37

It even sounds kind of old, doesn't it? Like, dangerously close to 40. It didn't really hit me until yesterday, when I turned 37, even though I kind of had it in my head that I would somehow have a birthday, yet stay 36. These last few years of the thirties seem especially precious to me. My twenties were, largely, a bit of a dark phase as I wandered around the earth with no sense of who I was, really grasping at straws. I have, thus far, liked my thirties much better. It is my experience that that people I know -- and women, in particular -- really come into their own in this decade. There's a loss of the frivolous insecurities that plagued us through our twenties and a strength and empowerment that replaces it. That said, I'm not sure what the forties hold and, yes, it may be premature to think about it, but I barely feel like a grown up most days so to think I'm facing 40 in a few years just seems, well, silly. After all, I remember well the surprise birthday party my mother threw for my father when he turned 40. It seems such a...parental age.

But perhaps I should stop worrying about things that aren't here yet and put my energy into being a very good 37-year-old. After all, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow and never see 40 and all that worrying would have been for naught.

One last thought, before I leave the subject alone entirely: I think my fear of aging has increased dramatically since my mother died suddenly just two weeks after turning 60. My genetic legacy doesn't seem as bright as it once did, although my paternal grandparents lived into their 80s and my mother's mother is spry at 89. It's hard not to think that my life may be half over already -- and while my childhood seems a far reach away, it doesn't seem quite far enough away. If that makes any sense. Probably not. Okay. I'm done.

On the very, very bright side of things, it was a lovely birthday. It started with a bedside bouquet of stargazer lilies and breakfast in bed from my husband and continued with a showering of goodies, including enough Amazon gift certificates to snatch up all the things on my selfish wish list, my much-coveted Sublime Stitching book, about a thousand gorgeous-smelling goodies for my expanding bath scents wardrobe. I must have the coolest mother-in-law ever, as the birthday card she sent me plays "I Want Candy" when you open it.

In addition to beautiful scents, Chris treated me to a trip to Sephora, which is like taking me to heaven these days, now that my treatment is over and I can try on everything. I come out of there smelling like a whore and looking like a clown who's been punched in the mouth from trying on so much makeup, but I have such girly fun. (I also got to go to the endocrinologist and have blood drawn to see if we can get my thyroid levels in shape, but that doesn't quite sound like birthday fun.)

Then, last night, I did the last session of my current 826 workshop, and Erin and Amy had a lovely little box of Kilwin's chocolates for me. (I don't envy them the willpower required now that the new 826 location is just two doors down from the local chocolatier.) Isn't that so thoughtful of them?

Perhaps most suprising for me was that the gifts from Chris continued this morning, as he declared it a birthday week for me! (I can't even tell you how spoiled I'm getting.) I got some lovely Burt's Bees buttermilke bath soak (meant for babies, but so sweet and comforting smelling), some salt scrubs and, best of all, another Motawi rose tile to add to my collection. (It's the Pasadena rose in retro lime, in case you're as nuts about Arts & Crafts tile work as I am.)

Wait...was I complaining at turning 37? What was I thinking? It seems to rock pretty hard so far.

Found versus Post Secret

In case you're in Ann Arbor and looking for something great to do this weekend, I highly recommend checking out the Found vs. Post Secret event this Friday, Nov. 16 at the Michigan Theater. I don't know much about Post Secret's Frank Warren, but I have browsed the website on many occasion in full voyeuristic mode. And even though some of them postcards can be heavy, I've had the pleasure of attending Found Magazine events in St. Louis at the uber-fab Mad Art Gallery, so I know for sure those Rothbart boys can dish up some levity. It's part of a national tour and our A2 evening even promises up Ann Arbor mayor John Hieftje arm-wrestling local slam poetry guru Jeff Kass in a "death-defying duel." That and a few of Peter Rothbart's found-based ditties should make for a slew of fun. (Can there be a slew of fun?) Plus, Found Magazine is based here in A2, so it's a very special episode of what I'm sure is otherwise a cold and impersonal nationwide tour.

It'll be an interesting, unusual and fun event and, perhaps the best part, it benefits local charities, including my pet favorite, 826 Michigan. Buy tickets here, stir and enjoy!

