Call It What You Want...

Cording the stays is a rather repetitive process (I hope that sewing all those channels prepared you for this), so settle in with a good DVD or Netflix or audiobook or something that will keep your hands free. You already gathered your supplies, but just in case:


You're ready to continue?
Your back is already corded, as are your waist channels. It doesn't matter where you start.
For channels like your center channels along the busk, do it just as you did for the backs. However, because of the busk facing, it may be impossible to get all that length on the loop turner. The solution is to poke a hole with your awl through two of the four layers at about the midpoint. Cut your cording the full length (doubled, of course). Insert your loop turner through the hole at the midpoint and slide it through so the hook end comes out the bottom. Grasp the cording and pull it through to the midpoint, so the loop end of the cording now comes out the hole you made at the middle. Now remove the loop from your turner, and insert your turner at the TOP end of the channel. Slide it through the channel to that midpoint hole you made before (you might need to use your awl to open it again) and poke the hook end out that hole. Hook the loop end back over the hook again, making sure the hook closes on the cording, and pull it back into the channel and up to the top. Now you should have the whole channel corded. It doesn't matter if a little peeks out at that midpoint spot.

For the side cording, do as before on the waist: Poke a hole with the awl.


Insert loop turner in channel...



... until the end pokes out the other end. Hook the cording into the hook ...



... and pull it through, leaving a little tail at one end, and a little loop at the other.



For channels that don't have an "open" end, just use the awl to poke holes at both ends. The beauty of using an awl is that it doesn't actually tear the fabric, but just spreads the weave so that you can put the cording through. After you've finished, the holes "close up" and hold the cording in place. Unless your channels are absolutely gigantic, the cording is there to stay. Don't believe me? Give one of those loose ends a gentle tug. You have to pull pretty hard to pull them out.



(The top ends of these diagonals can be a challenge with the gore pieces in there. Just be aware of where they are. Sometimes I slide the loop turner into place and then make the hole to "pop" it out.)



Under bust channels, more of the same....

On the lower abdomen channels, you have two curved channels on each side. Just insert your loop turner and pretend it's straight. It works.



What are you watching or listening to while you cord this? I have corded at soccer and baseball practices, too, as well as in the car, but if you do it in a moving vehicle, please put the protective cap on the awl any time it's not being used, and put it back in your bag every time you finish poking a hole.

When all the cording is finished, your stays suddenly look amazing. The texture is really something to take in...



Congratulations! This is beautiful! Great job!

Next post: binding, shoulder straps, grommets and finishing.

This will be a short one... but gives you a sneak preview into cording the stays.

Before you attach the backs to the fronts, you need to insert the cording to the WAIST channels. To do so, assemble your cording supplies: cording (I use 16-ply cotton office twine!), the loop turner pictured in post #2, an awl, and your scissors.




First, lay your cording the length of the waist channel from the edge of the busk casing to the side. Double the cording so you have a loop at one end and two raw ends at the other when cut. Each channel will, in effect, have TWO strands of cording in it, with a loop at one end.



Using your awl, poke a hole in the LINING side of the front, just beyond the busk casing and the cording channel beside it. Make the hole you poke large enough to insert the end of your loop turner. If you can get that part in, you can pull the cording through.



Then, insert the loop turner into the channel.



Push it all the way through the channel until the entire curved end extends out the edge. Put the looped end of the cording through the curved end, and allow the little "hook" to flip up, clasping the cord inside.



Pull the loop turner and cording through the channel, gently tugging it free through the awl-hole you punched earlier.



Leave the loops -- they won't pull back out of the channels.
Cord all four waist channels -- two on each side of the busk. Now you're ready to attach the backs to the front.

To attach the backs to the front, I wander a bit afield from the original instructions. In this case, I'm not working toward an exact reproduction of the original but instead ease of construction.

Place the back piece and the front piece together, LINING ("wrong") SIDES TOGETHER. (Remember, the slits for the back boning are on the inside -- "wrong" -- side of the back pieces!) Fold back the front "outside" piece and pin it out of the way for later. You will be sewing THREE layers together. (If your cording channels come too close to the edges, just trim them back so you can fold that front piece out of the way.)



Sew this seam with a 1/2" seam allowance. Please try to keep that top layer out of the way!



Press this seam TOWARD the FRONT, then pin the top layer (which had been pinned out of the way) over the seam, folding the raw edge under, to create a finished edge. Topstitch as near to the edge as possible without going over. Repeat for the other back piece.

Now your fronts and backs are attached and you're ready to CORD this thing.

I like to cord the back panels first. All the cording in the back is the same length, so cutting it is easy. The challenge with the back pieces is often that the length of the panel is longer than your loop turner. Really pack it on tightly and you should be able to get the turner all the way through.



Pull the cording through each channel. Get something interesting on TV or Netflix because this is going to take a while and not a lot of brain power. (May I suggest Cranford? No, wait. Too many tears.)



Once the cording is in, the panel will look wrinkly. That's okay. Leave the ends loopy and loose -- you'll trim them when you're all done.

The next post will cord the front, apply binding, make the shoulder straps, and finish. It will be GREAT!

When we last left, we had assembled the front lining of the stays by inserting gores, then sewn the front to the front lining. Unfortunately, it seems only one post was visible to all of you, so please see post #2, in case you missed it. In this post, we will put together the back pieces and attach them to the front.

The back pieces are two large rectangles, cut on the fold. You have two facings that you cut along with those for the front busk channel; these are for the back stay channel (to strengthen the area so the boning doesn't rub through). Place the facing inside the unfolded back piece and baste it in, top and bottom.

Please note that in this example, a completed set of stays (above) shows the placement of the facing. We have unfolded the back piece (fold near the center of photo indicates the folded edge, which is where the grommets will go later). The facing may go all the way to the edge, giving the grommets more fabric to grip. The width shown is the absolute minimum needed.

Once the facings are basted, there's nothing else to add to the back pieces. It's now time to start sewing in the channels for the cording.

The first line is sewn a channel-width from the folded edge. I use the settings demonstrated in the previous post, with my sewing machine needle in the flush right position and the stitch width set at the maximum setting. I then line up my fabric with the edge lined up with the presser foot for a 3/16" channel.



Sew in two channels for the lacing edge of your stays. Then skip over about 1/2" for the grommet strip. This is where you'll place the grommets. (We'll talk about them in the "finishing" section.) Remember if you're leaving your needle in the flush-right position to line up the last stitching line a little further over than the 4/8" line on your plate.


(leaving the needle in flush-right seemed to work for me this time as my machine is in need of servicing.)

You now need three more channels for cording that go between your grommets and your boning. Continue as you were.
(By the way, these are all detailed in the original instructions.)

You are likely to be using 1/2" boning, so your channel will need to measure 5/8" to make sure you can slide the boning in successfully. Be very attentive to this width for the entire length of the back. You don't want to have to re-do it. (Though it's not the end of the world. Done it more than once.)



When you've finished this channel, test it with the boning you plan to use, just to be sure.

Now finish sewing three more sets of channels at the back. Repeat with the other back piece.



Your two back pieces will be mirror images. Oops, they're the same? That's okay. Flip one over. Problem solved.

Next, mark the slit for the boning. Remember, this is the SECOND wide channel away from the fold. Use a pencil or marking pen to mark across the channel, about an inch up from the bottom. This leaves room for trimming, binding, and so the boning doesn't regularly slip out.



The best way to cut this slit is with a seam ripper -- a sharp one. Insert it at one edge of the channel and slit across. I usually cut through the back and the facing (two layers). Make sure you don't cut through ALL the layers -- this is the INSIDE side of your back piece. P.S. When you're marking this slit, make sure you have a right back and a left back piece!



(Using scissors is hard to get started and hard to stop. The seam ripper really is your friend. Just punch it back through at the opposite edge of the slit and you won't overcut.)



Sew around the edge of this slit with a buttonhole stitch to finish it. Make sure that if you cut through the lining and the facing, that you sew them together into the buttonhole.



To insert the boning, put it in the hole, slide it up, and make sure the bottom end fits in as well.



I love the strength and flexibility of the spiral steel boning. I buy mine from corsetmaking.com and have been very happy with the service I have received.



Sometimes that last end is a little hard to wiggle into place. Make sure it fits in!



The boning will fit into the channel. Once the binding is on, it won't slip out the bottom, top, OR hole. (Now take the boning out and put it away until you're finished.)

Your back pieces are finished, and we'll attach the backs to the front.

In the previous post, we sewed the gores and facing onto the lining portion of the stays. Now we attach the front piece, which will be the "outside" of the stays.

Slash your hip and bust gore lines if you haven't already, and cut the armhole as marked. If you are not using pinking shears, staystitch along the edges before cutting.

