"March"ing along

We missed updating you in February, dear readers and friends. It was a muddy, frozen month and quite frankly the camera rested in its bag for much of it. But now. Bang! Snap! It is March and time to plant the peas.

We brought home two new horses in February and Dolly for one was mightily displeased. Two Spot was ever the gentleman and attempted to smooth her ruffled nerves but the pony spent weeks alternately pouting and punishing us for our disloyalty. She is pretty sure she could carry a full-grown person, as any self-respecting Shetland would, thank you very much. Who needs a couple of Morgans anyway?

But really, Dolly, there are still three children under 50 pounds around here. There are plenty of mane braiding and river trips to come for you, spunky pony.

To be truthful Dolly and I share this aversion to change. Once I learned how to be present in the moment I realized how difficult it can be to move on to the next. Transition issues, anyone?

Murphy the dog had a little anxiety too, facing so much change, now that I think of it. He lost his best friend Molly over the winter and now he is growing attached (read: devoted?) to Madeleine. In this photo she is heading out to the horses. She thinks.

Murphy doesn't so much mind Sam and Richie's arrival, but they don't quite know what to do with a pony-sized dog yet. Similarly Richie seems to believe Jane the ewe lamb is a very fat poodle with a habit of rushing in to steal his dropped grain.

We all learn and grow. And change.

In less-philosophical farm news: We planted two peach trees and an almond tree. (You can see Grace digging one of the holes in a picture posted here!) This brings our orchard to three mature apple trees, one mature tart cherry and two sweet two-year-old cherries, one young fig tree, one mature pear and two two-year-old pears, the new peach and almond trees, and five grapevines we planted last year. Oh! And a quince, a 40-foot multi-variety raspberry hedge, and three blueberry bushes. This week I hope to renovate my strawberry bed during the break between school and dance each day.

And in school news: Grace's piano lessons are a treasure hidden in each week. I know I may be stage-momming but I have to say I think she plays beautifully, and she loves it. Her shy and quiet goes away when she is practicing and a new giggly glow comes over her. Is there anything to make a mother tearful like her child finding a happiness and joy? Which is a perfect segue into Madeleine and algebra. (Yes, I am thinking I am funny.) Homeschooling (who made that word?) kindergarten through high school is its own brand of mommy crazy but it is still working for our family in part because Madeleine and Sarah are both so self-starting. Madeleine would rather "start" with math, and Sarah with literature. They work incredibly hard each day on their "schoolwork"  before they play in the rain with the ponies and then get cleaned up, Monday through Saturday, for ballet/tap/jazz/modern. It is simply stunning to be as involved as I get to be. The best way I can describe how it feels to "teach" them is that I am allowed to rediscover my own love of learning while they explore new subjects. Meanwhile Grace is still loving second grade if not as much right now as she loves dance and music, Laura is a super-precocious kindergarten ballerina princess scholar, and Salvador has absorbed his alphabet and counts to 17 (skips 18 -- but goes on to 19 and 20 -- what's up with that?) at age two while he gets to know his Legos really well. How lucky am I to be seated at the same table as these children?

Something on which I don't always update you: The in-case-you-follow-small-business news: my husband's engineering, project management, site development and land survey business has evolved significantly to better serve our still-struggling Oregon economy. I am unspeakably proud of how hard and smart he continues to work, traveling the state and region and taking on new lines of work to diversify. A tiny part of me sometimes wishes we could go back to a homesteading lifestyle, selling shares in dairy cows and harvesting trees to build the new addition we need so badly at this old farmhouse. But. His skills and certifications are helping many others in the development and land use planning fields find ways to accomplish their goals as well. The office looks different than it did five years ago but, again, change is good. Right?

And finally the farmhouse renovation news: It certainly is good to have change to report on that front. The upstairs bathroom, completely unusable a year ago, is becoming beautiful! Since moving every last thing to the studs, we have insulated and had the plumbing repaired. The new black-and-white flooring is installed and the toilet and pedestal sink are in. Two custom-made built-in cabinets (squee!) hold linens and hair bows. Last to finish is the tub end of the room, but I hope to have a surprise to share next month. A dear friend visited for the first time in a year and in giving her the tour I was impressed with our progress, which is hard to see in the day-to-day of it all. New kitchen flooring, new kitchen nook with wainscot, new stairwell, new pantry, new paint in nearly every room, newnewnew! Through her eyes I didn't see the flooring still to replace or the bookcases to build, but the beauty in what we are creating. I was surprised by how much change we've wrought one spackle spot at a time.

