Yeah. I'm alive. My poor blog, which has been going strong for so long, has been criminally neglected. I'm so focused on my Author stuff, and Feffie's Cottage, I tend to forget that I have this wonderful place where so much of my life and experiences have been shared for so long. (Feffie's Cottage INSTA and Feffie's Cottage ETSY)
My readers have followed me from my infertility through my unexpected pregnancy, to the birth of y beautiful son. Through the loss of 45 pounds (and the subsequent re-gaining of it). Through a tough stage in my marriage, where I experienced infidelity, to the ups and downs of my Regency life. My costuming posts are still my most popular.
I have not given up on the Hungarican Chick. I'm still here, Hungarican-chicking around.
So let's catch up.
I don't have chickens anymore. They brought rats. So that was not okay. Although there was a great plus side to having chickens and that was my rooster, who crowed at all hours of the night, and that in turn affected the ratings of the vacation rental next door, so there was that. But I miss my kippies and their fresh eggs. A lot.
Six years old. Taking his first ski lessons
at Timberline Lodge. Stop growing,
little man.
Alex is now SIX YEARS OLD. Can you believe that? I can't. Every day, I look for the secret rewind button hidden on his little body somewhere, so I can have my baby back again. He's in Kindergarten, and he's using five dollar words--with their own unique pronunciations like: Lidderly, and Use-a-liss. And the best one was last week, he said they were learning the Peasant of Egpyts (the Pledge of Allegiance).
On Valentine's Day, my dog Simon was killed by one of the vacation renter's malamute. He was partially eviscerated and it was devastating.
Hubby is having the hardest time dealing with this loss. This was his dog through and through. We are puppy hunting. Turns out Jack Russell Terriers, particularly shorties, are pretty hard to find around Oregon.
Minatures-wise, progress is slow, but it is happening on my McKinley re-structure & remodel. I've been working on building my Feffie's Cottage business both on Facebook and on Etsy. Right now my big project is a 'Witchly/Wizardly Workshop Kit, which has a variety of elements, pictured below. The element in progress right now are tiny mortars and pestles, which I have been working on with my new miniature lathe. So here's a little pictorial of stuff:
So my little living room area is heading towards completion. This stage is before I put the flooring in.
Installing the flooring was fun.
One of the kit prototypes. I made it pretty quickly and pulled the upholstery too tight. That is real leather, something like .5oz weight, which was super-fine. I'll get it better next time. Gotta try it a few times to get it right.
I soldered this little rack to hang pots, pans, herbs, and cured meats from. Kitchen has been coming along slowly as well.
I made a little iron fence and gate for the front. Still another work in progress. I will be starting on the exterior pretty soon. As soon as I finish converting the victorian roof to the hip roof. I have the right tools now (a 4" table saw, yes, really.)
This is the .5" oz leather. A-frickin'-mazing. Look how prettily it tufts! I wish I hadn't cut it so small or pulle dit so tight, because look how adorable that is.
This is a tiny tub I made. At present it it still bottomless. This was after the first application of the patina chemical.
This is after several chemical applications.
A settee for the parlour.
Miss Huxley, giving it a test.
This is the 'stained glass' window for Miss Huxley's 'witching room'. It will replace the window that's in that room at present. I made this with #6 plastic from a take-out clamshell box and a few coloured sharpies. It shrank down nicely, but it did not shrink completely evenly. So it's not perfectly round. But oh well. It'll do.
The witching room in progress. I drew the rough placement of the new window. The other one will be boarded up and bricked over like it never existed. I made some built-ins for this room.
Experimenting with copper and solder. Just sold this on etsy. All the linens are hand-stitched.
Some of the Witchly Workshop Kit elements. Most of these are my personal ones for Miss Huxley's supplies. Jars of eyeballs are a witchly necessity.
A snapshot of what we've got so far. A skull in glass; a geode (real), some bones, a crystal wand, a magic book, an orbiculum (or crystal ball), a jar of eyeballs. There are already more things to be added to this image.
I had to add this image of the little chess set I got for the price of shipping alone ($2) from Wish. Too fecking cute. It's in the Huxley House library.
These are the additional books and the bottle of poison for the Witchly Kit. There's one more book that I haven't shown yet. Next... the Mortar and Pestle. I will only be selling 4 of these kits.
I'm still drawing, of course. But since I'm no longer working an office job, my Office Specials are a thing of the past. But the occasion comes of for me to draw. Inktober was fun. I did that.
These are my two favourite from this year.
