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'Floating' earrings

(re-post)

Fishing line,  four  rolled paper beads,  four ivory beads  .......   earrings that appear to float below the ear.

Made like this:  the two pieces;  about six inches long,  fishing line tied to ivory beads at both ends.

One piece folded in half and poked through hole in ear;  the other piece is threaded through the loop made by A.  Then A is pulled back so that both loops meet behind ear.  They can be adjusted to hang equally or at different levels.

Take care while wearing as with any loop in the ear.   

You can make the rolled beads with any kind of paper starting with something triangular and a round stick like a knitting needle.  Google for information.

Posted on November 05, 2013 at 01:01 AM | Permalink

Fishing line,  four  rolled paper beads,  four ivory beads  .......   earrings that appear to float below the ear.

Made like this:  the two pieces;  about six inches long,  fishing line tied to ivory beads at both ends.

One piece folded in half and poked through hole in ear;  the other piece is threaded through the loop made by A.  Then A is pulled back so that both loops meet behind ear.  They can be adjusted to hang equally or at different levels.

Take care while wearing as with any loop in the ear.   

You can make the rolled beads with any kind of paper starting with something triangular and a round stick like a knitting needle.  Google for information.

October 31 st.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN. 

Mini processors: garlic and nuts.

(re-post)

A sudden return to Indian cooking and the need for finely chopped onions and garlic had me thinking about one of those whakty-whakty-whatkty choppers, the kind where you put the vegetable in a glass jar and attach a contraption on top and hit the flat handle which makes the spring-loaded (sharp!) blades whakty whakty whakty up and down and chop the onion.

In the course of the quest at the weekly church thrift shops I was advised that one of these mini electric food processors would do an even better job.  So I got it.

Boy, does it ever!  Onions and garlic are chopped coarse or fine, effortlessly,  by merely pressing on the switch.  And it cleans in a jif. 

I came across another one at a garage sale on the weekend and was showing it to a friend and saying I had just gotten one and loved it and wasn't it interesting how I had never noticed them before and now this was the third one in the last week but I didn't need another one.

She said she had one as well and used it to make sunflower seed butter and told me how to do it ....

I now have two mini processors. One for onions and garlic.  One for nut butters.

Some roasted peanuts put into the container with a bit of oil turned into wonderful peanut butter for the first attempt.  The taste of freshly made peanut butter was fantastic;  the fact of having just made it with peanuts I had just purchased and could make in an amount that would be eaten and not need to be stored  enhanced the experience.  I then tried it with mixed nuts.  Wow.  This is today's batch:  almonds with some stewed dates and grated cocoa mass.  It became the topping on breakfast bannock.  

Always something new to discover.

Posted on May 05, 2011 at 12:48 PM | Permalink

 

Posted on October 01, 2019 at 10:48 AM | Permalink

(re-post)

A sudden return to Indian cooking and the need for finely chopped onions and garlic had me thinking about one of those whakty-whakty-whatkty choppers, the kind where you put the vegetable in a glass jar and attach a contraption on top and hit the flat handle which makes the spring-loaded (sharp!) blades whakty whakty whakty up and down and chop the onion.

In the course of the quest at the weekly church thrift shops I was advised that one of these mini electric food processors would do an even better job.  So I got it.

Boy, does it ever!  Onions and garlic are chopped coarse or fine, effortlessly,  by merely pressing on the switch.  And it cleans in a jif. 

I came across another one at a garage sale on the weekend and was showing it to a friend and saying I had just gotten one and loved it and wasn't it interesting how I had never noticed them before and now this was the third one in the last week but I didn't need another one.

She said she had one as well and used it to make sunflower seed butter and told me how to do it ....

I now have two mini processors. One for onions and garlic.  One for nut butters.

Some roasted peanuts put into the container with a bit of oil turned into wonderful peanut butter for the first attempt.  The taste of freshly made peanut butter was fantastic;  the fact of having just made it with peanuts I had just purchased and could make in an amount that would be eaten and not need to be stored  enhanced the experience.  I then tried it with mixed nuts.  Wow.  This is today's batch:  almonds with some stewed dates and grated cocoa mass.  It became the topping on breakfast bannock.  

Always something new to discover.

