Gourmet Knitting Disaster

Disaster does gourmet (no knitting)

2010-02-08T16:28:00.003-04:00

It's been one of those weeks (months? years?) at work when I just can't seem to get out of my own way. Which makes getting things done difficult. No one else seems to want to get out of my way either, so that complicates things a bit more. While "because I said so" worked about 75% of the time for my mother, it really, really doesn't work at work.

To make me feel better, we went out to eat at a quiet little local bistro-ey, tavern-ey place. The building is brick, the wood floors creak comfortingly, the lighting is just right, and the staff are friendly. I had flank steak with chopped green olives, roast fingerling potatoes with blue cheese and shallots, and roasted tomato. I don't know what they put into the chopped olives, but I could have eaten a plate of just the olives, they were so good. As it was, they went wonderfully with the steak and the tomato. The potatoes? They're a starch, and starch and I have a lifetime relationship of dependency (entirely on my side). The food was great, the serving size was reasonable, the beer was good. A panacea, the atmosphere and my meal worked wonders. Thank you Monty's!

Packing our...

2010-01-08T18:07:00.013-04:00

stuff. I looked it up in a dictionary - and discovered that some definitions resonate more than others. We're buying a home at the end of the month, which means packing up eight years of apartment living. Very small apartment living. Which does not stop you from gathering stuff. And stuffing your stuff.
These definitions are so apt:

noun
-material of some unspecified kind
-worthless things or matter
-inward character, qualities, or capabilities (made of strong stuff)
-slang. any kind of drug, esp. an illicit one*

verb
-to fill (a receptacle), esp. by packing the contents closely together; cram full
-to fill (an aperture, cavity, etc.) by forcing something into it**
-to clutter or fill (the mind) with facts, details, etc***

*I never really thought of creative supplies, books and bundt pans as "illicit", but after contemplating our box to stuff ratio, I'm willing to admit that we may very well have a "stuff" problem in some areas. Especially books. Which I need to breathe. Apparently.

**Forcing matter into aperatures. Take everything you own and pretend it's a jigsaw puzzle. With multiple possible solutions. Attempting to solve it leads you to the conclusion that booze (as matter) also fits into your face (cavity). Which may or may not help with packing, but certainly helps with creativity.

***As far as a cluttered and filled mind - we're there. Without a doubt. Seldom in your day-to-day will you find your life and that of complete strangers mashed together into a legal goulash. But buying a house opens new vistas. Their financial issues suddenly become my financial issues, and we have to work it out together. I find I am suddenly much more organized than I want to be (this is strictly panic driven), and I believe I have used every scrap of good manners my parents ever tried to impart to me (they'd be so proud). Together, the Better Half and I have become some kind of lingo translating, paper work resolving machine. Which means our heads are full of the comedy of errors that is our current housing market and its components. We have become quite skilled at hurrying up to wait. And following up phone calls with clarifying emails or vice versa. And signing our names on some seriously grown up paperwork (while trying not to look at the total dollar amount and think about how long 30 years is).

It's a cute house. It's also warm and dry and light. And, for the first time in years, we will have room to host a lot of people we love in amongst our stuff. So taking the field against our own collected belongings (a little like arguing with yourself in the mirror), will definitely have some casualties, but will ultimately be well worth it.

Lies my siblings never believed

2009-12-17T17:46:00.002-04:00

"They call him the Boogey Man because if you pick your nose, he comes and gets you in your sleep. You'd better hope you snore - he hates that. It may be the only thing that saves you."

"You fell out of the sled. To you, it may have looked like I slid down the hill backwards and ran over you (my baby sister, who I was supposed to be watching for this very reason), but you're crying over your split lip. Which is clearly impairing not only your judgment, but your entire memory of the last 60 seconds. Of course, as the oldest, I know what really happened." (You can confuse a traumatized baby sister with this, but not her tattle tale brother, aka the middle child. He actually let me lie to my mother, and then ratted me out... leaving me just enough rope to hang myself on that one.)

"I'm going to tell Mom, and she's gonna be sooo mad... You know she hates it when you throw your underwear and it gets hung on the doorbell chimes. It'll probably get ugly. Nice knowing you." (Mom did not care where the underwear ended up - she had other things to worry about, and if you wanted to humiliate yourself, go to it!)

"You're not allowed in my room. I don't go in your room, do I?!" (Said the girl who knew where all the Christmas presents were hidden)

"Because I said so."

"Quit turning the lights off on me! Every time you do that Mom and Dad have to pay 7 cents! You already owe them almost a quarter!" (The two siblings learned their 7 times tables quickly that year)

"Naw, seriously, black jelly beans are the best ones. I'll give you mine, and take those yucky red ones off your hands." (Substitute "yucky red ones" for any of the good Halloween candy.)

"I would never cheat at a board game! You're four years younger than me, I'm not that insecure!" (My six year old brother beat me at Clue shortly after I said that. This particular story is a family treasure - at least to my parents.)

Aldena

2009-11-26T10:27:00.003-04:00

Aldena McCain Rayl
January 24, 1924
November 18, 2009

How much is too much?

2009-11-09T16:40:00.001-04:00

I'd really rather not, but for some reason, I've been thinking a lot about what it means that I write and post to this blog. It gets complicated by so many factors. Personal space, privacy, having a voice...

Since becoming a blogger, my digestion of other blogs has grown exponentially. I study the ones I enjoy, and I do sometimes revisit blogs I don't like, to study those too. I lurk, and read comments, and chew on someone's writing style... all the while fully realizing how absolutely subjective this interaction is. And then I ponder subjectivity.

Sounding-board style communication, validation, a chance to give your opinions and experiences a moment in the sun, blogs serve many purposes. After reading a particularly wince-worthy blog post some months ago, I began to wonder... When does my purpose, my need to have a voice become a privacy issue, maybe a personal ethics issue? Blogs are a fascinating adventure in principles and conscience, whether we're reading them or writing them.

For some reason, personal life issues presented lightly and salted with humor and sarcasm usually sit well with me. ("Really?" you say... "I would never have guessed that after reading this blog!") The moment squishy introspection and deeply personal emotion starts, I navigate away. Far away. Things like hostile family drama (who doesn't have that?),topics like unrequited love, and blatant cries for validation make me wary. Partially for personal reasons... but mostly because they're on the web. World wide internet. Googleable. If you post it, people will find it.

Oh sure, I pour my little heart out from time to time in a completely open, naive and selfish fashion. But I do it on paper. The internet not only gives us the ability to write about ourselves (or others), but to find out if other people are writing about us. And if they are? Well, I know how I feel about that.

With my own writing, I have this horror that someone will assume I was writing about them (either correctly or incorrectly). I think it's human nature (and my own personal tendency) to exaggerate from time to time for the sake of a good story, and I would want the earth to swallow me up if I ever wrote something that crossed that magic ethical line I've drawn for myself. My rule is, if it's someone's real life... tread carefully. I often remind myself that stories are by their very nature biased by the teller, and that there is always more to a story than a narrator is capable of representing. Even in the wildest work of fiction, you must choose angles to represent. In fiction, you're setting the scene as you'd like it - in real life, it can come across as judgmental and narrow.

This is my personal squeamishness, mind you. I'm picky about autobiography. There's a thin line for me between telling a personal story, and invading other people's privacy. An example - there is an author I just can not bring myself to read because her fiction smacks of badly disguised personal life. Additionally, her non-fiction spells out quite clearly her issues with the people in her life, and that rubs me the wrong way. Aren't I doing the same thing here? Perhaps. I can't quite tell you why it's different.

This has all been at the back of my mind since I started posting here. I stumbled across a blog recently that fanned the coals of these questions into flames, so I did some web research. It's a can of worms, for sure. In addition to the privacy issues I had in mind, the discussions about a Blogger's Code of Ethics adds journalistic values and advertising ethics to the mix.

These just skim the surface of a more academic discussion, but here are some interesting food-for-thought links on privacy issues:
Blog Survey: Expectations of Privacy and Accountability
This 2004 survey has some interesting stats on bloggers' disclosure about themselves and others.
Blogging Down Privacy Rights
A brief discussion of legal issues in regards to ethics and privacy in the blogosphere, and the "do unto others" school of thought.
A Tale of Two Bloggers
A great comparison of how two blogs with similar topics can impinge on people's privacy in very different ways.

The Bathroom?! Seriously?

2009-10-23T14:47:00.012-04:00

Things found in the bathroom of my office building that should not be there:

Drink containers. Left perched on the TP dispenser. Straw and all. Blech. Please tell me you don't come back to get these.

A toy poodle. Apparently the leash was looped over the hook inside the stall door - the dog was almost hung when the owner opened the door without removing the leash first. This owner talked with the dog while in the stall. Very unsettling. Even more unsettling was the lack of even a flicker of response from the poodle. Probably too morose about being tied up in the lav yet again.

Your cell phone conversation. I am the person next to you who flushes the toilet three times. I do it because I'm incredibly annoyed that you are so unable to function without your celly buddies that you must take them to the loo with you. I know that those flushes echo in that cavernous bathroom, and I do it just to make sure the person you're talking to knows exactly where you've taken them. I know YOU won't notice, but I always hope they will, and that they'll mind enough to hang up on you.

A list of "who is hot" on the stall door. Please, there are a million "James" and "Bills", with nary a last name listed. "Professor D" is not very revealing either. Way to live on the wild side with the bathroom graffiti. Protecting the innocent perhaps? I'm not sure how to feel about the person who wrote "Me", but I'll admit it made me laugh.

Paper problems. What difficulties could you possibly have with toilet paper that would cause you to strew a million shredded pieces of it all over the floor like some nesting hamster? Or pull a Hansel and Gretel and trail miles of it around the bathroom? Also, with the trash can right beside you... why is your sodden mass of paper towel balled up in the drain of the sink?

Halloween creeps on little crow feet...

2009-10-16T13:29:00.014-04:00

If your mind is turning to pumpkins and spooks these days, browse my better half's Halloween blog.

Homemade Halloween

For years we had very creative friends living nearby who enthusiastically decorated their yard and home each year. Together, we created quite a tradition and I love that Steve decided to pass it along. There's a nice collection of projects and ideas in his blog.

Our friends moved halfway across the country a few years ago... but guess where we're going for Halloween this year?!

Look What I Did!

2009-10-11T15:32:00.007-04:00

I dyed yarn! I decided to give hand-dyeing a try on my vacation last week and I'm so chuffed with the results that I had to share. Mark paid them a wonderful compliment by saying, "They look like yarn you would buy." It was not terribly difficult, and it was a lot of fun. I may have found a new fiber obsession!

Warming up - Granola

2009-10-11T14:39:00.000-04:00

The weather here the last few days has been miserably wet and cold. In fall, when daylight is already beginning to make itself scarce, storms turn a day to perpetual twilight. Don't picture nice twinkly evening light when I say "twilight", picture daylight like dirty, wet concrete - dank and grey. There's been just enough wind to drive the cold into your skin. Blech.

I'm fighting back. With granola. A hugenormous batch of granola. The oven makes my kitchen toasty, and it smells almost as good as pie when it's baking. I stumbled upon an online recipe with good proportions and altered it beyond all recognition to become one of my favorite breakfasts. Here it is:

Suit Yourself Granola

This granola is lovely with milk or greek yoghurt. During cold weather, I add a bit of water or applesauce and reheat it - homemade hot granola is worlds better than hot cereal packets!

5 cups rolled oats (I use a combo of rolled oats, barley/wheat/rye flakes, ground flax seed - whatever strikes my fancy from the bulk section)
4 Tbs. vegetable oil (I've used canola oil too, since it's supposed to be better for you)
3/4 cup honey (or a mix of your sweetners of choice - honey, agave and maple syrup all work wonderfully)
3-4 cups of dried fruits and nuts (pecans, almond slivers, sunflower seeds, cranberries, apricots, cherries) Chopped or unchopped is up to you - size does affect how the nuts roast.

Measure your oats and grains into a large bowl - stirring can be messy, so allow yourself some extra room in your bowl choice. I add the ground flaxseed later in the process, as it tends to sift to the bottom of the bowl when mixed with the other dry ingredients.

Heat the oil and sweetener in a saucepan over medium heat. Different sweeteners respond differently to heat - watch carefully so as not to burn the sugars. You want the sweetener to dissolve and mix with the oil. Add spices to this liquid mixture if you'd like. Pour warm liquid mixture over the dry grains, and stir in thoroughly. Once everything seems evenly coated, add the ground flax seed - it will stick to the other grains now.At this point, I like to let my granola sit and stew in its own juices a bit - from a few hours to overnight (well covered). But you can spring right into baking if you'd like. There's a slight difference in texture and flavor - each method tastes great, but I notice a difference.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Stir nuts into the unbaked granola. Spread granola onto cookie sheets (I use one or two cookie sheets at a time, depending on how efficient I feel like being), and bake in the oven for 10 minute intervals. I stir the granola at least every ten minutes, and find that it takes 20-30 minutes for each batch. Baking time can be very dependent on the grains and nuts I've used. I use quite a bit of flax seed, and that tends to toast up easily, so I watch the color of the baking granola carefully, and set my timer for smaller increments if need be. Watch the edges - they tend to brown more quickly.

Mix any dried fruits into your granola after it comes out of the oven - preferably while it's still warm. I once made the mistake of baking a batch with dried fruit in it - the dried apricots were too chewy, and I almost cracked a tooth on the cranberries!

This recipe has proved to be quite forgiving. It doubles and triples nicely, and I am able to play with a combination of sweeteners. This last batch was a mix of the last of my agave and some local honey. I've used agave alone (it has a low glycemic index), as well as with maple syrup. The finished granola stores well in an airtight container, for a few weeks. I eat a lot of it, so it's not around for long.

Scheming

2009-09-30T23:00:00.000-04:00

Thanks to the blogs I surf (yes, I've been reading, not writing), I've begun to plot my Holiday Kitchen Campaign. It always starts like this... I read about food, I see pictures of beautiful baked goods, I start talking out loud about all the delicious things I'm going to make to give to the people I love (maybe even the ones I only like). And then my Better Half gets nervous. He starts to fidget. He tries subtle words of warning, and if desperate enough, he tactfully paints a picture of an exhausted and cranky chef, a kitchen full of dishes, and a new cookie recipe that refuses to turn out as promised, despite curses and threats. He does this based on years of experience. He feels he has a right to do this, maybe even a duty because of his medals of distinction in the "Cleaning up After a Gourmet Disaster" arena. Which covers everything from dishes to scraping half baked pumpkin pie filling off of the floor. He has turned angry tears of frustration into something edible, and he doesn't even cook. That's an amazing skill. I should rent him out.

It doesn't stop at baking. I daydream about roasted fennel, a creamy polenta brulee, cranberry mousse, roast turkey stuffed with orange and red onion quarters... and a wild array of finger food. I want it all. Pretty desserts, a fantastic sit down meal, and a cocktail party. Am I forgetting that we don't own a table big enough for a sit down meal (never mind chairs)? Have I completely forgotten the last too-many-apps adventure? Yes. Yes, I absolutely have.

I'm a sucker for holidays. Especially if they're homemade. I love the phrase "groaning table", it smacks of a shared harvest. I want the tree and the fresh greens. I want to feed people, go caroling and wrap gifts. I fantasize like this every year. All this holiday centric activity, powered by me. The truth is... my backup generator, the power supply that keeps me going when I need it most? He's waaay more reasonable and sane about these things. Of course I fuss when he tries to tone me down a bit, I have to pretend for a few moments longer that it's all possible. Eventually I come around, and each year he has fewer disasters to manage. Or maybe I just tell myself that.

To be a complete cliche, what really matters is time with the people you like. I know this. And the people who really like you back aren't going to stop liking you because you don't have ten kinds of cookies each year or can't plan drinks to go with each course of the meal. People who like you back understand how much you love food... and they show up at your door with some in hand.

A Happy New Year

2008-12-29T15:39:00.003-04:00

Firefighter, Cat Herder, Magician

2008-10-14T13:06:00.010-04:00

Ever have one of those weeks at work when nothing you planned to do can be addressed because you are so busy putting out fires? When your efforts at being part of a sane approach are trampled by the feet of organizational chaos? When the rules seem to change at whim?

If I wrote a recruitment posting, and included a more accurate (and certainly more colorful) description of the job I do, it would look like this:

Looking for Other Duties as Assigned, in a Small and Driven unit within an Traditional Heirarchy that finds itself transitioning to Corporitization?

Spend, play with, reorganize, spit polish and lament over miniscule resources. Alternately appreciate or get bushwacked by new business practices while managing this little pantry of goodies and those it feeds. Snake charming, firefighting, mind reading, and scrapbooking skills a plus.

Extra Special Other Duties may include (but are not limited to): musical chairs/desks/you name it, preventing a kitchen fire by emptying almost a loaf's worth of bread crumbs from the office toaster, General of the supply closet - sometimes commanding recon missions to local hallways for freebies, knowing the answer to the question "How do We say what We say?" and other pithy inquiries, corralling innumerable moving parts to get one small thing accomplished. Rodeo experience, cat herding, thermodynamics and gourmet cooking skills desired, unlimited patience and naive impression that it can't get worse required.

Join us in a diverse environment of unique and quirky people with individualized working styles. Free yourself from organization and method, savoring your role as a purely reactionary member of the workforce, and become one with the Now, or as we like to call it, the "What Now".

lunch on the porch

2008-09-24T13:59:00.003-04:00

Reading: The Wild Places by Robert MacFarlane. Beautifully written.
Eating: Butternut Squash Gnocchi
In the glass: Orange/carrot juice to chase away this cold

* sniffle * hack *

2008-09-22T16:50:00.005-04:00

Why are all my comfort foods the same color? Seriously, I ask myself this every time I get sick. I end up craving custard, or rice pudding, teas heavy with milk and honey, toast with butter, soups rich with chicken fat and lemon juice, heated apple juice with honey and a shot of citrus... Is anyone else like this? Why don't I get a hankering for red? Or spicy foods? Why does beige food make me (a person who loves color) feel warm and cosseted?

I've been battling this cold for days, and telling myself that it's just allergies, but it's making itself known in full force today. Maybe you're familiar with that weird euphoria you get when you have a lot to do at work and there are pestilent forces frolicking in your system. Today was not the day to make major decisions, or to use the office shredder. I hope I didn't do either...

I am looking forward to the corn chowder I'll pull out of the freezer tonight. I used homemade chicken stock, so it's rich and fatty. I'll add a bit of cream and some lemon to the broth once it's heated, and I have some leftover rolls to warm in the oven. I'll try to home cook my way to health. It will be a beige meal, but if that's what my germ addled brain decides I want, I'm not going to argue with it!

Photo credit M'soft Clipart

Wanted: Fairy Godmother

2008-09-04T17:18:00.005-04:00

Wouldn't it be nice to come home and find that your dirty laundry and dishes, your scuffed and dirty floor, and your stray detritus had magically cleaned themselves and returned to their places? I know it doesn't happen, but honestly, I would be a changed woman if it did.

We've had a long two weeks (well, a year really) of goodbyes. Several friends have moved away. Far away. Spend-a-lot-of-money-to-see-them away. London, Texas, Oregon. Email doesn't quite cut it, and we are not fans of the phone. I realized this week that we've been having send off parties and last-time-to-____ gatherings for a year now.

The most recent rash of festivities was for Ethan, who moved to Portland, Oregon after ten years of being my neighbor and twenty years of being practically another sibling. We are incredibly excited for him - it's a great community to move to and will fuel his artistic life. We're excited for us too - what a cool place to visit. We're also trying to figure out what to do with ourselves now that there are so many spaces that fun people used to occupy... Which means, in all honesty, that we're sitting in our apartment wondering why the dirty leavings of our daily life won't just up and wash themselves, the brats. And we're staring at each other with the glazed look couples use when they're too tired to invest in conversation beyond the words "what?" "nope" and "uh-huh".

Pitiful huh? We have other friends, and they are pretty cool. But they're an hour or more away, and it takes some planning because somehow, when we weren't looking, we all went and became adults with lives. It really gets in the way. I'm still trying to figure out how to make playing the point of my adult life without coming across as some nut with responsibility and commitment issues. If I were say, a river otter, none of this would be a problem. But that's as likely as my dishes and clothes pulling a Disney moment and becoming pleasantly animated and dutiful.

Cookbook find

2008-07-20T13:00:00.003-04:00

At a used bookstore I promise I'll take Heather to next time she's here, I found a real treasure. The American Woman's Cook Book with a green frosted vinyl style cover, published in 1940. Eight hundred and fifteen pages of advice and recipes, with labeled thumb indents for each section.

As much as I'd love to, I won't quote from it extensively because you can download it yourself, kitschy pictures and all.

On the sticks: we won't even talk about it, since these sticks haven't clicked in some time.

In the glass: water as an antidote for the Brewer's Fest we were at yesterday. There is a chocolate vanilla beer from Montreal that I am going to hunt down next time we're there. Thick, rich, cold heaven in a glass.

Under the needle: Using up ribbon and scrap fabric for lanyards for our various sets of keys. I feel like I'm at summer camp, but they stitch up quickly and the colors are loud enough it should take real effort to misplace them. Or so I hope.

Pie update: Successfully made my mother's apple sheet pie for a big 4th of July celebration. A little bit of crushed cereal sprinkled on the bottom crust soaks up the juice nicely, and the pieces can be picked up in your hand for easy eating. Pie Fest 2008 planning is in the works! A friend I've known for more than half my life, is moving to Portland, OR at the end of the summer. We'll be having a pieluck dinner in his honor.