Flurries!

Awoke this morning to the first of the year's snow flurries. They didn't last long, melting before they hit the ground and disappearing within an hour or so, but the sight always makes me giddy. Even if it means winter's upon us with only the briefest of falls. Maybe after a few more Michigan winters, I'll learn to grouse about the cold like the rest of the locals, but for now I love it. I've always had a penchant for the things cold weather brings -- shuffling through leaves; big, warm sweaters; pots of fragrant tea; a roaring fireplace; cats curling up on your lap to steal your body heat; knitting mittens and hats; cuddling under blankies watching movies or reading books. I feel more peaceful and contented when the weather turns cool than I do at any other time of the year.

So, yay, flurries!

It's the most shameless time of the year

In case you hadn't noticed, it's November, which kicks off the holiday season with a one-two celebration of two historically important births: me and Jesus. Naturally, as we head into the holidays, I've been spending quite a bit of time thinking about the true meaning of the season: gifts. Getting them, that is. Oh, don't act like you're not already wondering what you can con your loved ones into handing over in the weeks to come. Oh. You're not?

Really?

Huh. Well, further proof that you are a better person than me. In my defense, my family will start requesting gift lists from one another in the coming weeks, so thinking about this stuff does become quite a priority. Nothing makes your loved ones madder when you tell them you don't need or want anything for Christmas. (Not a problem I've ever encountered, mind you, but I have a husband who's ridiculously selfless and completely satisfied with his current lot in life and, let me tell you, it PISSES OFF my family, who are dying to shop for him.)

I have to admit I also love reading wish lists on other people's blogs. It seems craftsters are particularly prone to waxing poetic on their blogs about the things they covet -- whether it's a certain piece of fabric or skein of luxury yarn, tools for taking on a brand new craft or a just-published book full of fresh ideas. Maybe it's because we, the craftsy set, are always eager to try something new. Or maybe we're just greedy pigs. Either way, I enjoy such lists because they often introduce me to new products or ideas and get me thinking about what I enjoy and what brings me pleasure. And that is, more often than not: stuff. New stuff.

All of which is my long-winded slightly sheepish introduction to a list of things I've been eyeing and coveting lately. Please peruse, if only to make yourself feel superior because you're too busy collecting spare coins for Darfurian orphans with congenital birth defects to worry about what Santa will bring you.

*Paper may just be paper, but why do I feel so much more like a writer when I’m scribbling in a Moleskine journal ? Perhaps it’s because it’s the same brand of notebook favored by Hemingway and Van Gogh. More likely I’m just a sucker for marketing and perceived cache. Regardless, there’s room in my life for a new Moleskine Large Ruled Journal and, especially, the limited edition 2008 Red Large Daily Planner for planning my large days.

* Speaking of paper, I’m big into the handcrafting thing and lately I’ve been taken by how many beautiful paper crafts there are out there. I love seeing other people’s creative endeavors and dig the idea of supporting individual artists, especially via Etsy. At present, I’m particularly digging these super-affordable and super-adorable paper origami pendants (pictured above), and sets of silk-screened or stamped handmade note cards like this cute-as-pie bunch or these spare and lovely botanical designs .

*Books are also made of paper (segue!) and even though I have a zillion lined up for reading, there are still more I want to add to my shelves. I’ve been immersing myself in short stories lately and I keep coming back to Amy Hempel, whose classic short story “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried” completely changed the way I read and the way I wanted to write. So while I don’t often go for bulky hardcover editions, “The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel” is one tome I’d like to have weighing down the bookshelf in its hard shell incarnation.

*Also…I’ve long admired the work of Madison Smartt Bell although I don’t know nearly enough of it. Thus, I’ve taken note that his name and works have popped up a lot this part year in writing workshops, particularly in reference to his book “Narrative Design: Working with Imagination, Craft and Form.” Wouldn’t even have to be a new copy of this one; I kind of like writing books I know others have thumbed through.

