So what’s next?

I’m ready to complete the book I’ve been working on. We met today and I turned over the final draft for a read-through before I print and bind it. As I’ve said before, this is a one-off commemorative volume. We’ve settled on the binding and the decoration for the cover. I have a nice batik print as the background for a silver foil starry sky and fireflies to be added.

I’ll do the final printing next week and finish the assembly and binding the week after. I’m not charging for this. If I am offered something, I might accept it, but I can’t price pain. Bookbinding and making are things I like to do. I charge a nominal sum for book repairs when I do those.

Most of the books I make are junk journals. That’s a fairly new type of book making – new as in the last ten years or so. It’s become a hobby or a business for lots of crafters. The difference between the forms of bookbinding is that junk journals are easier to make and the supplies for junk journals are found in your daily mail, your sewing box, your scrapbooking supplies, and around the house.

No special equipment is needed except a box cutter or scissors, a metal ruler, a cutting mat, assorted papers, and fabric scraps, glue, tape, a needle, and heavy thread or embroidery floss. For decorations, old greeting cards, magazine pages, and scraps of paper will suffice. Crayons, paints, colored pencils, ink pads and stamps are nice, but you don’t need to go overboard.

Most supplies can be gotten in the crafts section at the dollar store. For instance, Dollar Tree sells pokey tools, rulers, cutting mats, glue, inks, stencils, and other art supplies for $1.25 each. I was able to outfit my beginning bookbinding students with tools for a bit over $10 each. The costs came from their fees.

For junk journals, I use any old cardboard and the book cloth is made with iron-on interfacing. The stitching of the signatures is done directly on the spine and rarely covered up. Embellishments and pockets are added to hold snippets of papers and journaling cards. They are books to be written and drawn in. If something rips, a colorful tape will bind it together and become part of the decorations.

The type of binding I doing on this slim book involves more complicated assembly. I have the last of my archival quality book board to use. I will use the last of my acid-free tissue to line the fabric that will cover the boards. My industrial paper cutter will be used to assure clean edges. Acid free glue will hold cloth and boards together. Linen thread will bind the signatures. This will be a volume to be handed down to generations.

Once it is done, I will post a picture. Or maybe I should post pictures that show each step of the process.

Food math – rotisserie chicken style

Is it worth driving 8.3 miles and paying $65 a year to buy a $5 chicken twice a month? Or is it better to drive 2.7 miles and pay $8 a chicken unless I buy 2 at $6 each? Or is it better to drive 5.1 miles for a $5.99 chicken that’s the size of anemic parrot that gets eaten in two meals by a single person and makes slightly strange tasting soup? It’s the seasonings, not the freshness.

So I’m talking about three different stores here, Costco and two other multi-location stores that are also in town but don’t offer the same foods at all of their stores due to size differences.

The Costco chicken was huge compared to what I usually buy. I have a square container that can hold one of the brick shaped two quart cartons of ice cream. Every rotisserie chicken I have bought before the Costco chicken fit snuggly in that container and I could press the lid shut.

I had to put foil over the top of the container because I couldn’t use the lid for that chicken. I ate a leg or a thick slice of breast or thigh every day for an entire week. I finally tossed what was left at the end of the week into my giant soup pot with water and seasonings, carrots, celery and onions and simmered it until the carcass fell apart.

My original intention was to put it in the slow cooker, but it didn’t fit. So it cooked in the big pot and after picking the meat off the bones, I added noodles, and ate thick, meaty, chicken noodle soup for a week. So I’m debating in these perilous times, (bird flu reducing the chicken population, you know) where I should go for the best chicken value. Ultimately, they all become soup. What matters is the flavor and how much chicken winds up in the bowl with the noodles and veggie bits.

I saw large white free range eggs on sale for $9.99 a dozen at one of the local stores. I don’t eat that many eggs and lucked out with some local eggs at $3.49 a dozen. There were empty spots where some other egg suppliers were not able to supply eggs.