Baking therapy

2008-07-07T17:15:00.000-04:00

On an average day, I find myself juggling (despite my childless, apartmented existence) a handful of issues that blur the lines between work and not-work. I can't tell anymore what's my baggage, and what's someone else's baggage dumped in my lap. Whether it's family, friends or coworkers, it aaalll adds up. Good jugglers make it seem like their hands just graze objects that are inherently airborne. I am not always a good juggler, sometimes treating issues like they were mosquitos, cream pies, or rotten tomatoes.

Generally, there's some kind of crash, and serious readjustment has to be scheduled. In this rural state where town is two streets, and the weather isn't always conducive to going out to play, I resort to complex kitchen behavior. It wears me out, but if I want to banish annoyances from my mind, AND there's good food when I'm done, it's just fine.

Bless a fresh hot roll from the oven with a pat of butter tucked into it. Bless my grandmother for her bread machine that makes that (and two dozen other rolls) possible with only 10 minutes of actual work on my part. No one cares whether your dough was kneaded by hand or by machine when you pull rolls out of their oven from being rewarmed. They decide to invite you over again very soon, they roll their eyes heavenward, they remember their own grandmothers.

Thanks be for the solid thump of a maple rolling pin as it lands. Picked up at an antique shop for a song by my mother, and oiled and babied by my father before it came to me at Christmas. It's sturdy and can cowboy up to wrangle pie dough like nobody's business. It sets a good example that I try to live up to...

Digital schmigital. I prefer my chicken timer and its little anticipatory ticks, like soft chicken clucks. Its ring sounds very much like the old rotary telephone at my folk's house when I was a kid. I have a digital timer, but it's more bossy than helpful, and gets used during lunch break to let me know when it's time to put my book down and walk back up the hill to work. My chicken sits on my stove top and does her thing in a most comforting manner.

Chicken pot pie... roasted chicken and vegetables, creamy gravy and a sour cream pie crust baked in my big cast iron skillet. The recipe from Cook's Illustrated is the best I've ever tried. When I am feeling pretty darn sorry for myself, this pot pie makes it all okay - both the labor and the eating of it.

I don't know how Steve feels about the general frenzy of flour and potholders in our teeny kitchen. I know he eats the outcomes quite happily. He is kind enough to go back to the store when I do something smart like pour half baked pumpkin pie all over the kitchen floor, and he often cuts butter into flour for pie crust or biscuits. His skills at "disposing of" baked goods that are cosmetically challenged are unparalleled. There is nothing quite like the impromptu (and sympathetic) sous chef.

First Week and a Little Fiber

2008-06-22T07:53:00.011-04:00

I made it through my first week of training for the new job. I'd forgotten that learning new things can be so exhausting! After the first two days I was barely able to put coherent sentences together by the end of the day. Part of it is that my entire routine has been tossed out the window and I'm at the mercy of someone else's time schedule. I do like the woman who I will be working for directly, which certainly helps. If someone had told me first that she had a few little OCD issues, I might have been better prepared. Things like not using her pen or touching her things for example. However! Walking to work is still making up for a lot of things, so I will not dwell on that!

By the end of the week I was able to do quite a bit of what I will need to do every day without too much assistance, and I think that as things come along, I will be able to figure stuff out. I will still have at least next week for training, and possibly part of the following week. Of course I'm going on vacation the week after the Fourth of July and I'm hoping that I don't forget all my new responsibilities over that week!

As a reward for being such a good girl during my first week, I got to have a little fiber therapy yesterday. M wanted to go to some Army Supply type store down in Salem (no, really, don't ask), so I was able to go to the Yarn and Fiber Co. in Windham. After touching just about everything they had, I came home with a skein of Cherry Tree Hill Silk & Merino DK that I have been patting ever since.

I also came home with a skein of sock yarn (I know, aren't you surprised?) that I had never seen before. It's by Ivy Brambles and it's so blue I can't stand it. Gorgeous and soft and squishy.

And just in case you were wondering if I ever actually knit with all this yarn, I also have a finished object to show! This is what became of the Malabrigo Silky Wool that I got with Kate -

With all my walking to work this winter, I'm thinking I'm going to need plenty of scarves, mittens and hats. I loved working with this yarn. I may have to look for some more to make a few more things.

I was sent home, but it was just hype

2008-06-10T16:13:00.006-04:00

We were sent home today, with a tornado threat looming. I walk to work, and was not relishing an unwilling Mary Poppins routine (we heard that the winds might be 60-80 miles an hour). It's not my typical style to flee at the first hint of weather, but I was the first one out the door, hustling home in rain and thunder. I made it to the apartment just as the rain really started to dump, and packed up anything that might blow around on our porch. Called my better half to let him know where I was, and then sat down to watch the onset of a big whopper storm. Just in time for the sun to peek out. Honestly.

I'm not so excited about tornadoes, but I do like a good crack-boom thunderstorm. It's been so oppressively hot here, I was ready for that nastiness to go out with a bang. Nothin' doin'. I'm disappointed actually, and now rather out of sorts... I don't know what it means that that inspired me to blog, but here I am.

New pies tried: White Russian Pie (w/ bourbon and coffee brandy), White Chocolate Pie with raspberry sauce, Peaches and Cream Pie. Also a Derby Pie made by someone else, that was like liquid chocolate chip cookie - all sugar, very good.

Books I have open: Shogun (again), The New Good Cake Book, Green Housekeeping

Projects on the sticks: a felted carrot and that darn mohair wrap I just can't seem to finish

How I'm trying not to freak out about the economy: Growing a few of our own herbs and veg, making our own laundry detergent (from the Simple Dollar blog, great stuff!), stocking up on the basics when I can afford them (flour, rice), trying not to lose sight of the forest for all the green marketed trees

After-work beverage of choice: Otter Creek's Otter San - Japanese style beer brewed with sake yeast

The Comfort of Common Sense

2008-05-28T15:57:00.004-04:00

I may have to revert back to my old practice of not reading the news. The headlines add up and overwhelm me these days, and while I remind myself that the media sensationalizes, the basic facts of poverty, disaster and political foolishness remain. Obsessive red tape and policy shroud our lives to such a degree that we stop functioning like human(itarian) beings. I see this increasingly at my workplace, as well as in the operations of government, where humans in crisis take place below political posturing and ego.

I had an instance today that sent me home for lunch in tears of frustration. How could something so simple be made to be so complicated? There are days when I can feel a chain of frustration, weariness and anger being forged one link at a time. Each link is a discomfited employee, and today felt heavy with the weight of all of them. Call it an administration out of touch with employees, an organization struggling to modernize practices... as much as the employees would like to sort things out in a reasonable way, we end up being a terrible burden to each other as we manage the daily confusion and fallout from administrative decisions. Days like this make a lunch break a time of readjustment.

I go home for lunch when I can, and I always have a book waiting for me, if not a sunny stoop and some good leftovers. Today I continued the Essays of E.B. White. White is the author of Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, The Trumpeter Swan, not to mention the revisionist of The Elements of Style (Strunk & White), and a superb essayist. The book of essays I'm reading range from the 50's to the 70's. While I may take a hiatus from the news, I'm certainly don't want to bury my head in the sand. I'd rather spend my time reading the well voiced, reasonable and quiet outrage of White as he writes about exactly the issues we struggle with fifty years later. Polluted soil and polluted food, the death of passenger trains, disarmament, the ways of politicians... White comforts me with common sense, even as he writes about his prescient frustrations with the world. His reflections are sometimes laments, sometimes acceptance, often nostalgic, always wry - a combination that soothes my wounded spirit, makes me feel a sense of companionship in this world. I find myself thinking of his gift with words throughout the day, and it braces me. Like a good friend who sympathizes without sacrificing honesty, he does not patronize, is not over familiar, and shares enough of himself to establish trust and empathy.

Charlotte's Web was always my favorite book as a child, and I am thrilled to have rediscovered this author that so engaged me so many years ago. Once this book of essays is read, I have two more like it on my shelf... and I certainly won't hesitate to add his children's books to my reading list to further my free therapy. His contexts are just as captivating as his subjects, fictional or otherwise. You read it in his sketches of New York City, and the animal doings on his farm in Maine. As much as White wonders about the state of things, he is also full of wonderment.

Is That A Light I See?

2008-05-01T13:43:00.012-04:00

Back at the beginning of February I gave my notice here at the bank. I was surprised to learn that management did not in fact want me to leave, and I was told that something else would be available for me. I left that meeting feeling pretty damned good about things.

Fast forward about a month and a half. I had applied for the position that everyone thought I should get, as the Operations Department Assistant Manager. In the end, I didn't get it. The person who did get it is far more qualified in the operations world, even if she doesn't have the management experience that I do. To be totally honest, this didn't break my heart. If I never "manage" anyone other than myself and Mark again, I'll be perfectly happy.

So, my next step was to apply for the position that was left vacant by the person who got the management job (Is this too confusing? Am I babbling like a crazy person yet?). Her position was very similar to what I did at the last bank I worked for, dealing primarily with overdrafts and the ATM/debit card world. I have not wanted a job quite possibly ever as much as I wanted this one.

The interview went pretty well in my opinion, even though I am notoriously hard on myself about things like that. There wasn't anything she could throw at me that I hadn't already had experience with. I convinced myself that obviously there was no one better suited to or qualified for this job.

I started to feel a little less hopeful after finding out that there were seven other internal candidates for this position. Surely one of them would have seniority, or would deserve it more, or would be sleeping with someone's brother. Surely one of them will get it and not me.

After waiting in agony for another week I got a phone call today. Guess what? I'M THE NEW OVERDRAFT AND ATM/DEBIT CARD PROGRAM COORDINATOR!!!!!!! SQUEEEEEE!!!!!!! WOO-HOO!!!!! (Wild dancing around the room ensues.)!!!! Break out the crazy hats and noise makers (and maybe a little wine) because I'm absolutely crazy out of my mind thrilled about this!

This means that I can finally get out of face-to-face customer service. This means that I never have to sit trapped in my office while someone who smells like the fishing docks on Rye Harbor rambles on for an hour about where their father used to bank back in the days before computers. This means that I never have to have a crazy bicycle-helmet wearing person try to use a photocopy of him with Bill Richardson as a valid "photo" ID (hey, if a possible future president knows who he is, who am I to question him?).

You wanna know what else this means? It means I get to move to another office. And you wanna know what that means? It means that I get to walk to work.High gas prices be damned! I will be walking to work.

Work rhymes with jerk

2008-04-25T16:28:00.003-04:00

I have that stressed out at myself feeling. Not mad at myself, stressed out at myself. There's something I should have done lurking around every corner, and all I can do is expect it. It's that time of year in academia when students cry, faculty fizzle, and paperwork and chaos reign supreme. For staff it's like watching a roller coaster ride knowing there's a barfer in the front seat.

Some of this is a result of too many things to do in my particular role. Some of it is that it's "normal" to feel that way this time of year as the curtains of academic and fiscal year crash closed (shoot whoever came up with that schedule please). Quite often my "something I should have done" is really someone else's last minute remembrance of something that needs to get done. Pronto. And those kinds of things generally fall within my job of "other duties as assigned". I should have business cards with that as my title... not a good investment since I've discovered that the best use for business cards is making lists on the backs. Nice, small, manageable, pocketable lists.

Anyway, I feel jangly and incompetent. No matter how much I catch up, there's a new confusion waiting to pounce... and it makes me feel like I'm not doing my job. I'm paranoid that it makes me look to others like I'm not doing my job. And then I get stressed out at myself... which leads to a growly stressed out stomach... which you probably shouldn't feed ice cream to, even though you are really craving something creamy, sugary and comforting.

Bugger.

I Have to Stop Swapping Like This

2008-04-24T19:27:00.007-04:00

I am participating in another yarn and goodie swap on Ravelry, a May Flowers Swap to celebrate the end of another long winter. Here's a picture of my spoils from my swapper, thedish! Thanks!

All Done

2008-04-22T09:24:00.013-04:00

The Bruins season is over. I haven't said much to anyone about it since I sort of needed a few days to think about it. I know I must sound completely ridiculous to some people. I'm sure some of you don't care even a little bit. It's just sports, right? But I do care. I've cared for over thirty years now, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.

I'm going to do my very best to avoid the inevitable landslide of news that will accompany this loss. I don't want to hear the excuses or the attacks. I will not wander down the road of "what if." What if Bergeron hadn't gotten hurt? What if we had seen Manny Fernandez this year? What if Phil Kessel didn't end up on the bench for three games? What if Glen Murray could have played all of game seven? What if the officiating went our way? None of that matters. It didn't matter a few months ago and it doesn't matter now.

I'm going to go outside of all of this and give my Bruins some love. I'm not going to say that I'm not really disappointed. I am. I couldn't watch most of that game. I knew the odds were still kind of against them, but I wanted to believe that it might be different this year.

They gave us a better season than anyone expected and now that I've had a bit of time to be realistic about things, I'm very pleased about that. I have a truly positive feeling about this team now and I hope that it continues. I'm almost on the verge of saying that maybe Bruins management finally have a clue and may actually have the wherewithal to give us a team worthy of their ardent fans. I enjoyed watching this season. Almost. Ask me again next season.

At least now I can console myself with the evidence that even in victory, Montreal fans are classless idiots. I'd be ashamed to be a fan of the Habs right now. Shop windows were smashed, five businesses were ransacked, people rioted in the streets and three of the dozen police cars destroyed were set on fire. Can you imagine what it would have been like if they had lost?

What Was That?

2008-04-18T09:19:00.007-04:00

Seriously. The Bruins won last night. We're actually going to a game six. Against Montreal.

I have to admit that after Montreal scored the first goal, I wandered away, heartsick and a little disgusted. I said after the Bruins won their first game of the series that I was just happy that they didn't get swept. I lied. I want them to win this series. I want them to make the Habs cry like little babies. (Generally I'm a complete softie about things, but hockey apparently brings out my hostile side.) I came back a little while later and was pleased to see the score tied at one. I was speechless for the next four goals. Should Kessel have been benched for the last few games? They don't pay me to make those decisions, so I'll just say I'm glad he responded the way he did.

I had pretty much resigned myself to letting go of this series and saying "maybe next year." I can't decide if I'm happy that they won or if they're just tormenting me by prolonging the agony. As a Bruins fan, I am used to the disappointments. It has become (in my mind) similar to the Red Sox not winning the World Series for 86 years. I know that some thirty-odd years since winning the Cup is not 86 years, but it's been most of my lifetime and it's getting old. I would love to see the Bruins win and stop being the forgotten team in this area. A little respect is all I want.

And speaking of respect, Harry Sinden - WTF? Once again you have shamed the Bruins and their fans with your stupid, pointless remarks. You should have let go of this team years ago. You are the direct cause of many of the problems the team has faced in the past few decades. There is a management team in place, finally, that seems to 1.) Know what the hell they're doing, and 2.) Actually care about what happens. Time for your big ego to go retire to Florida. Maybe you can hook up with Phil Esposito and reminisce about your glory years. Bye now.

In any event, I am looking forward to Saturday nights game with my usual mix of anticipation and nausea. I'm a little scared to hope out loud for a positive outcome, but oh, how I want it.

If Not Now, When?

2008-04-13T18:48:00.003-04:00

Never, that's when.

If I don't start writing blog posts right now it will just keep getting harder and harder to come back.

So many factors have conspired to prevent me from blogging. There are many times during the week that I will think of something or see something and compose a little post in my head. That's as far as it usually gets. By the time I get home, I'm usually exhausted and don't feel like writing. I did all the work to think of it, why don't you just read my mind? Thanks, that would be much easier.

Another thing that often keeps me from posting is my fear of not meeting expectations. I start to feel sort of hemmed in by the parameters of this blog, feeling like I need to talk about knitting, or cooking, or some sort of catastrophe. Thinking that most of the things that I feel like writing about don't really fall into any of those categories. Feeling like what I write should be funny or sarcastic or at least some sort of wry observation. To be honest, there hasn't been a whole lot of funny in my life for the past six months or so. My sense of humor has let me down quite a bit lately, and I'm not used to that. I feel that by posting an entry that is not about any of the expected things or if just isn't funny, I'm letting someone down.

It occurred to me this weekend that this is in fact my blog. My place to write whatever the hell I want. And I want to write stuff. It isn't going to be pretty, and it probably isn't going to be funny. It might be about knitting, it might be about the Stanley Cup playoffs, it might be about the Red Sox, it might be about a book I just read, it might be about the tricycle riding demon that lives downstairs or the ass who cut me off on the way to work. I don't know. I don't care anymore. I just felt like saying hi, and maybe I'll keep stopping by.

dammit dammit dammit

2008-04-11T17:22:00.003-04:00

Ever put together a nice long spreadsheet of numbers in Excel that you've pulled from other worksheets, moved things around, totalled different columns for different purposes... inserted the totals from that sheet into a larger calculation... only to find (by freak chance) that an equation was wrong?

Number of curse words = COUNT of people you've already shown your incorrect figures to
Degree of stupidity = SUM of total screwed up subtotals
Reminding myself I'm only human = also being thankful that today is Friday and my boss and coworker have the weekend to try to forget what a twit I am

Erg. Time for a Friday-style beverage.

Red Sox Swap

2008-04-02T16:34:00.003-04:00

I decided to participate in a swap over on Ravelry in my Red Sox Knitters group, and I just got my package today! Sheila sent me some great stuff, and since I'm having trouble getting my pictures up over there, I'm posting them here too!

Holiday baking stress

2008-03-27T15:52:00.007-04:00

When I talked to my mother last week, something possessed me to volunteer to make everything but the ham for Easter dinner. We're not really a get-dressed-to-go-to-church bunch, and Dad's a chocoholic, so the holiday is pretty much about food and springtime in our family. So... spring eats would be things like asparagus, mom's lemon meringue pie and sweet, fluffy rolls like my grandmother always makes. And bacon. My aunt swears that there is very little that can't be improved by the addition of bacon.

Please note that I named other people in relation to some of the food choices. That's because these are items I have never made. I've never had to, mom and/or her mother always has. My mother is gluten-free, so that makes baking interesting at times. It generally means two pies (one with gluten free crust, which has it's own special challenges). I was confident I could juggle all of this noooo problem. Which isn't untrue... I can generally pull off family catering, but the no problem part should never be an assumption. I do it to myself every time, despite the "Abort Mission" faces my Better Half makes when he hears me rattle off menu selections and available time frame. "Don't worry" I say "it will be fine". It usually is... often with his help.

I had pie dough in the fridge leftover from a pie fit a few days earlier, and figured I could just use it for my lemon meringue. This is the point where I found out that pie dough really needs to be used the next day (not the day after the next day), and that I was completely unprepared for the rigors of pre-baking the shell. Don't laugh, it stressed me out! When I saw my first attempt, I shuddered... butter should never be applied towards something so nasty. Frankencrust met trash can in a matter of seconds. I bought a "pie chain" recently, for exactly this kind of thing, to keep the bottom crust from bubbling up. Wasted my money... not big enough, not heavy enough, and the sides slid down like a pair of queen sized pantyhose on a toddler. I now know that a pie plate full of good ol' dried beans would have been fine. Steve helped me mix up fresh dough, and I used that lame pie chain and another pie plate to force the crust to keep its shape, and it worked. Lemon filling from scratch... no problem. Meringue? Completely intimidating. I broiled it just before we left the house, and to my great relief, it was lovely. A nice high mound of fluffy sugar. We packed it carefully, and it was transported without event. Only to find out, when we pulled it out for dessert that meringue shrinks. A lot. I even piled it right to the crust, hoping to anchor it a bit. My mother tried to console me by admitting that she always has that problem no matter what she does. But the image of beautiful meringue skating around the lemon filling committed me to some research on this subject (anyone have any tricks?).

Rolls. One of those things that seem easy to make until you actually think about how much time it takes to let things rise. I didn't realize what a family tradition dinner rolls were for me until I found myself stressing out about whether or not these would be able to meet the expectation of our collective tastebuds, conditioned after years to Gram's parker house rolls. Thanks go to my other grandmother for the gift of her bread machine! On the dough setting it kneaded the rolls for me, and the recipe I used gave me very simple shaping instructions. A relief to my ugly-crust traumatized brain. They turned out quite well actually. Not the same of course, but I will definitely make them again.

Very rarely am I worried about trying new recipes. I usually dive right in, and grumble about the results later. But this time, it felt like I had the ghosts of the bakers in my life peeking over my shoulder. Worse, they were joined by the ghosts of those accustomed to eating their baking! I'm pretty conscious about family tradition, particularly when it comes to food, so I was a little surprised to discover this anxiety in myself. It really was fine, and the bacon in the scalloped potatoes was heavenly... and I just may have finally learned not to be such a smarty pants about my baking.

Weird Pie the First

2008-03-03T17:06:00.004-04:00

It could have been a disaster to blog about, but it wasn't. I made an Avocado Pie last week. Think key lime but creamier. Crumb crust (store bought, not Heather's homemade yummy crumb crust), sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, egg yolks, lime juice and a mashed avocado. The recipe called for lemon juice, but never one to follow any instructions to a T... I'll try the lemon next time, as the lime dominated the pie and I'm not sure that was the intent. Once out of the oven, I poured on the sweetened sour cream topping and chilled it. It was pretty good! There was a bit of greeny avocado flavor and the creaminess of the fruit held through baking. The sour cream top was a nice contrast. It was a pretty pie, the avocado baked to a nice light green color - the same green people seem to want key lime to be, and I sprinkled lime zest on the white top.

The recipe came from a book called Blue Ribbon Pies, which takes recipes from state, county and local fairs. Most recipes are quite simple, with few ingredients. I may have to try the Southern Buttermilk Lemon Pie, or the Zucchini Pie next. The latter promises to taste like apple crisp!

