Richela Fabian Morgan's Blog, page 15

Awl Choked Up

I lost my awl. She is gone forever. (Yes, my awl is a woman. What else would she be??)

The last time I used her was on Halloween to poke holes into some rather large pumpkins. It was a last ditch effort to save our jack-o-lanterns and it worked. For the first time since the kids could understand the meaning of the holiday (costumes, free candy, haunted houses, occasional tricks instead of treats, and jack-o-lanterns) we made some pretty darn good-looking jack-o-lanterns.

I must admit that past Halloween jack-o-lanterns have been fairly lame because I won't do any actual pumpkin carving. I'll draw the "old school" triangle eyes and nose with the badly spaced teeth, take a kitchen knife and hack away. And despite what is being advertised, I think the carving kits in the grocery stores are a waste of money. I never bought one despite the whiny complaints of two unhappy Morgan children. But this year I gave in. A week before Halloween the kids and I were grocery shopping and I spotted the corrugated display at the end of the aisle. The kids looked at me; I looked at them. Without saying a word I threw the kit in the shopping cart, causing Masana and Mack to dance around like idiots for the rest of our grocery expedition. (And for the rest of the week can I just admit that I was the favorite parent and I LIKED IT??)

But when we finally got around to using the kit, the word "frustration" would not be sufficient to describe how we all felt. The tools were plastic and the small poker tool broke after a few minutes. So I went into my tool box and got my trusty awl. After working magic on the pumpkins, I washed her and left her on the windowsill by the kitchen sink. I forgot about her until the next afternoon, and when I remembered to look...oh, no! Not there. I looked in the garbage and searched every cabinet, drawer, and basket in the kitchen. I looked in the dining room and all the cubbies. I took my work room apart and combed through all the jars and containers and boxes. I turned my house upside down. But I couldn't find her.

I've gone to the local hardware store to see if I could replace her, but the lovely (and mostly patient) staff could not find anything in the True Value catalog that met my requirements. Of course it's hard to replace something that I've grown to love and have a deep connection with. Of course it's a nearly impossible task to find a tool that has become an extension of my creative mind. But that darn catalog was thick and I was full of hope. And now I sit here, dejected and miserable and awl-less.

Oh, my pretty awl. Look at her! The rounded bottom of her smooth wooden handle, the sharpness of her thick metal pin---how I loved to hold her and know what she could do in my hands.

I am wearing black today, mourning my loss. And if you've ever lost a really important tool, you know how I feel.

Awl Choked Up

I lost my awl. She is gone forever. (Yes, my awl is a woman. What else would she be??)

The last time I used her was on Halloween to poke holes into some rather large pumpkins. It was a last ditch effort to save our jack-o-lanterns and it worked. For the first time since the kids could understand the meaning of the holiday (costumes, free candy, haunted houses, occasional tricks instead of treats, and jack-o-lanterns) we made some pretty darn good-looking jack-o-lanterns.

I must admit that past Halloween jack-o-lanterns have been fairly lame because I won't do any actual pumpkin carving. I'll draw the "old school" triangle eyes and nose with the badly spaced teeth, take a kitchen knife and hack away. And despite what is being advertised, I think the carving kits in the grocery stores are a waste of money. I never bought one despite the whiny complaints of two unhappy Morgan children. But this year I gave in. A week before Halloween the kids and I were grocery shopping and I spotted the corrugated display at the end of the aisle. The kids looked at me; I looked at them. Without saying a word I threw the kit in the shopping cart, causing Masana and Mack to dance around like idiots for the rest of our grocery expedition. (And for the rest of the week can I just admit that I was the favorite parent and I LIKED IT??)

But when we finally got around to using the kit, the word "frustration" would not be sufficient to describe how we all felt. The tools were plastic and the small poker tool broke after a few minutes. So I went into my tool box and got my trusty awl. After working magic on the pumpkins, I washed her and left her on the windowsill by the kitchen sink. I forgot about her until the next afternoon, and when I remembered to look...oh, no! Not there. I looked in the garbage and searched every cabinet, drawer, and basket in the kitchen. I looked in the dining room and all the cubbies. I took my work room apart and combed through all the jars and containers and boxes. I turned my house upside down. But I couldn't find her.