For baking, I have powdered eggs. For eating, I usually throw 10 eggs into my rice cooker for hard boiled eggs. I have some from a previous dozen to boil and by the time I finish eating those, the ones I bought last Sunday will be ready for boiling.

I should check with my son as to whether his friend will be able to supply us with eggs. Or maybe, I’ll use some of the lumber odds and ends and wire fencing that I’ve got in the garage to make a chicken coop and a run. A license costs $10/year to keep 4 chickens. I could build a winter shelter in the back end of the garage with hay and a heat lamp or some sort of heating set-up for them. I think the math works out to around $4.75 per egg, factoring in the food, shelter, and the chickens themselves. Quite the bargain, right?

Something to think about.

I have a recipe for you.

No, you don’t get my life story in 25 paragraphs before you get to the recipe.

Here it is, right here. You might like it better in the late summer when the veggies are fresher, but I live on salad year-round.

What you need is a bag or two of those little sweet peppers – the yellow and red ones, and a green bell pepper

or…

4 good sized bell peppers, 1 each – green, yellow, red, and orange.

A good sized cucumber, seedless or not.

A box of cherry tomatoes or any other bite-sized tomatoes. Bonus points for growing them.

A small red onion or a couple of bunches of scallions.

Sliced Kalamata, or black olives, if you like (optional)

A can of white beans, cannoli beans, or garbanzos, drained and rinsed – or not, your preference.

Olive oil

Wine vinegar or lemon juice

Balsamic vinegar – just a dash or two

Salt and pepper

Fresh basil or a few sprigs of parsley – finely chopped

Sharp knife

Cutting board

Really big bowl

Seed the small peppers and cut into rings. The larger peppers should be cut in half at the middle and then julienned. Dump into bowl.

Cut the cucumber into quarters lengthwise and then cut into small chunks. Dump into bowl.

Depending on the size of the tomatoes, you can cut them in half or leave them whole. If you decide to use full-size tomatoes, seed and cut into chunks. Dump into bowl.

Thinly slice the onion or scallions and add to bowl.

Drain and rinse the beans and add to bowl.

Add the sliced olives – optional

Mix together a 1/4 cup of olive oil, 1/4 cup of wine vinegar or lemon juice, a couple of tablespoons of the balsamic vinegar, the chopped basil or parsley, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix dressing into salad.

Chill before serving.

Sometimes instead of beans, I use quinoa or couscous. You can also use bulgur or brown rice if you like. Kidney or black beans give a different flavor.

Feeds me for a week. It could be a nice addition to a potluck.

The bowl I use is the largest of the Ikea 5-bowl set.

Gratuitous Cat Picture. Her name is Gingersnap. A picture of grace and beauty.

Fun project

I just finished designing and typesetting a book for the wife of one of the Maker Space’s Area Captains. It’s slim volume of letters written to her niece during the Pandemic about a traumatic event that occurred. I’m awaiting final approval on the text block before printing it.

Once it’s printed, I will bind it as a hard cover book. I’ve already designed the cover which will be embellished with silver for the title and cover image. It will be similar in style to this sketchbook I made for my youngest granddaughter a few years ago. It has her zodiac sign and her name on the front and the year on the spine with silver accents instead of gold.

I also have a nineteenth century history book to repair. I just need to find a nice piece of thin leather for the spine which is the largest repair. i haven’t come across one yet. I have leather workers who are checking their stashes for the right kind of leather. I’m also watching the thrift shops for a purse of the right leather type that I can use the leather from.

All is not well

Rumors abound about raids last evening. Homes and manufacturing places invaded; restaurants and bars visited. I haven’t found anything on the news, just purported eye-witness accounts. Is this the new reality? That we are not safe in our homes and no one reports that we are missing? Oh sure, most people don’t have to worry. Except law enforcement frequently makes mistakes.

Are we going back to children in cages who are never returned to their parents? Who die of callous neglect in flimsy shelters, cold and hungry, and forgotten? Cruelty and callousness are not a good look for “The Greatest Nation On Earth.” As it is, we as a country no longer have too many friends left and the new regime has been in charge less that a week.

