Remember our recent trip to the snow? See what Isaac was up to while I
lounged around with the kids. Follow this link to a gallery of Isaac’s
gorgeous photos of Hidden Meadow Ranch – won’t stay hidden for long!
Isn’t that the best snowman? — I think he looks a bit like Jay Mohr.
I didn’t have a chance to watch the Academy Awards on Sunday night. We were
busy celebrating my sister-in-law’s birthday and chatting-it-up with family. But, I did record the event to keep me company during long stretches
of busywork this week. Anyway, while watching a bit of the show
last night, I was reminded about my own Red Carpet experience – one of
the many odd, suppressed Hollywood memories I alluded to in my About
Page, but have never launched into here.
It was a dark and stormy night… It was a long and taxing day…
…at the downtown Los Angeles library. I had spent hours researching
patents for my hair accessory business (another story). I was tired and hungry, but comfortably- dressed in some random assemblage of unremarkable lounge
clothing. Strapped with a messenger bag full of photocopies and
notes, I exited the library carrying a 12"-tall stack of hefty books. When I called my husband to
report that the day’s work had been accomplished and I was heading
home, he replied, "Hey, you’re right next to the Oscars, you
should go have a look!"
Heather: "How close is "right next to?"
Isaac: "Oh, a couple of blocks."
Heather: "Uh…ok. Sure."
Isaac: "Stay on the phone and I’ll tell you how to get there."
So, I headed to the right, tall stack of books in arms, instead of to the left, where the car was parked a few blocks away.
— And let me just say here that everything looks smaller in a Thomas Guide — add to that a couple of wrong turns and we’re talking achey, shakey
arms, with a couple of blistered heels on the way — By the time I made
my way to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion, past the protester-packed
corners and the swarm of limousines stacked end-to-end along the road,
I was determined to see this tiresome adventure to some worthy end. Why turn around now, right?
So, I headed cautiously toward the back of the bleachers and the flurry
of activity that surrounded them. I was certain that I’d be stopped
and questioned by the police at the street barracade or the security
guards peppered throughout the crowds, but I wasn’t going to turn back
until I was told, "Miss, this section is for VIPs," or "Tickets,
please," or the like. No one stopped me. No one was concerned. Somehow, little innocent me, with my
conspicuous and dorky stack of patent books made it all the way to the
security station — you know, one of those metal-detector thingies you
have to walk through. There I was at the end of the road.
But, there was no one there. No
one to ask, "How can I get into the bleachers?" or "When does this
thing end?" or "Where am I allowed to stand?" So, I peeked my head
through the gateway to search for its manager. No luck. (But, no alarm
sounded either.) So, what did this bedraggled young-lady-in need-of-adventure
do? I walked on through, around a corner… and oops, right onto
The Red Carpet. No, not the front-and-center part of The Red Carpet,
but The Red Carpet no less. I stood there for a bit, awaiting my
security guard and getting the lay of the land, somewhat in shock at where I found myself and even more surprised by my brassy behavior. I just stood there, bent
over with books, between the reporters and the tent full of dining
tables. No one ever questioned me. Nobody minded.
After a few minutes, I found my way up into the bleachers, stood in shock
a while longer, assessed my own mounting exhaustion, then promptly
headed out. I was at the Oscars for all of ten minutes. Sometimes I
wonder… should I have just kept walking, could I have made it into the
front row, would I have been awarded a gold statue of my own?
— Ok, that last line’s not true, but it makes the story sound more metaphorical, doesn’t it? —
The truth is, I had no
desire to make a name for myself as "The Library Girl" on international
news, nor interrupt the fashionable proceedings with my tennis shoes
and jeans. By that point, I just wanted to put my books down and get my hands on
a tall glass of water.
∆ ∆ ∆
One Hollywood story down, how many more to go?
What did I call them in my little bio, "somewhat meaningless celebrity
encounters?"
Let’s see, there’s the time Cameron Diaz grabbed my arm,
and the night Claire Danes stepped on my foot, oh and the bomb-scare at
the grocery store with Christina Ricci (strange day, not scary). And several more — all meaningless, I assure you. But, as a collection, they’re almost interesting.
(Footnote: The photos are a re-enacted and the shoes are BC brand.)
I was going to tell you all about my Saturday at the Renaissance
Festival, my thoughts on hip-junk, and how we should all abandon our
purses for random draw-string baggies dangled from a belt. But, a deeper
study into the benefits of bag-free shoulders and the flirty
possibilities of shakin’ our hip-junk as we carry on about our daily
tasks just might threaten a revolution of modern accesorization. So,
I’ll leave you to study out the possibilities in your own quiet moments.
Sparing you the details, my Renaissance experience boiled down to bright conversation
with good company, some mighty people-watching, cheering for medieval
Billy Idol on horseback, and witnessing Charlotte’s poignant first
encounter with her personal hero, Babe.