This is a time-witch, stealing your time. She is inspired by my beloved friend Maryanne Piro, an artist from New England, who did witches and halloween like nobody else. I have not been able to reach her for the past couple of years, so I've been missing her.
My whale. I think he's cute. He needs to be remade in detail, I think.
I have not really been doing anything with the Oregon Regency Society for a long time. After having heard a lot of nasty things being said about me, I simply got tired of it. It wasn't fun anymore. So I passed the responsibility onto some people who had been critical of my efforts. I was asked recently to take it back, and honestly, I'm not sure I'm 100% ready for that workload again. I've been approaching it as baby steps, but even small amounts of effort seem daunting to me right now. I don't even feel compelled to sew, which is pretty telling.
I miss my girlfriends from this group tho. Like crazy. And have missed them. However, I've found a crew to hang with up here on the mountain, and they've been like an injection of life for me, and have helped keep me from diving into a terrible depression. We call ourselves the Mount Hood Coffee Coven because we can be found pretty reliably in the mornings at the local coffee house (Coffeehouse 26) cackling like a bunch of hens, playing ukulele and just generally loving being around one another on a given weekday morning. It's been a lifeline for me. And I love these women like my sisters.
This is our logo. Yes. We have a logo. And we have matching coffee cups. Because.
Yes, I'm still K-drama obsessed. I watch them rather regularly, probably not quite as avidly as I did last year, but they're still a big part of my life. I have found another favourite actor, his name is So Ji-Sub and he's fucking beautiful and I'm going to stalk him like the 48-year-old chubby mom that I am. Isn't he just noms?
This is So Ji-Sub. He is my next husband.
He is beautiful.
So that's my update. Let's hope it's not an 'annual' one. LOL. Here's a picture of a hedgehog mom carrying her little baby. Because hedgehogs. Please bring your attention to the baby's feet in particular. No reason except... look at the feets!
I am an atheist. I have pronounced this fact numerous times throughout the history of this blog, and I am a strong supporter of the idea of scientific process, evidence and the validity of the theory of evolution.
Every once in a while, I hear this come up:
:::DERRRP::: "Well... if we came from monkeys, how come there are still monkeys?"
All this phrase does is reveal with no small measure of embarrassment on the behalf of the speaker, that they are completely ignorant. It is the dumbest thing to say. They should be ashamed for being so willfully stupid.
So, I have created this primer that can somehow explain to these people in the simplest of terms, the concept of common ancestry. Although the reality of this is much more complex, and the trees branched much more than once, it hopefully can fire up those underused grey matter cells and maybe teach someone a little something.
Oh, and again a note to all: this blog is not a place for debate. It is my autocracy. Trolls will be deleted. Maybe you can pray for me to change my ways. See if that works. In the meantime, do not post divisive language here, I will delete it before a single person can read it. It will be a waste of your time. And trust me, all the ire and rage and threats of hellfire and damnation in the world isn't going to make me change my mind. Only evidence will. Enjoy.
My husband described to me the other day how someone had labeled the act of picking up a sleeping child and depositing them in bed as being 'teleported'. The person describing this was fondly reminiscing about falling asleep in one place and waking in another.
This teleporting has become a sweet routine for Alexander and I, for you see, the days of co-sleeping are done. I discovered that Alex sleeps more deeply without the disruption of larger bodies tossing and turning around him. It would wake him and set him to rooting for some comfort nursing.
A few weeks ago, we had a very busy Saturday, where we gave Alex very little chance to rest and nap. But come bedtime, he was keyed up and as bright-eyed and bushy tailed as could be. Both exhausted and unprepared to entertain him, my husband brought him into his own room to play out his energy in his crib.
To his surprise, Alex turned onto his side as soon as Dan put him in bed, blinked his eyes a few times, and promptly fell asleep. I had already passed out myself having had little sleep the night before. Dan came to bed. Next thing we know, it's six AM and Alex had slept the night through in his own bed.
I've remained determined since to continue the trend, and have put him in bed at 8 PM every night since. He wakes only once, always around 11:30ish, where his cries are more substantial than the brief winging of sleep cycle transition. I get him, carry him to bed, let him nurse himself back to sleep, and then put him back on his crib to sleep 'til morning.
This ritual is deeply wonderful. When I go to fetch him, he is clingy and drowsy, crying with impatience as I nestle in beside him to nurse. He nuzzles in and drinks deeply and soundly, his draws growing softer and fainter as he submits to sleep again. Then he rolls over onto his side, his back nested against me, and falls into a deep slumber.