I used to read a lot of classic dystopian fiction when I was younger. I never expected any of it to become reality. They were just exercises in what could be if certain theories were played out in real time. It seems like Animal Farm, Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and 1984 were not the images of the worst we could be. We will soon have the Hunger Games, The Handmaid’s Tale, and Lord of the Flies in real time.

We barely missed The Andromeda Strain and The Stand with the pandemic. But give us more time. There are too many undereducated people out there who will follow the latest tabloid exposé on health and well-being, and will continue to refuse inoculations for preventable diseases.

“My ignorance is just as valid as your knowledge,” seems to be the trend. And how did I wander away from what is supposed to be about making things to a political diatribe? Just fate I guess, and a lack of any crafting content. Which tells me I need to get off my hiney, take my meds, and get crafting.

Later, folks.

Old age is racing up.

“Time seems to speed up as we get older because each year we live is a smaller percentage of the total amount of time we have been alive. This theory has been named proportional theory.” – found on Fact Republic

Yep. Days are getting shorter and it’s not because it’s winter outside. It’s more like time is speeding up for me. Not that I’m moving faster or doing more. No. I’m running out of time. I’ll plan to do something, but by the time I’m ready, I’m already late.

I want to go back to before time started running out, because eventually, time will speed up to point where I’m no more. I want an infinite loop. The only problem with that is I will still be the idiot I am, just infinitely. Maybe it’s already happened. What a thought. If you’ve seen this post in a previous lifetime, let me know.

I ATE’NT DEAD, JUST DISAPPOINTED

Just like Esme Weatherwax, a character created by Sir Terry Pratchett, I ate’nt dead. Just missing from posting regularly on the blog. Unlike Granny Weatherwax, I can’t go borrowing the mind of flying creatures to view the world. I can only open YouTube, pull up my favorite independent news people and go “he’s not dead yet.” I’m talking about my least favorite politiical entity.

I’m not going to mention any names, but I am finding as I get older, I have less patience with political foolishness. If I had a time machine, I would go back to the founding fathers and tell them while the Constitution is a great document, they need to add a maximum age limit on politicians in all three arms of the government of 70 years, a maximum of 4 terms in total for Congress, and that no member of congress should be paid more than 4 times the minimum prevailing wage per year. Members of the Supreme Court should have term limits of 10 years maximum so they can keep up with the changing societal norms.

Radical, I know, but I’m tired of old men trying to turn back social, educational, and economic progress and return us to the good old 19th century. I’m tired of dealing with under-educated people who can barely read and have little understanding of what they read unless it’s in the form of a 200 character, more or less, message of the most extreme rumor, innuendo, and mis-information.

The major problem as I see it is the destruction of the education system, whereby your ignorance is as valid as my knowledge because you were passed along every year, because no one wanted to make you feel bad. No one did any favors to those kids who needed remedial classes by passing them down the line.

And then there’s the poverty aspect. Corporations were allowed to offshore manufacturing to countries with lower wage standards. The next result is the currently impoverished and the not quite impoverished populations that we have now. The minimum wage was supposed to guarantee a minimum standard of living that included the ability to afford a family with a decent place to live, food on the table, and clothing for the seasons.

It should have worked. It did almost work for a time. You could say the 1950s and early part of the ‘60s were the epitome of the “live on the minimum wage” times. The Depression was over, the World War had ended, there was that bit of a war that ultimately divided Korea. Soon to come was that utter crap shoot of a land war in Asia.

And sex, drugs, and rock and roll came along with the dystopian feeling that things weren’t quite right because it was a new decade and a new war. And we’ve been at war ever since and putting less money into people and more money into weapons and wars. And here we are. I’m celebrating the holiday that this day is, and not the other thing that’s happening today. It’s a day of mourning for what we could have been.

It’s my opinion— that is all.

My favorite automobile.

