Quilting

Unbeknownst to many people I am a quilter. Not by profession, strictly a hobby. 

I am not trained, nor do I belong to a Quilters guild, or club, this is strictly therapeutic. I feel no need to have my work exhibited, or critiqued, or criticized, or analyzed. This is an outlet and one that is totally mine and a reflection of me. My children will be the only ones who ever benefit, if that's what you call it, from this happy endeavor.  

I stumbled upon this by accident years ago. 

I like to sew, but lost interest in making my own clothes as I got older, and my body changed, and I was no longer a perfect size 10. Patterns required more alteration, and I found I could go buy what I wanted for so much less time and hassle, and yes, even cheaper; go figure.  

One of the aspects of Home Ec. class that I enjoyed in school was the 6 wk segment on decorating, and learning to sew accents for your home. This is something I appreciated when we moved into our first apt. I made curtains, pillows, etc. long before it was so vogue to do so. 

I began my journey into quilting making baby quilts for friends, dear friends, who's little's were going to be as important to me as my own family. I loved it when I found out that those little's loved the quilts I made, carrying them everywhere, and using them till they actually wore out. I  loved fabric, and the feel and textures it brought, and I loved making things that were useful to people. 

Over the years I have made dozens of baby quilts, and even started making flannel receiving blankets for little's that were larger than the ones you bought in the store and was told again and again how wonderful the bigger ones were for those little ones. 

I was hooked. Doing something I loved, and being rewarded by hearing how helpful and useful what I made was to folks. It was a perfect fit.  

I never ventured into larger quilts as I didn't have a quilting frame, they took up a lot of room. If I made them at all, I tied them. like the one I made for my sister. 

Back seven or eight years ago, I received a phone call from the Pastor at our church. The fire marshal had been out on inspection and all the quilting things from the former quilters group at our church was going to have to go. If I didn't want it and come get it, it was going to the dump. 

Back when my children were little, and we started attending our church, there were a group of older ladies who gathered one Tues of every  month and made quilts to be auctioned off at the churches university in Olathe for scholarships. As each of those ladies grew too old to continue the tradition, their materials, notions, and quilting frame sat idle in a back room at the church.

I loaded up and went out to get all the totes - 8 of them - full of fabric, kits, cut out quilt pieces, scissors, tape measures, marking pens, pins, instructions, and on and on and on. I sorted, and sifted and cleaned out and after giving away all the fabrics that were not appropriate for quilts, had 5 totes left. 

It might have been overwhelming to some, but I was like a alcoholic in a liquor store. I was drowning in fabric, ideas, and materials to sew and quilt till the day I died; literally.  

I found a quilt kit with the top that needed to be embroidered, but no floss; they had used it on something else. It was a tree of life, that I knew by looking at it would be beautiful in the right colors. I bought floss and began the process. I found the perfect backing material in a Jacobean print of muted tones, that literally sat for years waiting for me to finish embroidering the top. In between I made baby quilts, even a rather complicated one for our first grandchild. 

 I would embroidery in the evenings when the light was not good, and quilt during the day on my little embroidery hoop. 

As I completed projects they began to stack up on the king size bed in Audrey's bedroom. A baby quilt, two regular size quilts, even a bedspread. 

On my 60th birthday Audrey surprised me with a quilting frame. Not just any quilting frame, a adjustable, tilting, fancy, expensive quilting frame that I had been drooling over. Now I had no excuse not to finish those quilts. 

My first project was the Tree of Life quilt. The quilting lines were printed on it, and I figured it was a sure fire way to get off to a good start, and I was right. It was a job, but it was enjoyable, and I loved working on it. It didn't seem to take any time at all. 

As I worked on it, I realized what I had been missing by having a quilting frame. I was delighted to be able to see my work in such a broad scope, or at least what I thought of as broad. 

It afforded me such a bigger picture than the little hoop that I had used in the past. 

I worked diligently, and the entire quilt was finished in a matter of months.  

The next project was one of a little more complicated nature. 

