Being Vegan...

is a rollercoaster ride!  Becoming vegan has been something of a journey.  

As some of you may know, it started out based on medical need. The wonky thyroid did not like meat; its consumption was causing me all sorts of stomach issues and they, in turn, caused other issues, it was a vicious circle.  It wasn't a terribly difficult, physical, move to become vegetarian, I'd always been ethically minded about the meat we ate (free range, organic, certified, local etc.) and consequently ate less than most people do anyway.  The mental move was that bit harder; we may not have eaten much meat, but I love to cook, I love to eat, and the textures and flavours of the meat I chose to use were a great part of that.  I will still get the odd craving for a good rare steak, but they are rarer and rarer and, put one in front of me, I couldn't eat it now.  What has happened, and pretty much of it's own accord, is that I became morally minded too. Yes, at the start, I read a couple of books and became very passionate about some facts... the environmental impact of our current meat consumption and what it means for the planet and us still astounds me, and I can't understand why more people don't want to change their eating habits based on those facts alone, I digress... but the mental shift happened very much without a great deal of self lecturing from me.  Somewhere, deep down, there has been an understanding that this is the right thing to do; an anchor point that not only keeps me steady but makes it so easy to feel anything but hard done by!  Its not hard to explain but it seems to be the hardest thing for some other, non veggie, folk to understand.  Having eaten, and loved eating it, not eating meat suddenly becomes a very obvious thing to do.  Mentally, my shift from veggie to vegan happened months before the physical one, complicated by a Drs insistence that I would do myself more harm than good if I stopped eating dairy.  Scarily, there are a great many people who will tell you that vegetarianism can cause hypothyroidism and more than once I've been told I am doing myself more harm than good.  All I can say is that if they looked at me then and now, their argument, in my case, is meritless.  By taking the path I have, I've helped medicines that didn't work for  me actually start to do their job.  Nothing is perfect, nothing ever is, but I feel like I have my life and, more importantly, my self back.  With the dairy, I took it slowly, slowly cutting out everything but cheese (another foible) and educated myself on the alternatives (as I have to moderate my soya intake, thanks again to wonky) and then one day I just stopped, and I'm not looking back!

The greatest thing about the way I eat now is the freedom that it brings; another hard-to-understand for some. The freedom comes in two very different forms: the first, lack of choice, is surprisingly freeing. Yes, menus are very short and sweet, but I spend all that time not choosing enjoying the experience instead.  Try going into a restaurant sometime determined to pick a main course based on one ingredient (chicken or pasta or vegetarian) and there's so much less to think about.  In this crazy, busy world, that fast becomes a blessing!  The other freedom is the exact opposite; at home, cooking, I have never felt freer or eaten as well.  Especially on a vegan diet, we not only eat but experiment and play with our food, it is genuinely exciting to discover what can be done.  Also, in a  meat-free kitchen I have found that a great deal less goes to waste.  Planning meals is also much less necessary, I will always have a few dishes I want to make but if we decide to go out for dinner every night instead, or if I change my mind about what to cook, there is always something that can be done without worrying about food going to waste and with a lot less "oh I just need this" trips to the supermarket too.  With the focus moved away from the meat, and firmly back to its former accompaniments, we are discovering new tastes and ways to cook all the time and the effect on the 11yr old has also been a joy to see.  She is still a meatie out of the house, but she is exploring food and cooking again; baking when she comes home from school, or grilling me about how I plan to cook the dinner and making suggestions of her own.  What she chooses to eat will be her choice, but it is a pleasure to see her so engaged and enthused.

Which brings me to the reason for this whole ramble... garlic sautéed savoy cabbage and peas in couscous.  One part leftover, one part panic grab from the cupboard, it would never have occurred to me a few months ago but is utterly delicious and my new lunchtime favourite.

Texture, flavour, colour and (great) taste... sunshine in a bowl, vegan-stylie ;o)

The wonky wonk

wonk: a person who studies a subject thoroughly, a nerd

wonky: awry, wrong, not working, unsteady

  

That wonderful word “wonk” entered our vocabulary a couple of weeks ago, thanks to Covert Affairs (ok, a guilty pleasure!) and Google.  The boyf and I looked at each other and yep, that’s me… I’m in very good company though, I've always liked Bill Clinton!

