Today Catie and I made window boxes for our apartment. We have a concrete sill outside that is the perfect size but we had no way to mount a box there and did not want it to fall on the head of a passerby if a wind came up.
Our solution: we drilled holes in the box near the edges and ran a chain through. On the inside, the hole is halfway up the box so that it’s at window level, and on the front the chain emerges at the top (under the lip) and runs to the other side. The ends of the chain are nailed into the underside of the wooden sill.
An older man at Home Depot named Siegfried cut the chain for us and explained each step as he did it. He folded the chain up and wrapped a piece of blue painter’s tape around it and said, “you’re getting the blue ribbon treatment.” He was wearing American flag suspenders.
We planted basil, cilantro, chives, rosemary, tarragon, and parsley. For the two boxes, soil, chain, plants, and a watering can, the cost was about $60. We are excessively proud of ourselves and the cats won’t leave the windows.
I didn’t realize I could love Parks & Rec more, but there you go.
Scenes from my parents’ phones: Publican brunch.
A knitted anatomy lesson by Shanell Papp
Papp on the project:
To make the work, I borrowed a human skeleton from the university and collected anatomical textbooks. I also managed to track down a mortuary gurney for displaying the work–a mortuary gave me a gurney after a renovation…they were looking to get rid of it since “people are were getting too fat for the gurney.” I also worked in an old hospital turned history museum. I also went to open house day at a local funeral…they gave me a decorative pen. During my graduate studies, I was granted open access to the gross anatomy lab, though I was long finished making LAB/skeleton at this point. I was given access to draw, look around…. It is always funny how specimens are collected and cared for.
So much cool knitting in this world.
This is clearly crocheted rather than knitted, but still highly relevant to my interests.
“I saw the peculiar way America creeps up on you if you don’t have anything,” he told me. “It’s never rude. It’s just, Yes, you do have to work 14 hours. And yes, you do have to ride the bus home. You’re now the father of two and you will work in that cubicle or you will be dishonored. Suddenly the universe was laden with moral import, and I could intensely feel the limits of my own power. We didn’t have the money, and I could see that in order for me to get this much money, I would have to work for this many more years. It was all laid out in front of me, and suddenly absurdism wasn’t an intellectual abstraction, it was actually realism. You could see the way that wealth was begetting wealth, wealth was begetting comfort — and that the cumulative effect of an absence of wealth was the erosion of grace.”