Posted on May 05, 2011 at 12:48 PM | Permalink

 

A sudden return to Indian cooking and the need for finely chopped onions and garlic had me thinking about one of those whakty-whakty-whatkty choppers, the kind where you put the vegetable in a glass jar and attach a contraption on top and hit the flat handle which makes the spring-loaded (sharp!) blades whakty whakty whakty up and down and chop the onion.

In the course of the quest at the weekly church thrift shops I was advised that one of these mini electric food processors would do an even better job.  So I got it.

Boy, does it ever!  Onions and garlic are chopped coarse or fine, effortlessly,  by merely pressing on the switch.  And it cleans in a jif. 

I came across another one at a garage sale on the weekend and was showing it to a friend and saying I had just gotten one and loved it and wasn't it interesting how I had never noticed them before and now this was the third one in the last week but I didn't need another one.

She said she had one as well and used it to make sunflower seed butter and told me how to do it ....

I now have two mini processors. One for onions and garlic.  One for nut butters.

Some roasted peanuts put into the container with a bit of oil turned into wonderful peanut butter for the first attempt.  The taste of freshly made peanut butter was fantastic;  the fact of having just made it with peanuts I had just purchased and could make in an amount that would be eaten and not need to be stored  enhanced the experience.  I then tried it with mixed nuts.  Wow.  This is today's batch:  almonds with some stewed dates and grated cocoa mass.  It became the topping on breakfast bannock.  

Always something new to discover.

(re-post)

A sudden return to Indian cooking and the need for finely chopped onions and garlic had me thinking about one of those whakty-whakty-whatkty choppers, the kind where you put the vegetable in a glass jar and attach a contraption on top and hit the flat handle which makes the spring-loaded (sharp!) blades whakty whakty whakty up and down and chop the onion.

In the course of the quest at the weekly church thrift shops I was advised that one of these mini electric food processors would do an even better job.  So I got it.

Boy, does it ever!  Onions and garlic are chopped coarse or fine, effortlessly,  by merely pressing on the switch.  And it cleans in a jif. 

I came across another one at a garage sale on the weekend and was showing it to a friend and saying I had just gotten one and loved it and wasn't it interesting how I had never noticed them before and now this was the third one in the last week but I didn't need another one.

She said she had one as well and used it to make sunflower seed butter and told me how to do it ....

I now have two mini processors. One for onions and garlic.  One for nut butters.

Some roasted peanuts put into the container with a bit of oil turned into wonderful peanut butter for the first attempt.  The taste of freshly made peanut butter was fantastic;  the fact of having just made it with peanuts I had just purchased and could make in an amount that would be eaten and not need to be stored  enhanced the experience.  I then tried it with mixed nuts.  Wow.  This is today's batch:  almonds with some stewed dates and grated cocoa mass.  It became the topping on breakfast bannock.  

Always something new to discover.

KNITTING: JUGGLING BALLS

(re-post Oct 10 2007)

Juggling is one of those activities that has given me  pleasure across my life.  I am not particularly good at it - or, more accurately - there are times when I can keep three items in the air and other times I cannot.  It seems to have something to do with my level of feeling good - but that is another posting. 
Thing is,  I always seem to enjoy the effort no matter how it turns out.

I've made juggling bags out of fabric;  cubes  are fine but when I discovered that two figure eight pieces of material sewed together magically into a receptacle that could be filled with beans and juggled - well, that was a fun epiphany.

Lately I've been knitting them in a shape that likely has a name but which I do not know; sort of a pyramid on a square bottom.  I was 'playing' with some yarn one day and came up with it, likely 'unvented' as Elizabeth Zimmerman  would say. (I can't get the  link thing to work: just Google in her name and you will come up with all sorts of marvellous sites about her!)

These were for  a gift, knitted from koigu hand painted yarn and a hemp/wool (not much wool is required so you can indulge in something  exquisite:   luxurious functionality!) 

Here is how I do it.  Cast on however many stitches you think would make a nice-sized juggling ball.  I like a palm-sized three inches  or so.  This one is in black cotton, a fairly heavy weight yarn, giving 4 sts to the inch on #9 / 5.5 mm needles. I cast on 11 stitches and knit in stockingette stitch until I had a three inch square. (approx)

Now pick up 11 stitches along the side.  I found this easiest to do (as shown) by picking up the stitches with a double-pointed needle (white)  and then knitting from it with the one with the original stitches (yellow).   There are now 22 stitches on the yellow needle with a right angle (more or less) halfway along.  Knit in garter stitch for three inches.  Cast off.