Starting with your second busk facing, line it up with the one you've already stitched in place at the busk opening (which should have been at the bottom of the lining).

Lay your front piece on top of your lining piece, creating a "sandwich" with all the gores and facings inside. Once again, line up the center front of the front piece with the center of the busk facing. Consider (again) basting down the center line, or at least pin down the center line, burying the tips of the pins under the layers so as not to draw blood.

Stitch along the busk casing lines you drew in. This is on the lining side of your stay, and will be the only stitches you do "face down". This will hold your facings in place and keep your stays properly aligned to start. Then turn your stays over and stitch a second set of lines outside these lines to form the channels for the cording that will go on either side of your busk. I will detail how to set your sewing machine below, but you will want your second line to be about 3/16 inch from the first line. (1/8 is not enough; 1/4 is too much. If you're not sure if it's large enough, pull your loop turner through the channel. If it is too tight, take out the stitches and try again. If the loop turner wiggles freely, it's too loose.)

Starting again with the hip gores, fold under the raw edges of the slashes, aligning the pressed edge as near to the lining stitching as possible. The sewing lines where you sewed the gores to the lining may occasionally show, which is not a big deal, as there should be enough seam allowance to prevent raw edges from peeking out. Press these edges and pin them.



Top stitch along the edges as before, being sure not to "fall off" onto the gore. As you may be able to see at the right edge of the above photo, the gores are "sandwiched' between the layers.

Again, you may pin these one at a time, or pin two, three or four at once.



This is one of the ways I generally hurt myself. It's easy to catch a finger or hand on one of those pins, especially when pivoting around a point.

Repeat this process with the bust gores.

NOTE: At this point, you may notice that the points of your gores are not as perfectly sealed as you would like. You might have had a little bit that was pressed under come out in the sewing, or there might be some loose strings. Don't worry about it. The next step will enclose those tricky spots, which were troublesome on the originals as well.



Simply zigzag around the points of each gore. If they aren't a little ragged now, they likely will become ragged after a few wearings, so just do it now and get it over with. (On originals, you'll see a sort of buttonhole stitch around the point to protect the edge.)
Do this just on the front. All this stitching will hold your lining pieces in place anyway, and your points, no matter how exact you are, aren't likely to line up perfectly, so you would have some funny shapes showing through on the front.

When you have all these edges done, you've completed the front piece of your stays. (The back pieces will come soon.)

Now to begin the lines for the cording. The thought of cording can be scary, but it's really quite simple, once you've figured out how to set your machine. You will sew lines for the cording, and then later draw the cording through these channels using a loop turner.

The pattern instructions direct you how to mark your lines. I only mark the first line of a series, and then let my sewing machine help me space them properly. Draw the lines on the front of your stays -- you want the best alignment to be the part you can see when you put them on.



To sew the lines, sew directly on the first (marked) line. I begin at the waist, and sew from one edge to the other, backstitching and lifting my needle over the busk area and the lines for the cording that goes along the busk casing.

To sew the next line, I use my sewing machine settings to help me.


I have set my needle so it is aligned to the right. Then I set the WIDTH so it is at its widest point (closest to the right-side of the space in the presser foot). This has been a trial-and-error process for me to determine where to set things but this is the one that works!

Next, I align my needle and presser foot so that the previous stitching line is at the RIGHT edge of my presser foot, in fact, just under the edge of my presser foot. I'll make this photo very large so you can see it.



Test your channels again to make sure they are the size you like. The loop turner should pull through without too much trouble, but with some resistance.

Loop turner. This is worth buying, and you're not likely to have it forever because you will wear it out on your stays.



This is the sort of loop turner you want. You can buy it at JoAnn stores (or probably any other fabric store). It has a round "handle" at one end (for pulling), and the other end has a hook and a latch. They will work together to hold your cording when you pull it through the channels.

Sew in all the lines as directed in the instructions. The cording here provides the proper support for the stays and aids in the smoothing that makes these so very nice to wear. This takes a while but is worth the effort to keep the lines as straight and even as possible.

Coming soon: making the back of the stays, sewing the backs to the fronts, shoulder straps, binding and grommets. That sounds like a lot but is really just sailing home.

The season has begun, and I am sewing like a madwoman. We have some 8-10 women in Prairietown alone who need stays (the 1836 version of a corset) and I'm the gal to do it.
I have been at this for a few years now, and I've developed a few shortcuts and techniques to make stay-making less fussy and as easy as possible. These tips are for the Past Patterns Corded Stay by Saundra Ros Altman, which is a wonderful set of stays to wear in 1836 Prairietown. Some of the original instructions are a little tricky to understand or are perfect for the exact reproduction, but there are quite a few shortcuts that can make it easier, if not an exact replica of the original.
Begin with the pattern. If you work at Conner Prairie, get it from Historic Clothing. Past Patterns provides us with the necessary patterns for our clothing construction. Determine the size by measuring yourself or having someone measure you. The key measurements are the bust (fullest part), waist, hip, and back length. Another measurement I take is from the mid-shoulder blade to the front edge of the armpit. This will help you make your shoulder strap the correct length. Do NOT fudge these measurements!! -- though it is definitely okay to pull them snug. People with more "padding" have a "squish factor" that needs to be taken into account.

Cut out your pattern pieces according to size. If you have a very full bust, you can adjust the pattern by cutting your bust gore pieces longer and cutting the slashes for the gores a bit deeper. This gives more room for the bust so it's not all perched on top. In addition, cut four strips: two approx. 3 to 3-1/2 inches wide and two 1-1/2 to 2 inches wide, the length of the body. These are facings for the actual boning channels, and are not in the pattern.


The narrow facings go in the back piece, about a half-inch in from the folded edge.
In this photo, we have opened out one back piece (the creased fold is the center back) and placed it atop a finished set of stays to see where the facing goes. Baste it in place. Do the same with the other back piece. 

It is tempting to start in, cutting and shaping, but there are a few steps you should take to ensure success later in this project.
First, if you have them, use pinking shears to cut out all the pieces of your stays. You'll end up covered in little teeny tiny pieces of unraveled fabric, but the coutil we use for the stays unravels very easily.
If you do not use pinking shears, your next step is to zig-zag stitch around all your edges with your sewing machine. This takes time but is well worth the effort in your pieces staying whole as you work with them.
I generally double-up the gores (almost always the bust gores; sometimes the hip gores). If you're zigzagging the edges, go ahead and put together the two gores that will go together -- this will save you time later.


Also, transfer all marks from the pattern onto your fabric pieces. Seam allowances don't really need drawn on (if you can remember them) but put on the cutting lines for the bust and hip gores, the arm hole, the center busk, and the busk hole.
I use the special disappearing fabric marker for all my markings. This washes out with plain water when you're finished and doesn't get on other things -- tables, clothing, etc. -- though the edges of some of my straight-edges are suspiciously blue.
It is perfectly okay to make the markings on one half of each front piece and then cut through both layers, but be sure to mark the front and the lining separately (because cutting through all four layers is hard).
You will begin working on the lining piece. Set aside the actual front for later.

Go ahead and cut the slashes for the bust and hip gores and the arm hole. If you're using pinking shears, you can just cut them. If you're using straight scissors, the pattern instructions have you stay-stitch along each slash before cutting it; this is a really good idea. Once again, the unraveling will cause heartache.


As you can see, I have cut the slashes for both the hips and bust at the same time. If you are hesitant, by all means, just do one set at a time.
I recommend starting with the hip gores.
This is where the provided directions become a bit confusing, but I offer a shortcut that will make you much happier.
(Is your iron on full heat and full steam? If not, go turn it on and make sure it's full. This will help a lot.)
Lay your lining piece on your ironing board. (My photos have me ironing left-handed, so you may need to face your piece the opposite direction. Or not. I'm very confused.) Open the first slash slightly.

Begin to gently turn the cut edges under approximately a quarter inch (no measuring necessary, just make sure the edges are turned completely under for the entire length of the slash). Press this edge under, so you have a folded edge on top.
Repeat for the other side of the slash so both edges are folded under and pressed. The steam from your iron will help a lot -- coutil is very stout and needs some persuasion.
Your finished pressed gore slash will have no cut edges showing as they are now pressed under.

Do this with all four of your hip slashes.
To put the hip gore into place, put the triangular hip gore piece under the slash. Pin one edge onto the gore -- if you've marked the seam allowances, you can put the folded edge right on those seam allowances. If not, place the first pressed edge about half an inch from the edge of the gore, and then "open out" the slash into a triangular shape approximating the shape of the gore.


Pin through the lining piece and gore, with the gore placed under the lining. If the person who is wearing the stays has wider hips, make the triangle larger, with more of the gore exposed. If she is narrower in the hips, you can "close" the gap a little.
Pin through all layers except the ironing board cover.


