Boo to you, too!

Go ahead! Take candy from strangers!

Jack's cyclops pumpkin with a mohawk is the best ever!

Happy Halloween!

Ebay: Whatcha say?

Hello friends!

I have listed an Ebay charity auction to benefit those affected by the Wildfires in Southern California.

One of each Farbenmix and studioTANTRUM/fledge sewing patterns translated into English + a yummy slice of Stenzo cordury to set you on your merry sewing way!

Thank you Tiffany and Clara of the Boutique Angels for all the work they do!

Sag' doch mal was!

Alsoooo... ich schleiche so um die Nähblogs herum und bekomme so mit, dass so manche Schwierigkeiten beim Verstehen von Laguna erstehen. Und das tut mir leid.

Pass' auf: Ich habe mir die Zeigefinger beim letzten mal, einen Reisverschluss in eine Hose zu steppen, mitgenäht. Und den 5. Faden im Ovi einzufädeln ohne einen Fadensalat am Kleidungsstück hervorzurufen ist ein Lebensziel von mir. D. h. wenn ich Laguna nähen kann, bin ich mir fast zu 100% sicher, dass zu fast 100% der Möchte-Laguna-Näherinnen auch Laguna-Näherinnen werden können.

Laguna ist so dermassen einfach, war ich mir beim Entwurf fast sicher, dass es den Rock schon irgendwo geben muss.

Was nicht so einfach scheint ist doch meine Anleitung (danke, Claudia, für den Hinweis). Also:
Hier ist eine Link zum Downloaden einer Anleitung mit mehreren Bildern.

Das Zuschneiden ist das Alpha und-- naja, nicht ganz das Alpha und Omega von Laguna, aber das Alpha bis Kappa mindestens. Lamda bis Tau ist doch das Säumen... Ansonsten, ist der Rock auch mit total zugepflasterter, durchgenähter Zeigefinger easy to nähen.

Nun etwas eindeutiger? Übersichtlicher? Nicht? Tjo, sag' doch mal 'was.

Näh-und-Drehspass wünsche ich Euch!

P.S. And thank you, Toni, for using your html witchcraft to upload these instructions for download. I'm sure I'd injure myself if I tried that. Besos, mamacita!

Color of Fire

I want to thank the many people who emailed me to show concern about the wildfires possibly effecting us. Our house and family are some distance from the wildfires, which are raging south of here in Orange County and San Diego and north of here in Malibu. We are just fine, not really near any of the blazes. I was a little nonchalant about the fires when they first broke. Southern California gets wildfires. The Gulf Coast gets hurricanes. The Midwest gets tornadoes. The Northeast gets blizzards. Every part of this nation has it's own of Mother Nature's tantrums to tame. And Southern California gets wildfires. Trimming back hillside brush beats shoveling snow any day.

But then the numbers of evacuees quickly rose from a few thousand to hundreds of thousands. A customer of mine in Portola Hills watched flames soar 100 feet in the air behind her house while she was stomping burning embers on her back porch. This is a disaster unfolding.

Of this disaster that which I catch glimpse is a fine powdery layer of ash covering everything. The sky is hazy with particulates. Only the longest light waves, red, orange and yellow, are having much success piercing through this layer of ash, making the noonday light golden. I remember looking through the yellow celophane of Easter wrappings. It reminds me of that. Everything has the color of fading color photographs. Shadows look blue. The sunset is a stubborn bright pink, which doesn't manage to create a reflection on the ocean surface. It looks like a round burn mark, which takes away the top layer of skin. My world looks like Guillermo del Torro has walked in and said, "Yellow. I want everything to have a pale golden cast." The ocean water is blue and yellow at the same time, like iridescent silk taffeta. It is disconcerting. And beautiful.

Stay safe.

Für die vielen Emails, die nach unserem Wohlergehen fragten, möchte ich mich bedanken. Unser Haus und unsere Familie sind ziemlich gut entfernt von den Wildbrändte. Uns geht's gut.

Playing dirty

I call Jack Indestructo Boy. He's a tough kid. He takes tumble after tumble after hard knock after elbow in the ribs and foot in the thigh muscle and he keeps going. Coach after coach after coach has watched him with astounded expression as he just bounces (literally "bounces") back up and back in the game. I would have been happy with a softer kid, a little John Denver, happier to work on the team banner than chip shots. And Jack does have that side to him, as well. But the soccer season thus far has brought out the tough kid. And he really came to the game this season. He's always been a head smaller than most players in the league his age, but he's got the fastest legs and some tricksey feet and this season has seen at least one goal from him each game. Four goals in one game was his best game so far. To put this into perspective, so far, Jack's team is ranked fourth and only he and one other player have ever played the game before. The team has gotten to fourth place on offense alone, as the team's defense, well, give them a few years, they'll come around.

