Stitch It To The Man

Do you curse?

Some people don't, and I respect that. I, on the other hand, enjoy a well-placed, well-timed "bad f-word," even if it's only in my head because Wyatt's around. Strictly speaking, curse words aren't necessary, but neither is cheese, chocolate, or whiskey.

The subject of cursing brings me to my latest pattern: Stitch It To The Man. It's my tenth published pattern and last pattern for 2017. All three of the designs in the pattern—from clean to full-on curse—came together easily for me, and I finished knitting the sample quickly. But then I got stuck. I couldn't, for the life of me, name this pattern. Even worse, I could only write terrible, stilted descriptions of it. Good thing I have clever, irreverent, and generous friends. My high school friend, Molly, and her oldest daughter (both in Massachusetts) named the pattern. Isn't it perfect? Once the pattern had a name, Sarah (in South Carolina) wrote the best blurb ever:

Let’s work together to dismantle white supremacy. With delicate snowflakes and a gut punch of solidarity, this beanie roars the message you choose: “end white supremacy” for your grandmother, and “fuck white supremacy” for your daughter. Choose a character mark for a whiff of mystery, or pick a vowel to make your point loud and proud. Suggestions for customizing the ribbing band are also included.

We’re serious. This privilege absurdity needs to end. 100% of proceeds for this pattern are donated monthly to the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI).

And then? My editor (in Texas) decided to charge me exactly zero dollars to work on this project.

I love all the generosity that went into this hat. And I love how this project, thanks to all five of us, spans so much of the United States.

Of course, the proceeds are going to the Equal Justice Initiative (in Alabama):

The Equal Justice Initiative is committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.

While I was knitting the sample for this pattern, I listened to Bryan Stevenson's book, Just Mercy. I won't try to describe the book here, but I will say it's an absolutely essential read, and it is the reason why I chose to support EJI with this project.

I'd love to count you as a collaborator on Stitch It To The Man. Whether you're a knitter or a friend of a knitter, you can buy the pattern here.

Other books I've been reading while working on this project are: Michael W. Twitty's The Cooking Gene, and Rivers Solomon's  An Unkindness of Ghosts. Both of these incredible books are written by authors of color, and they address in their own distinct and riveting ways how truly critical it is to end, f*ck, or fuck white supremacy. Read these two books, too. Or give them as holiday gifts. Or both!

That's right: it's the holidays. This weekend, we decorated the Christmas tree, in and around doing about a zillion other things. And I finally used the butternut squash that arrived in our CSA box during the week of Thanksgiving. I made soup with a recipe that went as far away from sweet butternut squash flavor as I could find: Butternut Squash and Tomato Soup. I'm pleased to report it is a new family favorite. All three of us happily ate it two days in a row (it's gone now, or we'd still be enjoying it), and that never happens with squash soup. I served the soup with a kale Caesar salad. This Caesar vinaigrette is the best. And don't roll your eyes when I tell you that you need to massage the kale before you dress it. It only takes five minutes and it makes all the difference. Here's what to do: Once you've washed and stemmed the kale, chop the leaves into salad-sized pieces and put them in a big bowl. Drizzle a little olive oil on the kale, and with your (super clean) hands, squeeze and smoosh the life out of the kale. The volume of leaves will shrink by about 1/3 or 1/2. When you're done with this step, add dressing to your taste, and toss. The salad will keep beautifully for several days in the fridge if you have left-overs. Some good cheese and bread rounded out our plates nicely.

Better and Better

Have you heard? I just published a new pattern. It's called the Do Better Beanie. I've been writing all the social media blurbs for it in a super positive light, because, you know, POSITIVITY. And the messages are totally positive, and I do truly mean them that way.

But I've already started joking with friends who are peeved about, say, being ignored, "It sounds like you might need to borrow Listen Up!" Or say, hypothetically, there's a huge school fundraiser this weekend and parents aren't signing up for shifts (even though they know that have to), thinking they can duck responsibility without being noticed. Wouldn't it be nice to slap them with a Show Up hat? Or maybe you know someone who could use their power and influence to make things better for others, but doesn't. Speak Up for that one! Unfortunately, it's way more practical for me to passive aggressively make a totally insincere offer to lend any of these people the appropriate hat than to actually knit them. Scaling craftivism is tricky, obviously.

You can find the link to the Do Better Beanie here on this site under Designs, or just click directly to my Ravelry shop.

How was your Thanksgiving? Ours was great but weird. Marc came down with a beast of a cold on Thursday morning, so Wyatt and I made our second annual Thanksgiving trip to Sebastopol without him. Not only did Wyatt and I miss having Marc there, so many of my relatives were so disappointed not to see him. They had saved up all these great things to tell him since they last talked a year ago! I think that if you have to skip Thanksgiving, the next best thing is to be genuinely and specifically missed.

Here is a Thanksgiving photo along with photos of  some new-to-us junk sculptures by Patrick Amiot.

Finally, if you're looking for a great recipe for brussels sprouts, check this one out. We made it this weekend. It tastes way better and is much less fussy than the one I have tried from Cook's Illustrated where each sprout half must be placed individually and none of them get much color. Whether you use Minimalist Baker's recipe for dipping sauce or your own, don't skip it unless you want to make Wyatt sad.

Giving and Getting

This is the face of a happy volunteer.

I thought I wasn't the kind of person who needed the attention that comes from appreciation parties. True givers do the work for the sake of the work, not to be celebrated for it. Right?

We've been volunteering in the Presidio for the better part of this year, and last Thursday was the annual Volunteer Appreciation Dinner where the staff throws a terrific party. The staff cook several turkeys, and everyone who attends brings a dish to share. I debated whether Wyatt and I should go. We'd be out late on a school night, and we didn't really need to be appreciated. We'd show up to work next time with or without a party. But parties are fun, and we like to dress up. So we went, and we are so glad we did.

As we drove up to the party, Wyatt noticed another car arriving at the same time and he said, "Hey! I know those people! That's Abby's car. The convertible BMW. It's got to be her." And sure enough, it was her. She was driving, and had given a ride to several other women we know from the garden and nursery. Once we had said hello, Abby asked if we could carry in some of the things she brought to share. Of course we could.

We checked-in, made our name tags, wrote a label for our shared dish (vegan! gluten-free! with nuts!), and then went in to mingle.

The staff had transformed the office into the most festive dining hall, and they were all still hard at work. Rebecca was tending bar, and she made Wyatt's night by mixing him a Unicorn ("Ginger ale, cranberry juice, and as much sparkling water as your mother would like.") Jean made sure we knew to look for the dressing with the gluten-free sign--she made sure they made some special. And Desmond brought us back to what looked like a gift shop and told us we could choose anything we wanted off the table.

Wyatt chose the orange blanket and I opted for a fleece vest that says "Golden Gate National Parks."

Dinner was truly spectacular. Best potluck ever. While we ate and chatted, they played a slide show of photos from previous years' appreciation parties. Wyatt kept spotting people we know, laughing at goofy photos, and trying to figure out where the photos were being projected from. On the drive home, we debated which side we liked the best (it was the dressing, but so many of the salads were close seconds!), discussed why halvah tastes weird (we tried every gluten-free offering on the dessert table), and exclaimed how glad we were that we went.

It was such a good night, and while we didn't need to be fed an amazing dinner, the truth is we kind of did. It felt good. And it reminded me of a Brené Brown quote: “Until we can receive with an open heart, we're never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help."

