Learning technology: Techie me? Not!

I'm still learning what can be done with my digital camera, Picasa, and Blogspot. I'm trying for a collage shot of the hat I just finished.

(To see the hat a little better, click on the pictures, and mouse over the picture on the next screen. It gets a little bigger). I think I will need to post three separate pictures though.

June 26, 2006: Stuff you might not know.

Did you know...

~You can make the photos on the blog much bigger by simply clicking on them? They will show up in a separate window, and you will have a "print" or "email" option for that picture available at that point too.

~You can also email any of the blogs to anyone you want to! Just click on the little envelope at the end of each blog and it will send the blog off to whoever you wish to share it with.
Easy-peasy! (That is my new favorite expression!)

(Feel free to blast them to your whole email address book! Imagine how many of your friends, even now, are desperately wishing someone, anyone, would send them a picture of a gecko, or a fine cocktail hat! YOU could be the person to help them realize that dream!)

~You can also leave a comment: It just takes a moment to create an account (it is free) and then you can add your two cents/praise/dismay or whatever after each blog. Your comment is emailed to me, and then I get to "allow" or not allow the comment to be posted.
Added bonus: you will then be signed up to make a blog for yourself any time you want. Knowing my readership, my mind just reels with the array of blog topics that this simple act could enable.

~The blog page shows my last 10 blogs on the side of the page.
But actually, ALL of them are still there. Going back to June 1, 2006.
If you click on the bottom archived title (usually mine either say Millinery or a date), then that blog will open and to its side will be ten more going back. If you are new reader, June 1 is my introduction page, and June 2 is my all time favorite so far.

~Top bloggers, those people who have lots and lots of people who read their blogs sometimes get contacted by publishing houses to have their blogs made into books.
(I'm rooting for "Dressaday" to become a book, she is a riot! and is in the top 10 of all blogs!).
If that ever happens to me, I will be sure to acknowledge each and everyone of my naggy "you should write a book" friends in the book.
But if you don't keep up with my blog, you won't be on the list.
At all.
So there.

And remember to cheer for my dear OSU Beavers to win college baseball tonight!

Millinery: Black Hats

The first hat (viewed from the side): The hat that started it all! It was purchased from Fleur de Paris http://www.fleurdeparis.net in New Orleans. A signed Nicole LeBlanc design, I was lucky enough to meet her and view her work shop later on. Feathers, ribbons, flowers, a curving brim and a whopping price tag, it had it all. It seemed like such an enormous statement that at first B. hesitated to have me wear it to events, imagining that it was just too much.

He got over that.

Waaaaaayyyyy over that.

He now considers it one of my more discreet chapeauxs.
It is the only hat I have ever worn to a funeral. Or actually, a memorial service. I was in need of a deep brim to shield my teary face. I began to understand why for centuries women have worn veils to funerals and other emotional occasions: No one really looks great when overcome with emotion to the degree that tears and mucus and blotchy spots festoon one's face.
Jackie Kennedy was so right to shield her face in that deep veil.

This, by contrast, is a black hat that would simply never work at a funeral...indeed, it is what is known as a cocktail hat. Cocktail hats perch jauntily on the crown of one's head, perhaps tipped a bit over one eye, and look as wispy as a passing flitation.
Certainly not correct for a funeral event.
I made this hat, and have enjoyed wearing it to several evening events.
The third hat was an ebay purchase. It really doesn't work on me, but many twenty something girls have modeled it with great saucy style.
People are funny: Children especially so. How many times have I shown a child, somewhere between 8 and 18, these black hats and had them inform me that these hats are "perfect" to wear to a funeral. And alarmingly, how many seemingly estute adults have instructed me with the same degree of brevity, that these black hats would "look really great" for a funeral.
Now I wonder if when I was wearing my Little Black Dress with my cocktail hat at a cocktail party, if everyone imagined I had just come from a sad event, and hadn't time to change.
I didn't wear a hat at all to the last memorial service I attended. Just a long sleeved black silk dress. But I couldn't help notice a twenty-something "Miss" wearing a T- shirt with sequines and flip flops, and other Young Thing in a clinging dress cut "down to here and up to there" in a style that suggested amorous encounters with strangers, for her, was a common occurance.
I wonder what they would have said if I had shown them a black hat?

June 21, 2006: Geckos and Travelers and Surgery...oh my!

The first day of summer zipped by without acknowledgement here at Jill's World. I have a good excuse: B. had surgery that day.
A Transureathral Resection of Prostate.
AKA: a "TURP".

Google it for all the details!

RN daughter Laura assured us it was "not a big deal...just really uncomfortable for the first day, then it gets better".

