Hello, Heatwave comments: 57

We alternate between pool and air conditioning. The air feels, as they say, like a blanket. I know exactly which kind of fluffy wool blanket, too. Soft and thick and pale gray and vaguely fuzzy. Water, water everywhere. My yard absolutely feels like August, not June. It's dry, and there are things blowing around, dry things. There are plums already falling, and smashing, and smearing the front sidewalk and the stairs. There is brown grass and brown plants. But we have apples, for the first time, in the backyard. The Cox's Orange Pippin tree we planted I don't know how many years ago — it has apples the size of billiard balls on it, and that's a first. Usually they all fall to the ground when they're the size of golf balls. I don't know why in either case. The climbing hydrangea on the garage wall, once lush and so green it didn't look really, looks like it's hanging on for dear life now. Sigh. This is too hot.

Strangely, with the heat, over the weekend we had clouds. Don't let them fool you; it was still hot as a gray blanket. At the pool our girl is so happy, and so are we. We might have been there four or five times this week. I think I was born to be a pool bum. I think I was actually born to be a ski bum, believe it or not, but oh, right now, I love the pool so. Not that there's much bumming with a two-year-old (well, there is for Mama when Daddy's there). When he's there, I sit in the shallow water and never want to leave. My tolerance for pool time has always been high.

Back in the studio, I have an idea. Usually I have a lot of ideas and no time to work. Yesterday I had all day to work, and a bunch of party hats burst forth. So weird how that happens. I was going to do something else, actually. But then, these came out. I try to go with it. I'm thinking kit, actually. No ribbons on the hat, but elastic instead. Off to find the right kind. And poms to top.

Oaks Park comments: 51

First time at the amusement park! Cautious but confident. Went around the merry-go-round three times. Went down the big slide three times. Won two donuts and a star. Shining eyes, up for everything, so happy with what she finds of the world. and the summer. Choo-choo! Xoxo

Oaks Park, Father's Day, June 21, 2015.
One of the best days ever. I love it there.

Sweet Days comments: 46

Thank you very much for all of the comments on my last post, and for the music recommendations! I haven't had time to check them out but I plan to — thank you. Thank you also to those of you who suggested here (and emailed — my inbox is a disaster, so I can't often get back to everyone, I'm so sorry) portrait artists several months ago. I wound up having Amelia's portrait painted by Olga of Olinka Fine Art on Etsy, who I found myself while browsing Etsy for portrait artists. She did an absolutely incredible job, and was a total joy to work with. The picture I gave her (from this post) was taken a little over a year ago, but even when I took it it just looked like a painting to me, and I always meant to have it painted. I really don't know how she could have interpreted it more beautifully; I think it perfectly captures Amelia at that time and with that expression, a face I've seen a million times, tired at the end of the day, her serious, slightly melodramatic look (which I think it sort of amuses her to give), hanging out in her high chair, with the late afternoon light coming down from the west-facing windows. I love it.

We had a busy weekend, and I have more pictures, but little time! The pool is open. I find it hard to leave.

Do you like frozen custard? Try this. Crazy rich. You hardly need to eat any to be quite delighted, seriously. And I think I'm going to change that recipe so that you heat the half-and-half and the cream at the same time. Why would I have you temper the eggs with half-and-half and then add that back to the (cold) heavy cream separately? Couldn't the creams both be heated, added to eggs, then put back in the pan to heat a bit further? Trying to think of the best way not to scramble the eggs. . . . I'm no expert; please advise!

Sunshine comments: 113

Days alone with a toddler are really hard to describe. I don't know why. They're some of the absolute most exhausting and absolute most sweet days I've ever had in my life. In between those two extremes are a lot of utterly prosaic hours — the taking off of boots that are on the wrong feet; the cleaning up of water that gets carried in a soap dish to the bed; the picking up of hundreds of thousands of barrettes, doll shoes, blocks, puzzle pieces, wooden dogs, sippy cups, pieces of tape, felt pancakes, tiny saucepans, wooden boats, baby sweaters, Matchbox cars, bunny stickers, little socks, plastic wolves, and ponytail holders; the pitting of cherries and slicing of apples; the changing of diapers; the braiding of hair that's halfway down her back; the practicing of arabesques on alternate legs; the learning to skip; the learning to spin; the strapping into car seat covered in crackers; the grabbing of soy sauce bottles as they're about to be flung; the grabbing of almost everything as it's about to be flung; the recapping of markers left on the floor; the wiping of chin; the drying of tears; the putting on of Hello Kitty Band-Aids; the smothering with kisses; the getting of hugs; the taking off of pants put on backwards; the washing of dishes; the popping in of Charlie and Lola DVDs when the sun starts to sink, and all I want is a half an hour to sit and stare at the sprinkler before dinner.

She's not a stay-at-home girl. Every day, we go somewhere: the library, the bookstore, the fountain, the park, the museum, the other museum, the mall, the pool, the playground, the river, the woods, the store, a friend's house, a restaurant. We go out. She's easy. She'll go anywhere, do anything. She likes places, and parties, and people. A diaper change in the back of the car, cold milk, and some dry clothes buy us hours. She sleeps on the way home. I listen to Elizabeth Mitchell radio on Pandora and try not to sob. Children's music. I had no idea. I can't even listen to this song without bawling. I've never cried more to any music than to children's music, usually in the car while she sleeps. I look at her face in the mirror. I drive slowly down through the woods. The sunlight flashes through the trees. The birds sing up above. I drive through downtown, with the buildings and people, then back over the shimmering river, and go through the Burgerville drive-through for a fresh strawberry milkshake. It tastes like every single dream I ever had, all come true at once.

