Here's what I've been working on today and as I tore up the silk fabric to make this, I suddenly remembered a concerned customer asking me, well...isn't this scarf going to shed?  Or leave lint?  Or (I can't believe she said this) fall apart?

Ah, no.  How do I know this?  Because   I wear black.  Nearly every day, I have on black/dark jeans or black capris--depending on the weather--so that's what I wear when I work on my scarves.   If they were going to create a lint storm, I'd have the evidence on my lap.

Fortunately, my customer was open-minded enough to just go ahead and wear the scarf she bought from me.   She was pleased that (1) it did indeed hold up and (2) it generates many compliments.


The reason I thought of this while working on this particular scarf is because I used a type of silk I have not used before and I cut it in a way I have not cut silk fabric before.  It did leave lint on my cutting board.  I had to shake the fabric out in my front yard before I could continue.  Then I made the scarf and it was fine.  Another thready crisis averted.

I guess the next time I get a concerned customer, I will direct her to this blog post.  But what about the people who drool over my scarves, eye the threadiness cautiously, then don't buy without asking me for reassurance? I suppose that sort of thing happens a lot to any seller.

< Silk Bamboo is the name of this scarf.  There's no bamboo in it.  That's just the name.

dj runnels
Life's an Expedition on Etsy.

Life, death, friendships and other ships.

There's a sickening jab that pierces your heart when you learn that an old friend has died. The pain is no less when the friend is someone you haven't seen in a long time. And the pain is no easier to process when you learn of their death a year after it happened.

John Krevey was a handyman for a landlord in Rhode Island. The landlord was an important figure in my life, yet years later, I find that I remember far more moments with John. And certainly the memories are more pleasant ones.

John had a gift for taking a complex, painful scenario and slapping a healthy layer of common sense on it, like slathering a sandwich with the right amount of crunchy peanut butter. And I always thought that no matter how difficult the problem, peanut butter can fix it, at least a little.

Case in point: My boyfriend's wannabe girlfriend gave my name and phone number to another guy in an effort to break up my relationship. I knew nothing of this until the potential blind date called me. I was stunned. Didn't know what to say to the guy. What kind of girl would do something so manipulative? What was I supposed to say to this guy she had used as her pawn? I fumbled through the phone call. Afterwards, I angrily told my boyfriend what this wannabe girlfriend had done. I think he shrugged or mumbled something. This led me to believe that the BF had actually encouraged the wannabe GF to set me up on a blind date to distract or get rid of me. I indignantly told the BF this was deceitful behavior and cruel to both me and the blind date.

Then I told John Krevey about it. John laughed.

"Now, see, here's what you should have told [the BF]," John said in his slow, casual voice, almost a drawl. "You should have said, 'Wow! I went out on a date with that guy and he was terrific! Really good-looking, funny, a great guy. I had the time of my life. Please tell [wannabe girlfriend] thank you. She really did me a favor.'"

It's not that John was devious by nature. But when he experienced devious people, he knew how to play their game, work around them or at least mess with them. For all his boyish looks and countrified charm, he was not phased by con artists. And he knew months before I did that I should break up with this worthless boyfriend and find someone honest, straight-forward and deserving of my affection. (I finally did and I'm married to him.)

This and other John Krevey encounters and snippets of wisdom have stayed with me over the years. So a few days ago, when I was zipping through some Google+ posts and saw somebody with a last name similar to Krevey, I spontaneously Googled John's name. I had done this several times in the past without finding him. This time, the auto-finish feature not only finished his name, it prompted obituary. Not a good sign.

Whereas once I tried and tried and could not find the guy, now the internet is swarming with hits for John R. Krevey. He became an electrician and started his own business, R2 Electric. He resurrected a rusty lightship, refurbished it and brought it to a Manhattan harbor, a process that took years to accomplish. Once there, he began a campaign to bring life back to a neighborhood that apparently used to look like something out of a Marlon Brando movie, On the Waterfront. John earned the respect and love of many mariners and New Yorkers. He deftly dealt with bureaucratic red tape and...well, con artists of a sort who didn't want him to have that boat there, let alone turn it into a floating restaurant. He nurtured the ambitions of one Reid Stowe, who achieved fame for his "1000 Days at Sea" voyage. He won local awards that he accepted in his "aw shucks" kind of voice. He married and had two children. And one week, when he took his grown son on a vacation to Santo Domingo, he died of a heart attack, leaving behind a devastated family, countless friends and a saddened community.

Fast forward a year. And I find out, all in the same minute, where John Krevey has been and what wonderful things he has been doing. And that he not only passed away, but has been gone for over a year. Okay, it's over and done, but the heart of a friend does not use logic in these matters to argue away the shock and grief. He is still my friend of long ago, as if no time had elapsed.

In my heart, this is the John Krevey for whom I bought a birthday cake. The man who kept a bicycle in his apartment. The man I painted rooms with and had many a philosophical discussion with.

