Serendipity Studio . . . In The Beginning

I promised you I would be sharing my latest adventure, the making of my new craft room, Serendipity Studio, so here we go!

My sweet husband built me a sewing room in the basement about 2 years ago. I was thrilled, because he built this house 7 years ago and I had been waiting, waiting, waiting . . . and had all my stuff in boxes, boxes, boxes. 

I would sew and paint on the kitchen table, and had things pretty much scattered all over the house.

 

 

When the sewing room was FINALLY finished I was SO happy, and got busy opening boxes and organizing.  You could hear a lot of  "Oh, so that's where that was" and "I knew I had this somewhere" coming out of the basement as I opened them.  I was a little surprised at how much I had actually accumulated.  I had duplicates of many things - notions and tools and even a couple books - because I could never really find anything.  Remember, I had about five years of things in boxes . . . and when I went to work on a project and I couldn't find what I needed,  I ended up going to the store and buying it. 

When my sewing room was finished I LOVED it and felt that I was the luckiest girl in the world. I never dreamed I would have such an amazing sewing room of my own.  As I continued unpacking, I was  shocked to see all the fabric I had accumulated.  I will just take a deep breath and say it . . . "My  name is Julie, and I am a fabriholic."  There.  I said it.  It's really nothing I didn't already know, but now you all know.  And I know for a fact I am not alone. Anyone out there considering the possibility that you too are a fabriholic?  It would be fun to hear back from you on that!  Luckily my granddaughter will be learning to quilt, so I will designate an entire shelf of fabric for her, in her own little special space. 

I have so much stuff in that sweet little sewing room. I am going to take out all that is not related to sewing and quilting and move it into it's new home, Serendipity Studio.  I can already hear my sewing room sighing with relief as I empty her contents.  I should try to think of a name for her too, shouldn't I?  Here are some pics of the basement as we were getting started.  

My son and my son-in-law pouring the "knock down" material into the machine.  This sprays out a texture onto the drywall, which is already up and waiting, thanks to those two fine boys.  Lucky for me I had three boys, because only one of them is into this sort of thing. The other two are computer guys! See, if you have many children your odds are better of having someone that specializes in something!!!! 

The "knock down" sprays out of that blue funnel thing and they just go in a back and forth motion to evenly coat the walls.  Some of the walls will be the actual outside foundation  walls with no drywall, and it will look a little nicer with some texture.

  

We painted the room the most beautiful shade of pink.  I loved it. 

 Can you see the darling ceiling fan?  It has dimensional zig zag lines on the glass bulb that look like ric rac, and it has tiny flowers on the blades that look like polka dots.  Plus it is the prettiest shade of pink.  I saw it and grabbed it up so fast, I was certain it was made just for me!  I'll try to get a better pic of it later.

Then I decided it was too much pink, so I would paint one wall blue.  I have big plans for that wall.  More later on that.

Yes, I am a dork.  I was actually having fun. I was about to do some decorative painting on the wall.  I'll show you that soon, once I finish it.  Remind me not to wear that outfit out in public.  I thought I looked thin in it until just now.

  

I'm really getting excited about this.  I hope you are enjoying watching it all happen!

 

Winter Wonderland

Hello my sweet friends,

Just as the seed magazines have started coming in the mail and I'm thinking about what I will put in the garden this year, we had a snowfall overnight. It was one of those beautiful, breathtaking, heavy, wet snows that sticks to everything.  

I feel like I am in a Disney movie where I am walking in a winter wonderland.  My world shimmers and sparkles, compliments of the  glistening snow, which is so heavy the branches are bending to the ground.  Surely, very soon, I will be hearing the happy sounds of children sledding down the hill near my house. I thought I would share some of Mother Nature's beauty with you.  

You know what they say . . . the best things in life are free!  Enjoy!!

Serendipity

 

ser·en·dip·i·ty/ˌserənˈdipitē/

Noun:

The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way: "a fortunate stroke of serendipity". I love that word.  Serendipity.  I even enjoy saying it aloud.  It rolls right off the tongue in a happy kind of way, almost musical! Are the things that happen in our lives serendipity, determination, or are our fates planned when we were created?   Whatever you believe, I think we all can agree that "a fortunate stroke of serendipity" is a welcome thing. I have a huge project going on right now.  My sewing room in the basement is bursting at the seams. The room that opens up to it was supposed to be a family room.  We have decided we don't really need a family room, and it seemed perfectly logical (at least to me) to expand my crafting area!   An overflow sewing room, a craft studio, call it what you will!  I am so excited!   Talk about serendipity.  We have been saving pieces of lumber and all sorts of building materials over the past several years for the family room, so we have plenty to work with.  Literally.  And now, it is time to get started!  I promised my husband as soon as the room is done I will clean and organize the entire basement.  He's no fool.  We live in fear that the Hoarders show will come knocking at our door to film an episode in the basement. Is he building the room out of love, or to get out of the awful job of cleaning the basement?  Probably both.  I have been trying to think of a name to call the new room and have finally decided it will be called my Serendipity Studio.  After all, it is "Serendipity" that it just happened to turn into a room for me - and it will be a "Studio" to house the excess from my overflowing sewing room.  I am going to put all things not directly related to sewing or quilting into the new room - painting, crochet, knitting, embroidery, papercrafting, paper mache, and of course glitter!  All my vintage collectibles gathered over the years. . . figurines, books, aprons, doilies, and handkerchiefs will finally have a proper home.    My granddaughter will be delighted to find her very own sewing station, with a brand new Hello Kitty sewing machine . . . just for her.  She has the soul of an artist and the love of creating. My daughter, her mother, also has an artist's soul but doesn't realize her potential . . . yet.  Believe me -  I have plans for both of them! I really want to encourage them in any way I can.  The sewing machine is supposed to be for her birthday in May, but we'll see how long I can stand it before I give it to her!  My daughter and I have great difficulty keeping a gift a secret until the right time.  She will usually call me and tell me she is so excited that she got the most perfect gift for me and wonders if I can't stand waiting so she can tell me now.     After much prompting from several of my sweet blog buddies, I have decided to share my journey from beginning to end and let you all in on the excitement. I protested that I didn't think anyone would be interested, and they promised me that some of you would.   I sincerely hope it is as much fun for you, following my progress from post to post, as it will be for me.  Get ready . . . . set . . . . GO!

With her own two hands . . .

I start thinking about it the moment I open my eyes.  Even while I say my prayers, put on the water for my coffee, and make my bed, I am thinking about the plans for today.  Oh boy,  I am so excited!!!!!  Ok, by now you're thinking, wow, what is she doing today?  I hope I won't disappoint you when I tell you I am going antiquing. If that wasn't enough, on the way we are stopping at a quilt shop.  Ohmygosh, I'm practically giddy!  I have been looking forward to some calm and peace and quiet since Christmas, and finally it has arrived.  A little time to relax and do nothing.  No parties, no holiday meals, no presents to make and wrap. No cookies to bake.  Whew!

