Near-Miss

I thought I'd missed the Charity Shop Challenge for this month, but no--technically this week is the last Thursday of the month. So here you go:



Gray hoodie: clothing swap
Black sweater: Banana Republic via thrift, $5.99
Wool plaid skirt: Thrift, $6.99 (?)
Tights: Old Navy, so old they don't really stay up anymore

Vintage button on a chain: made by me
Wedding rings on chain: maternal great-grandfather, paternal great-grandmother

Wellies: Sloggers via favorite garden store

I'm undecided as to whether the title of this post refers to the outfit as well as the timing. I liked the idea of a wool skirt with a hoodie and Wellies (I had in mind something very "Land Girls"), but in practice I felt rather self-conscious. Part of me thinks I am too old to dress like this. (And then again, part of me thinks I am too old to care.)

Trippy

Last weekend the kiddo and I headed down to visit my parents in Phoenix. The humorless side of me knows that the whole metroplex is kind of a New Urbanist's nightmare.



Yet I can't deny that it's nice to have a warm and sunny spot to escape to for a weekend at the tail end of a glum Seattle winter. The air is so...gentle, somehow.



I mean, you step outside and the whole world smells like orange blossoms!



Plus, I think the desert plants are really neat. (We took a walk around the block our last morning there and I snapped about 70 photos of cacti. I might subject you to a few of them in my next post.)



Lots of Dutch people around, too. (Albeit via a century or so in the American Midwest. My family included.)



My mom and I had so much fun.



All that vintage embroidery floss was sorted into categories by color, painstakingly matched up by number, and then divided up with absolute fairness.  Here's my share:



Not bad, I'd say.



12 cents a skein! Those were the days, right?



I also brought back with me the tablecloth that, my mom says, was on the table at her parents' wedding reception. The fabric is full of snags and little holes, but the rose-patterned lace is mostly in good shape, and I think it's gorgeous.

I'm trying to decide what to do with it. Any suggestions?

Oh crap, you guys...

...I own the same kitchen canisters as Sharron Angle.

This throws into question my entire existence, not to mention my aesthetic. I mean, if there had been not one but three or four of these on the shelf that fateful day at Value Village, would I now believe in chicken-based health care? I shudder to think of the possibilities.

Clever

I am lucky enough to get to spend one Sunday afternoon each month with two other aspiring novelists. Yesterday, we met at Locöl, a new-ish wine/beer/seasonal food hangout in West Seattle (and before you get all het up about the seemingly unnecessary umlaut--it's a play on the Swedish word for beer, so I heartily approve).

I liked their version of the ubiquitous tealights-on-tables: a mason jar filled with dried beans, then a small oil lamp nestled inside. Somehow it made me think of my mother's kitchen. (My mom was a semi-vegetarian suburban hippie back before that was cool again--you remember the 80s, right?)

The food was nice, too. I had a three-bean salad that featured a dressing bright with lemon juice, and my friend's tuna sandwich disappeared fast, before I even thought to ask her how it was. Recommended.

Locöl

7902 35th Ave. SW, Seattle

Hi, welcome to my bathroom--

--and wait, when did this become a fashion blog?

Don't worry, it didn't. I just snapped these pictures as part of a little monthly event called "Charity Shop Challenge" that some ladies across the pond came up with.

I found out about it via the charming blog of Jen Collins, who also happens to be a super-talented artist & illustrator. I recently bought this lovely Scottish wildlife print from her and can't wait to display it, just as soon as I procure the right size frame (apparently, Target induces this weird neurological condition in me where I can never buy the correct size picture frame on the first try. I've done this three times in a row now, I think).

Anyway, since I work from home I need a little extra motivation to put on an actual Outfit in the morning (as opposed to whatever pair of saggy jeans happens to be hanging over the bed rail), and I looove thrifting, so it's a meme made in heaven as far as I'm concerned.

I'm wearing:
Black cowl-neck dress: clothing swap
Blue sweater vest: Ann Taylor Loft via thrift, $6.99
Teal leggings: Forever 21 (and they suck, honestly)
Brown boots: Born
Wooden bangle (that miraculously does not fall off my laughably bird-like wrists): thrift, $2.99
Indeterminate carnivore brooch (I think it's a fox but 2 out of 3 members of my household say it's a cat): thrift, $5.99
Silk scarf: thrift, $1.99
Cat hair on sweater: c/o Buster, free

Bye!

Even after all these years, Mom still knows the way to my heart

Look what my mom sent me in a Valentine's package last week, along with a whole batch of totally deadly oatmeal/raisin/chocolate chunk cookies.

A tablecloth given to her by my great-aunt Frances:

And two aprons made by my great-aunt Evelyn. My mom remembers her doing the stitching on them in the early '60s:

And how clever is this? Negative-space cross-stitch hearts:

I want to try that myself!

Then I called to thank her and she said, "Really? You don't mind that I send you my junk?"

Oh, Mommy. You silly goose.

Endearments

Happy Valentine's Day! Or as the Swedes would have it, Happy "All Hearts' Day," which I think is a sweet and lovely way to put it.

This year I played around with embroidery on paper. For far-away loves, some bits from an atlas (photocopied and then copied again until the right size), with an arrow stitched between our cities:

 

Inspired by



And for my main squeeze:



Inspired by this pillow made by Sarah of The Small Object--but I figured peanut butter and jelly wasn't quite quirky enough to capture what we have.  Mmm, peanut butter and pickle: it sounds so wrong but it tastes so right, and that about sums it up I'd say. (Plus, I like the double meaning: when I'm in a pickle, as I so often am, here he comes to fortify me, just like peanut butter.)

How I wish I'd drawn that pickle just an eighth of an inch higher--but hey, I never claimed to be perfect, so I guess my Valentines aren't going to be either. I'm pretty tickled by those French knot warts though!

Wishing an evening full of love to all you lovely hearts.