The dish we made to share was the Brussels Sprouts, Apple, and Pomegranate Salad from Smitten Kitchen. It's fancy (thanks to the pomegranate seeds), fast to prepare, and delicious. I couldn't find any brussels sprouts at the store, so I went with a savoy cabbage instead. It was terrific.

Little Chicken

"Mom. I showed Jim the yellow chicken I knitted and you know what he said? He said he'd give me five dollars for it. Can you even BELIEVE that? He only offered me five dollars. Why did he do that? I worked on it for SO MANY WEEKS. I wouldn't sell it to him for less than...NINETY dollars."

Ah, the value of craft. It warms my knitter's heart that Wyatt fully grasps that crafts take time and energy, and that makers should be compensated well for their work. We will discuss market forces another time. Meanwhile, our neighbor, Jim, will have to hunt for a bargain chicken elsewhere.

This little yellow chicken was Wyatt's first knitting project at school. I (obviously) wasn't there to document the process, but this knitting project is even easier than the bunny. The steps are: (1) knit a square with yellow yarn, (2) sew the square on two sides to make a triangle., but leave a little space for stuffing, (3) stuff the chicken, (4) close the stuffing hole (5) get brown yarn and make one stitch for each eye, (6) get orange yarn and do three stitches for the beak.

Looking at crafts from a time, materials, and skills perspective with a child who understands how long it takes to make things means we start from the idea that handmade things should actually be expensive and possibly out of our price range. It means that when we see amazing things, like this wooden village with a candle-powered propeller that costs a small fortune, our conversation goes something like, "Wow! This village is amazing. Look at all the careful work that they did and all the details. We can't spend that much money, but it is really beautiful."

Crafts, cost and value reminds me of the trivets from last year. We're not working on anything nearly as complicated or time-consuming this year. I don't actually have a plan for homemade gifts yet, but every week that goes by means whatever we do will be that much more simple. We can always make some more paper lanterns.

Speaking of lanterns, over the weekend, we went to the German International School's Lantern Walk. It was lovely! While we were there, Wyatt made a lantern out of half of a plastic container that had holes punched in the side to attach a mini LED on a pipe cleaner and a beaded pipe cleaner handle. Some Elmer's glue, tissue paper, ribbon, and stickers made a beautiful, sturdy, and portable lantern.

I don't have a new recipe to share this week, but we recently tried two new (to us) products! The first is a gluten-free gochu jang from Sinto Gourmet. I've been looking for a gluten-free gochu jang for over a year, and this one is amazing. I found it in the refrigerated section of Whole Foods.

The second thing we tried was Beyond Meat burgers. Two out of the three of us thought they were amazing. I, however, was not a fan. I thought the burgers smelled weird out of the package, cooking did not improve the smell, and I could only eat half of mine.  Neither Marc nor Wyatt noticed the smell and said they'd eat them all the time. The ingredient list, however, is pretty long and sciencey-processed-sounding, so "sometimes" might be a better call than "all the time."

I prepared the burgers according the the package instructions (down to using a thermometer to confirm they reached at least 165 degrees before I served them). We also really did them up fancy with condiments and toppings.

The Cure

"Mom. Don't you love this song? I do. I didn't know it was on this cassette. Did you know that this is The Cure?"

"Yes, I did."

"What's he saying? Boys don't cry? This song is very old. Like back from when people thought boys shouldn't cry, I guess? Mom. You know that boys are tougher than girls, right?"

I laughed, and not a "HA!" laugh, a real legitimate laugh. "No, they're not. I mean, seriously, just for an example, can you name me any man tougher than Harriet Tubman?"

He was quiet.  "No," he finally said, "I can't. But for women, Flo Jo might have been faster than Harriet Tubman."

Happy November, everyone.  In case you couldn't guess, Wyatt and I just finished Rad Women A-Z and we are currently reading Let It Shine: Stories of Black Women Freedom Fighters. We'll be getting back to The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, soon. Meanwhile, I'm really enjoying Wyatt's unlikely comparisons between heroic, strong women.

And in recognition of cold and flu season, as well as everything else that's wearing us down, keeping us up, and demanding our action (I mean, WHERE TO START?), I thought I'd post about what most people used to call Fire Cider, until a company trademarked that name. Now a lot of people call it Master Tonic. A lot of people except, I guess, Kitchn, whose recipe I use. And except for us, at home, in conversation. "Master Tonic" is basically a folk remedy that we drink the moment we feel a throat tickle, have a couple of sneezes, or get that vague run-down-before-a-cold feeling. Marc and Wyatt used to joke that they couldn't sneeze or cough around me or I'd chase them with a shot of it. But now, they come after me with it, too. And as of today, we were into our last bottle, so it was time for another batch.

Some people say it tastes good. We are not liars, and we would never say such a thing. But we do take it. All three of us. It requires a lot of chopping and cutting, and it keeps indefinitely, so I make a triple batch at a time. Fortunately, Wyatt was happy to be my garlic peeler today, and that helped a lot.

We'll shake the jug everyday for the next 4-6 weeks (the time we will wait will depend on whether we run out of our last batch), strain out the solids, and then funnel the liquid into bottles for storing.

It's Halloween: Save the Chubby Unicorns

Happy Halloween! As usual, this year's costume has been underway since the summer. But I only had to make the hat this year. Well, the hat and the oxpecker we attached to the hat. Somehow, the elephant suit I made Wyatt two years ago still fits. This fact is astounding--the pajamas that fit him perfectly six months ago are now, well, very much 3/4 length. The elephant-rhino suit is a Halloween miracle, obviously. And because O-Wool is awesome, it was easy for me to get more matching yarn for the hat.

If you follow me on Instagram here, you will have seen my attempt at a slow reveal of the costume.

And today? It's time to show you the whole costume.

The hat is from this book. And the oxpecker (with which we obviously took artistic liberty) is from this book. The poses are all Wyatt.

I wish you the most magnificent Halloween.

And in case you're looking for some fun cooking inspiration after today (dinner is always a disaster at our house on Halloween, and it makes me feel better to think that the same is true at yours), Gluten Free Girl is doing 100 Days of Making Food. Find her recipes every day on Instagram and Facebook. We made the marvelous dairy-free vegetable gratin over the weekend. It didn't hurt that I got an impressive mortar and pestle for my birthday, and who knew, but we already had someone living with us who loves to grind spices! Our gratin included some sweet potatoes and a celery root, in addition to the vegetables GFG suggested And sure enough, the leftovers were terrific in fritters. Here's GFG's recipe, lifted from her Instagram:

I made a gratin, based loosely on one from @reneeerickson's cookbook. It has an unexpected depth, thanks to the time I spent steeping the coconut milk with a couple of pinches of garam masala. Danny took a bite, looked at me, and stared. "Honey, this is really good." A few more bites, and he said, "We are making this for Thanksgiving." I agree.
5 large russet potatoes, peeled, cut lengthwise, then chopped into quarters
5 large carrots, peeled and cut into 4 pieces
1 13.5 ounce can full-fat coconut millk
1/2 teaspoon garam masala (Kelly's Note: I mostly followed this recipe, but added bay leaves and black cardamom, and omitted coriander because coriander is my kryptonite.)
1 bunch green kale, leaves off the stems, chopped
Heat the oven to 400°. Set a large pot of cold water onto a burner. Add enough kosher salt to make the water taste like the ocean. Add the potatoes and carrots. Turn the burner onto high heat. Let the water come to a boil. Allow the vegetables to cook until a knife slides through the potatoes easily, about 20 minutes. Drain the potatoes and carrots immediately.
As the potatoes and carrots are cooking, put the coconut milk into a small skillet set on low heat. Add the garama masala. Let the coconut milk simmer, in slow surges, and stir it occasionally.
Mash the potatoes and carrots. You're not going for a puree here, but a rough mash, with lumps of each vegetable visible. Add the chopped kale and fold it into the potatoes and carrots. Pile it all into a 9x13 pan.
Drizzle the seasoned coconut milk over the gratin and gently tuck it into the vegetables.
Bake until everything is fully hot and the top is beginning to brown, about 30 minutes.
Feeds 8.
Feel like playing? If you can eat dairy, you can butter the pan before putting in the gratin. You could also cover the top of the gratin with a hard cheese like Parmesan or Gruyere.