When we have only a few hours, I pick one of the nearby antique stores,  but when we have the whole afternoon I always choose the same place. It is amazing.  It is called Historic Volo Country Village, first settled in the 1830s.  Some of the original structures are still standing today, including one of the huge barns housing antiques.  A local family purchased a 30-acre dairy farm which would later become what is now known as Historic Volo Country Village. It still has that small village feel but has a lot to offer. Just thought I would share it with you!  It is in the Chicago area if anyone is interested, here is a link. http://volocars.com/ 

Anyhow, back to my story.  You should see me as I get ready to go - I think you would laugh.  I pack up like I am going on a little vacation.  I empty my necessities from purse; cell phone, camera, paper and pen, debit card, kleenex, and every last dollar I can find  into the pockets of my most comfortable old coat, as a purse would only get in my way.  I make sure I have my little reading glasses tucked into the front of my shirt, which will later be perched on the tip of my nose like the typical little old granny!  I pack a little snack - two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on homemade bread with my peach-orange-pineapple marmalade which I made this summer, as well as some Diet Coke and a huge glass of ice. If there are any baked goods around the house I pack them too.  This will be perfect for when we start getting tired and thirsty.  After a couple hours of wandering I am usually ready for a little break.  Once I am refreshed and replenished and rejuvenated I kiss my husband, who by then has started snoozing reading magazines in the car. He can shop for a couple hours but not four or five like I do! 

 

We're off.  And I swear that when we are going somewhere I don't particularly want to go my husband drives really fast, and when we are going to an antique shop or quilt shop and I am so excited to get there, he drives five miles under the speed limit.  He tells me that is absolutely not true, and that it just feels that way to me - but all I know is that I just can't get there fast enough.  We're only forty minutes  away, but it feels like hours. 

Finally, we have arrived.  This place has three HUGE barns filled with antiques,  and about 7 pole barns filled with vintage cars.  The retro 1950 style snack bar, complete with vintage tables and checkerboard floors has a Betty Boop movie playing on the overhead screen for all to enjoy.  Sometimes the smell of the chili dogs is too tempting for me to resist, and of course I must purchase a hand dipped pretzel or two to munch on to keep up my strength.  Really healthy, right?  But really good! There are T-shirts and posters and all kinds of memorabilia to tempt me. I bought some cheap but really fun movie star sunglasses to wear. Quite silly actually.  But then, so am I.    

Ready, set, go! We are ready to shop.  Usually my husband's plan of action is looking through the car museum and all the buildings filled with cars. When he is finished he tries to find me in the antique barns.  I always dive right into the antiques. As we part ways he usually slips me a $20 dollar bill which makes me very happy because now I have  a little extra jingle!  Woohoo!  He's a good man.  He used to ask me if I needed money and I would always laugh at him - because what a dumb question, right?  And then he would ask how much money I need, and that would make me laugh again as I would ask him how much money he has in his wallet!

I tuck my $20 into my  pocket and merrily skip into the first antique barn.  As I enter I look at the time and try to plan my strategy.  Should I go to my favorite booths first, or start at one end and work my way through all three barns?  I usually end up a little short on time, so I debate if I should start at the opposite end today.  But I don't.  I am a creature of habit.  I will take my usual route and visit my favorites along the way.  I already know which booths are worth venturing into. Of course I give the other booths a quick glance just in case something catches my eye. 
I have my camera ready to go.  I take so many pictures of such fun things.  Maybe I couldn't afford them, or really have no place to display them, but I know when I get home I will enjoy going through the pictures. Sometimes I take pictures of something that  I would like to try to recreate at home.
As I wander amongst the dishes and linens and collectibles I feel a connection with the people these may have belonged to.  Most of the items are from the forties and fifties in the booths I look in. Back then money was scarce. Certainly most people didn't have any extra in the household budget to purchase items just for the aesthetic beauty.  As I picked up some darling little porcelain figurines, examining them from all angles, debating whether the price was good enough for me to bring it home, I got to thinking. Back then, owning an item such as this probably meant so much more to them.  People didn't have huge collections of beautiful things, unless of course they were lucky enough to be one of the few wealthy people of that generation.  Oh no, they had to make every penny count and only buy things that were needed and necessary.  Nowadays, we have so much of everything - too much if you ask me - and we don't even appreciate much of it.  Back in the days when people had less they were more careful about purchases. An item usually had to be practical. Homes were smaller too. A family had to decide what was really important enough to use up valuable space in a kitchen counter top or cabinet - or even hanging on a wall.  If it could also be beautiful then so much the better!

As you know, our clever and hardworking forefathers and mothers didn't let a meager income stop them from having beauty all around them.  Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers cut down trees and gathered the finest pieces of woods. They brought these home to their workshops, barns, and front porches. They would begin cutting, carving, whittling and sanding until they had a wonderful piece of furniture, a useful hand tool, or a beautiful carved item.  Those same hands that worked the fields and cared for the animals also brought function and beauty to the home and to their lives.


The men and women had very little spare time, but when the supper dishes were cleaned and the household chores were done, there was a little bit of time for relaxation.  The family usually gathered around the fireplace in the winter and out on the porches for some fresh air in the warmer months.  I am picturing a scene from Little House On The Prairie. The family is sitting around the table or near the fireplace, the father is playing the fiddle.  The children danced as they sang. Mother smiled, watching her loved ones, clapping her hands in time with the music.  After the children were all tucked safely in bed Mother would pick up her little basket full of mending to be done.  Perhaps not a most enjoyable chore, but mending and repairing clothing was necessary.  These women had a desire to do something a little more colorful and creative, and many saved small scraps from pieces of clothing and pulled threads to use later to create the most wonderful quilts and stitcheries.  Lucky for us, because many of us own these handmade quilts and beautiful heirloom clothing, as well as crocheted and knitted items, which were passed down from generation to generation. 

Notice I say lucky for us.  I feel that any item handmade with love and care is one of the greatest treasures we could ever hope to receive.  It is just like when a person takes the time to make a homemade meal, or bake a pie or cake for loved ones.  What a wonderful gift - with their two hands they make a creation for all to enjoy.  We are so lucky.

As I see all the beautiful hand-crocheted potholders and doilies, and hand-sewn aprons, dolls, and clothing, I have mixed emotions. I
pick up a crocheted potholder and marvel at the beauty.  I look at all the intricate details and appreciate all the hours it took this woman to crochet this potholder.  I imagine that this was made during her evening hours after all the days work was done and all family members were cared for.  I think about how she must have carefully clipped the pattern or instructions from a newspaper or magazine. I look at the $4 price tag and wonder how this could only be valued at $4.  I feel sad.  I think I must buy this, because I love it and some woman many years ago loved it too.

