I didn’t take very many photos on the trip to Puerto Rico. I didn’t want my camera to get wet and sandy, and most of our fun was had at the beach. I’m not sad, but I felt silly that I think about taking “vacation photos” but rarely keep the camera with me on regular days. Monday was sunny and gorgeous and so I walked the few miles to the Hoyt subway stop on my way up to Columbia (first I thought, I’ll walk to Atlantic, then Nevins, but I didn’t get on a train until Hoyt).

The Hoyt stop is right up against the downton Brooklyn Macy’s — where ESPO has painted this gorgeous “Love Letter To Brooklyn” mural on the parking garage. I had seen it quickly, on bike, and of course on the internet, but it was great to discover it all over again, especially on a day that I set out to pay attention to the place I live the way that I had to each new thing when in Puerto Rico.

A few more:

I also noticed this excellent address ironwork:

And realized that we really are getting a stadium:

(Naomi and Naomi, walking in Vieques)

The thing about vacation — at least for me — is that time spent not doing certain things reminds me that I love them. And vacation is not really a time for making. I knit a little bit of sock when we were hanging out in our little traveller’s apartment one night, and I made us a salad when we realized that beer wasn’t really dinner, but vacation is not time for cooking or crafting. So it was nice to come home and trudge through the snow to the coop to buy oranges and meyer lemons and grapefruit for Three Citrus Marmalade . I zested, cut away the pith, supreme the segments, and boiled it all up with sugar. It took longer than I expected for the pot to hit 220 degrees, and even so I’m not sure that it really set, but I have 6 beautiful translucent jars of sweet and tart citrus deliciousness.

I made a dress! I had been working on it in bits and pieces, but took New Years Day off of schoolwork to finish it up. It’s Macaron from Colette Patterns, and the main fabric is stuff I bought at the Workroom back when I still lived in Toronto. I bought both blue and orange fabric to use as the contrast, but ultimately decided that the orange was better and that I could certainly use the blue for other project.

I made a size 8, and the only thing I modified was the length of the pleat stitches–it was tight around my butt so I picked them out and re-sewed so that they stopped above my butt. The whole thing is only okay–I know that I’m not a very careful sewer, so things don’t line up quite right everywhere. I’m much better with quilts because they work great even if they’re not totally square. It’s good to do some clothes-sewing once in a while to remember that it’s hard and time consuming and not the thing I’m best at. It’s easy to lust after dresses and pledge to make them, so I’m happy to remind myself that it’s not as easy as that.

The other day I took two of my wintercoats to get fixed. There’s a guy on Washington that did a great job taking in a Lily Pulitzer dress I bought secondhand for $30 even though it was a size too large, and so when I decided that two vintage coats that were my mom’s were worth saving despite missing toggles and a destroyed lining, I brought them over. The coat that needed a new lining is actually too big, and because he was going to reline it we/I decided that it should get taken in as well. It’s so impressive to watch someone who _is_ careful pay pin up a coat so that it fits properly. I also got an excellent earful about the economics of New York’s garment district! I already knew a bit about it because of the Design Trust’s Made in Midtown project, and it was great to hear my Crown Heights tailor talk about engaging with the district as part of his work.

Via Flickr:
I was in Brighton Beach the other week, and I bought these pickles for the label. They’re pretty good, but not great.

One thing the article mentions is a bunch of new books, including the new Bust DIY Guide to Life, most of which I find pretty bothersome, in that they are all really entry-level. I don’t need multiple books that are about cooking and crafting and cleaning and fixing stuff; at this point in my “career” I want more substantial books on the parts that I’m actually interested in. The internet is full of lots of intro and beginner stuff, what’s really hard is figuring out how to learn and advance, such as how to go from following canning recipes to understanding the science enough to make your own recipes and can things safely. If the world keeps pumping out these overly generalist books trying to capitalize on a trend, it belies the fact that it is a trend, and that you’re not expected to take it seriously, it’s just for dabbling.

I was, however, pleased that the article mentions the competitive aspect of some of these domesticity project (especially the ones with beautiful blogs). The WaPo says:

You could say these women are simply homemakers searching for a purpose beyond driving carpool. As work-life balance scholar Joan Williams tells me, extreme domesticity can be a refuge for educated women who’ve left the workforce: “You’ve been trained your entire life in a high-pressure, high-achievement atmosphere, and you need somewhere to put that,” she says. “So you turn your household into an arena for dazzling performance.”

I would have taken that sentiment in a different direction though, because I think the over-perfect aspect of some of these blogs (eg. the DIY projects in something like DesignSponge) is gross and annoying. Those of us who love canning and cooking and sewing and knitting and gardening do it because we love it, not because it makes for a perfect blog post to show off on to the internet design and lifestyle hubs. Things are canned to be eaten, not to be beautifully labeled and photographed (though those things are fun); tomatoes are grown and eaten because they are delicious, not because I’m showing off just how committed I am to overthrowing the industrial agro-food system (that change doesn’t come from the garden, I promise you). What I think is needed in this realm is more discussion of failures, mistakes, misconstrued goals and oh-yeah-that-will-make-do solutions. Because that’s how it really works, at least in my kitchen and on my needles.

UPDATE: I want to mention a few sites that really speak to my sensibilities about all this. Food in Jars is my very favourite canning blog, Punk Domestics understands the rough-around-the-edges approach (and has great stuff), You Grow Girl takes on gardening in small and odd spaces and learns from mistakes, and the Smitten Kitchen does magical things in a tiny kitchen. Oh, and of course, my friend Kat has thrifty fun in threadbare times.

I worked a Saturday night shift at the co-op, ringing up fun Saturday night groceries (lots of pints of ice cream, and ice cream sandwiches!), and got home at 11. I had bought 2 small heads of cauliflower to put up using the Curried Cauliflower recipe in Put ‘Em Up, and I decided just to go for it. I have a mixed CD from my friend and former roommate Holland called “late night baking” (the cover features a receipt for flour, baking powder, and chocolate chips timestamped at 2:12am); I suppose I could make a complementary version called “late night canning.”

And then I used a bicycle stamp to make the labels. Yay!

Also, gearing up for Thanksgiving, I made a batch of Cranberry Walnut Orange Mint Relish, from Karen Solomon’s Can It Bottle It Smoke It–a book I won from a giveaway over at Punk Domestics — one of the best canning sites there is. I am looking forward to eating this soon.

Fact: Jamie likes having her expectations calibrated.

Sherita lives at the corner of Atlantic and Classon. I bike by her all the time and she never ceases to amaze. What is she? What is her connection to heating oil?

And as it turns out, she is playing at Jalopy on Saturday.

(and here is Hollis with her amazing sign)

The thing that’s hard is explaining why the marathon is so great, though. My friend Ryan asked what it was that made the marathon inspiring, and I wrote back to him saying:

I don’t know how to explain just how amazing the marathon is. I never thought I would care until it ran by my house the first year I lived here and I just got all teary. I think it’s something about athleticism without sports stardom, about the collectivity of doing a thing, the way the city really changes to let this thing happen…and then add to that the people you know who are running (and have been training forever), and the blind runners and the guides to the blind runners…It’s all kinds of outstanding. It doesn’t make any sense, but it is.

Do any of you have a better way to explain why you love the Marathon?