If you have leftovers the next morning, stir them up with an egg and a handful of gluten-free breadcrumbs. Make golf-ball size pieces, squash them into cakes, and fry them up.
#100daysofmakingfood

Below are my photos. As if I had to tell you that. So much less impressive than GFG's.

Hooray for Librarians! And "Brownies."

This weekend, I published a new pattern! It's the Librarian Beanie. My friend, Anne, who is a librarian in real life, modeled for me. I have the best friends.

I did not come up with this design all by myself. As I said before, I have the best friends. My friend, Sarah, (who is a librarian and very busy with graduate school, work, life, and raising two little boys) and I were texting a couple of months ago about volunteering, politics, and how there's basically not enough time to resist and connect in all the ways we would like. In a text that might have had a slightest whiff of frustration tinged with exhaustion, she wrote something like, "I don't think I can take on more right now. Also? I'm a librarian. Librarians are f*cking helpful." I about died. Sarah wondered about putting that last sentence on a t-shirt. I offered to knit it into a hat. Around the same time I offered to knit it into a hat, she revised the sentence to read, "Librarians: Helpful AF."  Collaboration at its best, right?

Normally, I design patterns in wool yarn. I love Sincere Sheep's yarn, and I used Equity Fingering in this design. But my friend, Anne, is allergic to wool, and this project seemed like a perfect opportunity try something new. Vegan Yarn seemed like a great choice. I used their Pleiades Sock yarn, which is made of bamboo, cotton and elastic, and dyed with low-impact dyes. If you don't (or your favorite librarian doesn't) do wool, it's a terrific alternative.

So please tell your knitting-library-and-librarian-loving friends about the Librarian Beanie!

Quick totally unrelated question: What are you all doing for breakfast foods lately? We're still into homemade yogurt (lately with sheep's milk, of all things, which is amazing and so mild), and I've also started making a version of this custard, but with roasted sweet potatoes instead of pumpkin. It has been a big hit, but I'm ready for the next great make-ahead idea.

There are also school birthdays coming up where Wyatt will bring-his-own treat, so we made these "brownies" on Sunday, and they're good. I would never mistake them for actual brownies, but as a gluten-free, reasonably healthy bar cookie, we like them a lot. If you make them, do not make the mistake we did and use an immersion blender to mix (is that what they meant by "hand blender?"), because if it's like our immersion blender, it will seriously overheat before you're done mixing. I think a regular mixer would work fine.

I cut the bars and then froze them individually for easy, single servings.

Ikea and Memory

Do you remember the first time you went to Ikea? I do. I was in high school, and I was on a summer exchange program in Oslo, Norway. My Ikea guides were two young Norwegian women who had befriended me and were shopping for furniture for their new apartment. I remember being totally bowled over by the size of Ikea, its blue exterior, the clean lines of all the designs, and how comfortable I felt trying everything out.

My memory of the shopping trip is still so vivid. It made such an impression on me that I thought for sure I had taken photos of it. But I looked back at my album, and there’s no sign of Ikea anywhere. In fact, there’s only one photo of my two friends, and it is of them with their new sofa(?), in a shop that’s not Ikea. I suppose at the time, the photo mattered because they had maybe accomplished their mission. Decades later, though, I can’t help but notice that I was really into taking photos of unremarkable things that were only worthy of forgetting. That is, except for the farty street signs (and you know the photo of the flowers is terrible if you have to label it "flowers.").

The second time I went to Ikea was when I went to college. I was with friends looking for bookshelves when I suddenly realized I had been there before, only in Oslo. I hadn’t bothered to remember “Ikea” because I thought the store was a Scandanavian thing I’d never see again. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Memory is such a funny thing. Some memories are so vivid, some just disappear, and there are the hazy ones where you know you were there because there’s a photo of it. There is also all the science that tells us that every time we retrieve a memory, it changes, so we can’t really trust that we remember everything exactly as it happened. Right? Maybe. But for the purposes of real life, getting hung-up on the very specific details is to miss the bigger picture. I mean, if your boss jerked-off in front of you, his aiming into a potted plant is a good detail, but totally not the point.  I’m so glad that, this week, from my perspective, people seem to be believing more victims’ accounts than usual. As I read all the #MeToo statuses on social media and reflect on my own #MeToo, I realize that I’ve always assumed that every woman I have ever met has been, at the very least, sexually harassed during her life, and likely worse. We’ve all learned to deal with it. “Dealing” takes many forms, including tolerating, ignoring, avoiding, and getting therapy. Consider all that daily effort by so many women, while the perpetrators carry on as usual with the patriarchy’s support. Do you remember the first time you experienced or witnessed harassing behavior? It starts early. I remember in second grade being told to “grow a tougher skin” so the daily, stomach-churning harassment of a boy could continue but wouldn’t bother me. After all, the refrain of the grown-ups was, “Aww. It's fine. He just likes you!” Unchecked, bad behavior of course only gets worse. Like in seventh grade wood shop when the boys would surround me, the only girl, to taunt me with talk and gestures of blow-jobs while the teacher hid in his office. I eventually transferred into an art class. And then there's what we deal with as high schoolers, and as grown-ups. We must raise better boys, and we must also hold accountable the grown-ups who are behaving terribly.

But let me get back to Ikea. Memories of Ikea. And the reality of Ikea today! I hadn’t been to Ikea in years, but we took Wyatt this weekend. As far as I can tell, Ikea has only changed for the better since I was there last. The small living spaces with perfectly arranged, just colorful enough furniture and accessories make me feel like I could totally move in. I mean, there are even clothes hanging in the closets.

We weren’t shopping, but we did buy hangers and dishtowels (I dare you to go to Ikea and buy nothing), and Wyatt got a stubby pencil and catalog as souvenirs. More importantly, though, Wyatt left with context for Catherine Newman's One Mixed-Up Night, which he has now heard twice. I read it to him the first time and Marc the second time. “Didn’t you love it?” I asked Marc. “It’s one of the saddest books I’ve ever read. But yes, it’s great,” he responded. While I didn’t find it that sad, I do understand where Marc’s coming from. No spoilers here, so you’ll have to read and decide for yourself.

This trip to Ikea, I didn’t forget to take photos.

And in further recognition of Catherine Newman's work, and my own need to not spend a moment more in the kitchen than absolutely necessary, we ate nachos for dinner on Sunday. Her nacho cheese sauce is really good. Our somewhat unconventional toppings included tomatoes, chopped fermented dill green beans, hearts of palm, lettuce, pepperoncini, and black beans. Weird salad on chips. With nacho cheese sauce! You know you want to try it.

