My take on The Little Red Hen has been forever warped by The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales, but this project’s origins have a more wholesome intent.  We are facilitators for our local Earth Scouts group, and since our audience is mainly our kids, we know they’re young enough to get a kick out of the felt role playing.  Plus, we’re using some of the felt scraps left over from a previous project.

The idea is to make felt characters to act out the story of The Little Red Hen but to give the story an ending that enforces economic justice, equality and human (er, animal) rights.

I may not have the story down yet, but at least we have a few creatures to show.

Have handy some

• felt, various colors
• scissors
• fabric glue
• Sharpie or fabric marker 

That’s all you need, unless, of course, you’re like me and like to sketch out what it might look like first.  If so, add paper to your list; in my case, it’s scrap construction paper.

For the board, we had a spare cork board over which I put some felt fabric, stapling around the back into the wood frame.  Another suggestion seen in the link below is to glue felt to a cookie sheet, making a more personal-sized area to work on.

I found that breaking the animals into pieces makes for easy assembly, good use of awkward-sized scraps and more dimensional animals (which is hard to convey in the photos).  For some, making up your own animals might be intimidating, but this is not the place to worry.  My philosophy is to just bite the bullet and do it.  I do not claim to be an awesome visual artist; it’s just not my preferred medium.  I do, however, enjoy creating things and saying.  “Yes, I did that, and it makes me happy.”  Chances are, it’ll make someone else feel good, too.  Kids especially are extremely forgiving and would rather see you try than see and hear you apologizing for not making a “perfect” something-or-other.  I digress . . .

Felt board projects abound, and the farm setting is pretty common.   For instructions on another version of a felt board, go here, and if you’re interested in finding some templates for animals and such visit this site, though be forewarned that it is very elementary school-ish.

This project may not be as cool as the Zombie Bunnies, but it
definitely has a practicality value.  You can create almost any scene, setting, cast that you need to, it can enhance story times and it provides a helpful alternative to the t.v.  I have our “Little Red Hen” cast stored in a labeled gallon plastic bag, so there will be no confusion of the pieces should we get other collections going.

If the kids enjoy it, I’ll consider myself receiving an extra gold star.  I’ve already had fun making it.

A part of the sermon from Sunday keeps coming to mind.  Being the sort to acknowledge that which seems persistent, whether it be a child or a hunch, I’ll give it some attention and see what comes from it.  Plus, we’re due for a little dose of spirituality.

It’s the story of the Samaritan woman at the well that sticks most, in particular the part where, after her conversation with Jesus, she rushes into town, leaving her water jug at the well.  Our priest brought forth the imagery that no longer does this woman have a thirst for water; she has been filled herself with the Living Water of Christ.  This marginalized woman is the vessel.

Now, I have to give the disclaimer that I do not read the Bible as literally as some.  In fact, I haven’t read the whole thing through cover to cover.   My relationship to the Bible is a special, sacred, literary relationship.  I enjoy many of the stories in the Bible as invitations to further thought, glimpses into the mystery of Divine Love, Spirit and the potential of man and suggestive commentary about our suffering.  Sometimes, however, little images from a part of the whole can be influential — such as this woman at the well.

This woman, this EveryWoman, knows her status in society, and she does not deny it, even to this stranger.  She becomes filled with Jesus’ “Living Water,” seeming to forget her earthly purpose at the well.  She is a vessel of God’s Love and Acceptance, a vessel of Christ’s words and teachings.  With no pretense or shame, she can run into the crowd of townspeople, whom she had avoided by going to the well at high-sun, and proclaim the Messiah.

Every woman is very like any daughter, wife, partner, mother, sinner, dreamer.  Chances are, like her, we’ve done things that we’re not proud of but that we might own up to given the chance.  But chances are, too, that we come to the well already overflowing, trying to fill that which we know is already full.  We’re hungry, but there’s not room; we’re thirsty, but there’s no place for water.

