Final Stretch
October 10th, 2011
Actually, I’m now even closer to finishing my latest petticoat edging than when I took this picture…thanks to an evening at home watching movies with my favorite fellow.
I’m working on the final row. It’s going fairly fast — I’m nearly halfway done after just a few hours of work. Good thing too, as I’m getting a little tired of crochet — at least this pattern. And my wrists ache, my fingers are stiff, and there is a nasty bruise on my right palm where the end of the hook rests. Genius is pain.
Next I’ll need a petticoat to sew this to. I think I have just enough muslin left. Tucks seem like the way to go again, since I still have yet to find any evidence of a mid-19th century petticoat sporting both crochet and embroidery.
Salmon Croquettes
October 9th, 2011
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s to be resourceful. When life leaves you with massive amounts of left-over baked salmon, make croquettes!
Before this week, I was well acquainted with croquet, but not so much with croquettes. I’m not sure if the relation between the two words goes any further than their obvious homographic tendency, but I now have a full appreciation for the latter. Thanks to Feeding America, I found this receipt in a cookbook compiled from reader submissions to The Los Angeles Times, published around 1905:
The bread crumbs were a bit tricky, as the only thing remotely akin to bread that I had on hand was a box of Swedish rye crisps. But a few minutes in the food processor did the trick. They were dry though, and I think I may have had more than a pound of salmon — I had to add an extra egg to make it all stick together. I used paprika instead of pepper and threw in a few minced scallions for good measure (one of the salmon croquette receipts I didn’t use, because it called for cream, included paprika, another called for scallions).
The mixture was very light and fluffy. I shaped it into little cakes and fried them in butter. My kitchenette smelled incredible as they began to heat through — the rye from the crackers adding to their fragrance.
I’m pleased to report that they were delicious. Very light, almost airy, and delicately flavored. Not fishy at all. We ate them over nutty short grain brown rice with lightly steamed asparagus.
Thanks for the Thread
October 8th, 2011
Look what Richard (our wonderful UPS man) delivered this week:
I needed reinforcements for my growing interest in crocheted lace. Pictured here we have thread sizes 20, 30, and 40, and a size 14 hook (the smallest sold in most American stores). Thread used to be available in every numbered size, but by the mid-20th century they’d narrowed it down to every 10. I’ve been using size 10 (size 5 and 3 are also available, though very chunky) with a size 10 hook. I’ve got sizes 11 and 13 hooks waiting for the 20 and 30 thread. My new ball of size 40 seems about right for the new hook. Funny story about size 14 hooks…my friend and dauntless seamstress Zoh chose a size 14…to LEARN crochet! She’s my hero.
I’d also like to thank Mr. I. U. for financing this venture.
A Wake
October 7th, 2011
Earlier this week, I had reason to rout about in my shelf of photographs. Among the color slides from my husband’s trip to Mexico (circa 1964) and endless albums of wedding pictures, I came across a largish manilla envelope I’d stashed and promptly forgotten. It turned out to be four early 20th century postmortem photographs from my father’s side of the family along with a letter from my Auntie Mary (also my godmother). She sent the packet last year while I was curating Memento Mori: the Birth & Resurrection of Postmortem Photography.
I know that the idea of photographing the dead seems strange today, and even makes some people very uncomfortable. The reactions to the show last year were across the map, but they were all very emotional — which is exactly what a curator wants! A major component of Memento Mori was the amazing collection of The Burns Archive, which celebrated the release of Sleeping Beauty III in conjunction with the exhibition.
In the 19th century, when photography itself was relatively new and fairly expensive, the postmortem photograph was often the only image made of a person, especially in the case of childhood deaths. In their anxiety to have a picture, any picture, to remember their loved one by, bereaved families relied on the miracle of the camera. Photographers charged a premium to transport their cumbersome equipment and dangerous chemicals to the home of the deceased. Sometimes they worked to make the corpse seem as life-like as possible, posing it in a bed, or painting the eyes open once the plate was developed. In other cases, the body was photographed in a coffin, surrounded by candles and flowers. Before photographs, hiring an artist to make a painting or sculpture (or death mask) was the only way to make a portrait. Photography democratized personal memorials.
These are the four postmortem photographs that Auntie Mary sent. They are unidentified, but we know they belonged to our family, and were likely of family members. Postmortem photographs were extremely personal mementos, and are rarely labeled.
You’re probably wondering why I took the trouble to tag these photos with a snarky message. Normally I don’t care who borrows the photos I post (just don’t link back to the copy on my server please) but these seemed a little different. First of all, I know there is a demand for postmortem photographs. People are fascinated by them, and there just aren’t that many available; I know these will attract some attention. They’re also very precious to me. I want to share them with you, but I also want to make sure that people searching for images online think twice about reusing them.
Owney the Postal Dog Wants You
October 6th, 2011
You don’t write enough letters. Neither do I for that matter, but I’ll wager I write more than most. I’m talking about real letters, the kind with paper and envelopes and stamps. It seems that our national postal service, one of the neatest things that our government does for us, is suffering from neglect.
If you each mailed just one letter a week, think what it would do for the postal service. Even a postcard would help. And great-aunt Martha would be so very pleased to hear from you. Besides, it’s a good mental exercise, it’s fun, and the panoply of charming stationery at your local shop is matched only by the colorful selection of stamps at your nearest post office. What, you don’t know where your post office is? For shame!
Before telephones, cell phones, or internet, the only way to communicate across distances was by post. The postal service was laid out in the 1770s, and Benjamin Franklin, arguably the most interesting founding father, served as the first postmaster general. Until the late 19th century, home delivery wasn’t standard in all places. Instead, your letters were delivered to the local post office, and you had to go pick them up each day, or engage a local private carrier to bring them to your home.
I know everyone is always complaining that the postal rates keep going up. But when you stop to think, you can drop a letter or a card into the mail box on your corner on Tuesday morning, and by Friday afternoon it’s waiting on someone’s front stoop all the way across the country. Where else can you get that kind of service for only 44 cents?
Not that you need any more reasons to go write a letter this instant, but isn’t this dog adorable?
Read all about Owney the Postal Dog on the Smithsonian website. Then trot over to the USPS website to purchase a sheet of Owney’s commemorative stamps!
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