Nothing but rim.

Spotted on my walk home from the L.


That's a lot of stolen bike. But one mighty U-lock.

It wasn't me.

Neighbors in my condo building are cranky. And cranky people leave passive aggressive notes. Specifically, cranky people leave notes on the bulletin board at the entry of the building. This is today's.



So far there have been nasty notes to a unit owner who's dog was spotted in the back yard (egads!). Complaints about stolen cupcakes. (Seriously, who leaves a package of cupcakes in a public lobby of a 91-unit building for 2+ days and expects to find them?) And other assorted gripes about bad neighboritis.

Now, I don't meant to belittle the thefts. Afterall, I lost my beloved mountain bike two years ago to a thief who got into a back stairwell and rode it away. But the anonymous notes? Really?

Ah, life a condo.

Photoshop and inspiration.

I don't know how to use it. But damn if that doesn't keep me from trying. From my collection of Easter pictures. Anyone with mad PhotoShop Elements skills, I'll swap lessons for quilt instructions!

A bedroom problem.

No no, you dirty birds!! I have an, ahem, different bedroom problem. Specifically? This.


Not sure what you're looking at? It's one of the several big-ass scuff marks my stupid headboard has put on my wall. And NO, pervy! Not from that. Please. Anyhoodles....

I've hated my headboard since I got it, but it was cheap and that was -- and is -- good enough for me and my tight budget. Still, I was getting fed up with the scratches. And finally on Friday, while frantically preparing for my parents' arrival, I decided to bite the bullet and make a headboard cover.


To make the slip cover I used five-inch nine-patches I started piecing together about a year ago, hoping to finally make myself a quilt for JUST ME. Since my project kept getting put aside by baby quilts and wedding projects and giving sewing lessons to friends and all manner of assorted other things, I finally accepted the idea that my bedspread quilt just wasn't meant to be. And with that, I dug into my pile of nine-patches.

With that I mind, I measured the headboard (a queen-size is 60 inches), grabbed five of my favorite blocks, arranged them in a way I liked and sewed them together using the standard quarter-inch seam. They formed a strip that was about 68 inches long at that point, so I trimmed 3 inches off each side to fit my length while still allowing room for a seam allowance Then I added white sashing at the top (3.5 inches wide x the length of the piece) and bottom (5 inches wide x the length of the piece). I hemmed the bottom sashing piece to keep raw edges away and did the same thing on white backing that ran the length and width of my patchwork top.

And, voila! Super pretty AND functional headboard that looks awesome and keeps the piece o' crap from further marring my walls.



The whole project was super easy and took me about 40 minutes to do. Alas: I was in such a rush that I didn't think to take pictures for a proper tutorial. So these will have to suffice.

But, tell me. Whatcha think??

Scenes from a Sunday morning.

Easter dawned dark with an angry sky and an angrier wind. Some of the 30 of us gathered along the shores of Lake Michigan were wrapped in blankets by the time the service began at 7 a.m. Some wore gloves and scarves. Others didn't even bring coats.


But as we stood huddled together in a circle, singing songs of praise about the miracle of Easter, the sky began to soften. The sun fought through the clouds.


And it wasn't really that cold any more.



Light overcoming dark. Warm replacing winter. Rebirth defeating death. It was a fitting metaphor for an Easter morning.

The seagulls were squawking. (Was our singing THAT bad?)


The sun won. And by the time the service was done and we were headed to church for breakfast to finish the rest of a long day of services, it was radiant outside. And our prayer flags flapped in the breeze inviting people in.


Inside, light streamed through the windows.


The flowers smelled like spring.


And we were so, so happy.

He's a walking man.

Meet new friend Matt. He's all kinds of lovely. And smart. And awesome -- after all, he loves to play with the Macy Mutt.

Oh yeah, and he's spending the next nine months walking across the country. You read that right. Nine months. One very, very long cross-country trek.

He left Rockaway Beach, N.Y. on Saturday and expects to wind up at Rockaway Beach, Ore. when 2011 rolls around.