October Is Here

Mom. I always thought that when they made donut holes instead of donuts, someone cut the middles out of donuts to make the little...round lumps. You know? BUT THEY DON'T.

No, they don't. You can easily have donut holes without the donuts, and vice versa. Mindblowing.

On Monday morning, we revised our plan to hike in the Presidio, because, as you may have heard, the entire state of California is pretty much on fire right now. It's scary and horrible to see the destruction, never mind how the fires are still raging. The smoke is intense even in San Francisco.

Wyatt and I flipped through cookbooks to find a suitable birthday treat for Margaret's Birthday Breakfast for Dinner that evening. We opted for Apple Cider Doughnut (Holes) from Gluten-Free Girl's American Classic's Reinvented. We discussed the risks of trying a new recipe for the occasion and decided to go for it anyway.

After some grocery shopping, we headed downtown to visit our friends who were spending the day at the Contemporary Jewish Museum. We learned from Sukkah Artist in Residence Ari Salomon how to take vertical panoramic photos and he gave us some terrific prints.

As far as the donut holes, I think our batter was too runny. I'm not sure why, because I was really careful about following every instruction meticulously. I mean, I was meticulous to the point of, "This batter looks too runny to form into balls. But I had better leave it alone because what do I know, I've never made this before." Anyway, our apple cider donut holes didn't end up even close to spherical, but you know what? They still tasted amazing. And we all preferred the weird sticky-out pieces because they got crunchier. The stack of about thirty of them made an excellent birthday-cake-mountain, and because they were donut holes, we didn't have to save them for dessert.

The rest of our weekend was full of Northern California October Things that all fell on the same weekend this year: Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Lambtown, and The Blue Angels.

The concert was terrific. It was also more political than in previous years, and it was way more safety-conscious. I guess it's fair to say it was Very 2017. Wyatt learned a few more "bad words" from some of the performers, but he has since forgotten them, and I steadfastly refuse to remind him what they were. In and around great music, we cheered for justice, equality, the end of toxic masculinity, and more. And we even played a few spontaneous and hilariously competitive rounds of Uno with two men seated behind us on the lawn at the Swan Stage. Uno is SUCH a great game. Taking a photo of our card game would have ruined the mood, so I didn't do that. I did, however get one of Wyatt working on some finger knitting while we were there.

Lambtown was also wonderful, as always. We watched young sheep dogs try to herd some sheep, visited with the animals, and saw some incredible fibers, crafts, and artwork. I got to visit with Sincere Sheep and see my Strata cowl styled ever so beautifully in the festival booth.

Wyatt opted for a ticket to the petting zoo over the (tragically circular) pony rides this year. And good thing he did, because there was a puppy section. He snuggled every single one of them multiple times. (Why didn't I pay $5 for my own puppy snuggles? I mean, just LOOK.)

And if that's not enough? When we got home, I canned another batch of fruit butter. This time was roasted pear with vanilla, cardamom and honey. It's outstanding.

Fruit Butter, Misunderstandings, and Awkwardness

This week, I'm turning my post format upside-down. Trust me. Fruit butter takes a long time to simmer, so we'll start with it first. 

First, you get the Concord Grape Butter. I got the idea from Food In Jars' Instagram feed. These preserves taste and smell more like grapes than anything I've ever had. They are the grape soda (or gum) of your childhood, only way better.

Basically, we took all the grapes, washed them, cooked them on their stems until the fruit was soft, pulled out the stems (they were hot! and the juice stained my fingers for days! good thing I'm so selfless!), Wyatt put the grapes through the food mill to get rid of seeds and skins, and then I cooked down the puree until it was fruit butter consistency. I added a couple of tablespoons of sugar until it tasted right. We funneled the butter into jars and then processed the jars in the water bath. (The basic formula for fruit butter is here, and I've got plum butter simmering in the slow cooker as I type.)

Now that you know about grape butter (I mean, I had no idea, did you?), I feel like it's fair to share my recent thoughts on showing up in life.

I'm realizing that talking with Wyatt about race, justice, and fairness is, on one hand, completely necessary, and on the other hand, impossible for me to get right all the time. (And who doesn't like to get things right?) For example, last weekend, we were making dinner and Wyatt was, for the first time in his life, in charge of frying fritters. He was focused and attentive, and there was a lot of frying to do, so he was there for awhile. Over the sizzling pans and the whirring exhaust fan, we were discussing fairness and classmates being kind (or not so kind) at school, and I was trying to make the point that we (and he) should always be ready to help others. As I was saying something like, "...so Wyatt, if we see someone being hurt, or treated badly, it's our job to check in with the person so we can help them, stick up for them..." he cut me off and declared with a degree of solemnity I didn't know was possible, "Yes. I know. Stand up for them. And I could get killed for it."

Marc and I looked at each other, not sure how to react. I did a quick mental sift and suddenly realized Wyatt must have been referring to the (totally inspiring) profiles in Rad Women Worldwide where women had (1) stood up for their beliefs and (2) had been killed for it. Doing our best on-the-fly-repair-job, Marc and I went on to talk about how getting killed for your beliefs can be an outcome (I mean, obviously), but it's a very unusual outcome in our community. Most importantly, getting killed for standing up for his beliefs and for others is not a thing Wyatt needs to worry about, at all. I wonder how much of all this he grasped. Marc and I later agreed that we'd pay better attention to and talk with Wyatt about examples we noticed where we, or someone else, supported others in the course of everyday life.

But that wasn't the only misunderstanding that weekend. On Saturday, Wyatt was listening on the kitchen speakers to his beloved cassette where Diana Ross sings "Workin' Overtime." He asked, "Mom. Diana Ross has brown skin, right? Was she enslaved?" I said, "No, slavery was over before her time, but her..." He cut me off, "Her ancestors probably were enslaved?" "Yes," I said, "You've got it. Why do you ask?" He responded, "Well, because she's singing, 'I'm working ALL THE TIME.' So it made me think she was enslaved.'" Of course it did. Everything and everyone is impossibly old when you're six; 1863 was a long, long time ago, but so was 1989. I explained the words were actually "working overtime," and we discussed how that was different from "all the time," and from slavery.

And then this weekend? I got the awkward-over-thinker award. We were headed to a baseball game! I realized after we had invited Wyatt's big-kid-buddy from school to join us that we might be at the park in time for the national anthem, and since we'd have someone else's child with us, I had better find out where his family was on the anthem protest issue. So I texted his mom. I felt a super awkward, and in the end, we missed the anthem anyway.

What's my point? My point is that we have to actually show up in life. And part of showing up is feeling awkward (ugh), getting stuff wrong (which sucks), learning to do better (yay), and then showing up again, and again (no, it doesn't end). Humanity needs me, and it needs you. Just these last few weeks have shown this fact over and over again, from devastating hurricanes, to the United States' failure adequately to aid Puerto Rico, to the terrorism in Las Vegas, to the United States' continued preference for the Second Amendment over human lives.

Yes, it's a lot. And this week? I didn't feel like volunteering in the garden like Wyatt and I usually do. But as Wyatt said, "Of course I want to go. Why wouldn't we go?" So we showed up and did our work. As always, it was worth it.

Make More Art; Eat More Frangipane

This summer, Wyatt spent several weeks at art camp. This past week, we decided it was time to document the work he had done. I'm so glad we did the documenting step. Taking photos of the projects allowed him to appreciate his work and decide which of it he wanted to keep (and which could be recycled, because, let's be real, enough with the four grocery bags of artwork in the dining room). It was fun going through the projects with him. I got to hear what he liked, what was hard, and what was amazing.