"Look at this." John Krevey pointed to a hole made in a window shade from a decorative pull cord. "Now a cord like that is always going to leave a hole." He deftly retrieved a white plastic device resembling a wide money clip, about 1 1/2 x 3 inches, from his jeans pocket. "See, this is all you need." He quickly slipped the plastic clip onto the end of the window shade and centered it. Then he opened and closed the shade by grabbing the plastic clip. Next he slipped the plastic device to the right and it came off the shade. It left no marks on the shade, he pointed out. "You can take it with you and put it on any window shade." To my artsy decorator's eye, the gadget was plain and unremarkable. But its portable nature appealed to my nomadic soul. And John, who had a knack for seeing through complexity and b.s. of all kinds, had impressed upon me the pragmatism of it.

After almost a year of being in John's acquaintance, I left Rhode Island. I tried to stay in touch with most of my friends, but I lost contact with John.

"Whatever happened to John Krevey?" I asked my ex-boyfriend within three months of moving away. "He didn't answer the letter I sent him."

"He went home," the ex-boyfriend told me.

Just that. He went home. Where? His home state? What town? Did he have an address? Where is he working? No information. My heart sank. Yet again, my so-called boyfriend had let me down. He had let John Krevey slip from both of our lives and now we had no way to find him. He had skittered away taking his plastic window shade pull, his bicycle and his no-nonsense philosophy with him. I suspected I would never see him again. This proved to be correct.

Maybe one day, one of John Krevey's friends will read this and smile. Yeah, that was him. That slow, unassuming speech of his that she describes...yes, I remember that. She writes about pulling that window shade pull out of his jeans pocket. I wonder if his jeans were rolled up at the bottom?

I am smiling as you think this. I envision those rolled up jeans as he ambles towards me with his bow-legged walk. I see him mentally churning a little soliloquy. He shoves one hand in a front jeans pocket and shifts his weight to one side. A boyish grin, something like that of Harrison Ford.

I found this video of him accepting an award.  I watch in silence, marveling at how he looks the same.  Then I whisper, "You were right, John. Those were good window shade pulls. John Lennon was more talented than Paul McCartney. Not so sure about the Elvis stuff. There are some paint colors you should not use in a room because they just don't make sense. My boyfriend in Rhode Island was an absolute jerk. Rusty ships are worth saving. Red tape is worth fighting."

Update July 9, 2014: I am thinking about John a lot today and feeling down.  But I realize that I was lucky to have known him.  He was unique.  And I don't think I've met terribly many unique people over the years.  Better to have known him and lost him than never to have known him. 

dj runnels

How to make felted wool coasters in 700 easy steps.

It's easy to make felted wool coasters following these simple steps.

First, find that awesome handwoven wool poncho that you made.  (I've tried to find a photo of it.  It's gone. Just trust me, it was amazing.  It was hanging in a tree with fall foliage fluttering around it.)


List the poncho online for $80.
Wait a year or so for it to sell.
Get impatient.
Unlist it.
Run it through the washer and dryer (hot water wash, then cold water rinse, then hot dryer) and voila! It becomes somewhat felted and fluffy.
Plop it on the floor to see how it looks.

Hmmm. It looks pretty nice, but it is fuzzy.  That won't feel good when exiting the shower with wet feet.

So take the $80 poncho rug and repeat that whole hot water wash, cold water rinse, trip through the hot dryer.  Ten times.

Now it's a lot smaller, a lot thicker, and you can cut it with scissors.

Use a ruler, cutting mat, pair of scissors, slide rule, calculator, home theater rear projection system, string cheese, broom handle, chicken wire, duct tape, styrofoam and a socket wrench to make perfectly even squares.  When they turn out less than perfectly even, keep trimming them until they are almost too small and you wasted all your effort.

Now cut out some letters from some other felted wool that you may or may not have felted deliberately and I do not want to talk about that, so just leave it alone, okay?

Sew those letters to your small-to-medium sized (but very thick!) coasters and you have:

Make several sets. List 'em in your Etsy shop. Wait, no, don't do that! This is MY idea! Mine, I tell you!

dj runnels
Life's an Expedition on Etsy.

Making what is "good" v. making what sells.

Every day, I face the same dilemma. Should I make what people want? Or make what I know will sell? Or should I make what I know is good, even if it doesn't sell? Or both? I am sure you know what I'm talking about, no matter what line of work you are in.

Well, here is what it is like as a yarn designer: I learned years ago which gauges and color combinations sell the best. If I want to have a more lucrative business, I will stick with purples, teals and greens. People scarf those up in a heartbeat.

But in my heart, I know that the average yarn buyer does not necessarily look good in purple. It takes a certain complexion and hair color range to wear it, e.g.: Women of Color or Caucasian brunettes with brown eyes and dark hair. A pale blonde, on the other hand, does not really wear purple well; purple wears her. A pale blonde often looks outstanding in peach. But peach yarn is the kiss of death in terms of online yarn sales. I have made peach color combinations that took over a year to sell out. 

And peach is far from being the least popular. Pastels in general do not sell as quickly as bright colors. Gray is worse. I have a wool blend yarn called Paiolo that I think is to die for, but it is gray and copper, so it sells slowly. And gray is nothing--NOTHING--compared to maroon and navy. I rue the day I created a maroon, navy, silver yarn that echoed the New England Patriots colors. It was a stunning, dramatic yarn but took three years to sell.

