Well, that's how it's supposed to work. The problem is, the springs are so stiff and strong that my squirrels don't weigh enough to activate the squirrel-proof function. Maybe if they steal enough seeds, they will gain weight, and then. . .
Friday, May 8, 2009
A slight design flaw
I bought this bird feeder to replace one that had been chewed apart by the squirrels. It is a supposedly squirrel-proof model. The outer cage is atttached by two springs and "floats" over the inner tube. The cage has metal leaf shapes and it can be pushed down by extending the springs until the openings are covered by the leaves. If a lightweight bird lands on the perches, nothing happens, but if a heavier squirrel hangs on the outer cage, its weight is supposed to stretch the springs and pull the cage down to block access to the seeds. 
Well, that's how it's supposed to work. The problem is, the springs are so stiff and strong that my squirrels don't weigh enough to activate the squirrel-proof function. Maybe if they steal enough seeds, they will gain weight, and then. . .
Well, that's how it's supposed to work. The problem is, the springs are so stiff and strong that my squirrels don't weigh enough to activate the squirrel-proof function. Maybe if they steal enough seeds, they will gain weight, and then. . .
EQ part 2
Here's another one: Like the first, the fabrics aren't the actual ones, and the colors aren't exactly right, but it gives you an idea what the quilt will look like. The prints will be toiles from the Michael Miller "Kid Toile"line, with this one for the large print: 
Ooh, the color's a little off there, but the background is sage and the toile is chocolate and cream. The borders will be a sage/chocolate check, the background of the blocks a cream/chocolate open toile, and the points of the stars a brown marble and a sage/cream dot.I bought that toile a while ago because I fell in love with it but couldn't figure out what to do with it. I saw a few designs that set me in this direction, and now it has a purpose and will work out quite well. I know you all do this too: buy a fabric because you HAVE to have it, but then it sits there on the shelf, mocking you, because it won't fit in any designs. Well, if you don't do it you're a better person than I.
I can see right now that EQ6 is going to be very dangerous. I can already think of ten times more quilts than I have time to sew, but now I can draw them, in color no less, and taunt myself with them.
Woo Hoo, it's EQ!
OK, I'm embarrassed. I got EQ6 for Christmas, but with all the gift quilt sewing, wedding attending, doctor's appointments, etc. that was going on, I never loaded it on the computer. Until yesterday. And once I got past the Vista crankiness, it went well.
Now comes the learning curve. You see, I had Electric Quilt back in, oh, 1989, when it was still DOS based. I used it some, but it had quirks and was not easy to use without a mouse, so I just let it slide when we upgraded computers and never thought about it again.
Last Christmas, while casting around for gift ideas to fulfill my husband's requested "What I would like" list, I thought about the new EQ and that maybe it would be good for auditioning ideas. (I was using the draw function on Word, which is surprisingly effective, but not optimal.)
So, I asked, he bought, and it went on my desk to be installed. Then life intervened. So, yesterday I looked at the box (again) and said "Let's get this thing on the computer while the laundry is being done."
To put it mildly, it's improved. I made up a few designs without ever looking at the manual. I wouldn't call it intuitive, but once you wrap your brain around its world-view (which, I admit, is hard if you've been using drafting or other drawing programs, because it doesn't work AT ALL like those) you can whip out stuff in the blink of an eye.
Take this little example:
This is the "Raspberry Truffle" pattern from the May/June issue of Quiltmaker. Now, they made it in pink and brown, but I've made enough pink and brown quilts for a lifetime and I wanted to see what it would look like in another colorway. They also made a variation in the French Farmhouse line by Renee Nanneman for Andover Fabrics. It was love at first sight.
Cool, huh?
I'm going to call it "Blueberry Pie with a Lime Twist".
That little mock-up only took me about an hour, and that includes poking the wrong buttons and fussing.
I'm going to enjoy this. (But I gotta read the manual.)
Now comes the learning curve. You see, I had Electric Quilt back in, oh, 1989, when it was still DOS based. I used it some, but it had quirks and was not easy to use without a mouse, so I just let it slide when we upgraded computers and never thought about it again.