I've gone to the local hardware store to see if I could replace her, but the lovely (and mostly patient) staff could not find anything in the True Value catalog that met my requirements. Of course it's hard to replace something that I've grown to love and have a deep connection with. Of course it's a nearly impossible task to find a tool that has become an extension of my creative mind. But that darn catalog was thick and I was full of hope. And now I sit here, dejected and miserable and awl-less.

Oh, my pretty awl. Look at her! The rounded bottom of her smooth wooden handle, the sharpness of her thick metal pin---how I loved to hold her and know what she could do in my hands.

I am wearing black today, mourning my loss. And if you've ever lost a really important tool, you know how I feel.

A Fresh Take On a Failed Concept

For the last few months I've been making these letter cards from newspaper and dishwashing detergent boxes. I tried selling them as blank notecards at flea markets, but so far not one has sold. When given the opportunity to hold and examine one up close, a potential buyer would admire it and spew compliments that inflated my ego. But then the card would return to its spot on the display table and the "potential buyer" would turn into the "buyer that got away". (Aw.) Recently on a rainy afternoon, my kids were playing with the letter cards, spreading them out on the living room floor and arranging them into words like Scrabble tiles. I usually protest when they use my stuff as their playthings, but watching them inspired me. 


I made this for my friend Charise and I think it turned out well. 
I'll be participating in a few holiday craft fairs and flea markets between now and Christmas, so I'm hoping these letters can work their way into another more successful retail item. Hmm, maybe holiday banners?
Stay tuned...

A Fresh Take On a Failed Concept

For the last few months I've been making these letter cards from newspaper and dishwashing detergent boxes. I tried selling them as blank notecards at flea markets, but so far not one has sold. When given the opportunity to hold and examine one up close, a potential buyer would admire it and spew compliments that inflated my ego. But then the card would return to its spot on the display table and the "potential buyer" would turn into the "buyer that got away". (Aw.) Recently on a rainy afternoon, my kids were playing with the letter cards, spreading them out on the living room floor and arranging them into words like Scrabble tiles. I usually protest when they use my stuff as their playthings, but watching them inspired me. 


I made this for my friend Charise and I think it turned out well. 
I'll be participating in a few holiday craft fairs and flea markets between now and Christmas, so I'm hoping these letters can work their way into another more successful retail item. Hmm, maybe holiday banners?
Stay tuned...

An Etsy Treasury List

Cheers to my wine-o ways!

A little wallet of mine was included in an Etsy treasury list by Polyester10.

Thank goodness for wine in a box.

And a big thank you to Polyester10!

No More Corrugated Boxes, Mom!

I loved making Halloween costumes for my kids--- loved, as in past tense. My costume-making days have been declared over and done with. Masana and Mack have grown tired of my proclivity to use corrugated boxes as the primary costume material and have left me to twiddle my thumbs in the month of October.

Masana's epiphany about cardboard costumes came in kindergarten. In the picture to the right, she is Lady the magical train from Thomas and Friends. Masana discovered (at the tender age of 5) that homemade cardboard costumes were not as compelling as, let's say, a shiny store-bought princess outfit. She wore Lady the cardboard-costume-my-cheapo-mother-made with an embarrassed expression during the school parade and quickly took it off once she reached the safety of her classroom.

In the ensuing Halloweens, Masana has been a frog, a cat, and a tree---all costumes that did NOT involve a corrugated box. Sadly, she will not dress up this year because, according to her posse of 5th graders, she is "too old to go trick or treating." I don't know how any kid can pass up free candy, but Masana will not be carousing the streets this evening. And I guess I'll have to go with it.

Mack, on the other hand, envied Masana's Lady costume and couldn't wait until Halloween to employ my skills for his benefit. For his 4th birthday in the spring of 2007, he asked for a car race straight out of the movie Cars. I made sixteen (16!) car costumes. Each child took a car costume home as a party favor, which made Mack a little sad. He was hoping we would keep all sixteen (16!) cars in the backyard.

After that party, I was ready to make another locomotive. Trains? Been there. Cars? Done that.


[image error] A few months after his birthday, Mack asked me to make a tugboat costume for Halloween. I was ecstatic. A boat! How could I refuse?

Mack the Tugboat marched in his school parade. He marched in the village parade. He got interviewed by middle school kids writing a paper on Halloween costumes.

"Where did you get the idea to be a tugboat, kid?"

"Did you help your mom make your costume?"

"Is that thing heavy?"

"Can I try it on?"

Mack loved it.


