The Charlie Brownest Of Christmases

Yesterday I dug out the two Charlie Brown Christmas trees I have. One is about 15 inches tall after it's stretched into shaped when removed from it's box. It has a nice wooden base the tree screws into that has the Peanuts logo burned into one end of it. It also has a little battery operated speaker box underneath with a button on top that when pushed, plays the Linus and Lucy theme song. It comes with a very nice lone red glass ornament ball to hang on the drooping branches. It has Linus's blue blanket to wrap around the base of the tree....all pretty much just like what you see in the classic Christmas special on TV every year since 1965. I also have the smaller version of it...about 12 inches in height, minus the music box and Linus's blanket. Both are 50th Anniversary editions of A Charlie Brown Christmas from 2015. They were a must-have since A Charlie Brown Christmas was such a big part of my childhood, and pretty much ever year since then. The nostalgia was just too precious to let slip through my fingers. 

All that being said, It's been that long since I've put them out. Living alone the past 5 years has made holiday time strange and quite a bit of a conundrum for me. There truly is no Christmas in my house. I have to go elsewhere to celebrate it with family on those days. Decorating for Christmas is a bit of a puzzle. Who's gonna see it but me? I always put lights in the windows and wreaths on the doors. That part I get to share with everyone else. But decorating indoors leaves a lot to be desired. 

I haven't put the big tree up in as many years. I have a small table top tree I put out if it feels right. Some years it doesn't. This year has been a bit different, though...and it's odd because the budget is tighter than it's ever been and I won't get to shop for gifts. Work has had me so strung out that I haven't even been able to make things to give in shopping's place. But since Thanksgiving weekend, I've had a bigger urge than ever to create some joy in this place. 

I put lights up inside. Everywhere. I've dug out Christmas decor I haven't seen or thought about in years. I have a LOT of it just stored away in boxes...and I've been thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close to dragging out the big tree and all it's dressy finest to put up in front of the big picture window (do they still call big windows that?). I ultimately decided against it because I don't trust the dogs, Charlie and Mr. Big, to leave it alone (water it every time they pass it 🙄), and my 3 kitties would no doubt have a hey dey with all the glitter ornaments and ultimately discover climbing the thing. Every. Single. Day. I'm gone too much for all that. I just don't have the energy to clean up all the mess and make all the repairs every evening after work....and, no, I'm not up for caging the tree or hanging it upside down from the ceiling that's become the thing do in situations like this these days. Great in theory, but way too much work and expense just for a couple of weeks of the tree being up. 

But it's been fun thinking about putting the big tree up. It's made me know that what I have done outside of that is enough...and has perked this dingy little place up quite a bit. It's defintely brought some joy this holiday season.

I hope you've found joy along the way in your holiday season. Sometimes a few strings of twinkly colored lights strewn wherever a spot needs twinkling and a couple of little Charlie Brown trees is all it takes. 🎄🎅

Launch Day

 Today is blog launch day. Hop on and enjoy the ride!

Scroll down to start reading posts. 😃

Crochet Anyone?

In the world of blogging, there are infinite subjects to write about.  If you Google "blogs", you'll find anything and everything you could ever think of...and some things you don't necessarily want to think of. But it's all out there and this blogger is adding to it. 

After many years away from writing online everyday, I'm looking to switch things up a little where subject matter is concerned. My old blog was mainly about knitting because I was obsessed with the craft and couldn't keep the needles and some kind of fun yarn out of my hands. I always had a project going and it went with me everywhere I went. Typing away about it was pretty much the only thing that kept me from actually knitting in the moment. Knitting blogs were abundant back then and it was great to be part of that community.

The old blog did take an occasional detour from the subject of knitting. My life was quite different back then and there was lots to talk about - some good, some not so good. Sometimes it became a release of pent up words and feelings when I couldn't put them anywhere else. It was a good experience and served it's purpose for a couple of years. That was back in blogging's hey day when it was easy to acquire followers to fuel more inspiration and keep the momentum going. It was a good run for what it was worth.

