We've Got Mail!

I think one of best things about living in Arizona is the freedom that seems endemic here. The "Old West - Anything Goes" mentality is strong in the desert.

Now I'm not just talking about being able to make off-road vehicles street-legal or being able to pay your state taxes directly by check to your local elementary school if you feel like it (although those are very cool things in my book). I'm talking about freedom of artistic expression.

Case-in-point: this weekend we ventured with friends to the tiny town of Chloride (pop.215) where tucked back in the hills lies 40 foot murals painted on the rocks.

Roy Purcell is the artist.

He painted these back in the 1960's and then repainted them 3 years ago.

Back in San Diego we lived in a subdivision that was closely regulated by a vigorous (some may say "overly vigorous") homeowner's association that routinely (as in twice a day) walked by all 148 homes looking for infractions.

The color you painted your garage could only be selected from a palate of 10; trees in the front yard were mandatory and had to be a certain size; and heaven help you if you wanted to build a shed in your back yard that no one could even see above the fence - that took weeks of paperwork and an act of Congress!

In fact, when I went to install a new mailbox back there, I had to submit a written request 30 days ahead of time and wait anxiously for approval from the HOA board.

Fast forward to our Arizona home and it's a completely different story!

Havasu is known (or should be known) for its unique mailboxes. Oh sure, each one fits within USPS regulations and yet they express the individual homeowner's personality. Let me take you on a quick tour of our neighborhood by way of illustration...

Saguaro cacti are a popular theme.

There's actually a lighthouse society here in town that maintains scale replicas of famous lighthouses around the lake.

The scorpion is very clever and the next door neighbor has a large mouth bass mailbox.

Seriously...ANYTHING goes here!

So you can see that I would not be content with just any old mailbox.  I had the old ugly, clunky mailbox from the last house (part of our staging for sale was installing a fresh new mailbox) so I thought a stucco deal would be nice.




Stucco mailboxes come in many shapes and sizes.



You can match your house if you want - right down to the roofing tile.

 That is until I really started researching stucco boxes. Purchasing one starts at $300. Building my own would involve pouring a small slab, installing post anchors ($10-15 each), wood, lath, stucco....it was adding up fast so I ditched that idea.

Since we love the Old West and I hadn't seen any covered wagon mailboxes (although cacti and cowboys feature heavily around town) I decided I would try to make one around our old mailbox.

In keeping with my lack of budget for this project, the next door neighbor cheerfully donated scrap wood from old pallets he'd chopped up to burn and a tarp that was threadbare in spots.

I have promised to help reupholster his outdoor seat cushions in return.

I spent time cutting wooden wheels from the scraps on the scroll saw and I only broke one blade during the process.

I started by drilling holes and then inserted the scrollsaw blade...32 times...ugh!

Dave's job was to make the mailbox solid on its post (it had wobbled embarassingly at the other house - part of the reason we had to move). He bolted and screwed and bolted some more until the thing was solid as a rock...or maybe pebbles.

That's Dave's expression when he hears there's a chocolate treat reward for his efforts.

Then the search was on for metal coat hangers - since Dave retired, there's no more dry-cleaning so our supply was low. He was able to scrape up 5 old ones and so I set to bending them into shape.

Couldn't find matching coat hangers but who will notice?

Then I chopped up the good bits of the old tarp and sewed them into the wagon top.

I painted the old broom-handle top to look like a barrel...if you use your imagination and squint.

The next step in construction of the wagon was the lettering. USPS requires that addresses be at least 1 inch tall but I didn't want to ruin the effect of the old weathered wood with stick-on numbers so I searched online for a good Old West font and hand-painted the sides.

I had to include the pointing finger that is on every old playbill from the Old West.

Then came the cussing...I mean digging.

Apparently, Arizona is 2 inches of topsoil on top of 7 feet of concrete - who knew? So I began the night before diligently soaking the spot the post would go - right behind the old mailbox post.  Then I started digging...and hit the concrete (they call it caliche - which is Mojave for "concrete" no doubt).

So I stopped digging and moved the hole over 18 inches.

The rule in Arizona (according to the natives) is, "If you dig and hit a rock, don't try to dig it out - move your hole."