Dairy and fiber is good for you

2008-02-28T18:03:00.005-04:00

Work and weather have been challenging and draining lately. It's February in Vermont after all, so of course this is unavoidable. Flower shows bloom all through New England this time of year, and resorts sell weekend getaways to desperate yankees by using words like "hot tub" and "relax". Anything that seems the antithesis of slush or rock salt or snow shovels becomes what we all crave.

The sky was a gorgeous blue today, and waking up to sunshine was a nice change. Before I got too hopeful, the flaky d.j. on the radio warned me of subzero windchill temps. Instead of throwing an all out "I want spring now" temper tantrum, I sighed and packed my bag for a day without a walk home for lunch.

What does one bring to work with them to create a fake lunchtime getaway (when one is used to a five minute walk and then the peace and quiet of her favorite chair, a book, and good leftovers)? The recent Saveur magazine, chock full of butter, and the mohair shawl I'm working on. I have always been a firm believer in butter from my first plate of starch. I was further convinced of it's charms when I called my mother after a failed pie crust attempt (my first) - she immediately guessed that I'd tried to substitute margarine. "Throw it away" she said "start again, use butter". I did, and I've not batted an eye at not-butter for baking ever since. I'm the daughter of a woman raised on a dairy farm, it can't be helped. The mohair was from my mother too, and it was high time I got it on and off some needles. While I'd be trapped in my office, I did look forward to the good company of creamy reading and floaty fiber in my fingers.

It was a horribly drudgish morning, so I took an early lunch. At the appointed hour, I moved my chair into the sunny patch in my office, put my back to the door and my feet on the desk. I slurped down butternut squash soup while reading about the de-vilification of butter and it's return to the table (hallelujah!), and sat with a pile of whispery and warm mohair in my lap. Something about the soft click of needles blocks out the sounds of jammed copiers and coworkers talking at each other. It was lovely. At home tonight, I remember my lunch hour more than the rest of my blurred day, which is more than I'd hoped for.

Sweeping out cobwebs

2008-02-25T17:41:00.007-04:00

For some reason, there was a conversation at Steve's office about just how much yarn I had. When details were divulged, his boss said it sounded like it was time for me to knit or get off the pot. After a month of moving all of our furniture around, and doing some I-wish-it-was-spring cleaning, I'd just come to that conclusion myself, albeit not quite so... succinctly.

We've switched workspaces, the artist and I. His drafting table faces the windows in the office now, and I'm curled into the corner by the heating vent. The sewing machine is the short side of the L that is my space, and we can both get to it (he learned to sew last week so he could make puppets). This works out better than we'd anticipated actually, and in a celebration of organization and inspiration, I'm trying to be good to my workspace and not overtax it with a bunch of half-baked projects.

I've assembled what I call the "basket of shame". It sits by my desk, full of things I either have to frog or finish. They stare up at me, little orphaned projects... the guilt alone is some serious incentive.

I'm almost done cutting all of our old denim into quilt blocks, and I've salvaged some of the zippers to sew into felted or fabric bags. Just two pairs of jeans left. The denim will be paired with my favorite bright fat quarters in a simple quilt. My grandmother is a quilter, and while this will not even touch her finished pieces, it should be attractive and will make me proud of my use up/make do abilities.

I have a pile of mending sitting by my machine, so I can do an odd bit or two when I have a free moment. Buttons will once again be reunited with plackets, and Steve may get some of his clothing back once it's patched. Pants will be hemmed, shoulder pads will be torn out. And then I'm going to train myself not to look at something and think "it'll be fine if I just...". And hopefully the mending basket will stay empty... ish.

The stack of magazines I was saving, for who remembers what, is gone. Inspiration clipped out, and the chaff recycled. There's a clipboard on my desk with the tidbits I culled, and I flip through that every once in a while, changing the one on top to fit my mindset (a gorgeous cork tiled floor, a gingham quilt, a color combo of orange and aqua).

Maybe it's the full moon, maybe it's the new space for my brain and eyes and hands to play in... but my sleep the last few days has been full of colors and images and project ideas. It is rare that I remember that kind of thing when I wake up, I'm usually more focused on the people and emotions in my dreams. These pictures lasted well beyond that first waking moment, and so I sat with a glass of wine at my desk last night to sketch them out with coloured pencils. I poked through my stacks of fabric, yarn, and ribbon and found matches, and then bundled up my sketch with the appropriate bits and put them in plastic bags. I now have a small pile of projects, stored so I can see their colors, and can pick one up when I feel like working on something. My notes and all the little bits of detritus I think would help are in there. It's a bit scary actually. Like I have some kind of momentum... that I should respect... and do something with.

Unwilling to fully engage in an analysis of my own behavior (I'm never productive AND organized unless I'm baking), I picked up the mohair wrap from the shame basket (if your mother buys you local handspun mohair, you darn well better do something with it), and started to work on it. The voice in the back of my mind was very quiet, and only said it once, but it was clear as a bell... "knit or get off the pot"!

Frankenchick pics

2008-02-19T17:41:00.007-04:00

I promised pictures of the gift I knit and felted (and cut and sewed and cussed at) for Christmas. Not only did I complete the project without taking any photos, but I packed her up, whisked her across international borders, and left her in London without proof of ever having worked on her at all (if you don't count the felted scraps under my desk). The recipient was kind enough to send pictures.

I decided that my chicken loving friend in London needed an obsession appropriate tea cozy. I knit a miniature version. I even knit a swatch for this one... but it didn't do me any good. I cast waaay too many stitches onto round needles, and it wasn't until halfway through cast off that that became painfully clear. Sometimes it seems that cussing actually fuels my creativity, and this seemed to be the case. I figured out a work-around involving scissors, my sewing machine, a dose of my better half's perspective, and went to work.

And truly, she is a frankenchicken. Knit and felted, cut into pieces, and sewn back together again. The handle protrudes from under her tail feathers, and her comb hides the steam spout. Her bottom is ribbed so that it curls round the base of the pot a bit.

I'm happy to say she was a hit, and our friends even tromped her through London for a day. If you want to see the London sights with a felted chicken, you can check it out on YouTube.

Jumping Off the Cliff

2008-02-08T22:53:00.000-04:00

I did something yesterday that I have spent a long time thinking about. I think anyone who knows me and anyone who has been reading this blog for a while knows how much my job has been troubling me. I'm not going to go over the gory details again, since there are a good many things that I can't talk about publicly. Being in banking brings with it many policies and regulations, including very strict ones about confidentiality.

The expectations of this job have been extremely hard for me to fulfill. Organizing this particular staff has been like trying to wrangle cats, or discipline teenagers. I haven't been enjoying that. The multiple meetings and business calls and business functions are wearing me out. I'm not particularly extroverted. I am very talkative and open with my friends and family, but that's completely different. The audits and warnings and probations have been terrifying and exhausting. I haven't been sleeping. I haven't been keeping in touch with friends and family who deserve far better than that (hi, guys, sorry 'bout that). I can't have a day off without anxiety and a sense of foreboding and horror about having to go back.

I finally decided that being unemployed was a better alternative to destroying myself for a job I obviously didn't like. I'm not a quitter and I hate to lose, but I've given this position a chance for four months. I couldn't do it any longer.

Yesterday afternoon I called and asked if I could meet with my boss and her boss. The three of us sat down, and discussed it. I told them I didn't think I was the person for the job. I told them I wasn't going to change who I was to fit the ideal of what they wanted. I told them that I appreciated the chance they gave me to try, but that I had made a mistake. I told them that I had been with the bank for over three years and I didn't want to leave, but I saw no point in continuing down this path. I reminded them of all that I have to offer and how well I had done everything asked of me and more during those previous three years. I was surprisingly calm and I think I made all my points effectively. While I was telling them all of this, a sense of calm came over me that I have not felt in quite a long time. They asked me a lot of questions, which I expected. It went far better than I had imagined.

I'm not sure exactly when during the conference I realized it, but this did not end up the way I thought it would. I figured out that not only were they being quite understanding, but they had apparently been expecting me to say this to them eventually and had already thought about it. What they had been thinking about was not how soon they could get rid of me, but where else they could put me. They want me to stay. They don't want me in a position that I'm this unhappy with. I'm stunned. And pleased. And very, very relieved. I think I might actually be able to relax this weekend.

Stuff I came home with

2008-01-31T14:45:00.000-04:00

Although we did spend time poking around shops, and we did come home from London with our extra bags full, we didn't spend an incredible amount of money on souvenirs. With the conversion rate at about .51 US dollars to 1.00 British pounds, we were "selective".

At Covent Garden Market, we stopped at Pollock's Toy Shop and Museum. It was packed from ceiling to floor with all kinds of lovely paper toys and Punch 'n Judy sets. We purchased a few pocket sized things. The deck of cards pictured at right are 1"x2" each and can be combined in endless permutations. On each card (which connects neatly at the edges with every other card), a road runs along the seaside, punctuated by knights, farmers, castles, and craggy islands. The five year old in me finds this fascinating, and imagines no end of stories inspired by the scene that unfolds. They remind me of bedtimes when Dad made up stories for me about favorite book characters because the books themselves had been exhausted. We also picked up a few paper scenes from this shop - a miniature farm and a small Victorian neighborhood (which I can't locate, so perhaps I only think we bought it).

Books are not only heavy, but crazy expensive. So while I was sorely tempted many times, I brought home only two books. The first was from the British Museum. So clever of them to put signs in their Japanese exhibit, letting me know what was available in the museum shop! It worked, and on our way out, I picked up A Japanese Menagerie by Kawanabe Kyosai. The anthropomorphism is delightful, and I'm both impressed by the simple grace with which the animals are portrayed, and forced to laugh out loud at their antics. The cover art is part of a painting entitled "Frog School" and in the book itself, among the bats, mice, birds and cats, is picture of a frog rickshaw that I love. Kyosai manipulates the bow legged stance and froggy grimace very cleverly.

Did I say two books? I meant three. Funny, how they multiply when you're not looking. Two cookbooks followed me home. Both were found at discount bookstores, to the relief of my wallet. Our first meal "out" in London was at a noodle chain called Wagamama's. After a cold wander along the Thames, we had a fantastic hot lunch there. The noodles and other ingredients are fresher than fresh, and can be ordered in soups, grilled, with sauce... you name it. When I saw the cookbook for cheap, I snatched it up.

It's not hard to guess that the second book was about pie. When I saw the cover, I chuckled to myself. Tarts with Tops On was just too delicious in name and content to leave behind. My sense of humor was seconded by the bookseller who said lightly "And if you turn the book upside down they'd be tarts with NO tops, now wouldn't they?". The author, Tamasin Day-Lewis, writes her lists of ingredients much like I cook, with "generous handfuls" of things, "yesterday's gravy" and recommendations that "your butcher will do this for you if you ask nicely" and that a particular brand of dry cider "is a killer". I can't wait to try the recipe for Apple Hat and Forfar Bridies.

Portobello Road was good for a shoulder bag and a pair of earrings (which I purchased twice, since I was brilliant enough to lose one of the first pair within a day). I came away from Camden Locks with a small black leather pig with two buttons for nostrils. He is quintessential Camden - punk/goth style and slightly off the wall. Borough Market yielded lovely foodstuffs, much of which I couldn't possibly get back to the states in one piece. I'll post more about that particular visit later, because it's food and I could go on and on about it. I did find yarn... can't remember where now, but we were in a courtyard with some lovely vintage shops. I saw diner style china on the shelves that was exactly the pattern my mother has at camp! (That kind of thing happened much more often than expected.) Sadly, I left behind a red tea set with white polka dots and some electrically pastel and tinselly vintage christmas decorations, for the best probably.

Homesick for the UK

2008-01-28T18:14:00.000-04:00

It's my second week back to the grind after a two week vacation visiting good friends in London. The funny homesickish stomach pangs (no, not pains - pangs, pain with fangs) I feel every time I think about my trip aren't as strong as they were that first week or so.

When I was a kid, we vacationed with the cousins in Maine. Landlocked for the rest of the year, and obsessed with the ocean, I literally had to be torn away when we left. During the long car ride back, and the awful process of unpacking, I reveled in every shell, freckle and piece of sand I managed to bring home with me. I often hid a piece of clothing from the laundry pile (and my mother, supervisor and processor of said pile). Usually a t-shirt or sweatshirt that smelled like my time there... pine trees and sun-bleached salt. I'd pull it out every once in a while, breathe in, wallow in my sense of loss. Eventually, my mother found the stray item, or I faced facts and surrendered it to the hamper. I learned early on that you could belong to more than one place, and that the sense of being homesick for someplace that wasn't technically "Home" was probably a permanent state of affairs.

Leaving London was very much like this. And I certainly did not expect that. For so many reasons. I am public transportation phobic, probably because I've never really experienced real public transportation. Oh yes, I've taken buses, but this is a small rural state, it's just not the same. I'm an outdoorsy person, not necessarily in a rugged, athletic way- but I do need to be out of doors or my sanity begins to ebb. I believe in sidewalk etiquette - I move for you, you move for me. I have rather a hard time with big crowds, when being short becomes a frustrating disadvantage. I'm fairly social... but that doesn't always mean I like... people. So while I was looking forward to the visit, I was also anticipating some disenchantment with the daily experiences of city living.

Didn't happen. No disenchantment. Enjoyed the tube, and became reasonably comfortable with the maps. And once a city feels accessible to you, it changes everything. Chimney pots... Twilight in London is gorgeous because there is so much dramatic architecture outlined by the purpling sky. Chimney pots may not be your idea of drama, but to a gal who gobbled up British literature like it was candy, they were iconic! Bland food? My mother will attest to my life long love affair with potatoes. Especially mashed. Perfected by a pint of good beer (it seemed impossible to find bad beer actually), and some kind of meat served hot... in a pie. So happy to see so much pie, buttery pie crust being another great food love. Sticky toffee pudding? When I die, I may just stipulate that family and friends be served sticky toffee pudding. I truly believe it would snap them right out of mourning. I thought the food "plain" rather than bland, and admit that i relished plain for two weeks straight and missed it when I got home. My need for green was satisfied with a long walk through a park between tube stations. We walked every day, so much so that with all the delicious food I was inhaling, I lost a few pounds! There was plenty of outdoors to be out in. To be quite Mary Poppins about it, it was all in all a very satisfactory visit in every way. I would love to go back. I would love to win the lottery so I could afford to go back.

I don't want to be one of those people who is so enamored of their trip (and themselves) that they go on ad nauseum. Perhaps it's too late for me already in that respect. I won't promise not to talk more about our vacation, but I'll try to be reasonable. Consider this fair warning of more posts and pictures about the food and sights!

WTF?

2008-01-25T21:43:00.000-04:00

So, there have been a lot of very strange and unpleasant things happening to me lately. Tonight, to cap off a crappy week, my ex-husband called me. WTF?!?! Why? Why did he call? Am I just being immature? Am I supposed to be friends with him? I've long since let go of the anger towards him, and I have forgiven him for a good many of the bad things that he did, but I don't want to be friends with him. I don't want us call each other and compare notes on how life has gone since we split. Why? Why would either of us want that? I don't want to know about him, and I don't want to share my current life with him either. Is this weird or am I just over-reacting?

I might be back

2008-01-23T21:54:00.000-04:00

Hey, it's nice to see you again... I'm feeling much more relaxed and I'm not feeling the need to take copious amounts of my anti-anxiety medication. For those of you who emailed and asked, it wasn't anything to do with family, or illness, or accidents. Because of what I do for a living, I really can't say exactly what happened to send me close to a nervous breakdown, but I think we are now in a place where we can start behaving normally. If nothing else, the most obvious thing learned from this is that I have got to get out of banking.

The main reason to break the blog silence is that after complaining for at least a year about my lack of a laptop computer, I now have a laptop computer! There's nothing like an anxiety attack to send a girl right out to spend too much money, is there? I'm completely and totally in love with this thing. I got a Toshiba Satellite on sale last weekend and so far, I'm really very impressed. Now I can sit on the couch and blog and surf aimlessly while watching Alton Brown on the Food Network. It doesn't get much better than that, now does it? I'm also pleased that I'm not hating Windows Vista as much as I had been warned. I am afraid that I will end up bankrupting myself buying new games to play on it, since it seems that many things I already have are not willing to play nicely with Vista.

Another reason to blog is that we had a little bit of a scare the other night. Right around 8:45 Monday night, I heard some strange sounds and went out on the deck. It was dark and quiet and at first nothing seemed wrong. Then I heard and saw what looked like fireworks, which might be unusual this time of year, but there are quite a few college age people around here who like fireworks, so I didn't think much of it. Then I heard someone yelling and suddenly there were sparks in the air, and smoke billowing from a building about five houses away from us. I ran back inside and went to the front window for a better view, and there were flames shooting up the entire front of the building. I don't think I realized just how fast fire moves. I ran upstairs to get Mark, and by the time I got back downstairs, it was really bad. Bad enough that the sparks (Who am I kidding? These were big flaming chucks of wood flying through the air) drifting over our roof made me start looking for the cat carrier, and deciding what to do and if we should be getting ready to leave. I like to be prepared, you know. We were also a little concerned because from what we could tell at the time, the building on fire was right next to the building that Mark's cousin lives in. It was a while before anyone felt like relaxing and going to bed. Fortunately no one was hurt, mostly because no one was home, and a neighbor even got the dog and two cats from the house out. It certainly made me think about our own fire safety plan. You never think it will happen to you, but it can. Sometimes being overly anxious and extra prepared can pay off.

explanation

2008-01-16T15:11:00.000-04:00

I guess I can't keep kidding myself that I'm blogging on a regular basis anymore. Most of our readers are close friends and family, but there are a few other readers who stop by occasionally. I feel that I owe you some sort of explanation so at least I don't have to have this nagging sense of guilt about not writing.

I've been taking a bit of a break from blogging because of certain things that are slightly out of my control right now. Pretty much the only thing occupying my mind these days is the one thing I can't blog about. I haven't been knitting so I have no pretty things to show anyone. One of the things I need to have in order to write here is a sense of humor, and I've sort of lost that right now. I do know that this is temporary, and I'll be back at some point, really.

I hope that in the meantime Kate will have some stories about her recent trip to the UK to keep us all entertained!

Greetings from the Land of Pie!

2008-01-02T17:07:00.000-04:00

A quick post, since my friend Alex has just removed pork and sausage pasties from the oven. Which means dinner is imminent. The grocery here is packed with a variety of pie beyond my wildest imaginings. Bite size, hand sized, full sized with anything from fruit or custard to meats. You name it, the Brits have put it in a pie. They're best with hot mashed (potatoes) and a interestingly named beer... like Bishop's Finger, Fursty Ferret, Bishop's Tipple (bishops here, so straight laced and of fine reputations), Old Peculiar, Spitfire and Snecklifter. We're not drinking them all at once, of course, but it's fun to pull one out of the fridge and ask a pal if they'd like a bit of Spitfire. Bishop's Finger has been the best for crude jokes, besides being a good beer.

Time for supper, and a chance to watch our slideshow of photos for the day, so I'll sign off. Cheers!

Lame Christmas Post

2007-12-21T15:00:00.000-04:00

This month has completely gotten away from me. I have abandoned all further Christmas knitting, as every spare moment from now until the day after Christmas has been accounted for in working, wrapping, visiting and maybe a little sleeping.

The scarf for my MIL is done. Mitts and neck warmer for my mom are done and already gifted (she's flying to Indiana to see my grandmother this afternoon) and the mitts for Mark are done and being worn. I always think I'll have time for it all, which I probably would if it weren't for the above listed things like working and sleeping. Anything else is simply not going to get done. Apologies all around.

I also have not mailed any Christmas cards. Please don't feel singled out if you sent me one and didn't get one in return. No one did. I can't quite bring myself to send out e-cards either. Seems even more shameful than not sending anything.

I have no happy or touching stories to share this year. I've really got a lot of nothing. I explained to Kate earlier that I have pretty much given in to my inner Grinch, and I am only barely preventing myself from freaking out at everything and everyone remotely Christmas associated by stuffing my face with sugar cookies.

In the absence of anything else, I have sunk to a point I promised myself I would never reach on this blog. I was sent an email by a friend with some Christmas questions, and I'm supposed to send it to five friends. So, here you go five friends!

What was the best Christmas present you got as a kid? That's really hard to answer, since I got so many nice presents as a kid. I remember being thrilled that my grandmother bought me the entire set of Laura Ingalls books when I was nine or ten.
What was the best Christmas present you got as an adult? My engagement printer. My husband proposed to me on Christmas night but didn't have a ring, so we call the photo printer he gave me my "engagement printer."
What's your favorite Christmas Carol? Oh Holy Night or What Child Is This. Both make me think of my grandmother and they never fail to make me cry a little bit.**
How long can you stand to listen to Christmas music before you crack? Pretty long, as long as it hasn't started before Thanksgiving.
How many Christmas albums do you own? Probably close to twenty-five. Possibly thirty. Is that too many? Is that weird?
Did you ever go caroling as a kid? Yes. It was a Grace Brigham/Shrewsbury thing.
Would you willingly eat fruitcake? I've never had fruitcake.
Do you own any Christmas Sweaters? No.
Do you own any Christmas jewelry? What? Yes. Four pins. A snowman pin and a Christmas tree pin, both in simple silver.The other two belonged to my grandmother. One is a wreath shaped pin with green and red enamel and faux gemstones as ornaments. Yes, it's as bad as it sounds. The other is a silver filigree snowflake with pale blue stones through out.
Do you wear them? Yes, with the exception of the wreath. I'm wearing the snowflake right now.
Did your family have any Christmas traditions? Like what? Oh boy. Yes. Many traditions, far too many to list. For years as a kid I would buy my mom an ornament with the year on it. I still don't know if she even like it, but it went on for years. As a grown-up, I try to see Holiday Inn with Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby sometime before the end of the holiday season.
Do you buy Christmas presents for your pets? Yes.
What's your favorite Christmas cookie? Snickerdoodles.
What's your favorite Christmas candy? This year I discovered that Cabury's makes a Christmas version of their candy-coated eggs. That's the favorite this year.
What's your stocking look like. Blue velvet with silver stitching.
What's the oldest ornament on your tree? My mother has all my childhood ornaments and everything else was trashed when I got divorced. Everything now is new from 2001 on.
Real or artificial? Real.
Do you have Christmas decorations or lights outside? No.
How far would you drive to see Christmas lights? I don't understand the question. Do people do that? It's nice to see some as I'm driving home, but go look for them? No.
Are you a fan of tasteful or tacky? Oh, please. Tacky all the way!

Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday, Peace on Earth, safe travels, and much love to all!

**Christmas Eve update: Yep, Oh Holy Night made me cry like a baby in church again tonight, right on cue. The fact that it was followed up by Silent Night with all the lights out except our candles didn't help. If they had thrown in What Child Is This, I would probably still be there.

Who Are You and How Did You Get Here?

2007-12-06T11:24:00.000-04:00

I promised another update on some of the random blog hits we get, so here they are. Being able to see what strangers have been looking for offers me much amusement every week.

People who found us by searching for things with "disaster" in their search included classic disaster, disaster wedding, ugly knitting disasters, and many simple knitting disasters.

Searches including knitting but not disasters had (and I have not corrected anything for grammar or spelling) knit drinking glasses sleeves, knitted coffee sleeves, knitting gourmet, hug me knitting, and my favorite in this category: knitting head won't fit.

In random hits that could possibly stretch to cover something we talked about, we have hits for chocolate maramge pie as well as cholate marange pie. At first I thought this must be from the same person, misspelling their search twice, but no. These came from separate people in Idaho and Kentucky. Apparently the pressure of having to make a cholate maramge pie the night before Thanksgiving sent their ability to spell right out the window. There are also searches for electromagnetic street lights, life aquatic costumes, franken chickens, my neighbors make me crazy (I feel your pain, really I do), and my personal favorite this time around: stop dog from sh*tting on lawn. Man, I really wish I could help you there. Kate, I think we need to explore this franken chicken thing a little more. This time the search tracked back to someone with an IP address at Disney World. I'm thinking movie rights...

Christmas, Part II

2007-12-04T11:48:00.000-04:00

I called this post Christmas Part II, because I got over here to find out that Kate had beat me to the gift update post. I do have some pictures of my progress for you.

This is the first of what will hopefully end up as a pair of fingerless mitts for my mom. She's like me (or technically, I'm like her) in that her hands are always cold. The yarn is a superwash merino from Art Yarns that I used for my own mitts. The colors in the photo are pretty true to how the really look. When choosing colors for Mom, she's very flexible, as long as they fall in to the category she refers to as "Hello Kitty Colors." The pattern is my own design, cobbled together from about three written patterns and my unfailing stubbornness to follow a written pattern.

Next up, a scarf for my mother-in-law. This is a fairly simple and (in my opinion) a slightly boring scarf. I do like the flippy little ruffle on the ends. My MIL is a very sweet woman, who I am very lucky to have drawn in the In-Law lottery. She is always very put together. She doesn't wear clothes so much as she wears outfits. I'm hoping that this will fit in to her outdoor repetoire somewhere. I really hope so, since there are about eleventy-billion stitches in this scarf.

These are the socks least likely to be finished for Christmas. I'm not saying who they are for, since I think she reads this blog and I don't want to disappoint her if they don't get done. I adore these socks, done in a variegated Koigu (the blue/green yarn) and Cherry Tree Hill solid purple. They are knit in a two-color stranded pattern from Charlene Schurch, and I'm so proud of this sock! It's the first time I've been able to get the color work on a stranded sock to properly make it's way around the heel. I even managed to get the heel gusset to stripe like it was supposed to. Love, love, love them. On second thought, maybe they will have to be my Christmas socks and I'll make something else for her. Don't tell her I said that.

Okay, so that sweater for my honey. He and I talked about it yesterday and after a long list of excuses, he said to me "Even if you started that sleeve right this second, it wouldn't be done by Christmas, would it?" No, no it wouldn't. "Why don't you see how much you can get done on your other things before doing mine?" I do so love that man. I'm still feeling guilty about it, though. I've done about four embroidered pieces that will eventually be a quilt/throw for him. These are the two I have photos of today. I can imagine how I want this to look, I just hope I can make my vision a reality. Don't feel too bad for him - he will be getting many fine Christmas presents. They will most likely come from amazon or somewhere else on line. No malls for me. They give me hives.

In other news, I won a trivia contest online, and I won yarn! Yay for free yarn! The online shop is www.sonnyandshear.com and they have a great store. I've gotten a few skeins from them in the past and I found them to have a wonderful selection. I may wait until after the Christmas knitting is done before I go shopping though. I certainly don't need any pretty distractions. Kris from sonny & shear also has a really interesting and well written blog at http://knittingwannabe.typepad.com/. If you need yarn, give them a look!

Next up... another installment of "Who are you and how did you get here?" You won't believe some of them!

Finding time

2007-12-04T11:14:00.000-04:00

Every knitting article I see this time of year assumes we have all the time we need to make handmade gifts for friends and family. I believe them every time... forgetting to factor in things like, oh... shovelling, making dinner, eating dinner, paying bills, grocery shopping, and sitting around wondering how people with kids get it all done.

I have three, no, four projects on needles right now. That beats out the number of books I'm reading at the same time. I try to keep my projects simple, since I do walk away and can forget what the stitch pattern was, which row of the pattern I was on, etc. I also forget where I wrote down those details. The Better Half got me a small notebook that I could hang from my neck like a pair of librarian glasses. You know, on a silver chain so I wouldn't lose it. Of course I misplaced it, with my project progress notes inside. So I am forced to scatter them across various notebooks at my desk. Not in the front, oh no... but on whatever page I quickly flipped open to because I was in a hurry to put the knitting down due to some highly distracting factor like burning soup or a knock at the door, sometimes both.

Of my four projects, I must finish the Christmas present. I had myself convinced that it would take no time at all, and sat down to start with scads of holiday cheer. I've now started it four times, and I'm mad at having lied to myself about the easy factor. Some yarns get so cranky after you pull them out a third time. Mauch Chunky wool begins to pull apart when you cast on repeatedly. I hate knots in my cast on, I truly do. Ultimately, it will be felted so I suppose it doesn't matter, but it's terribly annoying. I'm sure it will get done, in that last minute panic that punctuates much of my holiday preparation.

With any luck, we'll get some more snow, the temperatures will be inhospitable, I'll be trapped inside with my needles and the yarn, and we'll work out some kind of truce.

Turkey with a side of disaster

2007-11-21T10:58:00.000-04:00

This is not my home, thank goodness. I should have sensed a disaster day in the making when I read Heather's post - an earthquake?! Yesterday, someone launched their car into the air and through a living room wall the next town over - can you imagine a car in your living room? And the disoriented driver wandering around your home?

Anyway, the Better Half and I were home, adding up the day. He was kicking himself for a traffic ticket he'd garnered, and I was pulling turkey day ingredients out of our cabinets and muttering things like "Corn syrup, check. Pecans - need 'em". We went out to dinner to decompress a bit, and to do the last of the holiday grocery shopping (you can never have enough cranberries). I needed just one (more) skein of wool for a gift I'm making, so we stopped at a local craft store that carries decent yarn right next door to the grocery store. I found my yarn (and a few other things besides), and we hopped back into the car. On the way over to the grocery store, we heard the wheel rubbing. Somebody had backed into our bumper, cracked the headlight and dented our front fender in enough to make the wheel scrape when we hit bumps.

We were going to go to the Cape to see family on Friday... eat pulled pork and sweet potatoes, sew a slip cover for the futon, walk on the beach, have a fire in the fireplace... and because some rotten individual 1) didn't pay attention and 2) didn't stop and leave their name and contact information, we may not be doing that. Deductibles being what they are, we will probably be paying for this all by our little selves. The Better Half has the car at work today, and a sympathetic coworker may just be able to help us out enough to get us safely on the road for the weekend.

I'm an odd mix of cynicism and naivete. I'm rarely surprised but often terribly disappointed with how bad people can be sometimes. Thank god for car-guy coworkers, they help balance out my feelings about the people around me.

May you have your favorite holiday eats on the table this week, good company, helpful and kind people to offset the nasty types, and a better half who would never blame a fender dent on the fact that you needed yarn.

Merry Turkey!

Holy Weather and Weirdness, Batman!

2007-11-20T16:22:00.000-04:00

Not only has it been snowing here ALL DAY LONG, but we had an earthquake. A real, honest to god earthquake. Our building is pretty solid, but the place shook and there was a booming noise that sounded like someone had crashed in to the building. If this is what we have to look forward to around here, I don't like it, not one little bit! This is the sixth quake that we have had in the immediate vicinity of where I work since last spring. A few of them have been so minor that I didn't really notice them. the last one we had over the summer was a 1.9 on the Richter scale. So far I've heard that today's quake was anywhere from a 2.4 to a 3.2, depending on who you ask. I hate to be a baby, but it really had us scared here for a while. We really had no idea what it was and it sounded like a bomb had gone off.

That's it - nothing else to report!

Bad Blogger

2007-11-17T10:20:00.000-04:00

My god what happened around here? One post in the month of November? And that was from Kate! It appears that my last post was close to a month ago...I'm sorry, I didn't even realize I was being so bad. So, what have I been doing for the past month? Not much, really. Well, not much that I would consider blog-worthy. But I'll tell you anyway. You knew I would.

Work is...work. About the same unending dreariness that it has been for a few months now. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, though. I am so pleased that I have finally found someone to come and take on the position as my assistant manager. Sometimes I think a little unemployment is a good thing. It has seemed for a while now that all the people who we would want working here already have jobs, so the parade of applicants has been a little sparse. I don't think many people realize just how policy and procedure driven banking is. Or how very very involved the government is in banking. To look at some of our more unpopular regulations you would have to assume that we are the last or possibly only chance to stop terrorism funding on the planet. "Hi, you'd like to open a small savings account for your toddler? Great, have a seat and fill out this huge, invasive questionnaire and we should be able to wrap this up before your child has a screaming fit from having to sit in my office for an hour." Okay, it isn't that bad, but it's close. Don't ever utter the words Patriot Act near me unless you want to see someone have a fit of epic proportions. Hate that thing. Bad, BAD thing! Evil! Anyway, my point here was going to be that being a manger in many other fields does not necessarily translate in to a career in banking management. I'm sure many of these people would make great managers, but this isn't something you can pick up in a couple of weeks. I wanted someone with at least some banking experience. As a former teller myself, it can be really hard to have a boss who can not answer the simplest questions about Reg CC or BSA policies. Anyway. I think I may have found just the right person. She's sweet, funny, and smart and seems to be willing to do whatever needs to be done. I like that in a person. Just make a decision and run with it. And she has many years of banking experience which pleases me no end. She starts training on Monday and should be in our office sometime at the beginning of December. Halle-freakin-lujah!

No knitting. I have completely fallen off the "knit gifts for Christmas" train. I have a little over a month left, and I have nothing. I'm still swearing up and down to my darling boy that I will finish his sweater. It was supposed to be done for last Christmas. I don't think it will be done for this one either. Really, all I need to do is seam it up and finish one sleeve. That isn't much, considering how many tiny grey and black stockinette stitches have already been put in to it. Hardly anything at all. I don't know why I have such an aversion towards finishing this sweater (see Things you Might Not Know About Me, #55. Thank you). It's really beautiful and deserves to be finished. It's the first thing I've ever made for Mark that he actually wants, which makes this all the more frustrating for both of us. I put it down a year ago because I was angry with the sleeve, and now it sits around mocking me. I didn't like the sleeve pattern or how it was turning out. I've actually given some thought to frogging the completed sleeve and throwing out the pattern. Having considered it for almost a year now, I don't see why I couldn't seam up the sweater sides, pick up stitches at the sleeve opening and knit the sleeve down in the round with decreases where I want them instead of knitting the thing separately with multiple badly placed increases, which then need to be seamed and grafted to the sweater. I really need to do that. I don't suppose anyone can tell me what size needles I was using? No? I didn't think so. I can't remember either.

To further my ongoing efforts to avoid knitting gifts for Christmas, I thought it might be time for a new project. Not knitting. Still thread, but not knitting. Now if you looked at my project area (which is just fancy talk for a pile of crap on either side of the couch and covering the coffee table) today, mixed in with all the started and frogged knitting projects you would see embroidery floss, needles, hoops and bits and pieces of fabric. Yep, I've decided that the flavor of the month is embroidery. I went from making my kitchen curtains to "hey, I'll finish this quilt I started seven years ago," to "oh...I remember why I didn't finish this, I hate it!" to "well, I'll start another quilt, a better quilt! I'd like to try that thing they call crazy quilting, with all the embroidery." That progressed to "hmmm...I don't really know much about embroidery, I think I'd better go buy me some books and stuff." I'm nothing if not thorough when I throw myself headlong in to a new craft. I like to be prepared. I ordered a kit with a book from a great place called Sublime Stitching that arrived yesterday. I am so pleased! If you haven't been to see their stuff, you really should. Sorry to be an enabler, but who could possibly resist embroidery transfers with dancing Day of the Dead skeletons? I certainly couldn't. All my latest purchases prompted Mark to say "you sure do like string." Master of the understatement, that boy. I do like string. String is good.

Soup Weather

2007-11-08T17:14:00.000-04:00

The air has an extra chill in it now. I walk home from work in blue dusk, and the glow in our windows isn't the late afternoon sunshine I'm used to, but the lamp I left on at lunch so I don't walk into a dark house at the end of the day. Once I've shut the door behind me, I'm compelled to do anything I can to dispel the impression of damp and chill in my bones. "Anything I can" generally means food... hot food. I light a few candles, turn on some music, start the dishwasher (because it gives off heat!), and start prepping for soup.

Soup season is also clean-out-the-freezer season. I don't just make an evening's worth of soup, I make enough to feed ourselves and company plus a future meal (or two). I make everything this way, a throw back to watching my mother cook for our family of five. I think I'm actually incapable of cooking for two. I don't recall ever having done it. Unless you count popovers (ah, buttery eggy goodness), but I'm not so sure that one should eat a half dozen popovers in one sitting. The freezer fills up slowly but surely, and when we've had a full day of work, run errands and have collapsed on the couch to ask each other "what's for dinner?", we have a solution. I'm going to be clever this winter, and put a contents list on the freezer door. I'm sure if you asked the Better Half what was in there, he couldn't tell you if his life depended on it. There are really only two things he could ever identify in our freezer - his paint palette, and ice cream. We don't generally keep ice cream about since dessert inhalation is another family trait of mine.

On the burners this week:
Roasted Potato Soup
Thai Chicken Soup

The potato soup is a favorite I stumbled on in a magazine somewhere. I've been making it for so long, I've since forgotten where I first saw it. I cut up yukon gold potatoes (these seem to have the creamiest flavor), sweet onions and apples (a mix of tart and sweet usually). The potatoes and the onions go into an oiled casserole dish for roasting. I dry-roast fennel seeds in a small cast iron skillet until they start to smell fragrant, and then I grind them. To the ground fennel I add cumin, and salt and pepper to taste. I toss the potatoes and onions with these spices and some olive oil, lay the apple quarters on top and pop it into the oven to roast. I find a higher temperature works better - the onions caramelize a bit, and you end up with nice roasty chunks in the soup - so 400 or 425. Roast until the potatoes are cooked through, stirring occasionally. The apples cook more quickly, so I put them in after the first stir, keep checking them, and when they're mushy I gently scoop them out with a spoon. Once they've cooled, the skins should come off fairly easily. When everything is cooked through, the apple flesh, potatoes and onions go into a blender with chicken broth (I've tried veggie broth, and it works just fine, but doesn't have as creamy a flavor). I deglaze the casserole dish with chicken broth, scraping the roasty bits into the blender as well. A squeeze of fresh lemon (to taste) helps to keep the soup from being too bland, and I highly recommend it. The soup can be as chunky or as smooth as you'd like it to be depending on the amount of broth and how much you puree the ingredients. This is often a Sunday afternoon activity for me, as it heats the house up nicely, makes everything smell lovely, and we end up with a very hearty meal. I like it best with a side of apple slices and gruyere or sharp cheddar.

The chicken soup is a recent experiment from a new cookbook called "400 Soups". It's full of typical Thai ingredients - coconut milk, chicken stock, lime leaves, lemongrass, fish sauce, ginger. There is a local Thai restaurant that serves the creamiest tom yam or tom kah. From first tastes, this is not quite that (the chicken stock I used seemed a little on the heavily flavored side), but still pretty good. The true test is how well it reheats and/or freezes.

Leftovers will be bundled up for the freezer (which already contains beef and onion broth and some chicken gravy). I usually fill a few small containers too, since I work close enough to walk home for lunch. The fun part is identifying mysterious soup at the end of the winter. Freezer labels never stick to plastic containers well or they never come off, no matter how much you scrub - a batch of my mother's applesauce used to say "spag. sauce 8/1/89". Plastic bags can be a bit awkward to store if there's too many. My memory isn't what it once was, and mystery soup or sauce has become a regular problem in our house. Twine and paper tags? Color coded dots? Or we could just content ourselves with a little mystery in our lives, and find out what we're having for dinner when it thaws.

Who Are You and How Did You Get Here?

2007-10-20T09:09:00.000-04:00

Okay, so this post is a kind of rip off from a blog that I read fairly regularly. She had a post about how people were finding her blogsite, and it just made me laugh. I also have a program attached to our own little blog that tracks who visits, what they might be reading, and most interesting to me - how they got here. Some people have found us through groups or Ravelry or are already our friends and family. It's the other people that stumble across us that I'm talking about now. Through this tracking website you can find out exactly what people searched to get to us. We get our fair share of "knitting disasters" which seems fairly obvious, what with our title and all. Google also listed us on a search for "knitting engineer." Why, no I'm not, but thanks for thinking such nice things about us! Some of the ones that make some sort of sense based on our posts are "santa atv snowglobe," "eating yarn," "towing flat bed," and "bad neighbor snow." All things we have referenced in some way if not specifically in that order of words. Some of the ones that really make me wonder are "goldfish costume pattern" and "batman zap pow zing." Kate, you may be interested to know that someone in Poland searched for "franken chickens." Does that mean they really exist? Are they common over there? Now, my favorites. The runner up has to be "baseboard heat groan." What an interesting way to put words together. My number one favorite is "stinky hedge bush." First, we have written about hedges and/or bushes. But stinky bushes? These poor people! First the problem of some sort of stinky bush - it must be pretty bad to do a Google search about it. Second, these poor bush afflicted people end up with us. I tend to be a people pleaser and I feel as though I should help them somehow. What kind of bush is it, exactly? Why is it stinky? Is it naturally stinky or has it been made stinky through some strange occurance? Maybe you should just rip it out? I don't know if a bush can be fixed once it gets stinky.

So, you can't hide from us anymore. We may not know who you are, but we know where you are (relatively speaking, that is). I can't always figure out why you're here, so if you stop by, say hi! We're friendly even if we aren't engineers, and we promise to try to help you!

Pie... it's a genetic predisposition

2007-10-13T22:49:00.001-04:00

Spent the afternoon in the old hometown today, drinking coffee and wandering from bookstore to bookstore. I did not find another pie cookbook, but I did have dinner with my parents. After-dinner ramblings usually take an interesting turn at my folk's place (embarrassing family stories and all that). This time, inspired by my upcoming trip to England, Dad pulled out my grandfather's genealogy notebooks and... it is highly probably that I am a direct descendant of the "Sargent of the Pastry" to Queen Elizabeth I. That doesn't mean he could make pie himself, but it does mean that one year, in the traditional stack of gifts to the Queen for the New Year, was a gilded quince pie from my family. My fascination for Elizabeth I is equal to my fascination with pie, so this was fantastic news, and I had to blog about it.

Our Halloween Party's 10th Anniversary

2007-10-09T18:32:00.000-04:00

It's true. It's been ten years since "the first" Halloween Party in my apartment in the North End. Alex came as Frankenstein and was so in character I didn't recognize him when I answered the door. The Better Half was there too (before I knew he was really the better half), and there were eyeballs (apples with raisin centers) in the punch. My brother dressed as the tooth fairy, and everyone said his wig made him look like his sisters. The party itself was simple, but the costumes were amazing. I loved giving my friends a chance to display their creativity. I'm sorry I don't have pictures of that year - the goldfish costume alone was stunning.

The next year, Alex and Bobbi (in their tiny apartment downstairs from Steve's not-quite-as-tiny apartment) fed us all a spaghetti supper on Halloween and we watched them do multiple costume changes as they decided what to wear later in the evening. I had no idea you could transition from macabre Victorian gentleman to revolutionary politician so quickly. It was my first introduction to Bobbi's fondness for fangs in her Halloween costumes. Somehow, she always manages to work them in.

And it grew. When Bobbi bought her little house, we took advantage of the perfect Halloween Party sized yard. I remember carving dozens of pumpkins... and giant pumpkins that took three of us to roll onto a truck, big enough for me to crawl into when hollowed out. I remember mad scientist labs, cobwebs, candlelight...

Looking through the pictures, I am amazed at what we pulled off. A pirate ship. An honest to goodness sunken pirate ship complete with skeletal captain at the wheel. In the back yard. A mausoleum... torches, mummy, fantastically creepy cemetery. A smoke breathing dragon that we later donated to the local Haunted Forest (a non-profit organization). He was my chicken-wire and PVC-pipe-framed baby, and I'm still sad we had to give him up. The witch Alex's grandfather built that always greeted guests and trick-or-treaters from the front porch (the fingernails that curled 'round the rocking chair arms were my favorite skin-crawling detail).