I know we'll revisit some of these projects, and I'm betting that some of you could use some art project inspiration, so I'm sharing my notes and photos here. One project that is omitted from most of the photos is the new sketch book the kids got and decorated every week. Wyatt had already distributed them around the house (so he can always be ready to sketch).

Animals in Art

• Animal Paws: Kid-sized rubber gloves decorated with glued or taped fur and foam claws.
• Mounted Animal (Pig) Head: Cardboard mounting board, crumpled newspaper, masking tape to help shape and hold it all together, box from bar soap to make the chin, toilet paper roll for snout, pink and black paint.
• Fish Wind Sock: Paper (choose paper that's a little on the drapey, thin but fibrous side, not crisp, more like a tyvek envelope), dowel, string, wire. Fold the paper lengthwise and draw the outline of a fish-shaped windsock so the belly is on the fold line. Cut along the outline (but not the belly) and unfold the paper. Decorate with paint (head, fins, scales). Glue the cut sides together. Find the space for the mouth (cut wider if needed). Take a wire and wind it into a circle that's the size of the mouth. Glue the edges of the paper fish over the wire "like lipstick." Attach a string at the mouth and then attach the other end of the string to the dowel so you can run around with it behind you and it will catch air and fly.
• Animal and Habitat: Habitat cut from manila folder and folded. Decorate and glue it so it is 3-D. Add a snake (or whatever animal lives in the habitat you made) made out of clay. Make designs in the clay with a toothpick. Once the sculpture is dry, you can even paint it GOLD.

Most favorite: Mounted Pig Head.

Printmaking

Solar Printing: Lots of companies sell the paper you'll need. Here's one. This project is most fun if you have a piece of plexiglass that's as big as your piece of paper. It will hold your paper and items down nicely.  Key is to have a big piece of plexiglass to hold your design in place

Stamps: Make stamps out of foam you can cut and stick to cardboard pieces, or take some styrofoam type material you can "draw" on with a pencil to make an indent. Then ink the stamp and press it on paper.

Marbling: I am not sure how they did this. Wyatt has described it over and over, to the point of frustration, but I think I'm missing something. Here are some tutorials: Japanese Water Marbling and another that uses a thickener in the water, and this one that uses shaving cream (but I know for sure this was not what they did--they definitely used a water bath).

Salad Spinner Painting: Here's a tutorial. Wyatt noted the importance of having a salad spinner for painting, and a separate one for salad.

Most favorite: Making the X print. Take a plastic platform, and put paint or ink on it. Put two pieces of paper down in an X. Put another piece of paper on top of the X and the paint. Pick up the paper and now you have an X without any paint!

Most Frameworthy of the Summer: Draw on styrofoam with a pencil, roll ink on the styrofoam, print the image on three different colored papers, mount all three on a black mat, then visit your favorite local framing store to spiff it up even more. We love Underglass in the Castro.

Drawing and Painting

Scroll: First, make your paintbrush.  Assemble four q-tips in a row and sandwich them between two pieces of cardboard. Tape securely. Now you can paint four parallel lines with one swipe of your brush. Take a long piece of paper and paint with watercolor on it. Do the same on another piece of paper. Then use your brush to paint black, wavy lines on the scroll, and on the other piece of paper. Cut out shapes from the other piece of paper. Angle them so they give contrast on the scroll. Glue them down. For both ends of the scroll, take a strip of black paper and put glue on the black piece, stick the white piece down on the black, glue a straw along the middle of the black paper and then fold the rest of the black piece over the straw and onto the white scroll. Glue the second side of the black paper down. Feed a string through the straw.

3-D model: Build one out of paper! Paint both sides and then fold it so it stands up.

Most Favorite Project: Scroll.

Mixed Media

Collage work this week was inspired by Gee's Bend Quilts and Stuart Davis.

Painted Fabric Pillow: Cut matching shapes, paint them, glue around the edges and stuff with polyfill or other stuffing.

Photo Collage: One in black and white and one color. Take a picture with a camera and then print it. Use paint pens and colored paper to make a self-portrait. You can even put underwear on your head!

Most Favorite: Self portrait. The one with the underwear.

And no, we are not over frangipane yet. This weekend, we made Food 52's Apple Galette with Tahini Frangipane & Honey-Hibiscus Glaze. It's terrific, especially if you can't eat nuts. We concluded we love this galette--the tahini and apple flavors work together beautifully. I used the same gluten-free pie crust recipe as I used last week, and it was a tiny bit less annoying to work with than last time. The crust of this galette was way better than last week's too, probably because this recipe calls for a much higher oven temperature and a pizza stone on the bottom rack. Finally, the magic of the honey-hibiscus glaze cannot be overstated. Try it and prepare to be amazed at how it comes together into a perfect syrup. I bet it would be good even if you can't find (or be bothered to find) dried hibiscus flowers.

Mixed-Up, Frangipane, and X-Ray Spex

"So, we're going to swimming now, right?"

"No! Your teacher texted me and said he'd see us next week."

"Why? Was there poop in the pool?"

"No, he has athlete's foot."

"Oh. What's...Af-leaf's foot again?"

"A foot fungus."

"Oh, right. And he doesn't want other people to get it?"

"Right. So we have the WHOLE AFTERNOON ahead of us! We could finish our book, we could make that fruit tart thing you wanted to make, or we could make jam. What do you want to do?" [UNNATURALLY LONG PAUSE]

"Wyatt. What do you think?"

"I'm sitting here in the back of the car with my mouth open trying to trick you that I had a heart attack. Honestly, I can't decide. I want to do everything."

"ME, TOO!"

We opted to make a Summer Fruit Galette and dinner (we could eat mostly galette for dinner, but we couldn't eat only galette), and because the beans I was cooking for dinner took way longer than I had thought they would, we had extra-extra time to read more of Catherine Newman's new book, One Mixed-Up Night. In very broad strokes, the book is a story of two twelve-year old best friends who share a deep love of IKEA and plot to spend the night there. You know, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler-style.

It's possible I should have saved One Mixed-Up Night until Wyatt was older, but I doubt it. I can guarantee he will read it again because on at least six separate occasions, he laughed so hard he fell off the sofa and breathlessly declared, "THIS is the FUNNIEST book I have EVER read. I am SO GLAD YOU GOT IT, MOM." I am also glad I got it. It's funny, heartwarming, sad, and somehow, as only Catherine Newman can, entirely irreverent and yet totally respectful at the same time.

Wyatt's totally on to me, too. He knows when he can wheedle another chapter (or three, or seven) out of me. I have no discipline when it comes to chapter books like this one. As I confessed to him, it was all I could do not to sneak into his room after he was asleep and gobble it up on my own, without him. He gave me the side-eye. "But you DIDN'T do that, right?" I didn't. It took all my willpower, but I didn't.

Speaking of willpower, it's all I can do right now not to eat the rest of our Summer Fruit Galette. I have watched a few seasons of The Great British Baking Show, where they're always baking frangipane this and frangipane that, and I was very much of the WHO EVEN CARES because what-is-it-anyway-I'm-guessing-some-almond-paste-thing attitude. But I was intrigued. Imagine my delight to see that in the galette recipe I chose to use up our too many plums and weirdly ripening nectarines, we'd have to make frangipane! Let me just say, frangipane is marvelous, and I regret that I have spent so much of my life frangipane-free. We used Gluten Free Girl's pie crust for our galette, and while it basically worked, it was awfully crumbly. It was delicious, but not at all sturdy. I guess what I'm saying is that Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood would have low-key forever shamed me for the crust, but it was more than fine by us. (Do any of you have a terrific gluten-free pie crust to share? I'm struggling, and my sensible child who lacks baking pride asked me this week why I didn't just buy the frozen ones from Whole Foods because it would have been so much easier...)