I then slip out of bed and gently gather him up into my arms. There is truly nothing more precious than the warm, dangly limbed, neck nuzzlingness of a sleeping baby. I slide him into his bed, and he rolls onto his side or into the fetal position on his belly, and sleeps on.
I won't lie... I still wake up in blind panic because he isn't there. I still go in at 2:00 am to check on him. I still ask my husband as he is leaving at 4:30 am to look in on him too. But for the first time since early pregnancy... I am getting eight hour nights now and then. Interrupted, yes... But not like before.
Hood Strawberries made into baby food. Fresh and seasonal.
Summer is here. I am trying to take time to make up some crafty goods to fill a table for a fair held locally. The bookshop closing has brought back what remains of my consigned artwork, so I figured those framed prints, my unframed ones, some bookplates, jewelry if I have time, and dolls from my spoonflower fabric, and I can make a few bucks. Let's see what I can finish before August.
These cats are in progress. They will be clothed.
These sheep are for my sister. They will be sent to Pensacola for pelts.
Life goes on, as they say. I had a stellar weekend at Hood River with my ORS chums, sailing the tall ships and flouncing about in costume. Alex accompanied me as usual, and was spoiled by everyone. He has many adoring aunties.
I too was spoiled on my first Mother's Day, so I am resolved to do something special for Dan too. Baby J has begun calling his father 'Da'. We thought at first it was coincidence since he has been articulating in Babyese lately... But whenever Dan is out of sight, Alex twists around to find him and cries out 'Dadadadaaah!'. My husband is moved to tears every time. So it is for those who try and try for a child... When we get one, we are amazed and humbled by every thing they do.
Dan's granny, whose dementia is worsening daily, and who cannot keep track of who is alive or who isn't, who can't recognise everyone, still knows to ask how the baby is, even if she forgets that the person she is asking is her grandson. My own mother is still transformed as well.
We have taken to writing a journal for Alex to read later on. So we can properly show him how loved and wanted he is.
Other than that, things are generally the same. I have lost a good friend because I have realized that in our difference of age, we speak different languages. I don't stop loving people though, when things break down. So it is what it is. Life is about falling, getting back up, dusting off one's knees and marching on. I do not regret or hold bitterness about what was largely, a wonderful thing. No sense holding onto the crappy stuff. That drives people to drink... Or worse... To religion. LOL.
The digitalis/foxgloves have overtaken this year. The absence of trees and late rains most likely are the cause. there are hundreds. So beautiful.
Today was my first day of being a
Housewife/soon-to-be-stay-at-home-Mommy.
I’ve been at home for a while now dealing with the symptoms of a tough
pregnancy. Up until now, I’ve been doing a project from home for my job, which I
finished up on Friday. We weren’t sure when I’d be back. Even though my
symptoms are abating a bit, I’m only two months away from giving birth—and after
that, we would be faced with the challenges of figuring out daily for our baby. We weighed the expense of daycare, the
reduced expense of only one person commuting in the hybrid; and decided that it
would be a wash. The only additional
expense is the purchase of our own health insurance. My husband is making a little
more money, so we are going to wing it for a while. Until Baby J (that’s his
nickname now… he’s grown far beyond the bean that he was six months ago) is
older, and I can start exploring options.
Flower thinks the giant U-shaped pregnancy pillow was
purchased for her use alone.
In the meantime, I will probably focus on web-based income
like my online shop and artwork while I’m home, because if I don’t find some
sort of occupation, I’ll go insane. I’ll probably focus on nesting and
preparing for the arrival of the wiggle-worm until he’s born. These past weeks, I've been painting and
de-cluttering. His room isn’t even begun yet. There’s so much to do and time is
just ticking by.
My baby belly is growing. These past few weeks it seems to
be growing double-time. Baby J’s little kicks are increasing with strength
every day. Sometimes it actually hurts! But for me, after all this time of
trying and failing, of worrying that something can go wrong with this
completely impossible pregnancy; every squirm, every kick, ever punch is a
consolation to me and has been since I’ve been able to feel him moving around
from about 16 weeks. Yes it’s been a tough ride, but as a friend of mine once
said, the sicker you are, the better the chances are of the baby sticking
around. And stuck around, he has. From the tests so far, he is within
parameters weight and size-wise, his heart is healthily beating along, no cleft
palate, no heart problems—and he is very low risk for any disorders common for
babies born to women of ‘advanced age’. He’s got ten fingers and ten toes. So
we are hopeful for a happy, healthy little squawk-box sometime close to
Thanksgiving.