She herself had previously chosen to spend the first day of summer traveling to SF, and on to Boston, with an old friend. Goal: To continue checking off states she has visited. I believe she is closing in on 50.

I figured it was not going to be too bad. And it actually wasn't, unless you count the part where the Doctor forgot to write orders for a med pump, leaving B. fresh out of surgery with nothing more than two Vicodine tablets to relieve pain. The Doctor had finished the surgery and headed out for a two hour lunch, while B. sweated and gritted his teeth in pain.
Pain IS optional. That is why during the pre-op appointment B. went over the fact that he wanted a med pump, to self deliver pain killers every ten minutes, instead of having tablets, which would show up when the nurse had the time. Tablets are what you take if you want the pain option. Med pump is what you want if you wish to opt OUT of the pain.

Several of us in the family have had enough surgery to know what it is like waiting in pain for a tablet, and waiting another 30 minutes for the tablet to take effect. It is NOT the way to manage pain.
The doctor readily agreed to a med pump.

Grrrrr....... Doctors: They readeth not, neither do they write, apparently.

This doctor, who we actually like, later passed blame: oh the nurses didn't get it right.
Since I stood with the nurse as she called to pharmacy to try to get the "promised" meds, I happen to know it wasn't the nurse's fault.
Plus I happen to know ****for a fact*** that nurses are not allowed to write prescriptions.
Only doctors can do that.
Then he blamed pharmacy for taking so long.
Yeah, they did take another two hours once the prescription was written. B. had almost five hours of pain with nothing more than what I am usually given for dental surgery, and I am much smaller than B.

I repeat:
Doctors: They readeth not, neither do they write.

Speaking of dentist: My last visit to a dentist (one that I really, really like), the dentist shot meds into me that caused a reaction. Since I have told him of the effects epinephrine has on me (I shake, cry, my slow heart quadruples in rate, and I am wasted the rest of the day), he usually is excellent at working quickly on me to complete the work before I loose numbness.

This last visit, he shot "epi" into me as we were chatting, and I felt it hit. I immediately said "did you give me epi?" and started the meltdown. And he felt so bad. Apologized profusely.

But also said I should have reminded him.
Really!
OK then. I surely will remind him next time. Or is that "surly" will?

I imagine saying next visit:
"Doc. R., I know that this fact is in my chart, but since I am now aware that you are a functional illiterate, and are either unable or unwilling to READ my chart, (causing me to presume that using "Books on Tape" can now lead to a doctorate of dentistry) , I just want to remind you: NO EPINEPHRINE!"

Or words to that effect...

B. had two nights at the hospital. We watched a massive storm come in from the room on the fifth floor, quite a view. And I stayed with him, to help, and I stitched. See "In the Pink" below.

B. is home now, and just a bit sore. Tiggie is with him, and in classic cat psychic fashion, has gently layed his paw on B.'s lower abdomen several times, and looked at B. with questioning eyes as only a cat can do.

The gecko? He and his friends are now hanging out on the walls of our front porch at night, eating bugs, and reminding us that summer has truly arrived.

Millinery: In the Pink

Two full days of stitching. First time I've made fuschias and this style of rose.
My left arm got sore from the work!
I just got a "hankering" (a word I heard an old Texan use today) to work in pink. The vintage glass berries were found in Rice Village Universal Fabric store. They are like the berries on one of the hats my Mom wore when I growing up...I loved the quiet jingle sound the berries used to make. I still have a way to go, plus block a straw hat. Must decide color before I order the blank hat body~pink, rose, berry, ice?
And make more filler leaves and stuff.

Millinery: A perfect yellow hat

Daphne style hat, yellow linen. Created for Gayle, to coordinate with the outfit shown on her.

Millinery: Collaboration

This is the piece Gayle and I collaborated on while listening to music, talking and watching the rain.
It is about six inches in diameter.
 

June 20, 2006: All puppies and popsicles here!

I am so glad to have my computer back. That old human need hierarchy of food, shelter, sex, well, add an internet connection to my needs.

Or as Bernie put it: "Are you a little cranky because of internet withdrawal?"

A little???? No, a lot!

So, I am much happier now!

To catch up on stuff: Yeah, Houston got clocked, and will probably get some more rain today. The dry stream bed in the garden is puddled, and the sun is streaming through the trees, making the garden look rather magical. It is sunny out, which I am told will cause more rain later... blah blah blah....Locals on the 8's.

I wonder how many people know what that expression means?

I've watched enough meteorology since coming to Texas that I should have course work credit just from listening to Dr. Greg Forbes.