When my life took a pretty drastic turn and I needed to retool my path and objectives, the blog fell to the way side and I never got back to it. Looking forward now, changing up the subject matter here to match what may or may not be happening, things that keep me busy, corny thoughts and observations I have on a daily basis, hobbies, pets, and a plethora of other things I surround myself with can keep my fingers pretty busy here at the keyboard from time to time.

My first post here was about clothes pins. The second post was about Halloween cookies gone wrong. I can think of a half dozen other things right off the top of my head to fill up post numbers 3-8. I'll settle for #3 right now. Today's post (besides the rambling in the first 3 paragraphs) touches on the subject of crochet. I do quite a bit of it and feel it warrants a place in my current blogosphere. Not everyone relates to it as a crafter, but odds are you grew up with it around you in some form or fashion. Those old doilies your grandmother had under everything in her house, or that granny square afghan thrown over the back of your mom's couch when you were growing up was crochet in your life, whether you knew it not. 

Like knitting, crochet is an addiction in a roller coaster sort of way. I've been crocheting for 53 years. I learned at the age of six and have been doing it ever since. Throughout all these years, I go through phases of it where I crochet a lot and turn out quite a few projects. Then I get a bit burned out and don't do it so much for a while. I go through what they call "losing my crojo"...hence the roller coaster analogy. It has it's ups and downs, it's ebbs and flows. It offers those euphoric highs and then that feeling flat at the bottom and not moving forward. But even when it sits flat on the bottom for awhile, that old craving comes back, pulls me back in and I'm on that ride to the top again. That's what's good about it - it's ever changing and never gets dull. 

While yarn has been the mainstay of my crochet history, thread has been right up there the last few years. Doilies are a favorite go-to (even though they haven't been popular for several decades now), particularly some of my mother's old favorite doily patterns. One of my brothers kick started that a few years ago when he called me one night and asked "can you make me one a them grape doilies mama used to make?". I knew I had her old pattern for it. I told him I'd dig it out and study on it for a bit. I didn't make him any promises because I had no clue if I could make heads or tails out of the pattern instructions....and it had been many, MANY years since I had worked with thread. It was a daunting thought. 

I read over the pattern several times over the next few days. I decided it might be worth a shot. I hadn't made any promises at this point and I had nothing to lose. The next day off from work I had, I set out to shop for thread for the grape doily. I wanted to try to match the ones my mother made as closely as possible color-wise, with the exception of the god awful Kelly Green that was used for the leaves way back when. I loved those doilies when I was growing up, but even as a little kid who knew nothing about anything, I hated that particular green. The pattern was published by the old Coats and Clark textile company, which also made their own crochet thread, and called it 'Kilarny Green'. Yuck. I still shudder when I read that in the pattern. So, I knew I wanted something a little less stark and more palatable in today's colors and wide scope of decorating styles. I settled on an olive-ish green. I got about three different olive shades to accommodate a variety of purples. I was pleased with my color selections and was well on my way to making "one a them grape doilies mama used to make." 

I didn't tell my brother that I was working on one. I didn't want him to be disappointed if I couldn't pull it off. I cleared (rather clumsily) the hurdles of working with tiny crochet thread and an itty bitty steel crochet hook. I'd spent many years working with big fat worsted weight yarn and seemingly giant hooks compared to the tiny stuff facing me now. It was an adjustment that would take me a bit of time to conquer. I kept thinking back on the fact that when I learned to crochet at the age of six, it was with crochet thread and a steel hook. It wasn’t until I was about twelve that I took up using yarn. I didn’t look back to thread very often after that. So, fifty plus years later, it was like learning all over again…and how could it be so difficult to make the transition to something that was the very foundation of my craft? I scratched my head a lot over that one. 

Next was deciphering the nearly 70 year old pattern geared towards 1940's grandmothers and the crochet lingo that existed back then. It took a little more studying and thinking on when my mother and grandmother used to talk crochet patterns back then. Once I recollected some of those conversations between them, the pattern made more sense. I actually started with some practice thread before I dug into the thread I bought for the project. I had no clue what I was facing, so I figured I better get my feet wet on something I wasn’t going to care much about in case I had to do a lot of ripping back and starting over. 

