New Life as Bench for Salvaged Coffee Table

I have been keeping my eyes glued to the curb and garage sales in search of a coffee table I could transform into a bench for the tent for a long time. I want something that will mainly operate as a bench with a custom cushion (to be sewn later), but could easily do double duty as an art table or Japanese style seating table for casual eating for kids and game adults. Something sturdy and decent looking, but not too nice, so it still makes sense for the kids to paint on it & use it roughly as necessary.

Driving to school one day, I saw this inlayed wood table along the side of the road and felt it would do. I pulled over & popped her into the wagon. I quickly sanded it and not so quickly finished it. I used a couple of coats of Watco teak oil. I have yet to sew a cushion for it, although I acquired a piece of salvaged foam from the local upholstery shop. I've never sewn a big cushion with a zipper before & I'm a bit intimidated. But I know I will. Often the urge will whip down like a tidal wave of ambition dwarfing the fear and I find myself just pushing through the project and learning as I go.

Preserving Lemons

Our little lemon tree is full of beautiful ripe lemons right now. I took advantage of the harvest and made a batch of preserved salty lemons. I love this stuff. Again I used Hunter Angler Gardner Cook as a guide and added a cinnamon stick and a couple of cloves before I sealed it up to let it cure for three weeks.

The basic protocol is: wash & dry the lemons thoroughly (more emphasis on the wash). Slice the lemons in quarters, stopping before slicing all the way through. Put in a quart jar and mash down releasing the juice. Add just under a tablespoon of salt (I used Redmond's & yes, that is tablespoon not teaspoon) on top of each lemon. Repeat until you fill the jar. I added the juice of about two lemons to cover the preserves, but it's not necessary. I also took some time to remove the seeds this time, gently pulling open the lemons careful not to break the wedges off.

At a winter bake sale/fundraiser for my oldest son's school, I had a revelation that I should donate a few batches of preserved lemons and/or cultured vegetables. Although I'm not one to put aside an opportunity for baked goods gluttony (witness my weekend baking spree), I realized both these items would be great for the some of the foodie families at the school and offer a bit of diversity at the table.

My mind is flashing forward to the upcoming preschool Carnival in May. The preschool has some seriously talented bakers, both professional and amateur, and the bake sale table is not to be missed. Last year, one of the pros made an almond macaroon-esque cookie with a chocolate coconut milk ganache filling. I bought one to give me a bit of a sugar boost to fill my sails. As I sat down on the grass with loud bouncy houses all around and a dunk tank directly behind me, I took a bite. The creaminess of the ganache melted slowly in my mouth, the taste of a subtle rich almond met the chocolate and feel madly in love. Bouncy houses slipped away, overly tired kids teetering on cranky seemed silent. I returned to the bake sale and bought the entire box. I really truly hope she makes more. Note to self: begin campaign of fandom requesting those cookies.

Silent But Busy

Although these pages have been silent, Camp Ramshackle kept a steady buzz of activity. The small, the fantastic (for the young ones doing the creating), the mundane. This weekend, I dealt with a Halloween fairytale pumpkin. I bought it from my youngest son's preschool fundraiser with the intent of eventually baking it. Two weeks ago, I stuck the whole thing in the oven after cutting the top & removing the seeds for roasting.

I've never baked an entire pumpkin by shoving it in the oven like an uncarved jack-o-lantern before. Usually, I use smaller pumpkins and cut them in halves or smaller. But the method worked well although it took hours to cook. After it cooled, I pulled off the skin and stored it.

This weekend, I pureed the bejezus out of a mountain of pumpkin and scoured recipes.

I made a variation of Gluten-Free Pumpkin Pie Bread, which received a thumbs up rating from Eric and my oldest son. I am recuperating from a noxious cold that stole my taste buds, so I couldn't tell, although it baked beautifully. I used a conventional oven (the linked recipe is for a bread machine) and baked it for 55 minutes. All worked well. I will make again and again and again until the pumpkin supply runs out or everyone in the house screams "NO MORE".

