{quilt} while you're ahead

*106** postcards from Palm Springs

Today we left the Parker hotel to try out some other place with a different atmosphere, but I can't just leave you with that... this place needs to be seen.

It could be in fact be called Instagram hotel... everywhere you look there's a photo that demands to be taken.

... gold finger... (did I tell you we bumped into Dame Shirley Bassey at the airport... not physically bumped into her, but you know what I mean... and we totally kick ourselves we didn't ask for a photo!)

(we're totalling stealing the glass coloured idea.  Totally)

I love that head/vase thing.

And all that is just the lobby!

Our room was cool but I forgot to take a picture when it was all tidy so let's stick to the bathroom...

(Bonkers wallpaper and Richard Burton on the wall)

(those tiles.. oh those tiles..)

I'll show you the new place another time for now let me take you instead to the amazing house that Elvis the Pelvis used to rent and where him and Priscilla spent their honeymoon in... a.m.a.z.i.n.g.... and totally frozen in time.

... the King's actual bed... how mad is that?

Mike, the guide/Elvis man knew everything there was to know and we sat for ages in that room chatting.  

Yes I sat on Elvis' bed.

No Mike was not dressed like Elvis Presley.

 

It's so sad the dude died at only 42yrs old.  I mean he's was born the same year as my father in law.

Elvis could be my father in law.  Now that would be cool.  

 

And totally weird, right?

*105** postcards from Palm Springs

Today was exactly like I thought Palm Springs would be

Blue sky and palms.

Fabulous.

I went for a walk this morning whilst Mr M hit the gym...

The air was warm and clear

(I'm getting slightly obsessed with mail boxes...)

Then after a late breakfast we drove to the airport.  My American sister and her husband had just flown in from San Diego and super kindly took us up in the air for an amazing view...

So so cool...

... and such a small plane!

 

Good day.  Very good day.

 

 

 

*104** postcards from Palm Springs

... so you know the bit about 'sunny California'?

Well they lied.

About an hour after we landed this happened:

Ridiculous.

Anyway, the flight was great (annoying kid aside. not ours, we left ours behind with my parents), we exited passport control in record time, faffed about with the luggage a little and then lost an hour at the car rental place... there were 24 people in front of us.

And then rain.

Sigh.

 

We're staying for the first three nights at the Parker Hotel.  

Very funky.  Designed by Jonathan Adler and full of amazing vintage stuff.

This corridor is a little creepy though, don't you think?

Our room is lovely, and not creepy at all and full of things that I want to take home with me... including a gorgeous tapestry on the wall and this cute pillows

(do you think they'll notice if it disappears?)

Very comfortable bed.

And very cool bathroom covered in tiny round, white tiles and with a large photograph of Richard Burton above the toilette.  (Sightly weird that).

 

This morning? 

Yup, rain again.

What is going on?

Not a day to lazy around the pool, so we jumped in the car and explored.  

After lots of shops full of midcentury furniture and 'stuff' that made Mr M very very happy we stumbled on this area full of really cool houses...

Indulge me please.

Can you see that sky???

Seriously? It was like being on a movie set!

 

*103**

Randomly on a Wednesday:

I finished Bruce's autobiography.  Brilliant Book.  Fair enough I might be a teensy weensy bit biased but I really enjoyed it.  I made me re-listened to a lot of music I hadn't listened to for years and years.... It was quite... grounding for want of a better word.  Like it tightened the connection between my younger, free/dreaming self and my middle aged (let's not kid ourselves here), mother/wife/housewife self.

I am but one an only.

I don't like biography but weirdly and the only three I've ever read have been of musicians: Keith Richards, book club choice.  I'm not a Rolling Stone fan, and the one of the crazy singer dude of the Red Hot Chilly Pepper, and I don't like their music either, maybe the book was a present?  They were both vaguely interesting in a 'they're-life-could;t-be-more-different-from-mine kind of way. 

 

Mr M and I have finally and very belatedly joined the "homeland" fandom.  I think it's safe to say we're obsessed.  We watched two or three episode a night... We're only half way series 3 so DON'T say anything. Please.