Yeah, my Jack: What a great kid and what a great soccer player. My favorite accessory this Fall is the silly big pin-on button with his photograph in his uniform. My No. 5.

Except today.

Jack's team played against the number-one ranked team today. The Celtics are taller, faster, stronger, more experienced than our team. Jack had been talking about this game to come all week. It became clear shortly into the first quarter that our team was overpowered and outmatched.

0-1.

0-2.

0-3.

Quarter.

0-4.

And then my sweet, smart, artistic Jack, my Jack who rescues baby birds tossed from their nests and takes sniffling kindergarteners with scraped knees to the school nurse, started playing dirty.

Real dirty.

Slide tackle.

Shoulder shove.

Elbow? Jack, did I just see an elbow?

Slide tackle.

It seemed where ever I found Jack on the field, he was down and another kid was down with him.

Foul on No. 5. Penalty kick.

0-5.

Coach, I said, take him out. This isn't good. Or I'll walk out on that field myself and take him home.

Halftime.

Jack sat out the third quarter. He seemed close to tears. A little talk and little back rubbing and little "It's for fun. You know those guys. Those are your buddies from previous years on other team out there. They are stronger, sure, but you only learn by playing better teams. I see one more elbow or one more slide tackle like that and I'm taking you home." A little rest, a little blue Gatorade and he seemed himself again. The fourth quarter had him back in playing.

But he hadn't made many friends on the opposing Celtic team the two quarters he had already played. Jack got back much and more of what he dished out previously and now from much bigger players and from a whole team. Turnabout is fair play, right? What Jack got for all that dirty effort was a 6-1 loss, a twisted ankle, a black eye and a bunch of dirty looks. I couldn't even scrounge up some ice for his swollen eye from the other team. That wasn't exactly cool from the grown-ups, in my opinion. I mean, here's this nine-year-old kid with a goose egg on this eye ... but what can I say? I spawned the demon child. He had nothing but HABA baby toys. I sang him to sleep for 2-1/2 straight years. We don't even watch television! Really, he's a sweet kid...really...

Jack's hurt. He's disappointed. I'm disappointed. My Jack.

That really is the question: If the other guys are much bigger, if you feel you are alone out there, if the odds are stacked against you, should you play dirty? And when the big guys play dirty, shouldn't you throw some dirt back their way? If they cheat and there's no call, what then?

What should I do in this case? What would I get for my effort? A black eye and a twisted ankle?

Right now, all I can think of to do is go get some pancakes. The swelling has gone down. There's some bruising, mostly of egos. I think we could all use some pancakes.

Jack nenne ich "Indestructo Boy". Das ist ein harter Kerl. Er fliegt hin und hin und hin und nimmt einen Ellenbogen in den Rippen und einen Fusstritt in den Schenkel und weiter geht's! Trainer nach Trainer nach Trainer hat Jack mit Erstaunen (und ich mit Zusammenzücken) beobachtet, wie er nach einem harten Fall sofort wieder hochspringt (tatsächlich "springt") und weiterspielt. Ich wäre auch mit einem etwas weicheren Kind glücklich, ein kleiner John Denver, der sein Glück beim Gestalten des Teamtransparents fände. Und diese Seite hat Jack auch. Nichtsdestotrotz hat Fußball in diesem Saison den harten Kerl zum Vorschein gebracht. Und in diesem Saison kam der Sportart zu Jack. Jack war immer ein Kopf kleiner als die Spieler in seinem Alter. Aber der Bursch' hat schnelle Beine und trickreiche Füsse und dieses Saison hat er bereits in jedem Spiel mindestens ein Tor geschossen. Um das ins rechte Licht zu rücken, ist Jacks Mannschaft momentan auf Platz Vier und dies während nur er und ein weiterer Junge das Spiel schon vorher gespielt haben. D.h. Platz Vier wegen der Vordermannschaft alleine, denn die Hintermannschaft, nun, ja, warten wir ein paar Jahren, sie werden schon.

Jawohl, mein Jack: Was für ein toller Kerl und was für ein Fußballspieler. Mein Lieblingsaccessoire diesen Herbst ist der kitschige grosse Knopf zum Annadeln mit seinem Bild im Uniform. Mein Nr. 5.

Ausser heute.

