little lovely house

Look what came in the mail!

This beautiful creation was stitched by Melissa Crowe. ("Hem," she explained, means "home" in Swedish.)

I hung it up within minutes of opening the package. Here it is on my kitchen wall.

To see more of Melissa's work, visit her Etsy shop, Little Pink House.

Just in case you're not familiar with Etsy: it's a very cool website on which artists set up "shops" to sell handmade items--everything from paintings to clothing to furniture. Other proprietors sell vintage goods. I discovered Etsy just a few months ago and am completely hooked. It's like a giant virtual craft fair/art show that never closes! I really enjoy the opportunity to buy unique items while supporting an independent artist. It's so much more personal a transaction than ordering from a big company (although my J. Crew addiction is still going strong).

Melissa's beautiful embroidery hoops and "paintings" feature

houses of all sorts,

as well as gorgeous portraits,

composed of wool felt in luscious colors and finished with exquisite embroidery.

The details are amazing.

Melissa also has a wonderfully-written blog in which she writes about her work and family. Her life sounds like a movie plot (although I realize that it probably doesn't always feel like one when lived day-to-day). She describes herself as a "recovering academic," saying that she "went to college for eleven years to become a professor of literature and creative writing" and then changed her mind. As a probably terminal academic, I admire the courage that must have been required to make such a decision. She says that she moved to a town "where artists live" and hopes to become one. It's clear that she's already succeeded.

dampening the spirits

Oh my goodness, it has been raining here in Boston for days and days, and that is no exaggeration. My friend, Celeste, noted tonight that she hasn't bothered getting a pedicure because sandal weather seems nowhere in sight.

I don't mind rain now and then, especially late-night full-fledged storms that drum on the roof and make one feel cozy lying in bed. What we've been experiencing is the annoying kind of rain, a constant drizzle that makes umbrellas seem like overkill yet permeates everything with unpleasant dampness. I fear we'll start sprouting mushrooms from our jackets and shoes soon.

Here are my top objections to the unending rain:

1. My hair grows more and more frizzy as the day goes by, such that by evening it forms a shapeless, fuzzy cloud around my head.
2. The worms come out.
3. My apartment has been invaded by fruit flies. (I'm convinced that the rain is to blame because I've read that fruit flies like to reproduce in soggy material, which basically describes the whole city at present). I worked in a fruit fly lab as an undergraduate, and I think the fruit flies are now seeking retribution for the many relatives that I, er, sacrificed.
4. Riding the bus or T with damp seats and everyone's dripping umbrellas is no fun.
5. I can't take my kitties for walks. (Yes, I really do that. On a leash, like a puppy.)
6. We don't even have stunningly beautiful teen-aged vampires as compensation.

what do the fancy folk know?

Since moving to Boston, I have seen bags like this everywhere:

Because of their ubiquity, and the fact that they always seemed to be on the shoulder of well-dressed, well-groomed women (such as my friend, Courtney), I figured they must be from some high-status luxury brand, but I couldn't figure out which one. I couldn't think of a tactful way to ask, "Excuse me, but was your bag expensive, and what brand is it"

Then lately, for the first time, I accompanied my friend, Celeste, into a Longchamp store, and the mystery was solved. The entire back wall was covered with an array of these bags in a variety of sizes and colors.

At first I thought that my ignorance meant Longchamp wasn't doing a good enough job of advertising. Then it occurred to me that I likely just don't read the magazines of the target demographic. And finally, I've decided that the absence of the brand from more common (in both senses of the word) advertising media probably adds to the aura of exclusivity.

As we browsed through the store, Celeste disclosed that she uses a Longchamp bag (in a different style) for work.

"Wow, that must have been expensive!" I blurted. Sometimes tact doesn't win out; it may have been the result of inhaling all those expensive leather fumes.

"Well, yes," she said, "just like your bag."

She was referring to a patent leather Dooney & Burke tote that I received from my parents last year for graduation. You see, I'm far from immune to the allure of shiny, fancy, expensive bags. Fortunately, I haven't so far been tempted by a Longchamp bag.

"But that was a gift!" I protested!

"So was mine," she said. "A gift to myself."

introducing maisie

This cutie-pie is Maisie Frances Nakamura.

As you can see, she is gray and white with a pale pink nose and round, golden eyes.

Actually, she is rather round all over, with striking gray patches on her back and a curling, fluffy gray tail.

I adopted Maisie quite recently, on November 13, 2008, from the Boston MSPCA Adoption Center where I volunteer. I didn't plan to adopt a second kitty. In fact, doing so was not a practical decision since I'd learned just a few months before that Isabel has a chronic illness (more on that in a later post).