I stayed up till almost 3 AM last night, because I was having so much fun with Picasa. It is a Google based program that lets me edit, enhance and organize my pictures, and make folders and slideshows. I wish I could put my all cat slide show here. And my millinery slide show. There may be a way to do that...I am still learning,

The Great News is that my friend said her doctor agreed with Laura...the cancer is small, and they are not even sure what exactly it is, but will just watch it for 3 months. PTL! My friend thinks Laura should just get the PHD after her name for this. It is ~lovely~ having someone in the family who knows the inside story on medical stuff!

I was supposed to go to Dallas last weekend to see a woman's hat collection. She collects from mid 1800 to early 1900's and was to show us (Houston Hat Net and Dallas Hat Band) her private collection at a tea.

But, on Saturday morning, hail and sever storms threatened.

So Gayle and I hunkered down and made millinery trim, and listened to Messianic music while it rained. Is there anything nicer than a day with a friend when your plans got cancelled, so you aren't scheduled to do anything at all???? Like an oasis in the rush of life. See the pictures in the next entry above.

Two interesting discoveries:

1: Another blog has published a picture of my Midnight Sun hat! Wow. How random is that!

2. And I am loving this blog: http://www.dressaday.com/dressaday.html

I am laughing out loud at her writing and loving her collection of dresses. She publishes a dress every day, usually from the 1950's. I stole her line from today:

"Oh, it's not all puppies and popsicles here at A Dress A Day headquarters. Not everything that rolls off the assembly line gets worn, or even looked at without a shudder".

This, with a photo of a really awful attempt at a dress, a sewing calamity.

I hope someone make a real book out of her blog!

Millinery: Sarah Beth

The hat I designed under the inspiration of my friend Apple's daughter's nuptuals.

I want to redo the hat frame, but I love the flowers!

A few more flowers, in a brooch

Millinery: Rainy Day and Flowers

A quick post: Houston is flooded, B. called me from Chicago to let me know this! All is fine in Kingwood.

The hat pictured is again using the Daphne pattern, and the three minute rose...

And hurray...I'm back on MY computer, but only for a minute before I head for work!

Blown modems and perfect hats

It's June 15th tonight.

Flag day (June 14th) was spent BORED TO DEATH at the library. Most fun was getting updates via cell phone about the duck and five baby ducks that showed up on my Mom's doorstep on her birthday. Easter bunny, birthday duck????

Thanks to all my friends who emailed mom!

I am still using B.'s slow typing laptop, so no pictures,

because.....

I have spent about 3 hrs. on the phone with my cable provider, explained that we had a REALLY BIG STORM and my internet is down. FOR THREE HOURS I have been clicking through screens with the online support team, bought a new cable because "they" said I must have a bad cable

(cable might be bad? HUH? oh well, anything to make them happy...)

and FINALLY they say: "HAVE YOU HAD A STORM RECENTLY?

Me: Yes, I said that already a few times.

THEM: OH, well, you probably have a blown modem then. We'll have a technician out to give you a new one.

Me: OK. Any idea when this might happen?

THEM: NO.

SO...I spent the day at home with the cats waiting for a technician, who never called or showed up.

Finished Gayle's hat, my first ever "commission", and it looks so great! (is it enough that I live near Humble, and so therefore I don't have to BE humble?)

And once the "technician" shows up, I will post a picture, of the hat from beginning, and done, and maybe on Gayle herself.

June 13th, 2006

Today I learned a lot.

I learned that the elephants at the Houston zoo are very smart. They have been trained to bring any item that has been tossed into their enclosure to their keepers ( six keepers, three elephants). In return, the keeper gives the elephant a treat. One day one of the elephants had a little extra time and brain power available. So she dismantled the enclosure's light fixture, and spent the day bringing the resulting pieces to her keeper, one by one, in trade for treats. This was reported in our Houston Chronicle.

I learned that I would love to throw a party in honor of my Mom, who turned 80 years young today. Being half a continent away from her, and having my friends, (whom I would wish to gather together for such an event), scattered across the world, makes a party out of the question. Sometimes I do wish I had a private jet and could swoop up everyone and we could go party together. My friends would love each other! They would adore my mom.

Maybe wanting a jet makes me only 65% rich.

I learned that a virtual party has its own special charm. That sending an email asking my friends to send a message to my mom, ( most have never met my mom), resulted in a cascade of greetings and birthday wishes racing from around the globe to appear~magically, I swear~ before my mother's eyes, within minutes! How's that for a "Come as you are/Surprise" party?