 

I've finished No 3's quilt and I'll try photographing it later... I need his 6'2" height to hold it up... and as you know teenagers are not always collaborators, not when 'he's playing a competitive and he'll get banned if he stops'.  Whatever.  Bloody computer games.

 

I've started de-constructing the indigo dyed vintage quilt:

The hideous background who didn't take the colour as it's obviously synthetic needs to go and be replaced.  It's quite a slow process but I like the fact I'm in no rush and can unpick a little bit now, a little bit later... It's meditative in an otherwise frantic day to day.

I almost don't want to do it quickly.

 

First day of half-term for us today.  It's 9.40 and the boys are all still in bed.

They also brought home their school reports.  Some take things less seriously than others:

 

It's Autumn... and people have started losing stuff:

*102** more book talk

This week my brain has been working out, and you know what?  It feels wonderful.  I feel wonderful.  Everything is wonderful!

(And I have un umpire for Sunday hockey match which, I totally understand, doesn't mean anything to you but it's been keeping me awake at night and totally stressing me out.  But no more.)

I've been to a few events at the Cheltenham Literary Festival and I swear to you it's like my mind has been on holiday... I've been more productive at home, my ironing basket is empty and the laundry pile is at a year low level.  There's food in the fridge, I know exactly what I'm going to feed my tribe tonight and the beds are made.  It's pizza.  It's Friday so it's pizza right, it's what they want and sometimes I give them what they want... I'm nice like that.

The only thing that is 'slightly' out of control is my 'to read' pile

I find it really hard when an author I like talks enthusiastically about his/her book not to buy it afterword.  And i'm s sucker for a signed book. By the author that is.  Not by 'auntie Mary on your 13th birthday' kind signature, the one that you find in second hand books, although they can be funny too.

First event I attended was  Maggie O' Farrell.  Brilliant.  She seemed very unaffected, approachable, smart, funny.  The type of woman you can imagine sitting at your table and have a good chat with.  Pleasantly surprised as I had NO idea of what she could be like.  Incidentally The disappearing act of Esme Lennox is a fabulous book. 

Then I went to see Graham Swift.  I'm not sure why.  I'd seen him before, talking about his book 'Last orders'. I'm not sure I liked it.   This time he talked about 'Mothering Sunday', which I've just finished and enjoyed very much.  He's very English, very certain of his intellectual capacity and I'm not sure he enjoys the public talks as much as tries to portrays.  Probably not good for a dinner party (although I'm sure there's more to him that meets he eye, occasionally some good dry English humour escaped his well tight persona), but very good for a train journey.  Does that make sense?

This was followed by an extremely enjoyable hour with Jonathan Safran Foer.  Intense young man. (I say young... a couple of years younger than me!).  I'd only read one boo of his,  'Extremely loud and incredible close' which I though was absolutely great.  I look forward to his other two books.  Plus his autographs are really cool.

Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things but to use my wise grandma's wise phrase... 'it all adds flavour to the soup'.

Yesterday I attended two more events.  The first one was about Turner, the great English landscape painter; it could appear as a random choice but I knew nothing about Turner and now I do, a little more, so that's a win win for me.  No I didn't buy one of his painting... can you imagine that?  

And last night I sat in on a talk about 'The great American novel' and it was fascinating.

My 'reading in English career' (career? you know what I mean) started when I was 18 and was spending the summer in Milwaukee (which I only knew it existed because of Laverne and Shirley) at my American sister's house.  My first ever book in English?  'Misery' by Stephen King.

Yeah.

Whatever.  (It's a very good book though).

Since then I've always been fond and enjoyed more the 'American' voices in all it's various tones, and I left after last night with a long list of books I apparently must ready.  

Oh boy.

It'll never end.

 

Which is a good thing, right?

*101** the skirt edition

Last week I decided to tidy up my desktop of all the bookmarks clutter accumulated during the last few years and stumbled upon this video:

 

... I think it was around the time I bought a serger and fancied myself as being able to use it!

Ha.

Nope.

Anyway, the starts must have been aligned in the right way because I decided to watch the video there and then and then even act on it.  I cleared my table, grabbed this really cute striped jersey fabric and followed the instructions.

