When I was working on my master’s degree, I also had to learn how to use Chicago/Turabian citations. Before that, I’d had classes that required MLA and APA, but Chicago/Turabian turned out to be a whole different beast. No matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to lose a point or two because I’d gotten something wrong.
When it came time to write my thesis, I decided I wasn’t dealing with that anymore. Every time I accessed a source, I wrote down everything about it: title, author(s), publication date, publisher, and anything else I might need. Then I wrote down the correct format for the first footnote, subsequent footnotes, and the bibliography.
That meant that when I was actually writing, I could just write. I didn’t have to stop every few minutes to figure out how I was supposed to cite something and potentially lose my train of thought. And when the paper itself was finished, dealing with the citations was a whole lot easier.
A few months ago, I found myself thinking, “I wish I’d had something like this way back when…” And then the lightbulb went off. Why not make it? If it made my life easier, maybe I could save someone else from suffering through the same thing.
As it turns out, making the templates took more time than learning Chicago/Turabian in the first place.
I had to jump straight into the deep end with Scribus, the open-source design tool I’d found. I have to admit, I said some fairly offensive words to Scribus during the process, but luckily it’s not a person I’d have to apologize to later.
I can’t say that I’ve beaten Scribus, mastered it, or even reached anything resembling ease of use, but I at least remembered to save my completed pages as templates so I don’t continue to tear out my hair.
Some days just don’t go very well. Some days seem like every attempt at anything at all just doesn’t work. Then you need a win.
This doesn’t mean it has to be perfect…just something that sort of works.
I needed a “brain break” (for lack of a better term) but I still wanted to practice something. I decided to find a bookbinding technique that was easier than Coptic or Japanese stab binding, but I didn’t want to do accordion binding, which is basically folding paper like an accordion and sticking a cover on each end.
Pamphlet binding it is! I found a tutorial for five-hole and got to work. I wanted to keep it simple, so I got 8 sheets of printer paper and a piece of my 250gsm cardstock. Plus, of course, my bookbinding tools.
I took the sheets of paper and folded them in half all together, the same way I did for my Coptic attempts. I used the handle of the knife to really crease the folds and keep paper creep at a minimum (I am terrible at trimming, as seen later). Note: I used the knife because it works just as well (IMO) as a bone folder and it is something I already have on hand.
I scored the cover separately and I am not sure why, so I will probably try everything together next time and hopefully not have to trim.
Scored pamphlet with obvious need of trimming.
I decided to sew, then trim. Which wasn’t the best option, but hey, it was my first time.
So…first I marked where the holes should be for sewing. Then I used my awl to poke holes through. Pretty straightforward.
Here is the inside of the pamphlet after the first stitch:
I do have trouble with the waxed string I am using – it is hard to pull it tightly without ripping the paper, so in the future, I need to find something in between this and the regular sewing thread I have at home.
A few minutes later, I finished the stitching:
I think it looks cool! Simple, but cool and useful.
Okay, I promised to talk about trimming…as shown above, the paper was sticking out of the side of the cover quite noticeably. And if you’ve read my other posts, you know this is unacceptable.
So I got out the cutting mat and an x-acto knife. I had to set something heavy on the pamphlet so the pamphlet wouldn’t suddenly shift, the knife wouldn’t launch into my finger/hand, and give me yet another (!) X-Acto knife scar. Don’t ask how I got the first one because it was just me doing something too quickly and without thinking through the issue.
I was trying to be soooooo careful here. And then I sliced through the edges of the cover multiple times. Which caused a lot of not-so-nice words to flow out of my mouth.
Hence…I need a better trimming method. Trimming a finished pamphlet with an X-Acto knife and hoping I wouldn’t hit the cover was apparently not it.
Anyway, if you don’t look too closely, it turned out mostly fine. And once I practice a bit more, I feel confident I can resize future notebooks and use them in the traveler’s notebook-style cover I made a few months ago. Which means I could eventually make my own refills instead of ordering more.
I have had the worst time trying to learn how to crochet and/or knit. I can “cast on” (knitting), which goes on the needle in the dominant hand (in my case, the right). Then when you start the knit stitch, somehow I have to swap hands so the cast on needle is in my left hand, then stick the right needle in there and make some kind of magic that results in knitting. So obviously the cast on stitches fell right off, and obviously again, I threw the needles across the room.
Now for crochet…this one was a tad easier for me but I had to work in stages. The first two times I tried, I could get a chain but then no magic. The third time, I was able to get one row. The fourth time, I was able to get two rows. I have not tried again, because to get to those results required unraveling my chain at least four times.
