Cloth Napkins

We recently had a rummage sale at our church. I helped; so did two of our girls, one of whom was on one crutch doing a passable impression of Tiny Tim if Tiny Tim had ever voraciously bought and sold the entire contents of a used jewelry table. (Aside: I sure got a lot of jewelry this past Mother's Day). While my girls were busy with the accessories, I was over in Housewares, enjoying myself.

Now, I never thought I would have so much fun (or take home so much stuff) from the Rummage Sale, but I did. My enjoyment was centered around two things: aprons and cloth napkins. I surprised my husband into a raised eyebrow a couple of weeks ago by hanging the clothes out on the clothesline while wearing one of the aprons; the capacious pockets were too tempting as clothespins holders to pass up. And one of our goals this year was to become more sustainable as a family in terms of our paper product consumption, so the cloth napkins were irresistible as well.

I am a firm proponent of buying used products. Not only is it good to reuse things (remember your three "R"s) but it takes the guesswork out of whether something will survive the first washing. I have no idea whose home these napkins came from, but I like to imagine that it was a place where setting a gracious table and serving a good meal were a priority. So far, having the cloth napkins on the table at dinner time has been nothing but good. The kids like to pick which color we will be using on any given day and I like the virtuous glow I get from not throwing them away after the meal. Win, win.

Bonfire

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cpurrin1/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

We had a bonfire tonight. It smelled like a campfire, and looked like a campfire, except that it was burning inside our broken outdoor fireplace. The kids had done garden chores all day so that they were ready for a reward (AKA bribe, AKA positive reinforcement) for all the toil they put in. Fortunately, I had driven up to Community Supermarket to get graham crackers, marshmallows and Hershey's chocolate bars before supper so we were well supplied to make S'Mores.

I enjoyed making the treats. I always like toasting marshmallows. It's one of the things I think I happen to be good at. But at a certain point in the evening I realized that it wasn't really necessary to stand there by the fire, taking charge and making everything. The kids were doing just fine all by themselves. It was one of those moments you have now and then as a parent when you realize that you are in an entirely different phase of your family's life. So, I sat back, had a glass of wine and enjoyed watching the children have a wonderful evening.

Knitting for the Pens

Some of you may have heard of the tradition of "growing one for the team" as the Stanley Cup Playoffs progress. Well, as a woman, I don't have that option (fortunately...my husband might not be so pleased if I could participate). What I can do is knit socks.

Some people in Pittsburgh seem to have strong opinions against those who have the gall to knit during a hockey game, imagining that it implies a lack of attention, support, or complete devotion to the home hockey team. Those of us who do knit while watching hockey however, I believe, have a perfect combination of something to do which does not require a whole lot of attention (read: I can still watch the game while I knit) while still indulging our love of crafting AND spending quality time with the (ahem admittedly more devoted) hockey fan we live with.

My favorite knitting hockey fan is Michelle, who is so devoted she drives hours each way to attend games at the Igloo and won't even get up to go to the bathroom for the whole game. If that isn't sending a message to the bench, I don't know what is. And you know all those wool socks have to be great for hanging out in an arena all the time.

In honor of Michelle, and as my small contribution to hockey fandom, I'll be knitting tonight during the Penguin's game. I may have kids to get to bed, dishes to wash and other sundry things to do (laundry, for one) but you will find me parked in front of the TV this evening, watching the game, cheering on the Penguins and yes, knitting a sock.

Rain, Rain

I'm up too late, but the one good thing about that is that I got to hear the rain come up from the valley and across our hilltop. I was hoping that it would arrive at some point and soak my new plantings. So much easier than lugging the watering can around to the front of the house. One way you have to splash and drip down one set of steps, across a couple of rocks and up another set of steps before watering the plants; the other direction means avoiding the clinging fingers of the beech tree and stepping over the obstacle course of garden, old tree limbs, even older composter (old enough to contain a duck skeleton from back when we had duck friends in the yard) before arriving at your destination. This way the waxy, pathetic looking rose bushes-to-be get a nice soaking and I get to go to bed. Thinking about ducks.

Garden Update

I am still not sure whether I am happy to be able to do more work in the garden this year or dismayed at all the heavy labor that entails. Earlier this year I read (quite complacently, I admit) the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and smiled over her descriptions of working all day and falling down exhausted in the evening. I am finding myself falling-over-exhausted over doing just several hours of heavy gardening. By "heavy gardening" I mean, of course not the genteel and ladylike planting of seeds or watering with a hose or even a watering can, but the kind of digging and soil turning and slogging that leaves your muscles shaking and your head aching.

End result: between the efforts of myself and one helpful child I doubled the length of one bed (soil turned), started breaking the clods of soil with a hoe and raked some of the weeds out. I also planted seven rose bushes in the front of the house, and seeded the bare ground in the front that does get some sun with wildflower seeds. Our goal is to eliminate mowing in the front and have a plethora of decorative plants and flowers. Between the huge beech tree that dominates the front yard and the apple trees we put in a couple of years ago a lot of that is done. Hopefully these roses will help to beautify the front as well.

Rose Bushes

In my fantasy life, I am a great gardener. The kind that remembers to put bulbs in in the fall, deals competently with invasively multiplying perennials and deals out a kind organic death to weeds and pests. Up till now I have had an out in the form of several little people who call me "Mom" and needed constant supervision. Now that they are getting bigger, can swing for hours at a time (OK, minutes) without breaking out into a fight or falling down and getting hurt, or even better, like to "help," I am losing my excuses for why my yard isn't a thing of beauty and a joy forever. So what am I doing on this May morning? Putting off heading outside, drinking another cup of coffee...writing this post. Sigh.

Table Cloth

Since quitting my job at the public library I have been throwing myself into domestic work. Now don't get me wrong. I'm no Martha and while I love to bake, every day I wish someone else felt moved to cook dinner for the family. But the other day I put on an apron to hang out the laundry. I've been taking the kids to volunteer and even joined a month-long quilting class, where I produced half a pillow cover (oh all right, it isn't done yet) and a potholder. And I have started getting really excited about things like putting a cloth on the table and using linen napkins. Go figure. There may be cobwebs in every corner and cat hair on the couch, but at least the dining room table looks really fine.

Creativity with Kids

Somehow, reading bios of successful writers who made it big while raising their families makes it sound so easy. "I kept the typewriter in the kitchen," or "after the kids were asleep I churned out a chapter or two." Or from La Roberts, "I got bored while snowed in with little kids and no chocolate." The fact that they made it at all is amazing to me. I guess I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, but when the kids are up they all talk to me. Constantly. And I can't concentrate on writing one sentence and speaking another one at the same time. By the time they get in bed at night, I'm wiped out. It seems like the only time of day I am able to be productive in this solitary, self-centered business of creative writing is early in the morning before the first little person gets up. Which, considering we have some real morning people in the family, can be pretty early. I guess the other option is to ignore the kids, pass the chores on to everyone else and pamper my inner muse.

So here's hoping I manage to get to bed on time most nights and get up when the alarm goes off.