Maisie charmed me, however, with her sweet disposition and clever mind. We first met because she had figured out how to free herself from her enclosure and was escaping on a nightly basis. I found her wandering around free in the cat room and asked who she was. Emily, one of the shelter staff, explained that Maisie had learned to remove the window of her cat condo (even after they started putting tape over the latches).

I told my mom about her because I was so impressed by her intelligence, and my mom jokingly said, "You should adopt that cat!" I just laughed at the time. I went back to visit Maisie and found her to be cute and gentle and playful, but I still wasn't ready to adopt her. Then she took matters into her own hands (paws?). When I went to a back room to wash my hands, she freed herself and came to find me, and I decided then that we were meant to be together.

In addition to being really smart, Maisie is unflappable. She was brought to the shelter as a stray, so her life hasn't always been easy, but she seems to believe that the world is a benevolent place, and she's always eager to explore it. She's never bitten or scratched, and I've never heard her hiss. She was a model patient at her first vet visit. She even sits calmly on my lap while I trim her claws.

Although Maisie is the most laid-back cat I've ever encountered, she has her passions, too. She loves to play and is often reckless in her pursuit of a ball, careening into furniture or walls. She is impetuous in her curiosity and will jump up to the most precarious, high perches to explore.

Perhaps most of all, Maisie is passionate about food. She seems always to be hungry. She's generally a very quiet kitty except at mealtimes, when she meows joyfully as I set down her bowl of food, or at times when she thinks meals are overdue, when she meows mournfully and with increasing desperation. Interestingly enough, I've discovered by accident that her favorite foods are baked goods: muffins, cupcakes, scones. If Maisie were a human, she'd grow up to be a pastry chef. (But don't worry--her primary diet is her vet-approved cat food, and she receives human food only in tiny quantities as a treat.)

If you know Isabel or have read my post about her, you may notice that Isabel and Maisie couldn't be more opposite in every way but their intelligence, yet I love them so much in all of their differences. I guess that's how it goes with children, whether human or feline or any other kind.

creative endeavors

I've decided to learn embroidery! I've done cross-stitching before but never embroidery; I'm not exactly sure why. I think I was intimidated because embroidery seems so free-form with so many different stitches to learn. It seemed too complicated compared to cross-stitching, which, as its name indicates, really just consists of

1. make a row: xxxxxxxxxx
2. now make another row: xxxxxxxxxxxxx
3. and then another row: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx . . . .

Nothing too scary or difficult. But as a result, I admit, sometimes boring. (I think there's a life metaphor here.)

Lately I've been intrigued by embroidery for the very reason that it is so free-form and varied. The potential to create unique and beautiful images seems vast.

Also, like a lot of people, I suspect, I used to perceive embroidery as a rather limited and dowdy art form, but lately I've been running across images like this:

by Stephen Campbell

Is that not totally cool? I've a newfound appreciation for how modern and cool and expressive embroidery can be.

So I've decided to try to learn, and I purchased this kit from an indie company called Sublime Stitching.

The company's founder, Jenny Hart, wanted to "revitalize the craft of hand embroidery" and to provide "edgy" embroidery patterns as an alternative to "bunny-n-duckie[s]" and "geese in bonnets." She also sought to provide clear instructions for "a new generation of crafters." The company's slogan is "This ain't your gramma's embroidery!"

She's apparently succeeded in making embroidery approachable and appealing to the (often younger) masses. In addition to the kits, patterns, and supplies available from the Sublime Stitching web store, she has an entire line of books and kits produced by the fantastic Chronicle Books. Her first book sold out. Stitchers who've used her designs submit photos of their creations to a gallery on the Sublime Stitching website.

Wish me luck, and if my first project, a tea towel, turns out okay, I'll post a picture!

magic

This is Tide to Go instant stain remover:

I started using it soon after it first came out because I get stains on my clothing all too often. (Usually food. This may have something to do with the fact that I snack almost constantly). It was pretty much love-at-first-stain-removal.

I decided to write about Tide to Go as a sort of public service announcement, just in case you haven't tried it before. I endorse it wholeheartedly. (Note that this is not a paid endorsement; I think Proctor & Gamble would choose a blog with a bit more traffic.) It should have a place in your life. It is amazing!

The package cautions that it "Does not work well on: Grease, Blood, Ink." For once, this is a product that under-promises and over-delivers. I have found that it works quite well on all of those things. It's the only stain remover I've found that eliminates ball point pen marks from fabric.

I keep a Tide to Go in my desk drawer at work, and I used it just yesterday to (very successfully) get chocolate ice cream out of my capri pants. It works so well that I use it at home, too, often instead of my full-sized bottle of stain remover. It must contain some sort of revolutionary solvent because stains seem to just disappear as you saturate them with the Tide to Go liquid and then dab them with the adsorbent applicator.