* I’m mad about Maira Kalman , the illustrator, designer and children’s book author whose crazy beautiful Max (poet, dog, dreamer) series first caught my attention about 15 years ago. (You probably know her work even if you don’t know her name – the above New Yorker cover is a favorite.) A couple of years ago, a friend gave me a much-treasured volume of the classic The Elements of Style, made fresh anew by Kalman’s drawings. Thus, I’m happy that her columns from the New York Times’ Times Select have been compiled, accompanied by her illustrations, in a new collection entitled “The Principles of Uncertainty.” If you know someone who likes the quirky and unusual, this would make a terrific gift. (And that's not just an embarrassingly transparent hint -- it's a genuine gift suggestion for others!)

*While we’re on the topic of reading material…I already get entirely too many magazines, especially those featuring cool projects I wish I could take on but don’t have time for. Thus, it’s probably unwise to mention that I’ve fallen prey to a couple new home-design-craft type mags out there, especially since one is from Martha Stewart Publications (gasp!). Nonetheless, I wouldn’t sneeze at a subscription to either Blueprint or Domino .

*Back to books for a moment, yet onto crafts at the same time. Isn't it funny how there are things your heart desires, but you feel a bit embarrassed saying so? (I realize upon writing that last sentence that porn lovers and people who watch Dancing with the Stars are reading this and thinking, "Uh, no.") Such is my yearning for the book “Sublime Stitching”. There! I’ve said it! I want to learn how to embroider! How on earth a woman who knits and sews still feels like embroidery is too “traditional” a craft, I don’t know. But I’m taken with the retro-cool designs in this book and think a little embroidery could go a long way to personalizing and embellishing the knits and sewn goods I churn out.

* Speaking of retro, there’s hardly a fabric at Repro Depot I wouldn’t like to have a few yards of. (The Fabric Fairy has some lovely choices too.) Especially the spare Japanese designs (like the one above) that are just begging to be made into gifts for the babies in my life (or those soon to arrive) -- bibs? crib blankets? onesies? Who knows?

*You’d think I’d already have all the knitting gadgets a girl could have, but clearly I don’t. Although I don’t knit quite as much as I used to, when I do, it’s usually more complicated work, involving cables or lace work, which need to be tracked – often in different sections – over the course of a pattern. That’s where the Row Counter Plus would come in, handily keeping e-track of everything I’m currently tracking with a not-so-reliable system of one manual row counter and scribbled-upon scraps of paper.

*After two years on a medical treatment that prevented me from using any cosmetics or toiletries containing plant oil, I’m back, baby. And the world of fragrance is blissfully wide open to me again. There is no time I’m happier than in my tub and while I steer clear of most things that smell like something you can eat (with the notable exception of Philosophy’s Lemonade line ), I’m partial to botanical scents and lavender. Thus, I’m itching to stock up on Lush bubble bars and bath bombs , all things lavender by L’Occitane en Provence and, hell, anything that bubbles up, scrubs, softens, smoothes, soothes and smells good.

Phew. That was hella fun making that list. Now...how 'bout YOU? What's on your wish list, holiday or otherwise? Comments section is below. Use it, folks.

Squirrel Redux

Things didn't work out so well for the baby squirrel. For hours, he or she was silent, leading me to think -- perhaps a bit wishfully -- that he/she had found the window opening from whence it had arrived and exited. However, when I returned home from dinner last night, I found Allie keeping guard over the present he proudly left me. On my knitting. My white knitting. You know, in case I missed it.

Sigh. Such is the circle of life. Start singing that one Disney song now.

So much for a lazy Sunday

I had planned to spend this morning sleeping late, enjoying the extra hour afforded me by daylight savings time. But that changed when I awoke around 8 to what sounded like the cats trying to rearrange the furniture in the living room. At first, I thought, How nice. We could stand a fresh look. And then the pace of movement intensified, the sound of claws scrabbling across our hardwood floors increased and I thought perhaps it warranted a look. If anything, they were going about the new design too quickly and the results would be harried at best. As it turned out, the cats were not re-doing the living room. Rather, they were desperately trying to capture some creature that, based on their sentry points on either side of the couch, was hidden below. Delightful. This is one of those times when it really does come in handy to have a former Iowa farm boy in your house, and mine is in Montreal.

