A Good Idea

I first wrote about this good idea 10 years ago, but I'm am still using them and thought it might be time to revisit the topic.

Christmas was always a fairly simple, easygoing holiday before I had children. I worked in various hospitals from Florida to New York depending on where we were living, and because hospitals never close, I worked on Christmas for 15 years. By the time we were celebrating our second Christmas with Ryan and Justin came along in 1993, it was slowly dawning on me that Christmas was becoming more complex and complicated. I did love orchestrating it for my young sons, but there's no denying that it took quite a bit of time and some late nights. I could see what the problem was but didn't have any good solutions.

I was browsing in the fabric store after that Christmas and chanced upon some Christmas fabric for $1.00/yard. I couldn't resist this incredible bargain, so even though I didn't have specific plans for it, I bought a bunch. On the way home it came to me - I would sew gift bags. Wrapping presents is one of the holiday-related chores that I don't enjoy one bit, and by spending some low-stress sewing time throughout the year, wrapping gifts would be as simple as popping them in a homemade bag and tying the ribbons.

I don't remember how many I sewed that first year, but they were such a success that I've been sewing bags almost every year since 1994. I enjoy choosing fabric and along the way I branched out into birthday bags.

I've amassed quite a stash of bags, but that way I almost always have the right size for any gift. When my sons are both settled on their own, I envision divvying up the bag stash and gifting the boys with their own bag collections. This hasn't happened ... yet. 

I've still got some fabric for a few more bags, but I haven't sewn any recently. This might be something to put on my list for January. 

We even save and re-use tags. I couldn't find any tags for Jess and Nugget, so they got new ones. I don't have good ideas every day, but this is one of my better ones and has worked wonderfully for me! 
 

Reading My Way Towards the End of the Year

There are still 11 days left before the end of the year, so these are not the last books I'll read in 2024. But because I read four of them this week, I thought they deserved a post of their own.

My Last Name was a pleasant, three star short story that I won from goodreads. The author tells the story of Lottie, 95 years old, infirm, and living in a care facility. She struggles with her memory, understanding exactly where she is, and who is with her, but she still clearly recalls important moments in her life. A longer book would have enabled me to better understand Lottie and her life, and while I found it a bit too religious, it was still a sweet end-of-life story. 

I was pleasantly surprised at how delightful the four stories in The Mistletoe Murder were (well, as "delightful" as murder can be). The prose was descriptive and made the settings easy to picture, and although each of the stories featured a murder, there wasn't any blood or gore. Dorothy Sayers wrote, "Death seems to provide the minds of the Anglo-Saxon race with a greater fund of innocent amusement than any other single subject." James was a master of this amusement and this Christmas-adjacent collection of stories is four-star evidence of her mastery. 

Our Wives Under the Sea is a quirky and original novel that for me was mainly about the process of grieving, even if the person we are missing may not actually be dead. Miri and Leah are married, and Leah finally returns several months after a deep sea mission that was thought to have been lost. Leah is present in physical form but it becomes clear that she is not the same person. In alternating chapters, Miri and Leah talk about their lives now and how it no longer resembles anything like what they had before. If you like clearcut details and endings in your novels, this book may not be for you as it's all quite confusing and uncertain. I'm not sure I would call the book enjoyable, but I have found myself thinking about it. It reminded me of the long, sad months that my mother was dying of breast cancer. I found myself grieving the mother I had known even as she was still lying quietly and uncommunicative but still breathing in the rented hospital bed, just as Miri had to grieve for Leah. Three and a half stars rounded up.

Horse by Geraldine Brooks is a beautifully written historical novel that masterfully weaves together themes of art, science, history, and race, all through the lens of an extraordinary race horse. Brooks uses this horse as a central figure around which she explores various narratives across time, blending the past with the present in a way that is both captivating and poignant.

The novel spans several timelines: the 19th century, during the time of the horse’s racing career; the early 20th century, when a painting becomes a symbol of race and power; and the modern-day search for the horse's origins. Brooks does an exceptional job of bringing these periods to life, making the historical aspects feel incredibly vivid and alive. Each timeline also explores deeper themes, from the complexities of slavery and racism to the enduring human obsession with beauty and mastery in both the artistic and sporting worlds.

What stands out most in Horse is the careful, nuanced exploration of race and its intersections with power. The narrative provides a vehicle for discussing the often painful history of slavery in America and the ways that race has shaped both history and culture. Brooks doesn't shy away from these uncomfortable truths, and her characters are rich, multifaceted, and deeply human in their struggles with identity, belonging, and ambition.