Oftentimes I am like Richie or Sam, newly arrived at this place, not sure of what I'm seeing but grateful for the fresh growth of spring grass pushing through last fall's leaves. A change can be a surprise. And a surprise is like a present.

Ragout of a post

I'm working on the canned ham rejuvenation. Bit by bit it's coming together. My wonderful husband and amazing father-in-law "upcycled" a neighbor's deck that was otherwise headed for the burn pile and now it's the perfect landing pad for my awning poles this summer. Also? The girls moved right in with their Breyer barns and model horses. They didn't want to wait for the pressure washing. They may have come by that impatience honestly. See that red and yellow galvanized tub in the right foreground? I planted that dumpster treasure (yes, I mortified my husband and children on a recent dump run by asking another dump patron for his 'trash') full of sugar snap peas and buttercrunch lettuce. I didn't want to wait for the pressure washing either! My plans for Valentino are that it be not only a writing spot for me but a tiny guest cottage, if you will. The family plans are that it could also be a changing room for the wading pool! And the deck? Can pull double duty as a stage for summer backyard concerts. Who knew how much joy this little work in progress could bring? I am excited to show you my reupholstery and paint projects as they continue. And put your reservations in now because I'd love to host you in the canned ham cottage! My house is just steps away and the country quiet is intoxicating (unless of course the children are laughing and playing outside of course!). Meanwhile, elsewhere in the yard, a few violets decided we were never going to get to all the leaves and braved the springtime anyway.

Our indoor seedlings were this size when I took the pictures... and six inches tall when I uploaded those pictures!

We're still studying geography and culture of many lands. In the past few weeks we have batiked fabric for saris, handwoven colorful Mexican sashes, and embellished Austrian vests and hats. Grace can finally name and identify her continents... I wish we knew a continent memory song that flirts around at the back of my mind but never settles in well enough to teach it! Does anyone have an idea of this song or did I make it up in my famously imaginative memory?

The giant yellow daffodils are slowly giving way to a flurry of fragrant paperwhites. They are so beautiful! I wish that particular scent of paperwhites and mown grass could be bottled.

And of course bread still needs to be baked. Those sad little lumps of dough become an everyday miracle of their own. I am recognizing more of those serendipitous moments and household beauties, the more I look.

You too?

Scrappy

My friend Lexie got a sewing machine and outed herself today as a fabric junkie. I suggest she enter a 12-step program. Step One: I''ll take that offending substance off her hands.

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My sister (Whose blog is not public. Gah. What kind of sister of mine is not all about the attention?!) joined me earlier this year in retreating for a weekend of quilty goodness. She, too, is a burgeoning fabric addict on a slippery slope. But don't think I'm a pusher.

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My friend Katie, also, she sews a mean streak. She sews dresses from pillowcases and slipcovers from remnants and probably was the inspiration behind a little book called StitchAholic. Her first step, I'm thinking, should be to hand over the stash to one who can watch over it for her. I mean, I'm prepared to help.

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Today I sewed nonstop at my dining room table. I sewed through Sarah writing a riddle about Gandhi (who, it turns out, was quite riddle-worthy). I sewed through Madeleine applying for a patent (no kidding) for an invention that may or may not be revealed here later. (When she decides whether she trusts you, dear readers.)

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I sewed through making umpteen cups of "cold cocoa" (known as "chocolate milk" unless you're a particularly particular child of mine) for Laura and through just as many sessions of nursing Salvador.

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I sewed while Gracie spent her last day as a 6-year-old just as Gidgety as ever, never once glancing at the plainly visible increasing stack of finished items. Oh, to be that happy-go-lucky. Grace is a butterfly of a girl, you see, alighting on a flower here, a sunny spot there, gently unfolding her wings in the most springlike manner. Any other of my children would have had twenty questions, no fewer, for me, about the pile of bright floral and gingham fabrics. Any other of my children would have started asking me to sew something specific. Not Grace. Grace Hannah collects happinesses like I collect pretty bits of floral fabric. She just does. She can't help it.