There was frantic last minute prep. There was crankiness and stage fright. But really, it was all worth it to see the reaction of the guests and trick-or-treaters when they came through the gate into that tiny and Halloween-magicked backyard.

I've posted pictures of our projects, but there's just not room to post our friend's costumes. A shark eating a diver, the most amazing bride of Frankenstein ever, an airplane, a giant sunflower, Team Zissou from Life Aquatic, corporate pirates... the list is endless and impressive.

Alex and Bobbi, our source of Halloween inspiration and collaboration are in London for the next year. London - rich in creepy history. Halloween all the time if you wish it so. I read about a pre-anaesthesia operating theatre that's been turned into a museum, and A & B have already been on a Jack the Ripper pub crawl - enough combination of kitsch and creep to be quite fun.

We've been wondering if we should even DO a Halloween Party this year. But it's year TEN. And my best friend from high school (he's also our neighbor) can't host it (believe me, I did my best, and he bought it... and then he came to his senses). So it's on, despite the fact that it feels weird without our partners in all things Halloween. Really, we can't NOT do it, now can we?! And once you cave, Halloween Party accoutrements seem to materialize before your eyes... Really, who couldn't do with a nice pair of spider web drinking glasses, or an extra skull?

A Nice Few Days

2007-10-07T09:36:00.000-04:00

As a reward for being a good girl and not burning the bank to the ground, I was given permission to take the few days off that I had planned since February. This is my favorite time of year, and I always take a few vacation days right around Columbus day. I really needed the time off, and I can't tell you how wonderful it was. I spent most of my time channeling my inner June Cleaver, cooking, knitting, organizing, sewing, and generally pulling my self back together.

We didn't really go anywhere special, since M only took Friday off to hang out with me, but we did go to the annual Dover Apple Harvest Festival. I kept asking him all morning if he was sure he wanted to go, but he assured me that it was fine. He was encouraged by the prospect of visiting Bald Face Books on our walk home. He was pretty good until we crossed over Central Ave and he got a look at just how many people where there. Crowds, screaming children and crafts. Not exactly his cup of tea. I lured him further in with promises of food down on the other end in Henry Law Park. Much bad for you fair food was consumed which was really the reason I wanted to go in the first place. Fried dough is a powerful motivator.

I had the chance to actually cook this week, and made all sorts of comfort food, including beef stew, chili, meatloaf (which I haven't made in probably eight years, but turned out amazingly well - I credit the use of garlic bread from the night before instead of dried breadcrumbs for keeping it relatively moist) and chicken parmigiana.

After ignoring it for six years or so, I dragged out the sewing machine, having decided that the kitchen needed curtains. The kitchen windows have mini-blinds, but I hate that closed off feeling they give. I didn't want to give up the privacy they offered, so I ended up leaving them and making cafe curtains for the bottom half. This picture is crap because of the lighting, but you get the idea.

Another reason I needed to keep the curtains short is the shelves.

Someone decided that two of the three windows needed these funny little shelves. Now that I am used to them and am no longer smacking my head on the many times a day, I love these shelves.

The curtains took far longer than I thought they would, partly because I've lost the sewing machine manual and after so many years it took a while to get back to my comfort level with the machine. Threading the bobbin was an adventure all by itself. I was also distracted by a knock at the door from the FedEx guy, who had a package for us. I hadn't ordered anything, so what could it be?

Books!

More wonderful books from a blogless friend! (Thank you generous blogless friend!) I was just looking at both of those books online the other day! One book is KnitKnit which includes some pretty basic knit items taken to amazing lengths, as well as some things that I'm not sure how they happened. Who starts their day thinking "hmmmm...I think I'll knit a fourteen foot tall fiberglass teddy bear." Well, someone did, and it's amazing to see how people have stretched the boundaries of knitting. The other is Knitting New Scarves, which has many, many interesting and complex scarf patterns. You think knitting scarves is boring? All in one direction? Think again and check out this book. I just happened to pass my LYS on our way home from the apple festival, and picked up some Rowan Revue yarn and I'm going to figure out what to knit with it this afternoon.

Tuesday I will have to go back to work, and new position or no...I'm not really looking forward to it. I will at least go back rested and refreshed.

End of summer summary

2007-10-06T11:31:00.000-04:00

Things have finally slowed down to a more reasonable pace. This post will be higher on photos than usual.

Alex and Bobbi are married (Bobbi's bouquet at left) and in London... with our cat I might add. Okay, she's not truly ours, but she is on the list of my three most favorite cats ever. The ultimate Halloween kitty, living the life of a world traveler. We've bought our tickets, and on Boxing Day, we're headed to London to mooch off our dear friends for two weeks. I'm sure we'll drag each other all over creation, but I'm looking forward to some good old fashioned family style meals together again too.

On Heather's recommendation (her salve for my work-wounded spirit), I went to the Vermont Sheep and Wool Festival. We saw a fantastic display of working sheep dogs - truly amazing animals, and of course loads and loads of fiber. Everything a fiber nut could possibly want was there... including the animals the goods came from!

Our kick-off to the autumn season was my brother's wedding. We chased that with the Scottish Highland Games in New Hampshire (which seemed appropriate since my brother and his best man were kilted). Last weekend, we stayed with my folks at camp in the Northeast Kingdom. Went on a short hike to ogle foliage and spent the rest of the time eating and puttering around doing odd jobs out there. While moving wood, we found a monarch chrysalis on the woodpile. It caught my eye because it stood out against the bark - beautiful jade green with metallic gold spots.

The latest addiction is patchwork bags. There's a lovely new quilting store the next town over, and I paid it a visit. The Better Half has no idea why one would express their appreciation for fabric colors and patterns with the word "yum", so he left me to my own devices just long enough for me to pig out. The weather is cooling down, and my habits turn indoors, so I hope to crank out a few bags and knit some franken-chickens this winter.

Today, we breakfasted at our favorite coffee hole, and hit the last weekend of the farmer's market. It was nice to wander the stalls this morning, before the crowds descended. We met a potter with a sense of humor that shows in his work, and his wares will make good Christmas presents. Not to be left out, we bought ourselves a ninja robot mug. I picked up a fennel bulb and leeks, and i'll grill those tomorrow to make a slaw to go with our pale ale bratwurst. If it stops raining, we'll stop at the orchard to get the makings for apple crisp. Heart stopping sausage and a dessert packed full of butter - there is no better fall meal!

Please Don't Congratulate Me

2007-10-02T10:39:00.000-04:00

Anyone interested in why I haven’t been emailing or blogging much lately? I have no excuse other than complete mental and physical exhaustion because of this:

Memorandum
To: All Bank Employees
From: ***
Date: 10/2/2007
Re: Lafayette Branch Manager

I am pleased to announce that Heather L has been promoted to the position of Branch Manager at our Lafayette Rd. branch. She began her career with *** in 2004 as the Assistant Branch Manager of the Lafayette Rd. branch.

Heather began her banking career in 1991 at Portsmouth Savings Bank. She has held various positions over the years from teller to assistant manager while increasing her knowledge of the financial field.

She brings to her new position excellent customer service skills, an understanding of the existing customer base, and desire to learn and grow with the organization.

Please join me in congratulating Heather in her new role and wishing her much success!

What a load of sh*t. Desire to learn and grow, my fat *ss. I’m really not happy about this.

Our last manager left on August 10th, and I’ve been manning the ship alone ever since. Originally I applied for the job, but then withdrew my application because I felt really manipulated and that just made me more stubborn about the entire situation.

I’ve been in banking now for about sixteen years, and I can honestly say that this is not where I ever thought I would be. I took my first bank job as a teller because it was a step up from working at the mall. As time went on different opportunities came up I moved around and did different things but always stayed in banking. At that point in my life, it didn't seem that bad. Then I went and got divorced. This meant I needed more money, fast. I took my first banking position in management, and I’ve regretted it ever since. You know when something just doesn’t feel right? This didn’t feel right. Of course, I was in a situation where I couldn’t possibly win and there were even days when there were tellers physically attacking each other in the lobby. I had no support, no back up, no chance. After M and I got engaged, we decided it was time to get out of Massachusetts and see what was going on back home on the Seacoast. So, off to another management job in banking. Still not feeling right but a job none the less which was really the important part at the time. This wasn't as bad, since there was an experienced manager already there, but still it was not quite what I wanted. Until of course, she quit. And I don’t blame her, she needed to quit.

So, this brings me back to this August. As the only person who could do any type of customer service or supervision at all, I was pretty much here all day every day 8:15 to 5:15, usually with about fifteen minutes for lunch. I couldn’t leave the building. Well, I could leave the building, but the farthest I could go was usually the mail box. Some weeks I would get a day off during the week when another branch manager would take pity on me and cover for the day. The last time I had a Saturday off was August 11th. There's no overtime pay since I'm salaried and this is truly the first time I have regretted that.

When I withdrew my initial application, no one seemed to care. Frankly I couldn’t have been more honest with these people about just how much I didn’t want this job, and how I was obviously not the person they were looking for. Time passed. A few weeks, in fact. There was no ad placed in the paper. No one else internally was interested in the job. No one outside the bank really even knew we were looking for help. Five weeks after our manager left I was approached by the same woman I originally interviewed with, and I was asked to reconsider. It was made fairly clear to me that the only way I was going to get any help here at all was to take over as manager and find an assistant. I thought about it for a couple of days. I finally said yes, I would reconsider, as long as they knew they were getting me exactly as I am. Nothing had changed for me in the last five weeks and I still didn't really see myself as the type they were looking for. But I was willing to give it a shot. I really and honestly thought that since they asked me, this was a done deal and we were all just going to move on. In general I think I am pretty smart and savvy about people, but sometimes my naiveté stuns me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The very next day, they put an ad in the paper, looking for a branch manager. Many, many days went by with almost no contact from these people. One of them was overheard to say that since they had put in the ad after all, she wanted to get her moneys worth out of it. Yep, after this same person asked me to please take the job she says this. I kept getting put off. One day when I actually asked what was going on I was told that she was talking to the other idiot in charge about this “situation.” When I asked her what situation she was talking about her answer was, “well, you know, how you decided you wanted the job after all.” Like I had thrown them all into a tizzy because suddenly I wanted the job. Like they hadn’t asked me to take the job. I’m the situation? Me? But, wait. I don't really want the job. I said yes because I felt I needed to. I'm the situation? I thought I was fixing the situation. I'm the situation?!?

On a Monday I was told I would know what their decision was on Friday. Friday I was told I would know on Tuesday. Tuesday I was told I would know on Thursday. Thursday came and went with noting at all. Finally, last Friday, after SEVEN WEEKS of manipulation and time wasting, I get a three minute phone call saying they want to offer me the job. And I had to decide right then and there. The only reason I have said yes is because at this point I want to get paid for what I’ve been doing for two months. Plus, if I can just manage to hang on until February when we get our bonus, it will certainly be a better bonus. Great reasons, huh?

I just hope I’ve made the right decision.

End of the Summer of Socks

2007-09-19T08:37:00.000-04:00

This is the fourth and final pair completed for the Summer of Socks. It ended up being a completely plain sock, but I think it will be my favorite. I love the stripes and the pink heel and toe are from a slightly thicker yarn. These may be the most comfortable socks I've made. Overall, the Summer of Socks was a success for me, because it encouraged me to actually complete pairs of socks, not just randomly cast on something new after I lose interest. I didn't ever think I had a shot at most socks knit, so I didn't end up disappointed or anything. Knowing that I have to work six days a week really puts the sock knitting slightly behind some other things in life, like eating and sleeping. Most of my sock knitting happened at night while watching the Red Sox (no, I do not wish to discuss that right now). I did win some stitch markers, and the best part? Four finished pairs of socks. Now I just need to convince myself that finishing the three half done pairs would a good thing. The post season games are coming along soon, and hopefully there will be a WHOLE BIG BUNCH of Red Sox games to knit along with this October.

Good, Big Doings

2007-09-17T13:51:00.000-04:00

On a rain and sun speckled day this weekend, in the old granite quarried hills of central Vermont, my brother married his best friend. We were under a heated tent canopy, and young white birches, grapevine, and mums made that space feel like the woods in early fall. Bright paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Into their vows, my brother wove home, family, friendship, deep love and respect. It was a brief, but very moving ceremony.

Our family has increased exponentially. Not only is my brother a parent of a 5 and 8 year old now, but he has three brothers-in-law. And another set of parents. All of whom I enjoyed immensely this weekend. With our extended family and friends, we laughed and celebrated as long as we could stand it, and on Sunday, dragged ourselves home completely exhausted. A good day - right up there on my list of best days ever.

I sat on our porch at home late that afternoon, and tried to puzzle out the wedding jitters i seemed to have had all weekend. I adore my sister-in-law. She's fantastic. My brother is happy. They glow. So why was I so emotional and jumpy?

The Better Half came and sat with me in the sun, let me read some E.B. White essays to him. A very comforting sort, White. He is the author of "Stuart Little" and my all time favorite "Charlotte's Web". His essays are timeless and so down to earth. A bit of White and my brain began to make some sense of things again.

Of the three siblings in my family, I'm the oldest by four years. By the time my brother came along, I was ready for someone to boss around. And boy, did I. He was so good natured about it... which changed eventually, of course. He was such a sunny, affectionate little person. A dreamer and a doer. Always busy at one or the other, sometimes both at the same time. He's been through a lot. Relationships, Iraq, life in general. I admit to hovering sometimes, to offering my opinion when I think I'm entitled to do so. I fret over his emotional health, his self esteem, his happiness. But lately, I haven't been fretting. Not really at all. And I'm a natural fretter. New worries go into my brain as if it were a rock tumbler. A little tossing about with some grains of sand, and I've worn away all the sharp edges. I experience their new texture like some kind of zen meditation. It's how I adjust, prioritize, make sense of things. I haven't been pulling my brother's worry stones out at all lately. He's happy, he has people (and one sweet dog with a penchant for running away) to go home to every night, and to wake up to each morning. He feels loved and cared for.

As a pseudo-parent, this fretless view of my brother was a big adjustment for me. Oh sure, there's interesting stuff on the road ahead, but for a change, he is equipped with excellent traveling companions. You dream of all sorts of wonderful things for the people you love - and sometimes it feels like being a grown up means accepting that they may never actually happen, no matter how hard you wish. But I got this one, this wish and it's pretty amazing. No wonder I was all emotional. With this Very Good Thing that has happened between my brother and my sister-in-law, and the children, life has given me a big, fat thumbs up.

P.S.
I am a firm believer in family=pie. So, of course quiche was present at the post-wedding brunch for family. Family agreed, and both quiches disappeared. I attribute that not so much to my baking skills, but more to the fact that a buttery crust and bacon (yay fat content!) are an easy sell.

Summer of Socks Update

2007-09-07T11:49:00.000-04:00

Even though I've been really bad about blog posts for the Summer of Socks, I have been knitting! In fact, if I actually completed all the socks that hit my needles, instead of frogging them, I'd easily have twice the number I have now. Somehow, even with a clear idea and a gauge swatch, what you get isn't always what you wanted. Anyway! I have three completed pairs right now to show off.

First socks off the needles:

These are Cherry Tree Hill Supersock yarn in a special colorway from Simply Socks Yarn Co. I used the Baby Cable Rib pattern from Sensational Knitted Socks, casting on 56 stitches with 2.75mm needles. For these I used a plain stockinette heel flap, since they seemed busy enough already, without a heel pattern. They are extremely soft and comfy!

The second ones I finished are actually the first ones I cast on. These are Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in Icehouse, in the Cross Hatch Lace Pattern from More Sensational Knitted Socks. (Yes, I have both books and I love them.)

I used a short row heel on these, since I've got a pair of socks made from the same yarn that pooled in a questionable manner with a heel flap. They ended up being a little snug, but the pattern and yarn makes me very happy.

These next socks are sort of not really socks. They're footies, so I don't know if they will count towards my total number of socks knit. They only took one Red Sox game to knit, so if they don't count at least they didn't take a lot of time. They're made from Sereknity's Sock Options Sport Weight in her Rock Lobster colorway. This is the first time I've used her yarn, and I have to say, I love it! So soft, so squishy, so fast to knit up. I can't say enough about this yarn! Must have more!!!

These footies were knit as part of the Sox Knitters group on Ravelry. We decided to all knit red socks for the Red Sox during the games as our little way of helping them beat the Yankees. That sort of fell flat since they beat us, badly. But it was a nice idea and I love my socks.

I have two other pairs on the needles right now. Can't have just one! The first is just straight stockinette and the other is a simple rib pattern, so hopefully I can knit like a fiend for the next little bit and get them done!

PS to blogger - I'm so hating you and your stupid "dashboard"!!! Any weird formatting errors in this post are totally your fault, since you won't let me fix them! Auuuggghhh! Bad Blogger! Bad!

Warning...Rant Ahead

2007-08-29T09:36:00.000-04:00

There seems to be a lot of um…hostility...out in the knitting blogosphere these days. Apparently there are rules that must be followed as set out by some um…Knitters In Charge. I’ve been reading some blogs and visiting a forum that seems to have some issues that they need to deal with. I recently read a series of posts about what constitutes a “knitting blog.” Apparently you only qualify as a “knitting blog” if you offer free patterns, of your own design, for things that this person specifically wants. And NO PERSONAL CONTENT PLEASE. Personal content will make this person NEVER VISIT YOUR BLOG AGAIN! Can you imagine the horror of losing this person as a reader? How will all of us personal content writers survive? What will happen to our dreams of fame and fortune and the love of a good Knitter In Charge? Based on their criteria, I should immediately remove the word knitting from my blog title. I am not worthy of the word. Of course, that brings up a different problem. If it were simply called Gourmet Disasters, rather than Gourmet Knitting Disaster, will that upset the Gourmets In Charge? I don't want to have them on my case too, because then it would just be Disasters. I'm sure FEMA would soon find out and make me take that out too. In fact, maybe I should just quit blogging all together. I obviously don't know what I'm doing.

As well, there are certain words and phrases that must not be used, for fear of upsetting people who think these words and phrases are improperly used or possibly inflammatory. Words like “fiddly.” Apparently all the new knitters and want-to-be knitters who are reading what constitutes a true knitting blog are scared off when they see someone say that a pattern or technique is “fiddly.” They then feel that this must be something they could never do.

My first thought on reading this was that anyone who is deterred from something they want to do by a total stranger, well…then they either aren’t ready to do it, don’t want to do it, or shouldn’t be doing it anyway. In any event, it is not a universal responsibility of a writer and/or knitter to make sure everyone feels encouraged and included.

My second thought was that I have used that term, and I’m annoyed that this person thinks she knows what I meant when I said it. While doing a three color intarsia patterned sock with two circular needles, I said that it was fiddly, which it was. It was like knitting with an octopus. (Three balls of yarn and four needle points only add up to seven, but my octopus lost a leg in a tragic spinning accident years ago, so now I knit with a seven legged octopus.) My use of the word fiddly was no indication of whether or not I thought other people should try it. Maybe they are better knitters than I am and they would find intarsia to be a breeze. Maybe they couldn’t do it with all the encouragement in the world. It was not an indication of whether or not I was a total loser and just gave up because it was too hard, and in the process encouraged everyone else to stop trying it as well. (I didn’t. It’s making me crazy, but I’m still doing it.)

Anyone who knows me at all can attest to the fact that I do not follow direction well. I don’t like being told what to do. I like it less when total strangers feel the need to instruct anyone on how to conduct themselves in the knitting world. Part of what I love about talking with and meeting other knitters is the amazing diversity of people. Everyone comes from a different place and has taken up knitting for very different reasons. It is an artistic expression, much like writing is. Not everyone who knits has jumped on the bandwagon because they think it’s the cool thing to do, or because they plan to make their fortune designing knitting patterns, or because they want to be famous by writing their blog. Some of us just like writing and knitting. We should be able to do what we choose with our knitting and blogging without fear of censorship or flaming from people with nothing better to do. I’m far more put off by the behavior of a few individuals than I am by the average person who dares to use the wrong words or talk about their cats. If they want to make sure “everyone is encouraged and included” maybe they should look to themselves and their own comments first. And if I ever visit their blogs again, there had better not be any personal content.

Wedding Weekend

2007-08-09T09:08:00.000-04:00

Many of the people who read this blog were actually at this wedding, but it certainly deserves it's own post with some pictures. For those of you not there, the wedding was at the Lareau Farm Inn over in Vermont. For me it was more than a wedding, it was a reunion of people I have known as far back as the first grade. For those of you who know how old I am, that was a long time ago! Jessica and Joel I hadn't seen since the early 1990s!! Michael I hadn't seen since our sixth grade graduation!!!

First, Alex and Bobbi looking happy and relieved. Oh, and married. Don't they look married? I'm so happy for you both.

Kate and Steve looking awfully nice themselves...

And the reunited (if incomplete) Shrewsbury crowd, including from left to right:

Joel, me, Alex, Jess, and Michael.

The last time the five of us were in one place was in the sixth grade. Can you pick out who is who?

The whole weekend was really nice. Mark and I spent a few extra nights to celebrate our own anniversary, and many fine books and skeins of yarn were purchased. We managed to squeeze in a breakfast with Jessie and family before they headed out, and we met Steve and Kate for a great lunch in Burlington, and got to spend some time with them. Thanks to both of you for staying awake long enough to visit!