I assumed it was a mouse, until it emerged at top speed and made a mad dash under the bookcase and I discovered that our guest was actually a baby squirrel. A little sleuthing later -- mostly done as the poor thing dashed from under thing A to under thing B, the cats in hot pursuit -- revealed that it had entered through my office window, pushing in the block of wood covering a gap left by the A/C unit. How diligent! How resourceful!

I spent the next half hour or so in a somewhat comical routine, wherein I would shut the cats in one room and try to scare said baby squirrel out from under whatever it was under, then the cats would somehow get out and show up again, sending BS back under something else. Eventually, I shut the cats in the basement. BS headed under the couch. Now what?

I tried reasoning. I told BS that I had fully removed the piece of wood from the window and if he or she would kindly extricate him or herself and head back to the office, the free world was waiting. Nothing. BS stayed under the couch. I tried jimmying the couch this way a bit, a few inches that way, but nothing sent BS out until I stood on top of the couch and walked across it. Bingo! BS went scurrying out from under the couch and back into my office. Terrific progress! And then it scurried out of my office, into the bathroom (which shares a door to my office and the kitchen.)

I met BS on the other side, trying to head him/her off in the kitchen, at which point, it dashed off and took refuge...somewhere. I think under the fridge. So I sort of pushed against the fridge a few times hoping to inspire an panicked exit. Nothing. I took things out of the fridge, putting them back heavily on the shelves. Still nothing. Then I waited.

It has now been nearly an hour and there has been no movement. I let the cats out of the basement, thinking perhaps BS had actually gone somewhere else and they would be excellent scouts. But nada. The cats have sniffed around a bit then gone about their usual business of mewling for food and licking themselves in unseemly places. Thus, I've done what any sane person would do in my position -- poured a cup of coffee, grabbed my laptop and headed back to bed to wait.

Greetings from our nation's capital!

We've been in Washington, DC since Friday, visiting family and friends, a trip built around yesterday's Marine Corps Marathon which I ran in record time. Wait. No, I didn't. Chris and his brother-in-law Mike ran it. That's right. Having accompanied my spouse on more than a handful of his 22 total marathons, I can say that this one -- from a crowd perspective -- was a doozy. I thought I'd been with Chris for the DC run before, but it turns out I was thinking of the time he and Mike ran Chicago together. This one was super-insane, people. There were 22,000 runners and the set up, which I'm told is different from previous years was, if you'll excuse my French, a total clusterfuck.

The job of a marathon supporter is not an easy one, my friends. It involves dashing around from one point to another, elbowing your way through spectators in the hopes of catching a glimpse of your runner as they dash past, perhaps tossing a gatorade or goo packet at them if they need it. Then it's off to do the same at the next spot along the course.

Yesterday, it was Chris's sister (and Mike's wife) Julie, my niece Kate and I dashing to spots at miles 13, 15, 22 (which we ultimately abandoned) and the finishing line. In some places, the crowds were really pushing in narrowly on the runners, in others, we were so far back, it was hard to see anything, let alone let your loved one know you were there. At the finish line, the set up was so wonky and weird that it took trekking hither and yon on mud-soaked ground to figure out how to spot your runners, then another long trek to meet them at the gathering spot.

And there were all these people. People in the Metro stop, where there was a delay and folk were shoving and pushing and packed into the train cars like sardines -- which little ol' claustrophic me just loved. Everywhere you went, you had somebody either crossing your path in the opposite direction or simply standing still in the middle of traffic. As someone with a well-documented hatred of crowds, it was a treat.

What's that? The runners? Oh, sure. I bet it was a bit tough on them too. On the plus side, they had a glorious day for it. Mike and Chris finished, ignoring any time goals for the mere thrill of crossing the line. I haven't seen Mike yet today as he was off to work before I arose, but Chris seems in remarkably good shape for a man who did something as silly as run 26.2 miles, on purpose, again. I promise some pics once I get back home and can upload them.

On a side note, we got to dine Saturday night with our good friends from the fellowship, Drew and Sally. It was great to have them meet Mike and Julie, as they live in neighboring areas and have friends in common, and wonderful to see their faces -- but not nearly enough time for catching up.