I realized that if I am someday so blessed to become eighty, I will remember my own mom's 80th birthday. And I also realized that I can't recall any of the other 53 birthdays that she has celebrated in my lifetime. Odd, that.

And that in my mind's eye, I picture my mom at about age 35-40. I'm always a little surprised when I see her that she has aged. I'm just annoyed that we can not be 53 together. It would be such fun.

Today was hot. It got up to 97 degrees. Late in the afternoon the sky turned dark denim blue, and lightening bolts spangled the horizon. The wind blew as I drove home from shopping, blew hard, and bits of trees and paper and other things swirled above me. Moments later the rain fell, and the road was four inches deep in water. Power failed, traffic signals went blank. I dodged people sized tree limbs in the street, and cautiously went through intersections that were now without working signal lights.

By the time I got home the power was back on, and the television reported that we here in Kingwood had experienced winds clocked at 60 mile an hour. And more fun was on the way. More rain, heavy rain, and hail. We should seek shelter immediately, and stay away from the windows.

I keep wondering: From where do the television people imagine that they are being watched, that does not come under the definition of shelter. Are there people who plug their sets into a long extension cord and watch TV in the middle of their front yard? Or out in a field? Maybe mobile TV has really caught on, and people are watching the weather channel in their row boats. I don't know.

Maybe I have some learning to do there.

From the window I watched the hail fall. Not a lot, just baby pea sized. Lots of rain. Lots of lightening, and crisp tearing sounds, followed by booms. It made me want tea. The TV said it was still 97 degrees outside, but it looked cold to me, like cup of tea weather. Air-conditioning helped that fantasy.

While I drove home, I had suddenly felt like I was saturated with blessings, and had found myself a little teary. So glad I have a Mother who is celebrating a birthday. And friends who rejoiced with me in her day. And oddly, I also felt very, very tired.

Bernie was napping when I got home. I think the sudden drop of pressure from the storm did something to us. By six I decided to go to bed.
At seven Bernie woke me. A dear friend was calling. Tests were back. She has cancer. Damn. Damn. No.

I knew Laura would know what I should know about this cancer. So I called and I asked her what she thought. And I learned that a good treatment outcome is very likely.

They say a friend is someone you can laugh with and cry with. I called back my friend, and we did what friends do. We laughed and we cried. And I learned a fragment more of what a treasure this friend is.

And finally I learned that while power is back on, the internet server on my computer is out, due to the storm. So no pictures with this post. I am using B's laptop, on a different server. And I learned that his keyboard, while quieter, is a lot slower than mine.

Midnight Sun: A few more pictures

Close up of the Midnight Sun 3 minute rose.

Oh, and Tiggie said to be sure to mention that he helped too.

 

Millinery at Midnight: "Midnight Sun"

A while back I wrote about creating a hat at midnight, using a 3 minute rose technique, on a straw hat I blocked on a bowl I got at Ross out in San Diego.


I promised pictures, so here you go!

I've named it "Midnight Sun", as the rose looks like a sunset sun to me. I used my newly acquired gold stamen while making the flower.
Love stamen!

The hat is held on by the hat pin, slid though a bun, or a pin curl (a lock of hair in a pin curl, then the hat pin goes through the curl, locking the hat down).

There is a scarf tied in the back. I love that the hat just sits on top of your head, light and cool, providing shade.

I wore it to work, and had someone stop me in the parking lot, asking where I got my hat!

No horses stampeded either.


(Notes on bowl blocking: Get blank, unblocked hat. Judith M. or Hats By Leko, on the web, have a good, reasonably priced selection.

Look for bowls at Ross, Marshalls, Ikea, or Nordstoms, if you've got the bucks and the guts.

Look at the bowls upside down. The BOWLS upside down, NOT you upside down. Try the bowls on as hats, tipping them in saucy styles.

Ignore the people who are staring at you.

Once you have decide on great bowl, pay for the bowl quickly, before the store has a chance to call for the people who bring the straight jackets.

Once home, cover the bowl with saran wrap. Dunk the hat in water with plain gelatin mixed into it. Stretch the hat over the bowl until smooth. Pinch designs into the straw as desired. That's how I got the pagoda design on top. Fold the edge of the hat over the edge of the bowl to make a hem. Then clamp the hat to the edge of the bowl using clothes pins. Let dry. Remove from bowl. Using millinery wire (Judith, Leko... again) create a circle. Stitch the wire in the hem.

Decorate as desired!

A tip of the hat to Kate, who pioneered this method, and who now lives with the Swiss overseas. I am told that these two facts are unrelated.

Tips to Reduce High Energy Bills...or... Does Al Gore know about this?

Tip #1: Be sure to unplug your cat when not in use.

