We are Thankful...

Recently I won an important argument. Yes, I’ll share details. It went like this:

Fun me: I should make a Thanksgiving banner to hang out front. Thanksgiving doesn’t get enough attention as far as decorations. It’s squeezed in between Halloween and Christmas and people don’t decorate for it. (It could be that they’re waking up at 2am on Thanksgiving to start cooking and they don’t have time to decorate. This is not me, by the way. 2am is sleep time.) But really, think about it. People decorate for Halloween. People decorate for Christmas. Thanksgiving? Not so much.

Responsible me: Decorating is fun, yes. But there is plenty of cleaning to do around here. Boring chores galore. I don’t think making a banner is urgent. That pile of dishes is almost touching the ceiling.

Fun me: Yawn, yawn. Dishes and chores can wait. After all, they have been ignored around here plenty of times and it’s not like they threw down their dirty dish cloth and screamed, “I’m out of here!” (Actually that would be welcomed. If chores simply left because I was ignoring them it would help me out…)

Responsible me: Is this just an excuse for you to ignore chores and do something you like?

Fun me: (shocked) I am so misunderstood! It is not about my selfish preference to make art. I am being selfless, thinking only about how ignored Thanksgiving must feel.

Responsible me: This isn’t procrastination?

Fun me: You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Responsible me: You swear you’re going to do the dishes later?

Fun me: I made no such promise. And shhhhhh. I’m trying to brainstorm designs for this banner.

Responsible me: I give up. There’s no point in arguing with you. You win. Get your craft on.

Fun me: I’m so glad you’ve decided to be reasonable about this. You’ll love my banner!

Responsible me: Yeah sure, fine, whatever. I have to go to bed. You’ve given me a headache…

Fun me: No problem. I’ll stay up and get stuff done while you sleep…Now where’s my hot glue gun?

 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

 

Animal Behavior

If you read my recent post about the Isetta (what do I mean “if?” Of course you did! And you loved it, too!), you will recall my mentioning the illustrator Richard Scarry. Maybe I’ll call this Scarry Week here on my blog, because I’m about to mention him again. (Note the extra “r” in his name. Scary week—with one "r"—was Halloween week. This is different…)

Scarry illustrated many children’s books (more than three hundred). Some illustrations were playful and cartoony, but his talent went beyond cartoons. He painted beautifully and realistically, which you see in illustrations like this, from I am a Bunny:

 

I like Scarry’s illustrations of fall from his book Richard Scarry’s Best Word Book Ever (yep, that’s the whole title):

We don’t burn leaves like this now, but why haggle over details? Look how charming it is to see the bear rake leaves:

I think bears get too much of a bad rap. Everyone warns that they’ll break your car windows to get your picnic basket (pick-a-nick basket if we’re talking about Yogi Bear). But in some parts of the world, as Scarry has shown, bears are responsible creatures that rake their own leaves and even wear clothes when it gets extra cold. That hibernation story must be an urban legend…


And check out the turkey:

 

He seems like a very competent driver. Both wings are on the steering wheel. No texting and driving for that turkey…

I know I’m not the first person ever to say this, but we can learn a lot from our animal friends...

And The Green Plants Grew All Around, All Around, And the Green Plants Grew All Around

(Well, that’s the longest title I’ve ever given to a post! If you don’t know the song I was referencing it's a classic folk song, “The Green Grass Grew…” and you must check it out online.)
 

You’ve probably been on the edge of your seat, wondering why I haven't blogged about the community garden lately.

 

You see, I’ve wanted to make sure you were good and ready for an update. If I yap about it every day, you wouldn’t be as excited by the updates. Plus, I’ve been a little busy. The school year is a non-stop sprint when you have school-aged kids!

 

So let's back up a minute. Over the summer we expanded our community garden. Some of the new garden beds are growing with major gusto. Here are a few photos of some of the beds. I’m not always sure what’s growing in them (as in the photo below) but I still find it exciting to watch things grow:

 

 

Since I haven’t been at the garden as much in the last few months, I notice major change when I do pop in to see what’s growing.
 

 

This weekend I spent some time in the garden. It was a beautiful day: not hot, not cold—just right. Butterflies and hummingbirds meandered through while I was visiting. People wandered in and we chatted. Radios blared from the street a few feet away. The siren wailed from the fire station. But even noises like that don’t disrupt the serenity I feel at the garden. All the sounds blended into a vibrant soundtrack and I felt happy and alive while I was there. It feels like a modern day town square, the crossroads of a neighborhood, filled with activity. But it’s also a harmonious place where you can just be. Somehow the garden is simultaneously humming busily and breathing peacefully. 