Our newfound knowledge was perfectly timed as I have since had plenty of opportunity, this past couple of weeks, to indulge my inner wonk whilst I wait for a particularly annoying bout of the wonky-Ts to pass.  This time, for whatever reason, on top of all the usual thyroid nonsense, I have ached as though with flu, all day, every day and particularly in my arms, wrists and hands.  I haven’t been able to hold a pen to write comfortably, or type, and the farthingale with its 2.6yds of cotton drill has been way too heavy to handle.  It sits patiently on the back of a chair till I can work with it again.

But, every cloud and all that, I have not, therefore, been distracted from prepping for my first appointment with an endocrinologist (fingers and toes crossed) and have become the thyroid wonk with the wonky thyroid – catchy don’t you think? ;o)

Good news is I’m getting better again.  I still ache, but not enough to put me off doing stuff and I have decided that I will handstitch the seams of the farthingale.  Although hard on the hands, I won’t have to hold the fabric as high or as firmly as I would if sewing on the machine; and I can take my time, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire.  It will also be a chance to work a flat-felled seam again; one of my favourite seam finishes and authentic to the period.  It's nice to be back, I've missed doing.

Cue Cards... or Love Notes?

There is definitely a word for this week, a theme, a tagline: compromise, cooperation, compassion, communication… I can’t pin point it, but it’s certainly not crafts! 

But sometimes life throws a curveball and its at those times that you need to focus past your own nose and the list of want-to-do’s that otherwise keep you very happily occupied.

That said, I have one Christmas project nearly completed, I can tell you more about it next week and I made the lovely boyf a little present today: Cue Cards!

They are hardly my most creative works, though I quite like the bow and the “can be hung anywhere” clip ;o), but they are fun and could prove useful one day.  I don’t know about any other wonky-thyroidists, but I have times when I bottom out; exhaustion hits at full force and everything crumbles, all I can do is try to sleep and eat and wait to come out the other side again.  One of the worst side-effects is a complete inability to communicate in anything other than grouchy grunts and glares, sometimes for a good few days.  I have it on good authority that, at such times, I am not that much fun to be around!

I am a work in progress and learning to deal differently; and like “ice-breakers” at dinner parties, I hope that these little cards will help me climb out of the brain fog and make the whole process of communicating a little easier… plus I threw in a few silly and naughty ones, just for the laugh.  The boyf and I have a history of love notes, some more unusual than others (the plastic lizard in the bathroom is one of my favourites, but a whole other story), and these are an extension of that because his patience with, and care of, me through the whole sorry saga since wonky-t turned our lives upside down has been a true declaration of love.  I hope one day to not be talking about all of this because I don’t need to, rather than because I’m embarrassed by myself and maybe my little cards will help…

Love notes, however romantic, naughty or prosaic they may be, the act of sharing that secret communication reminds you of your place in each other’s lives and hearts.  So find some card, labels, post it notes, the back of a till receipt!;  think of a dozen or so things that you want to say – even if it is, as in my case, “I’m doing the housework, no need to help” – and use them with abandon…

It feels like a wasted week

Yuck, have I been ill this week!  The first cold of the season, thanks to the good folk in my office.  Unexpectedly, and in hindsight how silly of me to be surprised, it effected the thyroid and I've had four days of nausea, retching and lots of other luverly stuff on top of the sniffles, snuffles and bunged up ears.  Plus the lovely boyf was in Stuttgart, so the dobe and the 10yr old did their best to nurse me better, which mainly involved Pepsi Max, the Karate Kid and lots of slobbery kisses!  Gotta love them.