The view out of the back of the Timberline Lodge, Sunday morning. We
had just enjoyed breakfast at the lodge.
I also want to give a shout out to my new OB/GYN Dr. Jill Shaw. I cannot recommend her enough. For those of you in the Portland area, who want a real human being, who doesn't talk down to her patients, who laughs and is funny, a bit nutty in a good way, is patient, kind and nurturing, I really would like to tell you to look for Dr. Jill. She is hands-down the best OB I've ever had.
Piles of accumulated work... No more.
I miss my horse very much. He is still at my sister’s house.
I wish I could go riding! My friends talk about spending time with their horses
and I’m so jealous. I could use some ‘grooming therapy’. My sister has gone up to Seattle to study to
become a Yoga instructor. She’ll be there for the whole month, leaving my
portly horse in the care of her husband.
My sister has been working a lot on her art as well. She’s
really growing a great deal spiritually and artistically these past months, and
I’m really proud of her. I love her
artwork so much! My sister has always had an exceptional artistic eye. She is
what started me drawing, and next to her I’m still such an amateur. She could do pencil drawings that could
replicate anything to detail. She has always been marvelously talented.
However, I have to agree with my sister when she says that her pencil drawings,
homages to detail and accuracy, seemed to lack ‘soul’. Then my sister went to an oil painting
instructor, and an oil painting workshop last year, and was introduced to
producing art in broad strokes. She does most of her painting with a palette
knife and wide brushes—yet even removing all that detail she is so accustomed
to creating, she is producing pieces with tremendous depth and soul. It’s
astonishing.
Here is her art blog; and there are links to her Daily
Paintworks Gallery on her page. Check it out! I love her stuff. My other sister
has also been dabbling in oils and she will also have her blog and gallery up
as well. I’ve been helping them by building their blogs for them.
'A Monstrous Tea' - one of the images now at the gallery.
My creative muse has been coming back. It’s so weird. I hope
I’ll be drawing again soon. There is a
book store and art gallery (Wy’east Book Shoppe and Art Gallery) up here
where I live. I showed the owner some of my drawings. She asked that I frame a
few ands he’d take some to sell in her gallery. So I went to IKEA and got some
inexpensive frames, and framed pretty much one of each of my prints, and
brought them to her. She took them all. I was very excited. She said the pieces
were different than anything else she carried, and she also wants some
bookplates as well. This makes me so happy. :-)
"Oh girls!" One of my future prints and an old 'Office Special'
Anyhow, this is my update for today. Hopefully I’ll have
some ‘non-office-specials’ to offer soon. Maybe they won’t be so hastily made
now that I’m no longer in my office.
"Pests" - Another old Office Special and one of my
personal favourites
A hasty sketch & ink office-special. He needs to be
redone with greater care. Lord Fox.
I had a wonderful birthday; almost flawless—the first one I can think of that was so romantic and intimate. My co-workers took me to lunch as promised at my very favourite Sushi-joint (I love how fresh their food is and I’m addicted to their Florida roll), it’s SOOOooooo good. I pigged out; we shared a Florida roll, of which I had the lion’s share because I’m a savage—and I had the bento I love so much with sushi. The restaurant knows me pretty well, there was a time when I would eat there twice a week sometimes, and so when they found out it was my birthday, they played the birthday music and the whole restaurant broke into song while the server brought me a ball of green-tea ice-cream with a candle in it.
My coworkers were sweet and thoughtful. They treated, and we ate until we were so full we could barely breathe. Back at the office, they presented me with a balloon and some begonias, and a card and a badly sung rendition of Happy Birthday.
I then drove home after work to discover my husband waiting for me inside the back door holding a package. A little backstory here, everyone knows I love the American Duchess’s Pemberly shoes. I’ve wanted them from the moment she released the first design concepts, but since we are always in a financial pinch, there’s no way I could justify the expenditure, not to mention explain to a husband who has little to no patience for my expensive costuming hobby, why I reallyreallyreally want this shoes. So when the American Duchess posted an announcement of having some ‘imperfect’ shoes for sale, I thought, hey, maybe he’ll let me get at least imperfect ones for my birthday. I sent him a link, to which he did not respond, so I was pretty sure he probably rolled his eyes upon receiving it and promptly deleted the email.
So excited, I took them with me into the car to
admire them on the way to the restaurant.