Few people are aware that one of the unaddressed causes of global warming is cats.

Cats know it, and do not care. They will continue to shed at will, blanketing the earth in fur. Tragically, this precipitates increased vacuum usage.

Those vacuum cleaners put out a lot of heat! To say nothing about how hot vacuuming makes the vacuum cleaner operator feel.

(Feel free to submit your own funny caption for this photo!) 

Haberdashery

June 9th, 2006

Haberdashery: I always thought that was the word used to describe men's hats.

I was wrong!

The term actually means "dealing with men's clothing and accessories". Accessories, for men, used to ALWAYS include hats. Just look at the "old" movies (old, right up to the 1950's) and notice how ALL the men wear hats. Brim styles defined personality. A hat worn low on the brow suggested the man was suave, or dangerous. Pushed back on the head, the guy was probably a bit clueless. Tipped over one eye, a charmer, or a rake.

Sigh.

(Picture is of my Bernie, at Bayou Bend Garden, Houston, TX.)

Cowboy "flicks" used to use hats to signal the man's character. The four men from Bonanza for instance: Imagine Hoss' big bulbous beige hat on Little Joe! Changes everything, doesn't it?

My grandfather earned his living working in a Men's hat store in San Diego. I have seen a picture of the store's opening day, I think back in the 1920's. I'll have to check the title of the store again.

Dashing: definition: Marked by smartness, especially in dress and manners.

I think wearing a hat automatically makes a man look "dashing", and puts the "dash" in Haberdashery!

And as one of my naughty hat buddies once said:

"A hat on a man is to a woman, as lingerie on a woman is to a man".

You'd think the men would figure this out. "Victor's Secret" and "Fredricka's of Hollywood" would consist solely of fedoras, homburgs, gouchos and gamblers. In felt and straw!

Just to expand the idea, and maybe cause a few daydreams, check this link for men's hats:

http://www.millerhats.com

Then take a quick trip to St. Paul to see a modern day haberdasher:

http://picturestpaul.blogspot.com/2006/03/modern-day-haberdashery.html


Yum!

June 8th, 2006: Is it really a small world after all?

This blog is a copy of the letter I sent in response to a TWO PAGE article in the Houston Chronicle today, that was written by Joy Sewing (really!) and Mary Vuong, about how there has been a slight reduction in the availability of petite clothing lines and styles in stores.
And the difficulties endured by the vertically challenged.

You may see the article at:

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/life/style/3947823.html

(Warning: You might want to get your flame resistant outfit on for this one…or at least a sun dress to help you stay cool)

Hello Joy and Mary;

I have really enjoyed your columns in the past, and always look forward to seeing your byline!

I read your article today about the reduction in Petite clothing lines carried in area stores.

I especially noted this comment:

"To get what they wanted, many petite women had to buy misses size clothing and spend more to have them tailored".

May I offer a simple response: Give. Me. A. Break.

My world is like this:

As a tall woman, in order to get ANYTHING that really fits, I, like most TALL women, have to have clothing custom made.
Because, of course, it is not possible to find something, and to make it LONGER all over!

I have NOT found ANY store (Dillard’s, Macy's, Ann Tailors, Neiman Marcus etc etc) with an area, or designer just for TALL ladies. Tall ladies, as myself, and my daughter, and many, many of my friends. Those of us who range in height from 5'9 (like me) to 6'3 (like my friend).

We tall women all have experienced what it is like to need:

pants
skirts
dresses
suits
swim wear
underwear (really!)
blouses,
and shoes

that will cover our perfectly proportioned bodies. We have gone shopping, found nothing that fit, and walked away with our money unspent, and our bodies lacking stylish garments for work or for play.

Then there is the factor of "insult to injury":

Often while we shop, the sales people and random customers accost us, saying such insensitive things like:

Wow, you are REALLY tall! How tall are you? I can't believe how TALL you are! How did you get to be so tall? Oh, look at how Tall that woman is... etc etc etc.

And those are the more tactful comments.

We hear these comments. We are not necessarily deaf.
We are merely tall, not by choice, but by some genetic design for which we were not consulted.

Occasionally we get told how "lucky" we are, because, the petite person says, "We short people always have to have our clothes hemmed up!"

If only it was a simple as that.

If only the "shorty" doing the "pity me" trip would give us "talls" some sympathy when we explain that hemming "down" is not an option for us. The concept of not being able to make a cuff longer just seems eludes them.

Maybe they just have petite brainpower as well?