It was a Texas Star quilt in red's, white's and blues, in pieces, partially put together. As I began to look at it more closely, and lay it out to see what else I might need, I became acutely aware that I would have to rip out what had been sewn and start completely over. The stitches were uneven and puckered, and it was lacking some diamonds, plus, what was I going to fill in the corners and middle sections with? 

As I began to scour for fabric, I found exactly what I needed, and purchased the backing and batting to get started. 

It has turned out great! Just what I wanted, I've just taken it off the frame, so am allowing it to rest a bit, but the binding is already cut and I will have that done shortly.  

In the mean time while I was working on this, I made a miniature quilt out of some dutch doll blocks that my mother made when she was just a little girl. It turned out beautiful as well, and will be the perfect addition to the wall in my office.  

This is an abbreviated version of my quilting exploits thus far. But I have to say that with each project finished, I am feeling more accomplished, and satisfied.  

A time to gather

As I am canning green beans, some thoughts surface in my mind.  I was reminded recently of something my mother said and most wives of farmers.  They said "It doesn't matter if harvest is early or late, the beans are always ready at harvest time".  I remember Mother driving the wheat truck for Daddy during harvest and then coming in and staying up late to can beans.  Our Grandma Horack (Millie) who stayed with us girls during harvest would have them picked and probably ready to can. 
Well, this year of 2012, wheat harvest began around this area in mid-May.  I checked the beans.  Sure enough, they were blooming.  By the time they were cutting our wheat, I was canning beans.  But I wasn't up half the night canning them. 
There were times that Mother canned beans even after harvest was over.  She would pick enough for a canner (7 quarts or 9 pints), wash, snap and pack them in jars.  Then she would get them in the pressure canner and get the pressure built up.  She would say "You watch the pressure gauge and if it gets over a certain number, you call me". Then she would go out to pick beans for the next canner.  Made me very nervous.  I watched that gauge like a hawk.  She always said you should but up 1 qt of whatever you were doing for each week of the year and some extra for company.  That was the canning rule.
 The year I really learned how to can beans, Aunt Doris and Uncle Harold were going to California to see Jean and John.  Aunt Doris said," Anita, the beans will be ready to can while we're gone.  You come out and can them".  Clinton was a baby.  But I went out.  He sat in his little seat.  I picked the beans and canned them for Aunt Doris.  Everything went fine.  Lots of memories of canning at Aunt Doris's. 
When you are used to home canned goods, nothing tastes the same.  We are very thankful for the produce and the knowledge to know how to preserve them.

The Tablecloth

Her things are always in my house; her coffee table and end table, dishes, pots, kitchen utensils. There is even a fleece jacket of hers that I wear almost every day during the winter, but I guess I’ve grown accustomed to having those things.

These are new. Tablecloths. I have a whole pile of them. Anita brought them up. Lace, linen, some Mother made, and many we bought her; one in particular stands out to me. She never used it much, said it didn’t fit the table for large groups, but I always loved it; the smoothness of the linen, the formality of it with just enough whimsy of fun in that trial of pale green shamrocks.

The things I was taught in the use of table clothes. Use the formal ones with the china, the bright printed ones with the Fiesta ware, for family dinners. There were others for Sunday after church dinners, parties with friends.

Much discussion always went into which one to use on which occasion. Did it hang right, was it the right color, and was it to short, too long? Dressing a table took forethought and preparation. It was a statement to your guests as they walked in your door.

“I’m ready for you!”
“I’m so glad you’re here!”
“I’ve planned something special just because you are coming.”

With the advent of Formica top tables, and polyurethane finishes, tables don’t need the protection of a table cloth or covering so much anymore. Placemats have also taken the place of table cloths. Shoot, people seldom drag out the china, and candle sticks anymore, if they entertain at all.

I didn’t realize that there was anything to doing it properly until I had Roger help me one time and he didn’t have a clue….he didn’t know the crease needs to run straight down the center of the table, the ends need to be even, to really do it correctly, you need a partner on the other end to get it centered just so. You don’t just “slap” a tablecloth on the table; you put something under it to protect the table. She went to far as taking old mattress pads and making table pads for her tables. She made special hangers to hang the cloths on in the closet after she had washed and ironed them so they would stay wrinkle free and ready to dress out the table at a moment’s notice.