And another loaf of the fantastic Flying Apron Bakery house bread. I was happy to see Jennifer Katzinger has a new cookbook. Evidently, it's been out since August, but I've been living under a rock since then. Two loaves of bread did nothing to my mountain of pumpkin puree (as expected), so I froze them in 1/3 cup measured scoops, since my favorite recipe with pumpkin (see above) uses 1/3 cup portions.

The delicious carrots keep growing.

As do my boys, both very interested in sculptures small...

...and large. Built quite spontaneously by my youngest son. I love his design and style. He has been building sculptures since he could move. Watching his work change as he grows older is such a treat. I make an effort to photograph them, although it is hard to keep up.

And I have been sewing shelters. This one is for a silent auction at my youngest son's preschool. Eric has been tackling some much-appreciated work around the house too. I plan to share some projects of home improvement in the upcoming days...not weeks.

Kid Goes Electric

My youngest has been hit with guitar fever. My greatest hope is this current obsession lasts. He's so careful with the guitar, awed by it really, and thrilled to turn it up and sample effects.

A Comfortable Window to Read By

The days and nights have been mild, even for a southern California winter. When the sun is shining and so much can be done in the garden, I remind myself that ten minutes inside by the window with a book, my own selection or one gently pushed into my hands by a four year old, is time well spent.

Double Dog Skunking

Photo by my four year old son

Morning plans slightly altered after Miss Trudy paraded into the house with a tell-tale stink lagging two seconds behind her darting body. I fished her out from under my bed, tethered her outside for a cleaning only to find Miss Moxie also played a part in the skunk debacle. In fact, she took more of the spray than Trudy did.

Skunk spray remedy applied (miraculous, really). Dogs de-skunked. The big upside is now we have two clean dogs. Dog wash was on my to do list but much lower. Not so bad to make it a priority.

Growing

Purple Cosmos

Encelia californica & lemons

Places I Will Not Likely Visit Again

Pig and Whistle, Hollywood

Hollywood Palladium

Eric and I ventured out last night to see Wilco at the Hollywood Palladium. We stopped by the Pig and Whistle for a quick bite and drinks before the show. The Pig and Whistle and the Palladium are not necessarily bad places. Both have a rich history. The P&W's past dates back to the 1920s when it was a haunt of Hollywood's elite like Clark Gable, Carol Lombard and Clara Bow to name a few. At one time, LA had two downtown P&Ws, the Hollywood landmark and one in Pasadena. Only the Hollywood location remains. The last time I was there, I remember it was so busy, I could barely walk across the room. Last night, it was practically deserted. Our meal was served to us by a quiet waiter whose pants were too short.

Eric and I both share a personal history of the Palladium of shows attended long before we knew each other and way before we had kids. Eric was at the legendary Black Flag show where the crowd broke down the doors. Sixteen year old Eric watch D Boon fly over the stage fronting the Minutemen. The floor was empty, only to be flooded the moment Black Flag stepped on stage.

Even then, I think I would choose a different venue to see a band than the Palladium. The sound was so-so and I couldn't see any of the chord changes by the infamous Wilco frontman. Really, how am I supposed to develop my rock and roll chops if I can't steal from the source? From here on out, it's the Wiltern or Troubadour. Sorry Palladium. Of course, I'll be back in a second if my kids form a band and play there. I'll just bring one of those canes with a foldable seat, so I can rest in between stage dives.

Give a Kid a Shredder

Or at least let the kid be the one to run the food processor and fun will be had. My youngest son and I spent some time on Friday shredding golden beets, red cabbage, carrots, celery, ginger, garlic and lemon for fermenting.

I am amazed how long my son will stay in the kitchen so long as a food processor is being used. Only two days have passed and the vegetables already give off the tangy smell of fermentation.

On Saturday, we logged more kitchen hours baking dark chocolate chip cookies as the rain came down and the fire burned all day in the fireplace. The weather report says a chance of rain tomorrow. We're prepared with firewood & more cookie dough if necessary.

Ramshackle Graffiti

My tagged trailer/studio. Is it wrong to imagine your seven year old with a tattoo that looks just like this?

