{bird feeder fail}

Have you always wanted to use every bowl and utensil you own, all at once, and cover your kitchen in corn syrup and birdseed? Yes! Try this -- make bird feeders with three toddlers. 

Tilly's friend, Selah, was a pro at mixing and cutting out the animals, while little Radley enjoyed banging the measuring spoons together, and Tilly tried her hardest to sneak mouthfuls of the birdseed from the spoon, while exclaiming "Yummy!"

We got to try out our new IKEA woodland creatures cutters -- lovely hedgehogs, bears and moose, and, of course, a Dala horse -- which took on a more abstract quality when created in birdseed. Sadly, the recipe I'd found (from here) wasn't very good, or we measured wrongly, as our menagerie of feeders never hardened. Twenty-four hours later, slick and shiny with grease, their heads fell off as I slipped a spatula beneath them.

The food was still enjoyed by the birds, but as sticky blobs and crumbling hunks, scattered on the grass, rather than prettily hung in the trees.

With three-quarters of a bag of birdseed still left, we'd love to hear about your (successful) homemade bird feeders, if you've got any, and give them a try...

{getting geometric, paint-chip style}

One of these days, we hope to paint the kitchen a stormy, stony grey. But rather than live with dozens of grey paint swatches taped haphazardly to the wall, I thought it better to give all those samples a point (or three).

Poor Pinterest followers, you've been patiently putting up with months of pins simply labelled "triangles". I love them, the trinity of shapes, just as good right-angled as isosceles, stacked or built into squares.

Some recent favourites:

1. Castle artwork, via Tres Plus Cool  2. Anthropologie quilt  3. Znak mosaic wall decals, via Apartment Therapy  4.  Susanna Vento interior, via Emma's Design Blogg

The pattern I finally settled on is a take on the "flying geese" pattern in quilting -- a pattern I have yet to attempt with fabric, but love the directionality of. If I remember anything from art teachers of yore, it's that every part of a painting works to lead your eye somewhere, and the overall effect can be static or dynamic -- dull or interesting.

Using triangles is perhaps rather an obvious way to explore that idea -- arrows for the eye to follow! -- but a nice base from which to play with colour. Greys, blacks, the palest of pinks... and a little red, of course.

Yes, that's a two-step tutorial -- cut triangle, stick triangle. Repeat.

Note: Glidden's paint samples are by far the best to make things out of, being large, solid squares of colour, without any fancy poke-a-part-out bits. 

Also note: For the backing, I used a sheet of cut-it-yourself mat board. A large piece of paper would work as well, but I've lost the glass to my frame and need something a bit sturdier so there's no mid-section flop-down. 

And a note for Justin: This has been up in the kitchen for four days now -- please notice soon!

{diy: cross-stitched garden markers}

Thanks to the lovely weather, we got planting last weekend, and have set ourselves up for a rather tasty year with some favourite herbs. (That's hhhhh-erbs, just to be clear.) To be sure we remember who is who, and don't end up eating our flowers, I made each plant a little marker out of clay.

All you need is a packet of modeling clay (I used Sculptey), some alphabet stamps, and a needle and thread. A 2oz packet of clay (which costs 30 - 50 cents) makes 4 garden markers.

The trick to adding the cross-stitch is to sew through the clay just as soon as it's cool enough to handle (about two minutes after it came out of the oven). Be careful, it's rather hot at first! If you wait more than ten minutes, though, the clay might be too hard already. My advice -- bake them in batches of three or four, to allow yourself enough time to sew them all before they harden.

I'd love to know what you've been planting this year, and am eager for any tips about what grows well in Texas!

{confessions of tillyless tuesdays}

I was just going to show you the sweet little baby head with its sweet little baby mullet and the progress on tilly tuesdays: volume II, but then I decided I should tell you the truth. The truth is, I haven't consciously taken a photo of Tilly on a Tuesday for sixteen weeks. There have been plenty of photos, and there have been the usual amount of Tuesdays, but if they've occurred together, it's been purely by chance.

If you remember, tilly tuesdays: volume one was a handmade book of photographs, taken each Tuesday of Tilly's first year. Ah, younger Astrid, and her need for perfection. Once, late on a Tuesday evening, she did the unthinkable -- the most taboo act of motherhood -- she woke a baby just for an authentic Tuesday photo. (Yes, I can hear your collective gasp, echoing around the world... don't worry, I've learnt my lesson.)

But earlier today, wanting to read an email without being asked to see "beh-bee? beh-bee?" (and then screamed at when the email had no baby in it), I pulled down volume one. Fifty-two weeks of beh-bee, in handy sit-on-the-floor format. Peace. And then I realised --  today is Tuesday, and I hadn't yet taken a photo. I didn't take a photo last Tuesday, the Tuesday before, or any of the fourteen great-great-grand-Tuesdays that came before that.

