Felt haters, this is just not the blog for you. Felt lovers, rejoice. Some more lovelies for the upcoming craft show. 

And these were crafted by Ashley at last night’s church craft night. Though I’m making some for the craft fair, her’s were particularly photo-worthy.

(They’re smaller than a dime.)

My brain has been humming with ideas for the the upcoming Christmas craft fair I am in, though I can’t really take credit for these “soap stones”–I got the idea on Etsy. They are bars of soap that I felted around. Once they dry, you use them as normal soap (and get some quality exfoliation), and the felt shrinks even more around it. Pretty sure I’m going to have to keep one for myself.

http://www.designspongeonline.com/2009/10/diy-project-chelas-fabric-screen.html

Can’t wait to make one for our bathroom window (it’s small!) later this winter when I’m bound to get sew crazy.

You know when you experience something so great that you have to tell everyone you know? It happened with this chowder, so I’m posting the recipe (as I’ve modified it over the past few tries). It’s rainy and cold here, so there’s nothing like coming home to this.

Potato Corn Chowder, Jessica Franks style

In morning, put the following into a crockpot on low for 8 hours:
–about 3 pounds cut up red potatoes
–a 16 oz. bag of frozen corn
–a can of cream corn
–a can of cream of chicken
–a little bit more than one can of water
–7 strips cooked bacon and some of the grease
–salt and pepper

Just before serving, add
–a can of evaporated milk for yummy creaminess.

And you’re done! Bill likes to melt shredded cheddar cheese on top. For us, this makes two dinners plus leftovers depending how hungry we are.

I can’t wait for round two tonight! After, I think I’m going to make some no-bake Cowboy Crunchies:
Melt 2 cups butterscotch chips, then stir in a quarter cup peanut butter. Add 3.5 cups cornflakes and place dollops on wax paper. Let cool.

(A pic from our anniversary trip cabin in the Catskills.)

A year ago this weekend I married my best friend…I love you babe. To quote Nick Drake, “If you weren’t real, I would make you up.”  To quote the neurotic starfish in Charlie the Unicorn, “I want to be with you forever!” To quote Nacho Libre, “It’s fantastic.”

Back when two friends (whose names I will protect) and I started “Pray for a Man Nights,” I had no idea who you were or what to expect. All we three girls knew was that we wanted to be married to men who loved Jesus, loved us, and were moderately good looking–at least in our opinion. And so we prayed (of course, these nights also involved junkfood and chick flicks—we love you Barbara!). 

A year later God, in His perfect timing, answered my request (especially that third part). And I’ve learned much since then…

I’ve learned that you, Bill, are the funniest guy I’ve ever met, even if you keep telling me other people don’t think so–I don’t really care. I’ve also learned that those hills I wanted to stake a flag and die on aren’t always worth fighting for. Forgive me for machine gunning you down sometimes. I suppose you’ve taught me to care a bit less about my plans, and I’ve taught you to care a bit more. I think I’ve learned that it was a good thing to marry someone so different from me…we balance each other and bring new perspectives in decisions and discussions. Not to mention the fact that I now know what a Stargate is, and you now know how to felt, that Nickel Creek is not a body of water, and that watching Super Bowls can be fun.

So to quote Iron & Wine, “I have to speculate / That God himself did make us into / Corresponding shapes like puzzles pieces / From the clay.”

http://www.nytimes.com/indexes/2009/10/04/style/t/index.html#pageName=04lace

Last weekend we got out of the city and met up with both our families at Old Sturbridge Village, similar to Old Williamsburg in Virginia or Plimoth Plantation. Growing up, both families went there all the time, and Bill and I joke that we probably were there on the same day some time in our childhood.

This day was gorgeous and sunny, with wood fire stoves, big dresses, yarn dying, farm animals, cheese curds, apple cider making and quill pens abounding. And when the plowing demonstration allowed people to try it out, Bill was on it. My little plaid shirted farmer…

“This is going on the blog!” I shouted as he plowed. Sorry honey.

Jon did well too.

“We are not amused.”

We met an 1800’s family!

Doesn’t my mom look like the perfect 1800’s mom?

Perhaps the most exciting thing of the day was finding out I’m allergic to apples. Mom made amazing caramel apples for lunch there. And then my throat decided to swell nearly shut. Thankfully, Beth Mission is a walking medicine cabinet, and had Benadryl strips in her purse that kept things from becoming an emergency situation. From here on out, it’s cooked apples only for me.

I just found at that, by not using air conditioning this summer, we chopped $276 off our electric bill as compared to last summer. I complained the whole way and envied those who used their units–I was far from a noble sufferer (ask Bill). Cold showers before going to bed are not pleasant, and only somewhat helpful in lowering one’s temperature. I even slept with an ice pack one night.

But now that it’s over, I can at least sound really positive about the whole experience. We saved a substantial amount of money. We lowered our energy consumption. I’d like to think I’m a tougher person for the ordeal (Bill was fine the entire time–heat doesn’t  bother him, especially after surviving Marines boot camp in South Carolina in the summer). I grew a new appreciation for going to work–since it was air conditioned. And probably most of all, I’m exponentially more grateful to the Creator of the seasons for making this summer a relatively mild one.

Now bring on Autumn. I’ve got a pocketfull of money to spend on sweaters!

