Picking Grapes

I have a childhood memory of stomping grapes in a large crockery vat.  So, when Somerset Ridge Winery sent out an e-mail looking for grape-pickers on a week day, my husband and I jumped at the opportunity.  I re-arranged my usual online teaching schedule for Friday and dressed in my best work clothes headed east a few miles.  There with twenty other hardy souls, we picked the first Crimson Cabernet grapes to be harvested in the country!

My camera got a little sticky as I snapped these photos with my stained purple hands.

We were given grape forks and assigned one side of a row,

we dropped the clusters in bright yellow bins that were carted away as they filled up...














the yellow bins were dumped into a larger vat, where insects buzzed about the sweet fruit

You know me--always enchanted by a color.  How could this dusty purple be translated into clothing? 

I noticed as we picked that others were taking cell phone calls and conversing as though they were in the office...so I wasn't the only one to rearrange their schedule.

After two hours work, we were rewarded with a glass of wine

And a lovely lunch...
















We bought two bottle of  Flyboy Red to give as eventual dinner party gifts.  I'm probably most excited about about the Limoncello and may not be able to part with that one.  The sunshine, the food, the drink.  It all seemed so civilized.  I wanted nothing more than a little nap....

Witches?

Tuesday, I had a wellness check by my insurer.  They took height, weight, blood pressure, cholesterol and administered a questionaire about the "stresses" in my life.  According to their lights, I got a "C."  But, I'm lighter than my own scale told me I was!  And the cholesterol is slowly, slowly, slowly creeping up. 

It would be impossible to eat much healthier than I currently do.  I KNOW that I need to exercise more.    The question is how to squeeze that in to an already busy life. 

For years, I've been amused by my mother's dear friend and neighbor, E.  She has a habit of sweeping with an old-fashioned broom, everything in sight.  I've seen her sweep her driveway, and the sidewalks, and the street, and my mother's driveway, and my mother's deck.  I attributed the habit to growing up, perhaps poor, in Arkansas.  BUT, E. at age 78 is in great shape.

Today, I unearthed my broom and gave it a try.  The deck needed it.  After 40 minutes, it looked far better than it has all summer.  I was sweating mildly and glowed.  I could feel the action of the broom in my waist and upper arms.  I took a 5 minute break and went back at it for another 40 minutes.  It will be curious to see how I feel tomorrow.  Right now, I'm planning on another session then and the day after that and the day after that.  By then, it will be time to sweep where I started all over again.

Week Four: School becomes a Grind

The first flush of the semester has worn off.  I can see it in the faces of students as they deliver increasingly fabulous excuses why their homework isn't done.  I can see it in my own face as I prepare and deliver seven classes and squeeze in five meetings.

This mustard color is a real departure for me. Remember years ago when you could have your colors done? I was classified as a "Winter" and told I should wear bold colors, but avoid yellow!

And here, in another confrontation with my own invisibility, is my face!

Excuse the cleavage or lack thereof!  The sunglasses are a big departure for me.  My specs are photo-sensitive and do that job for me.

On Wednesday, I finally wore a thrift store find that had hung in my closet for over a year.  In fact, I was ready to donate it back, when I saw a Chictopian wear a denim dress as a jacket.  At that point, I decided to give this a second chance.  It garnered a compliment from a student!!!  Yes!  That pleased me.

By the end of the day, the sleeves had been rolled up a couple of times as we discussed John Winthrop and Anne Bradford in American Literature.  Bradford confounds my picture of Puritan women:

To my Dear and Loving Husband

by Anne Bradstreet

If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me ye women if you can.

I prize thy love more than whole Mines of Gold,

Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,

Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.

Thy love is such I can no way repay,

The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.

Then while we live, in love lets so persevere,

That when we live no more, we may live ever.

Thursday's ensemble is my classic teaching  style--skirt, ironed blouse-- although the khaki shirt is a new color for me this year.  I broke up a pant's suit and kept the blouse.  The trousers that came with the set were waaay too big.





 This soft cordoroy jacket matched perfectly!  But the round toes on my Dansko clogs are starting to bug me.

Traffic Jams

I've long had the impression that most men don't care much about style.  Perhaps it's that the men in my immediate sphere work with their hands.  Perhaps it's that the guys on campus roll out of bed to get to class on time.  Perhaps it's that my male colleagues are ostensibly above concerns about their appearance.

But when I found myself stuck in traffic on a recent weekend, this man gave me pause.

It may well be that the elements of style are radically different for a guy.  The classic car might be equivalent to a designer purse.  The patterned silk shirt was perfect for a day of cruising with the top down.  He might be bald, but the hair was long enough to blow in the breeze.  And the stogey was the pefect finishing touch.

Our classic car, a 40's Olds in an eggplant color is in pieces, awaiting a rebuild.

A Blogger Award?

I'm not sure I'm ready for this.  Paula at Fashion Over Fifty has passed on the following award.  Here's all I have to do...

 

* Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award. 