Luckily, present-day Astrid cares very much less about perfection. "Ah, close enough," was my mantra of the afternoon photo sorting, along with "If I tell myself enough that the dates are accurate, I won't know the difference." Sorry, future Astrid, it doesn't sound like I've got much faith in your memory. At least I've labelled the book for you so you'll know which child is in the photos. You're welcome.

Okay, enough words. You're here for the photos, I know.

While the first volume was full of milestones like Tilly smiling or eating food for the first time, this year the firsts are of a rather different nature. Two months ago: the first time she sailed around a miniature version of the world in a Lego boat. A month ago: the first time she picked up a ladybird. A week ago: the first time she really played with a friend, rather than just trying to hit him on the head with toys (sorry, Ewan). 

And that is why I have to keep it up -- so that all these photos don't fade into the jumble of "when she was little," but get to tell their stories and take their place in this weekly history of a person. Well, that, and I love the thought of teenage Tilly going to the photobooth each week to take her picture, twenty-year-old Tilly taking blurry self-portraits on a 'vintage' iPhone, eighty-year-old Tilly sleeping in a room full of filing cabinets (a la Bill Cunningham) filled totally with Tuesday photos... 

...let's see, 80 years x 52 weeks = 4160 photos. Okay, she'd probably just have them on a CD. 

{the leaning tower of cupcakes}

Step back in time two weeks. Take one ninetieth birthday party, two days to get it all sorted, three tons of moving supplies from my parents' garage, and a glimpse of this Lakeland cardboard beauty. It could only be a job for the butcher, the baker, and the cupcake stand maker.

It all centred around sliding artist's palette-shaped cardboard pieces onto an old kitchen roll. Now, if Kate Spade or Paul Smith made kitchen roll, this is what it'd look like: brightly striped. Unfortunately, neither of them has had that idea yet, so I used coloured tape (that matched our cupcake flags) to cheery the whole thing up a bit. Because, let's face it, bare cardboard hardly says "Get your party on." 

What does say "Get your party on" is a dozen Bakewell cupcakes (again, from our recipe, inspired by Britain's second best amateur baker, Holly). As do the Union Jack cake cups. But what most definitely does not help the party mood is when adding the cupcakes to your cupcake stand makes the whole thing topple over. Ever think you're going to be the least popular person in the room? Well, drop twelve Bakewells on the floor fifteen minutes before a hoard of hungry pensioners arrive, and you will be. Guaranteed.

Kitchen weights to the rescue. Of course, meticulous Holly might throw a razor-edged meringue at me if she were to see her prized cakes being served on such a precarious pile of old cardboard and rusting metal. But she'd have to throw it rather hard to reach me in Texas, so I feel relatively safe showing you the photos now.

So, there you have it -- cardboard box to cupcake monstrosity in twenty-five moderately difficult steps. What can I say, at least it didn't overshadow the cakes. Which were, as always, scrummy. 

{diy: washi tape flags}

Washi tape. Chances are you've seen a roll in a pattern you can't resist, and bought it. Chances are, once you've got one roll, you've decided to become a washi collector. Chances are, you now have an entire cupboard piled high with red tape, blue tape, tape with musical notes, with Japanese stamps, with the entire words of Shakespeare printed in miniature. 

But what do you actually do with the stuff?

You make flags. And then you make cupcakes. And then you stick the flags into the cupcakes and have a jolly good time.

Having made millions hundreds dozens of little flags for Mossa's birthday earlier this week, I've got the method down. Is it so basic that you could probably do it in your sleep already? Yes. Am I going to share it anyway? Yes. It might save you a bit of awkward finger/scissor/tape/cocktail stick manoeuvring.

(Are you drooling over those cakes above? Bakewell Cupcakes, baked by my sister, Alice, they use The Best Cupcake Ever recipe that I shared the other day)

You'll need:

• scissors
• cocktail sticks (long or short. I prefer long as you can cut them to make short ones, too)
• washi tape

Pull one end of the tape out, a good ten centimetres, and place the unpokey (i.e. 'blunt', for people who use 'real' words) end of a cocktail stick in the middle of the length of tape.

Fold the end of the tape over the top of the cocktail stick, sticking it to the tape on the other side of the stick. (Note: at first I was very worried about lining up the edges on both sides of the tape, but then got over myself and decided it looked quite nice uneven anyway.)

Snippy snippy. One straight cut, to separate the flag from the roll of tape, and two pointy cuts, if you like the snake-tongue effect. 

Here's another case of unnecessary worrying -- I oh-so-carefully measured the first two or three flags, and then decided that it was all a bit faffy, really, and decided to enjoy a variety of lengths of flag. Perfectly imperfect. Or, so I tell myself. We also scribbled '90' onto the flags in a very imperfect and blobby blue biro. 