To soften the pain after these experiences, we sometimes (but not often) lower ourselves, and likewise loose our manners. We walk around petite sections of stores with our platinum cards held aloft, while saying:

"What happened to all these little tiny people? Did they not eat right as children? Or was it a birth defect? Gosh, look at how runty they are! Look how shrimpy that one is! If you don't mind me asking, how short ARE you? I've never seen anyone a short as you before...".

And we ask the sales person, loudly: "Where is the area for normal sized people like me? The Missy section appears to be cut undersized. Such and such designer must be trying to cut corners and make his/her line cheaper. They just don't fit!"

We are constantly explaining to sales persons: Are you aware that being tall is not just a matter of having an outfit made longer? Our shoulders are wider, our torsos are longer, and our arms and busts sit higher on our body.

This means that a regular size 12 full length formal straight gown will become tea length on us, the "walking slit" in the back will open to display our lower buttocks, and the princess seam in front goes IN at the bust line and OUT just above it!

Which is why my 6 ft. tall then size 8 daughter COULD NOT enjoy the experience of trying on prom dresses. Strapless gowns had waists that fitted around her ribs!

And why shopping for a wedding gown began with "will this designer work with me, for a torso needing to be 4 inches longer than standard?"

Unbelievably, most designers will not make that option available for all styles of bridal gowns.
Even if the gown is "custom" ordered, at a sizable additional cost.

(I am resisting the temptation to write entirely in screaming capital letters!)

Please, please, please Joy and Mary. Do an article on how so many of us live in "fashion land". Take a 6 ft tall, long torso businesswoman, or nurse, or teacher out on a shopping trip to buy:

Slacks (One store actually does carry longer torso, longer length pants. See if you can discover which one!)
Swim wear (L L Bean and Lands End carry longer torso in their catalog)
Long sleeve blouse ( JC Penny Tall catalogue provides basics)
Formal gown
Business suit with skirt

Find out which "Famous Name" designer stores have a few Tall sizes in catalogs. You just need to pay the shipping, both ways if it doesn't suit!

Now I do realize that it is slightly cheaper to make petite clothes. An inch less here, and inch less there really adds up. So designers must profit from that.

BUT...the plus size, or woman's clothing usually are the same price or just slightly higher (a buck or two at most...) as typical missy sized items, so I really can not buy the argument that tall sizes are just too expensive to produce. A tall size 12 surely takes less fabric than a size 24!

Well Joy and Mary, thank you for reading my rant. I hope you are able to share the pain that we tall people feel, and understand where I am coming from. I can't wait to see what you do in your column about shopping and fashion for us tall or model sized gals!

(Whew. I know my petite friends are cheering me on, right? I know it really is difficult to get clothes to fit when you are petite, and I feel your pain as well!)

Note added June 26th: Joy Sewing DID respond, as follows:

I appreciate your comments. My mother is 5’ 10” and has much difficulty finding clothes, especially pants, that fit. (I am just 5’5”.) I listen to her ranting all the time. I would like to do a piece in the future on styles for tall women and women with large feet. I really do understand. Thanks again.

Joy Sewing, Fashion Writer/Columnist
Houston Chronicle
801 Texas Avenue,
Houston, TX 77002
713-362-7371 office

June 8th 2006: Millinery: Inga

Inga is an interesting hat. My millinery guru Kate Pernia (see her blog at: http://hatsbykatrinka.blogspot.com) created this hat design, using an asymetic shallow bowl she found at Ikea.

The hat itself is made from sinamay, and features black netting with dots, and a white mother of pearl buckle in the back. It is held on the head with a strap made of sinamay, which encircles the full part of the back of the head.

I took a class from Kate to learn how to make this hat, and it was really fun. First we wet the sinamay in water that had plain gelatin mixed into it, to give the sinamay some sizing.

Then we covered the glass bowls in saran wrap, stretched the sinamay on the bowl and held the sinamay in place with clothes pins.

After it dried, we trimmed the excesss, and folded the edge over velvet tubing that had been internally wired. We stitched the "hem" edging close. Made a bias band for a head strap, and stitched that on the inside. Probably the most tricky part, to get the band just right for fit and tip of the hat.


You can see that it is a rather sheer hat, nice and light weight for Houston's heat. It just sits on the top of the head, so your hair doesn't even get messed up!

I have made four versions of this hat: This one shown, a similar one in off white, a straw colored one with a flower over the left eye, and a wild buckram framed one, covered in black suiting and with a rakish vintage orange feather. The feather is from the 1920's. That was a time period when using black and orange together did not suggest Halloween!

I am pictured at Ovations, on my way to attend Chicks on Tour, a women's comedy group. The theater had cabaret seating, and this was a perfect outfit for the evening. 