As I started to work it, it slowly started taking shape. In the days ahead I worked on the doily whenever time would allow. I was pretty pleased with the progress until I got about half way through the making the first leaf in between the grape clusters. I kept getting hung up on a pattern step. No matter how much I reworked it, it kept coming out the same. I would look at my work, then look at the picture on the pattern, then look at my work again, and look at the picture again. I did this for a good week and decided I couldn’t go any further. Either the pattern had a major goof, or my brain was just dumb to the whole thing. I put the doily down and didn’t get back to it for awhile...a very long while. Life goes on.

The train wreck doily from my first attempt...

A year and a half later after a marriage break up, a move to new apartment and adjusting to life without a lot of crochet involved in the process, I felt that old feeling starting to creep back in. I went upstairs to go through yarn, patterns, and old projects I’d started eons ago but never finished. I ran across the dreaded grape doily. I kind of shook in my boots at the thought of that old thing. I picked up the bag it was in, pulled it all out, smoothed out the wrinkled unfinished monster and looked at the pattern again. I put everything else back where it was stored except for the ‘bag 'o doily’. I trotted downstairs with my find and determined that I was determined to conquer the beast. 

That evening I sat down with it, read over the pattern a couple of times and picked up where I left off almost two years earlier. All of a sudden it made sense. It just clicked and I took off with it, FINALLY finishing the very first leaf. It got easier with each subsequent leaf and lo and behold, it looked like the doily in the picture! I found a slight error in the pattern and corrected it with what I thought it was supposed be instead. It worked and the rest is history. I celebrated kicked back with a glass of wine, admiring the handiwork that suddenly made sense and looking forward to actually using the thread I bought to make the ‘real doily’.

I finally made the doily my brother wanted so long ago….and hope he'd long forgotten about it because I never got back to him about it. I even made another to add to it because I kept finding gorgeous colors to use for the grapes. I felt so bad about making him wait so long for one, more than two years at this point, I thought he deserved two: ‘One a them mama used to make’ in her traditional colors with a variation on the green…and another in a different purple and green variegated for the grape clusters. It was a good feeling. I blocked them, packaged them, addressed the box and sent them on their way to a land far away from me - Arkansas. I’m in Texas but Arkansas might as well be half a world away since I don’t get out much anymore.

A few days later my sister in law messaged me with a photo of the doilies being unboxed, then a another photo later that evening of both doilies proudly displayed on their coffee table. My brother called me that night with his voice breaking a little and just said “thank you”. That’s all that was needed. I knew they meant a great deal to him. Mission accomplished. 

That more than two years of the grape doily saga set me on a path to make many more in the future. I never really knew when I acquired my mother’s old crochet patterns after her passing just exactly what they would mean to me and many others years later. It started me on a path of family history discovery, self discovery and the desire to carry on my mother’s legacy. She loved to crochet and did a lot of it when I was growing up. She did a lot more of it after most of us kids had flown the coop. I kind of follow in those foot steps these days.

The first one for my brother in the traditional colors.

I’ve since made countless grape doilies – traditional colors, colors for the different seasons and holidays, made to order for people who literally begged me to start selling them because they love the nostalgia behind them. I have several stories about strangers shedding tears over them because of the memories they bring back – long forgotten doilies that no one realized during their childhood would come to mean so much years later when a picture of one I’d made popped up in a crochet group online. But that’s a post for another day.

The second one for my brother in a different grape color.

There will be posts here from time to time featuring my crochet wares, stories of their origins, what the progress is or isn’t of the latest WIP (work in progress), maybe even set up an online store for some of it if I can ever get some inventory built up (working full time puts a dent in that mass production dream), the inspiration behind some of them, the fun of it all, the hair pulling moments because I’ve decided it just hates me, and maybe just photos of stuff I’ve made because I can.

If you decide you’d like a little crochet inspiration to spur on your own addiction to it, or maybe you’ve never tried it but would like to learn, or maybe you just like looking at handmade stuff from afar, follow this new blog and pop in here occasionally.