* Share 7 things about yourself.
 * Pass the award along to 15 other bloggers who you recently discovered and think are fabulous.
* Contact the bloggers you chose and let them know about the award

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here are my seven things...

1)  The home I live in was once a funeral home!

2) I am a published novelist.

3)  I have a blended family of 8 grown children and have 8 grandchildren.

4)  I am saving my pennies for an around-the-world trip.

5)  My parrot, who I thought was a male, laid an egg this week.

6)  I suffer from insomnia.

7)  I took piano lessons for over 10 years.

And, I am passing the award along to the following bloggers:

1)  Lesa at Always Summer

2)  Chelsea at Bright Side Dweller

3)  Chelsea's mother at FabFashFifty

4)  KathleenCarla at InspiraFash

5)  Alex at IvoryInklings

6)  "Lucy" at LucyMarmalade

7)  Franca at Oranges and Apples

8)  Emily at RubySlipperJourneys

9)  Marie at TigerJam

10) Natasha at TheWhimsicalNerd

11)  Jenny at Closet365

12)  styleunderdog at The Style Underdog

13)  the SewingPixie at SewingPixie

14)  Emma at DailyClothesFix

15)  Melissa at Rambling Man

This is quite a diverse group of talented and adventurous women, from all over our globe!  Thanks for the daily inspiration.

Black Lace

I have a little black lace blouse.  But I don't know how to style it.  I worked with it all summer and never did find a way to style it that pleased me.  I think the problem has to do with my earliest lessons in style.  One's underwear should NOT show. 

In this first pick, the black lace is an underlayer, with the collar out hoping for contrast. 

Secondly, I was distracted by the skirt.  I like the swing in the sheer outer layer of polka dots.  (and forgotten all about the black lace!). 










These pictures were taken on a summer day and I was surprised that the color of the sweater I added didn't show up.

I like where the little black blouse took me, but in my mental scheme of things  I couldn't or wouldn't wear this until November.   Skirt by Express, thrifted; black lace by Erena, thrifted; boiled wool sweater by Napa Valley, thrifted.  The collar on the sweater is velvet.

 Do any of my readers have curious notions about the right time to wear a certain color?



Three Experiments

Number One:

One of the inner promptings that started this blog was a jewelry idea that came to me last August.  I suddenly wanted a pair of lightbulb earrings.  A light scouring of the internet didn't turn up what I wanted, so I began to study how I might make a pair.  I found real miniature lightbulbs in the miniatures section of a craft store and bought the wires I would need to dangle them.  But once home, my husband was obliged to get out his soldering gun and consult his son for technical advice.  Below is the result. 

I've worn these to campus.  They're NOT jewels and yet, no one objected or even commented.  They are likely too subtle.

Number Two:  A second unbidden idea (July) was a rorschach print tee.  I began with a discarded grey tee and three bottles of fabric paint.  I started with black and let dry for several days.  Then, I added blue and let dry for several days.  Finally, I added purple and went off on two weeks of vacation.  When it came time to actually wear the finished design, the front of the shirt was STUCK to the back.  In trying to pry the layers apart, the back ripped!  Aaaargh!  But lesson learned.  When I try this again, I will insert cardboard or a newspaper to prevent this happening.  I liked the design. 

Proenza Schouler has a pair of jeans this season that are heavy on the fabric paint, just as my "failed experiment" is.

I noticed though at this past week's faculty meeting, one of my colleagues had on a tee she bought at Kohl's with similar colors.  I liked it better because the scribbles covered the sleeves as well.

Number Three:  I searched for months to find a Peter Pan collar like I noticed on a colleague.  When I finally found a blouse that sported one, it was cut VERY full like a camp shirt.  That would not do, but I bought it and let it hang it my closet until I could think of a solution.  Miu Miu sold detached collars last season so one inspired night, I simply cut the color off the ginormous shirt.   I finished the edges and added lots of starch.  Here's the result.  I haven't worn it yet, but now it's sitting on my dresser, waiting for the right ensemble.



I really don't understand the impulse for my experiments, but I'm not questioning them.  Currently, there are several other jewelry ideas in the works.

Week Three: What's Wrong with this Picture

I knew that after a long weekend, I would have to hit the ground running on Tuesday.  This maxi knit skirt, striped t, and cinnabar elephant was perfect for a lesson in using artifacts as inspiration for stories.  Everything if thrifted except for the necklace, which was a gift from my folks after their trip to China.

On Wednesday, I recycled a summer look which I won't load a photo for.  I think I was feeling panicky that I was running out of days for certain colors and shoes. 

Thursday just felt wrong.  This is a remixing of a summer skirt too.  The tights were appropriate for campus and so was the t.  There IS a dark background in the skirt, but it just didn't "feel" right.

While I was still pondering the problem, my husband blurted out one of his spontaneous compliments. (He likes the tights, I think).  Now, I was stuck.  Tell me, what's off about this look?