The following year Mack wanted to be a rocket. So with a corrugated box, two empty paper towel rolls, foil, and two plastic bags we transformed him into "Weapons of MACK Destruction."

I think he simply wanted an excuse to run around like a maniac, but he loved that costume. It stayed in our play room for another year where his friends would admire it and even try it on for kicks.

Then came the year everyone wanted to be a vampire, and I couldn't make a vampire costume out of a corrugated box. And last year Mack wanted to be Brian Wilson of the San Francisco Giants. This year he's a football referee. I offered to make him a football stadium that he could wear over his referee outfit, but he declined.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

No More Corrugated Boxes, Mom!

I loved making Halloween costumes for my kids--- loved, as in past tense. My costume-making days have been declared over and done with. Masana and Mack have grown tired of my proclivity to use corrugated boxes as the primary costume material and have left me to twiddle my thumbs in the month of October.

Masana's epiphany about cardboard costumes came in kindergarten. In the picture to the right, she is Lady the magical train from Thomas and Friends. Masana discovered (at the tender age of 5) that homemade cardboard costumes were not as compelling as, let's say, a shiny store-bought princess outfit. She wore Lady the cardboard-costume-my-cheapo-mother-made with an embarrassed expression during the school parade and quickly took it off once she reached the safety of her classroom.

In the ensuing Halloweens, Masana has been a frog, a cat, and a tree---all costumes that did NOT involve a corrugated box. Sadly, she will not dress up this year because, according to her posse of 5th graders, she is "too old to go trick or treating." I don't know how any kid can pass up free candy, but Masana will not be carousing the streets this evening. And I guess I'll have to go with it.

Mack, on the other hand, envied Masana's Lady costume and couldn't wait until Halloween to employ my skills for his benefit. For his 4th birthday in the spring of 2007, he asked for a car race straight out of the movie Cars. I made sixteen (16!) car costumes. Each child took a car costume home as a party favor, which made Mack a little sad. He was hoping we would keep all sixteen (16!) cars in the backyard.

After that party, I was ready to make another locomotive. Trains? Been there. Cars? Done that.


[image error] A few months after his birthday, Mack asked me to make a tugboat costume for Halloween. I was ecstatic. A boat! How could I refuse?

Mack the Tugboat marched in his school parade. He marched in the village parade. He got interviewed by middle school kids writing a paper on Halloween costumes.

"Where did you get the idea to be a tugboat, kid?"

"Did you help your mom make your costume?"

"Is that thing heavy?"

"Can I try it on?"

Mack loved it.


The following year Mack wanted to be a rocket. So with a corrugated box, two empty paper towel rolls, foil, and two plastic bags we transformed him into "Weapons of MACK Destruction."

I think he simply wanted an excuse to run around like a maniac, but he loved that costume. It stayed in our play room for another year where his friends would admire it and even try it on for kicks.

Then came the year everyone wanted to be a vampire, and I couldn't make a vampire costume out of a corrugated box. And last year Mack wanted to be Brian Wilson of the San Francisco Giants. This year he's a football referee. I offered to make him a football stadium that he could wear over his referee outfit, but he declined.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

Dresses For My Girl

Masana expressing her discontent.Here's a little post about my girl.

A few weeks ago, I began searching for formal dresses that Masana could wear to her ballroom dance classes. (Yes, I said ballroom dance classes. "Dancing With The Stars," here we come!) I knew it would be a painful endeavor because she HATES dresses---or more accurately, she HATES the way she feels in a dress. Getting Masana to go shopping with me for a dress was never going to happen, so I went solo and just bought what I considered the least offending styles and colors. A few days before her first class, I laid the dresses down on Masana's bed and asked her to try on each one. After the longest hour in both our lives, Masana chose a black lace dress that didn't make her feel "weird." That night I popped open a bottle of Shiraz and toasted my small victory.

Masana is not some dress hating tomboy. She loves wearing pretty headbands, enjoys getting her nails painted, and is exhibiting signs of having celebrity boy crushes. But she developed an early negative body image a because some idiot "friend" of hers back in the third grade (why is it that mean girl behavior always starts in the third grade??) told her she was fat, that she had fat lips, and that her eyes looked funny---all in one breath. It was expressed with that rhetorical questioning that only lawyers and mean girls seem to have down pat. The only difference is that a mean girl will fire her ammunition in that sing-song playful tone and through a smile so tight that the seams of her face might rip.