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Just last night, to give you an example of Grace's way of walking through the world, this same child burst into my bedroom at well past midnight. A headlamp blinded me as she excitedly bounced up and down on my side of the bed, waving two books in and out of the glow.

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"I finished these, Mom! Do you want me to read them to you?"

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"I want you to know what happens!"

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There is something undeniable about Grace. She is enthusiastic; she's single-minded until she's inevitably distracted; she's effervescent. It didn't occur to her last night that she busted herself for reading well past "lights out" just as it didn't occur to her today that I might be sewing her birthday gifts in plain sight. She's just so full of joy, that girl. She's good medicine in a world that doesn't seem fluttery nor innocent right this minute.

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What did I sew, you ask?

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I slashed through a lot of my own personal stash creating a wardrobe for Grace's as-yet-unmet dream doll: Samantha, a beauty of an American Girl that my mom bought for our gorgeous middlest's seventh birthday. Samantha now has one period (1904-ish) outfit, three skirt-and-sweater sets and a pair of pajamas. Grace also has a lookalike skirt set so she and Samantha can dress in matchy-match glory tomorrow.

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And now I feel as giddy as Grace! I can't wait to wake up in the morning and see her open her gifts! I couldn't be more pleased to bust through fabric than for this reason. It was a delicious day of sewing and school and reflecting on Grace's sparkly seven-year life.

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Plus I made some room for more fabric. Isn't that the way it works?

Sprucing Valentino

Why, yes, that's my little nest of happy colors and summertime napping bliss. Theoretically I write out there too.

In that. My own personal "trailer park" in the back yard. Otherwise known as "Mommy's Bahamas," or, more recently, "Valentino."

It's cute but a little beyond shabby in its chicness.

When we were a cute little family of three and four we camped in vintage 1954 Valentino, trucking down the road and garnering stares and waves from Harleys and Hummers alike.

But Valentino is outgrown by our cute bigger family of seven. We have a new(er) glamper (glamorous camper? anyone?) that sleeps everyone and boasts a bathroom to boot.

Valentino comes complete with vinyl upholstered 8-track shelf.

...that I have finally found the gumption to strip. I'm gonna put some geraniums and a stereo there.

Can you say ugh? Ick? Vinyl upholstery and nastiness combine on the dinette side of my little Valentino. That's where I will set up my laptop docking station and finish the probably not-so-great novel. (I hate to put pressure on myself.)

So I've started slapping on the primer. With my husband's blessing it's ALL getting the white paint and beadboard treatment. Yessirree, even the adorable honey-colored cabinetry. I am going to strip it down and build it back up on the cheap. With paint and fabric I have in the bottomless pit of a shop.

Willy nilly you might say. It's brighter already. It's happier. It's my own little trailer park of one. With a tiny deck and a striped awning, a new red and white exterior paint job and maybe even some chenille upholstery on the dinette seats... I'd love to welcome guests by this summer.

And a note: It's hard for me to share the before and during shots without some "after" inspiration. But I'm doing it anyway.

Do you have a getaway?

Quilt top at ninety percent

I didn't finish the top... it still needs borders... but all the piecing is done and considering that I stopped to nurse the baby approximately four thousand times I am pleased with the progress.

Even more pleased with the sense of camaraderie and friendship I have come to know and love at this annual retreat.

Ole! A cheap-to-free pinata that you can make too if you're so inclined

My kids don't think it's a party without a pinata.

I think driving into town just for a pinata is a waste of gasoline and time (yes, call me a killjoy if you like).

We can't use a balloon covered in paper mache because we have one child with a latex allergy. That would have been my go-to method for creating a homemade pinata in the past. What to do?

Oh, to count the problems a country mom can conquer with an oatmeal canister, some Elmer's School Glue and a bin full of tissue paper. Not only does it make a fine (if a tad too sturdy) pinata, it makes for a full afternoon of messy crafting fun.

First we dug in the craft bins for tissue and a suitable cardboard canister. We didn't choose a cereal box because the shape of the oatmeal box seemed like more fun. Upon further review I might choose to use a cereal box because it might be a little easier to break.

Then we cut a millionbajillion squarish pieces out of stacks and stacks of pastel tissue paper. If you were very patient you could make a pattern. We are not that patient.

Then we spread Elmer's in small patches on the canister and on the lid. A couple of girls worked each side of the pinata. Picking up a square at a time, we twisted the tissue around the eraser end of a pencil (remember this technique from making tissue daffodils in preschool?) and pressed the twists onto the glue-y cardboard tube.

