yonks ago

Haven't posted in ages.

1-got a job. Handful of hours a week, used bookstore, small wage, HUGE fun. Owner was an old acquaintance of mine (now a friend) who understood I was homeschooling and said "Bring your kids when you need to."
2-had a great two months doing something new, loving the literary environment.
3-the kids even got to come and help out.
4-my boss emailed me last night to say she's packing it in....going out of business. Sudden? yep. Totally unexpected given this economic climate? nope. Crushing disappointment and sudden loss of purpose? yep.

5-The bit of money needs to be made despite the loss of this job.
6-I am going to open an Etsy shop.
7-Will keep you posted!

Saving Nine

The year we got married, my mum and dad made us a quilt. Isn't that nice? They did one for each of us kids around the time we all got coupley: and the weddings went as follows.

Eldest - 1995
Youngest - 1996
Middle - 1997

So it was a hectic few years. My dad was off work due to an injury (broken neck, believe me or believe me not) during much of that time, and spent a lot of his recovery quilting. I love that.

Anyway, I am not one of those people who redecorates their house every year or two and has multiple sheet sets for each bed. I can't justify the money and the waste. But, I hadn't realised just how well-worn this quilt was until I was inspecting the fall linens in preparation for the cold weather, and saw the edge of it up close.



Ten meters of 5/8" double-fold bias tape, a little bit of pretty stitch work from the Pfaff:

and Presto! the quilt is ready for another ten years of duty.


When I was folding it up after rebinding it, I noticed two small holes in the patchwork top. I'll repair those and show them to you next week.

But in the meantime, I'd like to reflect on the concept of stewardship. I think it's one of those things that became unfashionable around the same time as marriage did - during the decades following the Second World War, when people were tired of making do and women were tired of staying home. I recall a magazine article I read in about 1982, entitled "Are You a Supermarket Miser?" It had a little quiz where you could find out if you were committing the sin of trying to save money.....sorry, I mean "pinch pennies". One of the questions was "Do you use plastic grocery bags for the trash instead of buying proper garbage bags?" The whole article was smugly tittering...you certainly got the impression that "Yes" was the wrong box to tick.

The article was written at a time when consumption was the height of fashion, when manufacturers were scrambling to make everything disposable. But you wouldn't have caught a pioneer family, or a Depression family, or a wartime family, throwing away a quilt that could be repaired for less than a half-hour's wage, or a towel that could be cut down into facecloths, or a facecloth that could be turned into a diaper, that could be turned into a rag.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this in the last while, especially since my bike was stolen and we realised we can't actually afford to replace it. Living on one income is difficult with gas at $1.34 a liter (and we're grateful it's that low), and flour costing me $15 per 10 kilo bag. As expensive as the essentials are, though, they're not what puts us into the overdraft.

Being part of a privileged class in a privileged nation brings with it a certain carelessness when it comes to small luxuries. I remarked to my sister the other day that it would be interesting to save all our receipts for a month, then go through and highlight everything we bought that was nonessential. Every bag of chips, every tall nonfat extra-hot latte, every video rental. I think it would be a little shocking to see the total.

I have a lot of skills. I can patch jeans. I can make bulletin boards, and clothes, and muffins. I can even darn socks, though whole-wheat breadmaking remains a challenge. I may not be making a wage, but I can at least avoid spending a wage we don't have.

As I spend year after year raising my children rather than editing government audit reports, living costs climb relentlessly. Like the Elliotts, we must retrench. Part of that is fixing my quilt, sure, and part of it is buying too-short thrift-store jeans and letting them down, but most of it is attitude. There's a......yes, I would say almost a shame that comes with being careful with money, even when it's by necessity rather than by choice. I had to search, there, for a phrase that wasn't demeaning: the first things that came to mind were "cheap", "skinflint", and "miserly". It's interesting: I'm obviously a product of my generation, latchkey kids raised by two working parents who bought cookies and threw away worn linens.

Is it okay now, at the beginning of a new, expensive century, to value skills like patching and darning? Can I be proud of myself for having saved that $90 for a new quilt?

