Small successes

I did it! I completed a knitting project successfully!! Hooray!

OK. It's a hat. Probably not worth nearly the number of exclamation points that appear in that first line, but I'll take what I can get these days, you know?
There it is. It's a size that actually fits a human head (as opposed to, say, a hippo head). All of the little cables worked out the way I wanted them to, and they cross in nifty ways, and do you see how it made one triangle inside another triangle? How cool is that? I knitted it on 1/3 fewer stitches than last time (which should give you a sense of how much too big the last one was).
That's the patterning on one of the thirds. It's more hat-like than tam-like, really, and if Older Daughter doesn't end up wearing it, I will. (heh) I'm planning to head on over to my LYS to get some of the same yarn in blue to knit one of these for Younger Daughter, too.
The real color is somewhere between this picture and the last two.

To recap, this is a hat knitted out of Classic Elite Yarns Waterlily, on size eight needles, in my own pattern. Here's my project page on Ravelry.

It's also finally winter squash season at our farmer's market (even though temps today are going to be in the 90s, sigh), so I've been pulling out some of my favorite recipes. Butternut squash tart, anyone?

Stick a fork in it

'Cause this semester is done.

Yesterday, I got up, filed my grades, went by the post office (still one more package to mail, but that might have to wait until after Christmas, we'll see), dropped a batch of granola off at Yarning For You, went to campus to put out a final that a student wanted to pick up, went to my last two meetings, and it was all over. Technically, grades were due today by 3:00, but since I'd filed, I called it done. What a relief. I survived the first semester of furloughs and all of the craziness that entails. There's a lot more to get through this year, and every projection I've heard says that next academic year will be worse, but for now there's nothing I can do about it, and I can live with that.

I spent much of Monday cooking.
That's the makings for my usual manymany batches of holiday granola, as well as two pots of lentil soup (one for Monday night's Solstice celebration, and one for last night's cookie-decorating party at a friend's house). This lentil soup is my all-time absolute favorite, and the go-to recipe for this kind of thing. I've yet to meet a person who doesn't like it (assuming they eat sausage), including kids and people who don't like lentils. In case you need a recipe like that, I've included it at the end.

Monday night's Solstice celebration (held every year at at the UU fellowship of a friend of mine) was truly wonderful. There is something about this waning time of year, the time of silent growth in the dark places, that resonates for me. It's a time to set intentions, to gather inward all of the energy that usually gets spent outward, and to use that energy to grow the new things that the next cycle needs. Celebrating Solstice reminds me to set those intentions, to be mindful of them, and to give them what they need to grow. It's a time to look back and to internalize what I've learned, use it to move forward. And it's a good time to remember that to the darkest times, light will return.

I've also been knitting. On Sunday, I knitted up that little beaded tam I mentioned in my last post, and I love it so much that I wore it both Monday and Tuesday (I decided that wearing it today would constitute some kind of weird obsession, so I desisted, but it was a close call).
It actually looks all right, even with my short hair.
And I absolutely love the colors. Love them. This goes with just about everything I own, no kidding. I could wear it a LOT.
And the best bit is, this was 100% a stash hat. I had a skein of Koigu tucked away that I'd bought ages ago and hadn't used yet, and these beads are left over from a project I did a while ago. So, this is the Koigu Beaded Tam (my Rav page), made out of a skein of Koigu (with a titch left over, as I did the small size, and the medium size is still one skein) and 90 beads, on size two needles (with size zeros for the band), plus an itty-bitty crochet hook for the beads. I like this so much that I might knit another one to go with my Spiraluscious mitts and neckwarmer (a matching set! imagine!); I'm just not sure if I have enough of the yarn left over, and I can't seem to figure out how to buy more online. Weird... In any case, I need to knit tams for the girls, first, and for that I need to go find more beads somewhere. Maybe early next week I'll take them to pick beads out to go with the yarn for their hats (I think I posted a picture of that last time?).

I also realized that I never showed finished pictures of the socks I finished for Rick while I was in Philadelphia. He's worn them several times since and says they're very comfortable, which is good, as I fiddled a bit with my usual sock pattern.
I knitted these toe-up so I could use up all of this wonderful yarn (March Hare), which I absolutely adored; I bought this at Sock Summit, and I am so glad that I got some for myself, too, because otherwise I don't think I could have used this on socks for anyone but me. I really love this particular colorway, too. Anyway, I ended up with about two yards of yarn left, if that, so I think I made the right choice.

The two main modifications for these was to adjust the toe increases on each foot to more closely match the shape of Rick's foot; first I did half of the increases evenly paired on each side of the toe, then I did all of the rest of the increases only on the outside of the foot. I don't think I have a good picture of that. The other thing I did was to put the heel flap on the bottom of the heel and then make the gusset decreases paired along the middle of the back of the heel. This makes them look as if they aren't gussetted socks (since Rick doesn't like that look), while still getting to put in a heel flap (which I think wears better); it also puts the eye-of-partridge heel on the bottom of the foot, where a little extra padding is, I think, rather nice.
I don't know if you can see there that the eye-of-partridge is on the bottom of the foot, and the decreases are going up the back of the leg.
I'll have to see how these wear as he uses them more. I may make my pair the same way, so I can try it. I made a pair for Older Daughter like this, about a year ago, and they've certainly worn well, so maybe it's a good one. We'll see.

