Help Me, Harry

Harry has 127 hints in this booklet, most of which involve using dye, and none of which are going to help me get the house clean for the barbeque tomorrow. #67: "Have you an old worn out broom you're just about ready to chuck out? You only use it for whaling Junior when he comes home late for supper, anyway. Well, just shear off the whisks evenly, then snitch Pa's old hat he should have thrown away last year and after you've covered the broom with the felt, you've got the dandiest floor spot remover you ever saw." I've got 22.5 hours to whip this hovel into shape, but no old hats to maim. Why am I blogging instead of cleaning? Why am I cleaning instead of partying on a Saturday night? "Pa" is out, and I've got a clear shot at all the dust, but I'm just procrastinating instead. Having been raised Scrubby Dutch, I know I'll get the sparkle back around here, but it won't happen unless I get up right now!

Shawls For All

I go on jags, and right now it's Noro top-down shawls: the rainbow is for someone who needs cheering up, and the fuzzy one is for an expectant mother. The first one shown (in progress) is my own Morning Dew shawl in Noro Silver Thaw, based on Fountain Lace from Barbara Walker's second stitchonary. I charted it out all by myself and so far it's working just dandy. Knitting lace is like solving a sudoku puzzle, only then you get to wear it.

Keep It Real

I'm surrounded by so much natural beauty this summer that sometimes I just have to "keep it real" by contemplating artificial flower crafts. My wedding anniversary is tomorrow, and I'm thinking about making this tree for my husband. He could put it on his desk at work or something. I don't know what the hell to get him, actually. The man has 1,001 ties already. I think I'll stick with what he'll really like: a tiki torch lit steak barbeque and premium booze.

Household Hints

One thing I always keep an eye out for when rummaging through thrift stores is books full of Household HInts. I could just read these hilarious things all day. They're always full of things to do with runned (ran?), ruined, pantyhose (use them to tie up your tomato plants!), and tricks on how to get the most mileage out of a pound of hamburger (add lots of other stuff to it, duh!). I especially like to read them because I keep hoping they'll let me in on the ultimate secret: how to keep the house sparkle-clean without actually having to lift a finger. No luck so far, but I have been converted to the use of vinegar as the ultimate cleaning fluid. These books all realize that hiring a passel of toothless hoosiers is not an option: "cleaners" just get angry if you ask them to please scrub the scum out of the soap dishes next time, and try not to leave mop marks all over the floor. Household Hinters all work under the basic premise of "If you want something done right, do it yourself." This is no secret, but it has withstood the test of time. Unfortunately, it sure cuts into one's knitting hours.

Hoosier Mfg. Co.

A friend of the family who knows I love 30s junk gave me a booklet put out by the Hoosier Mfg. Co. of Newcastle, Indiana in 1930. I want to fall into a "Twilight Zone" episode where you order stuff from old catalogs and it's somehow magically delivered across both space and time. Or I need to become a billionaire so I can restore and then "retrofit" a period bungalow with perfect pieces of vintage fabric, furniture, and pottery. Oh, and I'd like a 1932 Duesenberg to park in the garage out back, too. Thank you, Mary Pat!

Bigfoot's Mama

Today I trucked a bunch of native prairie plants up to a friend's farm in Calhoun County, Illinois — "The Peninsula That Time Forgot." It was thrilling to help plot out the garden, but the biggest thrill of the day was when I got to meet my cat Bigfoot's mama. Bigfoot (see photo above) was rescued from the farm as a 6 week old kitten when coyotes started sneaking onto the porch of the farmhouse where he and his littermates were still nursing. He slept on my hair for the first week after we took him back to our house, he missed his mama so much. Until the coyote incident, my friend had been unable to get anywhere near mama, and so have her fixed. But after a few of her youngsters died horribly, she turned to humans for protection, and is now tame enough to pose for photo ops! Isn't she gorgeous? It's easy to see where Biggie gets his good looks.

Milkweed Feast

A lot of people are hesitant to plant anything from the Milkweed (Asclepias) family in their gardens because they think of them as, well, weeds. And they do tend to colonize an area. So? Give them some space! Just look how beautiful!!! Plus, Asclepias is the primary food source for the King of Butterflies, the lovely orange Monarch. The first picture shows a Monarch caterpillar stuffing his lil face full of Purple Milkweed. (Note the dirt under my thumbnail. That won't go away till winter!) Two years ago, these same caterpillars ate all of my orange Butterfly Milkweed (third snap) down to the nubs, not a single leaf of six plants left, and shortly thereafter I had 10 magical green chrysalises dangling from the side of my house. Since Milkweeds are weeds, nothing short of herbicide can kill them, so despite the merciless defoliation, they sprang back to bloom again later in the season. "Plant A Milkweed, Save A Butterfly." Lastly we have a gratuitous cute pet photo of Bridget the blue chihuahua, waiting patiently in the carport as I get my pants soaked in dew taking weed pictures.

Weeds For All

These native plants are finally blooming their rain-happy heads off two years after their tiny seeds were strewn forth. They've enjoyed this wet spring, but you don't have to water them. Or prune them, or mulch them, or, God Forbid, spray them. They thrive on neglect: you can't kill them. Birds, bees, and butterflies love them. Plus, they're beautiful. Why don't all gardeners plant weeds? Go wild! Grow native!

The Hot Plate Mat Says:

"Ouch!" Whenever trolling the shelves of a thrift store, it is soooo important to open all boxes and peer inside. The tattered black box that holds this treasure gave no hint of the poetry inside! If years of junking experience hadn't been on my side, I could have easily walked right on by this darling $1 bargain.

Lichen Granite Shawl

I love Noro yarns. After realizing she didn't want to figure out how to knit it, a friend gave me a skein of Noro Kochoran #31 she'd bought on Nantucket. Now this wool/angora/silk blend is my favorite yarn of all. It's so soft and fuzzy and lovely. Sigh. I mixed the free yarn with two hanks of Kochoran #40, and made Evelyn A. Clark's leaf shawl with it. Something warm and cuddly just in time for a nice hot humid St. Louis summer! These colors remind me of the lichen-splotched grey-trunked stunted trees growing around the rosy Elephant Rocks near Ironton, MO. "Inspired by Nature," indeed.