Traveling with Pomegranates

In my creative writing classes, we do an exercise in observation in a place that is "uncomfortable" to us.  What is uncomfortable varies for each person, but the purpose of the exercise is to heighten our senses and to pay better attention.  We want to be one of those folks "on whom nothing is lost."  (supposedly Henry James, the prolix novelist, said that).

For me, the same is true of travel.  When everything around us is new and unfamiliar, we pay better attention.  My four day visit with my daughter was a whirlwind of experience:  a 600+ classic car show on Friday evening, a meandering drive to a rural cafe for a generous breakfast with LIVE music, an afternoon in a corn maze, an evening at the drag strip, church on Sunday morning, an exploration of a pictograph cave and Pompeii's Pillar on a drizzly afternoon, a shared glass of wine.

We pay better attention in a strange city even in a generic setting.  I watched my grandsons in the local mall for an hour, while my daughter shopped.  Native Americans from the nearby Crow Indian reservation shopped along Hutterite families in town for the day.  Men in long braids are frequent but unremarkable in this setting, but these Hutterite women obviously have some fashion on their mind.

The cut of the clothing is somewhat traditional, but the pattern mixing was unusual to my eye.  Traditionally, I have always seen these women in solid colors.































And I think Ralph Lauren's Spring/Summer 2011 collection may owe a reference to these buckskins as Pompei's Pillar.

The bucksin is incredibly soft, heavy, and of a lovely yellow color.

The primary purpose of my whirlwind trip was to spend some quality mother/daughter time with my oldest.  Somehow in the last decade we have switched roles.  Then, I was a beleaguered mother of teenagers and she was a newlywed.  Now, I am an empty nester with time on my hands and SHE is the beleaguered mother.  Traveling with Pomegranates explores the mother/daughter relationship and how it changes over the course of a lifetime.  Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter, Ann Kidd Taylor, use travel to explore the archetypal roles of women.  It's just out in paperback and it is worth it.

All Dressed Up; Nowhere to Go

I remember when people dressed up to travel.  I loved going to our local train station and admiring nuns in full habit with guitars banging against their legs.  Travelers wore overcoats that somewhat matched their trousers or skirts.  Women wore heels and furs and hats.  When a little girl closed her eyes, the babble of foreign tongues delighted her ears.

Airports were similar.  In the days before I traveled much, going to an airport was a reason to people watch.  There I saw exotic ensembles I couldn't see in my suburban backyard.

I've been following the adventures of world traveler Rolf Potts as he circles the planet with NO LUGGAGE and only the clothing on his back.  I wondered if I could pull this off for my upcoming Labor Day trip. 

In the end, I decided against it, because I was loaded down with presents for my grandsons, but for several days I pondered if I could get four days of appropriate ensembles out of the clothing on my back.  Rolf has been washing his underwear in sinks.

How times have changed.  The seventies had something to do with that, as did the downsizing of plane seating (at least in economy class where I fly) and the security measures of the past decade.   Who wants to dress up when no one knows how much knee room they'll have or what article of  clothing they might be obliged to remove.  One woman I met in a beautiful, but comfy floor length skirt told me she'd been frisked "up to her crotch."

I wore my cowboy boots, Levis, a white t, and a smockish chambray shirt--going.  Coming, it was boots and jeans again, with a long tissue t, and a short grey vest.  Something about the coming outfit was suspicious and I was patted down in the abdominal area. 

In my nod to Fashion week, I bought a copy of Vogue.  Big mistake  in terms of the weight.  I leafed through it forwards on the way out.  I leafed through it backwards on the way home.  And I have now reduced it to 16 worn out pages.






Dress by "Details,"  thrifted
Belt, thrifted
Shoes by "Trivia", thrifted

Hair--aaargh

Houndstooth

This is the outfit that began my closet cleaning search for the leggings several weeks ago.  In the meantime, I sampled it with thick tights.  The length is TOO short to wear it out in public anywhere and still, I like this Salvation Army find. 

The dress is a thick knit.  As the fall season unfolds, I may try it as a tunic over black slacks.

Dress by xhilaration.
Shoes by Nine West

Of Color Wheels and Salvage Yards

Recently, we made our annual trip to the metals recycler with aluminum, copper, brass, stainless steel in tow.  About once a year, this nets us about $200.  While there, I wondered why I couldn't pair a rust color with pale blue and a matte silver.  Is that on the color wheel?

Of Color Wheels & Spices

Nature doesn't know there is a color wheel.  As I mentioned in my last post, I've been studying my surroundings for unusual pairings of colors.  Our roadside ditches have begun to fill with a profusion of sunflowers and there has been a general yellowing of the dense green in my neck of the woods.

At the grocery story, the colors are true and artfully arranged for my shopping pleasure.

But the same yellowing is at work in the peppers.



At our local farmers market, I found these eggplants--a rich purple color--not far from these shiny roasted coffee beans.

And then there were these spices.  What if the colors we wore carried these aromas?

In the Meditteranean Market, all kinds of dried fruits and nuts.

And finally, to the Vietnamese SuperMarket.

Bright red and white packaging on this dried octupus and MSG.  A perennial green in the bamboo groves.