The finished pinned gore looks like this.
Wait. Folding under the edge? I'm not sure I can do that. I'm not that precise.
That's okay. Just flip it over and press the edges where you can see them.


This is what the back side looks like before you put the gores on. See the lack of unraveling? Pinking shears, folks.


This is the back, with the gores pinned in. (Still pin it in from the front.)
And here it is, ready for sewing.


You will sew on this, the "right" side of the fabric (which, incidentally, will end up being the "inside" of the stays -- the side closest to your body. The gores will end up sandwiched between the front and the lining).



Begin at one edge of the gore. With your needle centered for this stitch (you can set it to one side, if you wish), you will want to sew as near to the pressed edge without going over the edge of the gore. Sew up one side of the gore to the point, then, with the needle lowered and presser foot lifted, pivot the fabric so you can sew back down the other side of the triangle. This topstitching would not be the period-appropriate way to sew stays (no sewing machines, remember), but makes quick work of sewing in the gores.



When you have all four hip gores in place, it's time to repeat the process with the bust gores. Once again, if the wearer has a more ample bust, you will want to open out the gores a little wider; one with a smaller bust will want narrower openings.



With the bust gores, you can hold open the slash for ironing.



Press all four bust gore slashes open.



Place two bust gores together (if you zigzagged them, they already are) and treat them as one when pinning them into the opening.



It is okay if this doesn't lay completely flat, but you do want all your edges to be smooth and without puckers.

You can pin all your gores at once before stitching them in, or do two at a time, or even one at a time. The fewer pins in place in your working project, the fewer opportunities to gash yourself on them as you sew. Or so I hear.

Once the gores are sewn in, you are going to mark your center front and align one of the wider facing strips at the center front. Pin it so its center is aligned with the lining piece center, on the "wrong" side of the lining piece (the side which will be "inside" the sandwich). You may choose to baste down the center through both layers -- I usually use a needle and thread and hand-baste very long stitches, usually with colored thread so I don't forget it's there.

Mark on the front of the lining, the lines that will go on either side of the busk. This may be done by centering the busk vertically on that center basting stitch, then making lines on either side of the busk piece, remembering not to make them too close to the edge, or you'll have trouble sliding the wood into the casing when it's finished. (1/8 inch ease should be enough.)

Then, using the pattern placement or 1 1/2 inches as your guide, draw in the busk opening. This can be cut open and then hand-sewn (buttonhole stitch), but I use my machine zigzag stitch. I set it to the buttonhole stitch settings (about 4 on width and .75 on length) and align the needle with the edge of my line, not yet cut.


(The second set of lines were too wide for the busk. I later wiped them off.)
Zigzag along this line, pivoting at the end (just over the edge of the busk line) to turn, the back toward the starting point.
When you have completed this very large buttonhole, you can slit along the line, being careful not to cut through any stitches. I use my seam-ripper to make the neatest slice.

With this, you have finished the lining piece of your stays. The next post will see the front piece attached.

Wouldn't it be fun to have a taffy pull as one of the guest activities for Ella's Birthday Party on the Prairie?

Oh! That would be SO COOL! I know we have recipes in the Buckeye for candy!

(voice of reason): Maybe we should try it out ahead of time first.

So we tried ahead of time. The recipe said not to stir the ingredients, so we did not.
First attempt:

Candy-ish but granular.

Second try attempted to change the first error: stirring before putting it on the stove.



Then we placed it in the pan for cooking.


We cut the recipe down in order to not go through all of the sugar and other ingredients in the house as we were not stocked up like America's Test Kitchen.




Boiled until it reached soft crack stage (about 280 degrees).




Poured it out on a buttered pan.




Turned the edges in when cool enough to handle (or not). Those are the fingers of Ellen (left) and Mel (right).




It still is too hot to handle, but cooling and stringing rapidly.




Ellen assures us this soft, golden-colored blob of lava is moving in the right direction. It's still wicked hot.




Mel adds some flavoring. It turned out to have no effect on the finished product but made a nice smell.



Well. We tried to pull it, and burned our hands. We tried to pull it into sticks and it cooled and hardened too quickly to really make the sticks we'd hoped to make.




Ellen contemplates the candy piece. It does look okay...



Hmmm... actually, it tastes pretty good, too.



But Mel's burned hands reveal that maybe this isn't as guest-friendly as we had hoped...

Back to the drawing board.

(P.S. It is very tasty and tastes like butterscotch candies.)

A while back I received a mysterious package in the mail. The contents turned out to be some fabric over which I had drooled some years ago -- fabric which a beloved friend had purchased and never sewn into a dress. Appropriate for 1836, it is a delightful riot of blues, yellows, reds... in short, perfect. And Mer could no longer use it, and would it be possible for me to find a use for it?

It began with the book Costume in Detail, a very fine book with line drawings of actual garments in various collections from 200 years of glorious fashions. Some years back, on our first trip to England (sorry Mel, yes, I am a brat) I was able to see some of the items included in the Snowshill Collection (prominently featured in this book). In fact, the dress I have chosen to reproduce with Mer's lovely fabric is one from the book, and one I actually saw. Can I pass on this idea? (No.)

Paula gave me a pattern, which I cut out, tried on my duct-tape form, and altered to get the basic shape at the back, neck and shoulders that would work with the dress design. I then draped muslin over the shoulders and back to create a sort of cape-like collar for the back and gathered bands that drape from the shoulders to the waist, meeting in the center of the bodice. Once I finally got those pieces shaped properly, I then cut new lining pieces out of muslin, and then re-fit them to the dress form, and used them as my pattern pieces.

These are the back collar pieces. They end at the shoulder, and are sewn into the armscye at the front edge. The book gives appropriate measurements, which, in a couple of instances, ended up being accurate when I forgot to measure one or the other aspect. Nice when things work out well.




Sleeves, complete with double piping on the cuffs, are sewn in. It's hard to enjoy all the detail as the fabric (and background) is plenty busy, but this part worked out great. Totally excited about this!




Shoulder detail. Once again, I will have to figure out how to photograph this stuff to show detail. But cool. And working out correctly.




Waistband sewn on (double piping at top, also will be added at the bottom.

The dress still needs the neckline finished (more double piping, anyone?), the back finished (who doesn't love a row of hooks and eyes?) and the skirt sewn together, attached, and hemmed. For those who are keeping track, I'm about to enter into the world of handwork. I'm also adding a belt to fit over the waistband -- not sure what the original belt looked like, as it was missing from the original (as was one of the front bands), so I am going to make it a self-fabric belt, well-starched, with hooks and eyes to close it.





Closer detail of the front bands where they meet the waistband at the center of the bodice.

More pictures to come as I progress. I think I'll need some nice sleeve puffs of my own?

I finished my second pair of socks today. They have been "in the works" for quite a while, but I've had trouble finishing them as I've been reworking my knitting technique (the small needles made practicing a little tricky). Anyhow, new technique perfected, I finished this pair of bad boys today.
On a related subject, I'm pretty sure there's enough yarn in the ball for a third sock. What do you think? Should I make a backup sock?
:)

We got stuck doing "craft projects" the other day when we were "snowed in". I LOVE craft projects. Or, um... not.
Here are a couple pictures of the boys and glue.







And then just when I'm about to get the cutest picture EVER...

I am contemplating a new 1836 dress.
Never mind that I don't really need one -- except I do, kind of. The ones I have, I made in 2001 and 2002 and are sort of... blah.
I have a "fancy" dress made in 2003, but that one is strictly sleeve-puff glory, and I'd like one that I can use otherwise too.
And Fabric.com is having a great sale until Monday.
So.
Cast your vote. What shall I have?

Posies Black:


Dahlia Blue:


Lacy Stripes, Coffee or Blue:


Pins, Red/Yellow:


Vine Stripe, Cream/Blue:


I like the stripes for the "fun" one can have with stripes in fabric, especially with 1836 dresses. I can order enough of this to do them diagonally, cutting in toward the waist to make it look smaller... it's all about the illusion, folks.

So... please... vote for the right fabric for my new dress.

We've made it halfway through the Thanksgiving holiday weekend with little drama... It's been a good time. I thought I would include a few Thanksgiving tales to get you through a few days. As if everyone is yearning for another post from me. Ha ha. (Well, maybe just mom.)




For our first exhibit, I present Pilgrim and Native American (complete with Dutch klompfen), preparing for a truly memorable Thanksgiving feast (a few days early).


Here is Mr. "Yes, You May Take My Picture" before Thanksgiving Eve service at church. Mark was not in the mood to join his brother for a handsome boys photo, so you just get one.

That angelic face brings us into other joys of Thanksgiving...