Now, you might think Matt's a wee bit nuts to try this. (Ok, you might be a wee bit right. But let's not get all judgey on the boy. Glass houses and all, right?) But sane or not, you've got to admit: this is kind of neat. And brave. And scary. And exciting. And crazy. And ... And...

So why the hell is he doing this? He admits to a need for adventure and some reinvention of his life. But there's more to it than that. I'll let him explain, from his FAQ:

There’s also no obstacle to stopping and exploring things when you’re walking. When I’m driving, I find myself saying “Oh, I should have stopped there” as I go flying by something that looks interesting. The idea of having to impede your progress, turn the car around, and find a place to park is such a mental barrier to exploring when you’re driving. Even on a bike there’s a hesitancy to stop and climb off the saddle to go check something out. But it’s easy when you’re walking. You don’t have to stop what you’re doing; you just walk in a different direction for a little and have a look around.

But perhaps the thing I find most important about walking is how connected it makes me feel to the space I’m passing through. I think it’s because walking is the way we experience our homes. We walk to the fridge, we walk to bed, we walk around the yard. We walk to the copy machine, we walk to the coffee machine, we walk around the grocery store. So this is that same familiar stride, that most basic form of locomotion we know so well, but through vast, immense, unknown places. It’s a way to live a continuous line across the country as if it were my home.

I’m very drawn to the simplicity of this whole pursuit. Each day I’ll wake up, pack all my possessions back in my cart, and walk a little farther. That’s it. That’s the extent of my world. I’m just walkin’. I think everyone dreams about such a simple existence from time to time, when the worries and pressures of modern life start to accumulate. This is my chance to live that dream for a while, and see how the reality compares to the fantasy.

He outlines the logistics on his blog: what's in his cart (A LOT), where he'll sleep (he's got camping gear but he's also hoping to rely on the kindness of strangers), how long he'll walk each day (far enough to make my fat ass go "ugh.") etc. But the coolest thing on his Web site is turning out to be the pictures of what he sees and the people he's encountered. While I'm sure this journey won't be all puppies and bunnies and roses and compassion of strangers -- in fact, I know there will be a lot of hardship and some dangerous situations -- he's off to a good start so far.

In Boonton, N.J., the pastor at a local Presbyterian (yay!) church, let him come in out of the rain and made him tea and soup. She even brought him the Haggadah, since it's Passover! (10-to-1 he becomes part of a Holy Week sermon. Just saying. I know my preachers.) The next day, the owner of a hardware store refused to let him pay for the supplies he was buying.

I know these stories abound in the communities along the Appalachian Trail, where it takes folks about six months to thru-hike from Georgia to Maine. But this is far from that area and Matt is far from a sight folks are used to seeing. It's been so refreshing to see the kindness of strangers as they interact with him. I know he's just starting, but I can't wait to see what happens.

So, if you live along his route and happen to see a scruffy looking dude pushing a modified jogging stroller with a sign that says "We may never meet again" do me a favor: Buy him some coffee, let him shower and rest his feet. And let him repay you with the awesome stories of his journey. You'll be glad you did.

In which music gets stuck in my head

Today was The Day Of The Brainworm. Some people, like, say, you, might try to get rid of the brainworm by listening to another song. I try to drown the brainworm. By listening to the tune over. And over. And over again.

This is to explain why I listened to this song no less than three dozen times while sitting in the office today doing work.



Laugh all you want, but COM'N! Who didn't L-O-V-E Sister Act? And OMG, nuns! Rocking out in Latin. Fact: I had "mater ad mater inter marata" in my head all morning while dancing in my chair. Oh ... my high school Latin teach would have been so proud.

Of course, Hail, Holy Queen was only one of the morning songs. Since Spring has, however fleetingly, decided to make an appearance in Chicago, I decided to skip one of my morning buses and walk across the Loop. It was before 7 a.m. and the sun was rising and birds were chirping and it was just effing stunning. And then, somehow, this popped into my head. And stayed there.