Now, cold kicked mostly into touch and thyroid back behaving, I am itching to get cracking again.  I had a day off yesterday to take the 10yr old on a couple of secondary school tours for next September; we picked the one where she walked round with her eyes on stalks as opposed to the one where she was bored in the first 10 minutes...  In the gap in between I put the second sleeve on the Dinner Jacket; it fit first time, the right length and everything - this makes me nervous! :o)   At the end of the day, the 10yr old helped me to pin and cut the pattern pieces for her Halloween dress.  Finally, at 6am this morning (sleep having eluded me for nearly an hour and the dobe's attentions proving a bit too much) I decided to play with yet another idea for the LBD as I really would quite like to wear it tomorrow night; if I can get it to work.

All a bit scatty and no photos taken, but I will do better tomorrow... maybe ;o)

Why blog? A wonky thyroid, that's why!

I read a wonderful post today, by Fran of Skulls and Ponies - a great blog, with a fantastic name!

Fran talks about the identity of a blogger, finding your feet and your voice in a largely anonymous world, then about her reasons for starting her blog and about the question that I guess plagues most bloggers, "how much do I share?"

My road to blogging echoes hers in many respects and it got me thinking that whilst I will always protect the privacy of the people who share my life but not my blogging, I have nothing to be ashamed of how I came to be here and perhaps I shouldn't feel the need to hide it.   I shy away from writing about it because I never want to sound self-pitying; I can't imagine anything worse for anyone to read (myself included) than lots of self-pitying prose! But in reading Fran's wonderfully direct and honest posts, I found comfort and strength in seeing that someone else had "made good".  Perhaps I could use my experience to help someone else?  ..."Don't be so presumptuous darling!" I instantly say to myself!

That said... here goes.

A very dear friend asked posted this on Facebook the other day:

It's hard to explain to someone who has no clue. It's a daily struggle being in pain or feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside. Please put this as your status for at least 1 hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (PTSD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Diabetes, LUPUS, Fibromyalgia, MS, ME, Arthritis, Cancer, Heart Disease, Epilepsy, Autism,M.D. etc.) " Never judge what you don't understand."

It means something to her to spread the message, and it means something to me to do so too.  To that list I could add my own personal favourite (for favourite, read nemesis) Hypothyroidism; then we can add his good friends Anxiety and Depression, just to name two!

Two years ago (there or thereabouts) it felt as if I was imploding.  Having been terrified of needles my whole life, my deepest fear was having an illness that involved blood tests. Suddenly I had this "life long condition", 4-6 weekly blood tests were the norm and at 35 years old I couldn't scream, cry and fuss as I had as a kid!  The initial thrill of having an explanation for how I had been feeling faded fast as the drugs worked for a couple of weeks and then had to be revised again.  The symptoms, for me, were all invasive, nothing seemed immune, and being rather stubborn I spent far too long fighting my body instead of listening to it.  This, combined with some external situations that arose, gradually led me into a spiral of anxiety, anger and depression.  I fought myself, thinking it was the way out and ended up fighting the people I loved in the process.

Luckily I have good people.  Very good people who kept the faith and have helped me through.  I chose therapy over medication and so getting to a healthy happy place again required a lot of thinking and it was as I was doing this that I returned to my love of stitching.  I should explain.  Some people with HT find that it greatly affects their mental function, I did.  At 36 I was unable to name the most simple, common objects (cutlery for example) without have to play word association or just wait till it came.  I would be halfway through a sentence and have no idea of what I was saying.  Simple maths and problem solving was sometimes impossible - hard for a lover of crosswords and Sudoku. Always a person with an "energetic mind" (thanks Fran), I found myself constantly overthinking.  Not about the sensible things (like what is that thing that cuts your food called) but instead I would get caught up in an endless anxious monologue.  Finding a space in all of this where I could think my way back to a healthier outlook was very hard until one day I saw some dolls I'd made for the 10yr old and remembered how I loved the thought process involved in making one.  I found something random to sew and gradually found that the thinking, if it didn't quite stop, did certainly calm again.  Sewing, for me, is a meditation.

As I found a calm focus, I found my real voice again.  I started a diary but it could become too introvert and I wanted a format which couldn't allow so easily for that.  Plus I was now making sure I did something creative at least once a day; it became an important lifeline for me and gave me such confidence.  I generally like to make things for other people and so a space in which I could document what I was making also became important.  A blog seemed a perfect outlet: a digital scrapbook/diary which could become a keepsake for the things I had made and a chance to talk, if only for and to myself.