Because it is Thanksgiving week here in America, let me say that I am so thankful for this garden…I give my garden bed water, the rare haircut and occasionally I dig some coffee grounds into the soil. I give it some care, but it gives me back so much more. And I am grateful for what it brings to my life…

Isetta and Drive-a

(The first draft of this post was written on Nov. 23, 2011; It finally was posted on my blog on Nov. 23, 2014. Three years later. I feel a little silly that it sat unfinished for that long. It’s true that I get all gung ho starting projects and that I sometimes don’t finish them. Three years seems like a long time to let this post marinate. Of course not when I compare it to the age of our planet…)

 

‘Twas the day before Thanksgiving,

with much cleaning to do,

but Sarah was gazing online

at cars that looked like shoes.

 

It’s true. Thanksgiving (2011) is tomorrow and I do have tons of cleaning to do before people come over. But I’m procrastinating. I mean, I’m doing important research on my blog post about the Isetta. Do you know it? It’s a teeny, three-wheeled car from the 1950s and 60s. I love things from this era and this is no exception.

 

Before I go any further, allow me to do a mini Italian lesson. (I used to be fairly fluent in Italian and I studied there when I was twenty-one.) Please pronounce it like this: EEE-set-tuh. Not, I repeat not, like this: EYE-set-tuh. In Italian the “I” has an “eeeee” sound. When you start sharing facts about the Isetta with your friends, you want to pronounce this correctly, right? (On a related note, Iran and Iraq are not pronounced “EYE-ran” and “EYE-rack.” Talk to any person from Iran or Iraq and listen to how they pronounce it!)

My mom likened the Isetta to the cars Richard Scarry drew, which is right-on! Here are two of Scarry’s illustrations that remind me a lot of the Isetta:

  

 

 

 

 

(The photo above must have been a later incarnation, with four wheels. But its top remains mostly glass, like the earliest models, and like Scarry's illustrations.)

 

Of course, Scarry illustrated books in the 1960s, and Isettas are from that time period so the similarity makes sense. My appreciation for items from that time period comes from the rounded shapes used in a lot of designs from the ‘50s and ‘60s, from toasters to cars. Compared with cars of today, ‘60s cars had a lot of glass and chrome, rounded edges, and a more playful, less boxy look.

Isettas are were not the only microcars developed in the 1950s and 60s. (Microcars are exactly what they sound like: cars that look like they were shrunk in the hot water cycle.) Microcars were developed in Europe after World War II, when small vehicles were in demand because of their fuel efficiency. But today I’m focusing on the Isetta. Their small size (only 7.5 ft long by 4.5 ft wide) and unusual design make Isettas intriguing. But what really fascinated me about Isettas was that they opened at the front, like a refrigerator. An Italian company named Iso SpA, which built refrigerators and motor scooters, made its first foray into car design in 1955. Their engineers decided to use elements of what they already made, and when they combined an engine from their scooters and a door from their refrigerators, the Isetta was born. (Oh, how I love this charming backstory!)

 

Isettas were known as bubble cars because of their curved body style and almost all-glass tops. There are other bubble cars, including the one, below: 

 

 

In the 1950s Isettas were built in various countries including Spain, Germany, France, Great Britain, Belgium, and Brazil. In 1954, the French company VELAM acquired a licence from Iso to make a car based on the Isetta. Iso had sold the body making equipment to BMW, so VELAM developed their own body but used the original Iso engine. The VELAM body was rounder and more egg-like than Iso's Isetta.

 

In 1955, Iso licensed the Isetta to Romi, a Brazilian company. With each new manufacturer, the body style changed slightly. Some companies chose to elongate the car so that more people could fit into it. Other companies made their microcars pointy or squarish. But for me, the original Isetta design wins in cuteness and originality.


In 1962 manufacturing of the Isetta was stopped. Among other factors, competition from the VW Beetle and Fiat created less demand for the Isetta. The Isetta’s seven year ride was short but this unusual car has not been forgotten. Today small cars are in demand due to fuel prices and a growing concern about the environment. Fuel-efficient cars, electric cars and hybrids are popular. I’d like to think that the Smart Car has picked up where the Isetta left off. It’s small, it’s very different-looking and it’s fuel-efficient. Did I mention cute? (No, I don’t drive one, nor do I work for Smart Car!)


I’m a good driver but I don’t understand much about how car engines work. I am convinced a really fast hamster is running through a wheel under the hood to power my car. Even if I know very little about how cars work, I’m intrigued by the design of cars from the 50s and 60s. Cars had such unusual design features back then: exaggerated lines and curves and true personality. And some had really fun, pointy tail fins!