Then…I found something called Tunisian crochet. Supposedly it is easier than both knitting and regular crochet, and results in material that resembles knitting more than crochet, and potentially uses less yarn. I do like things that use less resources…
I got my Tunisian crochet hooks yesterday (because of course I had to order them immediately). I got out the yarn from my “easy” learn to crochet kit.
So here is where the frustration starts…my initial learning resource was a 1970s Reader’s Digest The Complete Guide to Needlework. I had always enjoyed looking at this as a child, but for actual learning, vague drawings and pictures of a finished stitch just aren’t enough for me. Moreover, this book assumes one already knows regular crochet before a 1/8 page dip into Tunisian.
Thus, I headed to Google to find a tutorial. I found one that looked promising, but again, it seemed to assume I already knew how to crochet…or at least the lingo. I had instructions such as “YO [yarn over for those who also don’t know the lingo] and draw up a loop.” What? The result of this was a stranglehold on my needle and nowhere to go.
I had to ask ChatGPT to translate these instructions for me, and it happily complied. Thank goodness! So in less than an hour, I now have a few forward and return passes. Once I was able to figure out what everything meant, it turned out to be fairly easy. Other than the tension issues of course. And perhaps…actually counting my stitches correctly.
But I feel like this is going to grow into something I can actually use to make things! And not enrage me to the point I am throwing needles across the room.
Please excuse the obvious tension and miscounting issues here. And when I say this is somewhat “easy,” I don’t mean I’ll master it anytime soon. I mean that, unlike my previous attempts at knitting and crochet, I can actually imagine making something with it.
There is now a reasonable possibility of a scarf within the next six months.
I lost count of forward and return passes…perhaps four?
One of the things I am most excited about is making paper to add to my shop. For now, I am using scraps straight from the paper shredder until I get better at this.
First, I bought a cheap papermaking kit online. It is A4 size and came with a mold, a deckle, couch sheets, a couple of loose screens, and a small sponge.
The mold has a fine mesh that catches the paper fibers from the water slurry. The deckle is a frame without a screen that helps define the size and edges of the paper. The loose screen can be placed between the mold and deckle to support the wet pulp and allow water to drain. The couch sheets are used to transfer the wet paper and absorb moisture, while the little sponge helps remove even more water before the paper is laid out to dry.
The first thing you need to do is soak your scraps. Having a paper shredder is very handy here; otherwise, you have to tear everything up by hand. Put however much paper you want to use into a container, then add enough water to completely cover it.
Let the scraps soak for a few hours to make sure they are soft. I soaked mine overnight so I wouldn’t have to worry about whether they were ready.
Small amount of scraps that I soaked overnight.
Once you feel the paper has soaked enough, it is time to turn it into pulp. I had a blender we weren’t using anymore, and using a blender is by far the easiest way to do this. Other suggestions I came across included using a potato masher or even a mallet.
Put a small amount of the soaked paper into your blender and add water until the blender is about three-quarters full. I recommend using a small amount of paper at a time so you don’t gum up the blades.
I set the blender at its lowest speed and pulsed it for about 30 seconds. You want the finished pulp to look kind of like oatmeal.
I had an empty dish bin that I decided to use as my papermaking vat. This turned out to be a little too small, but I made it work. As I blended each batch of pulp, I dumped it into the bin. Once all the scraps had been turned into pulp, I was finally ready to try making an actual sheet of paper.
The ChatGPT instructions had me put the deckle over the mold, then scoop the whole thing through the slurry. This leaves what will eventually become a piece of paper sitting on the mold. You can shake it gently from side to side, almost like you’re mining for gold, to distribute the pulp evenly.
I was a bit too heavy-handed with this part and had to do it multiple times before I managed to get the pulp to cover the entire mold.
Once I finally had a decent sheet, I set the mold on the edge of the bin until the water slowed from flowing to dripping. Then I laid a couch sheet on top and flipped the whole thing over so the couch sheet was against the counter. I gently used the sponge to remove as much additional water as I could.
These instructions had me put one of the loose screens between the mold and deckle, but otherwise the scooping process was basically the same.
As you can see, that attempt left a bubble in the middle.
Silly me, I decided I could fix it with my finger.
I could not.
Instead of a bubble, I now had a hole.
I grabbed some pulp that was stuck to the frame, filled the hole back in, and pressed it down. You’ll see the results of that little repair later…
I took both sheets, still attached to their couch sheets, outside to dry. Unfortunately, it was a bit windy. Once everything started drying, I heard, “Hey, something just flew away outside.”
Luckily, I had set up a wind block, so the paper didn’t get far.
It was, however, definitely not flat anymore.