Not too far away is a sweet old quilt calling my name.  It has pink flowers set in green borders, with hand quilting done around the flowers and stems.  As I look at it more carefully I see it is a very large quilt. A nearby shopper helped me open it up and I saw it has several spots that are quite worn. Perhaps this is just from use, or the way it was stored or displayed.  I am wondering  who made this quilt. Perhaps, like me, she loved flowers, pretty much anything  pink, and applique. I think about how she must have saved the scraps of fabric from feed sacks and clothing too worn to be repaired.  I wonder if she maybe traded with a friend or neighbor or family member to get the fabric  colors she wanted. Or, maybe she had a little pin money from teaching piano lessons, trimming the homebound neighbor's hair,  selling eggs, or homemade jam.  Perhaps she had a farm stand outside the front of the house where she sold her fresh produce. 

Maybe, once she saved up a little extra money for herself she went shopping and bought a yard or two of fabric for the flowers.  
I think of the time she spent tracing out the flower appliques and stems.  I think of how she worked so hard while cutting the squares to make them perfectly square, and how much care she took to make sure the border strips were straight.  I think of her hand stitching the flowers to the background.  I think of her happiness while making this quilt.  I know when I am making something I am so happy.  I just love making things with my own two hands.  I think of her imagining this quilt being finished and proudly displayed on her bed.  I wonder how many years this quilt was used on the bed, and if every time she looked at it she felt happy.  Or, maybe this was to be a gift for a daughter or granddaughter or niece who was going to be married.  Maybe she had a sister who loved flowers and pink was her favorite color.  I guess I'll never know. The price tag says $35.00.  

Yes, it is worn and a little stained, and does have some blocks that are in pretty sad shape.  I imagine someone would buy it to cut up into a smaller quilt or pillows, but I didn't want to do that. I took some pictures and decided I could make one just like it.  As I walked away I wished I had $35.00 extra so I could buy it.  As I made my way into the next barn a sort of sadness came over me.  Don't ask me why, but I really wanted that quilt.  I marched back to the booth and gathered the quilt in my arms, carried it to the counter, and asked if this dealer had a sale coming up soon. I was told that any item over 20 dollars could be given a 10 % discount.  I still didn't have enough money to purchase the quilt.  I sadly brought it back to the booth and carefully put it back the way I found it.

I must tell you that I have been to that antique mall at least ten or fifteen times over the past five years and each time that I walk past that booth that quilt calls out to me. I don't know why. Maybe because it is pink appliqued flowers?  Perhaps.  Maybe just the simplicity of the quilt, nothing fancy or overdone, just sweet.  I wanted so badly to buy it this last time, but consoled myself by deciding to save my pennies to buy it the next time I visit. I must be the one it was meant for, because visit after visit it sits patiently waiting for me.

Don't for a moment think that I don't feel it isn't worth $35.  I think it is worth much more, priceless really.  I just didn't have that much  money.  And don't think I don't want to buy the quilt. I do.  I will start saving coins in a jar and shave a little off my grocery bill  for the next week or two until I have enough money to buy this quilt.  Now that I am thinking about it, I might just contact the antique mall today to have them ask the dealer what her bottom dollar price would be, and if I they will hold it for me until my next visit. I am not trying to be cheap, and I am not devaluing the quilt.  I just don't have the extra money.  But if I did I would gladly pay $35, because I think it is worth ten times that.  I feel the time and care put into this quilt, made with love and with her own two hands is worth so much more. I don't know who made it or when, but it belongs with me.

When I see these items in the antique stores I can't imagine how a family would just get rid of them when someone they loved worked so hard on them.  I have a several items from my family, crocheted doilies from both grandmas and several quilts from my great aunts from downhome, and I treasure them like they are worth millions.

As I wander through these cast-off treasures, I think of the amazing items our ancestors created with their hands and how these things brought beauty to their homes and to their lives.  I think of the joy and satisfaction they felt while creating these things, and the pride they must of felt when completing the item. As I hold these items I wish I had a million dollars so I could buy them all. The fact that they could be so easily discarded makes me sad.  I wish I could speak to the prior owners and explain to them how much these items must have meant to someone they loved.  I wish I could meet the woman who made this quilt, and the women who crocheted these beautiful doilies, and tell them that I appreciate the time and work and love that went into these items that they created with their own two hands.

My wish is that if you ever are lucky enough to have an heirloom  passed down to you that you treasure it.  I also hope that you explain to your children and grandchildren the importance and value of these items.  I very much hope that you are also finding time to create something that you love that can be passed down to family members after you are gone, and that they will love and treasure it.  Because, after all, it is something that you created - with your own two hands.

P.S. After writing this post I called the antique mall and asked them to contact the owner of the quilt for her best price. She said she will take $25 for the quilt. I agreed to the price and they are holding it for me until I get there again! I'm so excited. I will carefully wash it and display it in my new craft room.  I hope whoever made this quilt is looking down from Heaven right now, and smiling. . .
 








For more wonderful vintage images, please visit my friend Meri at her blog   ImagiMeri's

One of those days . . .

 
Every once in a while I have one of those days.   I know what you are thinking . . . one of those days where everything goes wrong.  Sure, I have days like that, as we all do.  On those days I  tell myself tomorrow will be better, and it usually is.  What I am talking about is one of those days where everything seems to go as planned, and everything goes well.  Sometimes even a few little unexpected nice things happen that you didn't plan for.  I would call this a good day.

On a good day, when I leave dreamland (where I am in a quilt shop with an extra hundred dollars and ten pounds thinner) I can slowly open my eyes and not have a million things pop in my head that I need to do today.  Can it be?  Do I really have a day where I can focus on me, myself, and I?  Of course I will have the usual daily duties being a mom and wife and daughter, and some days are more filled than others, but today . . . I think I have nothing urgently calling for my attention.  Yipeee!!! 

On a good day I will hear my son moving around getting ready to go to his classes.  Oddly, I don't actually hear him and wake up.  I just instinctively wake up when I DON'T hear him moving around.  I look at the clock and realize he isn't up and go rouse him from his sweet dreams. Somehow my mom gene takes over and wakes me when it is around the time he should be up and moving. Isn't it amazing how the brain works?  He is not a morning person, and neither am I.  He is in college now, and after finishing off his last year of college he will hopefully get a nice job that pays well and that has a 2nd shift.  I worry that I will have to call him every morning for the rest of my life to wake him up when he moves out.  

