Reflections on 2011

On this the last day of 2011 I want to review how the last year went. I considered doing the meme that I did for 2010, where you post the first entry of each month of the previous year and discuss how it represented what you did, but again I find it doesn't really paint an accurate picture. So instead I think I'm going to go down my list of resolutions I made for 2011 and see how well I did with them.

1. Make some professional improvement. I am not going to define this specifically, but I am not satisfied with my current just-okay situation. Have already begun some more serious efforts; we'll see how this goes.

Well, here's a good start. I made quite a bit of improvement here. Not only did I find a job I like better-- the hours are better, I'm making a little more, and I like the work and environment significantly more --but I also got in grad school, which is what I meant by the "more seriously efforts" I had been making. I am proud of myself for succeeding with making this part of my life better, since it wasn't easy for me.

2. Get back into healthy eating and exercise habits. Jared and I have already started eating better; let's see if I can add regular workouts in there too.

Hmmm, sort of, but not entirely. I put on some weight during my long period of depression-induced inactivity in the first half of 2011, and I still haven't quite managed to lose it. But I did start taking ballet, and I've worked out almost every day since I've been home, so here's to getting back in the habit.

3. Write, cast, direct, and put on Merely Players.

Accomplished this, and did a pretty good job of it. One more produced piece under my belt.

4. Write, cast, and run The Stand at Intercon and Festival

Also accomplished, and pretty much entirely by myself. It is important to me that I actually DO and FINISH the projects I set for myself.

5. Help write and run Resonance at Intercon and Festival

Done with the great Alleged Entertainment team. I'm proud to have been a part of this game, and it's always an honor to work with them.

6. Make certain that Larpercalia this year is the best Festival it can be

I am extremely proud of how well I did with this. I set out to encourage everyone to produce and bring new games for 2011 and that happened better than I'd hoped. Thanks to everyone who helped it come to be.

7. Spend time with my parents. They need me right now, and I love them.

I did the best I could with the limitations the distance between us allowed. I called home almost every day, and made sure to come home for every period of time off I could get. I chose to spend this, my only week-and-a-half-long break, with them in the service of this goal.

8. Be nicer to be people. I'm a bit tired of people thinking I'm a great big meanie, but it's probably my own fault. Keeping the temper in check would probably be a good place to start.

I tried really really hard with this. I think I did a decent job with being friendly instead of standoffish, encouraging and supportive of other people's efforts, and considerate of others' needs and feelings. I'm not sure anyone really noticed a difference-- people tend to think I am both nicer and meaner than I actually am, if you can believe that. I still have a problem with being an ass when I am angry, and need to keep working on it. And I'm about as judgmental as ever, though at least I keep that mostly to myself.

9. Develop some better stress management techniques. I guess I don't have any truly bad reactions-- I don't drink, I don't overeat, I don't hurt myself -- but what I'm doing isn't really enough. My tension and emotional upset level is getting out of hand.

Yes and no. I overcame the really bad patch I was having in the last half of 2010 and the first half of 2011 eventually, and right now I am doing okay. But I know that in that time I have dealt with certain things I couldn't seem to change by basically just putting them out of my mind as much as I could. I'm not sure "just not thinking about it... indefinitely" is the best stress management technique, but with a lot of these things I just don't know what else to do. And I'm afraid going back to fixating on them the way I was will just land me back in the depression. So I don't know what's best there. Also, I feel tired a lot of the time, more mentally than physically, in a way that makes me not do certain things I should be doing due to my mind feeling weary.

10. Learn how to be hopeful. I really don't know how.

Eh. Not really, despite the evidence I've had from the things that did improve this year that things actually can get better. I imagine that this will be one of the great challenges of my life, contrary as it is to my nature.

So all in all, despite the first few months being rough, I moved a great deal forward this year. Maybe remembering that will help keep me hopeful. Now I need to make a new set of resolutions for 2012, and try to keep moving on.

Cheddar update

We took our cheddar out of the press. It has transformed from a mass of curds into a cohesive solid with a distinctly yellow color. Now it has to dry at room temperature for two or three days. I wonder if the color will get more intense. Then it will be waxed by dipping it into a melted pot of the stuff, and aged for several months. I can hardly wait all that time to see how it turned out. This may be the sort of thing that requires practice before true success.

First attempt at cheddar

Yesterday my dad and I made our first attempt at making a hard cheese. Hard cheese is more difficult than soft, you see, because it has to age for months afterward. That means you don't immediately see the evidence if you screwed up, and that if your equipment wasn't totally clean any contaminants can ruin it in the aging process. Got to be more careful when you make it.

For our very first try Dad and I elected to try what's called a stirred-curd cheddar. That's a way of making cheddar that is a little simpler than the traditional way, which must be really involved given how long this process took. We cooked the raw cow's milk in a double-boiler, a procedure we are still getting the hang of. Depending on the quantity of milk, the temperature rises at a different rate and has different amounts of carryover heating when after you turn the burner off. Cheese making involves enzymes and cultures that die and don't work if you heat them past certain temperatures. We mostly hit the marks we were supposed to, but during the curd-stirring step the carryover heated it almost ten degrees past where we wanted it, and there's really no way to cool off such a large quantity of liquid in short order, so we're worried we may have killed something important. Still, the milk seemed to form curds and set and mold the way it was supposed to, so maybe we're okay. Of course, it has to age for six months, so maybe we'll see the problems after that.

The making took a very long time, hours involving several temperature targets, long periods of constant stirring, and incremental increases in the pressure applied by a cheese press. The cheese is still in there now, requiring fifty pounds of pressure for a full twenty-four hours before being put aside to dry. You can see the whey draining out in the dish below into the sink. One neat thing is that we included cheese coloring to make it yellow cheddar, and though through most of the process it was very white, now that it's drying it's becoming more and more yellow.