This is what it will now look like.  This is the patio at the Polish Deli.

 

Now sew up two of the edges to make a pyramid shape, fill with beans, sew up final seam.  Toss and catch a few times.  You're juggling!  Okay, so one-third of the way.  Make two more bags.

 

These juggling bags were part of a series of seeing just how many items I could make from one ball of Manos del Uruguay wool - it's the multi-hued yarn and the solid wool is Prairie Silk from the Brown Sheep Company.  And the larger bag makes a nice place to stick and store sewing items.

Knitting needles behave themselves when stuck into juggling balls, these knit totally from the koigu merino: the multi hues jumble together very nicely in the stockingette and the garter, side by side.

Posted on June 12, 2018 at 05:30 AM | Permalink

 

Juggling is one of those activities that has given me  pleasure across my life.  I am not particularly good at it - or, more accurately - there are times when I can keep three items in the air and other times I cannot.  It seems to have something to do with my level of feeling good - but that is another posting. 
Thing is,  I always seem to enjoy the effort no matter how it turns out.

I've made juggling bags out of fabric;  cubes  are fine but when I discovered that two figure eight pieces of material sewed together magically into a receptacle that could be filled with beans and juggled - well, that was a fun epiphany.

Lately I've been knitting them in a shape that likely has a name but which I do not know; sort of a pyramid on a square bottom.  I was 'playing' with some yarn one day and came up with it, likely 'unvented' as Elizabeth Zimmerman  would say. (I can't get the  link thing to work: just Google in her name and you will come up with all sorts of marvellous sites about her!)

These were for  a gift, knitted from koigu hand painted yarn and a hemp/wool (not much wool is required so you can indulge in something  exquisite:   luxurious functionality!) 

Here is how I do it.  Cast on however many stitches you think would make a nice-sized juggling ball.  I like a palm-sized three inches  or so.  This one is in black cotton, a fairly heavy weight yarn, giving 4 sts to the inch on #9 / 5.5 mm needles. I cast on 11 stitches and knit in stockingette stitch until I had a three inch square. (approx)

Now pick up 11 stitches along the side.  I found this easiest to do (as shown) by picking up the stitches with a double-pointed needle (white)  and then knitting from it with the one with the original stitches (yellow).   There are now 22 stitches on the yellow needle with a right angle (more or less) halfway along.  Knit in garter stitch for three inches.  Cast off.

This is what it will now look like.  This is the patio at the Polish Deli.

 

Now sew up two of the edges to make a pyramid shape, fill with beans, sew up final seam.  Toss and catch a few times.  You're juggling!  Okay, so one-third of the way.  Make two more bags.

 

These juggling bags were part of a series of seeing just how many items I could make from one ball of Manos del Uruguay wool - it's the multi-hued yarn and the solid wool is Prairie Silk from the Brown Sheep Company.  And the larger bag makes a nice place to stick and store sewing items.

Knitting needles behave themselves when stuck into juggling balls, these knit totally from the koigu merino: the multi hues jumble together very nicely in the stockingette and the garter, side by side.

(re-post Oct 10 2007)

Juggling is one of those activities that has given me  pleasure across my life.  I am not particularly good at it - or, more accurately - there are times when I can keep three items in the air and other times I cannot.  It seems to have something to do with my level of feeling good - but that is another posting. 
Thing is,  I always seem to enjoy the effort no matter how it turns out.

I've made juggling bags out of fabric;  cubes  are fine but when I discovered that two figure eight pieces of material sewed together magically into a receptacle that could be filled with beans and juggled - well, that was a fun epiphany.

Lately I've been knitting them in a shape that likely has a name but which I do not know; sort of a pyramid on a square bottom.  I was 'playing' with some yarn one day and came up with it, likely 'unvented' as Elizabeth Zimmerman  would say. (I can't get the  link thing to work: just Google in her name and you will come up with all sorts of marvellous sites about her!)

These were for  a gift, knitted from koigu hand painted yarn and a hemp/wool (not much wool is required so you can indulge in something  exquisite:   luxurious functionality!) 

