Book Review: Hand Stitched Felt by Kata Golda

While a new baby remains blissfully unaware of that little sweater that you made for him (or the dozens of evenings knitting and re-knitting plus the case of wine and dedicated management of netflix to keep oneself occupied during said endless knitting), toddlers are considerably more selective. A certain five year old that I know has already requested "No more clothes Heather, because I really don't like clothes and you keep giving me more and I have enough of them and my closet is full". I'm not naming any names, but I think that parents should know that even a childless friend can tell when Mommy has been doing a little bit of coaching in the gift communication department. And admittedly, that it is actually appreciated.

Toys have longed seemed the answer to this dilema. But while I have an impressive craft book library, I have not, until Hand Stitched Felt, had a single one that includes such a wonderful assortment of toys and accessories. There has been a need for a book like this for quite some time, and Kata Gold was the perfect person to write it.

From Hand Sitched Felt by Kata GoldaI have been aware of Kata Golda for some time, having first bumped into one of her little framed portraits of a dapper little mouse dressed in striped cover-alls in a shop in California years ago. What struck me then and what strikes me now about her work is the expressiveness of the simple faces on her felt animals conveyed with  literally a few simple lines. Her toys and embellishments are so full of personality and life that they are sure to become well loved members of the family. Melanie just finished this little guy, who I think is especially dear. And maybe its my imagination, but I see Kata in his little face as much as I see Melanie, and I think I even see a trace of Melanies real-life dog.

Melanie Falick's Dog, from Hand Stitched Felt by Kata Golda

So simple, right? But so totally pee-your pants cute that the entire New York City Craft world has been crazy over them since they arrived in town a few weeks ago, even inspiring an extremely cute little stop action film. You can even win a free copy of Hand Stitched felt by leaving a comment about the video.

See more images and projects from Hand Stitched Felt here, on the STC blog, or learn more about it here at STC Craft.

Shut UP, no WAY!

That's what my niece said to me four or five years ago when I told her that Miley Cyrus would be wearing Munki Munki pajamas - the yoga print - on the Hannah Montana show. When the image later became a part of the shows opening credits I was, in the eyes of my then middle school niece and her elementary school aged sister, SOMEBODY.

But, as Hannahs sparkly little star began to fade, I feared for my own public image in the eyes of my tween nieces. The girls are older now, and harder to impress. And I am older, and finding it harder to be hip, at least in the eyes of the young. You can imagine my glee, then, at the news that one of the many Hannah Montana dolls on the market currently is proudly donning a pair of yoga print Munki Munki pajamas, which has created nice little bump on my "hip" meter over at my sisters house.

Actually, lets be honest, nobody thinks I'm hip, including me. Which is (Stephen) the real reason why I haven't moved to Brooklyn yet. Its too hip for me. We tried, we went and looked at an apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn that a friend of our had described as "amazing". Williamsburg is the type of neighborhood that has a bar whose specialty is throwing rock and roll birthday parties for toddlers. I was there having lunch once when a seven year old Kate Moss in motorcycle boots and a tutu pulled over her low slung New Religion jeans climbed up on a bar stool and ordered something called a "Pet Peeve". And people smoke in public there, too, without the furtive and shameful expressions seen on the faces of doorway and alcove smokers all over Manhattan. And breakfast is not served until 11 o'clock. We know this because we arrived for our appointment early and starving. We did find a place that was sort of open at 10:30, but the waiter left us alone with our thoughts until 11. My thoughts, which I was happy to share out loud with TC, included: "This place is cold. Does this place feel cold to you?" and "The music in here is too loud. Don't you think the music in here is too loud?". Also, in reference to our waiter, "How many tattoos does one need, exactly?" and, once our food had arrived: "my eggs are cold. Are your eggs cold?" When we finally did see the apartment, which was an expensive, dark cave that came with some ferocious looking cats (bonus rodent control), TC didn't even bother to evaluate the place with me because, as he put it, "You are 85 years old in Williamsburg."