In terms of pacing, the book takes its time, which may not appeal to all readers, but it allows for a deep dive into both the historical and emotional elements of the story. The novel is meticulously researched, and it’s clear that Brooks has a deep respect for the story she’s telling. The prose is elegant and evocative, making it a pleasure to read even as the subject matter delves into difficult areas. While the novel is rich in detail, the multiple timelines occasionally felt a bit disjointed. This made the overall flow of the narrative feel uneven at times. But Horse is a remarkable work that offers so much more than a typical historical novel. It’s an insightful exploration of the ways that art, history, and race intersect as I think only Geraldine Brooks is capable of. It's even more extraordinary to realize that Brooks completed this book in the time after her husband Tony Horwitz died. Four and a half stars rounded up. 

 

What have you been reading lately? 

A Gathering of Poetry: December 2024

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry.

I've written several times here about how I worry about finding the "perfect" poem to share here. But it seems like the best poem often just presents itself. This month's poem was a present from Juliann, who sent me this one after I wrote about my blanket plan coming unraveled. I think it's wonderful and definitely want to share this one with all of you.

 

The Work of Happiness

by May Sarton

I thought of happiness, how it is woven

Out of the silence in the empty house each day

And how it is not sudden and it is not given

But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.

No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark

Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.

No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,

But the tree is lifted by this inward work

And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.

So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours

And strikes its roots deep in the house alone:

The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,

White curtains softly and continually blown

As the free air moves quietly about the room;

A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall—

These are the dear familiar gods of home,

And here the work of faith can best be done,

The growing tree is green and musical.

For what is happiness but growth in peace,

The timeless sense of time when furniture

Has stood a life's span in a single place,

And as the air moves, so the old dreams stir

The shining leaves of present happiness?

No one has heard thought or listened to a mind,

But where people have lived in inwardness

The air is charged with blessing and does bless;

Windows look out on mountains and the walls are kind.

 ====

Sarton, May. "The Work of Happiness". Collected Poems 1930-1993.1993: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc..

You can read more about May Sarton here. 

And a big thank you to Juliann!

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your favorite poems. The more the merrier!

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Unraveled Wednesday: 12/18/24

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with an FO - the completed Sparkly Hitchhiker. I was especially pleased with the finish since I feel like I won a gold medal for yarn chicken. I bound off with just 12 inches left, not enough for another row so I used every last bit of yarn possible. 

Ryan and John were in the room when I finished and while they didn't give me a standing ovation and break into applause, I know that you guys get it. 

This Hitchhiker has 56.5 teeth and is 79 inches long. I love to make my Hitchhikers long enough to wrap around my neck a couple of times, and because it's sparkly, I'm sure this one will be the perfect addition to my New Year's Eve attire. I will most likely be at home, but I'll be sparkly and warm. The photo above is one I took accidentally while I was getting up from arranging the Hitchhiker, but I like how it shows the sparkles so I couldn't just delete it.

This is the 29th Hitchhiker I've knit, which sounds a little obsessive (even to me). What can I say, Hitchhikers are my comfort knitting, so I almost always have one on the needles. Except for now! While I was looking for a pattern for fingerless gloves for my Tunis skein, I came across a hat that spoke to me. I've knit something for everyone except John for Christmas, so as soon as I finish typing here, I'll be casting on a Westerly hat (ravelry link) for him. He'll probably say he's got enough hats but the cables and braids called to me and it looks like it will be a fun knit. 

I read four books this week, so I'll post about them separately on Friday, but I'll be back tomorrow with A Gathering of Poetry. 

What are you making this week?

O, Christmas Tree

There has been some discussion of tinsel recently (from Carole and Vicki) and they've gotten me thinking about tinsel throughout my childhood. I was born in 1957, so we used real tinsel on our trees, the kind with lead in it. 

My father was almost a tinsel tyrant. After we decorated the tree with ornaments, he got out the tinsel and we all started carefully placing it on the branches, one strand at a time. That was fine for the first five minutes, but my sister and I quickly tired of one strand at a time and moved to the back of the tree where we could put on clumps of tinsel. After a few minutes, we were even more impatient and tried to get away with the Cardinal Christmas Sin of throwing tinsel at the tree. My father always noticed, reprimanded us, and gave us the annual lecture about how one strand at a time placed carefully and thoughtfully on each branch was the proper was to decorate. By this time my sister and I had often started crumpling the lead-based tinsel into balls to throw at each other.

But tinsel (properly placed!) did make our trees look like this:

"Real" tinsel was discontinued in 1972. I think my father stockpiled several boxes and we actually took it off the tree and tried to save it for a few years, but the strands broke and looked quite bedraggled. I wonder if I might have ended up a bit smarter if I hadn't been exposed to so much lead while decorating one strand at a time throughout my childhood and my sister throwing lead tinsel balls at me? I do kind of miss our tinsel-draped trees but this is my second year of not putting up a tree so there's nothing to put tinsel on. 

How about your trees - tinsel or not?
 