Here is how I do it.  Cast on however many stitches you think would make a nice-sized juggling ball.  I like a palm-sized three inches  or so.  This one is in black cotton, a fairly heavy weight yarn, giving 4 sts to the inch on #9 / 5.5 mm needles. I cast on 11 stitches and knit in stockingette stitch until I had a three inch square. (approx)

Now pick up 11 stitches along the side.  I found this easiest to do (as shown) by picking up the stitches with a double-pointed needle (white)  and then knitting from it with the one with the original stitches (yellow).   There are now 22 stitches on the yellow needle with a right angle (more or less) halfway along.  Knit in garter stitch for three inches.  Cast off.

This is what it will now look like.  This is the patio at the Polish Deli.

 

Now sew up two of the edges to make a pyramid shape, fill with beans, sew up final seam.  Toss and catch a few times.  You're juggling!  Okay, so one-third of the way.  Make two more bags.

 

These juggling bags were part of a series of seeing just how many items I could make from one ball of Manos del Uruguay wool - it's the multi-hued yarn and the solid wool is Prairie Silk from the Brown Sheep Company.  And the larger bag makes a nice place to stick and store sewing items.

Knitting needles behave themselves when stuck into juggling balls, these knit totally from the koigu merino: the multi hues jumble together very nicely in the stockingette and the garter, side by side.

Hat; Saori; the process

(re-post from March 22 2011)

Sunday I went to the Saori gathering at Knotty by Nature and on Tuesday I rented the piccolo loom from them! 

It's light and portable (folds up and fits in back seat of car).  Here it is warped and ready to go.

Not many minutes have passed ....

It is a lot of fun.  The loom is user friendly;  friendly is actually a very appropriate term here.

This is the boat shuttle that 'sails' through the shed and across the warp,  carrying the weft.  In the jars are thrums, the saved  bits and pieces resulting from sewing and knitting and other fibre projects. I put them into the shed on top of the warp threads and wove them into the piece.

The first piece completed.  It is intended to form the bodice of a vest or tabard.  This could change.  I also want to make a cover for a pillow and maybe this will be used.

The second length to dance off the loom.  Intended for a hat.

And hat it became.

At first the crown was pinned flat.  Then an insert was considered.  Finally a length of strong cord was threaded  along the top edge and pulled taut, cupping the head.

A green fleece panel was used to join the two edges together (I used a zig zag stitch) and this gave a bit of give at the back where hats meet the neck.

It feels good to wear.  Spring weight, made from the skeins of  linen I bought at a garage sale  two summers ago (I doubled the yarn to get a denser fabric).

Now I want to weave one for summer, likely on an ivory flax warp,  likely using cotton or cotton blend.  Maybe with thrums again.  And likely sprigs of herbs like rosemary and southernwood and sage.  The sprigs of Australian bushmint I wove into the first piece (pos. vest bodice) are drying and releasing their fragrance.  A wearable garden is a delight.

Posted on November 20, 2018 at 05:48 PM | Permalink

Sunday I went to the Saori gathering at Knotty by Nature and on Tuesday I rented the piccolo loom from them! 

It's light and portable (folds up and fits in back seat of car).  Here it is warped and ready to go.

Not many minutes have passed ....

It is a lot of fun.  The loom is user friendly;  friendly is actually a very appropriate term here.

This is the boat shuttle that 'sails' through the shed and across the warp,  carrying the weft.  In the jars are thrums, the saved  bits and pieces resulting from sewing and knitting and other fibre projects. I put them into the shed on top of the warp threads and wove them into the piece.

The first piece completed.  It is intended to form the bodice of a vest or tabard.  This could change.  I also want to make a cover for a pillow and maybe this will be used.

The second length to dance off the loom.  Intended for a hat.

And hat it became.

At first the crown was pinned flat.  Then an insert was considered.  Finally a length of strong cord was threaded  along the top edge and pulled taut, cupping the head.

A green fleece panel was used to join the two edges together (I used a zig zag stitch) and this gave a bit of give at the back where hats meet the neck.

It feels good to wear.  Spring weight, made from the skeins of  linen I bought at a garage sale  two summers ago (I doubled the yarn to get a denser fabric).

Now I want to weave one for summer, likely on an ivory flax warp,  likely using cotton or cotton blend.  Maybe with thrums again.  And likely sprigs of herbs like rosemary and southernwood and sage.  The sprigs of Australian bushmint I wove into the first piece (pos. vest bodice) are drying and releasing their fragrance.  A wearable garden is a delight.