I like the little engraving on the press, a little mouse in a chef's hat and apron holding a wheel of cheese.

We're thinking of making a second batch on Friday, once the press is free again. Just to see if we can do a better job of keeping the milk to temperature, in case the first batch doesn't come out.

The funniest story about Keith Moon

Apparently Animal from the Muppets was based on Keith Moon. I just read this story about him that cracked me up so hard I just had to share it, courtesy of Cracked.com:

"The best Keith Moon story is the time when shortly after leaving a hotel, he sat up in a panic and told the driver to stop and turn around. "I forgot something! We've got to go back!" Upon returning to the hotel, he ran to his room, grabbed the television and threw it out the window and into the pool. Returning to the car, he said with a great sigh of relief, "I nearly forgot!""

You'd never guess how many drugs this man took from the way he looks in this picture. Or how many hotel rooms he destroyed.

Christmas vacation

I hope everyone has as lovely a Christmas as I have had here at my parents' place in Allentown, Pennsylvania. To Mom and Dad's delight, I was lucky enough to get to work from home all this week, so as long as I attend to my computer I am permitted to spend more time with the family. It's very special that we get to spend so much time together, as we rarely have that long a period available. We have had a wonderful holiday so far, cooking wonderful meals and spending quality time together. I'm also planning to use this vacation, the largest chunk of unstructured time I've had or will have for ages, to work on projects and just do the things I want to do. I hope to practice some sewing under my mom's tutelage, exercise every day, play the copy of Skyward Sword Bernie so sweetly gave me, and do as much work as possible on the script for Tailor of Riddling Way. So far I've not done much other than the workouts, but that's because our Christmas celebration has taken up all the time. For the rest of my break I should be able to get to my list of things to do.

My new sewing buddy

Look at my new friend!

This is my early Christmas present-- early because when my parents came up to Boston, they wanted to drop it off then. I am so excited to use her, and I'm sure this will be great to learn and work on. I think draping sounds fascinating, and a good bodyform is essential for doing it.

Sewing equipment sizing being based on an older system, as you can see I got an eight. That's a wee bit bigger than I actually am, but my mom suggested it would be better to work on something slightly too big than slightly too small, and Heaven knows there's only one way we go as we get older.

She needs a name now so I can properly refer to her. I want something old fashioned, a fine old lady sort of name. Suggestions welcome, of course. I look forward to telling you about sticking her with pins and covering her with my crude draping attempts. :-)

Best when I do not smile.

Some photographs.



I do not hate this image of me.



My dad took this picture of my mom in the kitchen at their house. I like that he sees her this way.



My family is having dinner at Legal Seafood. This is the fountain in the center, from downstairs at the bar.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #12 - A brief scene from Mrs. Hawking

Yay for me for posting much more than biweekly. I know I should be focusing on The Tailor of Riddling Way, with its due date coming up, but I felt inspired to whip up this short scene for another play, a full-length piece, that I would someday like to finished called Mrs. Hawking. You can read the first scene of Mrs. Hawking here. I'm not sure where this falls in the sequence of the story, but this is an early scene showing the bonding between the eccentric, prickly Mrs. Hawking and her newly hired house girl, the bright young woman Mary Stone. 

(Open to the sitting room. MARY is seated at the table writing a letter.)

MARY: My dear Catherine, I am at last settling into my new position here in the home of Mrs. Victoria Hawking. I must say, however, though I know it is quite gauche to gossip about one’s employer, to work for Mrs. Hawking is nothing as I expected it to be. I have told you something of her extraordinary talents and her unusual profession for a gentlewoman, but not her remarkable habits. I had been made to understand her to be a retiring lady, but even so I was surprised to find that chief among my duties is to see that she must deal with as few outside people as possible. Tradesmen, prominent citizens, and would-be social callers alike I am to ward off in deference to her privacy and solitude. And yet, for one who goes to such lengths to avoid the society of others, at the same time society very often comes to the door seeking her. She sees only those ladies who have engagements marked down in her appointment-book to call on her, presumably those students she instructs in etiquette, and not only gentlewomen like herself but women of all walks. Her teaching takes no pattern that ever I've seen, for she seldom sees the same one twice, and they come at all hours of the day or night. I am to put on a pot of tea, show them into the parlor, and then make myself scarce. I am not at all sure what to make of it. Indeed this Mrs. Hawking is a strange one, Catherine, and perhaps more so even than at first I thought.

(Enter MRS. HAWKING. She wears a shift and a shawl. She looks for a book on a shelf before noticing MARY.)

MRS. HAWKING: Oh, hello, Mary.

MARY: Good afternoon, Mrs. Hawking. Is there something you need?

MRS. HAWKING: No, thank you, I find myself disappearing into my own thoughts today. Do not stir yourself from your writing, you seem most absorbed.

MARY: It's a letter to my sister.

MRS. HAWKING: (Sharply) Your sister?

MARY: Yes, Catherine. She lives in Durham.

MRS. HAWKING: You've family living? Surely not!

MARY: In fact I do, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: How irregular! Then why is it that upon your return this sister did not take you in?

MARY: I beg your pardon, ma'am?

MRS. HAWKING: It was my understanding that such was the done thing when it came to unmarried women thrust suddenly into your predicament.

MARY: Ah... yes, I suppose it is.

MRS. HAWKING: Then what kept you? You’d not write so long a letter if you were not close. To turn away a dear sister otherwise alone in the world must mean they are in dire financial straits. Or do you simply get on ill with her boorish husband?

MARY: Goodness, no! It’s nothing like that. They are quite comfortable, and Jacob is a lovely man. They are a lovely family.

