As we all know, I’ve been absent for, oh, the length of an entire pregnancy. I won’t go into details as there’s nothing more boring than a blog post apologizing for not posting more blog posts. I will say this: I’m now on maternity leave (yet without the appearance of a baby) so theoretically I have all the time in the world to return to my lovely pet project: Daily Beeswax. (btw: maternity leave sans baby is magic)
So, hi. How are ya? I’m great, thank you very much. My due date is four days away. Holy Baby Out My Hoo-Ha! That’s soon.
A man I was sharing an elevator with yesterday turned to me with a shake of his head and said, “Doesn’t look like you’ll be getting that tax deduction this year.”
“Well, sir, I’ve had a lengthy conversation with my daughter about the ins and outs of labor. She’s agreed that staying small is in both of our interests, so though it may not look it – I’m due on Monday.”
Fine. I didn’t actually say that. But had I cat-like mental reflexes, I would have. As it were, I’m massively pregnant and can’t get through my day without at least two to-do lists. I’m pretty sure I just grunted at the man in the elevator.
{Sidebar: if a lady looks like she’s about to pop and she gives you a coherent answer to a question – thank her. Sincerely. The thick cloud around her head is a tough bitch to break}
So where do I go from here? Crafting? Sewing projects? Holiday decor ideas? We’ll see what I can squeeze into the time I have. Little Baby Engstrom is boring down a little further every day (I imagine her with an itty bitty pick axe, chipping away at my lady-bits) and no one but the little burrower knows when D-Day is.
Until then, you can bet your ass that my to-do list mentions Daily Beeswax.
Whether or not I will remember what that means is a whole other thing…
{Yes, I own that gold lame jacket. No, you cannot have it – but you can have this fancy adult gold lame bib for just $16.95. Yeowza!}
I’m last minute planning my baby shower – I mean super, duper last minute. The shower is in a week and a half and I just started looking at craft/design/color schemes tonight.
Blast!
Shower planning stress aside, I wanted to up this really cute image I found on Pinterest tonight (psst – you can follow me on Pinterest here). What interests me is not the blanket, though it is lovely and wonderfully illustrated in a step by step here. What caught my eye was the framed tree in the background. It’s not something I’d want to do at the shower – but something I want to do as a family project.
Here’s the plan, as imagined two minutes ago: I will draw up a list of family members, complete with addresses. I will draw/paint the trunk of the tree onto a paper. I’ll buy ink in colors that have been approved (control freak alert). I’ll send the paper and inks with instructions to the first person on the list. These instructions will ask the family member to add their thumb print using the ink provided, then send the package to the next person on the list.
It will be sort of like a baby gift/family tree chain letter, but without the threat of bad luck should the chain be broken. I won’t need that. Baby Lillan’s disappointment should be enough.
Yes, I approve of this message.
The man that raised my husband’s grandfather was known as the Old Flyer Man. In old Sweden, when a man was in the military they were given a plot of land to work. That plot came with a name. His meant Flyer, hence the name he took.
Old Flyer Man was a bit of a ladies man. He took two wives over the course of his life and by his 74th year was in the market for a third, a reputedly severe looking lady named Beata. He asked his children’s permission to do this and had been turned down. Two prior wives for the Old Flyer Man had been deemed quite enough.
In an attempt to persuade his children, Old Flyer wrote a rhymed poem. As he was obviously writing in Swedish, the below translation won’t rhyme but I thought a mention of the introductory lines was enough to capture the gusto he put toward the cause.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to marry the lady to had helped him let some blood from his legs (as was the custom to induce good health in those times)? Add to that a good cake baker, and you’re looking at one special lady, indeed.
Rhymed Letter
I hereby want to put a plug in Satan’s mouth
I shall not disavow my Beata
Who has kindly answered my Letter
And cured the damage in my shoulder
And also let the blood from my legs
She shall also become my third wife
In a month and some days
That shall the priest set forth and she will also say Yes
If God lets us live till 1932
Beata will also bake a cake on my 75th birthday
And all who taste thereof
Will say that Beata baked well
Sadly, the poem did not sway his children, who forbade him to marry the (third) lady of his dreams. A nagging suspicion remains in the family that the love-birds lived together anyway.
It’s about that time in my life that a one bedroom apartment sounds tight. With a baby on the way and aspirations to do amazing creative work, I am lusting after a space to spread out. I came across this image in an old Swedish publication recently and was inspired.
What will it take to get myself one of these lovely, messy studio spaces? What would I fill it with? Could I let it go like this, mess wise, or am I too much of an anal freak?
My mother in-law has two studios. Jealous. One is in the garage, which is connected to their main house. The other is a separate building in the backyard. The garage houses all her ceramic materials. The other (seen behind Pillan, the family dog in the photo below) houses her kiln and carpet weaving supplies.
Perhaps by stepping away from the city into something with more space, followed by some light psychological counseling for my cleaning habits, I too can have a wonderfully messy studio.
A few more images from the little design book I found at M’s parent’s house…
I’m thinking some of these would make for great applique on little baby clothes. Just sayin’
{click here for Part 1 of these images}