Saori : weaving ; mindset

 

(re-post from March  14 2011)

A Saori gathering on Sunday hosted by Marie Suzaki at Knotty by Nature was most worthwhile.  Marie, who teaches Saori weaving and clothing construction,  shared  woven  pieces,  garments,  techniques  and ideas of the Saori process:   incredible!     She worked at the Saori headquarters in Japan and is now in Victoria.  Students and guests then shared their creations.  

A few years ago I learned of a Saori weaving course being given at Knotty by Nature by Terri Bibby  (Saori Saltspring), (who was at the gathering and  has blogged about it),  and the philosophy appealed to me;  it resonates with my mindset about life, about my work.  This  is  one of the two pieces I wove in that workshop.  

For the Saori gathering I turned that weaving into a hat;  I used the length as 'clay' and 'sculpted'  it to fit my head. (A mixing bowl was used as the form.)

At first I was hand sewing the joins (and there were lots of them) but then decided to use safety pins because 1) it was a heck of a lot faster 2) I love safety pins, figure they have a bad reputation, so use them often, usually visible 3) the pins allowed for more flexiblilty of the design with the increased tactilization required 4) it will be easy to unpin the hat and return it to a length.

It sits nicely and the pins tend to anchor it and hold the adjustment for more - or less - visor.

I had an idea of front and back during the process of creation but was open to this changing.  Listening to the material and being willing to let the hands 'speak' is one aspect of freeform or intuitive fibre art that I value. 

This is the other piece.  I wanted to turn it into a vest and this required cutting it, which was a bit unnerving and took some courage.  I had never cut a piece of weaving before. A wearable frame on which to mount the weaving, once cut, was necessary as I did not have a big enough piece and this suggested something that would allow the open and airy weaving to be honoured.

After many thoughts  polyester window screening came to mind which I have worked with before and used in a garment.  This also replaced the linen I had thought to use as the stabilizing material along the woven peice before I cut it and then matched the seam length when put together.

Here is the front.  It is attached to the screen with long running stitches.

The back.  I kept the simple pagoda- shaped shoulders because I like the look and it also retained the integrity of the weaving.

The back piece did not wish to be tacked down and I agree.  It flows and moves in a free rhythm when being worn.  Even in response to the wind from an open window!

Posted on November 20, 2018 at 12:16 PM | Permalink

(re-post from March  14 2011)

A Saori gathering on Sunday hosted by Marie Suzaki at Knotty by Nature was most worthwhile.  Marie, who teaches Saori weaving and clothing construction,  shared  woven  pieces,  garments,  techniques  and ideas of the Saori process:   incredible!     She worked at the Saori headquarters in Japan and is now in Victoria.  Students and guests then shared their creations.  

A few years ago I learned of a Saori weaving course being given at Knotty by Nature by Terri Bibby  (Saori Saltspring), (who was at the gathering and  has blogged about it),  and the philosophy appealed to me;  it resonates with my mindset about life, about my work.  This  is  one of the two pieces I wove in that workshop.  

For the Saori gathering I turned that weaving into a hat;  I used the length as 'clay' and 'sculpted'  it to fit my head. (A mixing bowl was used as the form.)

At first I was hand sewing the joins (and there were lots of them) but then decided to use safety pins because 1) it was a heck of a lot faster 2) I love safety pins, figure they have a bad reputation, so use them often, usually visible 3) the pins allowed for more flexiblilty of the design with the increased tactilization required 4) it will be easy to unpin the hat and return it to a length.

It sits nicely and the pins tend to anchor it and hold the adjustment for more - or less - visor.

I had an idea of front and back during the process of creation but was open to this changing.  Listening to the material and being willing to let the hands 'speak' is one aspect of freeform or intuitive fibre art that I value. 

This is the other piece.  I wanted to turn it into a vest and this required cutting it, which was a bit unnerving and took some courage.  I had never cut a piece of weaving before. A wearable frame on which to mount the weaving, once cut, was necessary as I did not have a big enough piece and this suggested something that would allow the open and airy weaving to be honoured.

After many thoughts  polyester window screening came to mind which I have worked with before and used in a garment.  This also replaced the linen I had thought to use as the stabilizing material along the woven peice before I cut it and then matched the seam length when put together.

Here is the front.  It is attached to the screen with long running stitches.

The back.  I kept the simple pagoda- shaped shoulders because I like the look and it also retained the integrity of the weaving.

The back piece did not wish to be tacked down and I agree.  It flows and moves in a free rhythm when being worn.  Even in response to the wind from an open window!

