icey cold icepack

The sports doctor told me about this a while ago. I think it's just about the coolest thing ever: a fantastic slushy-consistency ice pack for bumps and bruises.

And now that it's summer, there are bound to be a few of those here and there.


I like this better than the ones available for sale because the slushy consistency lets it contour around an injury. And there are only two ingredients, one of which comes out of your faucet.

Large bag:

2 cups of rubbing alcohol and 6 cups of water in a one-gallon zip-lock bag. Freeze. This is great for knees, backs, and large injuries.

Small bag:

3/4 cup of rubbing alcohol and 2 cups of water in a one-quart zip-lock bag. This size is great for hands, elbows, and child-sized injuries.


A few hints:

Don't put a lot of pressure on the ice pack. After all, zip-lock bags are only so strong before they pop open! I double-bag ours, just to be sure. Also, it helps to push all the air out of the bag before you seal it.

Put a layer of fabric or a thin towel between the ice pack and your skin to prevent frostbite. I made this little pillowcase-style flannel cover for ours because I thought it would give the right amount of protection. Tsia is also a lot more interested in using an ice pack if it looks pretty.

Keep the ice pack on the painful area for about 20 minutes to reduce inflammation.

Store the ice pack in your freezer so it's ready for use anytime.

Happy summer!

Philly and thereabouts

It's a wonder that all of us living in the northeast U.S. aren't green and molding, with all the rain we've had lately. So much rain, in fact, that I wasn't able to take photos of the adorable town of Narberth, PA, where Cloth and Bobbin is located and where I taught a Birthday Party Dress workshop on Saturday.

The shop is almost directly across the street from the train station, which made our commute fantastically easy despite the deluge. I adore large cities and the many transportation alternatives they offer: Todd, Tsia and I took the Bolt bus from NYC to Philly, and then Septa (the commuter line) to Narberth. Nearly door-to-door service and we could nap, read, and relax the entire trip instead of watching the road. So inexpensive, too! You would be shocked.

Anyway, no photos of the store or the class, I'm afraid. But eight adorable Birthday Party dresses will soon be finished, and we all had a good time making them.


I did managed to photograph this little surprise, which Johanna specially ordered from Whipped Bakeshop for the class. Isn't it stunning? And let me tell you, it was delicious, too. Tsia was excited to eat her own head. Please tell me that's normal.

I have just one photo of Philly for you, taken out of pure joy that the rain had stopped (momentarily, I assure you) once we emerged from our train on our way to the hotel.


And for some reason I focused on signs during this trip. Here are a few favorites:





After a few hours at the Philly Art Museum on Sunday (No, we didn't do the Rocky thing on the front steps, sorry), it was time to head home again. Thanks for a fun visit, Johanna and friends!

botanical dreams

I'll probably never have a garden (at least not in Manhattan) and I'm not good about purchasing cut flowers. Honestly, I can't stand it when they die.

So for now I get my botanical kicks from the windows of the amazing florists in our neighborhood. Most of these photos were taken with our pocket camera, so the quality isn't great. But they'll give you a sense of the talented eyes of our local florists.

These photos are from VSF, a florist Tsia and I pass on Sundays:





I pass by my other favorite florist on the way from Tsia's preschool to the studio most mornings. Their space is amazing but probably impossible for me to properly photograph. (Hence the lack of photo here.) Plus, it's a rather conceptual storefront; there aren't actually many flowers in sight. Mostly, I think this is because their business involves large events like weddings and parties rather than filling individual phone orders from folks like me.

The watchcat and flowers below are neighbors of Tinsel Trading in midtown. I thought the outdoor galvanized buckets felt rather Parisian and more trusting than your typical New Yorker:



Trouble is, when I order flowers for my Grandma who lives in a city in the Midwest, I always seem to have arrangements from these florists in the back of my mind. I describe them to the best of my abililies, even going so far as to research the various flowers so I can call them by name. I use words like "haphazard," "random," and "wild" to describe the arrangments. I strictly forbid the use of particular elements that feel too common or "flowery" to me.

But my artfully envisioned ranunculus never live up to the aesthetic heights of my dreams, or to what I see in those windows.