June 7th, 2006: First Harvest

Yesterday at 8 AM all of my little tomatoes were still green. At 1 PM, lo and behold, one had turned red! Good job, little tomato!

I imagine I will celebrate the first four or five that I harvest, and after that will gather them as they come along, without much further ado.

Funny how that works. Like how a first child's first everything is noted, and subsequent children have just general notice taken. Like the day they first walked or cut a tooth. I remember exactly when my first born Laura first sat alone, crawled and talked. As to second born Jeff, all I can say is he did sit up alone, crawled and began to talk, all well within the frame work of normal developmental milestone timetables.

The paper today has a full section on growing tomatoes in Houston. The news isn't good. Tomato season is limited to from between late May and mid-June, due to heat factors which limit pollination. Stink bugs here have super powers for crop destruction. My poor little volunteer tomato...clearly it grew from a seed on the lam. Thought it could sneak itself into an atypical garden of bonsai and japanese maples, there by eluding the dreaded Houston Tomato Bogie Bugs.

I'm going to relish each and every tomato. I might not remember each of them personally, but collectively, they will be memorialized. Maybe that is why I have only two kids. I just don't have the "Parent Power" needed to rejoice and recall events related to more than two.

And to think that there is one Father who actually is able to keep track of every tear, every hair that falls, and plans and knows, and remembers, each and every day of each of His children's lives. Amazing!

Hart, the kid

Hart is another replacement cat. Our Mac, The Very Best Cat Ever, had died unexpectedly of bone cancer. We were crushed, and wanted a cat who would look a bit like him.

This little gray guy was at the shelter, and he so actively related, rubbing and purring, and running back to me when taken from his cage, that I hoped he would have not only Mac's colors but also Mac's strong relation oriented personality.

Hart was brought home the same day that I received word that my heart was just fine. Great news, as I had undergone multiple tests to determine why I have such a slow heart beat (usually 48 bpm, same as President GWB by the way, but he works out hard and I don't).

Hart is very "kid" like-he is always up for play, very active, a pest at times, curious, and generally aware that he is not the alpha cat. Tiggie holds that position, and he defends his title when challenged.

Hart is thought to have some Russian Blue in him, as he has a very busy tail, and that actually is one of the characteristics of the breed that is looked for when judging Russian Blues in a cat shows. Hart's white bib and booties of course disqualify him from any pure bred status.

But we don't care. He's fine, just the way he is. 

Tidbit

This is Jennyanydots, so named after the poem in "Old Possums' book of Practical Cats", by T. S. Elliot. The musical "Cats" is that book put to music.

Jenny was a flood kitten, found with her family in a cave right after Tropical Storm Allison hit Houston. I got her at the Animal Shelter when she was 8 weeks old. She rolled out of a ball of playing multi-colored sibling kittens, looked into my eyes, and it was a done deal. She was mine.

She was so tiny, and had all the possible colors and patterns that could be found on any cat. "Like she has tidbits of everything" I commented. So she received her nickname. Tidbit. Except now at 16 lbs., she is more like a buffet.

Our vet does not believe in putting cats on a diet (Tidbit purred when she heard that!), but she truly does have eating issues. Perhaps those early scary days during the flood affected her. Who knows. Besides sitting, sleeping, and staring into space, her most favorite activity is eating, and fantasy nursing. On me.

That is, she jumps up on me when I am in bed, slips under the covers, and buries her nose into my ribs. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she closes them, starts up her deep, deep purr and begins to knead, like a baby kitten, rhythmically and for me, painfully, if I don't keep up with claw clipping.

A few minutes later she snaps back to reality, gives me a look like "we will never speak of this to anyone", and hops off the bed, leaving me with a wet cat drooled saturated top.

Evidence, I guess, that we really both are a little nuts! 

Tiggie, the Orange Cat

Introducing the felines of Jill's World.

Tiggie was a replacement cat. I had always wanted an orange cat, and we got one named Melville Dewey (librarian cat) but he disappeared one day. I was told that he was probably "et by a gator". Because of that comment, I look cautiously down all street drains, in case a gator is lurking, waiting to "et" me too.

Mostly I wanted an orange cat because they look so great with the sun shining on them.

Tiggie has curly fur, so he usually looks raggity. He was a Petsmart adoptee, one of 20 cats owned, and named by one man. Tiggie is a a "cat's cat", and love Bernie to the point of worship, and mourns pitifully when B. goes out the door. 

June 6, 2006: 75% rich, by some standards, in spite of ear worms.