We had Thanksgiving Dinner at home (as you can tell by our fancy china and glassware)... I made turkey, sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberries, mashed potatoes and gravy from scratch, and had help with the stuffing (Stove Top), rolls (packaged) and pumpkin pie (refrigerated crust, pie made from scratch with help from boys).

The true Thanksgiving miracle was that, while they might not have eaten mightily, neither boy complained about the food put before him, and Mark actually ate some of everything on his plate. Amazing.

Today the boys went with Tim to some stores (they were not up and shopping at 4 a.m. -- more like 10). At Home Depot, they met up with Santa Claus, sat on his lap, and told him what they wanted. Mark, of course, reported back that he told him he wanted a Lego Crane (Grandma can feel pleased in what he will be getting).
Adam told Santa what he wanted. Santa glanced at Daddy and said, "What did he say he wanted?"
Mark stepped in for the save: "He said he wants a Statue of Liberty."

Yes. Adam is still quite adamant. Other Christmas wishes may have changed, but one thing has remained the same: Adam wants a Statue of Liberty for Christmas.

I don't know why.

One very nice thing about Tim being home is that I get to do other projects. Here is what I have worked on the past couple of days:


A close inspection will reveal that the print here is train cars of all kinds. The fabric was given to me -- given. That's right, given -- by a Conner P mom whose boys have outgrown their train obsessions, leaving her with too much train fabric left. I was sewing clothing for one of her boys, and she told me she had this stuff and would I like it? The front, you see. The back is the train fabric. The batting is cotton/bamboo, and it's put together with spray-on quilting adhesive to hold it together (and safety pins) until I can quilt it.

This is for Adam's big boy bed -- when it arrives. He is still in his toddler bed for now, but when the time comes, he will have a bedspread and (if all goes well) a valance for his window as well. Thanks, Mrs. S., for the fabric!!! :)

Okay, that's all for now. More later. Good night!

Sorry for all of you who want cute pictures of the boys... mom... but I am pressing on with my experiment in Pattern Drafting.

Since the last episode, I traced the pattern onto tracing interfacing, cut it out, and used those pieces as pattern pieces for my block or sloper. I cut this out of a lovely (or not so) watermelon fabric I had acquired large amounts of long ago, adding seam allowances, and sewed it up...
Aside from arm holes that were too small (I have big arms. That's the truth), it fit pretty well! :) I took photos which are largely unflattering and haven't been posted. It's my blog. I can decide that.

Next step, then, was to follow the instructions to alter the "block" pattern into a basque, the period "jacket" top that goes with a skirt to make a perfect 1880s dress. In order to make room for the front darts, I did expand the front a bit... we may revisit that later...

The next pattern looks like this:

My goal in drawing and cutting all of this out (after the watermelon-print block) is to have everything period-appropriate to work on out in 1886 if necessary. So at the bottom, where I taped another strip of paper on, I have since removed the tape and pinned it together. 3M had not yet produced Scotch (TM) tape, not to mention the special matte kind used for wrapping birthday presents.

I bought cheap muslin on my recent JoAnn's run, so I traced the pattern lines onto the muslin using blue chalk, then folded it over and cut it out, thus leaving the drawing intact.

I sewed it together but haven't yet tried it on.

Stay tuned for more...

As promised in the previous post, I have now taken some photos of my efforts to draft patterns following Hecklinger's Ladies Garments.

It's a little hard to see, but this is the pattern drafted to their medium-sized measurements. The front is to the left, the center back the slightly off-parallel line to the right. I didn't think it too bad for my first effort. :)




Next is the version to my measurements. Please note that I have NOT chosen to place them side-by-side for comparison. I have also left off the front darts due to the necessity for adjustment for a better fit and my particular variations from the classic fit.




Finally, I cut the pieces out (no seam allowances yet) of interfacing to make actual pattern pieces so as not to have to cut my drafting artwork. These pieces look familiar to me.

This is the basic pattern, which the text will then modify to create the various looks, whether a low-neck dress or basque jacket. I will point out that later, in modifying the pattern to the various styles, we'll find the letters reused and shuffled around to describe different points in the diagram. Someone should really talk with Mr. Hecklinger about this.

To be continued...

Several years back, friend and historic clothing guru Ericka handed me a red folder. "Try this sometime. I think you're up for it."

Inside, I found a copy of the long out-of-print Hecklinger's Ladies garments "How to Cut and Make Up Ladies' Garments" from February 1886.

Now, I have some patterns I have used from my Prairie job for myself and others, so just why is it I need to draft patterns? Education, edification, expanding the mind... or maybe I'm just nuts.

So the folder has waited on my shelf until I'm silly enough to try it.

Which was this week.

So, the next blogs that are on this subject (until I a) finish something, b) lose heart, or c) get distracted and do something else) will detail some of my exploits in learning to draft a pattern to measure.

To start, I took the measurements required. The chart given shows where to measure, assigning letters to keep them straight. Have no fear, my friends, they will never refer to those letters in the text, as far as I have discovered, and actually use those letters in drafting in completely unrelated places. Lesson one, learned.

I thought I would draft out the pattern to my own measurements, adjusting the numbers given in the text for their "sample". That got very very confusing. Lesson two, learned.
Lesson two-and-a-half (on the same paper as the first attempt) included not using precise tools or smooth, clean paper. A tape measure does not equal a straightedge. Lesson two-and-a-half, learned.

I started over, drafting out the pattern to the (much not the same as mine) sample measurements, making it pretty much match the illustration in the book. I used large sheets of blank newsprint from when we moved, paper that has been rolled up by the gross of sheets in the garage. Perfect for the task. I spread out on my cleaned-off sewing table with my cutting pad under the paper, taped the edges down, and began, using my quilting tools to draw straight lines. The sample draft came out perfectly! Excitement!

See? Easy as this! (Please note the letters, which, as I mentioned earlier, do not correspond with the measurement points given, except for "O".)


So I set the tiny sample aside. No, kids, my waist is not what the sample waist was. I took my own measurements and wrote them down next to the corresponding measurements given in the sample. (I had previously done this and recorded them as given on the measurement chart, only to find myself totally confused by the letters given -- see Lesson One.)

I started, got partway through, thought "This looks odd" and tried to make corrections and succeeded in making a giant mess, where I should have just worked my way through to the end. Lesson three, solidly learned.

So I started over, following the instructions, and achieved something that looks roughly like the one in the book, only bigger, with different proportions and not as much by way of darts. Hmmm. Photos will follow. I traced the pieces onto interfacing to cut out, so as not to harm my original piece of artwork (See, I didn't even HAVE to learn that the hard way!) and chose to be finished so I could go to bed at a reasonable time. Work tomorrow and all, you know...

I'll take photos of my completed drafts and include them later, but I have to keep you hanging for something. More to come...

After more than 40 hours, I have the grand glory of presenting a major completed project...

This 1857 Promenade Dress is the Patterns of History pattern, in silk, lined in cotton. The undersleeves and collar are from the same pattern, in cotton.

The hooped petticoat (you can't see it; it's underneath!) is Past Patterns' hooped petticoat (without the flounce).

The silk is from Fashion Fabrics Club (.com) and the trims are all from Joann fabric.

The project is for the Wylie House Museum in Bloomington, IN. It will be a supporting character in a theatrical program in September, October and November at the museum, Talk of the Times, Letters from the Wylie Family, 1852-1865.

All in all, I'm quite pleased.

One of my big interests in going on my trip was the chance to see some great fashion from my way-back-when time periods. There was a chance for me to get study appointments at both the Fashion Museum at Bath and the Victoria & Albert Museum, but they were for naught.

I got a glimpse of fashion anyhow.

This is a fabulous ventilated corset that Paula and I would love to replicate at our Prairie. The time is a little late, though (1890), but I did see documentation on one that was ventilated around the waist, so that's a great start. (This is at the V&A.)

We were a little disappointed in the Fashion museum at Bath, especially since (*horror of horrors*) they do not display their stuff chronologically but by subject. And the text on the displays was pretty dumbed-down. And some of the things I was interested in were made harder to see because of bad lighting. But.

This shows the new analine dyes that made some bright colors possible for the first time. Before, all dyes were natural and left many bright colors unachievable or unstable. Chemical dyes were more stable and able to last through the ages. Like this. :)

A nice corset.

A bustle dress to die for. I swooned.

Even David got into the fun in the interactive part of the exhibit.

At Shakespeare's Globe Theatre "Experience" there were some costumes on display. I know they're not real olde-tyme, but they were nice and cool (they were form performances).

I wouldn't mind wearing this.

What man wouldn't look dashing in this? (Especially the ruff. Every man needs a good ruff!)

 

Mer, how am I doing? :)

 

In fact, no one in our house is.

This is me, making sure the kids have clean spoons and plates for breakfast. (I had to heat the water on the stove, and we don't have as big kettles to heat it in as we do at the Zimmerman Farmhouse.) I'm even wearing a blue apron.