Mark ten points in the Good Mama
column, cuz I’m gonna need ’em — this week’s going to be a
busy, work-filled one.
(And, no, we did not dress up. That isn’t a photo of me. I was hoping to take a whole series of hip-junk photos, but my camera ran out of batteries.)
Well, here it is. This is where I spend my days, The Sugar Shop.
I picked up the bookshelf at a local antique store for $150. It was poorly white-washed, with gobs of butter-yellow paint slathered on the details. Isaac re-finished it for me and built the base for it to rest on. Yep, that’s right. He built that footed, four-door cabinet-base up there. It now has a gently-distressed cream finish — far better.
I store my art supplies, sewing notions and wool felt in there. The yellow boxes above hold less-frequently-used items, like velcro and grommets, linoleum blocks for stamp- carving, elastic and cording.
In fact, I have Isaac to thank for most of the other furniture as well. He not only built the cabinet, but the computer table, sewing tabletop and shelves as well. And, of course, there’s the green chandelier and the turquoise mirror you know all about.
The pink walls are subtley mottled with bit of cream and a splash of funky metallic gold here and there. The large frame resting on the ribbon shelf is decorated with Isaac’s grandmother’s old sewing notions, and it’s covered — a fun piece to study.
A row of red-lidded jars above the computer table houses most of my ribbons. And my buttons and whatnots are tucked away in the happy green drawers on my sewing table.
The tall green work-island has a ton of storage, with cabinets and drawers on each side. I brought this piece home last summer as a solution to The Shuffle Kerfuffle. I store my sketchbooks and rulers in one drawer and keep the other drawers sacred for quick clean-ups. (Translation: they’re messy-full of random un-finished projects.) These cabinets contain art papers, zippers, vintage linens, interfacings, unfinished quilt-tops and stationery.
Toss a few of my favorite things into the room, and I’m right at home: pink floral pitcher, tacky 70s apple tin, vintage red floral trays, crocheted monkey, ornate cookie tins, photos of my babies. Are you playing I Spy yet? Let’s see, what else: pink toy sewing machine, antique wooden spools, gold velvet chair and a tissue-paper corsage from my son. My studio.
I know I just did a post, but I can’t resist shouting on the mountaintops that my favorite Laura has just posted some irresistable Poppies for sale — original paintings by a talented gal with seriously good taste. One painting’s available at her new Etsy shop and one’s on eBay. Go show Laura the love…
Oh, and have you seen the crib get-up she’s put together for her long-awaited baby boy (my long-awaited nephew) due this spring? Love those Scotties.
Laura, you can visit my fort anytime!
Ok, folks, here’s the state of my Grandmother’s Flower Garden quilt-top
after last weekend’s hexagonal fixation. I made the flowers about
three years ago on a trip we took to Jamaica to photograph a wedding.
(Know anyone getting married in an exotic location? We could use more
trips like that.)
My many-hours’ devotion this week have only produced the limited green border of which you see about half. Tedious. But, you know, tedious projects are perfect for grab-n-go vacation entertainment.
At the rate we’re going, it looks like it may be a few more years before the next vacation, so don’t expect much progress on this little blanket for a while to come. My goal is to have it done by the time granddaughter #1 makes an appearance – in what, twenty years or so? Oh my, is that why it’s called a Grandmother’s Flower Garden? Is it impossible to finish one of these buggers before then?
Isaac was hired last-minute to photograph Hidden Meadow Ranch and an ASU event being held there this weekend. In addition to his rate, he was given a couple nights’ stay at nearby Greer Lodge and some giftcards to cover all meals, family included. So, a two bedroom cabin, New York strip steak and halibut for dinner, omelets for breakfast and a blanket of snow to roll around in? We’re there!
Friday was a flurry of get-up-and-pack-as-fast-as-you-can-or-Isaac’s-leaving- anyway, followed by about four hours on the road, which I happily spent paper-piecing a grandmother’s flower garden quilt that I hadn’t touched for three years. It was the only project that was ready to go at a moment’s notice — and, I had to have a project.
We arrived at the ranch two hours before sundown, layered on random warm-things we’d tossed in the car and sploshed out into the mud and snow. Charlotte and I visited the horses while Elijah rolled around on the ground, collected icicles and tried out his sled on flat ground. Isaac went to work.
The next day, Saturday, the kids and I were car-less, so we played in the snow (which Charlotte called "snowman" no matter how many times I corrected her, "It’s snow, sweetie"). We dined at the lodge and enjoyed a many-hours snuggle: Elijah read Bridge to Terabithia out loud while I stitched away on tiny hexagons. Charlotte jumped and stirred about before curling up in the closet for a nap.