Presto-chango, over a mere two hours of mess the cylinder became fluffy and princessy and fit for a birthday fiesta.

We poked two holes in the top of the canister walls and threaded a long loop of curling ribbon through. Then we filled it up with candy and treats and popped the decorated lid on. Don't forget to decorate the bottom too!

It was kind of hard to break but it was really pretty for a freebie.

Keep on thanking

This little farm is wrapped in picket fences. Bicycles. Quilts. Babies.

A thin dusting of snow graced our Thanksgiving weekend. The ice and threat of ice kept schools closed -- except for our kitchen table school -- and made for a cozy week.

However. It also kept my computer in limbo at the tech guy's shop for an extra nine days. Let me tell you, if you want to simplify your life a lot, let the computer take an extended vacation. And then let the cell service in your area go down due to ice on the tower. If you're hoping for such a perfect storm of Ludditism (word? not a word?), be sure to lay in plenty of reading material and groceries and of course animal feed.

WHICH LEADS ME TO MY HUGE NEWS.

We have a new puppy!

Pictures to follow.

She's not technically a puppy. The animal shelter thinks she's possibly of advanced age. But we haven't had her in to our veterinarian just yet. (Ice on the roads and all.)

Mr. Suite surprised the girls with Bonnie Bell, our new Springer Spaniel, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. She's so cute that she inspires baby talk, even in those of us long determined that vocabulary is not built on such wee wittle woidy woids. She's even adorable enough to let me consider breaking the decades-held cardinal rule of no dogs on the furniture. What? She's smaller than a Golden Retriever. By a lot. Also easier to bathe. And if you're still partying with my justification festival you'll think it makes perfect sense that she's allowed on the couches, where no dog has snored before.

So between our lack of computer and related use of hardbound reference books for research papers (again with the WHAT?), between our somewhat self-extended cabin fever and our putting the garden to bed and the leaves to good use on the compost heaps, between turkey with loved ones and making the traditional thankful tree... between the cracks of all that beautiful life... we've been grateful.

Tell me about your thanksgiving. Go on. It's not too late. I for one believe it's in fashion year-round. Just like small(ish) dogs on the couch. And vintage bikes on the fence. For a certain type of girl, these are the little black dress, the classic cardigan, the new-old haute couture so blessedly ubiquitous as to be reported on rarely but enjoyed continuously by those in the know.

The thanks are the thing.

So THAT's why one bagel costs $1.25!

oldGluten intolerance notwithstanding, we Suite family members love our bagels. When we do venture into a college town near us, we enjoy a splurge at a local bagel shop as much as the next Scrabble-playing girl.

And while we have for years been okay with baking a loaf of yeast bread (or five), making homemade bagels seemed too ... mysterious ... for us.

Until this week!
This was the week I donned one of my trusty vintage aprons and my courage. I cracked the Betty Crocker for procedural help and began with a yeasty bread dough of my own non-recipe.

(Roughly four cups of white flour, one cup of whole wheat. Two eggs. A cup or so of warm raw milk and a couple tablespoons of melted butter. Three teaspoons of yeast. Some kosher salt. Knead until your shoulders hurt. Rest. (The dough and yourself.) Let rise in a covered bowl until roughly double in size. Or, you know, use your bread machine on "dough" and a recipe. Whatever your modern homesteading heart desires.)


An hour or two later, split the risen dough into two, then each of those into six equal parts.

Roll each lump of slightly stiff dough into a ball and then make a hole in the middle. Stretch the little lump into a sort of a bagel shape. Contemplate this shape as a metaphor for a stage of life, an icon of ... something. (Not really. It seemed funny to me at the time.)

Check to make sure the baby is still asleep because you have a lot of steps left before you have bagels.

After the bagel-shaped lumps of dough have risen for about 20 minutes, broil them about two minutes per side. Betty says they're not supposed to brown. But I didn't read ahead, so mine did. Oh dear.

Meanwhile boil six cups of water, Betty says, with a tablespoon of sugar. Next time I'll boil more water in a bigger pot or else use multiple pots.

Pop the broiled bagels into your boiling/simmering water for seven minutes. I turned mine over halfway through because, hello, they floated like tiny life preservers. I promise I'm not speaking metaphorically again. A bagel is good, but it's not that good.

After they're all boiled, bake on a well-buttered (Betty says "greased" but that word grosses me out) sheet for about 25 minutes at 375 degrees.

Imagine you've died and gone to a bagel shop.

Imagine all the varieties you'll make next time. Blueberry. Onion. Cranberry. Parmesan. Not necessarily together.

Toasting optional!

I Sedum chairs?

I love sedum... and I love garden art... but I've never done anything to marry those two loves... until now.

When a painted, weathered porch chair lost its seat. That'll happen if you water a basket of geraniums on it all summer long for four years straight. And then, ahem, you use the chair as a stepstool to hang a banner for a yard party.

So the seat parted ways with the rest of the chair... and met up with some scraps of chicken wire. Cutting the chicken wire to size was the hardest part of the project. It helps if you take time to find wire snips instead of figuring the kitchen shears are "close enough." Don't ask how I know.

My lovely assistants gathered moss and carefully lined the chicken wire with a cushy planting area for sedum, which will love the airy drainage. I hope.

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And on a side note, does it seem that my sorta-kinda-how-to is really more of a "how not to"?

Case in point. Moss and chicken wire will not support actual sitting.

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I'll share pictures after I plant the sedum, which I have to dig up from between rocks and in a wheelbarrow I planted last year. Then I'll place the whole sculpture (artfully?) in the garden.

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This was a fun, free project and it feels good to be back to making something out of nothing. Very farmgirl frugal of me.

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Also? I know my puns are not that funny. But I crack myself up. And not just when falling through a porch chair.

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What projects are you planning? Planting? Falling into?

Slipped! (Or, it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful)

All linked up to Pink and Polka Dot's slipcover party... there are some seriously beauty-ful slips over there!

Did I promise a picture of a third-trimester slipcovering adventure? (You should click there to see the devastation wrought on one representative cushion.) Did I tell you I could camouflage, nay, bestow new life upon, my old blue-and-pink striped sofa into something a little more restful for our den? And for less than the cost of a mocha at a coffee drive-through?

Well. I wouldn't want anyone to think that the $2.99 is some sort of joke. I don't think I spent even that, unless I counted thread. But if you want to attempt this at home be prepared to raid your fabric stash and, further, to be happy with a mish-mash of prints.

I slipcovered all the t-shaped seat cushions as well as the back cushions. And the ottoman. And the cushion for one wing chair, which is, in its au naturel state oh-so-80s-hunter-green-with-pink-dots.

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But I ran out of steam (and the ability to sit at the sewing machine with my baby bump in the way) for the body of the sofa. So that part's still just tucked and draped.

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So I present to you the (maybe less than) $2.99 family room cover-up. It'll do.

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And it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful. (To me.)

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A few details: The seat cushions on the sofa reverse to match the turkey red paisley on the back cushions. I do have plans to sew a fitted slipcover in cafe-au-lait color for the sofa itself and for the two wing chairs (one is living in another room currently). And I probably will sew cushion covers in the same creamy neutral in case I get in the mood for a less mix-and-match-Ralph-Lauren look. But I'm pretty happy with the interim version, especially since the feathers are no longer flying from the upholstery!

Pushing up daisies? Coming up roses? I forget how it goes.

Last year I saved one little clump of wild daisies at the edge of the garden. I couldn't bear to see them go.

This year they've spread their petals over an area that easily could produce enough, oh, say, peas for my family. What to do? Weeds (be they ever so comely) or food?

Since I didn't plant seventy-five thousand peas like last year, it seems to be working out just fine. The daisies mask my gardening lapse. And they're pretty while they're at it.

Don't be surprised if they work their way up to the house before I manage a solution.

Simple shoe organizer

Do you trip over your children's shoes when you kiss them goodnight? (When you kiss the children, that is, not the shoes.)

Me too.

I used to see shoe bags in the stores. Back when I went to stores. I even have one hanging in the girls' bathroom. But it has a job holding hair ribbons and styling products. Also it is floral, and Madeleine and Sarah are so over a floral bedroom. (Good thing I can still inflict my Laura Ashley sensibilities on the younger two girls.)

So. I measured the bathroom hair ribbon holder and lo and behold decided after that exhausting research that I could sew a shoe holder for the big girls' Saltwater sandals and Converse sneakers, thus saving my toes from bumping into random objects on their floor at night.

(Your obligatory Suite aside: Boots, in this household, are another matter entirely. The Western boots we Suite girls collect basically need their own room. And even if you never, ever click over, you should click on that first one. It's all about me growing a pair. A-hem.)

Without further ado I started hacking up some feedsacks from the abundance of horse feed we go through around here. The colors work with the big girls' room and the theme is certainly appropriate. In case you've not run across this type of feedsack, I'm also known to sew grocery sacks and bookbags from it. It has the feel of oilcloth, it's washable and wipable, and the colors are very vibrant. Also, it's free. First I cut strips twice the width of the vintage pillowcase that I used for the back of the whole shebang. I could have used another feedsack but the girls liked the way this looked together.

Then I pinned the strips down the left and right side in mostly even rows. I sewed using a zig zag stitch for strength.

Then I found the center of each strip and pinned it down. I sewed one long row from top of the shoe holder to the bottom, right down the middle. This left me with big loopy pieces of feedsack strip to the left and right. I I found the center of those and pinned them down, repeating the long row of stitches from top to bottom.

For the final steps I had to make the horizontal rows of feedsack strips into pockets. To do this I pleated and pinned the bottoms only of each row, leaving the tops open to accept shoes.

The hardest part was the pleating. And don't get me wrong: it's not that hard. I started out by measuring and pinning but ended up, in my usual degage way, just eyeballing the pocket pleats. It worked out fine.

I don't have a grommet thingamajig so I used some heavy-duty webbing, sewn in place in smallish loops. Then I hung it from over-the-door hooks.

I think I'll go do a happy dance in the middle of their floor. Right after I find a solution for the boots.

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Easy anything bag

Did I mention the projects are flying from my sewing machine unattended?

I am trying to whittle away at my heap of fabric and shoulda-dones before the baby arrives. Meanwhile the weather outside has cooperated with my efforts by alternating sunshine and hailstorms in breathtakingly fast succession. Too stormy to plant anything? Grow your own laptop/diaper/bookbag:

The last time I blogged about a tote bag I was thinking of Earth Day, going green, and getting the stack of feedsacks stored in my barn down to a husband-acceptable level. That little bag is pretty cute, still, and led to my farmgirl self producing dozens of grocery-style bags made from feedsacks.

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Those're pretty popular in our granola neck of the country. Some cottage industries sell them at our outdoor markets -- people will pay for the empty feedsacks they use as materials -- and they sell for $12 apiece. Yikes. I didn't know that when I started stitching them up. But I even made some for a former neighbor because he stopped at my house and asked for them so many times and then at one point stated that I had promised them to him.

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I didn't remember promising anything but I made the bags for him so he'd stop stopping.

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This new bag is not so indestructable as one made from feedsack material. And it's strictly for myself. It's big enough and padded enough for my laptop computer and has shoulder straps in my favorite paisley. It's washable. Not that that's important to a mom of five.

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For the body of the bag I used a big rectangle of fabric sandwich, quilted on one side. For handles I used a long tube of fabric arranged on the outside of the quilted side, pinned in place before sewing:

I'm not usually that big on pinning, but straps and handles have to be in the right place or they feel weird on your shoulder.

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I also sewed in some inside pockets, measured to fit my phone, my notepad and pens:

(I should mention that the first thing I did was reinforce the very middle of the big rectangle, or the bottom of the bag, with extra layers and triple stitching about an inch wider than my laptop computer is deep. There are products for this that are stiff, enough to make a bag stand up, but I don't find them to be very washing-machine friendly. And, um, I would have had to go to the fabric store for some. 'Nuf said.)

Finally I placed a little rectangular side gusset (is that the right word?) on each side so the bag opens wide enough for whatever:

As an afterthought I also added some little ties to close it at the top.

I took it to the doctor's office yesterday, loaded with crayons and coloring books and the big girls' novels, and got compliments on it in the waiting room.

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I love the fabrics in this so much I may make a few receiving blankets to coordinate.

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But if my ex-neighbor comes asking, I don't manufacture these and y'all need to be my witness: I promised NOTHING. I have enough projects of my own lined up.

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That being said. In the next few days you should bug me if I don't post my other recently finished project -- a shoe organizer made for Madeleine from more feedsacks.