I think so. I think the world might be ready for a person who spent five years in university, then four years wearing heels to a government office and getting $60 haircuts every six weeks, to stay at home every day educating the children and patching quilts. I might not be Rosie Riveter, but I'm still doing my bit for the war.

The Next Big Knit

So I've been having a crisis of faith lately. Maybe it's the time of year (others are feeling it, too), but when it comes to knitting, crafting, cooking, shopping -- heck, pretty much when it comes to life -- I'm just not feeling the love. Ogee languishes in my knitting bag, about 15 rows from binding off. The spiral rib socks are close too - I have rounded the heel and knitted about 4 inches of sock number two. I have an entire stash full of beautiful yarn waiting for my inspired hands to create something with it, and yet.......I just don't care.

It can't be that I need something new, because I refuse to cater to my own consumerism like that. Besides - all that stash yarn (and stash fabric, for that matter) was new when I bought it, and it's still new, and I haven't touched a yard of it.

Maybe I need a challenge. That is, a challenge beyond simply finishing a project. I've been thinking about this possibility, and I do believe I'm onto something...

Here it is: the next Big Thing. I am not stinting on this one, but will go all the way with the Starmores, and buy their kit for the Rheingold Wrap.




I hereby declare my intention to buy the kit, knit it up, and wear it or display it proudly. I also hereby declare that I am totally penniless, and need to do some serious spending-money-saving to enable the Rheingold purchase. Thankfully, the lovely Jade and Alice do not charge for shipping from the Hebrides, where they live, so the kit will cost me a mere £95. Eeep. I figure I spend about $10 a week on coffee, so I'll only have to do without lattes for 24 weeks to buy the kit.

I'm thinking I'll buy it for my birthday in October. That's the perfect time of year to buy a knitting kit, anyway, and until then I will keep it in mind as an incentive to finish all the other stuff I'm working on or plan to start.

I do have a couple of questions to put to you all, though, with regard to the shawl.

1) It looks long enough for the model in the picture, but I'm betting my shoulders are significantly wider. Given the fact that the kit is one-size, should I worry? I suppose I could eliminate one of the vertical bands, and use the freed-up yarn to add length...but then will it be too narrow?

2) Should I opt for the Zauberflote sweater instead? It is £109, or about $190 US. Problem is, I don't normally wear sweaters with that high of a neckline. It's a bit traditional for me. On the other hand, if you are going to knit true Fair Isle, you might as well go for all the tradition you can.



Please, a little help?

Please, Come and Give Me Your Money

So, this party. It was a good time, actually, with a lot of nice decorations, some very tasty food, ten women, and lots of wine. Sounds promising, right?

The fly in the ointment was, it was an Epicure tasting party.

Here's the thing. They have great products, and I use them a lot and, therefore, believe in them. However, it bothers me that the society we live in is rife with people trying to make money off their friends. Am I the only person who is seriously embarrassed about hosting for profit? "Hey, friends: come to my house! We'll have food, and drinks, and a really fun time! Oh...and bring your wallets."

What's even worse are the suggestions They provide to achieve "maximum party attendance". They tell us that "anyone can be a customer. Parents from your child's sports teams! Church groups! School contacts! Neighbours! Family members! Random strangers you see on the street! People you used to know in high school, but haven't spoken to in fifteen years! Everyone's a customer!" What I want to ask these people is, how much do they like being proselytized by every salesman/woman out to make a dollar? How much do they like being warmed up by a friendly smile and an outstretched hand, only to find that the outstretched hand is holding a catalogue and an order form?

I don't know where the line is between making a living and taking advantage. I've been thinking about this a lot lately because I am having some financial tension, and have been considering everything from direct-sales, to weekend-retail, to Google-ads-on-my-low-traffic-blog. For some reason, I am agonizing over this last one, wondering how readers feel about the presence of Google ads and, further, whether anyone ever clicks them. Because if they don't, there's not really much point. And, if they do, does that make me mercenary? Or, worse, would people visit HalfSoledBoots, see the Google ads, and think with a contemptuous curl of their lip, "Sellout" while vowing ne'er to return?