As I went through the stack and looked at each one, I remembered them, and I remembered the times we used them, and I remembered her. I remember being taught to be particular about how you do things, pay attention to details--they matter, somethings go together, and somethings just don't, protect and take care of your things, they are worth it, be prepared for company, make people feel special, sometime it take more than two hands to do something right, and "yes, the crease being straight matters". As I look at that stack I miss my mother. I’m thankful for my Mother and all the simple life lessons that she taught me by simply teaching me the how’s and whys of using a table cloth.

Family, Freedom and a Future....

This is the year that several of my friend’s oldest childen are moving out of the house and going to college. This is usually considered an opportunity by some for the freedom to pursue the future they have always dreamed of in one form or another.

I spoke with one young woman who is actually opting to live in the dorm while residing in the same town she grew up in so that (in her own words) “I will be close enough to watch and participate in my younger sisters growing up” (she has four younger sisters and her youngest sister is 7).

I couldn’t help but be struck by this as I remember my older sisters looking at going off to college as almost as much of an escape from home and mother as they did the adventure it afforded. I never got the impression they ever looked back, but if they did it was with a sense of relief they were leaving.

I remember being the one left behind………..more than once actually, the perils of being youngest I guess, but as I got older, I was almost as anxious for them to go as they were. You see we were four girls living in the upstairs of a small house and shared two bedrooms. When someone left, everyone sort of spread out, with you eventually getting your own room. That was considered a perk. In a one bathroom house, it was also considered a perk to have one less person to try to fit in front of the mirror in the mornings.

Things have changed so much now a day. Just about the time our kids were old enough to care we moved into a big beautiful new house where they each had their own bathroom—no sharing, no waiting—something their Dad was adamant about when the plans were drawn up (he grew up in a family of 9—one bath).

One of the homeschooling blogs I read has a family of 9 children, one boy, and eight girls. The girls decided that they wanted a home library bad enough that they sacrificed one of the bedrooms for it, turning the one bedroom all the girls now share into something akin to an army barracks with bunks stacked 3 high.

I found all this interesting because obviously the joy found by some at sharing a room, bathroom, and smaller house is different than that of others. Separation is something that is loathed, and decidedly avoided if possible. Perhaps it is the individuals, perhaps it is the parents, perhaps it is the times, or a little of all three.

Whatever it is, it gave me pause at this young woman’s attachment to her younger siblings to the point that she would alter her opportunities (she got a full ride to a university 8 hours away) just to remain close to her siblings and their activities. Somewhere along the line she got the message that you can have it all—family, freedom, and a future.

Good for her!

Waste Not, Want Not

Having grown up with a “depression era” Mom, we learned about recycling at a very early age. You didn’t throw anything away. We washed the bread sacks, and reused them, washed the aluminum foil and reused it, paper grocery sacks lined the trash can, and before it was all over, Mother was even using the empty plastic bag inside the cereal box to place between her meat patties, or pork chops or steaks to put in the freezer.“It doesn’t tear when it gets wet like wax paper does!”, she would say in response to my rolling my eyes at what seemed to be this extreme of “savings”.
Keeping butter containers, cottage cheese containers, any plastic container with a lid was a given, and when we moved Mother out of her house, we girls couldn’t help but laugh at the number of cottage cheese containers we found stacked up and ready for use in her cupboards. We teased Audrey at the time that we would keep all those as part of her dowry when she decided to marry.
Well, I am here to confess that the dowry is intact, and Mother would have burst with pride if she had been here to see what I discovered in my attic the other day. What I was doing in my attic is another story, but it led me to unearth a particular box, dusty, and dirty but closed tightly against the 16 years of accumulation of filth. As I pulled the box from beneath the others stacked upon it, I questioned myself about its contents. After all, I had been the one to fill it and seal it, and place it in the attic. What in the world could it be?
Imagine my relief, amazement, and sheer hysteria when I opened the box to discover several stacks of, you got it, plastic containers! Cottage cheese, ice cream, whipped topping, butter, you name it, and I’d saved it!
For one split second I seriously thought about resealing it, and placing it back in the attic for my children to some day run across and………..yea, you get it, and they would have too. However,upon closer inspection, the containers, after being exposed to extremes of the attic were stiff, and brittle, and not worth much, thus I pitched them. I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh at the fact that for years that box of plastic containers had been in my attic paying homage to the fact that I DID recycle just like my mama had taught me. I was ready to deal with any surplus that came along. The reason they were in the attic, was because at the time of the move, I had enough recycled plastic containers in my kitchen cupboards that the multitude in the box were considered surplus!
I called my sister Anita to share with her that I had finally found the hidden family treasure of such great value; we both got a good laugh. But underneath, we also knew that the containers were just an outward sign of an inward lesson we had learned growing up with Mama: Don’t be wasteful!