The water heater went out -- it's been limping along for a while, but since we already spent our home improvement budget for the year, we hoped it was just being finicky -- right as Tim was leaving for St. Louis for a couple days. Last night he and the boys went to Sears and bought

but he was short some of the necessary tools, so the actual installation has to wait until tonight.

Brrrrrr.

 

Today, after they finished lunch, Mark shouted to me from the living room, "Is it naptime?"

I wondered if he was already tired. "I don't know. Is it naptime?" I asked him.

"It's only noon," he replied, as if I was a fool.

I glanced at my watch. 12:01. Geez. Too bad he can't tell time.

----

We took a little walk before naptime (it was only noon, after all, and Adam was cranky) and stopped off at the house with the rocks by the sidewalk. The boys love to play with the "rock lady's" rocks. Today, the Rock Lady's daughter was leaving, and she stopped to say hello. Apparently, the boys met her already. Mark even asked what she was doing there. I mean, it's his rock lady, after all.

----

I have one dress finished but for the hem, a daycap finished but for the ties, an apron and petticoat finished, and a dress bodice in process. I have another dress and daycap "on deck", plans to start another friend's stuff once her life settles down a little bit (and I get some of this cleared up), request for a corset for a long-time corset wearer whose corset is falling apart, and a project for another museum (but they don't need it until fall).

I have peely and blistery fingers and a great sense of accomplishment when I get even a part of it done. Like "Wheee! I just attached piping!" Simple things make me happy.

----

Then there's Adam. We played "ou-si" this afternoon and he collected sticks and rocks and dumped sand on the ground and wandered around saying "yuck!" and wanting his hands wiped off. He practiced saying "wwwwww-wock!" as he showed me a rock. He stuck a stick in his mouth. He ate dirt and sand. It was a good time.

----

Mark and I planted sunflower seeds from Grandma Sarah. Hope they come up!

----

Eh. Yeah.

It's spring.

As the package containing this has been received, I can now reveal what the fabulous batik was for...

This is a friendship star quilt for my friend Angela, a college acquaintance who has grown to be a dear friend since. Her favorite colors are green and purple, and after a second surprise box of goodies from her (she has now learned that I get giddy -- and a little teary -- over presents), I wanted to do something...

I've been reading a series of books about quilters and I do like to make a little quilt now and then, though I'm far from talented at it. I had a little bundle of fat quarters I've been hanging on to for a while (read: hoarding) and decided that this was a way to use some!

(By the way, it really isn't as hourglass-shaped as the picture. I had it hanging from the cabinet doors and it ended up draping over the edge of the counter top.)

The quilt was inspired by one in a book by another quilter, but the book it was in has the tiniest little quilts and I didn't want to go that small, so I made my own pattern based on hers. I ended up hand-quilting it because I don't have a walking foot, which would make both the top and bottom of the piece go through the machine at the same rate (Christmas list), and I even got some fancy thread for the binding and some of the quilting. It was a fun project, and I called it "Surprise! Friendship".

Yeah, everyone, drool over this:

This is a beautiful piece of batik fabric I got recently for a project that will not be revealed here, at least not yet. It was exactly what I was looking for to use in the project I had in mind, and I found it at our new needlework store, Always in Stitches (which carries fabrics, yarns, and accessories for quilting, knitting, felting, etc.).

Did I mention it was just what I was after? The colors were in perfect harmony with what I already had.

I think I need some fancy thread now.

The other day, I was at my favorite store in the world, and I saw the most impressive rack of sari and brocade fabrics. Now I have always wished that I could wear a sari -- I think they look cool and comfortable and I love the textures and colors and weaves of the fabrics. And this time -- yes, wait for it -- they were on sale! Granted, we're not talking about real silk here (it was a local fabric store after all), but in one's modern clothes, one doesn't always have to be a snob (though if someone wants to buy me some real silk sari fabrics, don't let this stop you).

So I went through the pattern book to find a blouse that would look nice in such a fabric and found this:

After a while and a lot of contemplation, I chose a fabric (the first choice was in pieces on the bolt), and within a few hours, I had a blouse ready to wear on my date with Tim last Saturday night. (It's the dark blue blouse in the right-hand column on the package.)

This evening I finally finished finishing all the seams (it's a very easily unraveled fabric) and attached the bow on the front, and so I present Gertie wearing my new blouse!

and

.

So, it turns out I can sew stuff that comes in an actual pattern envelope, even if it's made of synthetic fabric. :)

Next?

In other news, it turns out that I can sew olde-tyme stuff, too. This is the 1830s bonnet I finished a couple of weeks ago:

My sister-in-law, Mrs. Dunce, always knows just the right thing for the holidays.

So come Mer, come Mel, come Laura and Jenna, come Alaina, come ... well, all you history nerds, gather 'round for...

Mrs. Beeton Traditional Housekeeping Trivia Board Game.

What does this game include?

From the website:

Where should silks be dried? Which fruit was used in Bachelor’s Pudding? This charming board game tests your knowledge of life in Victorian England, all according to the domestic goddess of the era, Mrs Beeton. Share her pearls of wisdom about manners, etiquette and the running of an orderly household! The first player to work their way around the board and correctly answer a question from all 6 categories is the winner.

Presented in a tin to keep it dust-free and pristine, just how Mrs Beeton would have liked it.

Mrs. Dunce was apparently disappointed that the photo I included showed none of her finery.

Of course I did it to spare her feelings, and to avoid pointing out that, though the Dunce says that her sister might have had an unusual smile as a child, we wouldn't know about the future Mrs. Dunce, since she chose not to smile for her photos. And so I offer you, the future Mrs. Dunce in her finery:

 

(my apologies for the photo quality; the scanner isn't hooked up, so I had to use the photograph-the-photo method.)

Sorry also for getting distract by this post and following the link it provided. Now back to my commentary.

And so. Now the photographic evidence of Mrs. Dunce's fashion at a young age...

 

 

Now I need to know what I owe Roberta-in-law (mother of Mrs. Dunce).

Amanda gets the big house...

While Heather-in-law is relegated to the hard life of a pioneer.

Even then, the future Mrs. Dunce was no fool. "She always did have champagne tastes!" says her mother. Which, of course, is why she hooked up with the Dunce in the end.

It may not be my fabulous silk -- gee, Roberta, what were you thinking in depriving your daughters??? ha ha -- but the pictures were a hoot, and the Noblesvillian and I agree the young ladies in question grew up just fine despite the shocking upbringing. Taking them to an olde tyme place! Dressing them in old clothes! SHOCKING!

 A Little Boy got to join his mommy for a couple of hours at our olde tyme town. We were having a special Civil War weekend (a very quiet one, compared to the earlier one), and the Boss said young Master Adam could come by in his historical clothing.

He mostly wanted to just go watch the pigs (see the fence in the background).

He walked around with Mommy. He was cute and people loved him. He wasn't quite as outgoing as his brother was at his first visit to the Prairie in the same olde tyme clothes. (Remember?...

Mark with mommy, left, but taking of with Laura. P.S. He still likes Laura an awful lot, even though she's far far away.)

But he got to be cute, and he had fun, and he DID get to flirt with the girls from the Young Ladies Living History Society of Cincinnati, who were our guests at the event. He made a couple of particular friends from that group. Yeah, and he decided to hold hands with someone else's mommy -- not letting go of his own mommy at the same time -- and I thought maybe she'd have to join our family before it was all over. But he got to be cute and that was nice.

Author's Note: As a result of the below comment from Heather-in-law, I am willing to pay good cash money or prizes or admiration for photographic evidence of her and Mrs. Dunce in historical clothing of any level of cuteness. This offer should also be extended to the mother of the ladies in question.

Last week I ordered some silk for a hat or two that I'm working on. I ordered 5 one-yard pieces of silk, various colors. Great price, too, by the way.

Yesterday I got notification from the supplier that my order had been shipped, and here's the tracking information.

So. It was picked up at 4 p.m. on Tuesday in St. Louis. Arrived in the Fed Ex "sortation center" in Missouri that evening, was sorted overnight and departed in the morning.

It arrived in Grove City, Ohio (southwest suburb of Columbus) yesterday afternoon, was sorted, and left early this morning. "Electronic shipping information" was sent from Cincinnati, Ohio, about an hour later.

Now. It seems to me that the most likely route from St. Louis, Missouri, to Columbus, Ohio, is a very fine interstate that goes from city to city. It's called Interstate 70, and it runs right through Indianapolis -- which seems to be to be a great place for a package being shipped to Noblesville to stop. Perhaps they don't have the manpower in Indianapolis -- oh, wait a minute! There's a FedEx HUB in Indianapolis. Right off Interstate 70. Hmmm.