On a good day I physically feel well, or at least not too bad.  The usual minor aches and pains don't get me discouraged anymore, just a part of life I guess.  On the rare occasion when I wake up feeling pretty darn good, in combination with a day I might have some free time -  I declare it to be an official "Today Is Whatever The Heck I Want To Do Day".  I try to squeeze these special days in every once in a while, especially after a long string of those other days. You know what I mean - those busy, tiring, stressful days that unfortunately occur quite often. 

I start off with my prayers as I am still in bed, and continue with them as I get up and fill my teapot with water.  I make my bed and put on my oh-so-comfy sweats that my family would love to burn.  I head back into the kitchen to pour the steaming water into my mocha chocolate-french vanilla cappuccino mix and take in the heavenly smell.  Mmmmmm.   So far, so good.

Yes, this day would be a PERFECT  "Today Is Whatever The Heck I Want To Do Day. "   I must decide what I will do.  I am pretty sure it will involve some sewing or at least craft or sewing related activities.  That usually translates into shopping for these activities, like a fabric store or quilt shop.  I will gather my sales ads and coupons as I enjoy my 2nd cup of coffee and put them into the back seat of the car so I won't forget them.  Have you ever been shopping and realized your sales ad was still waiting for you at home, sitting in the mudroom or on the kitchen counter?   Yikes!!!

I plan my little trip out in my mind.  Most of the places are in the next town, all within a couple miles of each other.  I believe I will start off here at the local yarn shop, then go into the next town and visit the quilt shop.  Then I will stop at the antique mall. After that I will visit Michael's and Hobby Lobby. Then Joann Fabrics.  I love looking at all the quilt and crochet books.  I'll probably pick one up too because I have a 50% coupon.   I will eventually  end up at Barnes and Noble.  I will start off by grabbing an armful of the newest magazines, usually a mix of craft and baking and decorating magazines.   I'll get a cup of something yummy, like a hot chocolate with a shot of peppermint. I'll stand before the glass windows peering into the beautiful display of baked goods and select whatever looks best to me - regardless of the calories! I'll choose a nice comfy overstuffed chair or pick a table next to a window with the afternoon sunlight streaming through.   I'll sit for an hour pouring over the magazines.  This sounds like a lovely day to me,  I better get going!

I quickly throw a load in the washer and hop into the shower.  A bowl of cereal, a little makeup, some electric curlers, a big, over-sized comfy sweatshirt and my favorite jeans.  Throw the load into the dryer, run the dishwasher. Gather the eggs and give the chickens fresh food and water.  Food and fresh water for my little dog Sophie.  I'm outta here!

I hop into my car, Diet Coke all ready for me with one of my favorite bendy straws, and a backup can of pop waiting for the ride home.  I turn on the radio and start humming along.  Wait -  am I hearing Christmas music???!!!  Yaaaay!  Woohoo!!! Now don't all of you throw up.  I know some people just hate it, or at least don't like hearing quite so much of it.  I  love it!  I actually have about ten Christmas CDs which I listen to all year long.  Go ahead and laugh, I don't mind.  I just love Christmas music.  It is usually Bing or the Andrews Sisters, or Bing sings Christmas with the Andrews Sisters.  (No, I am not kidding) :)  I even have Burl Ives. . . and the Time Life Christmas Treasury, a two pack!  Woohoo! Yes - I realize I am a dork! But remember . . . He sees you when you sleeping,  he knows when you're awake.  He knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness sake!

 As I begin my little journey I will lose myself in the pretty views. I always take the scenic country roads with the farms and open land. I sigh deeply as I tell myself I should be living on a farm. I think the fact that I spent a lot of time on farms as a child visiting southern relatives really influenced me.  I honestly feel my body relax and my mood improve when I am driving down a country road. I take in the beautiful open land dotted with red barns and pristine white farm houses with wrap-around porches. I try to memorize these  wonderful scenes, safely tucking them away to recall at another time.

 I sip my beloved Diet Coke, my only bad habit left next to overspending on fabric, and sing loudly along with the music. I feel the excitement building about all the beautiful things I will see today that I have ALWAYS wanted and just CANNOT live without that I never even knew existed.  Please tell me you know what I mean!! The excitement builds as I wonder what treasures will be waiting for me.  Who knows what wonderful things I will see today?  I will also be thinking that I am really glad there isn't a dashboard camera filming what a nut I must look like singing along to Mr. Grinch and Jingle Bell Rock.   All thoughts of housework, chicken coops and  flower beds not yet cleaned out are long gone. 

As you can imagine I will lose all track of time, and might not even get to all the stops I had planned, but I usually end up at Barnes and Noble.  The ticking clock will remind me that this wonderful adventure must come to an end. I will gather all my magazines and put them back.  I really need to get home.  Well, just one quick peek into the craft department . . . there might be new books.  A half hour later I usually walk out with either a magazine I couldn't part with or a book I just didn't have time to really look through, and head to my car.  Thoughts of home and all the things I need to do or should have done are trying to take over my brain, but I won't let them . . . yet.

One half hour drive home . . . 27 minutes to be exact if the traffic is good . . . and I am smiling and singing along to the Christmas music.  Life is good.  

Tomorrow will be another day, God willing.  I will deal with tomorrow tomorrow. Right now, I will continue to tuck away all the memories of my wonderful little adventure into the back of my mind to bring forth when I need a little boost.  I  look forward to another day like this.

 My wish for you, my dear friends, is that you also have some special days.  We all spend so much time taking care of everyone else that we forget about ourselves.  When is the last time you took a bubble bath?  Or spent hours wandering around in your favorite store or mall?  Or had an free afternoon to spend sewing or knitting or painting or reading or baking?  Do you ever just feel happy and content and find yourself humming and realizing that life is good?   Why is it we put ourselves on the bottom of the list?  Don't we need to take care of ourselves so we can be there to take care of everyone and everything else? 

 I want you to pencil in on the calendar a day or so that says "Today Is Whatever The Heck I Want To Do Day".  Did you realize this is a nationally recognized holiday,  and you need to be politically correct and observe this day? (Well not really but whatever!)  Please observe this day several times a year, maybe monthly.  Your loved ones want you to be happy too.  We don't have to be martyrs.  Take a day whenever you need one, or whenever you can pull it off.   Please enjoy it and let me know how you spent your special day!

P.S.  Many thanks to my friend Meri for all the darling images.  Do stop by and visit her blog, you will love it!   imagimeris.blogspot.com/

Farewell Ethel

Well, I'm sorry to bring you sad news.  I had to say goodbye to a dear friend, Ethel.  She was such a sweet little thing.  Short, stout, kind of an Aunt Bea looking type.  Sweet just isn't enough to describe Ethel.  She is one of those dear souls that wouldn't harm a fly. Ethel  just loves everyone.  She always made me feel special. When Ethel saw me she would jump up and come to greet me, so obviously happy to see me.