It is going to be clear and hot today. The cherry tomatoes are now chin height, the fruit abundant but still green, and leaf miners have arrived. They've marred the pristine beauty of some the plant's leaves with squiggly pale paths, evidence of their culinary travels. Now I have a decision to make: Research how to fight them, decide if the fight should be organic, chemical, manual (pluck the marred leaves) or just let things be. Something to mull.

Having something to mull, or ponder, is important to me. Like my poor plant, I am subject to squiggly invaders called "ear worms". I hear a song, or jingle, and it plays over and over and over again in my head, squiggling through my mind, bubbling up in moments of mental repose. Last week it was "Some where (pause, pause) beyond the sea (pause pause) my love's (pause pause) waiting for me...."

This thanks to Carnival cruise line current ad campaigns. Before that is was "I'd love to be cowgirl, but I'm afraid of cows. Moo, moo, moo how they scare me. " (Thanks to Gayle for that one!)

Imagine the troubled looks I have gotten in public places when the ear worm takes full control of my passive mind, and I begin singing aloud. Moo, moo, moo.....

To fight this pesty invader, and to avoid being carted off to the funny farm, I work at gathering ponderable thoughts. A recently gathered ponderable came from our local newspaper columnist Scott Burns. He shared this:

"You know you are rich when more money won't change where you live, what you eat, what you drive, or who you sleep with."

I like what I eat just fine. I'm up two pounds this morning as proof!
And I love sleeping with B. and our three cats. I'd make no changes there. So that locks me into 50% rich.

I also love my 4Runner, mainly because I can shove huge items in the back, and also because it is high enough to get me out of Houston's oh so frequent floods. That fact puts me at 75% rich.

Then it gets complicated. I love where I am living, but I know that if suddenly got a huge amount of cash, I would want to add several zip codes to my residential identity. And I don't love that I don't live near my family, and many of my friends.

So I ponder: If I am only 75% rich, then what is the ONE place that I would want to move to, and never leave, that would make me 100% rich.

Scott Burns published that observation last Friday. Where I would live and never leave was ponder fodder for me for almost five days. Today I finally figured it out. It's north, far north, and actually it has no zip code. Doesn't have days or nights either. Time is different there. I have read that a thousand years is like one day there. And everyone has mansions.

Someday I WILL move there. I've already signed the real estate contract guaranteeing me a space. But in the meantime, I'm plenty happy being just 75% rich.

PS: By the way, ear worms can also be controlled by singing "The Hallelujah Chorus". Outloud. With vigor.
I've tried it and it work!

June 4th: Researching 12th Imam

Yesterday, Saturday, I had a lovely day with a Hat Friend. We tried on hats, and bought ribbon to make a hat. Afterwards B. and I headed for Mexican food. Yum. At the restaurant door there was a free magazine. I snagged it, as the cover looked interesting.

I didn't get to read it until Sunday afternoon. B. and I had ridden our bikes over to the community pool, and were lolligagging around, counting ourselves hugely blessed to have such luxury available, and the luxury of time in which to enjoy it.

After a lazy lap or two in the pool I returned to a shady lounger, and started to read the magazine. It really doesn't matter what magazine I was reading...the part that mattered was that I read an explanation of the significance of the 12th Imam.

Oh wow, and whoopsie daisy. To say the least. Now, after a little more research, I get why Iran' nuclear program is such a bugger, and making the news.

The "Summation-In-a-Minute" is:

The President of Iran believes the Muslim Messiah (AKA the 12th Imam) is returning to the world in the next 2-4 years, from a well (really!) in one of the Mosques in Iran, and that it is the Iranian President's duty/destiny to prepare the world for this. President went from a 1% recognition to winning his election, and has poured tons of money into fixing up the Mosque with the well.

But...the big gut grabber is that for #12 to come back and make paradise for all nice Muslim folk, Israel must be gone. In Iran's point of view, USA is the Great Satan that provides the $ that makes Israel's existence possible, so first the USA needs to get knocked out, and then, without USA protection, Israel/Jerusalem can be wiped clean of Jewish folks.

Mr. Iran President is "full speed ahead". Christians speak of the "end times" but they don't have a game plan to MAKE the times come ASAP. This 12th Imam guy will only show up IF the world is knocked into shape. So Mr. Iran President is, in his mind, divinely appointed to do any and everything necessary to set the stage. And has no reason to worry that there *might* be consequences. After all, paradise awaits. Let's get this show on the road!

And Mr. President is not shy about the fact that a nuclear devise would make that all possible, really quick.
And it really, really doesn't matter if the bomb messes up stuff, because all that matters is the #12 gets here, and thereby ushers in paradise.

Yipes.