Perhaps it's being transported by the participants in ABC's new and certainly uplifting Fat March (egads).

Perhaps it's being brought by carrier pigeon.

Perhaps it's walking on its own.

The estimate "in home" date (I realize these dates are padded a bit to make room for weather, traffic, etc.) is August 27. Does it even take a week to crawl from St. Louis to Indianapolis????

Update, Thursday afternoon: 11:37 a.m. Enroute Cincinnati, Ohio; 12:37 p.m. Shipment Accepted Cincinnati, Ohio. I still don't know how going there is going to get things here...Please let Andrea's book shipment be a fluke, please let Andrea's book shipment be a fluke...

Update, Sunday evening, it's been "enroute" from Cincinnati since the 23rd. Tomorrow is the 27th and I guess the estimated time in home might be about right...

First of all, it's happened. I've threated for several years to do this in some form or another (at one point threatening to get it for Big Mama and then ask to use it a lot) but now it's happened...

Gertie has become a part of my home. A lady in town had a whim and bought her a couple years ago and hasn't used her. She's advertised her in the paper a few times; finally, today, I saw her in the classifieds. $30 beats regular prices of close to $200, I think. So if it's just a whim for me, well, I'm not out that much...

And. Just when you thought it was safe to ask questions...

The other night I called Mark in for supper. As he came in from the family room, where he'd been playing with trains, he said, "I need a new diaper." (sort of like Grandpa disappearing into the bathroom when Grandma called us all for supper when we were kids and they were "dad" and "mom".)
"You do?" I asked, surprised that he'd even mention it. Usually he doesn't care.

"I can't sit in my chair with a nasty ol' yucky diaper while I eat," he replied. Duh.

Oh. Yeah. And Adam can go up the stairs.

Yup. Up the stairs. All the way up. (I'm not that bad of a mom -- I was right behind him. After about three stairs.)

Is over once again.

Most of the stories will have to tell themselves at other times and in other places.

But imagine if you will those questionable characters you see above as some of your ancestors. And shudder just a little.

It was a glorious weekend; I lost track of all the wonderful conversations I had with guests. For the first time, I found myself more able to connect and engage adults than children. This was because we were a little lacking in "interactives" -- chores for the kids to do, appropriate period items for the kids to play with, etc. -- and because a lot of the talk about the Civil War was more theoretical. Aside from learning some very interesting information about a time period I don't know much about, I also gained some valuable successes in interpreting to adults, connecting with things they know already and then bringing in things they don't.

What about costumed third-person interpretation? Hmm. I like it on occasion for a special project -- I think it gives our guests an "inside peek", letting them feel "in on" what's going on behind the scenes. I think that if you did it all the time, it wouldn't be special. And there wouldn't be the other side, the really terrific first-person interactions, where guests feel like they "actually" met someone from history.

I haven't worked three days in a row since the preschool closed. And I certainly haven't worked three days in a row at the Prairie with more than 1000 guests in, well, 15 years. We had something like 1,400 school kids on Friday (plus other guests), and near 4,000 per day on Saturday and Sunday. The weather was perfect, there was a lot going on, and I think just about everyone had a good time.

See what a few days' perspective will do for a person?

Says Aili: "I shot me a Yankee!"
"I got one, too," replies Mel.

John wants us to know soldiering is serious business.

Kyle wants to know why spoon bonnets went out of style.

Why, sewing, of course!

Civil War Weekend at "my" Prairie is just two weeks away!

I have made this. It looks rather like what you see. It was from a kit from Needle and Thread. For more information, go here.

These have arrived. They are from here.

I was at the local antique shop a couple weeks ago, looking for something that spoke my sister-in-law's name but wasn't too large or fragile to take back to her country. I didn't find it. What I did find, I thought was pretty cool.

(This is not the actual item; more on why later.)

I'd been flipping through a pile of "old" photos. What caught my eye first was the woman's nice 1880s dress; this is why I picked it up. Then at the bottom of the image (not here, the actual one) was the name of the photographer's studio, Arnold, and the location, Watertown, Dakota. Watertown, Dakota! I know that! It's Tim's hometown. Of course, since 1889 and the statehood for the two states made from the Dakota Territory, it's been a part of South Dakota, but never mind that. I shelled out the $2 for the picture as a neat item from Tim's hometown.

Yesterday good friend and fellow living history and historical clothing nerd Mel was over for a visit after our museum's holiday breakfast (she needed a Mark and Adam fix, and we needed a good visit), and I showed her the picture. We spent a good many minutes enjoying the lady's dress, pointing out that she's slumping (even in her corset, an art an experienced corset-wearer masters), checking out the frizzes at the top of her head (either side of the part, and you have to look closely), and, of course, speculating on which of the boys was the rebel and who was the solid, trustworthy one. We decided that the father was a Civil War veteran.

This naturally led to wondering about the family. Who were they? How did this picture end up in an antique shop in Noblesville? Whatever happened to them?... And on. Yeah. Dead a long time. Who knows... But I thought, "Golly, that would give me something interesting to do the next time we make the trip out to Watertown. I could take this to the Mellette House or the local historical society and do a little research."

Later in the evening, Tim speculated that there could be a "Mellette connection" -- Governor Arthur C. Mellette, the first governor of South Dakota, was originally from Muncie, Indiana (not that far from here). So he went online to read up a little on the illustrious fellow. "Find a picture!" I demanded. "Find a picture!"

The very first picture of the governor answered my first question.

 

 

 

 

 

Who were these people? Why, it's the governor and his family: his wife Maggie and their sons (left to right) Wylie, Dick, Anton and Charles.

And the photo I pasted in my blog -- the same one I picked up in the antique shop? That comes from the page about the Mellette family on the Mellette House's website. The Mellette House was his home in Watertown, at the top of the bluff, a mere eight blocks from Tim's family's home.

I still wonder how it got to my little antique shop, and it does make me curious about the people in the picture. The next time we're in Watertown, we will visit the Mellette House, and perhaps learn a little more about the family than we could find on the internet.

It was a fun little trip through history.

My small friend Nettie continues to go through physical therapy as they try to help her relearn to use her muscles and wait for her to come out of her coma. She has a long road ahead of her, but last night, friend Ericka arrived to find mommy & daddy seemed much less stressed. Mommy soon explained why.

Nettie had been in therapy, and was finishing up, when the therapist said, "Bye Nettie," and waved at her. No one could believe it when a tiny little hand lifted by itself and bent itself in a little wave. Just a fluke? No. She asked her to wave again, and she did, all by herself.

This was a great day, they told her. Thumbs up. And the little hand turned and stuck her thumb up in the gesture that just might become mommy & daddy's favorite one ever. Not only does it mean she's gaining some control and use of the muscles that have been unused for all this time, it also means Nettie's still there. Thumbs up, Nettie. Hang in there.

Thanks for your prayers and keep them coming.

Stephanie was sitting beside Nettie's bed in the peidatric critical care unit at the hospital on Sunday... not the place a Mommy should have to be. Nettie was becoming restless and trying to open her eyes just a bit and Stephanie stroked her arm and told her "Mommy's here."

(Sorry, can't see the monitor for the tears.)

And Nettie reached out and found Mommy's hand and squeezed it.

And Stephanie said that finally, for the first time since the accident, she saw Nettie there.

Okay, blow your noses and wipe your eyes. Here's the condition update for the day: Nettie has had the pressure probe & drainage shunt removed. She is being weaned from the meds. And most importantly, they have taken her off of the respirator and she is breathing on her own!!!

Keep your prayers coming!

Ericka writes this morning:

"For the first time I am typing this with a smile on my face. The pressure in Nettie's brain for the past 2 days has stayed very low (between 2 & 10). And most importantly, she is keeping it down on her own with minimal assistance from medications!!!! Her fever has been staying down around 99-100. Her blood pressure is stable. She is moving her hands and legs, and seems to respond to family members. They are weaning her from the heavy sedation and all her numbers are staying where they should. All in all, a very good couple of days."

I don't consider the needs for prayers any less, in fact, as she continues to improve, all sorts of new prayers will come up. It's also a joy to see how eagerly my co-workers have pitched in to help with everything from food to money to gardening help. I do truly have a crowd of caring and loving people I work with, and anytime we grit our teeth over such-and-such or this-and-that, it helps to remember what a giving group of people do surround us.

 

It's hardly news because it's a week old, and several of you already have received emails about this, but I just might be able to sit here and write about it without bawling the whole time (likely story, hormones and the rest of the day considered)... But here's an update for those who are keeping up, and a prayer request for those who haven't heard.