Lazy Susan Gets Lazy Sometimes

Long before we moved here, another man and woman claimed this dwelling as their home for many years. He left behind a work bench with his first initial and surname stenciled in black on the front, a collection of common stones in jars labeled with papery masking tape that no longer adheres and a question mark as to who he was. Who she was. What kind of life they lived.

In the upkeep and repairs of our home, I often find traces of his touch. I suspect he was the hand behind the construction of this lazy susan cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. I imagine the lazy susan is at least fifty years old. Over time she occasionally gets lazy and stops turning. The circular shelf sinks a bit and rests on the frame rendering it motionless.

In the past, I've been able to tighten up the axis rod and raise the height of the lower shelf to solve the problem. This time, the upper beam that supports the axis broke. I rigged together to a carpentry fix only to find the problem of the fused shelf persisted.

Friend Phoenix is back from a trip to Ibiza and Germany. He helped rig up a solution to the lazy susan problem. Now that girl spins like a top.

Under the counter, with the susan in pieces, I found another relic from the former inhabitants who walked these floors: De Kuyper Creme de Cacao. Open and imbibe at your own risk.

Happy New Year 2012

2012 looks good already when you get to ring it in with your favorite summer time Alaska cousins/pals out visiting for the holidays. The Goodyear blimp flies over the home.

We meander to Pasadena where the not so Stealth Bomber flies over the Rose Parade route.

Tall beloved cousins lend a shoulder for a good view of the parade.

Floats abound, including a stellar representation from Ramshackle favorite the Los Angeles County Natural History Museum. I love a float that makes good use of brussel sprouts for T-Rex flanks and artichokes for the landscape. I was read to pluck and broil those puppies before they made the t.v. documented turn onto Colorado Boulevard.

And the Occupy movement even gets a blessing to follow behind the sanctified parade carrying their own stunning spider float made from garbage bags.

Welcome 2012! Happy new year!

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Enroute to his shack, Eric stumbled upon a fallen Yellow-rumped Warbler. In the space of minutes to travel to the house and back, this tiny carrion lay on the pathway. We examined the warm pliable body, the delicate intestines rudely exposed from a tear above the warbler's left leg.

Most likely a Cooper's Hawk swooped and punched this little bird. Ten minutes after taking these photos, Eric and I returned to an empty slab. Perhaps the hawk returned for her lunch. I will remember next time to look up and examine the trees to document these tiny tragedies.

Material Transformation: Quilts

I have wanted to make a quilt for most of my life. I remember as a young girl starting a quilting square. I had no access to a sewing machine, so the radial star with small blue flowers was completely hand sewn. The square sat. My aspirations grew. Although a quilt can be a simple process, the process intimidated me.

So I read about making a quilt. People who have done it. How to do it. And I studied quilts I saw. I pulled out materials I had on hand & placed them together to see how the patterns and colors would mix. I decided this Christmas, I will make my sons quilts. A simple quilt with large blocks of fabrics I had on hand.

And I thought and thought about it until December 21st hit. I jumped into action. The boys have a small bunk bed, so I sized the quilts to fit the bed without a lot of extra fabric that would hang down the side of a traditional bed. I cut multiple pieces in 15 inch widths. To size to the bed, one row would be nine inches in width. My fast approaching deadline quelled any over-thinking on the piecing (except for the decades of thought that went in to reaching my quilt making action potential). I made a diagram of how it would look and cut the pieces to length. To back the turn-quilts (no binding), I used mattress ticking and some chestnut drapery fabric I picked up at an impromptu yard sale in the Rite Aid parking lot down the street.

Making a quilt is like magic. You piece together fabrics & they magically transform into a blanket. I literally jumped up and down when I saw them together & giggled like a school girl who just had a disappeared coin pulled from her ear by a slight of hand illusionist.

The boys unfurled their quilts in thrilled delight.

Material at Hand

Transformation to follow.

Our Relationships with Trees

Standing.

And fallen.