MRS. HAWKING: Then what, then?

MARY: In truth… I didn’t fancy growing old as just Maiden Aunt Mary in some north country town. So when Catherine offered, I turned her down and said I wanted to make my own way of it.

MRS. HAWKING: I see.

MARY: I’m sure you must think me dreadfully silly.

MRS. HAWKING: Not at all. I do believe that’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard from a young woman in ages.

MARY: You do?

MRS. HAWKING: Very much so. It’s appalling, the choices young women are offered by this world. Sell yourself like a bushel of turnips into a marriage, or else everyone looks askance at you for failing to find a buyer.

MARY: The town spinster on the charity of her family.

MRS. HAWKING: An unfortunate to be gawked at.

MARY: People do often chide a girl of my age for it. Or worse, pity.

MRS. HAWKING: Because evidently the lack of a husband is a handicap akin to the lack of a right leg. So people seem to think. People like my sweet, well-meaning fool of a nephew. Never mind what you’ve got when you do have one.

(MARY looks at her curiously. MRS. HAWKING collects herself uncomfortably.)
 
MRS. HAWKING: But no more of that. I’ve kept you from your letter. My apologies. I am… unused to having someone about to talk to.

MARY: It’s never any trouble to talk, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: Good of you to say. Carry on, Miss Stone.

(MRS. HAWKING selects her book and exits. MARY returns to writing.)

MARY: Indeed this Mrs. Hawking is a strange one, Catherine, and perhaps more so even than at first I thought. But… I shall be intrigued to know just what sort of person she is.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #11.4 - A flashback from The Tailor of Riddling Way

Flashbacks are going to be an important part of The Tailor. The events and injustices of the past that were never revealed or made right drive the story in the modern day, and I want to depict those characters living out the events in a way that slowly reveals the entire picture. Here is a scene involving two of the Loring sisters, seventeen-year-old Bethany and twenty-five-year-old Emma, consulting a local skilled dressmaker by the name of Abigail Barrows, mother to our hero Tom, back during the end years of World War I.

As a side note, I am having a hard time casting some of my female roles. Miss Bethany I know I want to be played by niobien*; I think she'd have just the right sound for the role, and I also really want to direct her in a speaking part. But while I know the pool of talented actresses I am going to be picking from, I am having a hard time deciding who should play the rest of my female roles. I have never had such casting indecision in my life. Perhaps I should have people read for them, to see who actually does sound best. Frankly they're all good enough that I could just assign them randomly and the piece would come out, but casting is a process dear to my heart and I'd like to make the best match I can. I guess I'm spoiled for choice by having people with too broad a range of talent!

           SETTING: Loring’s End, 1917

BETHANY: Hello. Are you the seamstress?

ABIGAIL: I am. My name is Abigail Barrows. I hope you’ll find my work to your liking.

EMMA: Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Barrows. I trust you’ve been told Bethany here is soon to have her coming out ball?

ABIGAIL: I have, miss.

EMMA: She’ll be needing something special to wear. Something suitable for the nature of the event.

ABIGAIL: I very much understand. Something to make her seem more a woman than a girl.

EMMA: Exactly, thank you, madam.

ABIGAIL: I’ll just take your measurements, then, miss. Lift your arms, please.

BETHANY: Oh. Like this?

ABIGAIL: Thank you. I know just the thing. A straight skirt to lengthen the leg, a close-fitting bodice to flatter a delicate figure. The material will come dear, though, with the rationing…

EMMA: Not to worry. We have secured it already. Please, have a look at this bolt.

BETHANY: Do you think you can use it?

ABIGAIL: Oh, my! I haven’t seen so much fine silk since before the war!

BETHANY: Most decent people haven’t.

ABIGAIL: However did you get it?

EMMA: Our family deals in textiles of all varieties. Such are our spoils.

ABIGAIL: You have lovely taste. It will suit you well, Miss Bethany. I would suggest beading it in dark blue and ivory, to best set off the color. Beadwork is my specialty, you see.

BETHANY: That does sounds beautiful.

ABIGAIL: I’m very glad you think so. I will make sketches of the design for you and send them over. Did you want to talk about your wedding gown in this visit as well?

BETHANY: My what?

EMMA: I beg your pardon, Mrs. Barrows?

ABIGAIL: I’m sorry, it was something Mr. Loring said…

EMMA: What did our father say, Mrs. Barrows?

ABIGAIL: He said he wanted to engage me for more than just the ball gown. He wanted me to make Miss Bethany’s wedding dress as well.

BETHANY: Why would he tell you that? Emma, why would I need a wedding dress?

ABIGAIL: Perhaps I misunderstood…?

EMMA: No, I don’t think you did. Bethany, dear, I believe Father’s plans for you have become entirely clear.

BETHANY: Oh… oh, no. It’s that man, isn’t it? That man with the accent… Father is going to make me… oh, no.

EMMA: Heaven help us.

ABIGAIL: Did I speak out of turn?

BETHANY: (Breaks down sobbing.)

ABIGAIL: Oh, my… miss, whatever is the matter?

BETHANY: So it is true! He is selling me like a sheep.

ABIGAIL: Oh, miss, I… I don’t know what to—

BETHANY: Emma, what am I going to do?

EMMA:  Our brother warned me of this, but—

BETHANY: Rowan knew? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?

EMMA: Please, Bethany, it doesn’t matter now.

BETHANY: How could you keep this from me?

EMMA: I was waiting until the time was right! I was going to help you!

BETHANY: How?

EMMA: I— I don’t know yet. But not now, Bethany, this is a family matter.

