are we still friends?

Posted by sol in I'm not proud, life

In reverse chronological order, things that have kept me away from here:


Cycling in no cycle areas of Hyde Park at dusk.


Grandpa and Grandma visiting and being forced to eat sushi.


Making strudel, and a cookbook entry.


Crafting pirates’ hats.


Keeping house.


Being postgraduate.


These trees.


Making potato clocks.


Telling the kids that if they put their ears together they will hear the ocean so they will pose for a picture.



And naturally, being me:

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fish biscuits

Posted by sol in cuisine or at least food on the plate, I'm not proud, my sons are smarter than me

Santi reminded me today: “Mommeeei, it’s raining. You said that when it was raining we make fish biscuits”. Well, that is true, I promised. And I had managed to avoid them for a couple of rainy days already. This was the day. Since the vegimals (go ahead, I’ll wait) are not here to help me, I decided to take the matter in my own hands. The closest thing to fish biscuits I know are fish crackers. Orange greasy and sometimes rancid atrocities but that’s besides the point. Those fish crackers taste, if somewhat remotely, like cheese. I checked the fridge:

A little dried up remnant of red leicester of my last trip to London; a recently (more or less) expired pack of cheddar from LIDL. Butter, check. Cheddar fish shaped shortbread? Why, that sounds great!


250 grams grated cheddar (the red leicester made it into the first batch and the cheese flavour is  much more delicate, but of course the color is more fish-cracker-like; the second batch (yes, they’re that good) is 100% cheddar and the taste is tangier)
110 grams butter
1 + 1/4 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly, coarsely ground black pepper
1 pinch of cayenne pepper (in the first batch I ditched it fearing that the kids would find them too spicy. In the second batch I put  a generous pinch of it and they’re not spicy but really superior in taste, I’d say more grown up, if it not were for the fact that even the boys preferred them)

Bake at 180°C (350°F) until they’re done (I have no idea how long, but not too long… maybe 10 minutes? I don’t know. You see it when they’re done, because suddenly they look irresistible).


I put my Octonauts to work this time around. Damiano decided fish biscuits could be dachshund biscuits, too.

Santi let us know right away that the dough was tasty.


Now, someone come and take them away because I cannot stop testing them.

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Summer, so far…

Posted by sol in craftulence, cuisine or at least food on the plate, I'm not proud, images, life, my sons are smarter than me, prattle

*ushhhhh* I’m blowing off the dust of this blog (and emptying the shit out of my iphone as you can see)… sorry I’ve been rather busy. We had a bumpy summer start this year, my husband breaking a knee playing football on no other day than summer solstice, and all that endless fun that follows:

Today we got the results of the MRI, and basically it’s pretty broken and we have to decide on a date for surgery. Three weeks in and Michele already took a couple of steps without the crutches. It’s going to be a long summer for him. Children, learn the lesson: don’t play competitive sports.

The amount of gadgetry in this house is ridiculous, but ensures that there’s something for everyone when this mama’s had enough.

Ice-cream makes us all happy. And moustache-y.

And sushi, even more so.

When Santi was serving his last days ever at the nursery (the boy starts pre-school in Autumn), Damiano and I splurged and hit the posh sushi place in Innsbruck one day. The boy is crazy about makis.

Lately it’s been raining ALL THE TIME, but two weeks ago the only thing we were doing was hanging out at the pool. Last year I bought these terry cloth robes (dresses) for the boys, and they loved them. You might have heard me say to someone asking why the BOYS have DRESSES: they’re boy-dresses. We love them.

Damiano does this and it cracks me up. I never thought of doing that. I was too fat.

I love this photo. Damiano looks a lot like my father in it. And Norah is happy, Damiano finally decided he wants to marry her.

We’ve been also celebrating. Nothing in particular. Just that it’s summer and we can be together all the time. Which is nice.

Some guys prefer the batter.

We made vanilla and chocolate cupcakes from this book (which I fully recommend because everything just turns out fantastic) and the kids helped out. It was messy but fun. Also, dinner.

Santi, scientifically proving that I and I only am his mother, ate off all the icing first. (powedered sugar, butter, that’s it). We used liners from Ikea that were wide and low, so more than cupcakes they looked like boobs.

Oh yes, let me show off. I’ve been sewing quite a bit lately (and much much much more to come), and last night I whipped up this skirt. The photo sucks but the light is what it is during our frequent cloudbursts. I’m very proud because: a) it fits like a glove b)I didn’t use a pattern, just improvised. c)the waistband is 100% shirring d)it’s black silk taffeta, so it’s comfy, has a lovely texture (and sound), goes with everything (you just need to pretend you’re a J.Crew model and suddenly the most bizarre combinations look glamorous) and it’s fresh in summer and great in winter with a pair of tights. Seriously, this fucking deserved a blog post of its own. Oh well. oh and it cost about 25€

Ok, that’s all for now. To infinity, and beyond!




Posted by sol in I'm not proud

I rarely write anything personal in here, for a variety of reasons. Among the stalkers and batshit crazy people who come in everyday and go through everything I’ve ever written, my family who come to see my children, and google image search that come and see babies with a long tongue, I don’t really bother. But when I started this blog, at least at the beginning, it was a great way to vent, pretend I was talking to my therapist for free,  and to try to find myself by expressing things I didn’t even know I thought or knew. It didn’t last because I got too lazy to write or because my therapist was really good! Yes, I think that was it.