This is only somewhat related to our chat about the Isetta, but I did spot a tuk-tuk on the streets of San Diego a few years back. It too is three-wheeled, small and efficient. I was shocked to see it!

That’s why I’m keeping my eyes peeled, people. I’m always on the lookout for something unusual and I feel it’s my calling to share my observations and photos with you. Fear not: this won’t be my last post about vintage cars or unusual sights. I’m on it…
 

Til We Meet Again...

A little more than a month ago I wrote a serious essay about death and life. Although I planned to post it immediately, I didn’t. Instead I let it sit for a while until I felt ready to post it. Here’s what I wrote:

Mostly my blog is a collection of funny (true) stories and craft projects but sometimes life serves up something very serious and I feel a need to work it out in my blog. Why talk about death in a blog? Is it too personal of a subject? In some ways, yes. But it’s also a universal theme. Instead of avoiding something that we all witness and mourn, maybe we can share experiences and be supportive of one another because we all go through this.

This fall three people I knew died within eight weeks. That is a lot. Life and death are on my mind these days. In late August we learned that our former neighbor John passed away. We’d lived across the street from John for nine years before he had to move to assisted living. He was the neighbor who inspired me to be a great neighbor. The second time I ever spoke with John was on a Wednesday, trash day, and he was bringing trash cans up the driveway after collection. He was doing this for the entire block. John did this every Wednesday. It was his way of being a good neighbor. That stuck with me. He did this for years before his health worsened. Nearly two years ago John moved to assisted living. He was in his eighties and his body and brain were not in prime shape anymore. So his death was not a complete shock but it was still sad. We went to John’s memorial service to support his kids, whom we know. He was a wonderful neighbor and I feel grateful to have known him.

The second death this fall was the hardest. My husband’s godson Keil died in late September, after a nearly four year battle against bone cancer. He was only twenty-two and his youth makes his death so hard to try to accept and understand. The cancer started in his knee. At age nineteen he had most of his leg removed. There were lots of stays in the hospital. The cancer spread. He had surgeries. Yet things seemed to be looking up even a few months ago, and this gave us a false sense of hope. But cancer is a sneaky creature and it quietly crept into Keil’s abdomen. They tried again to treat it but it was too late. In September we learned that Keil had only a few weeks to live and we made reservations to fly up to see him. When Keil took a turn for the worse a few days later, Hubby made a last-minute trip to see him. We didn’t know whether Keil would live long enough for us to use the tickets we’d bought to see him the following week. But he did. That kid was a fighter. It was awful to see him in a bed in a hospice facility, medicated and unconscious. But we also cherished the chance to see him one last time. We held his hands and talked to him about all kinds of things, telling him our favorite memories from his childhood. We had hours with him that day, and late that night we told him we’d return the next morning. But he passed away overnight. Somehow I was shocked. A living, breathing, warm-handed young man with soft hair and a pulse was now dead. We were so grateful that we were there to support him on his last day. His family is coping as well as they can. They are surrounded by many friends and family members.

We flew into town for Keil’s memorial service. There were lots of tears. This young man did not live as long as he deserved. In this country, where we have excellent medical care, it’s easy to assume we will have many decades of life. At first it felt impossible to accept the unfairness of it all. But it’s slowly sinking in. And the memorial service seemed to help many of us to heal a little bit. There’s no way to wrap up this loss with a bow and make it okay. But I see moments of catharsis. Keil’s younger sister spoke about her brother during the service. She shared funny memories, and everyone laughed. There’s some healing in laughter. It helped us to remember Keil’s humor. His friends spoke at the reception, telling amusing tales about Keil. It was so moving to listen to a bunch of 22-year-olds pay tribute to their friend, a guy who made them feel more comfortable in their own skin, who made them see that they were okay, human warts and all. I marveled at the maturity of Keil’s friends, who visited him in hospice. I don’t know if I would have been able to handle seeing a peer so close to death when I was twenty-two. But his friends visited, again and again. That alone shows the kind of impact Keil had in his short life. He deserved a longer stay here but in the time he had, Keil brought laughter to those around him, and made a difference to people.

Keil’s final battle shared the same timeline as my great aunt Kay’s last weeks. She’s the extraordinary woman who celebrated her 104^th birthday this August, which my daughter and I attended in Canada. In the weeks after Kay’s birthday, I received emails from her daughter about her health. There were some medical concerns and at one point she was eating only a little each day. Some emails suggested there were only a few days left, but at one point her doctors predicted she’d make it into the new year. Ironically, as I stepped out of the church after Keil’s memorial service, I received an email with the news that Kay had passed away in her sleep that morning. The timing of the news felt significant, as Keil and Kay both began their final laps at the same time. I felt sad that she had passed, but this felt different from the horror of Keil’s passing. The contrast struck me again and again: Keil’s life was unfairly cut short, while Kay’s life was exceptionally long. Both people have inspired me in different ways.