I brought both sheets back inside and laid them under some books to finish flattening.
So…here is the final result:
Overall, I am really pleased with how this turned out—especially for my first attempt. Neither sheet is perfect, but that’s part of why I wanted to start with shredded scrap paper instead of anything special.
Now that I know I can actually make paper, I can’t wait to try again with some of the other paper I have lying around!
Right now, I’m drying several kinds of herbs—some for cooking and others for future tinctures and infused oils. The problem is that I’ve officially run out of space.
One thing I’m especially excited about is that I was finally able to harvest calendula seeds. This is my second year growing them, and it’s the first time I’ve managed to collect seeds from my own plants. There’s something incredibly satisfying about knowing next year’s flowers can come from this year’s garden.
The top of the bookshelf in my office is covered with plates and coffee filters full of drying herbs. As one batch finishes, I jar it up and replace it with another. There’s even a bundle of lavender hanging from a wall-mounted desk organizer.
Storage has become its own project. My herb cabinet is such a disaster that I don’t want to mix the new harvest with the old, so the culinary herbs have taken over a different cabinet. The calendula-infused oil lives there too, and once I bottle it, those bottles will need a home as well.
I’m also pressing flowers. Since I don’t own a flower press, I’m improvising with paper, a storage container, and a very heavy book balanced on top. That setup currently lives on another bookshelf.
Eventually, I’d like my Etsy shop to carry physical products, which means I’ll have to rethink the entire room. So far, my best idea is turning an old slatted bookshelf support into a drying rack for herb bundles. Beyond that, I’m still figuring it out.
And don’t even get me started on next year’s seedlings. Apparently my cat decided this year’s starts made an excellent lunch, so I’ll need to find a much safer location.
I’m certainly not complaining—having more herbs than I know where to put is a pretty good problem to have, especially while I wait for the tomatoes to ripen. But wow…everything needs a permanent home.
One of the things I’ve realized this year is that I don’t really collect hobbies.
From the outside, it probably looks like I bounce from one thing to another. Gardening. Bookbinding. Norwegian. Citation templates. Herbs. Cocktails. Ancient history.
They’re all over the place.
To me, though, they’re all the same hobby.
I like understanding how things work.
The garden has made that clearer than anything else. Before this year, companion planting was something I’d read about. Soil composition was something I’d heard people discuss. Medicinal herbs were mostly names in books.
Now I get to watch it happen.
I’m seeing why one bed dries out faster than another. Why some plants seem happier next to certain neighbors. Which herbs attract pollinators and which ones don’t. Which vegetables struggle through a heat wave while others barely notice. It’s no longer just biology in a textbook. It’s biology happening in my backyard.
That’s probably why my garden is organized the way it is. It isn’t the most efficient layout, and I’ve certainly spent more time weeding because of it. But separating plants by water needs, companion planting, shade, and other variables lets me see what works and what doesn’t. I’m treating the garden as one giant experiment.
The same thing happens with my other projects.
I didn’t start making notebooks because I thought notebooks were too expensive. I started because I wanted to understand how books are made. Every mistake teaches me something, and every notebook gets a little better than the last.
I originally started learning Norwegian because I had a reason to. Somewhere along the way, though, the language became the reward. I enjoy the grammar, I enjoy listening to it, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for using it in Oslo, even if it was only a little.
The citation bundles might be the clearest example of all. I don’t enjoy formatting bibliographies. I enjoy solving problems, and I kept thinking about how much easier graduate school would have been if I’d had something like this on my desk.
Maybe that’s why all of these projects seem connected to me, even if they don’t to anyone else.
I had an idea for an Etsy product several weeks ago, but life happened and I had to put it on the back burner for a bit. But! I finally finished it, created my Etsy store, and listed my first product.
I have felt very overwhelmed during this process. Yesterday, I decided that I didn’t need an entire shop. I didn’t need ten products, or perfect branding, or a grand plan stretching years into the future. I just needed one product. Just the first one.
And just like that, I took the tiniest step imaginable to share something I made with other people.
I don’t care if my shop goes viral. I don’t care if I become the next Martha Stewart, but with study guides. I simply wanted to take that first step.
Honestly, I think that’s the hardest part of any new project. Not becoming an expert. Not making hundreds of things. Just being willing to begin.
So today, I am celebrating one tiny step. The rest can come later.
And if anyone is curious, my little corner of Etsy can be found at Tartan Vegan. I welcome feedback, suggestions, and gentle corrections as I continue learning.
I don’t know what it is this week, but everything I’ve tried for the second time seems to have been far more difficult than the first.