In other important news, I have experienced the bliss that is the combo of vanilla frozen custard topped with sour cherries from the Dairy Godmother here in Alexandria and I may have tasted heaven.

Also, my nephew Lee, who's 17, read The Catcher in the Rye yesterday afternoon and thinks it's boring. I have a theory that the "novelty" of Holden Caulfield's teen angst, which made the book remarkable at the time of its publishing, is so commonplace to a generation weened on teen-angst dramas like The O.C. and The Hills that the book probably does seem boring. Still, he's promised to read it again in a few years and see if his opinion has changed.

That's it for now -- we're off to take the metro into town to have lunch with my ol' pal Lisa Lindsey, who I haven't seen in an age and a half. Then we'll wander around a bit and, if I'm lucky, I'll get some good shots of DC. Lord knows there haven't been enough pics taken of this town. Not sure how much time we have to kill today, but if there's enough, I'll hit the National Gallery of Art, but I might wait until tomorrow when Chris will be perusing papers in the SEC reading room all day. Boy does that kid know how to have fun!

Fall in Ann Arbor

Fall is, without question, my favorite season and, call me biased, but it's also when Ann Arbor is at its beautiful days. It's my favorite time of year for grabbing the camera, running out and taking zillions of photos of things people have seen many times before but which continue to give me a bit of a seasonal thrill. I'm the guy walking around with her head face pointed up at the trees, truly marveling at the colors of the leaves, wondering how on earth nature pulled it off yet again.

Yesterday was the quintessential fall day -- clear blue sky, crispy leaves on the ground -- except, perhaps, for the temps in the high 70s which made it a little warmer than is perhaps globally apt at this time of year. Thus, I set out for a long walk, armed with my camera and the self-imposed assignment of snapping things that are orange. (A mission made considerably easier by our proximity to Halloween, I admit.)

Pumpkin season is upon us and my neighborhood is playing its part swimmingly. Here, without further ado, just a smattering of those snapshots:

There. If that doesn't leave you feeling like fall, you simply can't be helped.

A weekend in Indy

A few shots from a quick weekend in Indianapolis. Olivia had her tonsils out but, gauging by the general sass quotient in this photo, she seems to be recovering quite swimmingly:

Rebecca dressed as The Very Wealthy Ladybug. Surely you remember that book from childhood?

Olivia modeling some jewelry from her late Grandma Anne's jewelry box:

Our little friend Gabrielle, seriously upping the adorable quotient in the house:

And another photo of Rebecca because, well, equality counts:

Finished is better than perfect

Or so my friend M. always says. And she's a smart woman. I've been meaning to post more here but I'm ridiculously swamped, having bitten off more than I can chew -- and people, I can chew a LOT. On top of it, I've come down with what must be the millionth cold I've had this year. What is up with that? Perhaps I have some exotic disease only House can diagnose. Dag. That would suck.

In my spare time, I have managed to finish a couple of sewing projects, including the ones using the fabric I featured last month. I'm pretty proud of the tote bag I made from the brown and blue fabric:

Plus, I finally got my Dad's birthday presents finished, even though his birthday was nearly two weeks ago. (That trip to Scotland kind of got in the way.) Here's the apron...the pattern for which comes from Lotta Jansdotter's terrific book, "Simple Sewing." I'm just a little worried that this particular apron pattern is too girly.

Also, from patterns in the same book, two handmade oven mitts. They're each Italian food fabric on one side, pasta on the other. It was my first time working with quilting techniques. I desperately hope the batting I used was thick enough. Guess we'll find out the first time my Dad takes something out the oven, eh?

I'm also loving this purse I made for myself out of an curtain fabric remnant I got at Ikea. I lined it with some brown herringbone cotton from my stash. It's the first purse I've made of my own design, which I adapted through trial and error, starting with a reusable shopping bag pattern.

And, last but not least, I'll be heading to Indy late next week to visit my sister's family. My niece Olivia's having her tonsils out and I thought I might cheer her up with a hand-sewn trick-or-treat bag. (A matching one for her sister Rebecca too, naturally.