Last Christmas, while casting around for gift ideas to fulfill my husband's requested "What I would like" list, I thought about the new EQ and that maybe it would be good for auditioning ideas. (I was using the draw function on Word, which is surprisingly effective, but not optimal.)
So, I asked, he bought, and it went on my desk to be installed. Then life intervened. So, yesterday I looked at the box (again) and said "Let's get this thing on the computer while the laundry is being done."
To put it mildly, it's improved. I made up a few designs without ever looking at the manual. I wouldn't call it intuitive, but once you wrap your brain around its world-view (which, I admit, is hard if you've been using drafting or other drawing programs, because it doesn't work AT ALL like those) you can whip out stuff in the blink of an eye.
Take this little example:
This is the "Raspberry Truffle" pattern from the May/June issue of Quiltmaker. Now, they made it in pink and brown, but I've made enough pink and brown quilts for a lifetime and I wanted to see what it would look like in another colorway. They also made a variation in the French Farmhouse line by Renee Nanneman for Andover Fabrics. It was love at first sight.Cool, huh?
I'm going to call it "Blueberry Pie with a Lime Twist".
That little mock-up only took me about an hour, and that includes poking the wrong buttons and fussing.
I'm going to enjoy this. (But I gotta read the manual.)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Fighting the poison ivy
After the worst of the rain had stopped I took a walk around the yard and realized I had three poison ivy vines starting to infiltrate the landscaping. This is bad, very very bad.
I first found out I could catch poison ivy in the fifth grade, when my science class went on an insect collecting expedition in the hills behind the elementary school. My best friend Judy and I emerged from the woods with an impressive butterfly collection and an even more impressive poison ivy rash. We spent several weeks carrying a small bottle of calamine lotion everywhere we went, daubing pink blotches on the rash and trying not to scratch. The only consolidation was that we weren't the only ones.
I now have a pathological fear of poison ivy, oak, sumac and such. If any of these get a foothold on me they are not easily evicted. I have blessedly never developed a systemic case, but isolated patches are bad enough. Needless to say, whenever I see a vine starting on the property I get a) panicky and b) creative on how to uproot the thing without dire consequences to myself.
Today, I armed myself with long pants, a long sleeved shirt (and it was a HUMID morning - miserable), heavy socks and leather shoes, my old safety glasses from the plant with the side shields attached, a scarf tying up my hair, plastic gloves AND cotton gardening gloves. These were an old pair that were about to bite the dust anyway, so I was willing to sacrifice them to the gardening gods.
I gathered up my long-handled pointy cultivator and plastic bags. At each location I performed the following dance:
1. Open the plastic bag, roll the top slightly and lay it out open on the grass.
2. Carefully untangle the poison ivy vine with the cultivator and dig out as much of the roots as possible.
3. Using the pointy tip of the cultivator, gather up the vines and roots and deposit them in the plastic bag.
4. Still using the pointy tip, snag the edges of the bag closed and carry it impaled on the tool, as far from the body as possible, over to the garbage can. Deposit bag in garbage can.
5. Repeat at each location.
We have the kind of garbage mini-dumpsters which are emptied using a remote arm on the garbage truck, so this was the only way I could think to get rid of the stuff without endangering other people. I will need to wash out the garbage can Thursday with bleach.
After I was finished, I peeled off the cotton and plastic gloves as one, carefully not touching the outside surface of the gloves with bare skin, and deposited them in the trash can too. My nuclear industry dress-out training came in handy here - we are taught how to remove multiple layers of potentially contaminated coveralls, shoe covers and gloves without contacting any of the outer surfaces of the garments. Then I stood the end of the cultivator in a bucket containing a strong bleach solution, where it will sit for a couple of days before it is rinsed.
I am going to stick a bamboo garden stake at each location where the poison ivy was removed so I can monitor for recurrence. I know this has a real "Andromeda Strain" flavor to it, but I was being as careful as humanly possible. It must have worked - as my husband said, I would know by now if it didn't.
By the way, it's universally acknowleged on the internet that Zanfel is the best treatment for poison ivy. Pricey, but it works. I bought some the day before yesterday in case there was a breakdown in my process.