I still can't always remember what that damned prong thing is called! but I am in a far better place and have a wealth of lovely things around me that I am proud of.  Including my little blog where opening up enough to share a "make, do or thought" has been, is, a good and important step.

The Split Pannier Overskirt... in an afternoon

Yesterday, with a clean house and the rain still falling I decided to start on the last piece of my skirt, the 1880 Split Pannier Overskirt.

It very nearly didn’t happen, it was a Thyroid Day: brain fog that meant I had to check with the boyf that I was laying out the pattern correctly (really, how hard can two squares on a fold be!) and reread the instructions each step of the way; mental dyslexia that had me talking about our dilly sog and the little ched ricken; some serious grumps (never the best frame of mind to create in..) and a right hand that dropped my cutting scissors so many times I was starting to think it had it in for me!  I won’t write about days like today very much, but with a deferential nod to sheer stubbornness, I mention the above because despite it all the final picture of this post is what I fought today to achieve and I am proud of it!

Rascal joined me and we started off with this:

...doubled!

It was a treat to get my metallic cotton poplin out of the Mood bag where it has sat since NY but it quickly got itself a nickname!  Beautiful certainly, but fussy, prone to creasing, camera shy and a nuisance to sew and cut.  On the plus side, it was a dream to press (once I’d plucked up the courage to have the iron on max temp) and fine which became a necessity later on.

There is no need to repeat pics of darts and seams etc. (though the seam on this is hidden as it falls straight down the middle of the centre back).  My two giant squares were sewn together, each had three darts at the waist and the front and bottom edges hemmed.  I will not be adding trim to any of the outfit until the jacket is near completion and I can see its entirety so I concentrated on finishing the edges well; particularly the corners of the bottom hem.

I find that sometimes my hems twist as they’re sewn, despite pressing and pinning, and so one corner needs to be tucked in and never looks quite right.  I developed a little cheat when working on an apron project last year (the Temptaprons).  I sew from one corner to the centre of the fabric, made easy this time by the fact that there was a centre seam.  I then sew from the opposite corner, lining up the stitch line, tying off all four threads and sewing them into the seam.  The result is virtually impossible to see and you have two straight and neat corners.  

I also finally used my straight edge tool on the sewing machine, such a treat and useful with the hand shakes!

Once I had hemmed the pattern called for two bias binding tunnels; to give you an idea of the scale, they were the length of my ironing board!

 Once these were sewn in, and a little more Christmas ribbon added for ties, I stitched a series of gathers, two on the outside edge and two at an angle in the middle of the pattern.  These were all not far off 24” long and were then gathered to 7” and 6” respectively.  Suddenly a huge rectangle was starting to become something very interesting.  The gathers were then sewn in with a strip of bias binding on the inside.  A technique I’ve not seen before and was dubious about, but it gives a surprising amount of stability and strength to the gathered areas.   Luckily it will be hidden, my sewing was not quite up to scratch today…

The final thing was the waistband.  Laying the fabric across the width, the pattern called for a 3” seam past the groups of darts and the remainder of the back panel to be gathered to fit.  Well, I had nearly 36” to fit into a 4” gap!  I was suddenly very grateful for the fineness of the cotton; at the tightest gather I could make I still had to allow another 1-2” either side to ease it in.  If I had make this overskirt in the twill that I used for the Fantail, it would never have happened!

Finally, I sewed ties to the top and bottom of the inner gathered sections, which allow them to be tied in place.  I gathered the bottom (bias binding) section and it was done!  It needs to be trimmed and I may line the central puff (I can’t decide if it needs a little more rigidity, I’ll research more first).  But here it is:

 Under natural light, the shine is not so pronounced.  It, instead, gives the poplin a soft grey tone and does not contrast quite so sharply with the softer twill.  But these are minor points, more photos I can take.  

For now, I will just enjoy my creation... and try not to panic too much about how I tackle the jacket!