Why I keep meals in the freezer........

O.K. I am officially sick. Ear ache, stopped up head, and sore throat; can you say THE PITTS!
This is one of those “freezer meal” times. Fortunately I roasted a chicken earlier this fall, and after cutting what meat I could off the bones I boiled the bones,(O.K., I have to interject something here. THIS is a true Mother, depression era thing to do, boiling bones. It removes all the little tidbits of meat off those bones, and if you don't add too much water, makes more rich chicken broth. I have seen women take turkey and chicken carcasses after a meal with a goodly amount of meat on them and throw them away, I cringe, because my mama taught me not to waste that meat, or the good broth that comes from those bones, and bits of meat). I then added the broth from the roasted chicken to the liquid from the boiled bones, and put it over the meat in the container, and froze the whole thing. Thus, all I needed to do was thaw it, bring the whole thing to a boil, and add the noodles. I then fixed instant mashed potatoes (yes I said instant, this is not a sin, especially when you feel like I do), and TAADAA! Chicken and noodles!

Not to brag, but anyone who has had my roasted chicken will tell you it is outstanding, and it is all in the Sweet Basil Rub that goes on before the roasting. It is a recipe I found on the back of a Butterball Roasting Hen I bought. I tried it, and haven’t roasted a chicken or turkey without it since. Like I said it is the best. Word to the wise; don't start with anything less than a 5 lb. bird.

Here is the recipe:

Sweet Basil Rub
1 T. Salt (can reduce, if wish, but not too much)
2 t. Sugar
¼ t. Garlic Powder (not garlic salt)
¼ t. Onion Powder (not onion salt)
¼ t. paprika
1/2 T. Lemon Juice
½ t. Black Pepper
1 T. Whole Basil
2 T. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Mix salt, sugar, garlic, onion, paprika and lemon juice together. Next, add black pepper, basil and olive oil. Mix into paste. Rub paste(with your hands)over washed and patted dry hen, inside and out.

For the best gravy, save drippings from roasting pan.

Now to cook the bird
1.Preheat the oven to 350
2.Remove giblets
3.Wash and rinse bird, pat dry
4.Rub with Sweet Basil Rub
5.Place bird breast side down, (yes, I said down, your white meat will be moister) and tent foil over; remove for last 10 min. of cooking to brown nicely.
6.Roast in oven to an internal temp of 170 degrees or till juices run clear.
7.Remove roaster, allow bird to stand 10 min. (actually the bird is past standing at this point, so just let it lay there :) before carving.

For every 1 lb. of bird weight cook approximately 20-25 min.

5 lbs – 1 ¾ hrs.
5 ½ lb.s – 2 hrs.
6 lbs.- 2 ¼ hrs. etc.

If you are not going to serve the bird right away and want to make chicken and noodles, remove all meat from the bone and place in a freezer safe dish. Then take the larger bones, place in large kettle, and JUST cover with water; bring to boil. Cool, and add drippings from the chicken roaster, pour all over the meat in the freezer dish, cool completely and freeze. I use those noodles in the bread isle, the ones that are the closest thing to homemade I can find. There is a awesome brand of potato buds that I find at Sam's that are the next best thing to real mashed potatoes. The company that makes them is from Idaho--need I say more?