It's Hallow Kitty fabric (GET it? HUH?) and the inside is lined with orange fabric that says "boo" on it. Why I didn't take a picture of that, I do not know. But you're probably glad.

Now, if I could just be this productive in my writing life, everything would be golden.

Comment on comments

Seeing as I get a lot fewer comments on my blog postings lately, I assumed my readership must have dropped. (No, it never occurred to me that I had a lot of readers with nothing to say.) But a quick glance at my stats tells me I'm getting more readers than ever. Reader feedback, however, indicates that some of you have had problems figuring out how to register for comments. So -- and I hesitate to say this, as I suspect the Spam Gods will take this as a cue to bombard me -- I've made it easier to leave comments. Those of you who have run into technical problems should have no problems now.

And I guess I'll find out if any of you got somethin' to say!

Oh, and also...TOOT TOOT!

What's that? Why, that's the sound of my own horn. Seems like yours truly has been named the 826 Michigan volunteer of the month for October 2007. I'm still working on my acceptance speech, but suffice to say I'm flattered by the honor and embarrassed by the praise. Actually, it's about damn time somebody recognized my efforts. I was just about to sever all ties with 826. I mean, what's the POINT in helping people if they're not going to tell you how awesome you are in return?

And I pledge this: when the Volunteer of the Year pageant rolls around, those other little do-gooders are GOING DOWN! DOWN! BWAAHHHH AHHHH!

Kiki's here!

I've a million things I want to write about, but most of all I wanted to give a shout out (as the kids say, or used to, eight million years ago) to the much-anticipated premiere issue of Kiki Magazine. I've written a bit about this mag in the past few months and I've got a couple of articles in the premiere issue. But I finally got my paws on a hard copy upon my return to Glasgow and I have to say the resulting publication is terrific. I have a terrific amount of admiration for Jamie Bryant working-mom-turned-novice-magazine-publisher.

In case I didn't hammer it home hard enough, Kiki's a fashion magazine "for girls with style and substance." It very cool-y takes young girls' interest in fashion and design quite seriously and serves up a ton of great, informative and interesting articles -- alongside some terrific DIY tips and creativity pages.

The premiere issue includes articles about Donna Karan and Isaac Mizrahi; the history of denim; fashion capitol New York City; spending your money smartly; and the 411 on different types of fabric and where they come from. There are great DIY articles on how to make a ribbon rosette, how to create a budget for your wardrobe; and cute hairdos girls can do themselves.

The mag also doubles as a creativity journal with pages that teach you how to draw, start a dream journal and design your own store front. Plus there are quizzes, book reviews, product reviews, etc. There's a TON more in here than I even imagined when I started writing for it.

So yes, I'm a tad biased but SERIOUSLY, if you know a girl aged 8-14 who digs fashion, you simply must put a subscription to Kiki on your Xmas shopping list for them. I'm a tad older than 14 and I think it's awesome.

And we're back!

Okay, so truthfully we've been back for a few days but since it takes me forever to recover from jet lag, this is the first day I actually feel like I'm back.

It's a bit of a surprise to me -- and maybe a relief to some readers -- that I didn't chronicle this trip with a detailed account of our travels. Life's a little different when traveling with an eight-year-old; there just isn't a lot of extra time to sit around documenting everything.

That said, I was also blown away by the experience of traveling with my niece Rebecca. As people of the non-parental-variety, Chris and I had some expectations about the week. Considering we'd be logging in long travel hours and sticking her in front of a bunch of grown-ups she didn't know (and probably couldn't understand), we were prepared for at least one or two meltdowns along the way. It seemed reasonable that Rebecca would feel homesick and bored and we'd have to mitigate the circumstances.

The truth is, Rebecca was a dream travel companion. I'd gladly take her anywhere. She complained far less than I did about traveling for 17 hours on little or no sleep, gladly rolled with the punches, got along swimmingly with all the grown ups and marveled at every new thing she experienced -- whether it was the seemingly minor thrill of riding in the top of a double decker bus or the major experience of Edinburgh Castle.