While we made the galette, we listened to X-Ray Spex's Germfree Adolescents. We've been checking out all the musical artists featured in Rad Women Worldwide, and so far, Wyatt loves Poly Styrene the best. Imagine my surprise when the first track started playing, and Wyatt was like, "I KNOW this one! They played it at Rock Band Land this summer while we were coming in at the beginning of the day."

Frangipane, a good book, and gratitude for other peoples' thoughtful influence on your child: Some days, you feel like you're winning because you actually are.

So Long, Summer

We had a great summer, full of fun camps and new friends for Wyatt, and room for creativity with less driving for me. We closed summer out with a truly wonderful family vacation. Then, back to school arrived with a clattering crash. We're all still adjusting.

When Wyatt was a toddler, I remember complaining bitterly about how hard transitions were. Getting from one place to another, literally and figuratively, when he was a preschooler, was daunting. And you know what? I was too hard on him. Transitions suck for everyone, including me.  I mean, surely you noticed there was no blog post last week. Oh, you didn't? I'm sure you're in good company. I was too deeply in mourning over the end of summer and too busy trying to finish a knitting project to write anything.

Wyatt has been back in school for 7 days; today, he is home sick. Such is the magic of back-to-school. Usually, sick days are pretty boring, but this morning we were treated to a naked guy doing a high-step-saunter past our house. My neighbor called to tell me about him, and to suggest we not go outside just then. Such a good neighbor.

Of course I'll take naked-sauntering-guy (or just boring) over the storms and floods so many people are dealing with right now. Climate change is real, and the effects are intense.

Last week, in recognition of the end of summer and library due dates, I returned the final third of our summer reading list. All the books were, once again, terrific. In reading to Wyatt, I learned about music and musicians I knew little about (I And I, Esquivel! Space Age Sound Artist, Jimi: Sounds Like a Rainbow), and Wyatt began to understand about boycotts (Joelito's Big Decision). Wyatt said his favorite book of this group was I And I. He isn't sure why, but I can guess it's because the poetry and illustrations were so beautiful, and because the prose explanations were so clear. We're still reading Rad Women Worldwide, so we renewed that one.

Lest anyone think I only read picture books this summer, I let me assure you that's not true. I joined Audible a few months ago and have recently finished listening to the audio version of the novel, Homegoing, and the podcast, The Butterfly Effect. They're totally different types of work (obviously), but I found both totally engrossing. I also listened to The Sympathizer (it was fine), and Between the World and Me (an absolute must-read-or-listen). Also, I enjoyed Lincoln in the Bardo with my eyes instead of my ears, but I understand the audio recording is remarkable.

I just started reading The Cooking Gene. I had the pleasure of hearing the author, Michael Twitty, speak at Omnivore Books recently. He was so engaging in person, I wondered how his written word would compare. I'm so delighted that his writing is equally captivating. As one reviewer put it,

Should there ever be a competition to determine the most interesting man in the world, Michael W. Twitty would have to be considered a serious contender. Twitty, a self-taught independent culinary historian who lives in Rockville, Md., is partial to dressing in the period attire of antebellum slaves, picking tobacco to get a sense of how his African American ancestors once lived and cooking using ancient methods so fiery that he singes the hair off his arms and eyebrows. He is a man of substantial girth — and proud of it. He has described himself as “four time blessed” — 'large of body, gay, African American and Jewish.'"

There's a fascinating interview with Mr. Twitty on Civil Eats here. And you can buy a copy of the Cooking Gene (signed even!) from Omnivore Books, or wherever you like to buy your books.

Speaking of food, well-meaning friends suggested that after a week of vacation in a hotel, where I couldn't cook, I'd be so happy to get back to it when we got home. Guess what? They were wrong. I didn't miss it even once, and getting back to it has been kind of annoying. I have, however, made one new dish, thanks to my aunt's urging. You all know I am no fan of substitute foods (zuchhini as noodles, for example), but this Spice Merchant Cauliflower Couscous is terrific.  I doubt it tastes like couscous, but it looks a little like it, and is a delicious way to prepare cauliflower. Against my better judgment, I even included the golden raisins, and they were actually good. I know. This recipe is breaking all my rules. I'm going to make it again this week.

Pickled Peaches

Sound weird? They aren't. They're spicy, sweet, and tangy. Pickled peaches are delicious. Honestly. Jam is great, but this pickled fruit thing is really intriguing me.

We made some pickled peaches recently, thanks to Food In Jars' recipe for Gingery Pickled Peaches. (It occurs to me that if you hate ginger, you could substitute another flavor.)

We followed the recipe exactly. Perhaps we followed it too exactly, though, because the peach skins were nowhere close to ready to come off after the allotted time. I recommend that if you try this, you don't cool the hot water until you test-peel a peach slice and it works.

We had left-over pickling liquid. It was so good that I put it in a pot, added some more sugar, and boiled it until it became a thick syrup. It was delicious drizzled on yogurt.

Color Factory!

Social media has its good points. You know that feature where you can see the things your friends have said they're "attending" or "interested in?" I love that feature. That feature is how I found out about the Color Factory.

The Color Factory is a pop-up museum that invites us to experience color in the context of immersive, interactive installations. There are colors in light, paint, ribbon, paper, and more, and it's all around you. It's amazing.

I've been listening voraciously to A Piece of Work, and thinking about how our experience with modern art is all about how we interact with a piece, how it makes us feel, and what it makes us think. There's so much room for pondering all these questions at the Color Factory. They also give you snacks.

Here are some of the photos from Wyatt's and my journey through a sea of colors, textures, sounds, and experiences.

This was a museum at its best. Color Factory tickets are available through September, here.

The Latest: News and Knitting

This week's blog post was going to be entirely about the knitting patterns I released into the wild late last week. But this weekend, white supremacists descended on Charlottesville, and through their acts of terrorism, they severely injured and killed people, including Deandre Harris and Heather Heyer. The president has, once again, shown us who he is by failing to immediately denounce the neo-Nazis and their actions. I wish I were shocked.

I've read great pieces about how we can respond to the events in Charlottesville, including this one, and this one, about how to talk to children about it.

But a "what happened in Charlottesville" conversation is a tiny part of the ongoing conversation we (and when I say "we," I mean white people, in particular) need have every day with our children. Hate mongers don't get to decide when I address racism (or any other societal scourge) with Wyatt. So today? We continued reading Rad Women Worldwide. We read about Sophie Scholl and the White Rose. Sophie's story is inspiring, remarkable, and so worth your time. I hadn't heard it before this week. Here are some of the things we discussed in connection with our reading:

• "Wait. So she JOINED the Nazis? Didn't she know they were bad?" (She joined because she didn't know what they were about. When she learned they were about hatred and inequality, she fought them.)
• "I'm smiling right now because she was so brave making those papers and leaving them around--she could have been arrested for that!" (YES!)
• "Do the people that hate always lose? Like in that war we talked about, the one before the enslaved people were free, and in this one, the Nazis lost. But if they lose, they don't always get killed, right? So there are still some of those kinds of people around." (Right. We've talked about them before. People who hate other people because their skin is a different color, for example.)
• "Hang on. So those Nazi people liked people like them. And I'm white like them, so they'd like me, right?" (Ah. Good point. They might. But they don't like people who stand up for others, either. I know it feels good when people like us. But it's okay, and sometimes it's really good, not to be liked. You're safe. Your dad and I and other grown-ups keep you safe. There are a lot more people (like us) who believe in equality and fairness, and we win because we work together.)