Last Thursday evening, my small friend Nettie was hit by a car in front of her house in Cicero. This is a lively, bright, impulsive little 7-year-old whose parents are co-workers of mine at the Prairie, the same little girl who, one evening when her daddy was trying to get some work done at the '86 farmhouse, appeared without her pants. "Where are your pants?" Daddy asked. "I don't know," Nettie (who was 4 at the time) replied. "I buried them." She seemed rather pleased with herself. "Where did you bury them?" There was perhaps a moment's pause, and then a definite answer. "I don't know." It was a good portion of the year later when another historical interpreter found, near the bottom of the compost pile, the formerly new butterfly pants.

A week after the accident -- which seems to have occurred when she darted out into the street in front of a driver who had no chance to avoid her, and seems to have been going the posted speed limit even -- this wild and willful little girl is still hanging on in a show of stubbornness clearly inherited from both parents. Auntie Ericka reports no fewer than 11 IV bags, a bank of computers and monitors that dwarfs this little girl, and perhaps two or three square inches where she can be touched that aren't covered with something or another. Other details get me a little too choked up to dwell on, but even Ericka -- not known for her deep sentimental or soppy nature (*unlike me) -- goes home from seeing her each evening crying.

It'll be a long road for Nettie and her family. Right now she remains in pediatric critical care in a hospital with a marvelous reputation for treating head trauma. Mommy and Daddy are able to spend the night either in the ICU or a nearby lounge, while grandparents and family are looking after little sisters. My co-workers have already covered a sign-up sheet to bring meals for the family, are taking care of the garden, and have donated a good deal of money for the family's expenses at this time. 

Most importantly, the number of prayers for this little girl must be in the zillions. But if you have a moment to add yours, it would be much appreciated.

A follow-up to my previous post, which was written before the final episodes. The name of this entry has been changed in attempt to cut down on "referral" blogspam. Thank you

Oh the things I could say, the rantings I could go on with, the off-color comments about poor Mr. Cooke and his lack of, ahem, you know. (Guts. That's it.)

Texas Ranch House has ended, the experts have spoken, and the ranchers have come up short. Very short, if the truth be told. Hmm, let's see, at the end of their season, their house was a complete filth heap with a serious plague of flies, they had no hands left to work the ranch except their little lapdog Maura, they'd wasted an entire garden worth of vegetables ("We don't eat very many vegetables back home," youngest daughter Hannah sheepishly admitted when their expert visited before the program was over and discovered mounds and mounds of produce spoiling in the garden), but, by golly, they had cute little sayings they'd embroidered to make the house more homey, and they were pretty well-juiced on self-righteousness.

Ah. May I rant about the flies? Some hoards of flies are to be expected. But when you leave dirty dishes and wasted food sitting around for over a week because you're too flipping lazy to clean up after your big party to send off the cowhands on the cattle drive, you're going to have a serious problem.

Mrs. Cooke, keeper of supplies, withholding even surplus food, really showed her selfishness. The fact that the boys were starving while the Cooke family let the garden go to almost complete waste -- and sometimes traded away the produce for luxuries like milled soap -- is appalling. She was responsible for doling out food supplies, and never seemed to consider that the boys might like to have something out of the garden. [And when they were without a cook, and had to eat at the house, she treated them like they should be beholden to her for her magnanimity.]

The daughters were upset because not a one of the cowhands asked them to dance during the fandango. Perhaps the cowhands had been specifically told by their father from day one that they were to stay away from his family and leave his daughers alone... And when the hands were leaving (I wanted to cheer for them on that one, by the way), the girls whined and cried because the cowhands hadn't befriended them. Gee, wonder why. Talk to dad about that, girls.

The evaluators put the blame squarely on Mr. Cooke's shoulders for the fact that the ranch would not survive. But Mrs. Cooke, who could have been a unifying force for all the women -- and men -- on the ranch, is the one who ruined it for everyone. Instead of teaching her daughters (and girl-of-all-work) how to be true 19th-century women, instead of working to fulfill the duties of a ranch wife, she spent her time undermining her husband's authority, making rules, whining about how badly the hands were behaving (thank you, evaluators, for calling them sophomoric, which was true, but which seemed to be about the only real criticism they were given), and generally trying to run the ranch without doing any actual work.

And then there's Mr. Cooke, who couldn't go off on the cattle drive because he was "needed at the ranch". For what, for goodness' sake? (Well, because he couldn't stand to be that far away from his, ahem, guts, that were in Mrs. Cooke's pocket all this time.) Aside from the fact that he was completely useless on the cattle drive because he hadn't been out with his men at any other time, he was just too wrapped up in self to take part in the biggest work of the entire project. [And the fact that the fellow set up to "buy" the cattle from him agreed to buy the cattle they didn't want was just a way to smooth feelings and fix a situation that poor dumb Mr. Cooke didn't plan properly.]

I imagine my own participation in Texas Ranch House would leave me looking a bit daft and neurotic to a television audience, but I imagine I would do a few things a little better. I'd dress properly. I understand a corset and how to use it, and I'd wear mine. I would also wear clothes over my underwear (thank you writers for including comments on that in the narration), and I would wear my hair up to promote cleanliness and to cool myself off. I would understand the value of cleanliness, and would not leave dishes to sit around for days, drawing more and more flies until they swarmed so severely that even our dining porch was unfit for meals. That would mean washing the dishes promptly in the hottest water possible (lye soap does work when the water's hot enough). Of course, that means you don't plunge your hands into the water right away; you wash things using a knife or wooden spoon as a washrag holder/dipper until the water cools more. (This also cuts the grease, kids, and kills germs.) I would salt down all food preparation surfaces, probably daily. I never saw anyone do that at all. I would use the produce in the garden, and, since I was responsible for supplies, I would also share the produce with the hands! I would tell Tim (since he would apparently be the ranch owner, since I am the owner's wife) that it would be fine for him to go off on the cattle round-ups, and I would encourage him to get to know the hands better. I would try to do nice things for the hands sometimes, and not expect them to come to me and beg to kiss my feet in humble gratitude. Floors and windows would be scrubbed with regularity, so that no one had to complain that you couldn't see out the windows because of the fly specks (and smears). We'd wash those off. (Clear water with vinegar, gang.) I would support my husband in his decisions, and let him vent when he needed to without attempting to take it upon myself to solve the troubles (putting my vinson-ness aside). I would offer to help with the ledger, because my handwriting is a bit better than his (though he would have to do the adding). And I would keep my daughters and girl-of-all-work busy enough with these chores that they wouldn't have time to bellyache about the inequality of men and women. It's the 19th century here, girls, deal with it and thank God for those women who waged war for more equality for your 21st-century selves.

Perhaps if Mrs. Cooke had embraced the lifestyle for what it was -- 19th century -- and tried to take care of what needed done, the whole thing would have been more of a success.

 

It’s time for another television reality show PBS-style, which means, historical, informative, and all crammed into one week (British reality-style) rather than strung out over an entire season a la  Survivor USA. This time it’s Texas Ranch House, an opportunity for a handful of lucky participants to step back to the year 1867 and join a Texas ranch.

Unfortunately for any television viewers who watch anything else, in order to enjoy all of Texas Ranch House, you’ll need to clear your schedule for two hours every night this week, not watching anything else (set your Tivo if you dare), and by Friday, you’ll be so tired of the Cooke family and Texas longhorns, you’ll not even care if the cattle make it to the buyer and who ultimately goes on the drive after all. In British reality shows this makes sense because at least a portion of each show is live, and the shows sum up the past day’s events, but this is not the case with Ranch House. (I’d prefer to have it strung out a bit, maybe one hour a night for two weeks. I do hate to wait a whole week for the next installment of a show, so yes, please, give it to me, but gee whiz, kids, not ALL at once. My broadcast journalism professor referred to the “parsimony principle” as using [usually a syndicated program] as much as possible – in order to make more money –  but as sparingly as possible – so as not to create overkill. Do the math here, PBS – 10 hours of anything on TV in one week is overkill. Thanks.)

 

But on with my commentary on the show. Thanks to one of the daughters of the “ranch family” for wearing her corset most of the time. Really. There are a lot of areas here where you and your sisters and mother are not holding your end of the appropriate-dress bargain, but at least you’ve got the corset on when you’re in the confessional.

Hurrah for the self-proclaimed computer nerd Jared for getting kidnapped by Indians and making interesting comments. Yippee for the horses and cows and super-cute dog and all that. But Mrs. Cooke, wife of the ranch owner, needs to be hit alongside the head with a heavy board. Congratulations, lady, for your eagerness to take on the sexism of our society, to bring equality to the ranch, except for one small thing: You’re supposed to be a nineteenth-century rancher’s wife!!! No ranch owner would let his wife make the demands you’re making. No rancher’s wife would take it upon herself to make the rules for the cowboys. Those cowboys would be gone to the next ranch so fast, leaving your ranch without a hand on deck. Thanks to her hands-on approach, her husband is less than a joke among his men; no one respects him because he is obviously being constantly instructed by his wife about what to do when. He gives the ranch hands and his foreman one answer (clearly the one he’d prefer), but when he goes back to the house, his wife whines and complains and he feels he has to give in to her as well.