 I’ll be happy to feed you...and then come back for seconds. 💗

The Great Halloween Cookie Disaster of 2021

Halloween of 2021 has come and gone. That's not very profound in and of itself unless you're talking about making cookies to give out as treats on Halloween night...and that's just what I did this year.

I don't observe Halloween as much as I used to. As I age I find it's not as needed in the same realm as it used to be in my own life, nor as fun as it used to be. I still decorate my apartment, but on a much scaled back 'dragging out all the stuff' I have to do it with. I don't have kids in my home anymore to get ready for it. It's just me...and the need for a big to-do for Halloween just isn't necessary any longer. The neighborhood I live in is big on it though. Lots of pretty spectacularly decorated houses starting way back in early September. It's a Trick or Treaters paradise on Halloween night where the candy haul is concerned...and this year especially so, trying to make up for the lack of it last year. A pandemic will do that...put a screeching halt to things, and that included Halloween 2020. But the apartment complex I live in is like a virus itself and NO ONE comes here to trick or treat. Ever. 

This was my fifth Halloween here. The first year I bought candy to hand out. Lots of it - because of the apartment complex where I'd lived previously just a few blocks away. The kids at my door in the previous place on Halloween night were abundant to the point I'd run out of candy and have to turn the lights off. I'd buy a lot more candy the next year and still run out. I pretty much expected the same thing here. After all, there were lots of kids that lived here and why would that be any different, right? Wrong. Seems the matter of "just a few blocks" makes a huge difference in trick or treaters mapping out their night to get to where "the good stuff" is. 

My first year here, as I have done every year, I decorated the doors. Put strings of orange lights in the windows. Shopped for candy to cover 6-ish p.m. to 9 p.m. I lit the holiday candles, poured myself a glass of wine, put in the dvd of It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and sat at the dining table to watch both the front and back doors because I didn't know which one they'd come to...and waited. And waited. And waited some more. No one ever showed up. My sister brought her girls over. I was expecting them and had made up some special treats for them. That's it for the whole night. I was confused, a little sad....and wondering what the heck I was gonna do with all the candy I was suddenly stuck with. I sure wasn't gonna eat it. It wasn't necessarily "the good stuff". You know how that is. 

The next year, thinking the previous year was just a fluke, I bought candy again to hand out, but not nearly as much, albeit a little better selection just in case. Same thing. Sister came with her kids. That was it. This particular year I'd observed that the resident kids did NOT trick or treat right here where they lived. Their families decorated their spaces like crazy, but didn't stick around to see which of their immediate neighbors had the best goodies. They took off  to where they knew the getting was good and never looked back. So, the next year I didn't buy candy to hand out...and haven't since. That leads me to the actual subject of today's post. Cookies.

As I said previously, I made treats a little more special for my sister's kids. I do every year. I usually buy some fun and different candies and include something else like a dvd I figure they'll like, or some other trinket they might enjoy. I package it all in a cute little Halloween themed bucket or bag and trim it with Jack O Lantern print ribbon for each one. You get the picture. This year I opted to do something different other than buy candy and do the same 'ol, same 'ol. 

I was in the grocery store the day before and saw these little tubs of cute orange Jack O Lantern short bread cookies. I had this brilliant idea to get a couple of those, some kind of yummy frosting and the stuff to decorate them with. How hard would that be? After all, the cookies were already made. I didn't have to make a big mess with baking. Just decorate and go. Simple! NOT.

 The before - Cute little pre-made Jack O Lantern cookies.

My first mistake was waiting until the day before Halloween to put it all together...or to even come up with the idea, but on a budget like mine I'm stuck with doing just that more times than not. But back to the shopping. I knew I wanted a cream cheese frosting to frost them with. I found plenty of that in stock. That's #1 checked off my list. I had some green sugar at home to do stems and leaves, so no need for a green frosting tube. Check. Next was tubes of black and orange decorating frosting to make Jack O Lantern faces. Two stores and no such thing to be found. That's #2 and #3 not checked off my list. I went back to the first store where I got the cookies and the frosting and had to settle for a tube of orange glitter gel. It was pretty but because it was gel, I knew it wasn't gonna go the way I wanted it. Previous unsuccessful experience with it told me that. But I didn't have money or time to hunt for and buy all the stuff needed to make my own from scratch. So, the sparkly orange gel in a tube it was.