Which are great.  The instructions are simple and I learned a lot (how to use the zigzag on jersey and how to attach the elastic straight onto the waistband).  I didn't even use the serger but my trusty Bernina and the result was this:

... which looks ok, feels great (so very soft) BUT it's so badly made is hilarious.  The fabric was very very thin so I had to double it.. and as a consequence even cutting it was a nightmare.  Not to mention sewing through 4 layers of slippery jersey material.  I'll wear it, don't you worry.... let's just hope nobody looks to closely.

I loved the whole pattern and I decided that what I needed was the right fabric and because the project only needs one yard I took myself to the fabric shop without feeling guilty.

And I made this:

(yeah, Lilli was a great help...)

£6.00, it cost me.  How fab is that???

This time I used a much thicker jersey (not sweatshirt weight though) and I'm so very pleased.  They might look the same, but trust me, they're not.  Straight seams and hems do make a big difference.

I was amazed at how quickly these can be  made.  And they're so comfortable.  And they're highly addictive... And I already have a red/white strip piece of fabric  ready to replace the dodgy one...  And I'm on the look out for 'winter' colours.

And you must try it.

Go on, do it, what are you waiting for?

 

 

 

 (my desktop is still a total mess)

*100** let's talk books!

I love reading.  LOVE.

When I was young my mum used to tell me off because I read 'too much' and I had to go off to do... 'something else'.  That was her suggestion: stop reading and go do something else.

Helpful, right?... And totally hilarious now that she says the same thing to my kids replacing books with phone.  You're on the phone too much, go and do something else.

History always repeats itself.

(Also my mother has a smart phone, an Instagram account and must have been the 4th person in the world to join Facebook.  Just saying...  

 

The last book I finished was this one:

It was a birthday present and I wasn't sure about it at first.  The writer 'Sasa Stanisic', was born in Visegrad (Bosnia) just like the narrator, and just like the narrator moved to Germany as a teenager refugee during the war.  I don't know how much of the book is autobiographical... I haven't been able to find out.

The story is not linear at all and it took me awhile to piece together the characters and who was who and when the action was happening etc.  I struggled at first, but I was compelled to carry on by the quirky language and in the end I loved it.  Maybe things clicked in my head and I 'got it'... I don't know but I'm so glad I persevered.

The story is loosely based around the time of the  Bosnian war, the narrator is a boy who talks about his family scattered by the war and his town destroyed by it.  Atrocities are mentioned almost in passing so much so that at times I had to go back and make sure that I'd read it correctly.

It's different, the style, the language... all of it.  Different.  I'm glad I was given it.  Worth a try if you fancy something different.

 

Next up (who am I kidding I'm already 50 pages into it is this...

... and love it... let's face it... Bruce is a legend, right?

 

What are you reading at the moment?

*99** food.

Catchy title, I know.

The thing is I've just had a very stressful hour and I'm still a little frazzled.  

Why?  You may ask... let me tell you .... One thing that you might not know about me is that I get dates wrong.

A lot.

And I don't mean I miss birthdays or important dates (I'm good at remembering those)... no I mean I book things on the wrong day, or I forget I booked something and don't show up, or I book it on the right date and write it down in my diary on the wrong night so I still miss it...

I mean... I don't do this 'all the time' (now that would be worrying)... just frequently enough that it's getting noticeable.  (Drives Mr M slightly mad.  Just a little bit...)

Sigh.  

So this afternoon my mother called me and tells me the flights I booked for her and dad to come and look after the boys when Mr M and I go to Palm Spring at the end of the month... are the wrong way around... the outbound flight on the inbound date and vice versa.

AAARRGGHHHH...

 

It's all sorted now but Mr M's eyes are still in the back of his head he rolled them so much...

 

Anyway, back to food.  

I love cookery books.

Recently I had a little tidy up and got rid of the ones I know I'll never use (and put the left over in some sort of colour coordinate order - which btw will change as soon as I'll finish writing this post, it's just not right) and leafed through the others.

I found this one I didn't even know I had?!  A present?  It's brilliant so why hasn't it ever been used?

I'm not very good nor very confident in cooking meat but the boys love it so I picked a recipe and got to work

Ribs.  Who doesn't love ribs, right?

And the results?