I managed a row of single crochet for the first time, then immediately discovered I was incapable of doing it again. And this notebook…
When I made my River Song planner cover, I removed the paper block completely intact—glue, stitching, and all. Naturally, this led me to think, “Why not make a tiny, tiny A6 Coptic notebook?”
I already knew black paper behaves more like cardstock than regular paper, so I planned accordingly: four signatures, two sheets per signature, plus some black cardstock I already had set aside for the covers.
First, either the cardstock I bought is too heavy, or someone on the internet lied to me about how well it would work.
Second, my bookbinding needles are apparently designed for projects much larger than a delicate little A6 notebook.
Third, my only thread option was from an upholstery repair kit that, for reasons known only to the manufacturer, included regular sewing thread. That was probably a blessing for a notebook this small, but it’s definitely not going to hold up for anything larger or thicker.
By the time I finished, I had used several words I wouldn’t say in front of my mother.
The upside of making such a tiny notebook is that it’s difficult to see the sewing details. Since I don’t think my stitching was particularly impressive, that’s probably for the best.
But hey—once again, it lays flat.
At this point, I’m beginning to think that’s becoming my signature accomplishment.
Get it? Signature?
Pages repurposed from a different notebook.Front cover with holes.Finished notebook from the side.It lays flat!
One thing I was determined to do last weekend was attempt a Coptic-bound notebook. I’ve made one with Japanese stab binding in the past, but I haven’t tried it again since then.
So… I almost didn’t try this at all.
When I went to cut my letter-sized paper in half using a Swingline paper guillotine, I discovered the ruler isn’t exactly… accurate. I lined the paper up at 5.75″ (half), and somehow ended up with one side at about 60% and the other at 40%.
All the Amazon reviews talk about how accurate this thing is, so I have to assume they meant the cutting quality—not the measurements. I even watched a long tutorial on how to use it. There was a whole section on the ruler, and the creator never mentioned measurements—just that you can’t cut anything smaller than an inch.
Not very helpful, right?
Inaccurate ruler on the paper guillotine
At that point, I stopped fighting the guillotine and just folded the paper in half before cutting. Not ideal, but I also didn’t expect to need conversions just to cut paper.
I had already folded the signatures the night before and left them under a heavy book overnight. I added the freshly cut covers to the stack and briefly decided I wasn’t going to attempt the project at all.
But then I finished everything else on my list.
So I tried anyway—while watching my baseball game.
I gathered what I needed: a pencil, an actual ruler, a cutting mat, my upholstery repair kit, and my bookbinding needles. The thread in the repair kit is waxed, and I figured that would be perfect since it’s strong.
Bookbinding tools
Spoiler: it was not perfect.
I couldn’t get the stitching tight enough, and when I tried to force it, one of the holes in the cover ripped. At that point, I committed to the chaos—this was officially a prototype.
Then I learned that your thread needs to be long enough for the entire notebook, not one piece per signature. So I had to add more thread partway through. It’s visible if you look for it, but honestly… not terrible.
By the time I finished and attached the cover, I had a notebook that definitely lays flat—but also has noticeable gaps between the signatures because of the loose tension.
Trade-offs.
Lays flat but thread is too loose
Afterward, I made a template for poking holes in the covers and signatures, which actually turned out well. I used the awl from my upholstery kit for this.
(Important note: DO THIS ON A CUTTING MAT or your hardwood floors will reject you forever. I, for once, made the correct life choice and used the cutting mat.)
Hole template
What I learned:
Don’t use waxed thread on 92 lb cardstock and regular printer paper
Don’t trust a guillotine ruler to measure anything accurately
Don’t pull too hard unless you want your cover to fight back
Some weekends are for errands. Some are for recovery.
This one feels like a weekend for making things.
I’ll be in the garden, watching baseball, and practicing bookbinding with simple materials.
Nothing glamorous—just the satisfying work of learning by doing.
I ordered cardstock that should arrive tomorrow, and I plan to try Coptic binding for the first time. With luck, I’ll end the weekend with a notebook worthy of gifting to a friend. Realistically, it may take a few attempts—but who’s counting?
I chose black cardstock along with a few shades of gray. Even if the work is simple, it suits my minimalist nature.
There is plenty of gardening to do as well, assuming the weather cooperates. Some starts may be ready for larger containers, which feels like a small victory after I had to replant several when my cat decided to have a snack.
Weeding is inevitable. So far, nothing I direct-sowed has germinated enough to distinguish itself confidently from the weeds.
Baseball is inevitable too.
If I can’t watch, I’ll listen while working outside. If I can watch, I can bind books at the same time. Either way, the game will be part of the weekend rhythm.
Cèilidh Nam Freumhan 