I first found out I could catch poison ivy in the fifth grade, when my science class went on an insect collecting expedition in the hills behind the elementary school. My best friend Judy and I emerged from the woods with an impressive butterfly collection and an even more impressive poison ivy rash. We spent several weeks carrying a small bottle of calamine lotion everywhere we went, daubing pink blotches on the rash and trying not to scratch. The only consolidation was that we weren't the only ones.
I now have a pathological fear of poison ivy, oak, sumac and such. If any of these get a foothold on me they are not easily evicted. I have blessedly never developed a systemic case, but isolated patches are bad enough. Needless to say, whenever I see a vine starting on the property I get a) panicky and b) creative on how to uproot the thing without dire consequences to myself.
Today, I armed myself with long pants, a long sleeved shirt (and it was a HUMID morning - miserable), heavy socks and leather shoes, my old safety glasses from the plant with the side shields attached, a scarf tying up my hair, plastic gloves AND cotton gardening gloves. These were an old pair that were about to bite the dust anyway, so I was willing to sacrifice them to the gardening gods.
I gathered up my long-handled pointy cultivator and plastic bags. At each location I performed the following dance:
1. Open the plastic bag, roll the top slightly and lay it out open on the grass.
2. Carefully untangle the poison ivy vine with the cultivator and dig out as much of the roots as possible.
3. Using the pointy tip of the cultivator, gather up the vines and roots and deposit them in the plastic bag.
4. Still using the pointy tip, snag the edges of the bag closed and carry it impaled on the tool, as far from the body as possible, over to the garbage can. Deposit bag in garbage can.
5. Repeat at each location.
We have the kind of garbage mini-dumpsters which are emptied using a remote arm on the garbage truck, so this was the only way I could think to get rid of the stuff without endangering other people. I will need to wash out the garbage can Thursday with bleach.
After I was finished, I peeled off the cotton and plastic gloves as one, carefully not touching the outside surface of the gloves with bare skin, and deposited them in the trash can too. My nuclear industry dress-out training came in handy here - we are taught how to remove multiple layers of potentially contaminated coveralls, shoe covers and gloves without contacting any of the outer surfaces of the garments. Then I stood the end of the cultivator in a bucket containing a strong bleach solution, where it will sit for a couple of days before it is rinsed.
I am going to stick a bamboo garden stake at each location where the poison ivy was removed so I can monitor for recurrence. I know this has a real "Andromeda Strain" flavor to it, but I was being as careful as humanly possible. It must have worked - as my husband said, I would know by now if it didn't.
By the way, it's universally acknowleged on the internet that Zanfel is the best treatment for poison ivy. Pricey, but it works. I bought some the day before yesterday in case there was a breakdown in my process.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Backyard garden or protected wetlands?
We've had nearly 4 inches of rain in the last three days alone. All my newly planted annuals are prostrate on the sodden ground - the angelonia look particularly beaten up. Maple seedlings are sprouting even as I type. The poison ivy I'm trying to eradicate under the nandina has doubled in size since Friday. The rain is off-and-on, but every time I step outside the house, even to get the newspaper, the downpour starts again. And my whole yard is one huge green sponge that goes glurp-glurp-glurp with each step.
Don't say that we need the rain. I know the southeast is in a drought, but enough, already.
Don't say that we need the rain. I know the southeast is in a drought, but enough, already.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
I love the Kentucky Derby
I admit it, I'm a sucker for the Derby. I'm a Kentucky girl, born, raised and educated there. I spent the first 24 years of my life in Kentucky, the last six of those in Lexington, the epicenter of the whole horse-crazy state. They may hold the race in Louisville, but they breed the horses, train them, buy and sell them, and generally go ga-ga over them in Lexington. Lexington is where you can find free copies of "The Blood-Horse", a racing industry weekly magazine, in the lobby of the Holiday Inn.