You may be wondering why Ethel had to leave.  For some reason the other girls were just not getting along with her.  Out of the blue, after a year and a half, Ina decided she didn't like Ethel.  Then, one by one, the others joined along.  First Ida, then Lucy, then Millie and Minnie, Fannie, Clara, and finally  Lilly. Eventually the bullying got worse. It was so hard to watch - Ethel just trying to join in and the others really obviously not accepting her.  It actually got violent. This makes me so sad.  I just don't understand why some are just not valued by others.  . .  why some get bullied . . .and why some are bullies. 

As a child I was often bullied. While walking home from elementary school, I was actually hit and pushed to the ground by a mean little boy.  This lasted for several months, and then I guess he just got bored with it.  There were a couple other mean little boys that would occasionally torment me, chasing me, kicking me.  I can't tell you why.  Looking back, I can't imagine why a parent or teacher on the playground never noticed it.  Oddly, I never told my parents.  I guess by then I felt so badly about myself that it didn't occur to me that I shouldn't have to put up with it.  
The girls were mean in another way - by not accepting me and by making fun of me.  I was a tiny child, very sensitive and easy to intimidate and pick on.  Isn't that the way it always goes?  The little ones always seem to get picked on. And please allow me to add in an afterthought here, my friend Meri points out that not only the little ones get picked on, the big kids get picked on too, and many other kids who are different are easy targets.  Her comment brought to mind another sad little girl that used to wander the playground alone.  She was quite chubby, and very shy.  I did try talking to her a few times but she would turn away. Sad but true. Just now remembering her and the sad look in her beautiful blue eyes breaks my heart.  

I really didn't like school at all.  I didn't mind the actual classroom part, but recess was really lonely.   I would wander around and try to join in on games with the other children, but they had their little groups and I wasn't welcome.  I guess I was a little different than them.  I remember for weeks watching the girls in my class playing with the jumprope. Not just the ordinary jumprope but the really long one, the double dutch jump rope.  I wanted so badly to try, but was never included.   I mentioned this to my mom, and a few days later there was a bright pink with yellow handles double dutch jumprope on the kitchen table when I got home from school.  I was so excited!!!!  Now for sure they would play with me.  I could barely sleep that night I was so excited.  The next day I carefully packed my jumprope along with my bag lunch.  Sitting in the classroom, I  stared at the clock all morning, willing the hands of the clock to move a bit faster.  After what felt like an eternity the bell rang  and it was time for recess.   I rushed outside with my new jumprope and stood in the spot where the other girls normally played.  It didn't take long for me to figure out that nobody was really interested in joining me.  The same group of girls gathered together, just like every other day.  After a few minutes I just folded it up a few times and jumped by myself.  At lunch recess I tried again, with no luck. By afternoon recess with nobody to jump with I just sat on the school steps and waited for the bell to ring.  I was so sad.   When I think back I just wish I would have been bolder and asked people from a different grade to jump with me. I'm sure there were a few lost souls like me wandering around.  I wish I would have gathered them all together and we could have played together.

I wasn't your typical cutesy little girl.  I had long, unruly, wavy locks, thick glasses, and didn't really care all that much about my appearance.  I was a tomboy to be sure.  Playing with dolls was not my idea of fun.  I would much rather climb trees or play football.  I do think the fact that there were a million boys on the block and very few girls had something to do with it.  I was also sandwiched  between two brothers, each of us two years apart.  My sister came along six years after me, but she was really much younger.   That was back when large families were the norm, and I'm telling you that block must have had a hundred kids on it.  Mostly boys, and a few girls with . . . you guessed it . . . . Barbie dolls.   
As I got a little older, the boys were getting so much bigger than me that playing football and the rough and tumble games boys play was not really a good idea anymore. Even though I would still join in on Kick The Can and 'Round The Moon at night, little by little I withdrew into myself and found ways to amuse myself.  I think right around then is when I realized I like doing things with my hands.  My grandma taught me to knit and I enjoyed it.  I liked to color and draw.  I recall putting a piece of paper over a leaf and rubbing a  crayon back and forth and getting a tracing of the leaf.  I also read a lot as a child.  I would ride my bike the mile and a half to the local library and spend hours going through the books. As I parked my bike in the metal bike rack, (remember those?) and walked up the cement steps into the red brick building I felt I was no longer alone, the outcast, because within these walls I had more friends that I could count - Laura Ingalls Wilder, the Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, and countless others.  I can still remember the smell of the library. I would get as many books as I could fit in my bike basket each week. On the ride home I always rode down the street paved with red bricks.  I would sing aloud and hear my voice vibrate as I drove over the bricks.  
Once home, I carried my huge stack of books upstairs and  opened the door to the balcony outside my bedroom. The huge maple tree in the front yard would provide shade, and I could watch the world go by unnoticed.  I spent so many wonderful  hours out there reading the afternoon away, writing poetry, daydreaming of the many adventures I would surely have as I grew up.  I remember getting a little certificate, a summer book club award for reading such a huge amount of books.  At night I would sneak a book under the covers with a little flashlight, keeping one ear uncovered so I could hear my mother coming upstairs to tell me to stop reading and go to sleep.

No, I didn't really have any friends to play with, but my life was full of little adventures.   I would climb trees, ride my bike, swim in our little backyard pool, rake leaves into a huge pile, make snowmen and snow angels, all the typical things children will do.  Just with my siblings instead of friends.  There were always tons of kids nearby since we had a family of 7 children right next door, so who needed friends anyhow?  Weekends I would spend with my grandma and grandad.  Talk about feeling loved, right?  My grandad passed very young unexpectedly, and after that I spent as much time as I could with my grandma, who missed him so.  I spent a great deal of my summers there with her after his passing.  I didn't want her to be alone.

As an adult, I find I spend most of my time with my family, and any spare time keeping myself busy with my crafts.  I guess that is where I feel the safest and happiest.   Of course we had the sibling rivalry at home growing up, but  I never had the feeling of not being good enough or different.  Lucky for me I had a wonderful family and I have many wonderful childhood memories to offset the sad ones.


Back to Ethel.  I don't know if you might have figured it out yet, but Ethel is a chicken.  A Salmon Faverolle to be exact.  I did lots of research before picking out the breeds of chickens I would purchase. My top priority was for them to be very docile and calm and quiet.  I didn't want noisy chickens since I'm technically a "chicken outlaw" and not zoned to have them, and I didn't want aggressive chickens, since I would be scared to handle them.  Ethel was such a sweet little thing.  In my research I remember the description for her breed noting that in a mixed flock this bird often gets picked on because they are so docile. Since all the other breeds I picked out were supposed to be especially calm and nonaggressive, I didn't think this would be a problem.  