Jacks Mannschaft spielte gegen die Nr.-Eins-Mannschaft. Die Celtics sind grösser, schneller, stärker und hat mehr Erfahrung als unsere Jungs. Kurz nach Spielbeginn wurde es klar, dass Jacks Team übermannt und überlegen war.

0-1.

0-2.

0-3.

Viertel.

0-4.

Und dann fing mein Jack, mein lieber, kluger, künstlerischer Jack, der Jack, der kleine ausgestossene Vöglein rettet, bös' zu spielen.

Richtig gemein.

Slide tackle.

Shoulder shove.

Ellenbogen? Jack, habe ich soeben von Dir einen Ellenbogen gesehen?

Slide tackle. Es kam mir vor, überall wo ich Jack sah, lag Jack mit einem weiteren Jungen auf dem Rasen.

Foul gegen Nr. 5. Strafstoß Elf Meter. 0-5.

Coach, sagte ich, ziehe Jack aus dem Spiel heraus. Das ist nicht gut. Oder ich werde persönlich auf dem Feld marschieren und ihn mit nach Hause nehmen.

Halbzeit. Jack sass den dritten Viertel aus. Er schien mir kurz vor Tränen. "Komm, Jack, das soll für Spass sein. Du kennst doch diese Jungs. Das sind doch deine Kumpels auf der anderen Mannschaft. Sie sind stärker, aber du lernst nur wenn du gegen besseren spielst. Und noch einen Ellenbogen oder noch so ein Slide Tackle von dir und ich hole dich persönlich vom Spielfeld herunter." Ein wenig Rast, ein wenig blauer Gatorade und Jack schien wieder zu sich zu kommen und sich selber zu sein. Also, der letzte Viertel und Jack spielte wieder.

Naja.

Viele Freunde auf der anderen Mannschaft hat Jack in den bissherigen Vierteln nicht gewonnen. Jack bekam viel von dem und einiges mehr, was er ausgelöffelt hatte, von den anderen, grösseren Jungs und auch gleichzeitig von der gesamten Mannschaft zurück. Unter dem Motto, "Turnabout is fair play". Was Jack für seine gesamten bösen Bemühungen bekam waren ein 1-6 Verlust, einen verstauchten Fuss, ein blaues Auge und viele böse Blicke. Ich bekam nach bitten der anderen Mannschaft für Jacks geschwollenes Auge nicht mal etwas Eis. Besonders nett war das von den Erwachsenen nicht, hier ein neun-Jähriges Kind mit einer Prellung am Auge ... aber was hätte ich sagen können? Ich habe das Teufelkind ausgebrutet. Aber ich habe ihm doch nur HABA-Spielzeuge als Baby gegeben! Organisches Essen ... Und wir gucken kein Fernsehen. Er ist ein wirklich lieber Kerl ... sonst, wirklich ...

Jack ist verletzt. Er ist enttäuscht. Ich bin enttäuscht. Mein Jack.

Das ist wohl die Frage: Wenn die anderen viel grösser sind und du fühlst dich in der Situation ganz allein gegen ihnen, wenn alle Wahrscheinlichkeiten gegen dich stehen, solltest du nicht etwas unfair spielen? Und wenn die grossen auf einmal unfair verhandeln, solltest du auch nicht etwas Dreck ihnen zuschmeissen? Und wenn sie mogeln und der Schiedsrichter nichts sagt, was dann?

Was soll ich in diesem Fall unternehmen? Was bekäme ich für meine ganzen Bemühungen? Einen verstauchten Fuß und ein blaues Auge?

Im Moment, das einzige, was mir einfällt, ist Pfannekuchen essen zu gehen. Das Schwellen ist nun weniger. Eine Prellung wird's geben, sowie ein angeschlagenes Selbstwertgefühl. Ich bin der Ansicht, dass wir erstmal alle Pfannekuchen essen gehen sollen.

Laguna: True story

I about figured I'd about dried up my well on ideas--really novel ideas--for children's clothing. I mean, I took that J-shaped bias-cut flounce and made, well, let's see, a skirt, a shirt, two pairs of trousers and a hat with it. Not much left there (socks, anyone?). I took that petal shape and made two variations of a dress and then a jacket. And later I messed with the classic kilt. And this and that. And then the ideas weren't coming. A couple things here and there, but nothing that really said, "never been done before." Most humans are configured around two legs, two arms and a head all stuck on a torso and there are only so many ways to wrap cloth around that arrangement and still ride the bus to school.