I read a lovely book one summer called Everyday Sacred.  In it, the author professes her passion for bowls, empty bowls.  Why?  Because a bowl can be filled.  It goes back to the story of the monk serving his teacher more tea, though the cup is overflowing.  If you think you know, your mind is already too full.  How can you learn more if there’s no room?  How can you understand if your heart is already set?

We are meant to be the bowl, the tea cup, the vessel.  This story of Jesus talking to the outcast woman is just his way of emptying her mind, our minds — no social boundaries.  She has no husband — no illusions.  She has no jug — no attachments.  We are what we are, and things are what they are.  As we presume she and the disciples saw it, Jesus was all they needed to thrive spiritually.  If you could understand that, you were at once empty and fulfilled.

How does this apply today?  It’s all the same, except now we have even more jugs to carry, each to be filled from different wells.  Perhaps it’s good to keep refilling them, so long as the water is new and fresh and continues to nurture self and others.  But when we just fill and fill and fill, there’s a drainage issue.  We also need to be able to stand alone at the edge of the lake or ocean and realize that no vessel is big enough to encompass that which surpasses all understanding.  Our one vessel holds one drop of something greater.

We are no greater and no less than this Samaritan woman.  We can only hope that we would find ourselves empty at the well so that we might be filled, our thirsts quenched.

Sunday afternoon brought us our crafting time this past weekend.  Leave it to my ever-talented sister-in-law to bring in something delightfully creative.  My daughter likes to say she’s “the coolest aunt.”  So, thanks to the folks at Etsy for showing us some inspiring projects.  (If you haven’t heard of Etsy, go there . . . NOW.  You’ll visit often and maybe be inspired to start your own store.  It’s at least a great alternative for handmade gifts and a way to support artisans — if you’re not going to do it yourself.)

Some of our inspiring links –

• Zombie Bunny Jumbo Plushie Magnet from KillTaupe
• MINI Critter – tess the rabbit from rubberbunny
• Felt Like It Mini MONKEY Doll from VerukaDollsLand

Now, for our experience, it was made easy with some prep work by the “cool aunt.”

• Sketch designs, trace onto paper for templates, cut out.
  (Envelopes with the picture on the outside housed the easily lost little pieces.)
• Gather felt, buttons, thread, glue, scissors, needles, cotton balls/stuffing, paint, glitter, keychains, magnets, etc.
• Cut out felt.
• Assemble using felt/fabric glue and/or hand stitches, stuffing as need be.
• Add embellishments.
• Attach keychain, insert magnet or place atop popsicle stick.

Like I’m fond of saying, if you can see it, you can do it. 

Sharp, pointy scissors really make cutting the felt into little pieces loads easier.

Glitter on top of the red puff paint gives the bunny “blood” a  nice glimmer.

We ran out of time on Sunday, but I brought home a couple of bunny cut-outs to make some for my boys.  When I get those done, I’ll post in the comments.  Obviously, this project is for those old enough to wield scissors well, sew or at least be very patient and follow instructions well.  Thus, my making them for the boys!  The girls who did their own were 9-13 years old.

It’s a week for felt, I guess!  Thursday I’ll have another felt project to share, one not so graphic.  

Enjoy!

As mothers we receive lots of things.  The bills, the colds, the art projects, our friends’ recipes, hugs and kisses and each other’s support, if we’re fortunate enough to have a network.  There are all kinds of material and immaterial “things” we take in all day long.  I wonder if that might be one reason moms are usually so generous, volunteering in multiple and diverse ways.

But think of a time when you were really looking forward to something.  A care package from a distant friend?  A tax refund?  Your kids from camp?  How about waiting for a baby’s conception?  News that the tumor was benign?

There’s a tremendous relief, joy and lightheartedness at the arrival, isn’t there?  I want to find a way to incorporate every part of my day as something to be received graciously.  I want to be joyful when I pick up my kids from school rather than seeing it as another errand.  Perhaps all I need to do is be mindfully present, and the joy will lie therein.  Easily said, right?