I missed that daily post, but I have to say my favorite automobile was a 1998 Saturn SL. I drove it for 26 years, kept it maintained, and would still have it if my shoulders and knees hadn’t gone bad. Unfortunately, I let my son have it, for a price, and he traded it in for a car he couldn’t afford which has been repo-ed so that he is currently on foot or dependent on rides to and from work.

The Saturn was the second car I got new. Other than a Plymouth Horizon, all of my previous cars have been used. In fact, my first car was a ‘52 Chevy, yellow and green, that I paid $50 for 1976. It was in one accident where I was turning left on a green and a car jumped the light and plowed into the passenger side. The door was bent, but the car only rocked. The guy’s front end was not so lucky. My car was still road worthy and the cops let me go. I drove it for a couple of years before giving it back to the friend I had purchased it from.

My second car was also yellow and green – a ‘63 Buick Special, for which I paid the grand sum of $100 to a neighbor of friends of mine, who had had the car for several years in the garage after her husband died. My friends had checked the car out as they were considering buying for a second car. It was too small for their needs.

It had been maintained in running condition in case the Widow wanted to use it, but she preferred to have her son take her where she needed to be. He persuaded her to let him sell it. It was an okay car with quite a bit of rust on the body that would chip off. It took us cross-country while hauling a trailer that probably out-weighed it. I know the headlights tended to point up at the sky at times during the trip. I owned that one for 4 years and several long trips, but without a trailer. The neighbors used to laugh at my ugly car, but it always started no matter the wind-chill, and usually only cost $40 to fix other than when I bought tires.

The next car was insisted upon by my then husband. He felt humiliated by the fact that I drove the crappy rusted car. His peers would always ask why I drove the car and his answer of ‘It’s hers and it runs,” was embarrassing to him. So we went to a dealer and he bought a ‘76 Buick, maroon in color. My poor green and yellow car died in the driveway of a broken heart and had to be towed away.

I got the crappy maroon Buick in the divorce. Yay, me! He didn’t realize that the title had both our names on it or he would have taken it and left me with no way to get into town except by bicycle. So after he bought his own car, I had him sign the Buick over to me. A year later, it self-destructed in the parking lot of the apartment building I was living in.

After the death of the Buick, I was reduced to shopping and going to work by bus. That was fine. I support public transportation. It was limiting not to be able to go places on my own schedule, but I made due. After working a couple of years and re-building my credit, I was able to get a car loan to purchase a new ‘86 Plymouth Horizon. I drove the car for twelve years.

In 1998, a friend of mine had his car blow up. Quite literally, turn the key, see flames, jump out, BOOM! He asked me to take him car shopping. It was interesting. Once the salesmen (yes, they were all men, not being sexist) heard me say I was just here with my friend, I ceased to exist. That is, until we went to the Saturn dealership.

My friend went off with the salesman when I said I would wait in the lobby, but one of the salesmen came over and said something like “while you’re waiting for your friend, let me tell you a bit about our cars.” He didn’t give me a sales pitch as such, but just pointed out the safety features and showed me the cut-away model.

The next day I went back and got the same salesman. I pointed out that my Plymouth Horizon was 12 years old and starting to fall apart. We talked about used cars on the lot and what I would pay per month. He then pointed out that I could lease a Saturn for 3 years and turn it in to lease another if I liked it. I took a test drive and the car fit me. I was only 5’2” at the time. I’m shorter now.

I liked the fit and the feel and wound up leasing the Saturn. My friend also bought a Saturn. I had the base model and he got one with a moon roof, leather seats, and some other features I can’t remember. It turned out we both got red with a grey interior. It caused a bit of confusion if we weren’t paying attention when parked near each other.

Now I have another used car with over 130,000 miles on it. But this one won’t have to last as long as the Saturn did. I figure I have another 5 or 6 years or so before old age slaps me really hard in face and says “don’t you dare get behind the wheel and drive off.” There’s a bus stop at the end of the block, just in case.