Autumn is my favoritest season. My September 1^st is another child’s December 24^th. I look forward to Fall that much, and made sure to get married in it. Of course, the other seasons are nice, too. Winter in New England brings stark, barren beauty to the countryside. Spring inspires me to garden and clean. Summer beaches lure me with promise of do-nothing days finished off by a nice tan. But Autumn…

Autumn means amazing views. Quaint towns with tall white steeples shaded by oranges, yellows and reds. Historic buildings looking even more historic. Sweeping dappled hills. Early sunsets turning the side of a red barn peach. Morning frosts outlining the warm-hued leaves with blues from the opposite side of the color wheel. Pumpkins, bittersweet and mums everywhere. Autumn in the city is nice, but it’s got nothing on the country.

Autumn means intoxicating smells. Outdoor bonfires, pumpkin pie, pine, spicy things, grass and oranges (autumn was always soccer season), leaves, and apple cider. Autumn means delicious food, too, with the harvest still fresh for the eating.

Autumn means the best activities. Like I said, it was always soccer season. But it is also the start of school (I loved school), trips to Old Sturbridge Village, crafting warm things, craft fairs, apple picking, pumpkin picking, bonfires, foliage hikes, and raking, raking and more raking. Come to think of it, raking wasn’t all that fun. But jumping in the piles was.

Autumn means warm clothes. Tweeds, woolens, leathers, velvets. Which can be summed up visually by my favorite leaf-time movie, Anne of Avonlea. Notice the season in which Anne and Gilbert finally confess their love. Coincidence? I think not.

What’s your favorite aspect of autumn?

It was this day in 2007 that I moved into the Crafton’s living room and began city living (I was baptized immediately: when unloading the car I set down a plastic box on the sidewalk, and when I moved it off their sofa later on that day realized I had transferred chewing gum from the cement to the couch). And now, 2 years later, I’m going to try to quantify what 730 days here has meant to me (in some cases, numbers are approximate).

0 complete wipeouts subway surfing (a few close calls and falls into the bodies of strangers).

0 times I’ve beat Bill at chess

1 time I came close

1 best job in the city

1 mugging at Union Square

1 fab apartment, 3 fab roommates

1 proposal in central park, 3 other attempts

1 new husband (can I get a what what!?!)

1 craft fair and one resulting teaching gig at the Cooper Hewitt

1 pair of skinny jeans (I totally caved on this one. I swore them off, and then ended up buying a pair within 1 month of moving here. Cue Debbie Gibson track. Sarah warned me it would happen.)

1 potentially dangerous confrontation with a subway thug (I’m sorry, but if we’re pulling into a station, don’t make me let go of the bar just so you can get ahead of me. I’m not falling over for you.)

1 fainting episode on a commute, 9 EMT’s rush to my aid

1 biking trip up the west coast of Manhattan

1 novacaine shot in the nostril (may that be the only time it ever, ever happens)

1 viewing of cardboard tubes fight club in McCarren Park (complete with spiked cardboard armor)

1 pair of commuting shoes (Privo all the way)

1 time I was told I have beautiful eyes by a strange man

1 time I was told I have beautiful feet by a strange man (huh?)

2 flights of stairs to get to apartment with resulting thighs of steel

2 matching puffy vests for Bill and I

2 deaths of close coworkers (Lynn from cancer, Pearl in a tragic accident)

3 mice

3 car rentals (not bad for 2 years without a car)

3 blocks from the neighborhood dealing with a toxic groundwater seepage problem, compliments of the local factories

4 subway doors shut on me

4 walking history tours

5 Williamsburg Church locations

6 times I’ve purchased more at the grocery store than I am actually capable of carrying home comfortably

7 games of Settlers of Catan played (3 won)

8 viewings of Anne of Green Gables

9 movie sets on the corner of Manhattan Ave and Driggs

9 sewing projects

10 falafel sandwiches at Oasis, and almost as many Empanada Mama visits

11 visits to Junk

12 near hits by a motor vehicle

15 subway acts worth forking over spare change for (A magician had a rabbit and a sparrow with him last week. My favorite was the gymnasts.)

24 trips to Connecticut to see family

30 or less books read (to my chagrin). Highest recommended: Peace Like a River, by Leif Enger. Most proud of finishing: Anna Karenina. Favorite author: P.G. Wodehouse (“He was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and had forgotten to say “when!”).

40 felts

50 coffee coolattas (back in Dunkin Donuts country, baby!)

80 This is not a quantity, but merely the decade most fashion around here is drawing inspiration from. Bleck.

120 balls hit at the driving range during my first golfing outing

132 listens to Sufjan Stevens’ “For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti.” Makes me want to learn the banjo.

450 bunches of fruit for us to eat brought into the office by my super cool editor nearly every morning

500 subway commutes, myriads more rides to other locations

764 fliers I’ve been assaulted by while walking on the sidewalk. And I can’t even count the number of times summer fundraising groups have tried to mow me over petitioning for funds for this organization or that politician. Seriously, this isn’t a friendly, “Hi!” They literally stand in your path and heckle you to stop. It borders on illegal.

1,000 miles walked (at least), 15 or so of those run in rain or thunderstorms without an umbrella

1 million flu germs avoided with my “subway system”: my left hand holds grody poles and doors,  my right hand brushes away hair, uses the cell phone, etc. The left hand is not allowed to touch anything else until I’ve washed my hands. 

So it’s been an interesting 104 weeks, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. This place can be weird, exciting, frustrating, depressing, energizing, bewildering, inspiring. It’s holds all the emotions you might experience elsewhere, but in seemingly bigger dimensions, like its buildings. It’s taught me much–you just never know what you are going to stumble upon in NY. Literally. The neighborhood dogs make sure of that.