I found it amusing the other night when he commented that he’s been running major corporations for years without this sort of trouble – perhaps it’s because his wife doesn’t butt in to his work “back home.”

Perhaps she has the hardest job to fit into. The guys, well, basically, get to be guys, carousing, drinking, working pretty stinking hard trying to find cattle. Hard work is hard work, no matter what year it is, and the job parameters and supplies (or lack thereof) pretty much keep the guys in a period-appropriate place. But apparently she doesn’t have enough to do to really keep her busy enough that she’s not concerned about everyone else’s business besides just her own.

Yes. I know. Cross-cultural experiences bring out our weaknesses and foibles, and being on TV for everyone to see them doesn’t help. But is she even trying to play the part of the 19^th-century woman? Is she encouraging her daughters and “girl of all work” to try to fit the roles set before them as 19^th-century women? Not even close.

A suspicious-looking car cruises through the deserted streets of downtown in the wee hours of the morning, sliding to a stop in an empty parking lot opposite the typical small-town businesses.

A shady character disembarks from the passenger seat, yet the car waits in the shadows, engine running, while the unknown person crosses the street toward the darkened doors of long-closed merchants. A robbery, perhaps? Something evil must be afoot.

Fortunately, Officer Friendly is at the ready, having seen the car coming to a stop in a place it shouldn't be at this hour. He has stopped his police cruiser in a place prominent enough to discourage all but the foulest of criminals, with his headlights shining into the eyes of the alert getaway driver.

The driver, fearing for freedom, makes his move, tires squealing as he pulls away from the curb, running red lights through the sleepy streets of downtown, exceeding the posted 25-mile-an-hour speed limit by at least 50 miles, trying to outrun his pursuer until Officer Friendly catches his prey in the Kroger parking lot. The shady character who was left behind, clearly up to no good downtown, has, in the meantime, been apprehended in the act of some terrible crime, and the getaway driver has also been captured.

Another wretched crime foiled by our town's finest.

That's not exactly how it happened. It was more like 10:00 p.m., and the suspicious car was a gas-electric hybrid Civic, which pulled up in front of friend Ericka's apartment to drop her off. Officer Friendly did indeed pull into the neighboring Subway parking lot, headlights shining into my eyes, waiting until I pulled away from the curb.

Ericka safely within her front door (I always feel it's polite to make sure she at least gets inside before driving off, though I doubt anyone would have the temerity to attempt some sort of mischief on her), I pulled away from the curb (signalling my intentions, naturally). Officer Friendly followed me. Left turn at the first stop light, officer behind me. Straight through three lights in downtown (all green for me as I cruised a mile or so below the posted limit), a stop at the light across the bridge with the officer still behind me. Once across 19, he did turn into the Kroger parking lot and gave up chasing me for another day.

Really. Nobody move until I find out which one of you stole my work ID badge.

It was Mom. Or Mark. Or the two of you in concert.

It's been gone for two weeks now. The last time I had it, I stuck it in my pocket, saying "I'm going to need this tonight." (I would be going to sewing later and would, indeed, need it to get into the building.)

By the time I got to sewing, it was gone.

Some of us *might* have gone to a local restaurant before sewing. I checked there. Really. The very next morning, I called and asked. They hadn't seen it, but assured me they'd keep an eye out for it. I even looped through the parking lot and checked by the parking space I'd used the night before. No tag on the ground.

Last week I made the trip over to work to do something -- now I can't even remember what -- but mostly with the purpose of heading upstairs to have a new badge made -- at a cost to me of FIVE (5) DOLLARS. However, the new lady who does it now that the amazing Kelly is working maintenance was ill that day, and the other person who could also do it was also not in. So I didn't get it.

That means (aside from not getting into the building without calling the front desk) that I can't go free to my friendly local museums until I replace it. I can't plan a Children's Museum trip with Andrea and the girls and Mark until I get my ID badge. I can't run off for a freezing zoo trip. I can't see the LORD OF THE RINGS exhibit at the Indiana State Museum (http://www.in.gov/ism/MuseumExhibits/lotr.asp), at least not for a museum-employee courtesy price. I determined I *would* get back and get a new badge.

This morning I got a phone call. It was one of the people roughly in my department. Mr. So-and-so (of facilities fame) came by and dropped off my ID badge with her (possibly because she was the only person "in charge" around at the time in our department). He'd been at said restaurant that evening (the same evening as I had been, 2 weeks ago) apparently wearing his museum-logo duds. An employee, finding my badge, had given it to him to return to me. I'm sure he or she thought it would happen in a more timely manner.

But you can all move again. The lost is found.

The baby made his debut as a historical interpreter yesterday for our annual Country Fair as an 1886 baby (Mark Stone) out with his mommy Alice for the Agricultural Improvement Society Fair and received rave reviews both yesterday and when he returned today in the glorious sunshine (instead of the chill of Friday).

He talked to the guests. He played with the children. He ran off with his Auntie Laura and had a high time, even finding a wonderful stick to play with for a while. He talked to the chickens. (Auntie Laura swears he said "Bawk" back to the chickens when they clucked at him, which is a possibility. Twice.) He LOVED the music of Saxton's Cornet Band as they played Civil War music on their period-appropriate instruments, and bounced, tapped and clapped along to the music.

And did I mention he was CUTE?

We're on a trip out to visit the boy's grandparents, and thought that while we were in a certain idyllic state, we would stop off at a museum where a friend from my own museum is now employed.

We arrived at Fleabag Farms at 3 p.m. and were informed that the last tractor had just left to take happy visitors out to the 1700 site, the first stop on your planned tour of the farm. We didn't really care to get to the 1700 site, but only to the 1875 site, where the friend works, presumably in the Millinary shop. "I'm sorry. The last tractor just left. The only thing I could let you do is go out to the 1900 area." She then went on to describe the plan for travel, taking the tractor-carts to the 1700 site and then working forward in time to the 1900 site last before coming in to the gift shop.

"Is there any way to get a message to her?" I asked, recalling her mention of calling out to inform them the last tractor had left.

"We're a working farm. They didn't have these" she held up the phone-slash-radio "back in 1850." The snottiness factor was rising.

"Is there a place where the employees usually park, so I could leave a message on her car?"

"You can't get there. It's down a long private road. This is private property. We have over 500 acres."

Gee, thanks. I couldn't figure that out.

"We are a working farm, you know."

Yes, I know.

I called friend Ericka back at our own Fleabag Farm. "You can see the shop from the window of the gift shop!" she exclaimed.

"That's not what the lady at the desk told me. She said that was the 1900 site."

"Well, that's stupid." (I concur.)

We sat around outside, not willing to pay the $19 to get in just to see the 1900 site. (I got a professional courtesy of $1 off the admission price, and just to see one area.) Mark happily played in the grass, a breeze blew, and all was, well, less that perfect. Finally, at 4:30, we decided to re-enter the museum building to enjoy the air conditioning. Tim wanted just to go out the doors to the grounds, as we had concluded that no, the area kind ticket lady was sending us to was not 1900 but was indeed the 1875 town we wanted to see Merrilee in. However, I didn't have the guts to be such a scofflaw. I went instead to the gift shop.

"Where do most of the employees in the town park their cars?" I asked the Nice Gift Shop Ladies.

"Just along that fence," one said, pointing to the side of the shop and the nearby parking lot. "Either there, or at the maintenance building."

"Ok, thanks. We had wanted to see a good friend of mine from the museum where I worked, but we weren't allowed to go there because the last tractor had just left."

"Where does she work?"

"The Millinary shop."

"Oh, just go on back," Nice Museum Shop Lady said. "Go through the doors behind the ticket desk. There's no one there now."

She gestured us on, and using the map we had pilfered, we trotted off to the Millinary Shop, which we could see from the window of the gift shop, just as Ericka had suggested. Merrillee wasn't there, but instead was at the General Store, where we headed next.

The surprise on her face and her speechlessness were worth it as we stepped through the screen door. All was well in the world and Mark was cuddling with his Auntie Mer, playing with her buttons.

Perhaps sometime we'll get to Fleabag Farm early enough to take the tractor out to the 1700 site. But not if that sorely uninformed woman is working at the desk. She might send us to Minneapolis instead.

Should I bother with words? Probably not.

There it is, 9 yards of striped silk taffeta and 3 of the solid, 5 yards of fringe, a yard of beads and two of braid. And new shoes to boot. (heh heh.)

Compliments will be accepted at this website. :)