This all transpired within the confines of my home, so I guess I was lucky to cut the verbal abuse short. But it took all of my newly acquired suburban prissiness to hold back my inner Brooklyn girl and not throw down right there in our play room. I heard this child say these awful things and I went completely red inside. Yeah, and I didn't want to be on "Dateline NBC" for being the mom-who-got-sent-to-jail-for-threatening-her-kid's-frenemy, so I ordered Masana out of the room and called the girl's sitter for an early pick-up.


Last Friday was her first ballroom class and I struggled mightily with Masana to put on her dress and white gloves. While waiting for her carpool to show up, she hid behind the bushes in our front yard and complained bitterly about everything wrong in her life. I topped this list, of course. But then her ride showed up and all the girls in the car got out. The goofball of the group started doing a mime act with her white gloved hands and Masana laughed. She popped out from behind the bushes and all the girls started talking at once. After striking poses for the camera, the girls piled into the car and went to class. When she came home a few hours later, Masana was all smiles.

This morning I began my usual routine: empty dishwasher, make breakfast, pack lunches, review what extra-curricular activities each kid has. I called out from the kitchen and reminded Masana that she had to leave early for band practice. Before I finished getting the words out of my mouth, Masana entered the kitchen fully dressed and ready to leave. And she was wearing a sweater dress.

My husband came down the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he spotted Masana. And I saw the arc of his emotions: surprise, pride, and...concern.

That's right, Dave. Our girl is a knock-out. In about six months you'll have to deal with the stupidity of boys as they notice her. And in about six years you'll have to scare the bejezus out of all these same stupid boys as they try to date her.

Masana is starting to wear dresses again. And she's enjoying it.

Lights, Camera, Action!

Last Friday my new iPhone arrived. Ain't she a beauty??


Despite the numerous ways this shiny new toy can organize my life, I am having trouble focusing on specific tasks. Like making lunches for my kids. Today they are having pasta for the umpteenth time. And whatever crafty projects I've had the gumption to start have languished in the middle phases and unceremoniously dumped on the floor of my workroom. It's become a booby trapped area of my home, riddled with thick sewing needles and C-clamps and wire cutters and light bulbs and...anything else that would seem inappropriate for little children to play with. (Gimlets and awls, anyone?)


It might be sheer coincidence, but lately the
[image error] "Love is the only thing that can save this poor creature, and I am going to convince him that he is loved even at the cost of my own life. No matter what you hear in there, no matter how cruelly I beg you, no matter how terribly I may scream, do not open this door or you will undo everything I have worked for. Do you understand? Do not open this door.


"Let me out. Let me out of here. Get me the hell out of here. What's the matter with you people? I was joking! Don't you know a joke when you hear one? HA-HA-HA-HA."

The only project that I've completed in the last few weeks is a pendant lamp made from an oatmeal tin. Since pictures won't do it justice, here is a quick video of the lamp turned on (shot with my new fancy iPhone):


The metal of the can and chains, the lightbulb, the electrical aspect...hmmm. Maybe I was influenced by  Herr Doctor Frankenstein??

Another project that is almost finished is a little sign for my husband Dave.


Dave sleepwalks. I wrote about his sleepwalking last year and how it can be a little, uh, disturbing.
To help rouse himself back to reality, Dave made  a little sign that he keeps by the bed, and sometimes it actually works. While in mid-dream, he'll pick his head up from the pillow, open his eyes, and scan the room for whatever he thinks made a noise (usually it's a spider, but do spiders make noises??). Dave will spot his sign and realize that he is just dreaming.




I decided to make him a new sign and have a little fun with it.

[image error] Again, I think that you can see the influence of Young Frankenstein here. While sketching, I heard Frederick Frankenstein shouting (while in dream mode):

"DESTINY! DESTINY! NO ESCAPING THAT FOR ME! DESTINY! DESTINY! NO ESCAPING THAT FOR ME!"

It seemed appropriate to include Dr. Einstein and Dr. Freud in this new jazzed up version of Dave's "It's Not Real" picture. You can almost year them saying,

"I beg of you! We are not children here, we are scientists! I assure you there is nothing to fear!"

Okay, okay, I'm done with the Young Frankenstein quotes for today.




But I'm not quite done with this picture. I'm working on the mat and frame, which will hopefully be ready before the end of this month. Cross your fingers that Young Frankenstein is on TV again.