But what about receiving the overdrafts, the malignant tumor, the death we hadn’t prepared for?  Will receiving those mindfully make them less worse?  As humans, I suppose it’s our lot in life to “take the good, . . . take the bad.”  (My 80s-t.v.- influenced mind plays “The Facts of Life” theme song in my head.)  As mothers it seems we have a significant influence on how our family faces each moment.  How many of us have weathered the storm with an assuring hug and comforting words even as our own stomachs turned and hearts raced?  Of course, I don’t just mean thunderstorms.

Mother, father, man or woman, we don’t always have a choice about what we are receiving, but we can choose how we receive it.  We are, after all, setting an example for our children and all those in our presence.  I can’t help but think that we need to be humble and gracious when receiving life’s blessings, and when faced with tribulations, we can all hope to be honest and strong.  A network of support never hurts, either.

(I, too, dabble in the fiction realm.  Enjoy, and pass along to others you feel might benefit.)

I wander through the woods.  The thicket scrapes against me, and my laden vest pulls me down.  It’s so heavy.  I can go no further.  I fall to the ground.

I watch the glimmer of light come closer, flicker before my eyes, dancing around, it seems.  Suddenly, it poofs into a fairy, more like a fairy godmother.

“Why have you stopped, dear?” she asks.

“I can go no further,” I say in despair, feeling the sweat all over my body, clothes soggy and clinging.

“Nonsense,” the fairy replies.  “You have all you need.  Now, get up and get moving.”

I protest, and she keeps telling me to move.  Finally, her little pixie body yanks me up, pulling me out of my pit of despair and into her full attention.

“Empty those pockets,” she orders.

So I pull out the wipes, tissues, diapers, toys, the snacks, drinks and medicines.  I pull out more toys and crumbs.  I carefully remove the sewing machine and sewing box, the computer, about half a dozen cookbooks and a small bag of make-up.  I look at the fairy pleadingly. 

“Isn’t that enough?”  I ask.

“Is it?” she asks me.

I feel lighter, but there’s still more weight than I feel I can carry.  So, I empty more pockets.  Out go all the CDs, a shelf worth of books, fancy garden tools and kitchen gadgets.  Out go the fancy planters and delicate vases.  I take the vest off for a bit and realize I have layers of clothing on.  I peel the layers off until finally I’m in a simple dress over my pretty yet practical undergarments.  I take off large rubber boots and large clunky boots until I’m left with just my sandals.  I even had extra socks on, so I take those off altogether.

I pick up my vest and put it on.  It slides on easily and hangs loosely, comfortably.  I smile.

“How’s that?” I ask, looking up at the fairy.  “Fairy?” I call out.  I look for her in all directions, but I don’t see her.

“Check your pockets now, and leave the rest behind you.  Enjoy the journey.”

I look around for her, but I only heard the voice.  Was she out there or just in my mind?

Looking in my pockets, I find a needle and thread, wooden spoon, a spade and cultivator and a pen and notebook.  There’s a mound of things around me, and I was tempted to pick some of it back up.  I love that so much; that comes in so handy; I paid so much for that . . . But my pockets now are too small.  I wasn’t sure how I had carried it all in the first place.

So I leave it.  I turn and don’t look back.  Just over the rise of hill and around the bend, the woods clear and give way to a beautiful, enchanted woodland with a rippling spring and flowers and everything I love about the forest.  No more would I feel I didn’t have room to enjoy myself, my life.

I sit on a carpet of moss by the creek, eat from the berries I picked from a nearby bush and pull out my pen and notebook.  The possibilities are endless.

Not an original title, I know, but that’s what I’m working on.  Rather, it’s what I want to be working on after I clear the floor in the room so we have no puncture wounds from Legos!

If you can sew a seam, you can quilt.  I have received no formal training/instruction.  If you can see it in your mind, you can do it.  Granted, I’m still learning tricks of the trade for more advanced quilting, but that’s another post.