BETHANY: Bother family matters, Emma! You all say family matters when you mean lies and silence and secrets! I won’t have any more of it! I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Barrows. But I don’t know what to do.

ABIGAIL: Not at all, child. If you’d like, you can tell me your troubles. There may be something I can do.

EMMA: Mrs. Barrows…

BETHANY: We must have help from somewhere, Emma.

EMMA: (Sighing) Yes. Yes, we must must.

ABIGAIL: Please, tell me. Perhaps… perhaps I can help.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #11.3 - a letter from Rowan Loring, in The Tailor of Riddling Way

ROWAN: To my dear sister Emma. In this, the last letter I may write before I ship out to meet my fortune in the war, a brother ought to send a fond and affectionate farewell to his closest and most stalwart sister. But I fear I must instead speak to you of more dire matters that somehow must be dealt with. It concerns, as so many things do now, our father’s current course, but just when I believed I had the depths of it, I discovered something darker still. His work is catching up with him, but rather than learn the error of his ways he seeks only to escape. I told him he would have to pay the piper he’s been dancing to, but even I didn’t dream it would happen like this. He meant to keep it secret until the deed was done, but I trust him with nothing anymore, so with some careful digging I have unearthed it. The payment he offers is Bethany, to sell her to that wretched partner of his like a cow at market. He intends to marry her off and see her shipped halfway across the world whether she will or no to protect his vile scheme. His own daughter, and a child at that. Emma, we cannot let him see this through. Something must be done, but I shall too soon depart for the front to handle this alone... which is why I must write to you, dear sister. It tears me that I can do nothing for Bethany myself, but I discovered this too late; I am due at my assignment within the week, and I must be there to meet the ship. Therefore it is you that must act where I cannot. Poor Constance is too starved for Father’s approval to defy him in anything, and dear Bethany is bright and brave but still too much a child to escape this on her own. There is no one else, Emma. You must get her away somehow, out of Father’s grasp, and safe from the man he wants to sell her to. I wish to God I had time to make some arrangement or plan, but I fear all I have to give is this warning. Forgive me, dear Emma, that I lay this burden on you and can be of no more help to you than that. Forewarned is forearmed, they say, so I hope I’ve given you that small advantage at least. But please, for our sweet little sister’s sake, do what you can to spare her being spent like coin to pay our father’s debt. I know I can trust you with this above any other, as I would trust you with my own child that is about to be born. Farewell, and Godspeed to you both. Signed, your loving brother, Rowan.

Recipe for Inaccessible Rice

Recently I made this complicated wild rice dish I learned from my mother for a couple of HTP functions, because the lovely enjoyed it so much. I was just typing up the recipe to give to her, and I thought why not post it here as well? I call it by the rather odd name of Inaccessible Rice, which certain parties will remember came from the first time I ever made it for a dinner party. It is a somewhat strange combination of flavors, so I commented to I believe Bernie and Kindness, who were with me at the time, that I was worried it might be "inaccessible" to some of my diners who I knew to be slightly picky eaters. They never let me forget that-- it was kind of pretentious of me to use that word --and to this day we refer to this dish as Inaccessible Rice. I think it's delicious, and kind of sophisticated too, with a lovely mix of color when you bring it to the table.

Ingredients:

• 2 cup mixed wild rice
• 1 ½ c water
• 1 Tbsp butter
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 cup golden raisins
• 1 cup pecans, crushed
• 4 scallions, chopped
• ½ c orange juice, fresh squeezed
• 2 tsp orange zest, grated
• 8 mint leaves, chopped
• 1/2 c olive oil
• salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Cook the rice according to your preferred method. I use the one on the rice package I buy, combining it with the water, butter, and salt. Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer, and then stir once. (ONCE!) Allow to cook for fifteen minutes, or until all the water is gone. Then stir it thoroughly and allow to cool, at least a little. Then mix with all the other ingredients. It is intended to be served cold, but it’s just as good hot if you prefer that. I like to serve it with chicken, but it is good with pretty much anything.

My broad and undying love for A Christmas Carol

Much as I love Christmas, there aren't many cheesy pop culture traditions that I like. I'm not into big tacky decorations, I despise popular Christmas music, I hate how consumerist and stuff-oriented it is. But I fucking love A Christmas Carol. I love the original story, and I cannot deny that I have enjoyed nearly every major film version I have ever seen.

The story has become so popular and famous that fact actually overshadows how great it really is. Beautiful and witty writing, with a playfulness that eases the possibly saccharine tone without undercutting the sentiment of the story. If you've never read it, I recommend that you do, if only for the opening paragraph, that is a really funny little stream-of-consciousness reflection on how incredibly dead Marley is, dead as a doornail, though why that's the deadest piece of ironmongery, Mr. Dickens really has no idea. :-)

It's almost silly how many of these that are special to me. I love Mickey's Christmas Carol, with Scrooge MacDuck, one of my all-time favorite Disney characters, playing the central role for which he was named. I love The Muppet Christmas Carol, starring Michael Caine with the lovely touch of Gonzo serving as the Charles Dickens-stand-in narrator. I love the solemn, serious, straight-up version made to showcase Patrick Stewart. I particularly love the TV movie version that came out in 2005 starring one of my most favorite actors Kelsey Grammer, with songs by Alan Menken, that is a well-made and truly moving piece of musical theater.

The way they cast their own characters in the story's roles really make it for me. Of course Kermit and Mickey play the softy role of Bob Crachit. Bean Bunny in the cameo as the boy in the street. I love Donald in the charmingly parallel role of Scrooge's nephew Fred. Moley and Ratty from Wind in the Willows as the two gentlemen from the charity. Scrooge's first boss "Fozziwig." Pete as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

It's such a charming story, very universal even though its setting is Christmas, about how sympathy and understanding for one's fellow man can redeem an old sinner, about keeping the spirit of goodwill toward men. Yeah, it's kind of cheesy, and certainly has been done to death. But I love the idea that there is pity and compassion buried in even the hardest heart, and that "a life can be made right."