Nothing to do but move on and distract myself with some Robert Jordan. Now, if you're not familiar with the Wheel of Time series, and if you skew a little D&D/WoW/Tolkien/Joseph Campbell, if you prefer a movie with a clash of steel rather than a stirring moment of personal epiphany, I'd recommend this series highly. I'd also tell you in equal measure to leave it alone. Here's the deal: It's 11 books. E-lev-en. All in the vein of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, each about 800 pages long, with hundreds of deeply developed characters, the Light, the Dark, the yin, the yang, plots, sub-plots, sub-sub-plots, sub-sub-sub-plots, twists, turns, twisty turns, turny twists, twisty trysts, trusty horses, tricksey innkeepers, traipsing maidens, tell-all trollops, talking trees, fantastical places, fanatical prophecies, monsters, magic, murders, conniving, contriving, cavorting, conspiring, carousing, arousing, alliances, allegiances, allegory, axes to grind, battle axes, betrayal, blood, buxom bodices, banners, dashing calve muscles, jutting jaw lines, chansons d'amour, dented armor, wounded pride, embroidery (the author spends a lot of time describing embroidery), swords, symbols, assailants, secrets, scars, spears, ceremony, sniffing, huffing, sweating, swearing, glaring ... This all culminating into a final and epic battle between the Dark and the Light. Which is all fine and good.

Except.

Except it doesn't: It doesn't culminate.

There's a 12th book and final book in the works, a book in which this final battle and the fate of the world is determined. And not only that, but the fate of that queen and her twins and her mother, who everybody thinks is dead, but isn't, and that last king's lost kingdom and whatever the deal is with that sassy falcon girl and her broken crown, and those killer magic guys and will they ever get along with the snooty magic women, especially that really whack killer magic guy, the one who wants all the power, and those creepy humans brought back to life and that big hairy guy and his book, and the totally gutsy über-magic girl, who was taken prisoner by the nasty other magic witch lady, and let's not forget that fox man and his spooky empress of a wife and that magic collar thing and the main character, who still has to save the world, now with one less hand, and who's really that one queen's (yeah, and he's the father of the twins) brother (who'd have thought?) and has another man's voice in his head and those people who live on ships and those nutty desert dwellers and that one magic lady, who you knew wasn't gone forever, neither her nor that other crazy broad with the hots for our hero ... well, leave it to say, a lot of loose ends can be created in 8000+ pages of 6-point font. Such as it is, the hero that was to take us into this epic battle, the author himself, Mr. Jordan, passed away this past September before he completed the final book in this saga.

Of course, it must be said that the battle between Light and Dark is eternal and never resolved and as such, if the series is never finished, it would be most fitting, appropriate and in and of itself metaphoric for the allegory.

But still. There's no resolve to this cadence. It's Beethoven's 5th like this: "deh-deh-deh-DAHM!, deh-deh-deh----eh... um...uh...hm ... What was the question?"

Come on: If I could just know what happens to the falcon girl and her wolf man, and then the gambler dude and the bald empress, I'd be good. I'd have some closure.

Alas, I did not find closure on the whole eternal battle of Good and Evil reading these novels this summer.

However, I did find a new idea for a skirt! If you've read this far, you might have been wondering where this was headed. It all comes around again. In fact, the skirt itself all comes around again.

Here's the thing, in this series of books there is this parallel dream world. And to get into this world of dreams, the characters need this magic round thingamajig. I looked at the depiction of this round gizmo and thought, "That could be a skirt." I sliced up some fabric in such that way and made a skirt. And it worked. Then I made it a double-layer skirt and it worked even better. See? I have magic powers.

And so you have LAGUNA. Available at Farbenmix.

And maybe I've run out of ideas. And maybe not. I don't know how this story ends.

"There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of time.
But it was a beginning."

(Thus begins each Wheel of Time novel).

Ähm...

Jö...

Das ganze da oben übersetzen? Also: Ich habe in einem Roman ein bestimmtes Symbol gesehen und so kam ich auf die Idee für den LAGUNA-Rock.

Jö...

Das ist's. So ist's. Mehr steht da eigentlich nicht ... Es können einige viel mit wenig Worten sagen: Ich kann das umgekehrte--wenig mit viel Worten sagen. Vielleicht habe ich eine Zukunft als Politikerin.

Laguna: Skirt + Leggings

Laguna: Let me take you there

Music courtesy Plain White T's and Slide.com

LAGUNA available soon at Farbenmix.de

Fabrics: Banberryplace.com, Baby Chic Boutique, FabricHound.com

Laguna