You can see my first hole and then the second...

I think this might be why everyone here is so flexible and laid back.

So I dug...and watered...and cussed...and dug...

It's only 18 inches deep but feels like 4 feet!

Then I hit "THE ROCK".

SIDE NOTE: When I called AZ Blue Stake to have the utilties marked so we didn't accidentally dig through a power line and take out the whole neighborhood, the kindly lady on the other end of the line asked me if I would be using explosives. I had laughed and assured her we were simply installing a new mailbox.

I wish I'd said yes.  I could have used some explosives. It took me more than an hour to scrape away enough dirt and gravel to get THE ROCK loose (it also took the use of the neighbor's pry-bar).

It might not look like much here but I swear it's like an iceberg - this thing would NOT budge!

Finally I loosened the surrounding soil and the hole was deep enough! Luckily, Dave had stopped by a friend's house on his way back from the dermatologist (his lame excuse for not helping me dig) and brought Eddie home to help pour the concrete (so I forgave him).

The men made quick work of the mailbox assembly and concrete pour.

I LOVE my new mailbox!

Even the postman (who is actually a woman) thought the new mailbox was charming.

The Most Expensive Quilting Class I'll Ever Take

Yesterday was the event that quilters all over the Southwest dream about all year - the Quilting at the Lake retreat is a week long orgy of all things that quilters hold dear - think of it as a week of "Chatting over Batting."

I have been looking forward to this event because I'm new in town and a class is a great way to meet new people without feeling like a complete outsider - we're all learners, right?

Well the ladies at this convention don't believe in outsiders so I was welcomed immediately - the local quilting guild is super friendly and super fun.

But as for all being learners? Well let's just say there are different levels.

Case in point - I have often been teased for owning two sewing machines - in this crowd I was the "poor cousin" for owning ONLY two and to use another allusion in the same sentence (to wake up the English teachers reading) the "kid from the wrong side of the tracks" for the age of my machine.

I brought my "good" machine to class (I wanted to make a good first impression after all). It's an 18 year old Elna that was top of the line. "Was" is the operative word here. These ladies are sewing on sewing machines - Vikings and Pfaffs that cost $6,000! These suckers could put a man on the moon, they've got so many features.

The teacher, Linda, was very gentle when she saw my machine. Imagine the expression you'd use when talking about how someone's dear old grandma needs a seat near the window for her crop-dusting tendencies...sort of sad but understanding too.

So Linda placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and said that I had better use her machine for the class or I'd become so frustrated the other students wouldn't be able to hear her directions over my sobbing.

She was probably right.

It was a "Trapunto" class which I think originated back in the middle ages from mead-drinking quilters who slurred the words, "Trap under"...of course I'm just guessing, but the goal of Trapunto is to sew puffy bits into the quilt as you go along and use other stitching methods to create designs using shadows. It's a very elegant technique and requires no piecing of fabrics so there's no "country quilt" or "patchwork" effect at all.

Linda is a terrific teacher - her background is in art education so she was able to take the expert quilters in the class to the next level (it seemed like I was seated at the advanced table inadvertently) and simultaneously drag along the ones at the bottom like me.

Let me just explain that although I make quilts - I don't "quilt" them. I tie the layers together with yarn or tiny embroidery stitches and that's it. The quilting part of quilting scares me. Moving all that fabric through a sewing machine is like wrestling an octopus into a bag and then trying to give him a tattoo. It's not one of my skills.

But after Linda's class...I think I'm willing to try.

We started by tracing the pattern using a disappearing ink. This stuff is supposed to last 48-72 hours and can be washed away sooner...mine of course was disappearing as I sewed - could have been my drool over the Lamborghini I was sewing on...

Let me just add in here that I was sewing on a Diamond Viking. They also have a Sapphire, and a Ruby. Linda works with dealers and teaches classes for new sewing machine owners...I asked if they made a cubic zirconium model - more in my price range...nope. Figures.
Then we stitched using wash away thread - again I never even knew there was wash away thread (seems like something you'd sell to people you were trying to bilk doesn't it?).

The wash-away thread is sewn right over the marker - I used a fine point marker which was almost impossible to see - mistake #4.