I like this weird vintage Maidenform ad

I like this ad. I... don't really get it, but I like it. It's pretty and graphically bold, dynamic, interesting. But I don't know what they're trying to say here. Why would anyone use something that likens to in-your-underwear-in-public stress dreams to sell things? What is it supposed to mean that she's a "designing woman" (always hated that term) in her Maidenform bra? Is it... wish fulfillment? And the bra is the cause of it... somehow? I don't get it at all. Can someone explain this pretty but utterly bemusing vintage ad?

... Oh, my God! There are dozens of them! Some are about dreaming how pretty you are in your Maidenform, which makes sense to me, but others are of the same stripe as the one up top!

Is Maidenform supposed to, like, make all your dreams come true? At least... in your dreams? Wow, what a bra!

Sewing project progress: pink checked dress muslin, part V

This past weekend I sewed in the facings of my dress muslin. I'm fairly certain I didn't do it exactly right. The diagram in the sewing instructions was as clear as mud-- it looked to me almost like they were meant to be attached above the top part of the back and front pieces, but I know that's not what facings do, so I took my best shot. They did not seem to match up at the edges the way I expected. I think I was supposed to sew them together at the edges before I tried to put them in the dress, but they seemed to fit even worse that way, so I just laid each of them in separately and then tried to match them up as best I could. Then I ironed the two layers and pinned them together.

Thinking about it now, I should have realized that this operation was generic enough to look up on the Internet and get an idea of how it was supposed to work before I sewed it. Instead, dissatisfied with what I did, I only thought to find a tutorial afterward. I think what I should have done, if I understand what I read later in an article about putting facings into a sleeveless dress, is to put them right sides together, sewed them in place, and then turned them inside out like you do in so many other aspects of garment making. The video I watched also left the top of each shoulder unsewn and suggested, in a process that is still not a hundred percent clear to me, that you somehow pull the back of each shoulder piece through the front shoulder piece's unsewn top part such that they lay inside one another like larger and smaller tubes, then you sew just inside the lip of the whole tube you just formed. Then you turn it right side out again and you're supposed to have a clean hidden shoulder seam inside. If that makes any sense. I'm not sure I get it myself, especially how you're supposed to pull them through one another to make that tube. I think I at least understand it enough to give it a try and see if I can logic it out myself. The object of this project is to learn and do better in the future, so that's something.

As it was, I at least had the presence of mind to think about how I wanted the seams to look on the outside. I ended up clipping the seam allowance, folding each piece of edge over on itself, and pressing it flat. Then I sewed in down all the way around the edges from the neckline to down around the armholes. It isn't as nice as a turned edge might be, but at least from the outside it looks pretty neat.

Here's what the front facing looked like from the inside, though without the armhole edges similarly pinned.

And here's how the back facings looked, again before pinning the edges of the armholes. I accidentally interfaced the same sides of both back facings, meaning one side had to be laid interfacing side out as you can see, but I figured it wasn't a big deal since it was on the inside of the dress.

I just sewed the shoulder seams right sides together and flipped them. The results were not nearly as neat as the process's described above, but it's not terrible. At least from the outside, the dress looks okay. As I said, I got it to fit surprisingly well. All that remains is to hem it, and then I will model my not-hideous-but-still-very-cobbled-together first true finished handmade dress.

Also, as a sewing side note, I picked up another nice sheet to repurpose for material. I really like this one, with its black and gold stripes on a white background, and I think it would make a really cool button-down shirt.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #11.2 - Another scene from The Tailor of Riddling Way

I have settled on a new project I am very excited about. In order to scratch the theater-making itch without having to deal with organizing all the details of a production and a long rehearsal period, I have decided to make an audio drama. The script is coming along nicely, a sort of old-fashioned mystery I call The Tailor of Riddling Way. I still have to learn about the conventions of the genre, and figure out the technical logistics, but the script is coming along well. Here is another piece that I composed over the course of today. I've cast a handful of the number of roles I am going to need voices for, and this piece features Rowan Loring, the character I want for the talented . One of the best parts of dramatic writing is casting the people whose acting I like, and I am already excited just imagining it now.

ALICE: This house has always been full of secrets.

MRS. WARREN: I’m sure that’s no business of mine.

ALICE: But you’ve been with our family for years now.

MRS. WARREN: Yes, Miss Alice.

ALICE: Surely you remember something?

MRS. WARREN: Oh, I don’t know, Miss Alice.

ALICE: Please, Mrs. Warren… I just… please…

TOM: Mrs. Susan Warren, isn’t it?

MRS. WARREN: Yes, it is.

TOM: Are you by any chance a relation of Robbie Warren over on Deer Hill?

MRS. WARREN: Why, yes! He’s my nephew. Do you know him?

TOM: Him and my big brother used to be thick as thieves.

MRS. WARREN: Your brother is Luke Barrows? He and Robbie used to steal pies off my windowsill!

TOM: They always were rascals.

MRS. WARREN: How is Luke nowadays?

TOM: Very well; after the war he decided to stay in Europe. He’s got a nice English wife and a fine fat baby boy.

MRS. WARREN: Ah, God bless him. Lots of good young men never made it through that war.

ALICE: Like my father.

MRS. WARREN: Yes, miss. A true gentleman.

ALICE: He was a great hero.

MRS. WARREN: (Hesitantly) He was indeed, miss…

TOM: Yes? What is it?