We win because we work together. May it be so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In lowercase "n" news, I published some patterns last week. (No, there aren't any good transitions from Nazis to knitting. Trust me. I've looked.) My Coastal Urban Trails Collection includes patterns for three accessories inspired by the rugged beauty (and fog!) of San Francisco’s beaches, parks, and open spaces. All three patterns include two versions: one for a bulky yarn and one for a lighter weight yarn.

There's a hat, Nest: Dove (in O-Wool Chunky Merino) and Hummingbird (in O-Wool Local).

There's a cowl, Strata: Mountain (in O-Wool Legacy Bulky) and Sand (in Sincere Sheep Equity Sport).

And there are also boot cuffs!  Footpath: Stroll (in O-Wool Legacy Bulky) and Hike (in Sincere Sheep Equity Sport).

Nest and Strata use a technique called helix knitting (or helical stripes) (like a barber pole!) in their construction. I have included how-to instructions and a link to a video, too. It's hard for me to believe I've been working on these patterns since the winter; no one ever said I was efficient or prolific in this new occupation. I am pretty excited to see how much people enjoy knitting and wearing them.

(If you're so inclined, each pattern is available individually in my Ravelry store, and the ebook containing all three is 15% off through the end of August.)

Abundance: Beads and Summer Squash

"Mom. Do you think there are people in Ghana who like making beaded necklaces as much as I do?"

"Probably not."

"Really? I mean, THEY HAVE ALL THESE BEAUTIFUL BEADS THERE. OF COURSE there must be people who love doing this as much as I do. There HAVE to be."

Summer of craft is on fire, I tell you. If there's a thing to be sketched, fabric to be stitched, or beads to be strung, we're there.

Wyatt's necklace project was inspired by a quick trip through Qoio on 24th Street. While walking among the cases of all the gorgeous creations, Wyatt spied a box containing strings of beautiful recycled glass beads and announced we should absolutely buy the cobalt blue string so he could make himself a necklace. A quick look at the beads made me think they had been made by Cedi Beads Industry in Odumasi/Kobo, Ghana. The shopkeeper confirmed my suspicions. (Check out this video of a tour--the work the artisans do making the beads by hand is truly remarkable.)

Marc and I toured Cedi Beads Industry in 2010 when we traveled to Ghana to visit my aunt and uncle and other friends and family. The entire trip was amazing, and seeing this particular craft, where people recycle old glass bottles into beautiful beads, was incredible. (Seriously. Watch the video.) As you might guess, I bought a fair number of beads from Mr. Cedi's shop at the factory, and I had some left as of last week. Now I have fewer, but I also have an ecstatic, bead-stringing, necklace-wearing six-year old. That feels like a win to me.

Making a simple necklace is easy, but you do need some supplies. Because I wasn't sure we had everything we needed, I made Wyatt wait a whole day to make his necklace. It wasn't pretty, but he survived. Meanwhile, I dug out the jewelry making kit that I hadn't touched for about eight years, I found one remaining clasp, a bunch of crimp beads, wire, pliers and wire cutters. Wyatt was in luck: we had enough hardware to make one necklace. (If you want to try this project, this tutorial is great and shows exactly the way we made our necklace, down to the Soft Flex Wire.)

Wyatt had so much fun choosing which of my beads to use, and how to alternate them with his beads, taking them off and putting them on the wire to see how different multiples of different colors changed the effect. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have so many options when making his necklace.

He proudly wore his necklace to camp the next day, and the next. That second day, though, it broke because some kid yanked on it (somewhat mean-spiritedly, apparently). But the teachers helped Wyatt pick all the pieces up and we put the necklace back together with new wire and new crimp beads that evening. Lesson: It's always good to have extra supplies, in case of a catastrophe.

Having an abundance of good craft supplies is the best. Summer is supposed to be about abundance, right? Time, crafts, sun, books, and even fruits and vegetables, too. One thing I'm never excited for this time of year, though, is the abundance of summer squash and zucchini. We got about two pounds (or more?) of it in our farm share box last week. As I unpacked it, I actually said "Ugh," and Wyatt asked, "What are you going to do with THAT?" You see, he's not a fan either. I know, I know, you're shaking your head and thinking zucchini is great! You can make it into noodles! Zoodles! It's healthy! Low carb! Paleo! Whatever. I can't even. It isn't ever going to be a noodle. It's zucchini. And it suffers from being irretrievably watery and terribly textured if you cook it for even a moment too long. Also? It doesn't taste very good. But, I noticed a recipe on the insert with our farm share, and I thought, "This sounds so weird, it might taste amazing." It was for Creamy Courgette and Tarragon Cobbler (by Yotom Ottolenghi, so, there's credibility behind it). And the dish was outstanding. It's not a quick recipe, but it was so good I'm almost looking forward to having too many squash again in a couple of weeks.

Here's how ours looked (after we ate most of it). I didn't think to check for the online version of the recipe with photos until I decided to write this post. When I made the recipe, I could not figure out how I was supposed to pipe the mashed potato. Looking at the recipe photo after the fact, it's obvious. At the time, however, I thought, my poor piping might be the closest I'd ever feel to failing a Great British Baking Show technical challenge.

Happy Birthday!

Happy second birthday to this little blog. Two years of weekly posts! I'm amazed. Wyatt and I got frozen yogurt after camp today to celebrate. As if I needed an excuse.

Food, crafts, learning, volunteering, and reading are where we've spent lots of time this past year. Not bad, really.

Two years in, I still wonder if I need a focus, or at least a reliable rotation of topics. And while I know there are some people who write for the sake of writing and don't care if anyone reads what they write, I am not one of them. If I were, I'd write my posts in a notebook and leave it on my desk.

So in honor of String & Twig's second birthday, I'd like to hear what you most enjoy reading here. Is there something you wish I'd write about? I've heard from some people that they loved the posts about cheese. I get it, because CHEESE, but is there some other reason, too? What grabs you and makes you read any of what I post? Is it our connection in real life? Or what brings you here? What makes you come back? I'd love to know. Leave me comment, send me a message, a tweet, or even drop me a note.

More Summer Reading!

What is the first book about a person of color that you remember reading as a child?

I answered that question for myself last week as Wyatt and I continued enjoying the books on our summer reading list.

Our summer reading list, which I've mentioned before and will mention again, is excellent. Without exception, we've enjoyed every book, and each one has given us something to discuss. Our list includes about thirty books. I've been requesting ten or so books off the list at a time from the library. Why so many? I feel unbelievably rich walking out of the library with a giant stack of books in my arms. Also, it's fun when Wyatt opens his eyes wide and grins so hard to see how many of the books on the hold shelf are for him

Many of the books we picked up in the first third of our list were about music. I can't even say which Wyatt liked more than another. We read all of them several times. Wyatt does keep talking about borrowing Sweet Music In Harlem again, though--it's a really fun story. My Name Is Celia/Me llamo Celia: The Life of Celia Cruz/la vida de Celia Cruz got us listening to lots of salsa music and prompted Wyatt to ask me why, when it comes to famous people of color, the story starts out with white people not liking the person, but by the end, white people love the person.