So, much fun was had by all, and I'm immeasurably glad that I was able to be a part of it. I did get a little melancholy driving home when we passed signs for the exit to Rutland. The six years I spent in Shrewsbury were some of the happiest I've had, and certainly the happiest of my childhood. I got a little sad thinking about the fact that these particular people will never be together in just this way again. People grow up and move on and have lives and stay in touch the best that they can, that's just the way it is. I'm just so glad I still have friends like all of you.

Decisions

2007-08-07T09:36:00.000-04:00

We’re home from Burlington (this deserves its own post, with photos, to come later), and the portion of my vacation to be spent at home has begun. The biggest problem for me with vacations is that usually by this point (only a few days in) I start to freak out about having “wasted” my days off and end up in a state of hysteria for the rest of the week. I have always done this, and it annoys M to no end. This time around, I’m not sure exactly how the rest of the week will go. I’m feeling more than the usual sick-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach thing than usual, because when I go back, our manager will be gone. She’s taken a job with another bank, closer to home. I don’t begrudge her this. I think anyone who willingly drives long distances to work when a closer option exists is crazy for many, many reasons. Anyway, back to me. Before going on vacation I did apply for the position because it seemed like the thing to do, even though I think I’ve been pretty clear about not wanting to do this job. I’ve posted about it before here, if you need a refresher. This is not the sort of place where you get promoted because you deserve it; you have to apply like everyone else off the street. Frankly, whether I want it or not seems sort of irrelevant because I feel like I should be offered this position since there is no one better able to take over. Hell, I’ve been doing her job and mine for two and a half years. My heart isn’t in it, though. I’ve felt for a few years that I really need to get out of banking. Don’t even get me started on how the PATRIOT ACT has ruined banking. Just don’t.

In any event, my interview did not go well. I really don’t like the two people who would become my immediate supervisors in this job, and I find it hard to refrain from telling them exactly what I think of them. It doesn’t pay to burn the bridges before you see where they go. Fortunately I only had to interview with her, but believe me, it was bad enough. I was asked all sorts of weird questions that left me wondering what the hell she was after. What do these questions mean? What does she think my answers say about me? I often feel like she thinks I’m a total moron, and most of what she says is clichés that sound as if they are straight out of Management 101. She makes me feel icky and manipulated. At least half of the hour and a half I spent with her was taken up listening to her talk about herself and how she does things. I was so wound up after I got home that I called my office and said I wasn’t coming in. I had already missed more than half the day, and my anxiety attack prevented me from finishing the rest. I was given an “assignment” for this vacation. I am supposed to write up a business plan as if this were my own business detailing exactly what I would do to generate new business and exactly what my marketing plan would look like. How am I supposed to know? I’ve never done marketing. My initial answer that I would meet with the marketing team and decide what to do was apparently not good enough. My comment that this would be a learning process for me and that they needed to either give me the job and let me try it or let’s all just move along was also not good enough.

I’ve given this a great deal of thought over the past few days, and I have decided to withdraw my application and let the chips fall where they may. This is not a job I want on any terms and I certainly don’t want it on hers. I don’t really care at this point what they think of me. I have no respect for them, so what do I have to lose there? If they hire someone from outside who makes my life a misery, well, it sort of already is. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want to get out of management and possibly banking all together, so if I have to leave, well, fine. I obviously need a fire under my ass to get me out of here and into something that I can at least marginally enjoy. I have also made it fairly clear that I would prefer to work out of our main office, which is so close that if I stand on our front porch I can see the parking lot. Sadly, after two and a half years, nothing has come up in that office that would be a good fit for me.

While I’m still feeling a little sick around the edges about all this, I’m also staring to feel a little better now that I have sort of made a decision. My family is behind me in this, and that makes me feel better too. Everyone knows that I would ultimately be unhappy, and we all know that the amount of money on offer is fairly small and would not make up for the soul-sucking horror that would be involved. Now I just need to try to put it to the back of my mind and enjoy the rest of my vacation.

Frogging

2007-07-30T14:50:00.000-04:00

...a knitting term. For backyard whiffle ball fans, the equivalent of a "do over". Frogging something means removing the work from the needles to pull out stitches until you reach a point before your mistake. You then put the work back on the needles and resume. Of course this means redoing rows of work, and paying attention to what went wrong and where. Or if you're like me - you guess at what might have gone wrong and frog to the last row you know you think you've done right and resume from there.

Can you use knitting terms for the office? Can I say that most of my job seems to involve frogging in one way or another? Our newly adopted software system has caused more frog like reworks and work-arounds than I really want to think about. I am often amazed at how functional the staff here manage to be when surrounded by so much process and policy chaos. Other terms come to mind that I'd like to apply... dropping a stitch, work and turn...

Today I learned that we have to "frog" sixty five appointment letters. The template we were originally told to use (and we did check!) was not the right one and was apparently overly complicated (pencil pusher speak for "needs too many signatures"). By all means, let us do it the hard way first... sixty. five. times. Let the boss sign his name to those sixty five letters, and we'll make copies to file, and pass along to the next person in the Please Sign Here list. THEN tell us that what actually should happen has fewer steps and is a more direct way to do things. When you call us to tell us this, beat around the bush and begin by saying that we sure do have a lot of letters for you to process, more than last year. Explain in detail how this adds to your workload. Slip in the mention of a new and "more appropriate" template. After twenty minutes of what you probably like to call process analysis, make sure you draw out the ominous and pregnant pause that follows my question "What you're saying is that we need to redo all of these letters". Acknowledge in a breezy, friendly way that it's a "big fat pain in the butt". Speak in a constructive manner about "working together and not against each other" while making it clear that the butt the big fat pain is in should actually be mine and not yours. Yes, thank you. Please frog yourself.

...and it continues.

2007-07-23T13:35:00.000-04:00

Tomato Update:

Surprise! The two year old nuisance downstairs has been hard at work. I had moved the tomato plants up to our upper level deck to try to keep them out of her sight, but she found them anyway. I had nine tomatoes out there, just waiting until they went all red and juicy on me. Now, there are three. Initially, because I had already talked to the landlord and the parents and had been most assuredly assured that she would never be allowed out of their sight and up our steps, I thought maybe it was raccoons or something, and there were only two missing at that point. Then the other day I went out and found two of them on the ground next to the pots with suspicious looking teeth marks. These weren't animal teeth. These were kid teeth. Like she had plucked it off and bit into it like an apple. She didn't like the first one, so she tried another. WTF?!?!?!?! So, I talked to the landlord again who couldn't believe that they were the type of parents who would let their kid out of their sight. I also talked to the parents who said they never let the kid out of their sight. So, apparently the problem here would seem to be me. Hah! Yesterday the mother was doing laundry in the basement with the door to the backyard open. I was in the kitchen, and saw the nuisance trekking across the backyard (alone, I might add) to try to open the next door neighbor's door. Mom starts yelling for her to come back. Next she heads up our steps to our deck, at which point I went outside and scared the crap out of her, sending her back down the stairs screaming. No, I did not touch this child. Maybe I'm just scary. In my opinion, letting this kid out of the apartment is a hazard to her because we're on a busy street with all sorts of riff-raff drivers, and to all of us as well. Don't tell me you never let her out of your sight, because that's obviously a bald-faced lie. Just to clarify things, when you are in the basement and your kid is outside - if you can't see her - she is out of your sight! I'm so angry about those tomatoes I could just spit.

In case that isn't enough to convince me that I'm right to never have children, there was just an interesting episode downstairs in their kitchen. I really don't try to be nosy, but if our windows and theirs are open, I'm at their mercy and hear everything. Now, I'm not above using what I hear in a blog post, but really, I didn't go looking for this. I was sitting at the kitchen table having a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch when I hear the mother start shrieking and wailing. "Oh, Emily, how could you!?!?!" Then the nuisance starts wailing because she's been yelled at. The incoherent wailing goes on and it becomes clear that the nuisance has drawn all over the kitchen table with permanent markers and ruined it. The mother goes on to say that she will not be getting any more permanent markers until she is five! Well, way to solve that problem, mom! You go! Ummmm...are you aware that fine companies like Crayola make washable markers? They're made just for two year olds who have no impulse control. You should really look in to that. Maybe I'll put some in their mailbox, you know, 'cause I'm nice like that.

Now, see, this is really bringing out the worst in me. I think I'll go knit some socks.

Summer of Socks Update

2007-07-12T09:22:00.000-04:00

With the cooler weather over the past week, I've made some progress on these socks. This one is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock in the Simply Sock Yarn special colorway. It doesn't really show up very well from a distance, but I'm working on a cross-over rib pattern.

This is where I'm currently at with the sock I originally started with. One sock completed, second one actually cast on! This is a major break through for me, since second sock syndrome is more of an epidemic around here. I have so much yarn waiting in the stash that I get distracted and want to immediately cast on another yarn and pattern. This is Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in the Icehouse colorway, knit in the Cross-Hatch Lace pattern from More SKS. I don't usually name my socks (mostly because there are so few completed pairs) but I'm calling this one "Jump in the Ocean" because of a comment from Kate. It seems to fit, as long as the ocean in question is somewhere tropical. It certainly doesn't describe the ocean around here!

Ravelry!!!!

2007-07-10T10:22:00.000-04:00

I finally got an invitation to Ravelry!!! Finally, I can feel like one of the cool kids! I've spent lots of time over there filling up my notebook, and I have to agree with everyone else that this is going to be a huge time sucker. If you're already on, come over and see! I'm slowly putting things in my notebook to share. I say slowly, because we're too cheap to have anything but dial-up service, but I really think that's going to have to change. I don't see anyway around it. If you aren't on already, definitely go put yourself on the beta testing wait list. I had to wait for over a month, because they're slowing trying to get this site up and running, but I have to say, I think it's going to be amazing! Anyone out there reading this already on Ravelry? I'd love to find some friends out there.

And So It Begins...

2007-07-06T10:08:00.000-04:00

We have lived in our current place for a year now. This has been the first time in six years that there hasn't been some unbearable issue with the other people in our building, and it's been wonderful. All that has ended now. A new reign of terror has begun.

We live in a duplex, and this has worked out pretty well. We weren't friends with the two girls who lived downstairs, but we were friendly and everyone seemed happy with it. We didn't bother them, they didn't bother us. Sadly, they moved out last weekend. The new tenants are a husband and wife and their two year old daughter. They just moved in yesterday, and already our life has been adversely affected by them. We are great respecters of space and property. We don't mess with anyone else's stuff. We expect the same in return. I don't have very much hope that this will be the case.

I'm not going to rant about the state of children today, or the parents who seem to bear no responsibility for their children. That's a page for another day. And as a preview, it would be a very long page. However, my thoughts about that do have some bearing here. The child in question is two, so I hold nothing against her. At that age, the parents should be the ones responsible for their behavior.

It starts out with the child running back and forth across the length of the building, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Then she gets out in to the communal hallway, runs screaming up the stairs to our front door and starts trying to open our door. I hear the mother telling her to be careful on the stairs. Not, "don't bother those nice people," just "be careful on the stairs." No, I have a better idea. Why don't you come get your shrieking kid and get her away from our door. The door opens directly into our living room, and silly us, we like a little peace and quiet in the evening.

Next, I hear someone on our back steps. It's the kid. These stairs run from the back yard up to our back door, where we have a private little deck. This is where my tomato plants and herbs are growing. It's private. It's ours. Not anymore. This child is out there completely alone, digging dirt out from the planters with the tomatoes. Who the hell lets a two year old run around alone in the backyard? Where the hell are her parents? This may sound extreme, but if anything happens to those f***ing tomatoes, I'm going to lose it. Seriously.

I'm trying to be understanding about all the noise related to moving, because I know that's difficult. But the moving truck sitting in the driveway beeping (you know, that obnoxious beeping that you get when backing up? They weren't backing up, they were just beeping) under our bedroom window at ten-thirty last night? Not cool.

They have apparently decided that they want the parking spaces we've been using for the past year. Now, I don't really care which side of the flipping driveway I'm on, but is there absolutely no courtesy anymore? Ask. That would have been polite.

They have decided to keep the communal front door locked when they are home, which appears to be all the time. How do people pay rent when they don't have jobs? I really would like to get on that train. I don't care about the front door except that the lock has no key. When I park on the street, I can't get in to my house anymore.

There are two storage areas in the basement. One for us, one for them. We don't have a lot of stuff, but it's there in a small, yet obvious pile in a corner. I went down this morning to find that they had piled ALL THEIR SHIT from floor to ceiling in our storage unit. I can't even see my stuff, let alone get to it. There isn't a speck of anything in their storage unit directly to the right. What kind of people do that? "Huh, someone else's stuff is here. Oh, well. Too bad."

I'm just at a loss. I don't know how other people can behave this way. I don't know how to talk to them about this with out starting an on-going feud. I just want a little respect from these people. Is that so wrong?

Speed Post

2007-07-02T15:27:00.000-04:00

I'm not making much progress on my socks for the Summer of Socks. This is as far as I have gotten on my first one, and I seem to have stalled a little bit. It was so hot last week that I was too cranky and tired to do much knitting when I was at home. Now, even though it is certainly cooler, I haven't picked it back up. I really love the pattern and the way the colors are coming out here, so lack of interest isn't a problem. There's just been so much going on. Summer is here, which means that every spare moment seems to have been planned a week in advance. We have such a short summer up here that it feels like we're wasting precious time if we're just sitting around. I need to learn to relax and stop feeling guilty if I want some time to lie around being lazy. Anyway, enough self analysis. Another reason I haven't been finishing this sock is the Design Contest. I have been scribbling notes for the last week or so with the hope that I can come up with a great pattern and win some of that great stuff over at SoS2007! I've tried three different ones so far, and they will all make perfectly nice socks, but they aren't everything I want them to be yet.

And just so you don't think this is all I do, here are a few outdoorsy/gardeny pictures. I know that the leaves in the background are in far better focus that the rest of the picture, but yes, those are teeny-tiny tomatoes! They're still alive! And blooming! Whoo-hoo!

And these...well, I can't take credit for planting them, but these are the roses that are spilling out over our steps. I can think of worse ways to start my day than walking past these.

A stitch in time

2007-07-01T19:07:00.000-04:00

I met an old roommate yesterday outside a home-junk chain store. We see each other now and again, but never have enough time to do more than laugh over a few memories. We laughed a LOT this time. So much so that eventually discussion of my hiking plans for Sunday and the location of her home (at the base of a mountain) was kismet.

It was a foggy day at the top of Mt. Abe, but the woods were beautiful. The rocky trails dripped greenly with moss and ferns, the air was clear and cool and wet. We spent only enough time at the summit to chug some water and toss some gorp into our mouths - it was too cold to hang out. Our descent was hard on the knees, but like the hike up, good for conversation. We talked about old friends and acquaintances, we caught up on the 16 years between that first year of college and our lives now.

We talked about work and relationships, about biking cross country and divorce. She admitted that she liked the feel of yarn in her hand, and lamented that she could not just hold it and will it into a sweater. Apparently a knitting friend has been working at her (a bit unsuccessfully). We both share the experience of learning crochet from our mothers while also being in tears over the learning process. If she likes to hold the yarn... it's only a matter of time...

We talked about an old dormmate, one Sean O'Flaherty Fahey who was, in his first year at school, quick with the sarcastic quip and smug smile. He was one of those folks who poked at our fresh college shells with sharp and sometimes painful wit. Often we snapped back in defense, sometimes we had good conversations. We wondered, during our hike, what had become of him. Google provides the answer - after three engineering degrees and a rich life of educating himself about the things he loved, he died surfing on a beach in California a winter ago. I was dumbstruck. The article in the California paper was quite well written - thoughtful and reflective about Sean as a person. I read it and felt I was experiencing statistics happening, both at the personal and objective level. These things happen to the people you know, and you might never learn about it. I'd been imagining Sean's life still in progress, full of quirks and quips as ever. I'm saddened that that is not the case.

I'm delighted that my roommate and I found each other again. While I needed ibuprofen and a hot shower after the hike, I enjoyed it immensely. My friend is simple and honest company, a woman with a large heart and an easy laugh. Maybe I'll teach her to knit, maybe not. We'll certainly be spending more time together, and I know I'll be able to talk with her about the strangeness of rediscovering old friends - those you can spend time with and those you can not.

Why I should still be on vacation

2007-06-22T14:47:00.000-04:00

I know it was only a long weekend. I know I blogged about it already. But I miss it. You'll just have to bear with me as I detail why.

I have no kitchen window in my apartment. One of the reasons I like to wash dishes is because I can look out the window and my hands will automatically do the work. It's a free moment for my brain to go where it needs to. The breeze blows in and carries the scent of whatever might be out there -water, wild roses, that dark piney smell I love. I've come to associate the feel of a dishtowel and soapy water with vacation because it's the only time I have the luxury of a window.

I like to wander around a quiet, half-awake house with a cup of coffee in my hands, absent mindedly dragging my book along too... whether I read it or not depends on the company, the quiet and how awake I am. Bare feet on cool morning floors at a vacation house - one of my favorite things.

Playing hard befriends good sleep. Dropping into bed without losing the feeling of being surrounded by water, my skin feels sand-scoured and sun-bleached like line dried laundry. The whole house is silent in a very peaceful way as everyone falls back into their bodies, heavy with sleep.

Eating around one big table together. "Please pass the..." punctuated by laughter and sibling teasing. The pauses where mouths are so full of good food that no one speaks for a moment or two.

This will sound like a lecture on yankee work ethic, but I was raised to earn my relaxation - so going to camp or "upta maine" meant that work was expected, should be sought out. Stacking wood, clearing brush, painting walls, sweeping floors... some kind of domestic labor has always helped me settle in and so relax even more. I don't know what to call it - vacation nesting? Something like that.

Being at home for these things (dishes, chores, morning, bedtime) is different. Chores and movement are all routine and too familiar. I don't notice doing them in quite the same way, overwhelmed by my day, or my environment. Vacation is a chance to step outside of that. I'm lucky to have homey places to retreat to where the familiar becomes invigorating, and even luckier to have friends and family to be with in these places who feel the same way.

And So The Summer of Socks Begins...

2007-06-21T09:12:00.000-04:00

Today is the first official day of the Summer of Socks 2007. I know that my non-knitting readers aren't going to be very impressed, but I'm looking forward to it. It runs for the next three months, and I'm going to try to actually make pairs of socks, not just singles. Having a short attention span means that I don't get a lot of complete sets finished. Maybe this sock-a-long will change that, since there are contests and prizes involved. What this means for you is that I will be posting pictures of my progress and all the little details that can only matter to a sock knitter. I cast on a toe-up sock this morning with Knit Picks Dancing sock yarn. I'm not wild about my colorway, but I wanted to try a cotton blend yarn for a change. If it doesn't look decent after I get a little way in to it, I'm going to use the Panda Wool I got on my visit to Burlington. Wish me luck!

Long weekend

2007-06-19T11:28:00.000-04:00

I'm back today after three days "on the Cape" with family and friends. We planned a work weekend to transition a grandparental cottage into a more family friendly abode. Other plans snuck their way in of course, as should happen when it comes to a long weekend near water.

We painted the living room. Fresh white walls make you realize it's time to wash the windows. We unearthed 50 or more bars of soap (hidden in the bathroom for some anticipated post-depression soap shortage) and many other hoarded treasures, we dusted, we dust-binned things, we stood back and surveyed our work.

I played on the beach, I collected too many rocks. I stared at water a lot. I lay belly down with my nose at the bow of the boat the whole way out to open ocean and back, absorbing as much salty wind and sunshine as I could. We made a sand castle and caught fish for the moat, just to watch it all disappear under water. Yesterday, I was able to lie on my back in the bay, and rock in the swells as the tide came in. Lovely. I've decided to be a sea otter when I grow up.

Wildlife abounded - a flicker yelled from the old TV antenna on the cottage, we freed a fat and greedy chipmunk from the bird feeder, and saw a huge pod of seals from the boat. Horseshoe crabs suffered the indignity of being picked up and ogled, hermit crabs tickled their way across our palms.

A home cooked lobster dinner was the capstone to our work and play, followed by a walk down to the bay to see a gold and pink streaked sunset at low tide.

After two days of beach time and an entire afternoon on a boat, I still haven't adjusted to solid ground. I almost hope I don't. Three days seemed like more after being cradled by water with the wind in my face. Much like I remember my childhood summers, with days that stretched out long enough to fit everything, and being deliciously tired when I hit the pillow.

P.S. Disaster averted by Alex who caught me fishing my bagel out of the toaster with a butter knife over the weekend. He asked me if I remembered the game "Operation". I did, and I also remembered being quite bad at it. I let him wrangle my bagel. Alex will make a good Dad - he was very calm, so as not to startle me and initiate electrical mayhem. We unearthed wooden toast tongs in the sugar jar (part of the secret code storage system devised by grandparents), and those sit quietly next to the toaster now - a reminder that I might not be as coordinated (or as lucky) as I hope I am when I pull something like that.

Everyone Say "Hi, Kathie..."

2007-06-14T08:55:00.000-04:00

Today I'd like to introduce you all to my good friend Kathie. She has recently decided to become one of us. Yes, she has decided to be a blogger.

Please stop by to visit her and say hi. I think you will find someone who is intelligent and witty, and I'm sure you will like her just as much as I do. I'm not sure what she's going to blog about, and really, she probably doesn't either. I would like her to give me a little explanation about her choice of blog title, though.

Portsmouth VS. Burlington

2007-06-12T08:38:00.000-04:00

I don't usually pay much attention to the newspaper (sorry, Alex, but its true), but this mornings Portsmouth Herald headline caught my eye. GRANITE VS. GREEN MOUNTAIN. Apparently there is a "friendly" competition going on between Portsmouth and Burlington for tourism supremacy. Very interesting...we have the ocean, you have a lake. If you take a look here you can find more information from the Burlington side of things, or here for the Portsmouth side. I say Portsmouth, but I'm a little biased.