But besides all that, she was a hell of a lot of fun to be around. It's an amazing experience when this little thing you've known since day one grows into a very cool human being with a terrific sense of humor, a sharp mind and a great perspective on things. I truly enjoyed her company and I don't think the trip could have gone better.

In fact, there was only one set of tears the entire time (okay, two, if you count my accidentally shutting her finger in the airplane bathroom door), and that was on the last night after she said goodbye to her great grandma and her great uncle. "I always knew I had them," she said, through sniffles. "I just didn't know how much I would love them until I met them." I KNOW! Almost too Hallmark, but true. I had to promise her that I would bring her back to see them again sometime.

So while I don't have lengthy descriptions of everything we did, here's a quick glance at our short stay in Scotland:

Meeting Elvis and other wildlife at the Kelvingrove Galleries.

When stuffed animals attack!

Grandma Pringle, Rebecca and Uncle Douglas.

Shopping on bustling Buchanan Street in Glasgow.

Lunch at the Charles Rennie Mackintosh designed Willow Tea Rooms.

A truly magnificent day in in Edinburgh, where Rebecca was romanced by a knight.

Chris and Rebecca at Edinburgh Castle.

Requisite Glasgow dining: chips wrapped in paper and doused with lots and lots of vinegar.

The Glasgow Science Center, with yet ANOTHER new boyfriend.

And a jaunt across the river to check out The Tall Ship.

And a last-night early birthday dinner with Granny P. and Douglas at our little flat.

It all went by way too fast. (Gluttons for punishment can find tons more photos on my Flickr set page.)

Greetings from Glasgow

Yesterday may have been the longest day ever. Or was it two days? Because we left on Wednesday, arrived on Thursday morning and now it's Friday but really...where are we? It was a long, long travel time to get here. Chris and I drove to Indianapolis, where my sister lives, on Tuesday afternoon so that my niece Rebecca wouldn't have to fly to us by herself. Thus, we had a rather convoluted routing -- Indy to Boston, layover in Boston for three and a bit hours, Boston to Amsterdam, an hour and a half there, then onto Glasgow. By the time we piled into a taxi at Glasgow airport yesterday around 11 am, we'd been on the road for 17 or 18 hours, 11 of that in the air. And Rebecca was the only one who'd managed to get any sleep on the way and she only managed a quick hour and a half nap.

Despite all that and the fact that we felt we were walking through jello all day, the air still seeming to hum and bump with air travel, we had a good, if uneventful day. We're staying in the great little rental flat on Dowanhill Street, the same one we took last year and it's a great idea, especially with a kid in tow. We were able to chill out and turn on the TV for her yesterday to watch the British version of Deal of No Deal. These sort of things are surprisingly comforting to an 8-year-old.

In the afternoon, our big social engagement -- and really, the overall goal of this trip -- was met when my Uncle Douglas walked over with my Grandma to meet Rebecca. Oh, and us, too, I'm sure. We all then hoofed it a block or so over to Byres Road, where we found a little cafe in one of the beautiful little back lanes and sat for an hour or so having coffee (Rebecca had lemonade) and getting acquainted.

It really went very well, although I did have to play interpreter a bit. I don't know that it was any easier for my Grandma to understand Rebecca's rapid American speech than it was for Rebecca to parse her Glasgow accent. But, at the end of the day, when I asked Rebecca what her favorite part of a VERY long day was, she replied, "Meeting Granny P and Uncle Douglas." So it must have gone well.

After a bite to eat at the University Cafe -- where Rebecca sat at the same narrow "kneesie" tables where her Grandma and Grandpa courted -- we were back at the flat and struggling to stay awake until 8 pm, which we deemed a decent enough hour to crawl into bed. I was certain we'd all snooze for a zillion hours, but it's now five in the morning and I've been up for an hour or so. Good thing today's lazy schedule will allow for a nap!

On the roster today is a trip to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery, a favorite visiting spot when I was a child and now reopened after a massive removation it's Glasgow's #1 tourist destination. There are enough dinosaur bones and cool exhibits to offset all those BORING paintings for a kid. We'll probably pop across the street to the Museum of Transport afterwards, although it's hard to impress internet-raised kids with an old trolley.

More updates -- and some photos -- when we return!