'Old' 35 mm film canister makes a great change 'purse'

(re-post of a re-post) 

I still have these and they continue to serve me well.

(re-post from Jan 2 2012)

I was digging change out of my wallet and commenting that it was a bit irksome as the zippered compartment meant for other-than-bills money was narrow and not finger- or eye- friendly  when the church thrift store lady cashier said she used a 35 mm film holder.

"But it wouldn't fit the width of loonies and toonies,"  I said.

"Yes it will," she said.

It does!  It does!  Thank you, Betty!

And this technique that I learned ages ago from my dentist's receptionist (thank you, Jillian!) enhanced the repurposing of  the canister.

It's very simple, fun, and the effect is startling and satisfying.  You take plain masking tape and rip off pieces at random and stick them on the surface.

Then rub it with shoe polish; experiment with more or less for different effects.  Let dry.  Buff for a shine or let remain a matte finish.

Money is contained nicely, pours out easily into palm, is immediatlely visible, and it slides back into the container as satisfactorily.

I don't know what this is called but you can decorate any surface with it:  books, tins, furniture, stair risers,  walls  etc.etc.etc.

P.S. As I was getting ready to go out on the daily errands and was tucking the earth-coloured change holder into my purse,  I decided a green one would be nice to have as well;  thing is, I don't have green shoe polish. Actually I don't recall ever seeing green shoe polish. But I do have green acrylic paints.

This 'last minute to leaving' idea resulted in a green change holder (proving it really is simple and quick to produce!).  The acrylic paint is more staunch*  than shoe polish and required using fingers to spread it around and have it adhere, but it worked:  when I got home it had dried and was nature-mottled green; it pleases me. 

* I am aware "staunch" is usually a verb but I am using it here as a noun because it suits  the situation.

Posted on March 29, 2019 at 09:29 AM | Permalink | Comments

Posted on December 25, 2021 at 01:18 PM | Permalink

(re-post from Jan 2 2012)

I was digging change out of my wallet and commenting that it was a bit irksome as the zippered compartment meant for other-than-bills money was narrow and not finger- or eye- friendly  when the church thrift store lady cashier said she used a 35 mm film holder.

"But it wouldn't fit the width of loonies and toonies,"  I said.

"Yes it will," she said.

It does!  It does!  Thank you, Betty!

And this technique that I learned ages ago from my dentist's receptionist (thank you, Jillian!) enhanced the repurposing of  the canister.

It's very simple, fun, and the effect is startling and satisfying.  You take plain masking tape and rip off pieces at random and stick them on the surface.

Then rub it with shoe polish; experiment with more or less for different effects.  Let dry.  Buff for a shine or let remain a matte finish.

Money is contained nicely, pours out easily into palm, is immediatlely visible, and it slides back into the container as satisfactorily.

I don't know what this is called but you can decorate any surface with it:  books, tins, furniture, stair risers,  walls  etc.etc.etc.

P.S. As I was getting ready to go out on the daily errands and was tucking the earth-coloured change holder into my purse,  I decided a green one would be nice to have as well;  thing is, I don't have green shoe polish. Actually I don't recall ever seeing green shoe polish. But I do have green acrylic paints.

This 'last minute to leaving' idea resulted in a green change holder (proving it really is simple and quick to produce!).  The acrylic paint is more staunch*  than shoe polish and required using fingers to spread it around and have it adhere, but it worked:  when I got home it had dried and was nature-mottled green; it pleases me. 

* I am aware "staunch" is usually a verb but I am using it here as a noun because it suits  the situation.

Posted on March 29, 2019 at 09:29 AM | Permalink | Comments

I was digging change out of my wallet and commenting that it was a bit irksome as the zippered compartment meant for other-than-bills money was narrow and not finger- or eye- friendly  when the church thrift store lady cashier said she used a 35 mm film holder.

"But it wouldn't fit the width of loonies and toonies,"  I said.

"Yes it will," she said.

It does!  It does!  Thank you, Betty!

And this technique that I learned ages ago from my dentist's receptionist (thank you, Jillian!) enhanced the repurposing of  the canister.

It's very simple, fun, and the effect is startling and satisfying.  You take plain masking tape and rip off pieces at random and stick them on the surface.

Then rub it with shoe polish; experiment with more or less for different effects.  Let dry.  Buff for a shine or let remain a matte finish.