We stuck the flags in cupcakes. We stuck them in Fruit Pastilles. We stuck them in Cadbury's Giant Chocolate Buttons. We slotted them into the holes in Polo mints. I even poked a couple into the tail feathers of my Mum's favourite straw chickens, to give them a bit of festive 'pluck'. In short: stick a flag in anything, and it becomes more exciting. 

So, tell me: am I wrong? Do you have tons of uses for washi tape? Have you never heard of the stuff, much less been tempted to buy any? Or do you, in fact, have the complete works of Chaucer on washi tape instead?

{diy: custom sketch pad}

What do you buy for the artist in your life? You know, the person who always gives you personalised paintings, artwork they've slaved over. For my granddad's 90th birthday, I found him a nice big sketchpad, but was rather unimpressed by the grizzly brown banana on the cover. Really, who gets inspired by rotting fruit? 

To make it a little more special, I gave it a little make-over, adding a custom cover. While I ripped the original cover off in a fit of anti-banana rage, I'd advise you to peel it off carefully. But then again, a good angry rip does feel rather good.

Print out a photo, for your new cover, onto photo paper (the heavier-weight works well to protect the pad). I used a photo of Tilly trying to steal Mossa's walking stick and chew on it -- at the time it provided a good laugh for both of them.

At this point, I found that the photo paper and the sketch pad were, unfortunately, different sizes -- the photo was a few millimetres wider, but also more than a centimetre shorter. The extra width was easy to remove, by trimming the photo with a paper cutter...

...but adding length proved a bit more difficult. Eventually, I used a fat bit of white packing tape -- lining up the bottoms of the photograph and the pad, and using the tape to fill the gap. Yes, this cuts about a centimetre off each page of the pad, but it seemed to stick it all together quite well. 

Tip: I found that using a generous bit of tape (i.e. extra on both sides), and letting the top of the pad hang off the table while you're taping helps it all to look a bit neater.

Trim the packing tape, and bend it over the top off the pad, and around the back (covering any scruffy marks left from where you ripped off the previous cover).

Hopefully, Mossa will remember his afternoons with Tilly whenever he does a little sketching.

In case his memory does fail, we penned a quick note in the front cover, just reminding Mossa who the pad was from (and how old he is). Add a pack of his favourite drawing pencils, and it's ready to be wrapped. Quick. Simple. And, hopefully, a good way to ensure you keep getting those lovely framed sketches as pressies. Everybody wins.

Do you have any quick presents to whip up for friends and family?  Please share -- I've got a little collection going here. With Christmas approaching, we're all looking for inspiration!

{a ninetieth birthday in photos}

It's the end of a long day of party poppers, pass the parcel, and Polo mints -- a ninetieth birthday party with personality. As all of our energy has been used up, scrambling to get the biscuits baked before the old folks arrived for their lunch, I'm simply going to show you some photos and go to bed. (With a leftover biscuit... or two!) 

{creative ways to record your travels}

We haven't even left yet, and already I can't resist thinking about how we'll record our trip to Denmark. Of course, we're planning to build our postcard shelves (which, due to warped planks, will now be when we get back), so we'll be sure to pick up a nice Danish postkort to display. But, loving maps as much as we do, here are a few other ideas for remembering trips:

This felt pillow has been embroidered with travel routes, each trip in a different colour. Just don't try to fly from Los Angeles to Japan -- you'll have to go the long way round! (Paola of Atelier Pompadour, via Apartment Therapy)

Feeling stitchy, but don't want to bother with all that felt? What about these simple postcards, onto which you sew your journey. Perfect for our upcoming postcard wall! (Uncommon Goods)

Add a little scent to a postcard collection with these lavendar-filled postcard sachets. Probably not worth the risk of getting them through customs, but buy an extra stamp while you're away, and sew these up at home. (Victoria)

Frame photos, using maps as matting. Choosing a map of the destination where the photo was taken will make it extra special. (Martha Stewart)

And, if you love your maps so much you can't bear to cut them, frame the whole thing in an embroidery hoop! (Brigitte.de)

These pillows bring maps down from the wall and turn them from crinkly to cuddly. We are playing with the idea of having a map theme in our guest room, so these would be fun on the bed. (My Bearded Pigeon, via Re-nest)

And as the guest room is also serving as Justin's office at the moment, this map-covered stag would be right at home. Could we make it a moose, though, please? (Steph Goralnik, on Flickr)

Okay, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away here, but if we're going map-crazy, why not throw in this  map chandelier, too? With a $5 IKEA light-kit, I'm sure this would DIY in no time. (Umbu)

Do you have any travel traditions? Any special souvenirs you try to find while you're away? It looks like we'll have to save space in our suitcase to bring a map or two home with us!