Dangerous Content Ahead!

Never fear, there isn't anything really dangerous in this post. It could be dangerous if you're concerned about healthy eating, your consumption of cake, or maybe your cholesterol level. But if you've got a bag of cranberries in your refrigerator or freezer, I have a delicious way for you to use them. 

I have a couple of recipes for Cranberry Cake/Pie in my recipe box. I've made them a couple of times, but I seemed to be the only one who ate it, and eating a whole cake (even if it is in a pie pan) by yourself is dangerous. So I haven't made either one for probably five years or more. But the other day I was perusing the King Arthur baking website and came across their recipe for Nantucket Cranberry Cake. Dinner was already in the crockpot (Venison Taco Soup if you want to make some good soup), but I was feeling the need for some type of slightly sweet dessert. So once I dug the bag of cranberries out of my freezer, I made this cake to satisfy my craving. 

 

And it's seriously good. I limited myself to one piece after dinner, but since I was writing this post, it seemed necessary for me to put a piece on a plate so I could take a photo. And once I had a piece of cake on a plate, I was pretty much committed to eating it. See how much I care about you guys and putting together posts with photos? I'm willing to eat a piece of cake for breakfast just so I can provide you with a better blog post. :-)

There is just something about the tart cranberries, buttery moist cake, and sugary topping that I find hard to resist. I might need to buy some coarse sugar and I'm wondering if the addition of orange zest or orange oil might be good. I didn't use walnuts because I'm not a big fan plus the fact that I didn't have any. I do like pecans so I might try them in place of the walnuts. So I've pretty much talked myself into making this cake again, maybe with some modifications. If you want to try an easy, delicious cake, maybe you want to try it, too!

Unraveled Wednesday: 12/11/24

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with some slightly different making than my usual. After looking at my pile o' presents, I realized that I didn't have anything for Nugget. I spent some time on YouTube (okay, quite a bit of time after I started watching cats riding Roombas) and found some ideas. So I'm sparing you another week with the Sparkly Hitchhiker and you get to see some sewing for a cat instead.

These are "kitty kickers", basically little pillows sewn and stuffed with polyester fiberfill and catnip. Nugget has one that she uses by flopping on her side, grabbing the toy and doing a cute little bunny kick with her back feet. I'm not sure how she feels about ribbons, so I made two with ribbons, and one without. John thought I was sewing pillows for Nugget to lay her head on, which I guess she could do if she wanted to. The plaid one is even nice and fuzzy.

Reading this week consisted of an average short story and an exceptional memoir. My Last Name was a pleasant short story that I won from goodreads. The author tells the story of Lottie, 95 years old, infirm, and living in a care facility. She struggles with her memory, understanding exactly where she is, and who is with her, but she still clearly recalls important moments in her life. A longer book would have enabled me to better understand Lottie and her life, and it was a bit too religious for my personal taste, but it was still a sweet end-of-life story.I gave it three stars.

It feels quite wrong to review the memoir of someone else's grief at the death of a spouse, but that is my task here. I read several reviews of Memorial Days and wanted to see if I would appreciate Geraldine Brooks' nonfiction writing as much as her fiction. I also knew that I didn't want to wait until the book was published in February, and I'm happy that I didn't have to. I found this to be every bit as good as her fiction writing.

Memorial Days recounts the time after Brooks' husband Tony Horwitz literally dropped dead on a Washington, D.C. sidewalk in May of 2019. The author tells the more immediate story of frantically trying to travel from their home on Martha's Vineyard to Washington and all the bits and pieces of what happened next. These chapters alternate with her thoughts and feelings after she has flown to Flinders Island off the coast of Australia to truly grieve three years later. Brooks and Horwitz met in journalism school and they lived and reported from many locations around the world before settling in Martha's Vineyard to raise their two sons. On Flinders Island she she writes about the varied ways other cultures grieve, such as Australia's Indigenous People, the Balinese, and the Iranian Shiites, and how she might move through similar practices herself.

The author enjoys some amount of privilege, like having the resources to fly to a sparsely populated island to process her grief, and having her cancelled health insurance reinstated because she had some connections and the right people were on her side. She writes about the consolation she and her son felt reading Tony's obituaries in The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and The New York Times. But she also recognizes this and writes about it, noting that these are not things the average person is likely to benefit from. Brooks is honest about dying in the Unites States, from receiving the news from an exhausted and overworked resident, to the red tape involved in getting Tony's body released to a funeral home, to having her credit cards and health insurance cancelled because they were in her husband's name. Geraldine Brooks' memoir is every bit as good as her fiction writing, and now I need to reread Horse. I didn't realize that she was only half done writing that book when her husband died, which makes Horse an even more remarkable novel.

Thank you Edelweiss and Viking for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on February 4, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?