I had great plans to show you my curtain making activity for Lloyd’s bedroom,https://cheapcheer.wordpress.com/2010/04/18/the-countdown-to-lloyd/ until I realized I hadn’t taken any pictures and the curtains aren’t that interesting. But NPR Head that I am, I was besieged with Earth Day radio as I measured and hemmed and pressed and stitched. The pressing part was a match of wills. An ironing board is one of Willow’s favorite places to laze and watch me, as I go about my trifling human activities like making curtains, telling yet another insurance agent that I don’t want an estimate, or making an egg salad sandwich for lunch.
As I hung the curtains to check out the length I noticed that the neglected guest room windows would need the old vinegar and water and newspaper treatment. I’m not a deep person, and if I were asked to pass on some Old Lady Wisdom on my deathbed it wouldn’t be something about living in the present, dancing as if no one were watching or going vegan. It would be: Forget the Squeedgie, and the Windex: Get a bowl of vinegar and water and the Business Section.
I’ve mused about the family disposition to newsprint. https://cheapcheer.wordpress.com/2010/03/27/newspaper-mashup/
But just futzing about today I found this cool site. As God is my witness (channeling the O’Hara extended family in “Gone With the Wind’ who stuffed newspapers into any available orifice for insulation)It’s terrific. Newsprint can remove stinky odors from shoes and food containers? That I didn’t know . Did you?
I’ll have a forthcoming Master Class about origami hats folded from a broadsheet. But now, it’s all about washing windows.
In the face of my unseemly passion for all things made from wood-pulp (or cotton, or silk) pushed through a screen, I’m incredulous that I’ve never dribbled in papier mache. Making it even more improbable is that I grew up in a newsprint family — my father spent his career in the biz. The first thing Daddy did when he opened the daily paper was to hold a single sheet up to the light and rub it between his fingers to test its quality. If the newspaper was a customer of the mill he managed, he could tell us which of the paper machines the newsprint rolled off– heck, he could probably tell you what which shift it was made on and who the sixth-hand was. He’s long retired, but I’ve seen him do his quality check in the past year.
He used to bring home rolls of paper the height of a tabloid and four feet across for us kids to scribble on — rolls considered too inferior to ship. Man, I wish I had a gargantuan roll of virgin newsprint right now, because the Divine Martha has persuaded be that I might want to make papier mache Easter eggs.
Here’s the link. http://www.marthastewart.com/article/papier-mache-eggs-with-pom-pom-chick?backto=true&backtourl=/photogallery/best-easter-baskets#slide_26
I caught her on television a few days ago and thought that it looked like so much fun, all that wrapping of paper and glue around a mold formed from a balloon blown into your ovoid size of choice. And it tickled something from depths of memory — I’d seen the technique before, in my mother’s kitchen, She and her friend Betty, big round ballons, a basin filled with torn up newspaper…
I’m the smiley pumpkinhead on the right, my brother Ian’s on the left. I was five, he was three, and we were off to knock on the doors of rue DeFranchville in our snowsuits, cunningly hidden under the sheets.
Newsprint, check. Mod Podge, check. I’m off to the Mexican dollar store/party store/bodega for a big bag of balloons. Hmm, I can see a Thanksgiving cornucopia — I’m loving the idea of a monster purple eggplant, and squash and cucumbers and pears.
Catch you later — I’m buying balloons.