It kind of proved my point about cooking meat.  It's never as easy as it seems.

The recipe for the sauce was great and tasted delicious... The meat was... hard.  

Was it the meat's fault? A bad piece?  I followed the recipe but maybe I went wrong somewhere?  The wrong sort of ribs?

I don't know,  The boys ate them because they're feral and rather than eating the braised courgettes they'd have eaten the chairs but still, I was a little disappointed.

 

Tonight we'll try another new thing:

Purple potatoes.

"Violetta" potatoes to be precise.

I'm going to mash them... they should make a lovely lilac mash which tastes the same as the normal one.

(Although it'll clash terribly with the green beans and the salmon... oh well)

*98** what a day (again)

So yesterday...

Drove the kids to the school bus, drove back, cleared the kitchen, filled the dishwasher, made my bed, emptied the drier, emptied the washing machine, filled the drier, filled the washing machine.

Took my big car to be serviced and got a tiny car in return for the day which was soooooo hard to get in and out after the double exercise classes of yesterday it wasn't funny at all.

Not one bit.  I must have looked like a right idiot taking 45 seconds each time

Ridiculous.

Then I went to the supermarket because apparently the universe might have imploded without Nutella for another day... obvs.

Then I drove to school (45 min of roadworks) to pick up No 3 and take him to the specialist for his back.  He's fine.  He'll live.  He's most excited to have an MRI scan in a couple of days.  Weird child.

Then I drove him back to school (45 min of roadworks) and did my 'Italian lesson' to the pupils and teachers who are going to Florence next month.

Then I grabbed (figuratively speaking of course) No 2 from the same school and took him (45 min of roadworks) to fracture clinic where they put him in a 'soft cast' which we'll be able to remove without supervision or doctor checking in 5 weeks. 

MMmmmmmhhh.

What if it's not fixed? of badly fixed? or not fixed enough?

The doctor did NOT look like a doctor.  I know, I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover... but I've seen bin men dressed smarter.  Call me old fashioned, but... sweaty forehead and creased t-shirts?  Yuck.

Sigh...

Then I dropped him back home and I drove to the bus stop to pick up the other two.

Back home for home cooked Bolognese pasta (... she says smugly)... and THEN back to school for a meeting (45 min of roadworks).

 

I was dead.

The dog didn't get walked, but I did remove my make up before bed.

And I did finish the book...  which is totally brilliant until the last two pages then... well I'd like to say it's genius and I just don't get it... but actually it's probably just wrong and nonsensical and the author had lost the plot...

Read it and let me know what you think.  I'm seriously interested.

The highlight of my day:

... the Boss...

Sigh.

 

 

*97** what a day

So yesterday was quite an insane day.

In the morning I put my body through TWO exercise classes because I'm a klutz who can't even manage her diary obviously.  Oh boy.  Let's just say that if anybody mentions 'planks' or 'burpees' in my presence I won't be responsible for my actions. (Truth be known that not much will actually happen because I'm way too sore to do anything meaningful at all).

I then attended TWO school meetings TWO hours apart and had to go back home in between and feed my children some dubiously nutritionally balanced microwave lasagne for dinner.

The shame.

Italian mother's guilt and all that followed, but I told myself that it could be put down to a life-lesson for when they'll be in college and let's face it... they will most definitively not be cooking lasagne from scratch. 

The 'smell' certainly brought me back to my student days!!  Alarmingly Tesco still sells lasagne ready meal for £1.00 a pack.  That is an increase of only 0.01 pence since 1995.  That can't be right... right?  It's scary.  Either we were over charged (if you'd tasted them you'd see the irony of this statement) or today's price/ingredients should be investigated.  For real.

So two classes, two meetings, one visit from the cabinet maker, one from the glazier, one from the builder/contractor.  Numerous coffees were brewed for all of them.  The dog was walked.  

The hem was sewn on the Esme tunic from yesterday's post.

I went to bed without taking my mascara off which is as bad as feeding the precious fruits of loins microwave food.

I also started this book:

After my' two Popes in one day' day I couldn't resist it.  It's intriguing.

 

And don't you love a book with the bookmark/ribbon thingy?  What can I say... I'm easily pleased!