Meanwhile, it's time to work on that next batch of granola, and to start some of the cooking for tomorrow; with luck, I can get the red cabbage cooked, and the cucumber salad made, and maybe even the filling for the pork pie. And the rod grod? We'll see... I probably won't post again until after Christmas, so I wish each and every one of you peace and happiness.


Lentil Soup Recipe:
You'll need: an onions, some carrots, some celery, red wine that you would drink (the best way to test this is to pour yourself a glass as you start cooking), lentils (I use the regular old brown kind), a big can of V-8 (or your favorite tomato juice with herbs et al in it), a big can of crushed tomatoes, and three or four hot Italian sausages.

Put the sausages in a skillet to cook.

Cut up the onion and start sauteeing it in some olive oil. Drink some of your wine to get over the onion tears. Cut up the carrots (as many as you like, I usually use three or so), and toss those in with the onions. You can throw a couple of cloves of garlic in there, too, if you like; dealer's choice. Cut up the celery (I like to include some of the leaves from the heart of the bunch, too, but go with what you like), and chuck that on in there. Let it all saute together for a bit until the onion is tender. If you've put in garlic cloves, mash them up. Turn the sausages over and have a little more wine. Now, put somewhere between two and three cups of lentils into the pot with the veggies and stir them in. Then add the can of tomato juice, the can of crushed tomatoes, and a very generous slug of the red wine. You can also put in some water, depending on whether you want it to be more soupy or more stewy (you can add more water at any point in the cooking process, as you wish). Bring it to a boil, then lower to a simmer and let cook with the lid on until the lentils are tender. Meanwhile, whenever the sausages are mostly cooked, cut them up and throw them in the pot to finish cooking with the lentils. Serve with bread and maybe some parmesan cheese and more of the wine.

Cake, Lud.

A few people asked me for the recipe to the spice cake with butternut squash that I mentioned, so I hunted it up online:
http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/buttermilk-cake-spiced-vanilla-icing.aspx

I just finished icing it and putting the candied ginger on it, and I don't know that I'm going to be able to wait until Rick gets home from his birthday mountain bike ride to dig in.
Mmm....

26,686

That's how many steps I took on my long walk on Saturday with Anna and her Walk for the Cure teammate Nancy. Thirteen and a half miles worth. Four hours (it was hot and dry). I have to say, I'm pretty proud of myself. And my leg didn't hurt! (I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but trust me -- it is.)

This was in the middle of a hectic day. The girls had soccer games in the morning, and as soon as I got home, we needed to head straight back out for one of my dear friend's annual Diwali party, which is great fun, and which involved me trying to get a sari on all by myself. I almost managed it, and required only minimal adjusting when I got there, and nothing fell down while I was in public (which I consider to be a feat worthy of recognition). I absolutely adore wearing a sari on this once-a-year occasion when I have an excuse to do so. Honestly, I so wish that I could wear one all the time; there's nothing like draping oneself in nine yards of fabric to feel all swishy and pretty. Alas that I was born in the wrong place. If I lived in India, I could probably get away with it, and if I were of Indian heritage living here I could probably get away with it, but being who I am living where I am, not so much.

Sunday was a more relaxing day. I spun another ounce of the Sanguin Gryphon roving; I am hoping to get it all spun and plied before my conference at the end of the month, so I can knit a scarf for myself out of it while I sit through talks. We'll see how realistic that is. I also got some serious knitting done on the baby blanket, and am through the skein of brown yarn, and onto the skein of blue. It doesn't look like much.
But it's progress. The little star in the middle turned out nicely.
We might be heading up north in a couple of weeks to visit, and I'm hoping to have it done by then, so I can give it to Rick's cousin in person. We'll see. It's a great project to knit while reading, which means, among other things, that I'm working my way rather quickly through Knitting America and will soon be on to No Idle Hands. (I should mention, by the way, that all y'all are some serious book-buying facilitators, not to mention research-doing supporters. I now know where to turn when it comes time to interview knitters, I think.) Knitting has finally made it so that I don't mind hardbacks so much, since they stay open while I knit (I mostly hate big books because I can't easily carry them around with me in the very small backpack I allow myself as a purse)(must protect the back).

Meanwhile, I started my day today with a lovely walk on one of my favorite local trails with both dogs (and Anna and her two dogs -- we were a herd!), who then spent the rest of the day sprawled around me at my desk while I worked on the presentation I need to give at that conference at the end of the month (eek!).
I was surrounded, as you can see.

Not a bad way to start the week. And now I'm off to start baking some butternut squash to go along with the sauteed sausages and peppers on pasta. Mmmm....