I'll keep sending flowers, but I think I need to put my botanical dreams to rest and restrict my artful floral visions to enjoying what I see in the windows.

real simple

I've been thinking a lot about simple living lately.


Many of us today are attracted to the idea of a simple life, aren't we? The idea of living life more slowly and contemplatively, stopping to enjoy each day and having more time with our families and our hobbies. A number of glossy books and magazines have recently been published, catering specifically to this topic. And it has a genuine appeal on many levels, especially from the standpoint of our busy, hectic lives.

There is nothing I'd like more than to spend an week, or even just an afternoon, sitting on a porch swing and reading books to my daughter. Or lazing at the seashore.

Unfortunately, at this point in my life that slow approach to life isn't realistic. I might be able to sneak an afternoon or a couple of hours every once in a while, but running a business is hard work. There is very little time in my life for relaxation. Or even grocery shopping and laundry, at this point. And I'm sure I'm not alone in this regard. At least I can rearrange my schedule when a conflict arises, but many working parents don't have that flexibility in their schedules.

Often when we talk about simplifying, we reminisce about the good old days, back when life moved at a slower pace. But frankly, I'm not sure that long stretches of down-time are historically accurate. Our memories, or concepts of times past, deceive us.

I'm still a believer in a simpler, more contemplative life, and I'm still striving to achieve that dream of reflective time to sit back and appreciate. But I've been contemplating this simple ideal recently and finding that my understanding and expectations about simple are shifting. Let me explain.

Last summer I re-read Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books. I adored these books as a child, and re-reading them as an adult gave me a completely new appreciation for them. One aspect that especially struck me this time around was the incredible amount of work that was required for survival. Look at Almanzo Wilder's family in Farmer Boy. The Wilders were a successful farming family, and the book focuses on the work involved in running a farm. The Wilder family never stopped.

The physical labor of the men and boys was obviously incredibly demanding. And did you notice the work the women were doing alongside the men? Three massive meals were cooked every day, and included in those meals were homemade bread, pies, and all sorts of baked goods. Sometime on the side, preserves were made and doughnuts were fried. The amount of time and labor involved in just the feeding of this family simply astounds me.

The book also discusses the yarns that Almanzo's mother spun, the fabric she wove from the yarn, the clothing she constructed from the fabric. She wove summer hats for the entire family, all from materials grown on the farm. When did that woman sleep?

So perhaps this will be a bit controversial. But aren't we already less busy in many ways today? I don't spend as much time cooking or cleaning as the Wilders--far too little, I fear--thank goodness our apartment is small and easy to clean, although I make up for that by working hard at other things. And I think that my life already is simpler than it was for Almanzo's mother. I can come home at the end of most days, spend a little time with the kiddo and my husband, and at the end of the night have a few minutes to read before I go to sleep.

I guess what I'm saying is this: I think simplifying our lives today shouldn't necessarily mean doing less work. We shouldn't be mis-led into thinking that we need to relax more and that somehow not working equates to a simpler life. I think a simple life is realistically still very busy and full of work. It just means that we're consciously watching less (or no) T.V., buying fewer things, and focusing on each other while working together as a family to accomplish daily tasks.

I probably won't get a chance to finish the two quilts in my project bin for quite a long time, and I certainly won't be taking on any new large-scale projects for a while. But I can still eke out a little time for a small project with Tsia now and then, make a short trip to the playground or the library, or maybe even take a couple of days for vacation. I'll still be working very hard around those activities, but I'll also be trying to make my family a priority alongside that work.

That's my version of real simple.

drawn and painted

We're eagerly awaiting the fall pattern illustrations from Dan today. I approved sketches a couple of weeks ago and, as always, he did a terrific job. Still, it's always exciting to see the final painted versions. I'm consistently amazed at the detail he paints in such small scale.


Since it was a beautiful warm and sunny weekend, Tsia and I found a nice grassy place under a tree today and parked ourselves for a little magazine reading. We were pleasantly surprised to see more of Dan's work in the two issues of High Five she happened to be reading.


Sadly, he wasn't so well represented in my old copy of Vogue. Maybe I'll switch my reading selection, after all.