We're in the middle of reading the second third of the books (see the photo above). Some stand-outs so far include: Daniel's Ride (featuring a '63 Impala), Ruby's Wish (a true story), and Hip Hop Speaks to Children (a music CD!). I found President Barack Obama's Of Thee I Sing incredibly moving, and Wyatt was into it, but found fault with the last page that says America is made up of people of every kind. After studying the illustration, he said, "There aren't any disabled people in the picture. Maybe that girl in the front who's holding the other girl's arm is disabled? But there aren't any people in wheelchairs." Good point, I thought. We went on to discuss how sometimes you can't see peoples' disabilities, but we were left curious why the illustrator opted not to depict someone in a wheelchair.

The two collections of stories we've read, Her Stories: African American Folk Tales, Fairy Tales, and True Tales  and The Girl Who Helped Thunder and Other Native American Folktales might be the best books of all, in part because they last longer than the single-story picture books. Wyatt will sit for over an hour just listening to me read, absorbing the magic of the stories and identifying with the characters in them. He listens so intently that he has noticed parallels between stories. For example, he observed how greedy, selfish people turned into owls in the Wiyot tale, "Why Owl Lives Away From The People," and in the supernatural African American tale "Who You!" I had missed that similarity. (In my defense, it's easier to read critically when you're not the one who's reading aloud.) I was impressed with his observation. How interesting that in some traditions, owls are considered conniving, greedy and selfish. I had only ever seen them portrayed as aloof and wise.

Then again, owls might only be aloof and wise for white, western storytellers like A. A. Milne. And that's kind of the point of our summer reading list. The books we read help inform our view of the world. I want Wyatt's view to be many things, including broad, open, honest, empathetic, and embracing of race, culture, and differences. The stories we have been reading support all of those values and invite Wyatt to consider himself in relation to the individuals in the stories.

Meanwhile, all these stories contrast sharply with the first book about a person of color that I recall from my own childhood. That book was Little Black Sambo. I went digging around for it last week while Wyatt was at camp and found my copy buried in the back of a closet. I reread it by myself, cringing at how truly ignorant and racist it is, and thinking how even if you somehow gave it new illustrations and revised it to avoid the ignorance and racism, the story would still be pretty dumb. I'm not alone in this opinion. My copy should not have survived as many moves as it did, and it should not have escaped our annual Spring Cleanings, either. My excuse? I was embarrassed to own the book and embarrassed to throw it away, lest someone else find it and keep it.

But there's no room for paralysis when it comes to harboring racism, especially racism in the form of picture books. I'm pleased to report that the book is now gone. To be clear: I am no book burner; I am a book shredder. After all, there are so many worthy books that deserve shelf space (or even back of closet space) instead of that one.

How to Sew a Pillow Sham

Last Tuesday, Wyatt and I headed back to San Francisco after more than a week in Massachusetts. While we were gone, we enjoyed two fireworks shows, a parade, family, friends, the beach, ice cream almost every day, a water balloon fight, and bumper boats. Coming home to Marc was so good, but the transition back to life as usual was jarring.

"What are we going to DO today, Mom?" Wyatt asked me on Wednesday morning. "Go to the grocery store!" I replied with forced enthusiasm that fooled neither of us. Wyatt buried his face in a pillow and whined about how much he didn't want to go. I went on, "I was also thinking, maybe you'd want to learn to use the sewing machine. We could make you new pillow shams." "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, as he rolled half his face up from the pillow. "Like I can do the sewing? Myself? And how do we make them? Out of what? Mom. Can I sew them?"

I'm sure there are simpler first sewing projects we could have done. But his bed needed new shams to go with his new quilt.  I know I've said this before, but my aunt's quilting is truly amazing. She really outdid herself on this rainbow quilt project, too. So many seams, so many quilting lines, and such impeccable color choices for each block. Wyatt's rainbow quilt turned out to be everything he had dreamed it would be when he chose the pattern. But as you can see, his old shams didn't even come close to matching.

(Summer of Craft to the rescue!)

After going to the grocery store ("First, we have to do the stuff we HAVE to do..." UGGGHH), we stopped at Discount Fabrics. Wyatt perused all the fake fur and flashy spangly sparkles, but ultimately chose emerald green cotton for one sham and dark purple cotton for the other. I almost told him that people usually have shams that match, but I'm so glad I caught myself before I did. I mean, what a dumb thing to say to a kid, never mind to a kid with a new rainbow quilt.

There are so many online tutorials to make pillow shams. If you want a tutorial, check out this one or this one. I was going to follow one of these, but then deciphering the instructions started to suck the joy out of the project for me. As I quickly learned, I can't read a tutorial and manage a six-year old's first sewing project at the same time without feeling grumpy and shouty. I opted to use Wyatt's old shams as a guide.

We bought one yard of green and one of purple, and both fabrics were 60 inches wide. We washed and dried the fabric, and Wyatt ironed it. In addition to learning where to point what I named the iron's "cow pusher" (I just remembered it's actually called a cow catcher on a train, but whatever, the train connection gave ironing new life), he learned what it smells like when you scorch fabric. We decided even though you can sort of see the scorch marks, it's not that bad.

Measuring the squares.

Laying out the two pieces.

Pinning the two pieces.

Sewing! Finally!

Pressing the seam open.

Laying out the sham to determine where the fold should be.

Just before stitching the seam on the top and bottom of the rectangle.

For each standard-sized sham, I cut one rectangle that was 21" tall and as long as the fabric. Then, I cut another smaller rectangle that was 21" tall and about 2/3 as long as the pillow. Wyatt and I pinned the two rectangles together and seamed them with a 1/2" seam allowance. That seam falls at the pillow's end. Wyatt pressed it open. Next, we ironed, pinned, and hemmed the raw edges that would form the opening for the pillow. The next step was pinning the final two seams of the sham. I wish I'd had more overlap at the opening (it seems like about 5" is ideal), but you get what you get when you "measure" using mostly your eyeballs. Once again, Wyatt and I concluded it was fine. Wyatt stitched these seams as well.

If you do this project, you may want to trim the seam allowances (we didn't). Turn the sham right-side-out, paying good attention to the points of the corners, and you're done (unless you feel it needs more ironing). The second sham took us about 90 minutes to make. The first one was closer to 2 hours. Your mileage may vary.

My friend, Pam, who writes a blog called Mathy Moments, came to mind as I was working on this project with Wyatt. After all, this project is FULL OF FUN MATH. (Please visit Pam's blog if you think "fun math" sounds impossible, or if fun and math are already synonymous to you. She's got you covered, either way.) With Wyatt, I kept things conceptual and simple, and I didn't get hung up on precision. Too many details would have derailed our momentum and postponed dinner indefinitely. Still, we talked about shapes, what seams we should do in which order, how we should arrange the seams and hems so they'd all be on the wrong side of the fabric, how the sham we were copying was made, how to measure things, how to get straight lines, and how drawing straight lines on on fabric (instead of paper) makes things trickier. Wyatt also got to experience how you kind of have to counter-steer a sewing machine to find a straight line after you've lost it, and how if you use more fabric for your seams, the pocket for the pillow will be smaller.

I think the big lesson, though, is that using a sewing machine is super fun, and enjoying new pillow shams you made yourself (that also happen to match your new clothes from Primary) is pretty great too.

Ted's scarf by Benjamin.