A Gesture

The brown haired checker had already scanned half the contents of my grocery cart, including the champagne meant to be opened six days later, when I noticed my wallet was missing. To say wallet is a bit of a stretch. Coin purse might be more appropriate to describe the cloth stegosaurus-shaped zippered pouch. My real wallet had been stolen last year in sleepy Sierra Madre while I picked up my son from preschool. The blue ice of the shattered passenger window dusted the front seat where my purse rested not ten minutes prior. The stegosaurus pouch functioned as a wallet as I never bothered to acquire another one.

I informed Brian, his name tag read, of the situation. His eyes widened. I'm sure he's heard it all and more. I ran outside, searched my car, came back empty. Scrounging through my bag in hopes to find it hidden in the seams, I came up with a check to pay for my bubbly.

I retraced my steps. Back by the train station, scanning for an unlikely money pouch on the ground. Back in the bakery that sells delicious croissants. No, my dear, no wallet.

Back on the street. My chest starts to tighten, I accept that the zippered pouch containing money, driver's license, bank card and other magnetized plastic cards that grant access to money are gone. I call Eric and allow myself a brief cry. Then almost as quickly as the wave of dread crashed over me, I stood in the shallow calm eddies left in its wake. I thought of the Stoic diagram and realized the situation was beyond my control. I thought about the hands that would pick up the cloth stegosaurus and wished that the person who found it could really use it.

I set back for home to put away groceries and deal with the consequences of losing such a small pouch containing such complicated items. In my mind I run through the procedures: cancel bank & credit cards, set the wheels in motion for obtaining a new driver's license, make dinner.

Empty bellies take priority. As onions sizzle in a large pot, I notice a phone message. I listen, "Julia, my name's D.J. I think I have something you might be missing. You really need to call me back."

Yes, a kind woman named D.J. picked up my stegosaurus, found my business card inside and called me. Within the hour, I stood outside her dusty green door. "And here you are, Julia," D.J. said bright brown eyes taking me in, "I thought of you, looking at your picture."

I told her how I thought of the hands picking up my wallet and the blessing I sent to those hands. I didn't expect to get the wallet back. "I knew it was the right thing to do," she said. I reached into my wallet. I had an unusually large amount of money in it (for me) and gave her $80. She said, you don't have to do this. I know, I said, I want to do it. I also asked if maybe we might be able to meet up for a walk around the neighborhood sometime.

While We Were Out

Hello. All is well in Camp Ramshackle. I've been away from this space choosing sleep at the end of long full days instead of posting an update. School is on winter break. Love! We have been enjoying many cozy nights in front of the fire. Lots of firewood since the windstorm.

Holiday card outtakes by Eric.

I found it hard to pick a favorite.

Smiling all the way through in these full days.

The Blustery Day

Downed Sycamore in Sierra Vista Park, the same tree that hosted the Cooper's Hawk mobbing

Last Wednesday night, the winds stood on end and raced down the canyons, reared up over the flat lands and established their presence with authority. Trees were uprooted, homes were crushed, branches were torn from trees and power lines were downed.

Sierra Vista Park, Sierra Madre

Sierra Madre, corner of Mountain Trail & Sierra Madre Boulevard

We fared very well at Camp Ramshackle. Our olive trees and one Toyon took a beating and lost many large limbs but no trees were completely downed; none hit the house. Everyone is safe.

A limb came uncomfortably close to the boys's bed room. Outside our own bedroom window while transformers exploded with green flashes that light up the dusty sky, Eric and I watched a large branch sail like a witch on a broom towards our window. The branch flew closer and closer, then dropped suddenly as if hit by a cosmic taser inches from the glass.

We are in the process of cleaning up the aftermath, but all-in-all, we did very well in the face of gale winds. I hope you and your families are safe and well too.

Sewing: Nesting Baskets

I made a few nesting baskets for a school auction donation to hold our contribution of three 8 oz. jars of Ramshackle Solid honey and a beeswax votive candle. Two sets. We don't normally "sell" our honey. The auction for our son's preschool fundraiser seemed like a worthy exception.

The nesting basket pattern is from maya*made. I was inspired, as I often am, by SouleMama.