Watching Ethel get bullied was so difficult for me.  It upset my husband too. He's another one of those sensitive ones. It probably would be hard for anyone to watch.  I guess I am the defender of the underdogs, the protector of all things too weak and small to stand up for themselves.  Because I lived through the bullying I never forgot how it feels. Looking on the bright side, I do think it made me a better person.  By some crazy twist of fate, I actually made the cheerleading squad in high school.  At that point the bullying was over and I was instantly in the "in" crowd.  Walking down the halls of the high school I would look at the faces of some of the other girls passing by and recognize the look of wishing to fit in with the crowd, wanting to belong, longing to be popular.   I made a point of always saying hello to people by name, especially the ones that weren't considered to be the most attractive or talented or popular.  Seeing someone's face light up because a "popular" girl actually singled her out from the crowd and said hi to her and called her by name made me feel really good.  I knew how happy I would have felt to have someone treat me like I mattered.  I ended up being friends with a lot of the girls, cheerleaders and non cheerleaders, but my two best friends throughout high school were girls who were not "popular", but just really nice girls.  My high school was pretty big, our senior class had around 700 graduates, so there were actually many different "popular" groups - band, sports, art, drama, etc. It was easy to find a place you kind of fit into, but it was also easy to get lost in the crowd.


I guess Ethel and I are just a different breed.  I am certain there are more of us out there.  I know it to be true, because I have met many of you. We love deeply, we are compassionate and sensitive, and only want to be loved. It must be genetic, because my children seem to have the same trait.  Each of them is sensitive and very kind, and would never hurt someone else. They are the ones who say "Thank you" to the speaker on the fast food drive through, and smile at the bank teller and ask how they are doing. They tell me they love me each time we end a phone call even if we talk every single day. I am so lucky.  I have three boys and one girl. One granddaughter and two grandsons.  I am so proud of my kids, they are such wonderful people, each of them, and I am so blessed to have them as my family. And, as before, when I am with family I feel accepted, and loved.  I think this is why I wanted a large family, and other than being a teacher my only wish in life was to be a mom and housewife. I never did finish my college education, but I was a teacher in more ways than one! 

My youngest son actually took on the role of playground protector and stood up to the bullies who would try to pick on the weakest kids at school.  I was so happy when he would tell me about it because I knew he just couldn't stand by and watch someone get bullied. My heart would swell with pride and gratification that my children were not the "bullies", and also not the "bullied".

I made a temporary home for Ethel in the shed at night and let her run loose during the day while the others were in the pen. It was double cleaning, double feeding, and just plain double work, but I was determined to keep her safe.  And happy.  She got extra treats.  I would get her out early in the morning and she got to run loose around the back yard all day while the other girls  watched enviously from within the fenced in area.  I can't tell you how many times I would let them know how displeased I was with them and throw the little remark out to them, "Well, that's what you get for being mean". The saddest thing for me was during the day going back to check on her.  I did this several times daily to make sure she had enough food and water, and to make sure she was alright. We had a fenced in area in the backyard for the chickens, right next to the coop, to keep them safe from predators. Every time I went back to check on her, there she was, peering in at all the other girls, obviously wanting to be in there with them.  She would just stand or sit right next to the fence, getting as close as she could to her "friends", even though when she was allowed to mingle they would again bully her.   It was so pathetic.  It almost made me cry.  I would go pull some lettuce from the garden and give her a huge pile to eat and throw a little in for the girls, but I was still mad at them. I know they are just chickens and maybe this is more instinctual than anything, but it was still sad.

Eventually a friend offered to take Ethel.  She just bought a new batch of young chickens, and we were hopeful that the little chickens would be intimidated by Ethel's fluffy chubby little body and look up to her as a leader, not someone to bully. A mother hen, if you will.


I don't want to end this on a sad note, so let me say that throughout the years I have met some wonderful, kind, sweet people, both through my blog and in the "real world", and my faith in human nature has somewhat been restored.  My husband is one of those kind-hearted people who would never hurt someone.  I am very lucky to have met these wonderful people, and some of you are reading this right now.

Sadly, if I am asked if I was one of the popular ones, I would probably have to answer no.  I can still relate to the outcasts, the unpopular, the unattractive. I was one of them.  Nobody likes to get picked on . . . we all just want to be loved.  

My hope is that all of the people who feel unloved will have love,  those without friends will find friendship, and those who are certain they will never be good enough will know that they always have been good enough . . . all along.  


P.S.  I never did learn to jump double dutch.

 

Handmade

Does anyone out there remember using a handmade washcloth? Do you recall the colorful, soft cotton washcloths that Grandma or Mom or Aunt Betty would knit? They were so popular. Not only were they pretty, but they were fun and inexpensive to make - and maybe, just maybe, the dreary job of washing dishes might be just a little more pleasant. 
I actually enjoy washing dishes by hand. The soap smells so nice and the warm water feels so good. And who doesn't love bubbles? Now, throw in a colorful handmade washcloth and I'm actually having fun! I don't limit them to the kitchen. I use them to wash my makeup off at night and in the shower too! The next time you wash your face, try using one of these. I do believe you will be converted and will not want to use anything else. They are soooooo soft. They feel wonderful on your skin. I'm guessing many of you remember these - and maybe some of you still use them. They last forever!!  I love my washcloths.  They just cheer me up.  I put a little vintage into my modern world every time I use one.
The next time you are washing dishes with an old time "warshrag" as my dad and grandma would say, let your mind wander and allow yourself to go back to a time long ago. I'm picturing a family sitting outside on the front porch, relaxing together after the supper dishes were washed. I can almost smell the blooms of the lilac bush now.  Mom and Dad are sitting on the porch swing enjoying the breeze. The frosty glass pitcher of pink lemonade is ready for anyone who cares to wet his whistle. Granddad rocks in the old wooden rocking chair lighting up his pipe. Brother and sister are perched on the steps of the front porch, ready to visit with neighbors and friends passing by. Uncle Joe throws a stick for the beloved family mutt to chase and bring back, over and over again.  Little brother runs around the front lawn with a Mason jar, impatiently waiting for dusk to arrive so he can catch fireflies.  Now, of course, when the warm summer breezes would bid a fond farewell and old man winter started sending those chilly north winds, everyone had to leave the  porch and gather in the front room around the fireplace. The smell of the burning oak and the beautiful glow of the fire drew everyone near. They stayed warm and toasty from the heat of the blazing embers. Sipping homemade cocoa and toasting marshmallows, they enjoyed listening to the old time radio shows.  It seems to me people did sit and relax a bit more.  They were probably exhausted from doing the day's chores, and most likely had no extra money to do anything else anyhow. Cooking and cleaning and laundry took a lot longer back then without all of today's modern marvels, the appliances that make our lives easier.  It was a very common thing to see women doing handwork. Some women quilted, some did mending or embroidery, some crocheted, and some knitted. It was relaxing, yet productive, and was a pleasant way to pass the time. I always wish I was born one generation back.  Yes, maybe my time here on earth might be done or nearing the end, but oh, to have experienced the simpler, more innocent times our previous generations lived.