More PIE please

2007-06-08T16:03:00.000-04:00

My new PIE cookbook, which I've posted about, still has not left my living room, where it resides as deliciously fascinating reading material. This has got to be the summer of pie... not only did I get to have Heather's key lime (with the best crumb crust I've ever had), but I bought that cookbook, read a history book on the American kitchen, and just saw a pie oriented movie.

I've been reading Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America. If you grocery shop, if you have ever eaten home cooking, been a home cook, hate to cook, regularly visit a grocery store, or ever watched Julia Child on television, you'll want to read bits of this book out loud to everyone around you. Okay, I wanted to, maybe you're more polite than that. For example, lima bean sticks. Gross yes, but intriguing right? The author's style is amazingly readable and conversational, taking you directly into America's kitchens - often on the back of the food marketing industry or cooking personalities. You get a sense of the women themselves in their earnest and direct letters to magazines and newspapers. It will change the way you see food marketing (for a whole week, I felt like the products in the grocery store needed to just pipe down). It may give you hope in this nation of fast food. It will cause you to fondly recall the remnants of a 50's kitchen as they existed (or exist) in your own life. I was heartened to read that cakes and pies at the time fell under the realm of personal touch, not appropriate for box mix conversion. I am not a cake baker, but the thump of a rolling pin on a wooden board soothes my soul, and a pie never fails to impress (even if you bought the crust!).

No sooner did I finish this book, than a coworker recommended the movie Waitress. It is not a cute little movie - it's a damn good story instead, with just the right sweet and tart sentiments. The pies are wild, the characters are sometimes wilder, and none of it is predictable in the usual sugary way of romances. The women are strong and independent, life is unfair, and being a baking whiz in the kitchen does not mean you are the mother of all mankind. Just a great movie - two days later, I'm still playing it over in my head.

While we were at the movie, Alex call and left a message that was along the lines of "come and get the rhubarb from my garden right now!". And rhubarb really only has two uses - mixed w/ sweeter fruit for a pie, or blended into sauce to pour over vanilla ice cream.

Mmm, summer of pie...

Jennifer Rocks...(and the knitting isn't half bad either)

2007-06-08T08:40:00.000-04:00

So, M has a friend from his college days that he's still in touch with, Jennifer. Now, I've never met Jennifer, since she lives in New York, but she recently did something nice for me. She has access to some books. Lots of books, apparently. Knitting books, to be specific. So, I came home one day recently to find that she had sent me some books! Four wonderful knitting books that I had been eyeing in the book store, but wasn't sure if I should buy them. I've spent the past few weeks browsing through them, thinking of all the nice things I could knit if I just had the time. I decided the other day to put the sock knitting on hold for a bit, since I'm waiting for the Summer of Socks KAL to start on the 21st, and I want the socks I have planned to count towards that. I went back to one of the books to look for a quick project and I found this:

It's a neckwarmer. I'm going to give it to my mom, since she's always about ten degrees colder than the rest of the world. It's made from a super soft blend of wool, cashmere and micro-fiber, and my lovely and talented assistant Trish, shown here modeling it, assures me that it is not itchy at all.

The whole thing only took about and hour and a half. This book may have solved my yearly dilemma about quick knitted Christmas gifts. I have a small mountain of this yarn that I bought a few years ago with the intention of knitting a sweater. I recently realized that I have enough of this yarn to make at least two sweaters. Every one I know may end up with one of these this year. So, thanks, Jennifer! That was a really nice thing.

Benny Nolan

2007-06-06T08:46:00.001-04:00

Benny died this weekend. He was more than just a friend of the family, he was family. He and my father knew each other in high school, and Benny married my Aunt Karen’s friend Mary. Benny and Mary moved from New York to Vancouver, British Columbia in 1968. After my parents got married, they moved out there and shared an apartment with them. I was born in Vancouver, so Benny and Mary were the first people I ever knew, other than my parents. He had cancer for the last few years, but in the end, that wasn’t what killed him. They think that he had a pulmonary embolism, so in time we’ll probably be glad that he didn’t have to die from his cancer. Maybe later.

Benny and Mary stayed on in Vancouver, so we didn’t see much of them unless they came back to visit their families. They would often come to stay with us when they were back in the States. They seemed slightly exotic to me, coming from another country. Benny is the person who really gave me my “Canadian-ness”. He may have lived in Canada, but I was born there, and that was special. He said that made me more Canadian than he was. I remember that he gave me a little Canadian flag when I was probably in the third or fourth grade. He knew that I didn’t have one, and felt I needed one, because that was my country after all, and I should be proud of it. It was important to him, so it became important to me. It made me different. It made me special. What child doesn’t want something that makes them different and special? Every so often, I would get some little thing from them that was from Canada. Sometimes things with the red Maple Leaf symbol. After I got a little older, I discovered ice hockey, which really pleased Benny. I started getting things with the Vancouver Canucks logo, because of course you’re going to follow the team from where you were born. Whenever I did see him, we would talk a little hockey and commiserate on the state of our favorite teams and the NHL in general. He said that he had seen one of those huge Canadian flags outside of a fast food restaurant, and he said he wanted to get it for me. I think his intention was to take that particular one without permission, but I won’t say for sure. He thought I could use it as a bedspread, but in reality, it probably would have covered our house, not just my bed. In the end, it’s probably better that he didn’t “get” one of those flags. I rarely look at a Canadian flag without thinking of him. I never watch the Vancouver Canucks play without thinking of him.

I got the chance to visit with them earlier this spring, when they came out to visit my parents, and I’m very glad that I had that opportunity. We knew he was sick, but he was still himself, and seemed pretty good. I was glad that they got the chance to meet Mark, and even though it was brief, I’m glad Mark got to meet them too. Benny and I were standing next to each other after lunch, and he nodded over at Mark and said to me “You’ll keep this one, eh?” The fact that Benny liked him meant a great deal to me. When we had to say goodbye, it was just like any other time, with us saying we’d continue our talk about hockey the next time we saw each other. I said I would try to come out to visit someday, like I always said. It wasn’t a sad goodbye, and I’m glad for that.

I can’t claim to know him in the same way that my parents did, but I still felt he was my family. He was at least a little bit responsible for the person I am today. I can understand what my Dad meant when he said he wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of a world that didn’t have Benny in it.

Cross Hatch Lace Socks

2007-06-04T08:56:00.001-04:00

I finished the first sock in the cross hatch lace pattern, from Charlene Schurch's More Sensational Knitted Socks book. This book may be the best book ever for sock knitters, because the options are limitless. You can choose any pattern, toe up or cuff down, use double pointed needles (bad) or circulars (good), use any type of heel you like, and any type of toe you like. This was my first attempt at knitting socks toe up, and except for the provisional cast on, I liked it very much. My provisional cast on was really anything but provisional, even though I thought I was following the directions. I used a short-row heel for the first time as well, and it turned out much better than I thought it would. I really liked the pattern, and found it very easy to remember while it knits up a really stunning pattern. Pretty enough that M thought it was nice, and having seen so many socks, he can be hard to impress.

Godzilla liked them too.

He liked them so much, that he took them.

What I Did On My Spring Vacation

2007-06-01T11:20:00.000-04:00

Along with doing many fine and fun things last week, I also took care of some stash-keeping issues. If you ask me, I really don't think I have too much yarn, but I do like to have it all where I can see it. How else will I know what I should use next? Free range yarn is happy yarn, right? M doesn't seem to think that keeping the sock yarn out on the couch (couch, floor, coffee table, bookcase...) can be considered "storage", so I went and got myself a couple of these things...drawers on wheels. Brilliant!

This one holds the sock yarn stash. I'm going to need a second one for the sock yarn since this one is already filled to capacity and the skeins tell me they are feeling a little cramped.

In fact, here's some of that sock yarn. See the blue and purple one up in the corner? That's from my trip to Burlington.

I spent some time working on the sock yarn blanket that I totally stole from Shelly Kang. I started it by telling myself that it would be a great way to use up leftover sock yarn. Really, what it has done is get me to buy more sock yarn, because I don't have enough leftovers. Hey, I need that yarn. Stop looking at me like that.

This is what the Insufferable Horror did on vacation last week. Secure in the knowledge that someone was home to keep him fed. Isn't there some quotation about sleeping the sleep of the just? This completely blows that theory out of the water.

Yarn reality frustrations

2007-05-31T16:51:00.000-04:00

I have a lovely book (bought on clearance even!) for very simple but classy sweaters. I have lovely yarn, in great colors, waiting to be used on the right pattern. I blissed out for a few days, thinking that the combination of yarn and pattern would not only whittle down the stash, but would knit up quickly and look fabulous on me! Reality hit when I started a swatch.

Patterns always tell you to check your gauge. Knitters always tell you to check your gauge. My mother tells me to check my gauge. I've already posted about a sweater disaster that was the result of not doing what I'm told. But I just have grouse a bit about this...

The yarn and the pattern I've selected never seem to match. Never. I've fiddled with needle sizes, I've been careful to buy a yarn similar to the one suggested in the pattern, my stitches are neither too loose nor too tight. I think it's a plot to get me to buy more yarn than I already have stashed. If nothing else works, I'll go out and buy the exact yarn used in the pattern, right? Grr.

I'm sure someone with more experience could calmly explain that I am missing something important that just makes it all work out okay. Or maybe they can't and I just have bad gauge luck. After the brown disaster sweater, I'm not ready to hop into another large project without being absolutely sure of myself.

I'll try once more (with one more needle size) to work out this white mohair boatneck that i'd love to wear this summer. If I get too frustrated, I'll go back to felting. It's only a little unpredictable (I don't felt swatches, and different colors can shrink differently), and it hides a myriad of little oopses. Just my style.

My stoop

2007-05-23T14:54:00.001-04:00

I know I complain about my bad neighbors, late night drunken party traffic and a serious lack of lawn. But when we move from this apartment, I can honestly say I will miss our front stoop. The paint is chipping, the steps are warped, and it offers a limited view up the walkway of a street light, some chain link fence, and pavement.

It does have a roof, which can make it a nice place from which to watch and listen to rain and thunderstorms. At night, you can sit in relative darkness and watch the world go about its quiet way... dog walking, couples holding hands, evening runners. You can usually see the Big Dipper from the stoop, and sometimes Orion's Belt. Time moves a bit more slowly when you're perched on the steps out front.

I sit there for lunch, often in the sun which beats down on the steps spring through fall. Today I ate almost an entire container of the sweetest grape tomatoes while reading a cold war spy novel - it's summer on the stoop alright. I closed my eyes in the sun, heard a lazy bumble buzzing around the garden, smelled flowering trees on our street. The steps themselves smell of summer - worn, dry wood and the hot metal of the nailheads - a dusty, metallic smell. I knew they'd be warm enough to burn my bare feet a bit when I finally went into the house. I shook my iced tea glass, just to hear the ice clink and settle. Time moves very slowly on the stoop. I'm going back there after work.

Don't boss me

2007-05-21T16:59:00.000-04:00

I am a big fan of the phrase "you're not the boss of me!". Used by my father so many years ago (not without some consequences, I'm sure), it is a family favorite. I say it to my Better Half, I say it to my friends, the weather... I even say it to myself!

Sometimes though... sometimes it's good to have a boss. My boss for the last five years began as an interim boss. Things did not work out well, and he continued to fill in until the "interim" was dropped. But he's done at the end of June... and the search to fill the position has failed (again). So... no Boss.

No Boss, no plan for how to tackle next year. I won't have a summer to bring someone up to speed on our operating budget, the interesting patchwork of funding that keeps us afloat and keeps our 25-30 full time folks paid. A plan for equipment and technology replacement? Nope. A leader's input and implementation assistance with a new model of program budget management? Nope. Staff needs? Huh-uh. I promised my staff we'd have a planning retreat when the new Boss was hired. I still owe them a retreat, but I feel horrible that that time will be spent on more "surviving in leadership limbo" conversations. I love my coworkers - we could do great things together. We already do, but it could be better and more rewarding. How do you operate in a hierarchical system when one of the crucial pieces is missing?

I'm tired of getting no supervision, and not being able to implement long term plans. I think I'm experiencing a form of atrophy because I'm unable to provide a Boss with the benefit of my experience. And there's not a darn thing I can do about it.

I've got to go. When I turn off this computer, I'm going to take my kitchen store gift certificate and spend it on something completely impractical. Retail therapy might not make me feel better, but I'm willing to take a crack at it. And then I'm going to go home and have some wine and whine a bit to the Better Half. He will be sympathetic, he always is. He will remind me that the upcoming Memorial Day makes a long weekend, and that life is not just work. And then he'll do something good (like the laundry), hug me, and I'll be able to be satisfied with the status quo for just a bit longer.

Burlington Update

2007-05-21T14:47:00.000-04:00

Okay, I got some sleep, and I'm a little bit more like my normal self.

Burlington was fun, and it was really wonderful to see everyone again. It had been way too long since Alex and I had seen each other, and I hope it isn't that long 'til I see him again. And Alex? Of course I'd come again! I apologize again for my hasty departure, and my lack of energy. By the time I left, my wheels had fallen off (ask Mark about that some day) and I just needed to get on the road. And a loooong road it was. It didn't seem that long on the way over...

Unfortunately, we will have to wait and see if Steve got any pictures over the weekend, because I left my camera battery at home in the charger. I can't go anywhere without forgetting one crucial part of my plan.

Got to see Lake Champlain, which I haven't seen in nine years. It's such a beautiful place. We went to a few bookstores, and that second used bookstore we went to? The huge one? What's that called? I think that that place alone will convince Mark to come with me next time. I could lose him in there for days. We had lots of good food, including Alex's excellent Sh*t waffles. Oh, Alex? The Poke Method of testing done-ness in a steak is actually a legitimate method, as you can read here. And even though for some reason every yarn store in Vermont is closed on Sunday, Kate and Steve came through in the end, and took me to the local Ben Franklin, which by the way, is nothing like our crappy one. They had a really great and unexpected yarn selection. I ended up buying more Cherry Tree Hill Yarn, and some Crystal Palace Panda Wool.

All in all, it was worth the trip, and I'm so glad I went. Thank you all again!

Home

2007-05-21T07:17:00.000-04:00

I made it home alive. I got home about a quarter to eight, and I was asleep not long after. I have to say that the next time I make that trip, it should be for at the very least one day longer. All that driving is pretty tough for an over-nighter. Thank you all so much for your hospitality, and I apologize for not being a little more lively. Like I said all that driving...

I'm going back to bed, 'cause I'm on vacation and I can do that. More later...

Lack of Knitting Posts

2007-05-18T14:44:00.000-04:00

I haven't posted much about knitting lately. I really should, since it's in the title. (This may not make some of my non-knitting friends and readers happy, but as soon as they accept that it's all about me, everything will be fine.) It's not because I'm not knitting, because I am. I'm just too lazy to take pictures and post them. I'm on vacation next week, so maybe I can come up with an FO or two. Right now I'm making boring old stockinette socks in anything but boring Lorna's Laces Black Pearl. I didn't think the Lorna's Laces yarn would knit up into anything I would like, but it surprised me and is knitting into a beautiful fabric. Sometimes I just need to knit something without a pattern. Now is one of those times. I'm also copying a few other people in blogland who have made or are making afghans out of mitered squares of sock yarn. I have no time table for this, since I have a limited supply of extra sock yarn and a limited budget to buy more sock yarn, so I suspect this will be a loooooong project. I'm heading over to Burlington in the morning, so there might be some new yarn when I get back. Maybe some travelling knitting pictures too. See you soon!

...speed update...

2007-05-17T17:46:00.000-04:00

Kate's world on high speed summary (if that's at all possible for her). Pictures to follow later.

Before: Better Half with a moustache and beard (as I met him) / After: Better Half with a naked face. Week-long freakout when I see a stranger in my house wearing my husband's clothes.

Before: Another summer with cute 'n sassy chipmunk, answers to the name Pimpmunk, highly entertaining to entire apartment building / After: Smear on the driveway next door. Immortalized in my flower garden by the upstairs neighbors. Broken pottery shard headstone says RIP Pimpmunk.

Before: Reasonably tidy house / After: Warm weather and cold weather clothes half packed and unpacked (and strewn everywhere) because the stupid weather won't make up its mind.

Before: Sharp sticks and scraps of wool / After: Felted chicken that fits in my hand. It's wee, and I knit it with nary a pattern!

Before: Seemingly endless days of bachelor living with cats / Soon to come: Kate and Heather together at Alex's house. Bwaa haa haaaaaa.

My Crazy, Pedalling Cross Country for A Good Cause Neighbor

2007-05-08T16:44:00.000-04:00

On Wednesday, our neighbor Pete is embarking on a cross country bike trip to raise money for Project Chicken in Nicaragua - a program that provides rural families with food and income. His non-profit organization is called Wheels for Change, and he is part of a two man bicycling adventure to raise funds and awareness in support of this branch of Partnerships in Health.

Taking a northern route from Ocean Park, Maine to Seattle, Washington the guys expect 40 or so days of fun filled pedalling. I'll be checking their website for photos and updates, as they adjust to over a month of greeting the same bike seat every day, spending so much quality time together, camping, limited bathing, granola bars and ramen noodles, and relying on the kindness of others.

Best of luck and swift wheels!

Unlucky But Not Stupid

2007-05-07T09:37:00.000-04:00

Once again, I have to say I'm so glad I'm a little accident prone rather than just stupid. I had two shining examples of stupidity before nine o'clock this morning here at the bank. First was a young lady who came to the drive up window before we were open. Have you seen those shades that banks have that slide down over the drive up windows that say CLOSED? We have one of those, and it was down...because we were closed. She pulled up to the closed drive up window and starts honking her horn. It was really early, but I decided that it would be better to talk to her than to let her sit out there leaning on the horn. She was busy on her cell phone, so she just kept honking, not looking over to see if anyone was there. When she finally realized that I had opened the screen and had spoken to her, she said, "I need a pen." Okay, frantic honking at a closed bank for a pen? Seemed a little extreme. I gave her the pen and waited for her to finish her phone call and rummage around in her purse for her license and a check. She finally threw all this stuff in the drawer and I took a look at what she had. What she had was a check from another bank and what she didn't have was an account with us. I told her that she needed to take it to the other bank, which is right up the street She sat there, completely puzzled by what I told her. "Well, what bank is this?" I said, "This is Bank A, you need to go to Bank B." I even told her where it was. "This isn't Bank B?" No, it isn't. And yes, I'm positive that it isn't. More puzzled looks. Finally she took the check out of the drawer and sped off.

A few minutes later, another car came to the drive up. This one was going the wrong way, coming in through the exit and pulling into the farthest lane from the bank. This young lady started yelling at the drive up window and waving her arms at me. She's farther away than the first, so I couldn't really hear what she was saying. Finally I figure out that she's screaming "ATM! WHERE'S THE ATM?" I yell back that she needed to "get out of the drive up and go around the building to the ATM." And by the way, "you're going the wrong way!" This was accompanied by arm motions suggesting which way she needed to be going. She couldn't understand me since she was too far away and her radio was on full blast, so I repeated myself a little louder. She still didn't understand, gave me a disgusted look and spun out her tires driving away while signalling that she thinks "We're Number One." She was still going the wrong way, and almost hit another car coming around the corner.

If this is any indication of how my day is going to go, I'm going to wish I had stayed in bed.

GKD Portsmouth Recap

2007-05-03T08:43:00.000-04:00

Nothing bad happened! There were a few minor disappointments, but no disasters. My first disappointment was learning that they no longer had McEwan's on tap. I had pretty much planned my night around that for a week and a half. I recovered nicely with another selection, though. Other than that, I'll be the first to say that the food was not that great. We hadn't been there in a couple of years, but the Coat of Arms has been in business for ages and had always been decent. Oh, well, things do change.

Seeing Kate and Steve was really nice. For the information of any newbies, Kate and I had never actually met until now. On our way over I commented to M that it felt a little like a blind date. Would we like each other? Would it be awkward with nothing to talk about? I guess I shouldn't have worried, since there weren't too many gaps in the conversation. Kate and I seemed like long lost sisters from our earliest web meeting, and it was fun to finally see her in person.

GKD Portsmouth Style

2007-05-02T08:57:00.000-04:00

It's nine o'clock in the morning. Target has been open in all its embarrassingly covetable consumer glory for an hour. The only reason I mention this is because I'm thinking that Kate and Steve may be on their way to the Seacoast via Target by now. When they return from their mini-vacation, I will let her tell you about it, but I wanted to warn everyone that they should be very careful this evening because Kate and I will be in the same room. As another interesting note, the moon was full this morning. I've found through the years that the twenty-four to forty-eight hours or so on either side of a full moon can be positively insane. So, double whammy coming up tonight! Full moon madness and GKD at the same time. I apologize in advance for any small explosions or accidents after six-thirty.

Crafting a Life

2007-05-01T17:16:00.000-04:00

It's all about balance. Sometimes we get so caught up in the balancing act itself (don't drop anything, don't fall over, suck in your tum while you balance on one foot so you look good), that we forget why we're doing it in the first place.

A phrase popped into my head the other day as Heather and I were emailing to and fro. Our emails aren't really back and forth because that gets you nowhere and our thoughts aren't tennis balls. "To and fro" because sometimes that type of movement actually gets you someplace. Not quickly mind you... but you disengage from the motion itself, look up after pacing (or tacking if you're a sailor) and you're someplace a bit different. At any rate, the phrase was "crafting a life". I want to. I've said it before and it was a hopeful, rebellious chant between my brain and heart. But I've neglected it a bit, or cocooned it, waiting for some perfect hatching moment. Which is silly, because I make the hatching moment.

