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The colors and stitching of this little daisy boutonniere remind me of Girls Scout merit badges.  I finished the edges with a true buttonhole stitch (not to be confused with a blanket stitch — take a look here for the difference). 

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In honor of Veterans Day on November 11th, I made a poppy out of wool felt, with French knots for the seeds.  It turns out that poppies are usually associated with Memorial Day, not Veterans Day.  This is confusing to me since November 11th is also Armistice Day — the day in 1918 when peace was signed between the Allies and Germany ending World War I — and poppies were first worn in memory of those who died during World War I, after the poem “Flanders Field,” by John McCrae.  The Department of Veterans Affairs explains that Memorial Day is for commemorating the dead, and Veterans Day is more for thanking the living, so you are supposed to save poppies for Memorial Day. 

The Veterans of Foreign Wars first started selling paper poppies in 1923 to raise money for wounded and disabled veterans.  Even when I was young, the little old men and women selling those paper poppies touched some soft spot in my heart, especially the men wearing their VFW caps and ribbons.  I try to imagine what they went through in whichever war they survived and how it must feel to stand on a street corner or in front of a store, trying to sell tissue paper poppies to a mostly disinterested public.  I am very much anti-war, especially because of what it does to the men and women who serve.  And especially, these days, because of how the rest of us carry on as though nothing is happening, our lives untouched in any way.

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I stitched up these wee boutonnieres last night from little flowers I had embroidered a month or two ago.  They are so dear and a mite wonky — I love them.  They’d be great on a jacket or bag.  I have one more embroidered flower to go, but I might make more as they are so precious and fun to make.

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Do you realize that we are just six weeks away from Christmas?  Seems impossible but for crafters that means it’s time to get busy if you haven’t already.  I suspect this year I will not make all of my gifts.  The fellas are hard to craft for and there may be a point at which my female relatives have all the hand-stitched items they need/want.  Whatever I make, I must work from my stash as much as possible this year.  Time to head over to Sew Mama Sew for their annual “Handmade Holiday” gift ideas to see if that sparks anything.

Crafters, what are you making your friends and family this year?

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Trails at Val-Kill

On Saturday, my friends and I had intended to go to Val-Kill, the Eleanor Roosevelt National Historic Site, and the FDR Museum and Library in Hyde Park,  and then, if there was time, the Vanderbilt Mansion.  Well, we were up late on Friday night, catching up over red wine, so we had a leisurely morning on Saturday and didn’t get down to  Hyde Park until the afternoon.  We decided to head straight to Val-Kill and save FDR and Vanderbilt for another trip.  Val-Kill was Eleanor Roosevelt’s retreat, the only house she ever owned, and her home after the death of her husband. 

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Val-Kill

Eleanor Roosevelt was an amazing woman and the greatest First Lady this country has ever had.  She was Franklin’s conscience, always pushing him to do more, especially on civil rights and poverty.  But before and after her time in the White House, she also accomplished an incredible amount.  Before her marriage, she worked in NYC settlement houses, and after FDR’s death, she worked as a diplomat.  As chair of the United Nations’ first Human Rights Commission, she wrote the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.  She was a columnist and author, writing numerous books and essays.  Touring her house, we also discovered that she was an inveterate crafter — knitting, embroidering, doing needlepoint!  What’s not to love about this woman?

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ER's first book, before she claimed her own identity.

Watching the short film at Val-Kill and then touring the site, we all agreed that we need to re-read Blanche Wiesen Cook’s incredible biographies of ER.  (Speaking of amazing women, BWC is one of my personal heroes and a mentor from my years at CUNY.)

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I recently cut my coffee consumption in half, meaning that I went from drinking two large coffees a day to one large coffee a day.  If I was unsure about the effect of this change, yesterday — or rather last night — made it clear.  Usually, if I want a second cup, I’ll make decaf, but yesterday I accidentally made more caffeinated coffee and drank it anyway.  Zoinks!

Not only did I have an overwhelming rush of emotions about an hour later — feeling prickly and short-tempered — but I could hardly sleep at all last night and finally got out of bed at 6 AM.  I never get up that early.

On the bright side, I got to see dawn break over the Prospect Park hill and observe the morning crows.  The evening crows wheel and swoop and circle, but the morning crows are all business, streaking south past my window.  It was almost enough to make me consider getting up at 6AM every day to watch the morning arrive and the crows depart.  Almost.

If you are as fascinated with crows as I am, check out this awesome site.

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Here is a little embroidery of the yogic expression, namaste.  These embroideries are all on 4.5″ squares, so the final rice bag/sachets will be just 4 inches or so. 

I spent the afteroon yesterday with two of my upstate friends for what has become a regular art-making date, then went to yoga last night.  Today, two of my NYC friends are coming for what we hope will become a regular history-geek weekend.  We went to Seneca Falls a couple of years ago and will visit Hyde Park, Val-Kill and possibly Olana this weekend. 

I am feeling very blessed these days.  My work is inspiring, there is art and craft around me, and new and old friends to share and celebrate with.  My heart is full.

Namaste.

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There are a couple of little embroideries that I made recently with the intention of stitching up rice bag/lavender sachets, but I am waiting to get some orris root (which is supposed to help the scent last longer) before I finish them.

This one is inspired by Annie Lamott’s wonderful book, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.  The title comes from a story she tells about her brother needing to write a report for school on all the birds of North America or some such thing.  He put it off and put it off, and then the night before it was due, sat at the kitchen table in a panic.  When he wondered aloud how he would ever get it done, his father told him, “Just take it bird by bird.”  The moral, of course, is that when you are feeling overwhelmed — in your writing, in your life — with the sheer volume of tasks or obligations that lie ahead, just focus on what comes next.  Just take things bird by bird.  I take a deep breath and say this too myself all the time.  It is a mantra that wards off insanity and paralysis.  Try it.

If you are not familiar with the work of Annie Lamott, you should be.  Read her book, Travelling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, and I promise that your life will be 100% better than it was before.  (Yes, it’s about her faith in Jesus, but honestly, it’s about everything else under the sun as well.)  I have owned so many copies of this book I have lost count — I have to keep replacing it because I am always giving it away to someone.  You can get a taste of her work by reading some of her old columns over at Salon.

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Here is a little reality for you — the corner of my desk at the end of the day.  It starts off so neatly in the morning and by the evening it is swamped with used tissues and sticky notes and other detritus.  On the wall is a list of files that I have already been through for Chapter 2 (my work in progress) and two quotes for inspiration:

“Know that it is good to work.  Work with love and think of liking it when you do.  It is easy and interesting.  It is a privilege.  There is nothing hard about it but your anxious vanity and fear of failure.” — Brenda Ueland

and

“Work done in the spirit of play has the only true seriousness.” — George Cram Cook

(And always running through my head like a mantra is Annie LaMott’s injunction: “Bird by bird.”)

I use sticky notes at an alarming rate.  I make little lists of sources I want to double-check, questions about the document I am reading, books I want to read, tasks I must complete, calls to make and emails to write, ideas for craft projects and recipes, song lyrics and other random trivia to google (“Was Jane Russell in The Outlaw?”).  I use them mainly as a tool to keep my butt in the seat when I am about to become distracted.  When I think, “oh, I should water the plants,” I write it on a sticky note list and tell myself I’ll do it later. 

There are an infinite number of distractions when you are writing, especially when you are getting started.  Without my stack of sticky notes, I suddenly find myself in the kitchen cleaning the toaster oven, wondering what the heck I’m doing when I’m supposed to be writing.  Discipline is a skill that must be practiced every day, while procrastination is as natural to me as breathing.

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