The next step is to cut away the batting without cutting your fabric - harder than it looks actually.

I was good at the cutting away part - I have a long history of sewing the wrong things together so have honed my cutting skills.

Ironically, after you cut away that batting you flip the thing over you add MORE batting...and then you use ever pin you brought to keep the thing from sliding and start sewing with real thread.

The grid sewing was done in ONE go! It was Harold and His Purple Crayon in stitching.

The last step in the process is the free form "scribbling". Linda showed the class how to do it using my quilt block - she made it look soooo easy. It sounds easy doesn't it? I mean, tiny children can scribble...I am embarrassed to say that I actually called Linda over to help with my stitch length only to learn that there is no stitch length and my odd long stitches were due to my crappy scribbling technique...sigh.

Eight hours after I entered the room, I had completed one square. Sure, I'd started with the wrong machine, the wrong batting, the wrong thread, the wrong marking pen, not enough pins, no blue tape, and a deficient set of quilting skills but I finished with the start of an addiction...

I love the result! Very elegant - with 16 more days and a new machine, I'd have a lap quilt.

So my $80, lunch-included class is going to cost me thousands...when I buy a new machine...shh don't tell Dave.

Frugal Meditation

You can probably guess that I'm not terrific at meditation...okay...I'll confess that I pretty much suck at it.

I can't help it - my mind ALWAYS wanders - like Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love - I find myself decorating imaginary rooms or making "to-do" lists when I should be emptying my thoughts.

But I do recognize the value of meditation and I know I could give it a proper try if only I had the right furniture...

You see, my niece likes to meditate AND she has the coolest chair ever to do it in (which is probably her secret - right?).

Her chair is made by a company called "Zen By Design" and these folks have really done a nice job. It's only fair that they be compensated for their superior construction except that I can't actually afford the $429 plus tax and shipping for a pasttime I'm not particularly good at.

Their chairs are gorgeous!

So when my other yoga-loving friend Barb suggested that we make our own by modifying old chairs, I was on board!

As previously mentioned, my discretionary bank balance is a bit anemic these days, so my goal was to make a meditation chair with as little cash out of pocket as possible.

Here's how it went:

I spent $5 for the ugly 1980's era dinette chair at a yard sale.

This beauty had been outside a while so all foam and fabric had to go.

I spent another $7 for cross dowels and hole plugs that it turned out I already had but of course couldn't find when I needed them. Then I hacked off the legs to shorten the chair and repositioned the seat to give the correct yoga tilt.

I decided a separate cushion would slide me right onto my meditating butt so I set out to craft an upholstered seat instead.

I cut out a huge butterfly shape from some scrap chipboard.

Now my knees will have a place to be when I sit cross-legged.

Then I glued together strips of scrap foam from my last bench project. The best part was using my new electric knife to cut the foam to fit the chipboard!

Yes, I thoroughly washed the knife afterwards - in case you stop by for dinner sometime and see me carving roast beast.

The bad part about using scrap foam is that the joints were easily visable through the seat fabric so I needed batting. I scouted around the house and happened on a quilt I'd made a few years back that had turned out to be too itchy to use - BINGO!



I absolutely LOVE my upholstery stapler - it's may favorite tool ever!

 I used scrap upholstery fabric for the cushion. I'd cut up an old broom to get the dowel I needed for the back support. Then I wrapped it with scrap foam and the result looked like something from a failed marshmallow experiment. So I wrapped it with blue painter's tape.

It's mostly even...

This was supposed to form the low back support...or in my case - sciatic support since I forgot to calculate the height of the seat cushion when I drilled the broom handle...sigh.

Finally, I placed my $12 chair facing the lake with the sunrise in view to my left...and discovered the secret to meditation...

I tried facing the sunrise but it's blinding.

...a furry friend.

Huckleberry loves how easy it is to hop into my lap.

A Christmas of Disasters

You've probably have had your fill of Christmas miracle stories so sit back and relax while I regale you with my tiny tale of Christmas disasters.

I promise there will be no shining stars, no magic healing, and no ghosts of Christmas past...nor will I rely on family feuds as a source for Christmas disorder...oh no...my Christmas disasters are on a whole other level.