The quickest of notes

...to say we're heading off to Glasgow this morning with Rebecca. We have a long day of travel ahead of us that routes us from Indianapolis to Boston to Amsterdam to Glasgow, arriving at 9 tomorrow morning GMT (4 am our time). In the meantime, if you miss us terribly, check out this month's issue of Wired magazine, which has an article about Chris and Sharesleuth in it. I'm a tad disappointed about some of the stuff in there (or not in there), but maybe if you take a gander you can let me know what you think.

Also, don't know if any of you caught Chris' business partner Mark Cuban on Dancing with the Stars last night. I'd never seen the show before, but I'll say this: the man knows how to have fun. If you Tivo'd it, give it a watch.

More from Glasgow after we arrive!

Wanna see my fabric?

I don't even know if all the power of all the internets combined can accurately display for you the beautiousness of this fabric I just bought. Being the sewing novice I am and lacking confidence that I will not totally screw up many of my projects, I usually tend towards the discount bins at JoAnn. But recently I decided I needed a new tote. My pretty orange leather one is dirty and ragged and larger than I want.

I need something that's big enough to fit my laptop and a few other necessities while walking across campus, pretending I belong there. And something I can take to Glasgow next week and tote around everything it takes to keep me, Chris and my niece Rebecca occupied for the day.

I decided to that I would splurge on the fabric, and really take my time thinking about what I wanted this bag to look like and how I wanted to put it together. I marched (figuratively, as it's miles away) to the Viking Sewing Center on Jackson Road, fully intending to pick out some Amy Butler fabric, which I have been drooling over for months.

When I got there, however, there wasn't the selection I'd hoped and I found myself falling instead for these glorious colors. I was all proud, thinking how original I was being with my planning -- i'd use the flowery one for the main body, the stripes for accent and the polka dots for lining. I took them up to the cutting lady and she said, "Oh, lovely. Just like that bag!"

I followed her gaze and sure enough, there was a sample knitting bag that used the exact same fabric, except for the lining. Not only that -- I'd actually walked past it a few moments before and admired it. Guess I'm not so original after all. Anyhoo, I'm thinking I might use this opportunity to try my hand at an in-lining zipper. I know! Crazy! I'll let you know how it comes out.

Today, I also received a package from eQuilter.com containing some fabric I ordered up for my Dad's birthday gift. (Don't worry, he doesn't read this blog.) He cooks a lot and loves Italian food, especially pasta, so I planned to make him an apron and matching oven mitts out of this beautiful cotton printed with all kinds of Italian foods.

I ordered up the pasta fabric (left) to be the back of the apron, but now I have them together, it all looks a bit too neutral and the cream background on the pasta doesn't match the background on the main fabric. Thus, I think I'm going to go out and get some regular ol' cotton in a bright accent color -- maybe pick up the red of the tomatoes or the green of the olives -- and use that for the straps and a pocket. (I always love a pocket on an apron, don't you?) I'll be using the apron pattern from Lotte Jansdotter's book for that.

Oh, oh! And one more sewing related thing before I stop boring you with it... As I try (and fail) to master sewing some clothing items for myself, I've toyed with the idea of buying a dressform. Problem is a) they're expensive and b) they can be tough to match to your body type unless you have one custom made which is c) exorbitantly expensive.

Just when I had given up the dream (yesterday, to be exact), I went on Craig's List and lo and behold, someone was advertising an antique dressform for a song. (Not a cheap song, but a comparative song nonetheless.) A few emails exchanged and it turned out that the people selling it live not three blocks from me and were willing to drop it off on their way to dinner. (Small Ann Arbor side note: when they arrived, they noted the 826 Michigan sticker on my car and it turns out they're friends with the executive director there. Small, small, tiny world here.)

Within a couple of hours, this beauty was mine. Granted, she's a bit worse for the wear, but mostly it's superficial -- some fabric tears on the body parts and rust on the inside metal. I doubt I could even hand crank all the little twisties to get it anywhere near my shape. But it has a lovely wrought iron stand and even if I use it purely for decorative/fabric hanging purposes, having it in the corner just makes me feel that much more like a seamstress. Yay!