I’m still grappling with all this. It takes time to make peace with someone’s passing. It’s easier to accept death if it happens to someone who had a long, happy life, like John and Kay did. It’s different coming to terms with someone whose life was cut short. But going to Keil’s memorial service helped me, and it appeared to help the others who came to honor him. Keil’s parents, sister and other family members seemed to find comfort in being around others who love and miss him, and in laughing about the funny times and the good memories. And it is cliché, but it did remind me to be present, to treasure the moments and the connections with people. It reminds me to call those I love and to tell people when they inspire me.

Keil’s untimely death led his friends to become closer at the end. They’ll miss him, always. But as I told one young man at the reception, he will make other close friends in his life because he has felt how important it is to connect with others. This young man will be a true friend to others and will have other good friends in his life. It’s awful when we lose someone but attachment to others is part of what makes us human, and part of what it means to live a meaningful life. I’ll miss John, Keil and Kay, but I feel so fortunate to have known them all…                                                                                  

Twister Dress

 

Have you played Twister lately? For me it’s been a long, long time. In fact, this game was completely off my radar until last fall, when I saw some kids playing Twister at a party. If it’s been a while, let me refresh your memory: Twister is the game that asks you to weave your body into a knot as you simultaneously put your hands and feet on different colored circles. I took one look at the Twister floor mat and decided I wanted to make a dress inspired by the game. I decided I’d use the bright colors used in the game against a white background so they colors would really pop.

Here is my initial sketch:

This is a photo of my creation in progress:

And here it is, finished:

It took a left turn at some point and veered a bit from my initial design. But then again, initial designs are not carved in stone. They are a jumping-off point and if you come up with a more creative idea after the initial sketch, that’s great.

I used hundreds of plastic buttons and hot glue to transform an ordinary white sundress (thrifted) into the magic you see here.

In case you haven’t been into a craft or fabric store lately, you’d be amazed at how many delightful buttons there are: many shapes, colors, sizes and designs. I am not the first person to put buttons onto clothes as decoration. But I think it’s a fun idea and an imaginative way to bring color and pattern to clothes. I’m here to put the fun into the function of buttons.  

I love wearing something that involves an unexpected element and hundreds of buttons seem to qualify as unexpected. This dress also scratches my itch to use lots of color.

Let me know if any of your clothes could use a little more button pizazz. My hot glue gun is ready!

Special Delivery

Earlier this year I discovered a piece of the past that has loads of charm and a good back story. That’s all it takes to pique my curiosity.

Have you ever heard of Mailsters? Officially called Westcoaster Mailsters. They were three-wheeled vehicles used for mail delivery in the USA in the 1950s and 60s.

I discovered these darling little cars quite by accident while in a post office I’d never been in before. (As you may know, this is how I find many blog topics: by stumbling upon something intriguing.)

This model was from 1966, after various modifications to the original design had been made:

 

I love the design of anything from the 1950s and 60s: the rounded corners of things made in that decade make everything look friendlier. There’s something so charming about the design itself. It looks like an adorable toy! It reminds me a bit of another vehicle that has fascinated me for years: the Isetta. (I actually once drafted a blog post on the darling Isetta but it’s been on back burner for a while. Three years, if we want to split hairs. I’ve been a little busy…Perhaps this post will kick me into gear on the Isetta post!)

Like most inventions, the Mailster was created in order to save effort and time, and therefore money. Some carriers rode bicycles to deliver mail but most walked. By driving Mailsters, which could carry 500 pounds of mail, postal carriers could cover more ground in less time than they could on foot. In their heyday (1966) there were approximately 17,700 Mailsters in use.

Below is a photo of a 1955 Mailster, before they were designed with doors:

 

Although it looks like a large toy, the Mailster could travel as fast as 35 miles per hour. Drawbacks to the design included the fact that it only took three inches of snow to render the vehicles unusable. Another issue was the Mailster’s likelihood of tipping over if it rounded a corner too quickly. One carrier even complained that a large dog tipped over his Mailster (the dog must have shared my take that this was a toy). Eventually Jeeps replaced Mailsters because the US Postal Department needed reliable vehicles. I get that. But for the fun factor, I cast my vote with Mailsters.