Lest you hesitate to try Tide to Go based on my opinion alone, you should know that P&G has an entire website devoted to this product. Customers leave personal testimonials about how Tide to Go has saved their date/wedding/important business meeting; these tales often seem to involve white clothing and either berries or red wine. Amusingly enough, you can sift through the stories using search terms such as the article of clothing and type of stain involved.

P&G also apparently hosted a make-your-own commercial contest on You Tube. The commercials feature talking stains and the slogan "Silence the stain." In my favorite one, a homely hillbilly, Ned, who's about to go courtin' a girl is plagued by a derisive barbecue stain on his shirt that laughs at him and scoffs at his chances of gettin' the girl. Tide to Go not only banishes the stain but also suddenly gives him movie star looks. You can also audition to be the talking stain. (Really. Go check it out.) Tide to Go has an ardent fan base!

P&G describes Tide to Go as a "portable stain-removing pen." "Magic wand" would also be accurate.

spotted in real life

Have you ever seen doggie boots in a pet product catalog? I have because I'm unable to resist looking through practically any catalog that's left in my mailbox, but I never thought I'd come across a real life dog wearing boots.

While talking home in the drizzle today, however, here's what I saw:

A dog wearing purple rain boots!

The dog looked perfectly content and not at all bothered by her footwear. I was intensely curious about the dog and her owner. Did the dog have a marked aversion to getting her feet wet? Or was this all the owner's idea and the dog was just good-natured and willing to put up with it?

In the interest of full disclosure, this isn't a photo of the actual dog that I saw. I didn't think quickly enough to ask if I could take a picture, and I only had my iPhone with me, which probably would have taken poor photos in the waning light.

Someday I aspire to carry my real camera with me everywhere and take all sorts of fabulous, spontaneous pictures for this blog. So far I've only gotten as far as buying the camera. Next I need to get a memory card (so that the camera can store more than 11 photos at a time) and read the manual.

in memoriam

I think I may have mortally wounded the feelings of my Dustbuster, and I really mean mortally. The poor thing's motor died tonight.

You see, even though my Dustbuster has served me well for the past five or six years, I've been admiring this fancy new Hoover hand vacuum:

(NB: It's not really five times bigger than my Dustbuster; I just haven't learned how to resize images yet.)

Hoover has been running an aggressive magazine ad campaign for this hand vacuum and its siblings, together named the Platinum line. I've been totally sucked in by the ads. (Oops--unintended bad pun alert!) The insidious feature of advertising, I find, is that knowing you're being sucked in still doesn't prevent it from happening. I haven't actually bought one of these hand vacuums because they're quite expensive, but I've yearned for one. As is well known by any person who has one or more cats and therefore keeps one or more litter boxes, owning some sort of convenient, lightweight, portable vacuum is essential unless you wish to spend your life with cat litter particles stuck to your feet.

Although I detest cleaning, I often ogle cleaning products and tools. I guess I'm searching for some fabulous, magical product that will make cleaning enjoyable, and while I know that such a thing doesn't really exist and probably never will, the hope doesn't die.

Unlike my poor Dustbuster. Thank you, dear Dustbuster, for your steadfast service.

a shared convalescence

I stopped on the way home from work to buy food for Maisie. As I left the animal hospital, I saw a dignified golden retriever limping out the door, wearing a cast on his right front leg and an Elizabethan collar. (This isn't really his photo--his coat had more rusty tones--but the cast was even red!) His owner, a tall, lanky man in jeans, limped along beside him, wearing a brace on his left lower leg.

I tried to imagine what might have befallen them. (I'm too shy to just ask.) Suffered a car accident together? Struck by a car together while out for a walk? Slipped down wet front steps together? Of course, their injuries might be unrelated, but that would be a far less interesting story.

In any case, at least as they recover, they can hobble along together.

superlatives

Sign posted on the door of one of my patients:

Congratulations! (This word was crossed out; guess the author changed her mind about the message.)

Hi A______

You are the best sister that I've ever had before!

Love,

K_______

I hope that A_____ is K______'s only sister.

compensation

Today I went to see one of my patients, a little girl who's at the delightful age of old enough to be wonderfully articulate but not old enough to be socially inhibited. I'd introduced myself to her mom and her the day yesterday, but I'm one of an endless rotation of doctors and other healthcare staff who visit each day.

When she spied me alcohol-gelling my hands at her door, she called out: "Hey, are you coming in here?"

"Yes, I am!" I said.

I spoke with her mom, then chatted with her as I examined her. As I finished and headed out, her mom murmured, "Now, remember your manners."

Dutifully, she said, "Thank you," followed by, "Good-bye."

Then as I exited, she leaned close to her mom and loudly whispered, "Who is she?"

This is why I love pediatrics, even through on some days, like today, I get home after 10 p.m.