You may ask why I would go to all that trouble when the cookies already had faces built into them. The cookies were cute, but lacking in personality. They needed a little dressing up. I was making my nieces special Halloween treats and why shouldn't they be in 3-D and glorious technicolor???? I would have been excited about thickly frosted, extra sweet, happy faced Jack O Lantern cookies if I were the kid on the receiving end of them. So, going into it I didn't think it was any trouble at all. The shortages on the list for my project not withstanding, I happily carted my goods home and looked forward to diving into the colorful, frosted fun.

The next morning I sat down at the table with a cookie sheet, frosting, gel, green sugar, all the tools needed to smear, spread, sprinkle, draw and define, and set out to make my nieces Halloween treats. I opted to make a dozen...four for each girl. By the time they were finished they'd be pretty thick and rich and I figured four each was enough. I soon regretted just one. Putting the actual frosting on each cookie wasn't bad. No real issues except for trying to keep the edges even and round and not get it all over my hands in the process. Next came the green sugar for the stems and a few little squiggly leaves on top. That's where the hurdles began. The sugar just wasn't the thing for that. Can't change it at this point, but I digress. I trudged on to the next step. Time for gel. I outlined each frosted face and drew the lines to create the sections of the pumpkin. I was pretty happy with the gel progress so far. Time for the face. Herein lies the real disaster.

I worked ever so carefully drawing triangle shaped eyes, and then on to the gap-toothed grin. Oh brother! (insert face plant here). There was no such thing as any definition and a reasonable facsimile of that gap-toothed grin. All it did was run together...and run together some more. The more I worked at it, the worse it got. About four cookies into it I was ready to give it all to the dogs. When I finally reached that twelfth cookie, I was sooooooooo  happy I never found anything in black to add to it. I sat back and looked at the cookie sheet full of my little pumpkin disasters and thought to myself, if those ain't some scary ass looking Jack O Lanterns, I don't know what are! I didn't have the resources or the time to change my mind and run out to shop for something else. Into the fridge they went to set the whole frosting/gel thing so I could bag them up later. That evening about an hour before I figured my visitors would be arriving, I attempted to put them in plastic sandwich bags. Another insert face plant here. Sticky, smear, smush, struggle...and sticky, smush, struggle some more. I did not take a picture of that mess.

The after - scary, SCARY Jack O Lantern cookies 😖

My sister and the kids came by that evening. I gave them their cookies with my head held in shame and tried to explain my plight. They were very understanding. My sister, who I consider a master baker and very good at what she does understands the struggle. It takes the baking and decorating mistakes and disasters over time to get to master status. I just hope they thought the cookies tasted much better than they looked. After all, eating your Halloween goodies is the ultimate goal, right????? If you can get past the smeared, smushed frowns, they did taste pretty good...at least that's what Charlie and Mr. Big thought. They're my two dogs and give me their approvals or disapprovals about everything around here. I had a couple myself. The taste far exceeded the look.

On a happier note, this is my eleven year old niece in her costume this year. She's getting SO TALL!!!

Do It Yourself  frosted cookies for Halloween. Never again.
 



  

Where The Clothes Pins Are?

So, here I am revisiting the thought of becoming part of the blogosphere again. It's been a few years since I left the old blog behind and ventured on to a life outside of writing online everyday. Blogging takes time, daily dedication...and subject matter, which I didn't feel I had much of these past few years. I've left some of my spilled guts on Facebook in it's place, but nothing dedicated on a regular basis. 