We settled on the Financial District, in lower Manhattan, where we can afford a real kitchen. Its a bit like having moved to Chicago: everyone is polite and average looking (thank God, I always felt like such an ogre among the beautiful people in our old neighborhood) and it is extremely windy. We don't have a Bloomingdales in this neighborhood, we have a Benetton.

I like it here because it is, undeniably, unhip. I even appeared publicly (with my dog) this morning wearing my Munki Munki pajamas. Just like Hanna Montana.

A Magic Bus of My Own

Photo by Jim Church, 1969My fondness for VW busses (or kombis, or wagons, or microbus, or whatever you prefer) is longstanding. A few years ago I contacted the VW corporate office in Germany about using the image of their bus in some fabric designs, wanting to know what the licensing fee was. I got a very nice letter in return from somebody with lots of consanants in their name saying, basically, that I didn't have to pay them anything (but I did need permission) but that they would very much like a few pairs of pajamas, "frei". 

The bus in the photo above belonged to my uncle Mike. He is the Mick-Jaggerish looking fellow (they even had the same birthday, and the same lips) with his arm around his girlfriend, her name was Alison. The couple on the ground? Thats my Mom and my Dad. This photo was taken by an old family friend, Jim Church. The story, accoding to Jim, is that he was waiting in line to get into Woodstock (yes, that Woodstock) and my uncle Mike pulled up in this bus with my parents and Kenny and Bob (The other young men in this photo) and said "Don't wait in this crazy line, come up to Vermont with us instead." and so he did. And a day or so later, he took this picture. A year later this particular bus met its unfortunate end on our dirt road, when my father accidentally rolled it down a hill. My mother, hugely pregnant with my sister and I, was ejected from her passenger seat and landed in the grass. Everybody, except the bus, was fine.

My very first car was a 73 Volkswagen Superbeetle that never, ever properly ran. My mother traded our piano for it, which was very thoughtful of her. She is still annoyed at me for not caring for it well enough - or even managing to keep - such a treasure, and she has a point. My Beetle required a pair of needle nose pliers rather than an ignition key and three hands to drive it (four if it was snowing) because of its fog-prone windshield. If you wanted to start it you had to push it down the road and jump in and, while holding the pliers in pace, pop the clutch. One night my friend Angie (we were maybe 16? Maybe not quite?) and I pushed it almost a mile in freezing weather (and flats and miniskirts, naturally), down a snowy road trying to get it started and finally decided to leave it in Mr. Sylvesters yard, without bothering to let him know. The rest of the story is just too embarassing to tell, but that was the beginning of the end.

I didn't own another volkswagen again until just a few years ago, when I bought a little convertible rabbit. I left it in Santa Cruz when I moved to New York, and get to drive it when I am visiting. Its the perfect little beach car, and always starts right up. I know it sounds silly, but it feels more like a pet than a car. It has this eagerness about it, this quick little responsiveness and cheerful little purr. I know that cars don't technically have personalities, but....

Photo by John Gruen, 2007
We even had a VW in our wedding, as more of a member of the bridal party than the getaway car that we intended it as. My dear friend Michael rescued this Karmann Ghia from the infamous Vermont used car lot known as the "Greensboro Garage", I think he paid $800 for it. He lovingly restored it, even adding his company's own signature color combo or turquioise and orange. The "Carter / Mondale" bumper sticker is original.

VW announced a few years ago that they were planning a new VW bus. The concept was much like that of the original, a perfect family wagon that morphs into a camping mobile when called upon. "Well that decides it," I told TC, "we're having kids." Sadly, VW scrapped those plans. It isn't even on their concept cars page anymore.

A canadian company called Verdier has developed this beauty (licensed?) but I think its a bit out of my budget. Its worth watching their videos, here and here.

OK, so why am I blathering on about VW? Because I'm ready to make the plunge again. This time I'm on the lookout for a bus, ideally a Camper. I have big big plans for the exterior and seat and wall coverings, so one that is in good mechanical shape but in desperate need of a paint job and re-furb would be ideal. I haven't quite pinpointed the perfect year and model yet, but have been perusing sites like The Samba and comparing old images and ads. I'm thinking that my bus must be capable of long drives, camping, book touring, mobile party-throwing, and limited refrigeration. I like the pop-ups, but the ones with attached tents are pretty fabulous too, yes? Here are some of my more inspiring finds thus far, all from The Samba..