For the record, there were so many good versions of this on YouTube. I liked this because, I'm presuming that since it's an Italian choir, they don't speak English. I love the idea of American gospel music (something of which I admit I know nothing about) going overseas. Plus, I dig the soloist.

And finally, since apparently I have churchy music on the brain, my afternoon musical moment came after Holy Week services, where the final hymn was "What Wondrous Love Is This." No offense to the organ player and all, but it's my experience that bluegrass makes almost all spirituals better. Judge for yourself.

A seasonally appropriate lion.

I don't know about you, but I love bizarre neighborhood quirks. And no, not the kind of quirks that come from bitchy neighbors and ridiculous zoning regulations. I'm talking about little things that are the heart and soul of your community. In mine, it's a weird little concrete lion who has the most diverse wardrobe you've ever seen.

I don't know the history of The Montrose Lion, a yard ornament in a too-tiny-for-people fenced in area of a nearby condo building. And damn, does he have a wardrobe. In my years here, I've seen him in a Santa suit at Christmas time, New Year's glasses, a variety of Halloween get ups (my favorite is his Zorro costume), a kid's Cubs jacket, a Bears helmet, a summer dress and Valentine's attire. I could go on. The best part about the lion's wardrobe is that it's all ratty and beaten up -- what with it having to exist outside in Chicago's famously horrendous weather.

But that doesn't stop whoever dresses him from making sure he still looks his best.

I bet at this point, words have stopped doing justice for this little neighborhood treasure. Click here to see him with his 4th of July accessories. Or for a more up-to-the-moment look, behold this picture I snapped tonight, showing the lion in his Easter best. (Sidebar: Let's hear it for the cell phone camera, huh?)


Doesn't he look SMASHING?

Picture perfect.

While my friends were prepping the nursery for a paint job ahead of the arrival of Baby No. 2, I entertained their fabulous 3-year-old princess and her best friend (who is also the mutt dog's bestie), a Boston terrier named Pica. We had a MARVELOUS time at the park.

The princess brought her dog and some books and a ball. I brought my camera. Behold: the fruits of my photographic labor. (With an assist from The Pioneer Woman's photoshop accents.)

I speak for the trees.

I felt like I should save this for Earth Day, but oh well. I came across these tree trunks-turned-public folk art. Is it weird to be captivated by the eyes? They're so ... Well, I love them.



Since it's Holy Week and Passover and I'm trying to be extra mindful about the Celtic spirituality idea of finding holy in the ordinary, I thought I'd remind us of this quote from the Lorax:

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.

Quilty goodness for a baby

I made a quilt for a new baby who is expected to arrive just in time for Mother's Day!! His name is a secret, although I lobbied for Charlie Blagojevich or Daley Blagojevich. His parents wouldn't hear any of it. Alas.

Dimensions are 40x40 and it's made up for simple 4x4 blocks I cut using stuff from my stash.

This is a close up of the quilt top before I quilted it.


Yes. You read that right. I quilted it. All by myself. Yay me! Who cares if the lines weren't totally straight??



Here's a view of the back:



And finally, a fancy pants little shot:

In which I clean. Sorta.

So, I've been on a staycation this week. (Jealous?)

And while it hasn't been nearly as productive as I would have liked, I'm proud to say that I've been watching TV, eating brownie batter, bubble bathing, reading, reading, reading and sleeping to my little heart's content.

Of course, I've done less organizing, cleaning and sewing than I hoped. But I don't go back to work until Tuesday, so there's still time.

When I was taking pictures of the fruits of my power tool labor, I thought I'd take a few pictures of my FINALLY clean bedroom and show off some of my favoritey little things.

OMG! ISN'T THIS THE MOST EXCITING THING EVER!?! .... Or, uh, something.

Up first. What I'm reading right now. And after being forced to read it in school, I've got to say, I'm pleasantly surprised. In fact, I sorta love this book. Go Bronte sisters.