Happy, happy, happy Midsummer to you. May it be filled with everything little and sweet. Xo

Basil Fox Back in Business comments: 13

Just a quick note to let you know that dapper little Mr. Basil Fox's softie kit is back in the shop with several shirt options (even a new, 1/4" magenta gingham, which is adorable). I also added some fabric/yarn options to Maggie Rabbit (who was sold out, too, in case you were waiting for her) and Juniper Kitty. Just click on the little thumbnail photos on the product pages to see the options, and be sure to choose them from the drop-down menu when ordering!

Thank you! I'll be back soon with a post, but I'm doing some housekeeping today, so . . . working on my to-do list! :) Feels good. Xox

Bright Hot comments: 47

I have been so busy and so happy. For one thing, I cleaned part of my house (the kitchen, and some of the living room). That kept me busy and made me so happy. I tried to make a list of some other stuff I really needed to do and got very overwhelmed and confused. Eventually I did make the list but then I immediately went to the river. That made me very happy. The next day we went downtown for the parade (why do marching bands always make me cry?) and the fountain and the fair and the boats. That made me happy. The next day the weather was scorching. That made me sad! But I have air conditioning and that made me happy. There's a lot of happy/sad talk at home right now. Amelia is figuring out how to express these two things, and figuring out how other people express them (no one here has much trouble expressing themselves). Most things make us happy. A few things make us sad. When she throws a plate of strawberries that I just cut up for her on the floor (she's a big thrower, ugh), she touches my arm gently, "Mom, are you sad? You sad, Mom?" Then, she pats my arm, consoling: "It's okay. It's okay." Turning her face up to look into mine. Oh, sweet, dear love! She makes me laugh fifty or sixty times a day. I'm starting to write down so many of the funny things she is saying. I love this age so much!!!

One thing that made me unbelievably happy was getting to spend an entire day with Amanda while she was here in Portland this week. I HAD THE BEST TIME. We had a sweet little lunch at Maurice, which is like a tiny little jewel box of light and deliciousness, then just hung out at Powell's for the entire afternoon?!? Not only do I not ever do things like either of those two things anymore, but . . . with Amanda, who is as thoroughly awesome as you would expect. The girl is beauty through and through. I love her. What a great day. Thank you, Amanda, for being you, and for coming to visit. You inspire and delight and teach (and have taught) me more than I can ever say.

And today, oh! It's cool and cloudy! I panic, not sure what to do with such a perfect day! (It was in the 90s over the weekend! It was horrible!) The woods are calling. Maybe the farm. Maybe the river. Summer, you overwhelm me with goodness. Where to start?

Flowers Featured comments: 64

The sun shines, and flowers abound. We're mostly outside; occasionally we come in. I open all the windows and doors (did you know we don't have mosquitoes here?). Amelia goes to bed around seven or eight. I sew or knit. My Ramona sweater is making me HAPPY. Even though my stupid ear is still messed up. It's better, but not completely; apparently, according to the ENT doc, it can take six more weeks to clear up. I knit and knit. I cannot believe I'm actually making a big sweater. Turns out I'm not sure that an adult sweater knit in aran weight has that many more stitches than a bitty sweater knit in, say, fingering weight??? Either way, man, I am enjoying this more than I could've predicted.

I made a new Midsummer dress for my boo. I made the whole thing up myself. It was based on the first one I made for her (and more info about that one is in this post) when she was a baby boo (oh, and look how leeeeeeetle she was then!!! Sigh!!!). I'm a bit proud of it (them), I confess. The new one came out exactly the way I was hoping. Please regard the beauty of my invisible zipper. [Puff puff.] Guys, that was EEEEEEEEASY. I really had no idea. In over thirty years of sewing, I'd never put in an invisible zipper? SILLY. The bodice of this dress is fully lined. You do the embroidery before you cut the bodice pieces out. No, no stabilizer or anything like that. I don't want to make my hands do anything harder than they have to (I find stitching through anything more than linen or cotton just too hard on my wrists and fingers). I'll be doing a pattern for this. I'm a little excited.

It's just — isn't it a cool feeling when you have an idea for something and then it just turns into exactly what you were trying to do? That doesn't always happen but sometimes it does and it is cool!!!

And now, my boo is knocking on my door

and trying to get it open

so I gotta go! Have a great weekend, everybody. I hope it is filled with sunshine and flowers!

***Andy says thank you very much for all of your kind birthday wishes!!!

***The quilt under the sweater is my Ollalieberry pattern.

Birthday Beauty comments: 104

Andy had a birthday last week and I'm still glowing with happiness for what turned out to be an awesome weekend. I "surprised" him with a couple of nights at the river cabin and a trip up the mountain for breakfast. I say "surprise" because I forgot to tell pretty much everyone else it was a surprise, and he woke up on his birthday to his phone blowing up with sweet texts, several of which said something like, "Happy Birthday, Andy! Have fun at the cabin this weekend!" He's all, Um, honey, what cabin? Oooopsie. Oh, sweet love, it was the best. Amelia sauntered around, free and excited and happy and big and loud and thrilled and thrilling. I sat and listened to the river, and watched the sun move, and smelled the pine. Andy crocheted (that's his squirrel head, Marty — Andy is such an amazing crocheter — he's cagey about his Ravelry page — I will get details) and chased Meems and threw rocks in the river. We had breakfast at beloved Timberline on Sunday morning and hiked a little way up the path behind the lodge, from which you can see a stunning view of Mt. Jefferson peeking above the valley (camera cannot capture the panorama here). On Monday morning we woke up to rain splashing the river. Everything so green. Birds singing. Flowers blooming. Baby marching. What a great weekend. Happy Birthday, my dear, sweet, amazing, wonderful, lovely, exceptional Andy Paulson. My true love. Happy, happy, happy birthday. I love you. Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo