Here is a list of things that get me high on Halloween:

  1. Costumes. Duh. Homemade ones are the best, like when my mom made that cranberry-colored velvet dress and pink faux fur stole so I could be a Rich Lady in first grade. High five, Mom! What’s your fave costume, now or gone?
  2. Candy pumpkins. I like to pretend I’m the giant from The Brave Little Tailor, who picks up a horsecart-ful of pumpkins and dumps them in his mouth. Remember that?
  3. Thriller. Word, MJ. I will dance like that herd of zombies, maybe in my next life.
  4. It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. The wisdom of The Brown: “Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker.”
  5. Jack-o’-lanterns. For more, see Figs. 1 & 2.

Despite the non-Smallishness of buying a farm-fed squash raised especially for slicing, Mr. LS and I hosted a carving festival with a few friends, some butternut squash & pear soup + hand-twisted soft pretzels (yes, I married an incredible man-chef), and some pumpkin cookies from my friend Jill.

But, in the spirit of Small living, both the man-chef and I tried to recycle pieces of our pumpkins as artistic additions to our jackies.

Fig. 1: Mister’s Devil.

Fig. 2: My Dead Prom Queen.

In both cases, we reused the mouth cutouts as embellishments, affixed with toothpicks: Mister chopped his in half for horns; I flipped and fastened mine for a clever little crown.

Tell me about your Great Pumpkins. Classic? Unconventional? Kooky?

Fall has fallen, oh yes, with rain and red leaves. And with fall comes wool (not mothy wool; good, warm, snuggly wool), and with wool comes Etsy. Two new Etsy loves, from me to you.

Needle felted acorns for scattering at Small House, by truLuxe:

And this crocheted apple cozy for keeping my Galas bruise-free, from Unravel Me:

Yarn. Moth. Bad.

October 19, 2009

This is disgusting.

My yarn stash. Infested. Moths, little larval wormy white things. Barf city.

Serves me right, I guess, for overstashing — even in Le Petit Maison. Just desserts, I suppose, for storing my piles of chunky Manos del Uruguay wool and the last of the Rowan Tweed Mouse lot saved for my mister’s Mister Rogers cardi and the bunny-soft worsted alpaca hand-spun and hand-dyed from the hair of this. very. beasty:

out in the open, where the burrowing parasites could spin their vile tents and lay their maggoty eggs. (This is disgusting.)

The point: I want to be Small; I want to keep my yarn, not toss and replace because of some bugs. But can I?

Any advice from the other knitters out there? Can I keep? Must I chuck?

Dems da berries.

October 17, 2009

Last weekend, in an effort to prepare Tiny House for the onset of autumn, Mr. Living Small and I unpacked the hacksaw and set to work pruning the summer growth that was threatening to engulf our mini-manse. Naturally, this effort left us with stacks of stalks and branches, all of which wouldn’t fit in the city-issue yard waste bin. (Not to mention, many of these arms were, in their severance, still lovely to look at.) I sat on our stoop, puzzling over several cut-off canes of heavenly bamboo, fresh with sprays of rust-red berries.

Then, smack!

Rewind seven days. Rewind to my science fair–themed birthday party. Rewind to my friend Sly’s gift, a three-foot, vintage glass beaker. I put 2 and 2 2gether:

Reminds me of spring ’09’s fleur de toilette:

Better than blossoms that’ll pout in three days, better than buying roses flown in from Texas. This foliage grows right outside my front door, and it lasts forever. Righteous, to quote my friend Jill.

What blooms in your ‘hood? What do you cut?

Interiors know-it-alls tell us that an inviting (and functional) entryway is paramount to creating a good space. But what if you live Small? Typically, tiny homes and entryways don’t mix; not enough room, right?

Maybe not. Small Lady wants to hug these teeny entryways. Here’s one:

Puny and pizzazzy. See this beauty and six others — plus the accompanying tips for creating a lively, lovely entryway — at AT.

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