Back to balance. When I feel like I'm going to tip over, I get an urge to retreat to a place designed just for that - tipping over and starting fresh. Sometimes that's as simple as taking a friend's advice to go forth and drink maple beer, buying plants for my garden, or going out for a good breakfast where waaaay too much coffee is involved. But there are days... weeks... when it feels like it's going to take a heck of a lot more than that. I start to think about what I want my life to be, what influences the person I decide to be each day. I realize how the little daily details of life distract me from really being hands-on about where I'm headed.

I'm no over achiever, no superwoman, I just want to be me. I want to do things I like, to have a say in what "work" is for me. For most of us, work is 9 to 5, and our lives happen in the off hours. I would love for that to change, for an overlap to happen where the words "work" and "life" are not antonyms. Maybe throw in the word "fun" and see what kind of brouhaha ensues. The word "craft" implies skill and handwork, a know-how obtained with practice and study... and a unique and artful product. I would like to have a life I've crafted.

It probably means maintaining the balancing act I've become used to for a bit until I can figure out a new one. Not easier, but more rewarding in the long run. I've thought about it a lot lately, and I'm under no rosey glassed assumption that this idealistic goal of mine will be easy. My hatching moment will be cobbled together from friend's scraps of wit, shared moments of enlightenment, a collection of kicks in the pants, frustration, what-ifs, leaps of faith, and support from countless kind people. And when I say cobbled together I mean a jumbled mass of work that's held together with who-knows-what... but still a unique and artful product.

Kaitie

2007-05-01T14:16:00.000-04:00

Kaitie has apparently become a grown-up. At least grown-up enough to be having a European adventure with a cute guy. Most of you won't know who Kaitie is, so I'll give you brief synopsis. I've known Kaitie since she was very small. Small enough to still have a car seat in the back of her mom's car. Her mom, Kathie, is one of my closest friends. It was bad enough when she started to grow up, hard to believe when she got her driver's license, and unimaginable when she graduated from high school. Now she's leaving next week to wander around Europe with no real idea of what she's going to do or when she's going to come back. I'm half excited for her and half terrified to be honest.

Just in case anyone wants to see where she is and what she's doing, I have a link to her journal page over there on the side by Alex.

Safe travels, Kait, and have the best possible time.

Disaster of the Day

2007-04-23T11:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, this isn't really my disaster. Well, it is. It happened to me, but it wasn't caused by me.

When I have time in the morning on my way to work I stop for coffee. I always go to the same place, primarily because of Mac. He is the older gentleman who mans the coffee station. That doesn't require much, so he's primarily there to talk to people. He keeps me informed about any local politics or issues I need to know about and I can always get the final score from the game last night. It's an important part of my morning and I don't tend to get my coffee anywhere else.

There is one small thing that makes my morning coffee experience a little trying. There is a person on the cash register who has no business being anywhere near it. I don't think I ever see her without something needing to be voided. The other day I had to convince her that no matter what the magic computer said, I did not in fact owe her $17.07 for a coffee and the newspaper. It's good coffee, but not that good. She is always completely convinced that she is right and I am wrong, making it necessary for the owner to come out of the back to fix it. They have a new tool that should help things a little. It's one of those scanners that reads the bar code on your item. Coffee is not one of the things that can be scanned, they just key in $1.09 and I give them money. She doesn't understand this at all. This morning she picked up my coffee and looked for the bar code to scan. When she didn't find it she turned the coffee upside down to look for it. I think you can guess what happened next. The cover came off, and coffee went everywhere. On the counter, on the floor, on her, on me, on the pile of newspapers on the counter, on the magic computer. Everywhere. She put the cup down and asked me for the $1.09 as if nothing had happened. I handed her the exact change (it really isn't worth trying to get money back from her) and then I went back to Mac who gave me paper towels to clean myself up, while he went up front to swab the decks. I poured myself a new cup of coffee, thanked Mac, and headed out. Until I hear the register girl screaming at me for walking out without paying for my coffee. She actually thought I should pay for the second coffee. I just shook my head at Mac and kept walking. I'd be afraid to go back in there tomorrow just in case she attacks me, but I'm guessing that she won't remember me at all.

LOA

2007-04-21T11:40:00.000-04:00

Ahhhh...spring! Finally! I think. I mean, I hope this is spring. Is it? It's warm and sunny. How can you tell when spring has finally arrived?

There is one sure way to tell when spring is here. Spring brings out a certain male of the species known as the Loud Overcompensating A**. You can often spot them by their plumage, usually a sportscar, a large SUV or occasionally a motorcycle. No matter what outer plumage is chosen, the LOAs will have many things in common, starting with the amplified muffler. This is so females of the species can hear them coming from great distances. The female can then attempt to flee, but often the LOA is driving so fast that they can easily overtake her. Another way to know if this might be an LOA is by their mating call. This call can take many forms, but there will always be an undertone of bass that is capable of rattling windows from three blocks away. This may be done in an effort to stun the female of the species, rendering her helpless against their advances. When an LOA is without their noisy plumage, they can often be found in driveways and on porches, roofs and steps. In this environment you will often see beer bottles, frisbees, radios and lawn chairs. Don't be fooled, these are still LOAs. They will often be heard singing loudly and off-key to Bob Marley songs. (I have nothing against Bob Marley - in fact I'm quite disgusted in the treatment he receives from the LOA).

No matter what environment you find and LOA in, don't be alarmed. They are simply trying to distract you from the fact that they have extremely small brains (some say their brains are roughly the size of a walnut) and even smaller d**ks.

Plans

2007-04-17T10:03:00.000-04:00

I think that I should not make plans anymore. For anything. Whenever I do, it doesn't seem to work out. This will be extremely difficult for me to do, because I am a complete control freak.

My father and I have discussed my tendencies to control things, and we think we have traced it back to an incident when I was very young. At the time, my family was living in Los Angeles, near MacArthur Park. My parents decided to move back to Boston so my father could go back to school at Boston University. Obviously since I was only two years old, my opinion was not solicited. They packed our most necessary belongings into their Volkswagen Beetle, and had arranged for the furniture to be shipped. The only thing left was my crib, which I was sleeping in. Apparently I woke up and climbed out of bed and wandered into the empty living room. Every thing was gone. Nothing was left- no furniture, no parents, nothing. My father came back upstairs from the car to find me sitting on the floor crying, apparently thinking every one had left me. I say apparently, because the only thing I really remember about LA was the window in my bedroom closet, where I would sit and play and talk to the pigeons outside on the window ledge. I may not remember this particular incident, but according to my mother, from that point on I needed advanced notice for everything or I would freak out. She would come and tell me things like "We're going to go to the park in a while. When you're ready, come get your coat." When I had accepted the idea of leaving the house, I would bring her my coat and we would go out to the park. Any plans that we made that were cancelled could also cause me to panic.

I have made great strides since then, and I am able to come and go from our house freely, but some things just never change. Whenever plans are made, I analyze them to the last detail. I hate surprises. You can imagine my disappointment this past weekend when I had to make a decision about whether to go to Burlington for a GKD weekend fiesta. The weather was supposed to be bad, and one thing I cannot control is the weather. So, all our plans for buying Vermont yarn, looking at pictures of Alex when he was ten, reminiscing about silly things we did as kids, eating pie and having a few drinks were scrapped. I didn't freak out, but I am told I was a bit of a bear to have around the house for the weekend. M took me down to Salem, NH for some good old-fashioned shopping, which made me feel a little better, at least until I added up exactly how much I spent. I did get some Vermont yarn, in the end. Two skeins of Cherry Tree Hill Sock yarn, from Barton, Vermont. Very pretty, but a small consolation.

Maybe I shouldn't plan it again. Maybe I should just get in the car and show up in Burlington some weekend. No, that would take all the fun out of planning it...

Pee Eye Ee

2007-04-16T15:01:00.000-04:00

I bought another cookbook. Various and sundry social plans had been scrubbed by one thing or another during the week, and I was feeling sorry for myself. In an attempt to offset grouchiness, we traipsed downtown for maple beers (one sign of spring around here, even if nothing else seems in synch), a good burger and a stop at the bookstore.

We wandered, not so aimlessly... magazines, fiction, stuff on sale, craft inspiring reads... ah, cookbooks. If I close my eyes in that aisle, and take a deep breath, I can almost smell the test kitchens. Just like (most of) the food that they help bring into being, cookbooks soothe my soul. This one said PIE in big letters on it's big, fat, thick spine. I like to eat pie, but I also really like to make pie. Bless you Ken Haedrich, for this book. I will spend as much time reading it as I will trying out the recipes. So many recipes! Presented in a way that makes the art of pie accessible to anyone with a hankering to make one.

Mmm. Pie...

Spring Eats

2007-04-10T12:02:00.000-04:00

It's springtime in New England (or so they tell us - don't look out the window), and my thoughts turn to seasonal goodies. Not just chocolate bunnies and jellybeans, but the earthier stuff... asparagus, fiddle heads, rhubarb. Grilling season quickly trumps these foods for me, so I'm reminding myself to relish them this year.

Asparagus is at my grocery store year-round these days, which makes me a bit sad. I miss the days when the appearance of those green spears in the produce aisle were a herald of spring along with the first robin. When asked why I ate things at my grandmother's table that I wouldn't eat at home, I swore to my mother that the asparagus from my grandparent's garden tasted better. I don't think she believed me, and why would she? I'm the child that told her I was too full to finish my dinner, but my ability to eat sweets was not impaired because my "dessert stomach" was not full.

I like to cook asparagus with salt, butter and lemon. I chop any leftovers to stir into potato salad with chives and dill. Everything's better with cream or butter in it, and I think dairy and asparagus compliment each other nicely. I mix the spears with grated asiago cheese and marscapone, in a buttered casserole dish. Some bread crumbs (I like panko for its crunch and lightness), pine nuts and a bit more cheese on top and baked until heated through - heaven. You can also cook the tenderest part of the spears in butter and white wine, puree, and reheat (adding cream to taste of course). It looks healthy and springy, but is rich and creamy like soup should be during mud season.

Fiddleheads are good in a foil packet with butter, salt and pepper, tossed on the grill to steam. Don't tell my mother I eat local greens (some of them right out of the woods!) now. I gave her so much grief as a kid when it came to vegetables.

Oh that I could match my grandmother's rhubarb pie. There's a trick to solving the pie soup problem (gelatin, tapioca or flour), but I've not mastered it. Rhubarb sauce over vanilla ice cream is all I can manage, and it's pretty good. The sweet tart smell of cooking rhubarb reminds me of late afternoon sit-down dinners with my grandparents, and the flower patterned tea cups for coffee that were set out next to dessert. Being a "grownup" brought about two changes in my life - I got a cup and saucer of my own at my grandmother's table, and my mother no longer felt she must set a good example and served pie and coffee for breakfast. I highly recommend fruit pie, hot coffee and a good book on a sunny front stoop in the morning.

I'm a chicken around birds

2007-04-03T17:16:00.000-04:00

I came home for lunch last week, and was changing my shoes to go for a walk when a rustling sound stopped me in my tracks. Was someone going through the mail I had just brought in? (I tend to assume the worst since the weekend someone broke into our place when the Better Half was away and I was home asleep.)

Completely frozen, I listened and figured out with a great amount of relief and an equal amount of irritation that there was a bird in our apartment. We have a non functioning fireplace, and while we try to keep it blocked, i'm sure that's how the little bugger snuck in.

I'm not a big fan of birds. There are two birds I like. They belong to a friend of mine, and we've had lovely conversations through cage bars. I'm comfortable with that. No pecking, no flapping. This bird was clearly freaked out, flapping at windows and making awful thunking noises with his head and beak. I propped open the front door to let him out, and didn't get out of the way fast enough. As he flew at me, I fled out the door, one shoe in my hand, one on my foot... running serpentine down the walkway should he be right on my heels. I have an odd and very real fear of getting bats, bees or birds stuck in my hair (the bee actually happened!), and that motivated my exit from the apartment.

I went back inside and looked around. No bird. But I didn't trust him. I put on my other shoe and went for a walk. When I got back, I was armed with a fattening coffee drink, and called the BH at work about this bird thing. I really am not one of those wives who calls because... I missed my plane and don't know what to do/ the kids have dropped all of their legos through the porch floorboards and I can't get them out/ the toilet is clogged with a banana/ or there's a spider in the house. Those examples are all real phone calls I answered and redirected to appropriate spouses at my old job years ago. I remember each of these callers very clearly, and apparently joined their ranks last week. Steve's boss answered the phone, and even though I limited conversation to "Is Steve available?" he handed the phone over and said "Uh-oh". Did I sound that bad?

I said that I thought I let the bird out, but he should get home first or the bird and I would surely terrorize each other into some form of paralysis. He did get home before me, let the poor thing out, and for his pains got a pile of creosote, soot, and broken masonry dumped on his head when he checked the chimney flue. Lucky guy. Glad it wasn't me.

We are still scrubbing panic droppings off of things... my coat, our comforter, the window blinds, the floor, the curtains, the shirt I'd ironed for work. A little suprise every day really. A bird proofing site calls starlings "pest birds" and uses words like "muscular" and "bullies". Many thanks to them for helping me to rationalize my fear of something a tenth my size.

Indecision

2007-03-28T11:30:00.000-04:00

It occurred to me that I haven't been posting much lately. I haven't been able to string two coherent thoughts together, let alone write something that might make sense. At least we have Kate to keep us entertained!

I've been preoccupied lately with a number of things happening at work. Some opportunities, some good things and some bad things. I've always tried to be the sort of person who works to have a life, not someone who works because it is my life. I don't want to be defined by my job, because it really isn't who I am. I work because I need to, and I have always tried to make the best of that.

I work for a bank, and I'm currently an Assistant Manager in one of our branches. I don't always like my job for various reasons but it's better than working in a coal mine, or panhandling on the streets, for example. I might still look in to panhandling, since I think it may pay better. There have been a lot of things going on company wide, and my manager and I were asked to think about making some changes. Our sister branch here in Portsmouth suddenly needs a new manager and assistant manager. Ideally, they want our manager to make a lateral move over there, and I would stay here and move up to manager. You're probably going to think I'm crazy, because most people do, but I really don't want this job.

I'm trying to sort out the pros and cons of this position. So, here they are:

Reasons why I would do this-

It would be best for the bank.
It would look good on a resume.
It would eliminate the possibility that someone new would come in as my boss and be worse than the current boss.
People expect me to.
I like telling people what to do.
I'm sorry, I can't come up with any more pros. I won't even list "getting a raise", because it would be negligible at best. Insulting at worst.

Reasons why I don't want to do this-

I hate customer service. Hate it. No, really, I hate it. I already don't love what I do now, and this would be all of my current job and then some.
I would be directly responsible to a certain employee of the bank. I would rather claw my eyes out with knitting needles than have to answer to this misogynistic ass.
I would have to go out on Business Calls, which means that I would have to go out and walk up to total strangers and convince them to come bank with us. There would be quotas.
I would have to get involved with certain community organizations. I don't have anything against these organizations, but I already have causes and organizations that I participate in, and none of these are acceptable to the bank. I would potentially have to drop the causes that I actually believe in to make time for shmoozy-boozy Chamber Functions that every one in town knows are just an excuse for an open bar.
I want more from my life than climbing up the corporate ladder, and it feels like I would be taking myself further and further away from where I really want to be.
Once, just once in my life I want to take a job because I really want the job. Not because I think I should.

I can't decide if it would be more adult and responsible to just take the stupid job. I'm trying to convince myself that it is more adult and responsible to make a decision to stay away from a job I know I won't be happy with. What do you think?

One more corner left

2007-03-25T19:33:00.000-04:00

Our poor little car. You've already heard about the exhaust system that our driveway beats to heck on a daily basis. Someday I might tell you about the fight I had with the dealership in regards to our sunroof (that they broke during a rainy week). We make it haul anything from our canoe to Christmas trees. The trees are usually much bigger than the canoe, if you can believe it. I have a penchant for tall fluffy trees that won't fit in the front door - so believe it.

I am starting to worry about the disaster magnetism of our car. Back left bumper - run into by a moron in a boom truck while parked at work. Despite blue paint streaks that match the company truck (driven that day by the moron), he swears he did not do it. Weeks after this first love tap... front left wheel well - run into by the neighbor as he tried to scoot his car out of the space next to ours. He was very apologetic, but did send Papa Bear in alone to tell Mama Bear what had happened. Mama Bear was so mad, she didn't even say "What?!" or talk with her hands. I growled a lot, but thankfully it was unintelligible.

And then there's today. We're leaving the home-improvement-store-of-gross-and-greedy- warehouse-proportions. We watch a truck ("Oh geez! He's not gonna make it! Aagh! Our car!") pull away from a space he's unsuccesfully trying to back into. He misses our car by inches. We have enough time to sigh in relief before he's tries again, cutting it even wider ("Hey! Stop!"), pushing his back bumper into our right headlight. Crunch. Our little Honda bounces.

The driver gets out of the truck... and his wife hands him his cane. Not a good sign. From his speech and movement, it's obvious he is recovering from a stroke. Unable to feel anything but resentment that he's returned to driving, I sit in the car while Steve sorts out the details. The man's wife takes off like a shot, headed for another store (cheap-crap-designed-to- bring-the-US-economy-to-it's-knees). Not reassuring behavior. A lemon shortbread cookie of the Girl Scout variety soothes my temper a bit. Steve is wonderful and seems to ease the old man's anxieties just by being polite and calm. As he turns to leave, the man notices the car next to us, and points. A woman is getting out, and her door swings... it almost hits... As if acknowledging that that side has already been tagged twice, it clears. "I thought for sure they were gonna get you too" he says.

We have one more corner left, and wait for that last crunch to correct our "ding shui".

Please don't be my neighbor!

2007-03-19T11:13:00.000-04:00

I live in a college neighborhood. We share a parking lot with the building next door. There are probably nine or ten cars in that lot. Our lease says that snow removal is provided, but frequency is not specified, and the plow service isn’t the most customer friendly game in town. When it snows, maybe half of the tenants bother to shovel. It snowed again this weekend. I like snow, I do. But shoveling for three days straight can take all the fun out of a snow storm.

My stupid (I’m sorry, she IS. Quite. Stupid.) neighbor came over while we were shoveling this weekend and sniveled about her bushes. We were putting snow on them see, and they DIE off every year. And she’s talked to our landlord, and asked him to talk to the plow guy, and WHAT can she do to get us to stop ruining her bushes. This is the same hedge that she hacked to hell last year, and called it pruning. I’ve seen pruning. That was not it. This is also the same woman who had a bonfire in her backyard last year. Her yard is about 15’x15’, and surrounded by trees and bushes. It is also closely bordered by other houses (including hers). A bonfire. See what I mean about stupid?

She went on to tell us that other people dumped snow there too, AND some college student parked her into her driveway causing her to miss an appointment the other day, AND she’s tried fences but the students just tear them down. There was a pause for breath here, and I must have had a look of some sort on my face because she whined “and I don’t WANT to move, I LIKE downtown”. It wasn’t a childish whine either – it was the grownup version that sets your teeth on edge. I wanted to charge her an hourly rate for therapy, but instead just said “Hmm” and stared at her with my best “go away please” eyes, adding an “I can’t control the other tenants” grimace.

We apologized. We offered to shovel the snow off of the bushes. She punctuated our conversation with “I’m just trying to work this out” and “it’s just… you know…”. And the whole conversation would start. All over again. I got the impression that she’d come over for a confrontation and was disappointed that we were so accommodating and apologetic.

It’s not just bad yard habits, whining, and her rude approach to problem solving that gets on my nerves. Her son fired his b.b. gun through the butchered hedge last year, almost hitting me. She heard us yell “hey, stop shooting!” and made him come over to apologize. We talked with him about safety- the possibility that he could hit people or their cars, and the fact that we're not crazy about guns. She gave us a sucking-lemons face over that one - probably because it's a conversation she's never had w/ her kid. "I just let him shoot at pigeons, he understands that." she said. Okay, I'm not a FAN of pigeons, but have you heard of paper targets lady?! I’m sure their bonfire blackened lawn hides the bodies of multitudes of dead city birds. Eww. We did thank the kid for coming over to apologize, and acknowledged that it was a hard thing to do. He was squirmy and uncomfortable, and took off almost before we finished speaking. She made the lemon face again as he ran up the driveway and around the corner. We stared back. Somehow, she’d made us feel like we were in the wrong. There is nothing to say in situations like that. You just say Thank You even though you don’t mean it, and pray not to have to interact again.

I was remembering this last conversation as she finally walked away and left us to our work. If she was watching out her window again, she saw my mouth moving as I removed remaining snow to appropriate areas. Hopefully she thought I was singing shoveling songs to myself.

A Logo

2007-03-16T17:06:00.000-04:00

GKD has a logo!? Heather spring cleaned the site, and we found this lovely doodle just lying around so...

Really, I hounded the Better Half to draw "something" for us. Anyone who could come up with a skull and cross bones for the cover of my recipe collection, make our family wedding photograph sing the "Menah menah" song, and create a flash movie of my dad and his squirt gun could come up with a logo for a blog called "Gourmet Knitting Disaster". Each completed project encourages new ideas (on my part). Maybe some day he'll actually have time for his projects instead of mine.

If you read the comments posted to this blog, you will recognize Alex's name - the reason we met, the blog pusher himself, the faithful reader we verbally poke at with pointy sticks. To honor Alex as our number one (and sometimes only) fan, we gave him the first piece of what he called "blogophenalia" for his birthday. An apron avec GKD logo was appropriate not because Alex splashes when he eats, but because he's a good cook. I often invite myself to his house for barbecue, turkey dinner, brunch... He makes great chocolate chess and pumpkin pies.

Thank you Steve. Thank you Alex.