MRS. WARREN: It’s just… everyone thought so well of Master Rowan, doing his duty by the country and all.

TOM: Of course. The family must have been proud of him.

MRS. WARREN: That’s just it. That’s what they said to everyone… but when he was shipping out, Mister Reginald didn’t want to let him go.

TOM: I suppose it’s natural for a man to be afraid for his son going off to war.

MRS. WARREN: Yes, but it wasn’t just like that.

ALICE: How do you know?

MRS. WARREN: Because… I heard them one night. It must have been the night that Master Rowan told his father he was enlisting. I was clearing the table after dinner. They were in Mister Reginald’s study, but I could hear them shouting, and soon they were moving through the house.

            (Flashback effect.)

REGINALD: You will not, sir! I forbid it!

ROWAN: I am a grown man, Father, you can forbid me nothing. Besides, it’s already done. I am an enlisted man. I ship out for France by the end of the month.

REGINALD: Have you lost your mind?

ROWAN: Have you lost yours? Do you know what it is you’ve done? You have made a deal with the devil!

REGINALD: You are being a naïve fool, Rowan. This is for the best interests of the family. Would you see us in ruins?

ROWAN: Some things are worth more than that, Father.

REGINALD: So you’ll throw your life away on some Godforsaken beach, for what? For principle? To teach me a Sunday school lesson?

ROWAN: Someone must do the right thing. If it will not be you, then it will be me.

REGINALD: This is madness! You are not some unoccupied gutter trash, you have responsibilities here!

ROWAN: I will have none of any obligations to you.

REGINALD: Your wife is expecting your first child!

ROWAN: I will not have that child growing up ashamed of the family it came from! There will be one Loring man that will not disgrace the name.

REGINALD: There will be no such thing!

ROWAN: Don’t be so certain. You’ll have to make good on your devil’s bargain soon enough.

REGINALD: What do you mean?

ROWAN: Just that we reap what we sew, dear Father.

REGINALD: If you think that you are going to do something—

ROWAN: And when that time comes, I will not be paying along with you. Oh, good evening, Mrs. Warren.

MRS. WARREN: Excuse me, sirs.

ROWAN: Not at all, Mrs. Warren. If you would be so good, I’ll be needing my train cases cleaned. I shall soon have some packing to do.

MRS. WARREN: Of course, Master Rowan.

ROWAN: Many thanks, madam. And now— goodnight, father.

REGINALD: This is not over, boy—

ROWAN: I said, goodnight.

            (Footsteps walking away. Door closes. Flashback effect.)

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #11.1 - The Tailor of Riddling Way, scene 1

SCENE 1

(A door opens and closes. A bell tinkles. Click of boots on wood flooring.) 

EMMA: Excuse me? Is the tailor in?

TOM: Indeed he is, ma’am.

EMMA: Are you Mr. Tom Barrows?

TOM: Yes, madam. Welcome to my shop. Who might you be? 

EMMA: I am Miss Emma Loring, of Loring’s End. 

TOM: Ah, everyone knows that name. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam. What can I do for you?

EMMA: I hadn't been aware you were in business.

TOM: I’ve only just opened my own establishment. I suppose it’s not well known that I’m here on Riddling Way just yet. 

EMMA: Perhaps. I am not much about town these days. 

TOM: How can I be of service?

EMMA: I am looking for someone who is able to make a very particular sort of gown. 

TOM: I’d be happy to lend my skills. You know, in my time here I’ve yet to have a commission for a gown. I see mostly orders for gentlemen’s suits these days.

EMMA: (Sharply) Are you not equal to the task?

TOM: Quite the contrary, madam. Most of my experience is in dressmaking. 

EMMA: So you are knowledgeable in the work. 

TOM: Learned at my mother’s knee. You couldn’t find a finer seamstress in a queen’s court. 

EMMA: Your mother, you say. 

TOM: Indeed. I’m afraid I have no samples of my work on the premises, but I can give the names of a number of satisfied customers if madam requires more than my word—

EMMA: Not at all, Mr. Barrows. I am convinced you are just the man for the job. I have a rather precise and delicate thing to ask of you. I require a dress to be made to very exact specifications.

TOM: Naturally. What sort of thing did you have in mind? 

EMMA: I may better show than tell you. You must forgive the quality of the picture. It is quite old.

(Crinkling of newsprint)

TOM: It’s a lovely piece. Silk satin, bias cut?

EMMA: Imported from China. You cannot see in the newsprint, but it was the most vibrant cornflower blue. 

TOM: And the beading… all those perfect lily shapes… it was an artist made this.

EMMA: An artist indeed. I would like this dress to be remade.

TOM: Copied, you mean?

EMMA: And here we come to my particular need. The copy must be precise. Identical, in fact.

TOM: Identical? With all respect, madam, with just a clipping from a newspaper… the cut and style I can manage, and I have a rare education in beadwork… but madam, I can find you fine satin, but I don’t know how I’ll match the color.

EMMA: That is no matter. I shall have a bolt of the proper material sent over.

TOM: And what size shall I make it? Is this gown for you, or someone else?

EMMA: You’ll find the measurements written on the reverse.

TOM: But the fitting--

EMMA: There will be no need for that. 

TOM: All right, then. 

EMMA: I know this is no simple task, Mr. Barrows, but I am certain you will manage despite it all.

TOM: I must tell you now this will come to quite an expense. 

EMMA: Cost is no object. Whatever is required, spare no effort. 

TOM: Very well, then, madam. I'll do what I can.

EMMA: I am glad to hear it. I am counting on you, young man. This is work of the very highest quality. 

TOM: I can see that.

EMMA: I expect no less.

TOM: I’ll do my very best.  

EMMA: I am confident that you will. Good day, Mr. Barrows.