To my surprise, when I came into the house, I saw in his hand a rather clumsily-wrapped box suspiciously sized similarly to a shoebox, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I smooched him and grabbed my present, excited to have something to open on my birthday (another rarity). I tore it open and it was still in the shipping box, but when I saw the shipper’s name on the tag I started squeeing like an idiot. I tore it open and pulled out the pemberlies, my eyes glistening with tears.
He then informed me that these were not the ‘imperfects’ but the ‘perfect’ shoes as he watched me turn them and examine them for flaws. More squees ensued, and in spite of being almost late for our dinner date, I insisted on clickety-clacking around the house in them like an idiot just to see how disgustingly comfortable they are. For anyone who knows how English Country Dance can take a toll on one’s feet because of the flats we wear, you would surely appreciate the comfort of these shoes. They’re AWESOME! I’m so excited. I just ordered leather paints for them.
Anyway, we went to my other favourite restaurant; the Rendezvous Grill, it’s a local place we go to for most of our special occasions, they have really great food and you can go in a pair of jeans and it’s okay. Dan walked right into the dining area instead of waiting for seating, and brought me to a table with a reserved plaque on it, and a vase of pink roses and pale yellow carnations. Apparently he’d stopped by the restaurant ahead of time to drop off the flowers so they would be on the table when I got there. Aw!
Yes, my cellphone camera is a joke.
It was a delicious dinner. And yes, I had my snails; don’t yuck my yum. Escargots have been a favourite of mine since I was very little. In fact, one of my favourite treats when I was little was whelk sea snails that were cooked in a super-peppery broth. You could only get them in certain spots, but they were SO good. We also ate periwinkles; they’d serve them to you in a paper cone, just like fries, and they were yummy as hell, if not challenging to wrench their tiny, coiled bodies from their shells using the pin or toothpick sold with the cooked critters. Don’t wrinkle your nose at that! I’m pretty sure wherever you live there’s something *I* would consider gross; but I’d try it before I said yay or nay, and I wouldn’t go: EWWWW! (There are some small exceptions; when it’s insects, eyeballs, testicles, or anything worm or grub-like, I’ll pass). It’s my way. It’s all about culture. Suck it up!
I topped my meal off with a piece of cake with chocolate, mascarpone and drizzles of Grand Marnier (why is that SO good with chocolate? It’s evil). Anyway, the whole evening was nice (save for one hiccup that was completely unnecessary but happened anyway; I merely shoved my grumpiness about it until the next day. Days like Wednesday was are so rare, I wasn’t going to let something smirch it for me) and I went home glowing with happiness. Best. Birthday. Ever.
Un p'tit morceau de gateau. :)
Birthdays are the only day that’s truly yours. Holidays are about family, weddings about everyone else BUT you, even if you think otherwise, but birthdays, that’s different. I used to think I was selfish to expect to feel welcome and special on the day that marks my birth, but I have come to realize there’s nothing selfish about that at all, and anyone should be able to spend their birthday in a way that makes them happy to be alive. It’s the whole point of celebrating it. There are always forces out there that willfully or unknowingly choose to do things to make you feel less than happy, which sucks. For me, that has unfortunately been the case more often than not—so when days like Wednesday happen, I hold onto them tightly. I do love my husband. But more so for his attention to the details that mattered so much, the expensive shoes I wanted badly but really did not need; the flowers on the table; his smile when I saw my gift.
Satan called but only to get my sister’s number. My eldest sister is out of the country so she didn’t call, and my brother and his family are too wrapped up in their own crisis to think of it. My middle sister, Helen called and sang me the ‘zoo’ version of the birthday song, which I punctuated with a couple of monkey ‘oohs’ when she finished singing. LOL. Satan felt bad and shoved some cash into my hand yesterday, ordering me to buy new riding jods because my old ones are falling off my butt. “Joo look layke a homeless woomahn,” she said.
She’s coming up tomorrow, I’m making mussels Belgian-style. I’m not sure about fries though. Maybe some baked ones, not sure. Then I’d like to focus on fixing and finishing up the bodice for my habit—which will require me to measure out and cut sleeves, which his always fun.
Oh, and I forgot--the fox drawing reminds me... Someone asked me recently if I knew what that screaming noise was in P&P '95 I think during an outdoor take looking at one of the great houses, maybe Pemberly, could be Netherfield, who knows... but the answer is a that is a red fox screaming. It's a haunting, skin-crawling sound that upon my visits to the UK as a child to see my two best friends, would scare the bejeezus out of me.