It all began with a gentle snowfall that soon melted into rain. Shortly after that the sun shone through the clouds and a gentle stream trickled down our street.

That's quite a snowmelt, I'd thought to myself as I watched the water flow. I'd noticed it a couple of days before Christmas after the big snow storm. I'd even made a mental note to be wary of the water as night fell - it was sure to be a river of ice.

But it never did freeze.

Burst water-mains don't freeze...they just pump out water - hour after hour, day after day.

Because I am an alert observer of all things around me, I noticed the water flow at once.

Because I am an idiot, it never occurred to me to look for the origin of the water which happened to be a crack in the pavement right in front of my cabin.

I discovered my error early Christmas morning when there "arose such a clatter"...no tiny reindeer...just a large grumpy elf with a jack-hammer and three of his surly elf-friends.

You can see the spray of water over the edge of the truck - 10 feet in the air!

Another neighbor had called in the leak so I felt the least I could do was offer these worker-elves some Christmas treats. I'd just baked some old-fashioned oatmeal toffee (a treat from my childhood) that would be perfect...except that my lack of high-altitude cooking skills had somehow transformed my tasty treat into oatmeal concrete.

Just getting it out of the pan was a nightmare. Knives were useless so I employed a combination of chiseling and water.

It took me 3 hours to dissolve and scrape my way to the bottom of the pan.

To his credit, Dave stopped short of advising me to take it out to help the men PATCH the leak...he's well-aware that domestic violence increases around the holidays - no doubt due to cooking commentary from unthinking husbands.

I baked up another batch being careful to extract the oatmeal toffee right after it came out of the oven this time. Sadly, by the time it was done, the elves had completed their task and headed for home.

Yummy on round two!

All things good and bad happen in threes, right? Christmas disaster #3 was the Beef Goulash I cooked for dinner...

Looks yummy enough...

It smelled divine...and it looked divine...but the taste? What's the opposite of divine? So I set it out in the snow...


I was trying to cool it enough to refrigerate...maybe I'd had too many Christmas cocktails...

 Meanwhile back at the ranch...er...desert...in our parallel universe, the pavement was opening up and water began to leak...


This time I called the city myself...



I am at War with Sweden...

Or at least part of Sweden...most specifically Ikea...and particularly the woman on the helpline who actually laughed when I asked if they could replace a seat cover that had literally disintegrated in the wash the first time I cleaned it.

This looks like a cat had a panic attack inside the pillow case - no cats were harmed - it's just an expression.

"You aren't supposed to actually wash them," she'd chortled over the phone. I could just imagine her re-telling my story over lingonberries and meatballs in the lunch room.

"Okay, never mind replacing it - can I purchase another one?" I'd asked.

Another round of laughter...

After the hilarity died down, she was able to gasp over her giggles that I could purchase a new cover for $50. Now I'm not saying that $50 is a bad price but for a $99 chair it seems a bit out of proportion. Plus I just need a cushion cover...

After hanging up the phone (I may have forgotten to say goodbye) I re-checked their website. Yup - right under care instructions...the first line is "Do Not Wash". Dang. If my Swedish was better, I probably would have have known that "TULLSTA" actually means "Disintegrating". Why did I take French in school?

I was in a bit of a hurry because this is the chair the Chihuahuas use to get into bed. Their dirty footprints were the reason I'd washed the dang thing in the first place. So I was stuck with whatever upholstery fabric I had left-over...

So gold it was...and it kind of goes with the cream chair...

The first step was to salvage the old zipper.

Notice how the zipper is still SECURELY attached...figures.

It, of course, was ironically sewn in with industrial thread suitable for parachute seams. I was cutting each individual stitch to break the thing free.

Then I made a rough pattern from the pillow foam - I'd tried to use the old cover at first but gave up quickly. It was like trying to trace a hairball.

Ready to add the zipper.

I added in the old zipper and sewed everything together inside out.

Should have opened that dang zipper while I was sewing.

I'd forgotten to sew the zipper in the open position so there was some gnashing of teeth (mine and the zipper's) but I was finally able to get it open, turned right side out and on the cushion.

The finished cushion cover passed muster by the inspection committee.