Homemade baby blankets are great because they are truly a gift from the heart and a labor of love (hopefully!).  Also, they’re naturally smaller.  I like the bigger baby blankets, about a yard square.  Practically, they give you more space for design, last the child longer and make great cover-ups for nursing or dirty floors, depending on which you’d rather cover.  (I’d go for the floor!)

Here are my very general steps:                 

• Plan design, gather materials.  Materials can get expensive, so have your budget in mind.
• Launder fabric and iron (yes, especially if it’s cotton).
• Cut top pieces to appropriate measurements.
• If your top piece has applique or needs piecing, do this.  Here is where I sewed the ribbons onto the ribbon blanket.
• After top piece is done, measure and cut batting and back piece (I tend to lay it all out and just cut around the top piece, but I’m not the most obsessively accurate seamstress!).
• Pin the layers together.  I have used a batting for which you
  

   just iron to bond the layers together.  That one time I used it, it was on a poly-based batting, I believe.  I JUST found a cotton variety.  I’ll have to look harder next time I’m in Hancock’s, I guess!

• Start sewing/quilting the three layers, starting from the center.
• Sew on binding.  This is the tricky part to me, especially the corners.  I haven’t quilted much of late and got rusty, apparently.  Practice, practice, practice.
• Give the lovely product to the new addition to your life.
• BE SURE TO TELL THEM TO USE IT!

If my laywoman’s simple instructions have aggravated you, please don’t lose heart.  Go to a site that has a more detailed step-by-step guide.  Remember, if you can “see” it, you can do it.  This is meant to be fun and to nurture your creativity!
                   

The lucky recipients of these blankets are my new second cousins.  Welcome to the family!

(I’ll post a picture of the floral blanket in the comments when I have it done!)

The optimist in me believes that The Living It Green Expo is truly what is says it is:

“The Living It Green Expo is about living abundantly green and healthy lifestyles, enjoying and preserving the great outdoors, and saving money by making better, more eco-friendly decisions.”

I encourage all in the area to attend, to find one (or have one) in your area, or at least to consider what it means for your family to live up to “living it green.”

The healing qualities of water are probably innumerable.  A bath itself soothes the muscles and calms the spirit.  I don’t give myself enough baths, though we were excited to have a large tub in our house when we bought it three years ago.  There is one bath that I have taken here that I hope never to forget.

We were blessed to have a wonderful home birth for our fourth child, a baby girl.  Everything went like we had hoped it would — never underestimate the power of visualization . . . and it never hurts to be specific!  Our team of midwives worked swiftly and quietly, their headlamps cutting through the dark; I can’t imagine birthing with a better group of women.  No one can over-emphasize the importance of a good birth team.  Not only should you share your birth philosophy, you should respect and admire each other.  I think that’s an element not everyone knows about, but I digress . . .   We had a beautiful home birth followed by something almost as awesome.  The babe and I shared an herb bath.

The midwives prepared the herbs and drew the water.  They helped me into the tub, and after I got comfortable, they presented me my child.  We covered her with a towel, washcloth and hat, and I poured water over her to keep her warm.  It was quiet as mornings can be, except for the water moving with my motions or the soothing voices of the midwives.  I whispered to our new child.  I blessed her.  I wondered what secrets she knew.  I kissed her.  I loved her.  Then I held her close again against my breast.

The midwives joined me in the room, sitting around the tub like ladies in waiting, though our lady had arrived.  Now we could be still and enjoy.  I thanked them.  One midwife noted the sun — it’s light looked like hydrangeas as it was shaped by the glass blocks behind the curtain.  She had taken pictures for me of the baby’s first bath.  There were also candles lit, and time seemed to be still, too, for these precious moments.

We held a conversation, the midwives and I, about community and motherhood.  I can’t remember everything that was said, but I do remember that I was glad to share this time in my life with them.  I’ll happily tell my daughter how blessed she was from the beginning.  Our conversation grew quiet, and the water became cool.  I knew then that the bath was a part of the birth, too, cleansing and healing, brief and beautiful, momentary.