Next we go to who I came from. Ish. This is a pictures of my great grandmother on her wedding day. Next to it is some fancy pants letter press of a fiddle (an instrument I occasionally play, if given enough alcohol first), made by Yee Haw Industries and sent to me by the always awesome Currer Bell as a birthday present last year.



Speaking of Currer Bell, here's a great lamp she and some of my Chattanooga besties bought me for a birthday many many moons ago. See that stuff in the background? That's the 8 gazillion inches of snow that fell in Chicago.



The lamp lives on my desk, which for the next 10 minutes will remain organized. Or so I hope. I spend more time than is healthy here. Occupational hazard, and all.



Next, some desk lovelies. Some make me laugh. Some inspire me. Some are just, well, crude. But then again so am I. It's why you heart me.

A Christmas card I couldn't bear to send and instead I try to remember the message all year. Look closely: You can see a Noodles in the reflection. Aww.



My little desk Jesus!! He hangs out next to the post card. Yes. I love to be weird. In fact, I delight in it.



And then finally, my beloved bulletin board. Made by my grandfather when my mom was little, it's a stalwart.


The end. Please, tip your tour guide.

Grawr! And necklaces!

This afternoon I used a power tool! All by my cute little self! Ok, technically I used the cordless drill I've owned for years and used every so often. But whatever. I'm always impressed when I manage to measure twice, drill once successfully. Especially when I do it with all my digits intact.

Anyway, I've had a wall hanger thingy for years that I got God knows where. Back in the fall I painted it and just haven't gotten around to hanging it. Until today.

Behold! The perfect necklace organizer.




Of course, I lack the abilty to take just ONE picture of something. Here's a close up of one of my favorite necklaces that I got a cool store in Milwaukee. Any guesses why I love it so much?


(Fact: The necklace behind it is an old typewriter key with my first initial.)

And since it's Valentine's Day, here's a close up of my red necklaces. I like this because the Asian-themed one is a piece I bought in Chinatown during my trip to San Francisco. The other one belonged to my grandmother, who died last month. I got to take home a few pieces of jewelry that she had and I love it. It's a little long for me (what with the ginormous boobs and all), but I like knowing that it belonged to her.)


For the record, I have more necklaces on it now, so it looks less, uh, weird. Anyway, yay for the power drill!

Home

There's been a death in the family, so I'm back home on Maryland's lovely Eastern Shore. I used to hate this place growing up and left when I was 16 to go away to school. I visited after that, but never really came home. Despite the years and the travels that have taken me across the country, it's weird how you never really can leave home. (Or maybe home never leaves you?) And almost 14 years after I first left, I realize that I sorta like this like place. Actually, I sorta love it.

It's weird and quirky and sometimes backwards, but it's teeming with its own unique heritage (Two words: Oyster Wars!) It's a weird town: similar to a small suburb, it's the only city in the area. And outside of resort spots that balloon on summer weekends, with 28,000 residents, it's the only game in town.

It's changed since I left. There's a Starbucks now. And more big box stores. And houses along the coast are being sold at Sotheby's for more money than I'll ever make in a decade.

But its rural roots are everywhere. Which leads me to this.




For the curious:
a) Muskrat on the menu is a seasonal fare. You'll only find it in the winter months.
b) I just stopped to take a picture. Not take a bite
c) But I hear it's tasty.
d) Don't believe me? Here's a list of muskrat recipes.
e) My favorite, in name only, has to be either smothered muskrat (with onions) or muskrat casserole.
f) $10 says this post is NOT going in the direction you expected.
g) For the record, during other parts of the year, I'm fairly certain some places serve nutria.
h) Which, P.S., are super cute little invasive species.

Addendum: My friend Doug says I should have called this post Muskrat Love. He's probably right. Well, crap.

Pretties!

I've been focusing on sewing baby quilts for the 8 gazillion pregnant people in my life. But after Lido sent me his super-awesome pictures of the baby blanket he knitted, I couldn't resist.



I truthfully have no idea what I'm making.




But damn if it isn't fun.