The High Cost of Small Needs

As predicted I had to toss more than half a box of crackers due to expired staleness. I had to buy them when I needed them and then when I needed them again “it’s too late baby, now.” I hate being right.

About 45 years ago crackers sat next to my alarm clock on the night stand. Nine months or so later they were back in the cupboard and became a go to accompaniment to a bowl of Campbells tomato soup, or still the occassional tummy upset. Having hungry children to feed they also served as a makeshift PB&J. And this is where I was today; in need of a makeshift.

A week ago Saturday I bought a lovely loaf of rye bread at the local co-op. It was only $4.99. I say only beacuse my usual loaf from the local grocery store has gone up to $5.99. This beautiful loaf was still far bigger than I knew I needed or wanted but it was the smallest I could find. Today, along with the no longer “premium” saltines, I had to toss about $3.99 worth of that loaf because it had become a science project.

So here I was, PB on the ready and no slice for my smeer. Fortunately I am not above eating a spoon full of peanut butter. Immediate problem solved. But there is still the dilemma of what one does to get around a too large loaf or a too short shelf life. For starters I am pulling out my recipe for starter. I can try, again, to bake a 1/2 loaf of brick, I mean bread.

Last night, as sleep eluded me, I thought I might make myself a cute pair of brown cords to wear in the coming chill of Autumn. I finally fell asleep with images of warm cocoa brown legs making that fun swish-rub noise when I walked.

Over the morning coffee I searched on-line at my go-to store for fabric. At Michael’s.com I searched ‘brown corduroy cotton fabric’. Scrolling through the wrong colors, and less than cotton choices I clicked on what I thought was the price for a whole bolt of fabric. I was seriously shocked to see that they are asking almost $56 a yard (!) for cotton corduroy. I cannot even begin to tell you of the spiral I went down on. If this is the cost of fabric how much are britches ready made at Walmart? Or Macy’s?

This, I think, is the effect of the pumpkin-head-president and his insanity over tariffs. I am truly afraid for people with families that need to dress their babies. I can only imagine that places like second hand stores and Good Will will be very necessary to many. Will we again be saving flour sacks to make clothing? Hardly. These days flour comes in paper bags.

My sister had a paper dress in the 60s. Gee, I wonder what happen to that?

Across the street from the food co-op is this fabulous new little shop called Up Stitch. They sell fabric, yarn, patterns, threads; all the things for crafters of textiles. They too will now be a lifeline for many, including me.

Talk about vintage!

The cords are on hold. I’m off to the grocery store. The starter calls for flour. On the way I am going to swing by the food pantry. That $6 I’m saving will help someone else feed their family.

Fuck Trump.

Shifting Seasons

As this ‘second season in a row that I have not paddled’ begins to close I have come to accept that I no longer crave a kayak. After 15 years of needing to chase every paddle I now accept this change. The feel of a summer afternoon on my skin and the scent of the river at dusk no longer makes my blood tingle with the need to be in a boat. Where once I would trembled with the desire now I just acknowledge the beauty of past experiences and value of those memories. I can still assemble the gear and tie the knots but the need to run to the next launch is gone. The rush of adrenalin has slowed. The fever has cured. Mostly.

On a bus heading north.

Instead I hosed away spider webs and two winters of dirt and debris from the boats, gathered paddles and PFDs, and staged the whole pile for my grandson to haul north for his kayaking adventures. As preparations were being made we shared the memories of our many camping trips together. Paddling was always a part of our trip and it warms my heart to know that he cherishes those memories as much as I do. My season comes to an end. His is beginning.

Upon the boats’ return a break in the hottest summer in my memory gave me a boost of energy to tackle some clean up. Rather than just returning the boats to previous style storage I decided to update my system to suit my new roll. A new design was needed for this new ‘Season of Susan.’

Years ago when the grandson out grew the A-frame swing set I slapped on some 2bys and tarped up a pretty impressive storage system for, at one point, 4 boats. The system turned out to be perfect for storing lumber and bits of wood as well. If I ever have a need for some 150 year old boards from my 150 year old basement walls, complete with hand forged square nails, I’ve got them at the ready.

The blessed bike.

When I added my 2 E-trikes into this makeshift shed access became complicated. In this new season of bikes not boats I determined that the boats needed to take a “back seat”on the rack. Now I can get to the trikes without moving a boat first. And angels, on a dismantled fireplace mantel that had also come to its’ end of season, watch over my trikes.

From re-purposing swing sets and reusing old lumber to now “Frankensteining” garments, I live with the constant thought of “what can this be next?” It seems to me that by refashioning a blanket or towel into a shirt or jacket gives that item another season in which to shine with purpose. It celebrates the often stunning art of the textile and showcases the talent and craftspersonship of its original maker. I feel great pleasure working with these fabrics and honoring all that they were before.

Thrifted or purchased at an estate or garage sale these castoffs join together to have a new season. A life time of sewing has given me the skills and a lifetime of curiosity has given me the courage to take scissor to slightly worn and maybe no longer loved items and marry them in new ways. It’s fun and a bit of a surprise every time.

With the shift in seasons comes the closet swap; sleeveless to sleeved, short to long, and so on. I was certain I’d find a Tee or two that could gleefully find continued life as a piece of a new whole. Interestingly all I discovered was that in this season of white hair and paler skin tone all I have is far too many gray toned tee shirts. It would seem that with the seeping of color from my person so has the color seeped from my wardrobe. No better excuse to be off to the thrifts in search of new treasures!