It would be easy to think I had dreamt it, but it happened, in all its quiet glory and grace.  I have pictures to prove it.

It may be a stretch considering homemade laundry detergent a  craft, but I’ll do it anyway.  Besides, saving money on laundry detergent means being better able to justify new crafting supplies.  Everything’s blissfully interconnected.

Apparently making this detergent was all the rage about a year ago; many blogs documented the effort, with comments to boot.  You can always count on awesome frugal tips from Simple Dollar, and they had the recipe I was going to follow first.  However, this recipe involved boiling down the soap (“rebatching,” I hear it’s called) and ending up with a bucket of slime.  Sounds fun, but it also sounds like a weekend project for the family.  I was out of laundry detergent and needed it quickly.  Thus, a little more searching, and I found this powdered recipe at Modern Cottage.  They also have a monetary breakdown.

Ingredients — 1 cup soda, 1 cup borax, 1 bar soap, grated . . . that’s it.  I was already using the borax and/or soda to give my detergent a boost.  I was also already using the vinegar recommended for the rinse cycle; it helps remove extra soap, and I also learned it reduces static.  This is good to know.

As you can tell, it fits into the 32oz. yogurt container.  I sacrificed a measuring spoon to scoop it out since you only use 1 tablespoon, 2 if it’s really dirty, per load.  This affirms what I’ve learned in the past few months.  Too much soap is bad on your machine.  We like suds.  Apparently they make us feel better about cleanliness, but our machines and our clothes don’t need them.  Also, we have hard water (per the lady who really wanted us to buy a water filter).  The hard water makes us use more soap throughout the house in general.

Along with this, I cut out using the dryer sheets.  This is hard for us because we like our Bounce-fresh clothes.  They smell “good.”  However, we all have dry, sensitive, eczema-prone skin, and I’m hearing that fabric softeners in general are just ungodfully bad for you.  (Yes, I think I’m using a non-word!)  As I mentioned, I’ve been using vinegar to rinse (mainly since front-loaders are prone to mildew clothes quickly), but it also helps to soften the clothes a bit.  So, we’re about to find out how this works for us since I’ve almost made it through a full cycle of clothes — remember, a family of six.  My thoughts are that it might take a couple of washes to get to neutral, anyway.

I made this a multi-part post because, like I said above, it may take a few washes in this to truly see how it works.  Here are a few other of my initial thoughts.

• It feels good to know I’m being resourceful and more ecological.
• There are no suds in the front of the machine.
• The clothes don’t have a perfume-smell but still smell clean.
• Synthetic clothes will just be full of static if dried in the dryer.  (I hear that fleece lasts longer when hung to dry, and less dryer use=smaller carbon footprint.)
• Most recipes call for washing soda, but all I have is the baking soda.  I may try to order some washing soda and see how that’s different.  Other folks have used baking soda, too, and it works for them.  (*If you can’t find soaps locally and decide to buy soaps on-line, make sure you search to find the best price.  If you find them locally, let me know where!)
• Most recipes call for Fels Naptha soap.  I couldn’t find that locally, either, so I started  with Ivory.
• My Ivory soap was soft/moist and wasn’t grating well, so I used half of it and half of a bar of castille soap we had on hand.  Make sure the soap is dry before grating . . . and watch your hand.  I still have scabs on my thumb knuckle.
• Make sure not to inhale the borax.  Probably a main plus to the slimy version is that there isn’t the risk of inhaling the borax.  If you’re like me and shake it to mix it in the end, be sure to let settle before taking the lid off.
• I’m curious to see how having a water filter will affect the performance. I’ll let you know after we get one (thank you in advance, US government).

Overall, I like this blend so far.  I’ve used it since Friday and have about a third of it left.  I pretty much keep the machine going, losing count of how many loads per day that I do.  In subsequent posts, I’ll let you know how this continues to work for us, what the slimy mixing experience is like, and how the powder/gel compares/contrasts.

Hope this helps.  Let me know how it works for you.