I know I cannot change the buying public. But I wish I could hold little workshops and show people which colors work best with their coloring and which fibers work best for certain applications. That fuzzy purple acrylic from Walmart may be easy on the wallet, but it will look very cheap worked up as a child's sweater and will start pilling after a few washes. It's not a bargain. I have non-fuzzy acrylic strands in my yarn studio that do not pill and add strength to any garment. I'm sure I repel the purists by using it, but I know that when I mix it with cotton, it makes the yarn easier to knit, whereas 100% cotton yarn can be so stiff, it makes your hands ache. And when mixed with wool, it adds strength.

Sorry, I digress. I was talking about color, not fiber.

Chinchilla, the yarn at the top and bottom of this post, is a great example of what I mean. I put a lot of thought into it. I used gray, beige, taupe and ivory to give it lots of texture and depth. The gray or beige alone would have been boring, but the two together, especially with the multi-color beige/tan strand I used, make it a fascinating yarn. I put a thin green rayon in there for pizazz, without disrupting the overall muted quality. The ivory is an odd crinkly wool that gives the yarn a bit of fluffy excitement without going overboard into a chunky, mohair fluff extravaganza which is unflattering in a sweater--although fluffy can be very nice in a hat. Chinchilla could be stunning on a man or woman with graying hair or anyone with muted coloring. It's also a classic, dignified, sophisticated palette. But it's going to languish in my shop for some time, I feel sure, since it isn't a neon shade of purple that makes your jaw drop and your heart pound.

dj runnels

Life's an Expedition

The AMAZING puppy dream

Last night, I had an extremely detailed dream about a rescue dog program. I saw men in camoflage uniforms logging in data entries and checking out special dogs that were about to go out on assignment and save people's lives.

I awoke at 3am with the sense that this was an important dream that I should tell my husband about.  I found DH on the computer and told him what I had dreamed, adding that it felt as if there were some important message in this dream, as if we should be helping these men and the dogs.  Well, guess what? Moments earlier, DH had read an email from one of the soldiers at one of the combat support hospitals he works with overseas via a national organization that helps American military deployed overseas.  In that email, the soldier tells DH about a dog they are using to help wounded soldiers cope with extreme stress.

What the--?  I know, right?

DH and I have had other similar incidents in which one of us was dreaming while the other one was watching TV or using the computer and encountering images or information similar to the content of the dream.  And a few times, we were both asleep, dreaming similar things.


These have nothing whatsoever to do with this story. I used the photo because there were dogs in it.

dj runnels
Visit my Etsy shop. 

$80 poncho turned into a rug

I made handwoven ponchos a few years ago, when they were all the rage, and still had some left. This tan one in particular was a nice, thick wool. I had been asking $80 for it as a poncho. But I decided to sew up the neck opening and turn it into a bathroom rug. Not exactly economical, but woo-hoo, is it ever soft. That's because I felted the daylights out of it. DH is putting a bit of non-slip tape under it to keep it secure. It looks better in real life.

Everything can be turned into something else.

dj runnels
Life's an Expedition

A houseful of faux painting

The background of this blog appealed to me strongly because of the wall paint. Much of my house is painted in faux finishes.

 

My office and its adjoining bathroom are a sort of French custard color over which I used a gold paint mixed with glaze, applied with newspaper.  I smeared the newspaper pages across the wall and let some of the newsprint ink seep into the paint/glaze.  When I removed the paper, I inspected each section to make sure I didn't have a Carson's yellow dot sale embedded in my wall.  A few times, the newsprint was legible and I had to do it over.  Twice, I saw my hand print from where I had pressed the newspaper into place, so I had to remove that, too.  The Chinese characters shown above are part of a commercially available wallpaper border.  I could not believe my good luck in finding that border, as it matched the wall so well.

 

My dining room (above) has an irregular wall surface to begin with, so painting it was no special feat. I merely used several colors of beige using a special sponge roller.

 

My yarn studio (above) is painted in layers of green, over which I applied beige and glaze, covered it with sheer plastic drop cloths, then removed.  It's a brighter, more varied color than you see in this photo.

My kitchen is painted a flat blue-gray-green, but I am using leaf rubber stamps around the back splash.  This isn't finished yet. This section shows mostly oak leaves and I need to overlap some other leaf shapes and tone down the blatant colors.

My living room has the same irregular surface that my dining room has.  It was painted a dayglo orange when we bought the house.  And when I say dayglo orange, I am not exaggerating.  It was the brightest orange wall color I have ever seen.  McDonald's pales by comparison.  I did not think I would be able to cover it completely, so I decided to work with it rather than against it. I layered four shades of pumpkin, rust, gold, etc. over it and you can still see tiny bits of orange peeking through, especially where the wall meets the ceiling.  The photograph doesn't do justice to the results.  It is the warmest, coziest, most autumnal room you could imagine.  Like a baked pumpkin pie.  And I use a lot of foliage in my decorating, so it feels especially cozy in there in September, October and November.

Okay, thanks for letting me share.

dj runnels

LifesAnExpedition on Etsy