Pennsylvania

After the quilts return home, they are headed to Canada and Scotland. SO. COOL. How much would it cost to pack myself in the box, I wonder?

In preparation for shipping quilts from The Little Box of Baby Quilts on their trunk shows, I had to sew and applique a dozen hanging sleeves on their backsides. In less than 48 hours.

While sewing the second-to-the-last sleeve, I stopped to rethread a needle. After three solid minutes of trying to guide what I thought was pesky thread through the eye, I realized I was trying to thread the pointy end of the needle.

SON OF A . . . !!!

If there is ever a next time, I will give myself MORE time.

It's done now. The quilts are off on their adventure. When they return home (and if they could talk), they will brag about being much more well-traveled than me. And they would be right.

Have fun, girls. And behave.

ALERT: Jackspeak

Me: "So Jack, what was the best part of your day?"

Jack: "Well, the best part of my day was watching Spiderman."

"Oh, but we watched Spiderman yesterday."

"Oh. Well, then the best part of my day was watching Spiderman yesterday."

Faster than a speeding bullet

After a few setbacks and the ten-times daily question "Is it done yet?" from my son, Jack's superhero cape is done! I'm kinda smitten with it.

Following Jack's euphoria at finally, FINALLY having his cape all to himself--shown through lots of lively hopping and screaming--I helped him tie it on. He flew around the living room for a few minutes. Then he pulled the bow to untie the cape in the front, let it drop to the floor, and asked, "Mom, where's my other cape?"

"It's on the floor in the kitchen."

Off he went to retrieve it. The hot-pink batik sarong cape. The sarong I wore as a cover-up during our honeymoon in Jamaica. Sigh.

I picked up the cape I had made and neatly draped it over the stair rail in the living room. I think Jack likes the cape I made. It just doesn't move and sway and flounce and fly behind him like his hot-pink cape. A superhero needs to feel comfortable. I mean, how is Jack going to sing "I'm going to save the day!" and mean it if he is hindered by the bulk of a cape that was made by someone who knows next to nothing about a superhero's true needs?

Anyway, that's what I told myself on Sunday. On Monday, Jack brought the cape to me and put it in my lap. He had changed his mind. He tried out his new wings . . .

. . . on the grass . . .

. . . on the steps . . .

. . . on the sidewalk . . .

. . . on his tricycle . . .

. . . and with his fancy new superhero belt.

I am thrilled. I am relieved.

Now I think I'm up for making Jack an ultra-cool superhero belt, with loops for hanging superhero gadgets. Like screwdrivers and wrenches and flashlights. Superheroes need those in a pinch, don't they?

Halloween, here we come!