Rainbow Toe Socks

Rainbow Toe Socks by Jamie ShelmanI am a collector of happy things. When I saw this on Etsy this morning I knew that I needed it. $25 for something that will improve the way I feel every time I see it?  $25 for something that holds the promise of peace (because who could ever argue with their husband or their mother in the presence of a cat proudly modeling his rainbow toe socks?) and harmony in my home? I hit the buy button so fast that I gave myself a little neck spasm.

Now if I can just convince Kokka to let me do a "rainbow toe sock" print.

Weekend Sewing In Vermont Take 2...

I know, it was two weeks ago...  but it was such a great weekend that it deserves a full-fledged post. 

It was such a pleasure to spend another weekend at Blueberry Hill Inn with a dozen devoted stitchers and the one and only Denyse Schmidt, even with a terribly stiff neck that made it difficult to sleep and turn my head with anything but the deliberate, noisy effort of a bendy straw.

Most of our group arrived Friday before dinner, driving and flying from all points near and far, none of them too tired to start sewing after dinner. Projects and fabrics were picked and cutting began, with over half the group choosing my newly vetted Fall Dress pattern as their weekend project. It was evident early on that it would be a really great weekend: everyone seemed so lovely, and so fun.

The weather was a bit ominous all weekend, with big bursts of wind and rain and then heavy sunshine burning through big clouds. Friday night was especially eventful. Denyse and I were sharing Moosalamoo, a little two story cottage next door to the main Inn with a bedroom downstairs (mine) and a loft with two twins upstairs.  I thought I had the better room until I realized that the position of the bed meant that my head would be beneath the window. The storm kept me wide awake, with branches banging against my wall and the wind howling at such a high pitch that I felt as though I was trapped inside an episode of Scooby Doo. It really sounded exactly like someone with a microphone and a white sheet trying to convince me that my room was haunted so that I would leave before I discovered their ill-gotten buried treasure. It worked. After a noisy, frustrated effort to set up the folding cot in the sitting room Denyse shouted down to me that there was spare bed upstairs. It was much better up there, but I was awake all night anyway. I felt perfectly fine the next day, fueled by adrenaline, I suppose, and those chocolate chip cookies.

After a giant breakfast we went back to the barn and to our projects. Things were moving steadilty, with lots and lots of great ideas being tossed to and fro. The barn looked like a fully operational sweatshop by noon, which was when we decided that a nice lunch in town would be much better than a rainy hike. We even had time for a bit of antiquing and a visit to my favorite little vintage candy/ice cream/antique store in Brandon where we stocked up on gummys. Sarah even bought some lovely dining chairs.

Saturday evening was another late night of sewing, the barn lights finally went off at about 2 am. One determined stitcher (not naming any names here!) actualy skipped dinner to work on her dress. I know. It turned out beautifully, though!

Denyse led a great workshop on imrpovisational patchwork on Sunday morning. It was a bit like her extremely popular quilt workshop, except we used a foundation piecing technique and made simple little zip up bags. I dropped so many hints that Denyse gave me the one she made. They were all so beautiful. I have taken Densyes workshop and so I recognized that shocked look on everyones faces, that " I cannot believe I made this" sort of gaze. Its such a pleasure to see.

Everyne said goodbye at around lunchtime and Tony and Wolfgang (owner and resident sauna guru/ masseuse at BBH) fired up the sauna for Densye and I and we took a good long sauna and a few dips in the pond before having an enormous dinner and falling into bed, where we had no trouble falling asleep after recounting how great everyone was and how much fun we had had. It doesnt matter what the weather, a weekend at BBH is always perfect. How I wish the barn wasn't used as the XC ski center all winter, I would love to do a snowy sewing workshop. Instead, I said goodbye until next summer. We have already put the dates on the 2010 calendar: the weekends of August 7th and 14th. Next summer we are adding the sauna / pond dip to the evening workshop schedule. We will just have to stay up later to finish all of that sewing.

see more pictures here!