TOM: Thank you, ma’am.

  (A door opens and closes. A bell tinkles. Click of boots on wood flooring.)

Bitter ballet notes

I hate all those little things I have that limit how well I can dance.

My damn tight knees plague me. I can only lift my leg so high in front of me, which means even though I have the strength to hold it up just so, the pain from the pulling in my tendons makes it so I sometimes can't quite do it anyway. Developpe devant, or when you lift your leg bent directly in front of you and then gradually fully extend it, is ridiculously difficult for me.

I am pretty strong. Fitter, I think, than most of the other students in my class. I think that helps some. But my flexibility everywhere except my hips is so poor that my progress is suffering for it.

My Achilles tendons aren't in pain anymore, but they seem different all the same. Maybe it's my imagination, but I feel like I'm not plieing as deeply lately. I make sure to stretch them very thoroughly before each time dancing but I think they're not as good as they were before I hurt them.

My turned ankle hasn't healed, at least not completely. It's still weak, and I can feel it uncomfortably every time I stand on just that leg. It's worse when I try to plie one-legged just that side. I'm afraid it's never going to be quite right, which bugs me.

I also get dizzy so easily. We were learning chene turns yesterday and I could not do more than two in a row without my head spinning. I know you're supposed to spot, but I suck at it, and end up staggering. I theoretically know how spotting works but I never seem to be able to do it right.

My arms are still ugly. I don't know why it's so damn hard for me to keep my shoulders relaxed and hold them bent in the proper way at the proper placement in relation to my body. But I am consistently criticized about how I do them wrong. It's not that complicated, but for some reason they always come out ugly.

I like both the Tuesday and Thursday night teachers. One is a middle-aged French woman thin as a whip, the other is a pretty young American with a soft figure and a face straight out of an Edwardian painting. She's nice-looking enough by today's standards, but I think if she'd lived a hundred or so years early she would have been considered a great beauty. They are both good teachers, though I think the French lady's instruction is a little more rigorous. Still, perhaps because I like that it feels a little easier, I prefer the younger woman even though I like both.

I have not made as much progress as I would have hoped to in twenty-one classes. I know this is something that's supposed to take years to get good at, but I feel like my body holds me back so much that lots of things don't improve no matter how hard I try. I don't mind it being hard, but I want the feeling of working toward a difficult goal that I can make progress with enough time and effort.

Minecraft humor

So Jared has succumbed to the Minecraft bug, and finally bought the full version. Unfortunately he keeps dying every time he makes any progress, so at the moment his little piece of the Minecraft world isn't very developed. He doesn't have a house yet, just a shelter he dug out of a hillside. I said he lived in a hobbit hole, but when he told me he doesn't really have anything in it, I said he was more like a caveman. When he started going on about how much work it takes to build a house and make yourself a bed and how the bare ground with no floor or carpeting isn't so bad, I was horrified and said he was a Minecraft hobo. So I took on the persona of his nagging Minecraft cave-wife, and went on about how he'd be eating raw chicken and punching sheep for wool without me to take care of him, and if he found any diamond he was NOT going to make some stupid tool with it, he was going to give it to me in thanks for all I put up with being his cave-wife. Oh, and how I should have married that nice Minecrafter over the hillock who had boots and a pair of shears already. He responded by wishing he'd stayed a bachelor with nobody nagging him to sleep in a bed already or not try eating rotten zombie meat just to see what it tasted like, and oh, if only an enderman would carry him away and spare him from his domestic hell. I seriously wish I recorded the conversation, because it was absolutely hilarious.



I should have married this Minecrafter. I bet he'd lay a carpet for me.

Friends in Pride and Prejudice!

A number of friends recently got the good news that they were cast in Theatre@First's upcoming production of Pride and Prejudice! Jared will be playing the role of Mr. Bingley, the handsome, amiable friend and foil to the acerbic Mr. Darcy. Tegan has been cast in the role of Jane Bennett, the sister of the heroine Elizabeth and the lady with whom Mr. Bingley falls in love. And Jenn will be featured in the dancing ensemble. I'm looking forward to see how the show turns out; Jared hasn't done much non-classical theater before. I think To Think of Nothing is his only contemporary piece, and that tries to emulate the must older style! So it'll be neat to hear him in something non-Shakespearean. The performances are at the Somerville Theater on March 23rd, 24th, and 30th at 8PM and then March 31st at 2PM. I hope you all can join me in coming out to see them!

New pattern

As a side note, I recently bought this pattern during a Vogue sale. I absolutely love the view in the photograph, with the wavy skirt and the lace overlay. I even like it in the white. It's probably still beyond my skill level, but I'd love to try it. I also could see myself wearing some of the other views, though the pictured one is by far my favorite. I really should looking into a good beginner sewing text, because there's so much I just don't know.

Sewing project progress: pink checked dress muslin, part IV, plus mysterious heartburn pain

Bad night yesterday. Went to the urgent care center to get my unhappy belly and chest pain checked out, and basically just got told to watch for signs of it worsening and was sent on my way. But I've been having heartburn-like pain in my solar plexus setting in in the evening for the last four days, pain that doesn't respond to the typical heartburn measures of Tums or Pepto or even ibuprofen. I wake up pretty much fine in the morning, but it's bad enough that it makes it hard to get to sleep. The doctor doesn't think there's anything really wrong with me that isn't just going to have to run its course, but because I felt okay when I was getting examined, like an idiot it didn't occur to me to ask what to do about the pain. So last night was spent tossing and turning because it hurt too much to relax enough to fall asleep.