Money is contained nicely, pours out easily into palm, is immediatlely visible, and it slides back into the container as satisfactorily.

I don't know what this is called but you can decorate any surface with it:  books, tins, furniture, stair risers,  walls  etc.etc.etc.

P.S. As I was getting ready to go out on the daily errands and was tucking the earth-coloured change holder into my purse,  I decided a green one would be nice to have as well;  thing is, I don't have green shoe polish. Actually I don't recall ever seeing green shoe polish. But I do have green acrylic paints.

This 'last minute to leaving' idea resulted in a green change holder (proving it really is simple and quick to produce!).  The acrylic paint is more staunch*  than shoe polish and required using fingers to spread it around and have it adhere, but it worked:  when I got home it had dried and was nature-mottled green; it pleases me. 

* I am aware "staunch" is usually a verb but I am using it here as a noun because it suits  the situation.

STREET COMBING : Sink

(re-post) (click on Img)

This was in the gutter one morning last week.  No longer could I say, "I've seen everything while street combing (akin to beach combing but in the city) except the kitchen sink." 
Some of the detritus treasures  'washed up' by  the waves of my fellow human beings overnight come home with me and  get used in many different projects.

The sink, being problematic size-wise and pocket-portability-wise, I left  with a sigh and a grin.

The next day the sink had been gobbled up, thusly.

Those park garbage cans must go on the prowl when it gets dark. 

Posted on October 24, 2007 at 05:30 AM | Permalink

This was in the gutter one morning last week.  No longer could I say, "I've seen everything while street combing (akin to beach combing but in the city) except the kitchen sink." 
Some of the detritus treasures  'washed up' by  the waves of my fellow human beings overnight come home with me and  get used in many different projects.

The sink, being problematic size-wise and pocket-portability-wise, I left  with a sigh and a grin.

The next day the sink had been gobbled up, thusly.

Those park garbage cans must go on the prowl when it gets dark. 

My mother's button box......and mine

(re-post of a re-post)

 

One thing that has traveled with me over many moves across more than half a century is my mother's button box. 

She would have turned 87 yesterday.

Her veil that she wore on her head to church and my brief attempt to sort into bags were more or less recent additions. 

The rest is as I have known it from childhood.

It fascinated me then - to sort through it,  marvel at the touch and sight and sound of all those buttons.

To recognize buttons taken from a coat or a dress.

To learn details of history not in my memory.

To search for a button needed for one missing on a garment and find a match.

To search for buttons wanted for a new project and perhaps delight in finding  a set or perhaps delight in the challenge to create a new set.

The most special button was always the clear amber one which becomes warm if I hold it.

It is from a button factory that an aunt and uncle had owned.  I never saw the factory but the thought of a place that made buttons - and such a beautiful and unusual one -  the thought of how it must have been done and what other kinds there were and how were they stored and how were they sold and the thought of many many many people wearing clothing with 'family' buttons on them - overwhelmed me. 

This is my present button box.  It has changed over the years.  I once had jars and jars of buttons.  It was fun to collect them across time.  Fun - and liberating - to get rid of them in one simplifying.

Perhaps because of - or, in spite of! - the presence of my mother's button box with all its personal history - my button box now reflects a more immediate collection.  The old button bag is from some other family but I treasure it muchly.

Mine are sorted into whites and wood and metals and interesting and buttons-to-be.

There is another collection growing of buttons I have made and am making.  Buttons can be made out of almost anything!

Posted on November 23, 2009 at 01:01 AM | PermalinkM

Posted on October 05, 2019 at 06:34 PM | Permalink

 

One thing that has traveled with me over many moves across more than half a century is my mother's button box. 

She would have turned 87 yesterday.

Her veil that she wore on her head to church and my brief attempt to sort into bags were more or less recent additions. 

The rest is as I have known it from childhood.

It fascinated me then - to sort through it,  marvel at the touch and sight and sound of all those buttons.

To recognize buttons taken from a coat or a dress.

To learn details of history not in my memory.

To search for a button needed for one missing on a garment and find a match.

To search for buttons wanted for a new project and perhaps delight in finding  a set or perhaps delight in the challenge to create a new set.

The most special button was always the clear amber one which becomes warm if I hold it.

It is from a button factory that an aunt and uncle had owned.  I never saw the factory but the thought of a place that made buttons - and such a beautiful and unusual one -  the thought of how it must have been done and what other kinds there were and how were they stored and how were they sold and the thought of many many many people wearing clothing with 'family' buttons on them - overwhelmed me. 