About ten years ago, while visiting my husband's parents, my mother-in-law brought out her knitting basket.  It was filled with several knitted washcloths, knitting needles, crochet hooks, and yarn. I was so darn excited when I saw that old basket; she might as well have brought out a pot of gold. I jumped up off the couch and ran over to her and told her how much I loved those knitted washcloths. I also told her I would love to learn to knit one. She let me pick one to take home, and told me she would gladly show me how to do it. I tried not to appear overly excited and not be too much of a dork, which I am. I really mean that - some people are computer geeks, I am a craft geek. If she knew how excited I was about learning to knit a washcloth she would probably have been concerned. I do try to act normal when I'm around my husband's side of the family, for his sake.  I'm like a craft/handwork junkie or addict. Perhaps I should start a support group. I have a feeling I wouldn't be alone! I just love making things with my own two hands, and I really value things that have been handmade. I get so excited when I master a new skill or learn about a new craft. It's like winning a lottery to me! Some people read or watch tv in their spare time. I make things. I might sit on the porch and rock, or watch tv, but usually I will be doing some kind of handwork at the same time.

My grandma taught me how to do a basic cast on, knit, and purl stitch. She also taught me to sew on her old black Singer sewing machine. The woman was a saint. Very patient. I don't think she ever taught me how to bind off; I guess I just kept on knitting all the time. I don't recall ever actually finishing anything or making a project; just practicing the stitches. Every time I knit I can hear her telling me "Not so tight!" as apparently I was holding the yarn too tightly and was having trouble knitting the stitches. Last year I took a knitting class for some rather fancy gloves, with a decorative cable running down the front. It didn't go well. I just can't follow patterns. I think I have attention deficit disorder - I have a hard time staying focused for very long. The instructor would walk around and check our progress and told me that I knit very loosely.  She claimed knitting tension  was supposed to be an indication of the knitter's personality, and that I must be a really laid back, relaxed person. I almost spit out my coffee laughing as she said it -  I can't sit still very long unless I am doing something . . . like knitting or crochet.  I explained to the knitting instructor that I have never been accused of being laid back before, and that I was certain my loose knitting was due to my beloved grandma's voice in my head telling me not to knit so tightly. I miss my grandma. She was so cute. A little southern lady from Kentucky.

Anyhow, back to the story.  My mother-in-law, Lucille, explained this VERY SIMPLE, VERY BASIC washcloth pattern step by step, and said it was really easy and that I would have no trouble with it.  I watched her as she showed the steps, and tried to memorize it.  By the time I got home I had completely forgotten it.  I actually didn't quite understand it anyhow. I decided I would just knit washcloths the only way I knew how.  My way. Straight knitting in the shape of a square. Nothing to think about or remember. It was easier, still fun and relaxing, and they turned out fine.  Just without the pretty edge. Actually I have made a lot of really nice scarves the same way, only longer. Now don't laugh, they were fine, and warm. I like that homemade look anyhow.  

A few years later I was searching on the internet for knitting info, and what do you know?  All kinds of patterns and tutorials.  Let me encourage all of you, even those who don't know how to knit, to just Google "how to knit" and watch some of the many tutorials.  I have found Planet Purl to have many excellent ones, and I will refer you to some of those with this pattern. You can watch them over and over and over until it sinks in, and it is so much easier than trying to learn it from a book. If you don't have a grandma or mom or aunt to teach you, don't worry. If you are interested enough in it to really try to learn, then you will learn and you will love it. I promise.  Visit Planet Purl, and on the home page click on "How to videos" and see what you might be interested in. There are tons of other sites to visit, but this is a good place to start. 

For this washcloth, I'll give you the supplies needed and the basic pattern. Then I'll try to talk you through it for those of you who are challenged like yours truly.

You will need knitting needles.  I use size 8.  I love the bamboo ones, they feel so good in my hands. Some people love the aluminum ones. I do like the little clicky sound they make when I knit. Have you ever seen the short  knitting needles that are connected with a plastic cord between them?  Well, it turns out they are for knitting in the round, like a tube. I bought some once when I thought I could knit socks.  Well, I never did make the socks, but I found out those needles are wonderful!  Since the actual needles are shorter than the regular needle length they are easier to hold in your lap.  I even can use them when I am lying reclined on the couch without the ends poking me in the stomach!   I love them.  That is all I use now. I have two sets.  Both are the bamboo size 8, one is the shortest cord possible (approximately 9 inches), and the next set is a slightly longer cord, (approximately 18 inches). The way these work is when you are knitting and you have too many stitches on the needle the extra stitches just overflow onto the cord.   So if you are knitting a huge sweater or afghan or something where there is too much knitted material to fit onto the needles, the cord holds the stitches.  Ingenious!! Either way, I love the way they fit into my hands, and I am not constantly dropping a needle between the couch cushions or on the floor.  Seriously try them.  Click here and here for more info about circular needles.  

You can do just plain old regular knitting on these needles, you don't have to knit in the round. As I mentioned earlier, the actual needles are a little shorter than normal needles, which make them so portable and easy to hold. Each size needle comes with different sizes of the cord; the size of your project will determine which size you need.  If you are making a huge afghan you need to buy a needle with a longer cord to hold all the stitches.  I use the needles with the shortest cord at the beginning and end of the washcloth.  When I get to the middle of the washcloth I switch over to the size 8 with the 18" cord.  Those needles are just the right size to hold all the stitches of the washcloth.  The only reason I don't use the needle with this size cord throughout the entire washcloth is that the longer cord is great when I need it, but I don't like having in my way when I don't.  But, the combination of the two works great for me.  I am a little fusspot though, I don't like to be bothered.  My knitting is my therapy.  I actually get into a sort of a rhythm, and if I have to stop to adjust my knitting onto the needle from the cord, or move the longer cord out of the way it annoys me.  Like I said, I'm fussy.  Just sayin'.