Inspectors Golly and Huckleberry give their stamp of approval!

Squeaky Faucets and Other Tragedies

I think houses must age on a special scale the way dogs do. We bought the cabin back in 2002 and for the first three years it was shiny and new. Year 4 was like an awkward acne-filled adolescence - in fact we needed a fresh coat of stain to disguise the sun-faded blotchy appearance of the siding.

Years 5 and 6 were the fun-filled "college years" - we added fencing, a new deck, retaining walls, and solar lights.

Year 8 must be the early 40's in human years. Nothing horrible is failing just lots of minor things that add up to major irritation. For instance:

1. The skylight leaked this year (2x) and was fixed in 20 minutes by a skilled roofer and his handy can of goop (2x).

2. The sliding glass door has developed hot flashes (I can empathize) so has condensation between the panes. This was covered by the lifetime warranty but when the man came to fix it this week it seems they'd hired someone with dyslexia and our 31" wide door had been manufactured as a 13" window. The installer remarked that he thought it was a very narrow door when he loaded it on his truck...so we'll be viewing the mountains through mist until January.

3. The bathroom faucet squeaks. Not quietly either - loud squeaks that wake up people in other rooms. I knew I should call a plumber but after watching a couple how-to videos on the HGTV website I was convinced I could fix it myself...

I took a picture of the faucet with me to the hardware store.

The nice (and very patient) man sold me a tube of plumbers grease.

I squished the grease in and around every part I could get to.

And darned if it didn't appear to be fixed at first...

So I've ordered the replacement valve online...sigh.


4. The last thing is probably more a product of my 40's than the cabin's - I am having trouble seeing to cook in the evenings. My first idea was to eat out instead but I was placing my Weight Watchers lifetime membership in jeorpardy. The answer was to install undercabinet lights.

My first attempt was installing LED lights - but they just weren't bright enough and there was no easy way to link them together. So back to the hardware store (no Home Depot or Lowe's up the mountain). Luckily there are two hardware stores so I avoid the "back for a third time" embarassment by frequenting both.

This time I purchased the Xenon lights. They are bright enough - in fact they have two settings which is really a nice feature.

SO I drilled the holes to pass the wires through.

Then I accidentally knocked down the wallpaper I had installed on a whim when the cabin was a baby.


I did have a stash of wallpaper paste (I have no idea what teh original project was for that) but a few swipes with an old paintbrush and the wallpaper was stuck back where it belonged.

Screwing the lights into the cabinet bottoms went quickly. But I hadn't accounted for the loose wires connecting the lights so back to the hardware store (the other one of course) for wire clips...sigh.

Those of us in our 40's and now ready for a nap.

Santa Baby...It's COLD Outside!

Most of you know that we haven't celebrated family Christmas on December 25th in the last decade. What started as a way to get out of fighting over the kids with the ex's turned into a unique method for taking the stress out of the holidays.

Celebrating on a conflict-free day means treasuring all of the time together with family, food and fun (and the stores are open if I forget to buy brown sugar or batteries - not for use in the same recipe of course).

This year, it will be tomorrow so I'm writing to you on our Christmas Eve. Things are going to be different this year...since we sold the house in Encinitas, Christmas will be up at the cabin. We get to create a whole set of new traditions...not the least of which involves my inability to master high altitude baking...

On a more positive note - I wanted to share some of the decorations we hung this year:

For the first time in 8 years, Dave's childhood Santa (circa 1965) is out on the new deck (lashed to the spindles to withstand the wind that had him airborne when we tried him on the front porch). He doesn't seem to mind the snow...his single light-bulb does a pretty good job of melting it.

We went with window wreaths on the cabin windows - which is our way of avoiding borrowing an extension ladder to hang lights along the gutters - clever huh?

Part of moving was letting go of all the things that fit the last house including the 9 foot tree. The cabin is tiny so the new tree is a bit spindly but not quite to the Charlie Brown stage.

I found a spot for the Christmas village and should be able to vacuum up all the plastic snow by spring...right?

So tonight as we nestle all snug in our beds we probably won't be envisioning dancing sugarplums (I for one, don't even know what one is). But we will be keeping an eye out for Santa...to make sure he's still on the deck!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!