This is my present button box.  It has changed over the years.  I once had jars and jars of buttons.  It was fun to collect them across time.  Fun - and liberating - to get rid of them in one simplifying.

Perhaps because of - or, in spite of! - the presence of my mother's button box with all its personal history - my button box now reflects a more immediate collection.  The old button bag is from some other family but I treasure it muchly.

Mine are sorted into whites and wood and metals and interesting and buttons-to-be.

There is another collection growing of buttons I have made and am making.  Buttons can be made out of almost anything!

Posted on November 23, 2009 at 01:01 AM | PermalinkM

One thing that has traveled with me over many moves across more than half a century is my mother's button box. 

She would have turned 87 yesterday.

Her veil that she wore on her head to church and my brief attempt to sort into bags were more or less recent additions. 

The rest is as I have known it from childhood.

It fascinated me then - to sort through it,  marvel at the touch and sight and sound of all those buttons.

To recognize buttons taken from a coat or a dress.

To learn details of history not in my memory.

To search for a button needed for one missing on a garment and find a match.

To search for buttons wanted for a new project and perhaps delight in finding  a set or perhaps delight in the challenge to create a new set.

The most special button was always the clear amber one which becomes warm if I hold it.

It is from a button factory that an aunt and uncle had owned.  I never saw the factory but the thought of a place that made buttons - and such a beautiful and unusual one -  the thought of how it must have been done and what other kinds there were and how were they stored and how were they sold and the thought of many many many people wearing clothing with 'family' buttons on them - overwhelmed me. 

This is my present button box.  It has changed over the years.  I once had jars and jars of buttons.  It was fun to collect them across time.  Fun - and liberating - to get rid of them in one simplifying.

Perhaps because of - or, in spite of! - the presence of my mother's button box with all its personal history - my button box now reflects a more immediate collection.  The old button bag is from some other family but I treasure it muchly.

Mine are sorted into whites and wood and metals and interesting and buttons-to-be.

There is another collection growing of buttons I have made and am making.  Buttons can be made out of almost anything!

One thing that has traveled with me over many moves across more than half a century is my mother's button box. 

She would have turned 87 yesterday.

Her veil that she wore on her head to church and my brief attempt to sort into bags were more or less recent additions. 

The rest is as I have known it from childhood.

It fascinated me then - to sort through it,  marvel at the touch and sight and sound of all those buttons.

To recognize buttons taken from a coat or a dress.

To learn details of history not in my memory.

To search for a button needed for one missing on a garment and find a match.

To search for buttons wanted for a new project and perhaps delight in finding  a set or perhaps delight in the challenge to create a new set.

The most special button was always the clear amber one which becomes warm if I hold it.

It is from a button factory that an aunt and uncle had owned.  I never saw the factory but the thought of a place that made buttons - and such a beautiful and unusual one -  the thought of how it must have been done and what other kinds there were and how were they stored and how were they sold and the thought of many many many people wearing clothing with 'family' buttons on them - overwhelmed me. 

This is my present button box.  It has changed over the years.  I once had jars and jars of buttons.  It was fun to collect them across time.  Fun - and liberating - to get rid of them in one simplifying.

Perhaps because of - or, in spite of! - the presence of my mother's button box with all its personal history - my button box now reflects a more immediate collection.  The old button bag is from some other family but I treasure it muchly.

Mine are sorted into whites and wood and metals and interesting and buttons-to-be.

There is another collection growing of buttons I have made and am making.  Buttons can be made out of almost anything!

BLUE CHAIR, RED FLOOR

(re-post)

At the moment in a room in my home there is a blue chair on a red floor and there being little else in the room to distract from these two objects one's attention catches on the blue chair on the red floor.  There's a can of forest green paint in the opposite corner waiting on time and inclination to cover both the red floor and the blue chair and is the reason the room is, for the moment, mostly empty.  I expected the colour change would have occurred by now but it hasn't and the delay is offering the extended attention.  I could do a painting of the blue chair on the red floor.  But since the actual painting of the two of then  is going to come about, eventually, a painting on board seems superfluous, unnecessary, un-paralleled.  It is as if the painting already exists in some suspended state and will be washed away like a sand painting on the shore once the waves come in. 

Posted on December 14, 2006 at 06:32 AM | Permalink