The world we live in today with all it's craziness everywhere we turn has had me looking inward a whole lot the past couple of years. That inwardness revealed some subject matter and turned my thoughts toward blogging again. That's how I came up with the new blog title "Where The Clothes Pins Are". I can find pretty much anything I'm looking for around the house and then some, where the clothes pins are. That phrase goes a long way back in my life and suddenly made perfect sense to me about a month ago.

When I was growing up, my mother never had a clothes dryer. She always had clothes lines outside to hang wet laundry on to dry. If we moved somewhere that didn't have clothes lines, lines were always strung wherever they would fit in the back yard...and where there were clothes lines, there were clothes pins.

 

My mother always had a cloth bag with a wire frame at the top opening and a long wire handle bent at the top to hang and slide along the line for clothes pins. She made the bags herself from cheerful, colorful, calico print fabrics. She would replace them every other winter or so after they had faded and worn from much outdoor use. They were very simple in form but a bright spot in an otherwise dreary job for us kids who got stuck with hanging out fresh wash once we were tall enough to reach the clothes lines, even it meant standing on a kitchen chair to reach.

That bag of clothes pins was never left hanging outside on the line. It was always brought back inside after each load of wash was hung to preserve the wooden clothes pins and protect the bag itself. It was always stored where it was easy to get to when needed, but usually in a place where a multitude of other utilitarian things were stored...like the corner of a partially enclosed carport, or a tall corner shelf in the kitchen, or a service porch where the washing machine was, or a screened in breezeway between the house and the garage. You could find pretty much anything you were looking for in these areas if it didn't have a designated place elsewhere in the house. If anyone asked mama if she knew where something might be we couldn't find elsewhere, she'd say "Look where the clothes pins are."

In today's world, not many of us hang wash out on the line anymore. My sister still does, but that's another story for another time. Most have washer/dryer combos to keep life as simple as possible. As a result, we don't have a colorful bag of clothes pins hanging near the washer. BUT...I do. No, I don't have clothes lines, nor a cloth bag to store them in. I don't even have a washer or dryer (apartment life dictates that). But I do have clothes pins. Lots of them. Cute, sturdy, brightly colored plastic clothes pins I keep in little baskets all over the house...and the utensil drawer in the kitchen.

I use them for mostly everything other than their intended use...potato chip bag clips, on flour and sugar bags in the fridge, hang pants on hangers in the closet, hand washed lingerie on hangers to dry over the bath tub, hold a recipe book open to a certain page, pin the towel on my head after I wash my hair, and a multitude of other uses in my crafty endeavors and around the house. As a result, clothes pins are pretty much in all the areas of my apartment that get the most use. 

I discovered not long ago that I have a bag of clothes pins stored deep inside myself. It's always been there. As I get older and I go about life differently than I did forty years ago, even two years ago, I find myself looking inward a lot more. It isn't something I set my mind to do. It just kind of happened on it's own. The colorful bag of clothes pins inside is a nice place to reach into these days.

The pandemic has certainly given the multitude ample opportunity for such a thing. I'm kind of the exception to that rule because the "shut down" didn't shut me down. I've had to get out every day to keep working and shop and do my daily stuff. I didn't luck out and get to work from home, or have my shopping or meals delivered, or any of the other things it forced many to do. But it did provide the opportunity for my thought processes to change somewhat and re-evalute what's important to me, my life today and life going forward. That's where I discovered that bag of clothes pins inside.

I don't look for as many things to do, or buy, or say, feel or think these days. I think that's all part of that "with age comes wisdom" thing. What once was important isn't as important now. What I once thought desperately needed saying is better kept quiet. What once used to horribly get under my skin doesn't matter anymore. What I once thought I just couldn't live without hasn't been on my radar for quite some time. It's just easier to not get so focused on all those stresses and let life happen. In a world that's so worked up over so many things today, this approach to life serves me well.

I find that if I feel there's something missing around me, chances are I'll find it inside myself "where the clothes pins are".

My jump back into blogging, even though it's not a trend anymore, has officially begun. It will be a mix of things I think, feel, and do. I hope it's a journey you'll peek into from time to time.  

Did you lose something? Have been you looking for something without getting the results you want? Try looking inward "where the clothes pins are".