Some wounds are inexplicably still open, like my father’s and my grandfather’s death, or like the conditions in which Damiano was born. It’s very exhausting, to try and pretend these things are not there, and it’s exhausting that they’re there in the first place, and that’s why I cannot keep it up.

see you all.

(or not)



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little by little

Posted by sol in craftulence, I wanted to be an architect, I'm not proud

Please never lose your faith in me. I am a mess in all my undertakings, always too many and almost all at once. But it’s just because I’m slow and I have some attention deficit issues. But, sooner or later, I deliver. Here you go, three years after the first step in this strenuous project, and one and a half years after the second, the three back cushions of my sofa in their new covers. Less than a week after the completion of the much put off sewing, they’re already smeared with chocolate and other unknown substances, but it’s fine, you know why? because they’re finally brown.


With the same spirit, I finally managed to finish the curtains in our studio. This was probably the most unexpected project for me to finish, because a series of technical issues that seemed just unsurmountable (think ripping 24 meters of stupid seams) kept me even from thinking of tackling the job. I couldn’t have done it without Patricia’s visit, which constrained me to finally clean the craphole it had turned into. And thanks to my awesome mother-in-law, who helped me clean and purge the mountains of stuff I had buried in there, and upon finding the material for said curtains, offered to help. She managed in one hour what I hadn’t in a year or two. And then I just did some math and sewed some pleats. ta-daaaaaa

for these I bought two pairs of Ikea Lenda curtains  (back in the day when I got them , they cost 25 euros, and they were available in light blue) which are meant to hang vertically. I took off the tabs, sewed the pleats, and hung them horizontally. All in all it was a breeze because the size was purrrr-fect. The material is a lovely indian cotton with the right translucency. 50 euros and 20 months: perfection.

Next up, getting rid of the hot pink wall, painting it a very dark aubergine. Perhaps this weekend.

Oh, and let me brag about my new found working space. I was so buried in shit that not even Schliemann would’ve found it. Now it’s all nice!

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Summer, part 1.

Posted by sol in I'm not proud

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Loteria notebooks

Posted by sol in craftulence, designer, I'm not proud

School is out tomorrow for 3 months! YAY.

I wanted to make something for Damiano’s preschool teachers who are super nice and have a ton of patience and always make me wonder how on earth can anyone do that job. I didn’t have much time, but I also want Damiano to grow up capable of showing appreciation, because there’s nothing I hate more than children who are selfish entitled little shits. So here’s to my attempt to make him learn that saying thank you is important.

Ingredients for 6 notebooks:

6 illustrations from Mexican loteria boards.
6 pieces of heavy cardstock: I used some remnants of Enrico and Elena ‘s wedding invitations, 250gr/sqm card. They were handy because already straight.
6 sheets of colored construction paper. I used IKEA’s, but something even heavier would have been better.
12×6 pages from old notebooks. I dismembered the old notebooks from my previous life as an aspiring economist.

I put the cardboard on the sheets of paper and sewed them together in the middle, like this:

Then I cut out the excess paper:

Then I folded them along the stitch, and then made a dust jacket out of the colored construction paper.

And I fixed it to the cover with one of my moo stickers. A touch of fucking class.

Then I cut out a loteria board. I would have loved to glue la muerte or la calavera or el diablo, but I don’t know that everyone shares my sense of humor.

Ta- daaaaaa!






party gifts.

Posted by sol in craftulence, I'm not proud

All the girls I didn’t birth must be in limbo, rejoicing that I’m not their mother.

Here’s a little sample of the shit they would never have been able to come close to.


underage hooker style barbie. Keep this away from the prime minister.


oh look! the hooker had a baby!

who dipped my favourite toy in the pepto bismal?

exotic-ish hooker, probably a shemale.


Happy birthday Emma!



happy birthday bunting

Posted by sol in craftulence, I'm not proud, my sons are smarter than me

My baby turned 4 today!!!!!

It seems like decades ago that we were at the NICU, but it also seems like weeks ago that we were celebrating his 2nd birthday. It’s crazy.


I was feeling horrible today because I decided that since his party will be next thursday he really didn’t need to know that his actual birthday was today. I remember as a kid, when my birthday and my party didn’t happen on the same day I was underwhelmed by both, and it doesn’t really matter because he doesn’t know and will not know…. but still I feel like I cheated him and I hate it.

So I sewed this lovely birthday bunting out of pure unadulterated guilt.

I cut triangles out of some ikea fabric scraps, and green and blue solids I had lying around…

I cut out letters, freehand, from an old pillowcase and sewed them on with my Bernina’s blanket appliquè stitch.

Right sides together, I sandwiched the ikea triangles and the letter triangles. Then, turned them inside out.

The piled up fast.

Using the bias tape I made months ago, I sewed them together with a loop at each end, to hang it from.

There! pretty!

Coming up next: photos from the party. Airplane cake, rice crispy treats and lots of balloons!



the artists formerly known as…

Posted by sol in art, I'm not proud, my sons are smarter than me

Outsourcing my christmas card production….

If I have your address, expect one of these :)

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