My six years in Lexington solidified a mania for the Derby fostered in childhood by the ritual of watching the Derby on television every year, madly rooting for your favorite. I may not be a horsewoman (heck, I think I've only ridden a horse twice in my life) but that's not a requirement to be completely, ridiculously sappy about the Kentucky Derby. Everything about the race brings a big ol' lump to my throat. The beautiful twin spires of the Downs, the elegant, high-strung horses, the traditions, the crazy crowd in the infield, the hats - oh, the hats!
(This lady tried to get the whole of the Downs on one chapeau. I'm betting she had a neck-ache all day.)
I still get teary-eyed when they sing "My Old Kentucky Home". It's a song that's fused into my bones. We sang it every school year at the Spring Song Festival. I will know the words to my dying day. And even though the crowd at Churchill Downs is a bit snarky and less than respectful during the rendition before the race, it gets me every time. You know the point when the University of Louisville band crescendos and the melody swells at "Weep no more, my lady"? Yep, that's me, snuffling over in the corner of the couch.
The finish this year reduced me to a wreck, watching in a nail-biting frenzy as jockey Calvin Borel slid Mine that Bird through impossibly narrow gaps by the rail and then accelerated on the stretch, leaving the other high-priced wanna-be's in the dust (or, rather, mud).
All the world loves an upset win by a longshot, and Borel and trainer Chip Woolley gave them one this year.
But, as much as the spectacle, and the sport, and the sheer raucous party, it's the tradition behind it all that's the real draw. They've been doing this for 135 years. There are minor changes every year, to be sure, personalities come and go, corporate sponsorships become ever more intrusive (anybody else think that putting "VISA"on the back of the track personnel's jackets is tacky in the extreme?) but you can bet that the first Saturday in May all of the racing industry is in Louisville, sipping on a julep. And anyone who is anyone will be with them. Along with about a million college students in the infield, acting absolutely insane.
And, as a University of Kentucky alumna, along with all those college kids in the infield I can categorically tell you that the Derby isn't on the first Saturday in May, it's on the last weekend before finals.
My six years in Lexington solidified a mania for the Derby fostered in childhood by the ritual of watching the Derby on television every year, madly rooting for your favorite. I may not be a horsewoman (heck, I think I've only ridden a horse twice in my life) but that's not a requirement to be completely, ridiculously sappy about the Kentucky Derby. Everything about the race brings a big ol' lump to my throat. The beautiful twin spires of the Downs, the elegant, high-strung horses, the traditions, the crazy crowd in the infield, the hats - oh, the hats!
(This lady tried to get the whole of the Downs on one chapeau. I'm betting she had a neck-ache all day.)I still get teary-eyed when they sing "My Old Kentucky Home". It's a song that's fused into my bones. We sang it every school year at the Spring Song Festival. I will know the words to my dying day. And even though the crowd at Churchill Downs is a bit snarky and less than respectful during the rendition before the race, it gets me every time. You know the point when the University of Louisville band crescendos and the melody swells at "Weep no more, my lady"? Yep, that's me, snuffling over in the corner of the couch.
The finish this year reduced me to a wreck, watching in a nail-biting frenzy as jockey Calvin Borel slid Mine that Bird through impossibly narrow gaps by the rail and then accelerated on the stretch, leaving the other high-priced wanna-be's in the dust (or, rather, mud).
All the world loves an upset win by a longshot, and Borel and trainer Chip Woolley gave them one this year.But, as much as the spectacle, and the sport, and the sheer raucous party, it's the tradition behind it all that's the real draw. They've been doing this for 135 years. There are minor changes every year, to be sure, personalities come and go, corporate sponsorships become ever more intrusive (anybody else think that putting "VISA"on the back of the track personnel's jackets is tacky in the extreme?) but you can bet that the first Saturday in May all of the racing industry is in Louisville, sipping on a julep. And anyone who is anyone will be with them. Along with about a million college students in the infield, acting absolutely insane.
And, as a University of Kentucky alumna, along with all those college kids in the infield I can categorically tell you that the Derby isn't on the first Saturday in May, it's on the last weekend before finals.
Double wedding ring quilt is delivered!
Finally, finally, the gift quilt made its way to its recipients. I got a call last night that it was delivered and signed for, and they loved it. What a relief!I asked them to make a photo of it for my records - since I was so scatterbrained that I didn't!
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