Anyway. On a more positive note, I fitted my pink checked dress muslin and sewed up the side seams. Now, if I'd been doing this right from the start, I would have had a good way to transfer markings from the pattern onto my material, and then made minor adjustments to the basic pattern suggestions based on my own body measurements. I plan to do better in the future, as I have requested the tracing wheel and transfer paper that captainecchi* suggested for Christmas gifts. For now, I decided to kludge it. I held the dress up to myself and pinned it along my sides to make it conform to my shape. Then I unzipped it, took it off, rezipped it, and faintly connected the pins with a line of pen. I took the whole thing to the machine and sewed the sides, using those marks as my seamline.

Once sewn, I tried the thing back on. Damn if it didn't fit half bad! My kludgey method actually did make it conform pretty well to my shape, keeping all the darts and things in the right places. I made the skirt a little too narrow on the right side, making it impossible to pull it over my legs, but I just ripped it out to the hip, repinned it, and sewed it more carefully. Turned out fine. Imperfect, especially since the fabric is so thin it sometimes clings to the outline of my bellybutton (tacky, tacky, tacky) but overall not that bad. Much better than my first disaster of a dress attempt, which was so rushed and stupid that I can't believe myself.

I wasn't sure how to take a picture of this, since I don't want a shot of me wearing it until it's finished, but I couldn't think of any good way to display how it's sewn up. So I just draped it over a chair and took an oddly angled shot of it just for illustrative effect. You'll have to trust me that it makes sense until it's done.

Next step is to put in the facings and sew up the shoulders. That is seeming to be trickier than it first appeared.

Also, on another fabric-related note, what do we think of this?

On a whim I draped my sheer white striped curtain that I got at the thrift store over the empty curtain rod holders on my office window. It's just thrown up there, so I'd have to figure out how to arrange it more carefully, but do we like the idea? Does it work in that place? I do find myself wanting to put curtains up where the windows are bare...

Bid, bid, bid for Festival!

I have bid The Stand for Festival. It is a good game that is still pretty fresh to this player pool and I think it will work just fine. Good thing I did, because apparently there are not all that many bids as of yet and twenty-five more player spaces is still very welcome. That of course means the rest of you must step up and toss your hats into the ring. Have something that you want to debut? Bid it for Festival! Have something that hasn't come out in a while? Bid it for Festival! Know a game of someone else's that you've always wanted to run? Bid it for Festival! Last year we made such a fabulous schedule, of course you want to contribute to making this one just as great!

Of course, it is certainly not unusual for me to run two games for the weekend. As I mentioned, I did have several possibilities of my own games. Paranoia or Resonance could still come out. But it occurs to me that this past summer I was given the materials for a game of someone else's that I very much admired. Pending permission for an April run, that could be an interesting idea. Or perhaps satellite GMs could be engaged, again pending permission, if the schedule became desperate. I may not wish to lock myself into GMing twice if I don't have to-- who knows what interesting things there may be to play? --but I do love running games and bringing joy to fellow larpers, so I could probably be persuaded to make a second offering.

Fabric haul

Went fabric shopping this weekend, and finally found a place with decent prices that have more than just polyester. It's called Sewfisticated and it's in Somerville. If I remember correctly recommended it to me a while ago, but I only just got a chance to check it out. Jared took me there and I was really pleased to have finally found a place like I was looking for.

I mostly wanted to get some chiffon to make myself a ballet skirt. I was delighted at the place having real silk for reasonable prices per yard, but as this is technically a piece of athletic gear I decided synthetic would better serve. Kindness said I should go for something INTERESTING instead of boring and bland, and who am I to argue with his exquisite taste, so instead of a plain thing like my usual inclination, I chose this lovely black poly chiffon with a tan and magenta rose print.

I also picked up some black canvas to make a pocket on Jared's apron for practically nothing.

And this huge chunk of weathered tab leather just because I loved it and it was only ten bucks. Don't know what I'll do with it, but some cool costume might come of it.

I read a great sewing blog called Male Pattern Boldness, and the author Peter always uses thrifted bed sheets and other flea market cloth pieces for muslins. It means the price per yard is minuscule. I thought this was a great idea, and today I found two neat things I think I can use just for that purpose. The first is a sheer white curtain with great silky stripes.

And a big fabric swath of white with little blue squares. I think it's actually just fabric, though I have no idea what kind. Poly or a very cheap cotton? Some kind of blend?

I don't know what they'll be for, but I look forward to experimenting!

Ugly pie, ugly day

Today is a lousy day. My whole body aches, has ached since yesterday afternoon, probably a side effect from the tetanus-diphtheria-pertussis vaccine I had to get for Lesley. My stomach is all messed up and I'm afraid to eat anything for fear of setting it off. And every little thing seems to just be going wrong. The way things are going I'm going to feel too lousy to go to ballet today, which would really be the icing on the goddamn cake.

I made an ugly pie yesterday. To use up more of the homemade feta, I made a bowl of spanikopita filling out of cheese, spinach, onions, and nutmeg and spread it out in a pie plate. Then I laid a probably improperly treated piece of puff pastry over it. I tried to watch the Good Eats on puff pastry to figure out how I should handle it, but by that point I was feeling so out of it I couldn't really focus. I just kind of threw it together in hopes of getting it done. All I could manage was to try to smooth the seams together, dock the top a little, and lay it over the filling. I didn't even bother to trim it. Tasted okay, I guess, probably a little more gooey inside than I wanted, but it looked particularly ugly.

On another pie-related note, the other day on a whim I bought a pie bird. They're supposed to help prevent the problem of when your top pie crust sets before the filling inside completely cooks down, leaving you with a big empty dome. I guess the bird is supposed to support the filling up close to the top. It also vents steam through the hole in its little beak. Alton Brown endorses the use of them. Cute little thing, don't know if I'll actually use it.