Cheers!

Cheese Babka and BK Swappers

Individual cheese babka for the BK Swappers event last week.
Cheese babka is one of my favorite treats to bake. The bread is buttery, pliable and firm enough to hold the filling without becoming a mushy mess. The cheese filling is delicately sweet and light. I usually bake it in a loaf pan, but for last week's BK Swappers event (held at 61 Local in Brooklyn) I decided to make them individual size. Using the same recipe for two babka loaves, I was able to divide the dough into 2 large muffin pans for twelve mini cheese babkas. I only traded nine of them; three suffered the "let's make sure it taste good" fate shortly after leaving the oven. Oh, well.


If you want to learn more information about BK Swappers and the concept of food swapping, The New York Times wrote a terrific piece on the women who started it and the how it all works. Check it out if you can. And if you're inspired to either join in the next BK Swappers event or start a swap in your comfy corner of the world, check out the BK Swappers Facebook page.

Salsa before I ate the rest of it.
 I wish that I had more!At last week's swap, I was fortunate to trade a babka (or two?) for some delicious heirloom tomato salsa. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my fellow swapper not only grew all the heirloom tomato varieties, made, and jarred the salsa, but she also maintains a decent blog about gardening in the boroughs of New York City. Being a Brooklynite and watching my Dad till the soil in the patch of dirt we called a backyard, I understand how hard city gardening is. It's a love and a passion and an OBSESSION. The faint of heart need not attempt such an endeavor.

And because she asked (and because she is willing to trade her salsa recipe for it!), I am presenting (yes, to anyone who wants it) my cheese babka recipe.


CHEESE BABKA (yields one loaf or six mini muffin babkas)

Ingredients
Dough
1/3 cup warm milk
1 teaspoon plus 2 tablespoons of sugar
1 package of dry yeast (1/4 ounce)
1 2/3 cups all purpose flour
1 large egg (room temperature)
1 egg yolk (room temperature)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter (room temperature)

Cheese Filling
1 eight ounce container of whipped cream cheese
1 cup powdered sugar

Wash:
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon whole milk

Crumble Topping (optional)
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter
1 tablespoon all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon


Directions
Dough: activate yeast by mixing it in a large bowl with milk and 1 teaspoon of sugar. Let it stand for 5 minutes. (If the it does not bubble, then the yeast is not useable; start over again.) Mix in the rest of the sugar, then 1/3 cup of flour. Mix in these ingredients one at a time, taking care to mix in between: egg, 1 cup of flour, egg yolk, and 1/3 cup of flour. Add vanilla extract and salt. Add butter and knead it thoroughly in the large mixing bowl, adding extra flour to get a soft and slightly sticky dough. Butter the surface of another large mixing bowl and transfer the dough into it. Add butter to one side of a piece of cellophane and cover the top of the bowl, butter side facing down. Be sure to push the cellophane directly down on top of the dough. Place in a draft free space (inside the oven will do--be sure it's not turned on!) for 2 hours until is doubles in size.

(If you are not ready to bake, you can place the dough in the fridge for up to 24 hours. Take it out a few hours prior to continuing on with the rest of this recipe. This allows for the dough to reach room temperature).

Cheese Filling: in a medium size bowl mix the cream cheese and the powdered sugar.
Wash: in a small bowl mix one egg yolk and a tablespoon of milk.

Remove cellophane and set it aside (you will use it again). Punch down the dough. On a well floured surface, roll out the dough in a rectangle that measures approximately 12 inches high and 20 inches long. With a spatula spread the cheese filling on top evenly. Take the horizontal top end of the dough and roll it inward and down towards the horizontal bottom. You should form a long roll. Bring the two ends together to form a "U" and gently squeeze the ends together. Pull and twist the dough into a helix.
Butter the surface of a bread pan and carefully place the dough in it. With a pastry brush, spread half the wash on the top of the dough. Cover with the buttered cellophane previously used and allow to rise in a draft free area for 2 hours.

Crumble: with a fork, cut butter into small pea size pieces. Add flour, sugar, and cinnamon. Mix until it has a breadcrumb consistency. (This can all be done using the pulse setting on a food processor.)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Remove cellophane and sprinkle the crumble over the top. Spread the rest of the wash over the top and then place in the middle rack of the oven. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

------
And there you have it. Now I guess that I'll have to bring something else to the next food swap. My cheese babka secret it out!