But, yesterday was the the best. We loaded up the car, loaded up on breakfast and took a short drive to sledding wonderland. Sledding Wonderland! Not just one great sledding hill, but layers and layers of great sledding hills, one on top of the other. Some crowded, some quiet. Ramps, bumps, straight, curvy. Icy-slick or deep & fluffy. Have your pick.
As the designated baby-escort, I figured my time in the snow would be short. Isaac set right to work on a Charlotte-sized snowman and Elijah tore off on a maiden voyage with his Christmas sled. It took Charlotte a few minutes to establish the lay of the land, but it wasn’t long before she was throwing snowballs and sliding down hills on her bum. After a few turns on Elijah’s sled, there was no holding her back. She found herself a plastic disk with handles to borrow and took many rides down the big hill on her own — barely two years old! And, if you’re nervous, like I was, I’ll add that she didn’t go nearly as fast as the others. She doesn’t weigh that much.
Three hours later, we hugged the snowman goodbye, packed up the snow gear and headed back down the road toward home: more paper-piecing, a John Grisham book on CD and The Incredibles on portable DVD (with headphones) for the kids. Ah, vacation — an embarrassingly rare treat.
Catch-up! That’s right, catch-up. Deadlines, promises, laundry, sleep. Catch-up.
I had to stay in Chicago an extra night due to airport delays last
week. So, far better than pulling an all-nighter at the airport, I had
a quiet meal at the Hyatt and a good night’s sleep. Somehow, that
extra day of travelling compressed last week’s obligations into a mad
flurry of busy-busy.
In Chicagoland, I met up with Hope Meng and Melissa Alvarado of
Stitch Lounge, Nicole Smith of Cutting Edge Magazine, Simon Haskins
(designer and son/business partner of Jenny Haskins’), Anna Maria
Horner and several amazing folks from Bernina. We ate delicious food
and chatted about one of my favorite subjects – sewing.
I found that I was somewhat enchanted by the cold weather. However,
if I had to clean a windshield, fill a tank with gas or buy groceries
in such weather, I’m sure it’d quickly lose its spell. Thank you for
your foul-weather-warnings — you should have seen how many layers I
wore that first time out the door.
Oh ya, those photos up there… Seeing as tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, here’s a fun idea: Customized Sweethearts. All you need is a bit of clean sandpaper, a papertowel to brush off the dust and some edible markers. No, you don’t eat the markers.
And, finally, what happens if I don’t mention the studio photos? Will you forget that I promised them last Wednesday? Hopefully. They’re still on Isaac’s laptop and I don’t have the nerve to ask him to do one more thing for me. I hereby change my promise from "Wednesday" to "soon."
And check out this dress!
I’m heading out of town in a couple of hours for a meeting-of-the-minds with some industry folks – Chicago! First time there. It’s supposed to be 0˙, with a wind-chill of -35˙ or so. I can’t even fathom what that feels like. Where I’m at, it’s tee-shirt weather. So, I’ve borrowed my sister’s long, thick wool coat and I’m hoping for the best.
In my flurry to gather-up some cold-weather necessities, I delegated the promised studio photography to my more-than-capable husband, who kindly complied. But, he won’t let me post the photos just yet as he wants a do-over, with the chandelier switched on this time. And, I’ve gotta let the man have his say (that’s the least I can do – he’s sure helped me a lot these last couple weeks). So, I’ll be back on Wednesday with those promised photos and some fun new friends to declare, I’m sure.
Oh, and Isaac insists that I make it clear that I take 98% of all the photos on my blog. It’s a chivalry-thing. At least, I think/hope that’s the case. Did you see his comment on this post, kindly defending my honor? Made me feel like a medieval maiden (albeit one with state-of-the-art camera equipment).
Have you seen the Bitty Booties Photo Pool lately? There are some amazing little booties in there – almost 200 photos. Some with amazing embroidery, some with funky embellishments, some simple, some a little wild — so many great interpretations of a simple baby shoe (free pattern in my sidebar). Go take a peek at the photo pool if you’re expecting a baby, know someone who’s expecting a baby or are just looking for crafty inspiration. You’re bound to think of someone to make shoes for once you’ve bathed in the cutness that is Bitty Booties.
Also tickling my fancy is this new patchwork dress from Anthropologie. Who’d have thought a patchwork dress could look so chic? Yes, and a little Oklahoma, but I like musicals. I’m pencilling-in a patchwork dress for a summertime project in my fantasy craft calendar. Who knows, some dreams come true.
Thanks for the chandelier love. And, yes, you’ve been heard…I’ll try to get some good pictures of the
studio tomorrow. I have such a good time taking detail shots, I
haven’t stepped back to get the big picture. (Sounds like a metaphor
for something.)
Finally, today’s the last day to vote for the Bloggies. I’m putting in a major bid for Amy Angry Chicken who’s a finalist in the Best Craft Weblog category. Just in case I’m not being obvious enough… Go vote for Amy!
