Grannie Dreams
Sarah informs me that her future mother-in-law is already trying out grandma names.

I would say "Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Can they please get married first?", except that I have no room to talk.
While I was on Martha Pullen's site looking for handkercheif edgings, it occurred to me that Sarah, unlike the Gymboree-sta, might indulge me in the matter of dear little hand-smocked daygowns for future Baby Genny.



Or, as Taylor is the youngest of three sons, dear little pin-tucked bubbles for possible Baby Milo.
I asked Sarah about it and she applied a little daughterly blackmail: "If I do, can they still have those wonderful hand-carved wooden toys?




"Well, of course."
"Okay, then."

We will have to gently dissuade his mom from "Gogo", though, because that is the name of a particulary repellent Mixo-Lydian refugee in my Thirkell's. We're suggesting Gigi. That's what we call our great-grandma, but with "Nanna" in front of it.

Fr. W. on why there's no whining in Modesty:

"And ladies, before you come to us with your complaints, just consider- our necklines are higher, our sleeves are longer, our hemlines are lower and we're wearing black."

Snippets


Sis arrived with MJ for some babysitting, carrying a ziplock with three pairs of panties. "We are toilet-training" she announced. "I've had it with the diapers."
"You are so psychic," I said, "I was just thinking this morning that it was time to try it again and you know what you should do? Invest in some cheap Garanimals shorts and tops so she can get them off easily."

The Fashionista looked at me as if I'd suggested she dress her in a burlap bag.
"She can learn in her regular clothes. O learned in tights."

"Yeah, but you didn't teach her. The Montessori gals did that."
Which is one reason why Bubs and the Potty was such an ordeal.
But I should have known better- this is the mom who religiously changed Gastric Reflux Baby's clothes eight times a day, so she always looked cute. A couple of peed-on pairs of leggings are nothing, in her book.

But MJ, her tushy pampered by the Princess Potty with the cushy seat, was having nothing to do with my IKEA molded plastic piece of minimalism. She'll just wait until she gets home, thank you.



Bubs is being an jr. usher, which means he is handing out the order of service leaflets at the door, a perfect job for the Mayor. Sis and Jas were explaining to him what ushers do- "They ask the guests if they're a friend of the bride or the groom, so they can tell which side to seat them on."


"Oh- so you know who they're cheering for?"


Ves appears in the bathroom door while I'm putting up my hair: "I think I've got this figured out- if they catch the 9:00 am train to San Antonio, they'll arrive late at night. But I have to see if they can rent a car at the station, so they can get to their hotel-"
"Honey, what are you talking about?"
"The kids's honeymoon... so if they can't rent a car there, they could take a taxi-"
"Why are you doing this? It's Taylor's job."
"Are you sure? I remember planning our honeymoon."
" Yes- when you were the groom."

"Oh."


Went to the Stickley exhibit at the DMA and came home reeling drunk on fumed oak, hammered copper, leather and nubby linen.
I'll just move in here, thanks. Can I get an applewood bacon, Boston lettuce and heirloom tomato on hippie bread from the restaurant, please?

I know we've all had the experience of seeing some particular style of art or craft that sounded a loud interior gong: the Arts and Crafts works, particularly in their American expression, did that for me. For years, until they opened the small A&C room upstairs, I would make a pilgrimage to the Blacker Doors, the only large work of the genre the DMA had, and moon about in front of it until the guard gave me the fish-eye. Rooms and rooms of the same was a bit of sensory overload, but I loved it.

Oddly enough, being a fiber lover- I had never cared particularly for the textiles branch of A&C, but being able to see actual examples have converted me. I bought a repro catalogue of decorative items to copy designs from for future projects.

And it seems that there's a store in Grapevine that sells reproductions of Stickley furniture- they had a little sitting area in the exhibit, which they had underwritten. Don't worry, I'll find a justification...



Went on another little binge at the DFW FiberFest again this year. It's the atmosphere: hundreds of fiber fans milling about, enabling each other to spend money like drunk sailors in port. Insisting that if you like that colorway in a worsted weight, you have to get it in laceweight and chunky, too. Or you need that particular blend of roving in another color as well. And surely you'll find a use for that one of a kind giant terra-cotta button. And the wool wash. And the lavendar-impregnated stones.
The mantra is : Go on, you know you want to...
The next day's hangover is less painful, though, I understand.