Now for the fun part. Go shopping for yarn!! Pick up some beautiful cotton yarn in your favorite color.  Lily makes Sugar 'N Cream yarn which is perfect, very inexpensive (less than two dollars) and comes in so many beautiful colors you will have a hard time choosing.  You can find this yarn in any store that carries yarns; JoAnn Fabrics, Michaels, Hobby Lobby, and even WalMart carry this brand.  You can also find many beautiful, soft yarns in many color choices at your local yarn store. Just be prepared to pay a bit more.  Keep in mind that if we don't patronize our local yarn and quilt shops they can't stay in business and the larger chain stores will be our only option, and that would be sad. I would miss being able to walk into my local shops and visit and get help with my projects. The selection and quality of these goods is way better than in the chain stores, and you can't put a dollar amount on the friendships and good times you will surely enjoy. If you are new at this, maybe for your first try get the Sugar 'N Cream.  But, DO visit your local yarn store and support the store. You will be amazed at how many beautiful yarns there are that you would NEVER see in a chain store.  Talk to the owner and instructors, meet some new friends that have a common interest, take a class or a field trip with a group. You'll have so much fun!!! 

Pattern:  For the experienced knitters, here is the basic pattern.
Cast on 4.  
Row 1: Knit four.
Row 2:   Knit 2, yarn over, knit to end of row.  
Continue in this pattern until you have 45 stitches on needle.
Next row:  Knit 1, knit 2 together, yarn over, knit 2 together, knit to end of row. Continue in this pattern until you have four stitches left. Bind off.

So, now for the beginners. I am going to give you links for tutorials for all the steps. These are excellent tutorials from Planet Purl. Remember to turn up the volume so you can hear the instructions. It is just like having a friend sitting down with you showing you. Keep in mind you don't have to sit through the entire tutorial, you can slide the little bar on the bottom to fast forward through the very beginning if you want. I usually listen at least once to the whole thing because there is always something new to learn! This washcloth starts out at one corner.  As you increase you get wider until you get to the middle of the washcloth, where you will have 45 stitches.  Then you start the decrease and you go back down to 4 stitches.  

Pattern for beginners:

Make a slip knot. Click here for tutorial.

Cast on 3 more stitches. Click here for a tutorial. This is a really quick and easy cast on.  There are many different ways of doing it, this is the way I was taught. You now have a total of 4 stitches on the needle. The slip knot counts as one, your three cast on loops are the remaining 3.   See, I told you this wasn't hard. I do want to remind you about the voices in my head.  I can still hear my grandmother saying "Not so tight!"  If you pull the yarn too tightly around the needle, especially on the cast on row, it is harder than blazes to knit the first row.  So chill. Lighten up, no death grips please. I think at this point you should maybe go pour a beverage. Relax.  Maybe some chocolate too.   I know you can do it.

Next step: Knit 4. Click here for a tutorial. You will knit all four stitches in this first row.  Remember this row is kind of the hardest since the cast on loops are always a little snug.  I was going to try to explain the knit stitch, but this little video tutorial is so good I am just going to hand it over to her. Honestly there are so many informational videos and tutorials, and even several Learn To Knit CD's you can buy at the craft store (which I did many years ago by the way, since I am a very basic knitter). Every little bit of info helps.  Now you can find it all online, but when I bought the Learn To Knit CD many years ago the online tutorials weren't available. Even better, you could visit your local yarn store.  They are beautiful shops, filled with wonderful people who want to help you and want you to love to knit!

Did you do it?  That wasn't hard, right?  Once you have the knit stitch down you are there.  I promise. So all you beginners put down your needles and applaud yourself.  I know I am silly, but I get so excited about learning something new.

Ok, next row. Knit two stitches, then do a yarn over (otherwise known as YO). Click here for a tutorial. Then knit the remaining two stitches. You now have five stitches on the needle. 

Knit the next row in the same manner; knit 2, yarn over, and knit to the end of the row.  You now have six stitches on the needle.  Keep going in this pattern until you have 45 stitches on the needle. If you want a bigger washcloth you can keep going, 50 or 55 stitches. . . it's your washcloth . . . whatever you want.  If you stop at 45 stitches the washcloth should measure around 8" square.  Some end up a little smaller, some a littler larger, depending on the tension and the yarn used.

Now we decrease, using a method called knit two together (otherwise known as K2T). Exactly like it sounds, simply knitting two stitches together. For tutorial click here. Starting with this row, you knit one stitch, knit the next two stitches together, yarn over, then knit two together. Then knit the rest of the stitches to the end of the row. I know this sounds kind of counter-productive, but trust me.

Next row, same thing. Knit one, knit two together, yarn over, knit two together, knit the rest of the row. Keep doing this every row till you get down to four stitches.

Last row, the binding off row. Not sure how to bind off stitches? So easy you won't believe it. Click here for a tutorial.

You did it. You're done. I'll bet you are smiling and very pleased with yourself. Well you should be!! You did a great job. I knew you could do it. I'm so excited. Send me pictures. Seriously. Ric Rac and Polka Dots has a facebook page. Click here here to visit. Please share with us.

Is there anything nicer than a handmade washcloth? I think not. Of course unless it is a crocheted washcloth, which I also love. If anyone is interested I would be happy to put up a pattern for that also. It only takes a couple hours to make one, but the years of enjoyment are countless. I take care of my mom, who is homebound and not able to do many of the things she used to do for herself, and every time I give her a shower and use one of my washcloths she always comments on how much she loves them. They are so soft and so pretty. I have crocheted an edge on one of hers and I must admit that each time we use it I admire how pretty it is. I have decided to have nothing but handmade washcloths in my home. Using one of these is like taking a trip back in time. I think of all the moms and grandmothers who would sit and knit these and share them with family and friends. I hope that those of you who are lucky enough to have been given one of these little gems really appreciates them for what they are, a gift from the heart.

I do realize that some of you have absolutely no desire to knit or crochet a washcloth, so I have decided to put some of my extras into my Etsy shop. They are nothing fancy, just a soft, sweet, made with love washcloth that needs someone to love them. If anyone actually buys them it will be a good reason to keep on knitting. I will try to keep the price very reasonable for those of you who are not able to make one for yourself but would love to have one. 

I would like to send many thanks to my friend Meri at ImagiMeri's for the wonderful graphics. Do visit her blog, you'll love it!  Click here to visit Meri.
 
I would be really happy if you are inspired by this post to try making a washcloth. I have heard from some of you who are going to try it.  I really enjoy making them.  It must be genetic, because my dad even knew how to knit and I have a scarf he made - nothing fancy, just straight knitting. I love and treasure that scarf.  Every time I see it I think of him. I hope you love making them and that you love your washcloths. I also hope you will consider sharing them with your friends and family. I give them as gifts, usually a set of three coordinating colors with a beautiful ribbon tied around them. I usually include a bar of homemade soap purchased at craft shows.  You could also include a favorite body wash or lotion.  They make wonderful baby gifts, so soft for that delicate skin. Whoever the recipient, they absolutely love them . . . which makes me very happy.