Mileage

Has anyone noticed that fewer people seem to use many of the once ubiquitous acronyms in blog comments and discussion groups? Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places, but I remember a time (this would have been about nine years ago, when I was working at Ask Jeeves, and spent a lot of time online; I was also lurking on a board devoted to debating the question of whether mothers should or should not stay at home with their children -- I never could quite figure out why that was a debate rather than a personal choice, but that's a post for another time) when people constantly used acronyms like DH, MIL, DD, DS, LOL, and one of my favorites, ROFLMAO. I do see them sometimes now, but less than I used to. Maybe it's the fora I frequent? Maybe they've lost their charm? Who knows.

But there's one that I miss, and that I wish we could bring back into use. Does anyone remember the acronym YMMV? Your Mileage May Vary. As in: "I found that swaddling my baby until nine months of age really helped her to sleep. YMMV." I loved that acronym. It essentially conveyed a message in which I believe wholeheartedly: we all have different experiences, and what works for some people may not (oh, heck, why don't I get really bold and say "will not") work for all. And there's nothing wrong with that. When the speaker or writer of that lovely acronym really believes in it, it makes all the difference between telling someone how they should do things, and sharing a take-it-or-leave-it life experience. Can you imagine American politics if people thought this way more often, instead of trying to legislate other people into behaving and believing all the same?

You may say I'm a dreamer...

I think that it is more and more important to move away from the all-or-nothing mentality that seems to be such a part of the American way of looking at the world. It's so easy, in many ways, to have a hard-and-fast rule for dealing with any given situation. Then there's no need to think when that situation arises; we just do what the rule says. Even when, sometimes, that's probably not the most right thing to do on that particular day at that particular time.

For me, those kinds of knee-jerk reactions mean that I'm living less mindfully. That I'm not paying attention to the particulars of a situation, that I'm distancing myself by generalizing. I don't think that I end up bringing my most thoughtful (as in, "full of thought", rather than "kind") self to interactions that way. Being flexible in my reactions is harder than just making assumptions. It requires me to consider each moment in its particular context, to pay attention. But I truly believe that life, being the great balancing act that it is, requires that kind of attention in order for me to be a full participant. Like walking a tightrope, it's all too easy to fall off, into old habits of body or mind, if I stiffen up and stop paying attention.

I've been thinking about this lately in the context of food. About a month ago, I bought two books which, by happenstance, had messages that really reinforced each other. They were Michael Pollen's new book In Defense of Food, and Alice Water's new cookbook The Art of Simple Food. They both really got me thinking about something that I've noticed before, but hadn't articulated. In the vein of that all-or-nothing mentality that I mentioned, I think that many people tend to think of eating as a "don't do that" kind of thing, of food as the enemy. Don't eat fat. Don't eat sugar. Don't eat white flour. Don't eat meat. Don't eat this kind of fish or that kind of plant. Don't, don't, don't. It is rare to see eating framed in terms of "do".

Do eat with friends and family. Do touch your food; play with it a little, even. Do take time to taste it. Do try everything at least once, and probably three or four times just to see what you think of it. Do eat what your body needs. Do think of cooking and eating as sensual experiences, as cultural experiences, as spiritual experiences. Do understand that food is a gift, that things die so that we can live, that grace is part of every meal.

Seen that way, it's hard not to eat well. If meals are a celebration, a sacrament, rather than simply fuel, if we think of the time that it takes to prepare and eat a meal with people we love as time well spent, rather than as time spent away from doing important things, how much healthier would we be, as a people? How much happier? How much more in touch with the people and world around us?

YMMV.

Off again

This is my least favorite part about really busy periods of life; when I have to head off into the next thing without having had any time (or, at least, sufficient time) to recover from the last thing. My parents left on Friday, after a very nice visit. They took us all out to dinner on Thursday, Older Daughter's choice. She chose the Stone Brewery (Rick was so proud). She likes the outdoor beer garden, which is extremely architectural, with huge granite boulders everywhere (stones, get it?), and a fountain with a fire pit in the middle. I like the gargoyles. Rick likes the beer. The yummy macaroni and cheese does not, I think, hurt anything. We had good fun, and I got to have a delicious hard cider, nice and dry (they are more difficult to find here in the States than you might think, alas).
Also, since I didn't post any pictures last time, here's one of the proud graduate.
After my parents left on Friday, we had the rest of the day and yesterday to get ready for me to leave today for the rest of the week. So, in that time, we had a peaceful family dinner on Friday night (homemade pizza) followed by peach/apricot/blueberry crumble and a game of Ticket to Ride (love that game). On Saturday, Rick took the girls mountain biking (National Trails Day), while I went to the farmer's market (the fiber lady was not there, alas; there's someone who I think really needs an uplifting fiber package right about now, and I wanted to get some roving). They had a great time, even though Older Daughter fell down, breaking her brand-new binoculars and bruising her hip quite spectacularly in the process. She was reportedly very game, though, and hopped back up and kept riding. (Rick says that they've been blogged about in the mountain biking blogosphere -- who knew such a thing existed? -- but I don't have the link.)
I stayed home and cooked. This is what I feel compelled to do before leaving everyone for any length of time. Maybe I want them to remember why they'd like me to come back? So I made a batch of yogurt, three baguettes, a pot of soup, granola, a rhubarb crumble, and some rhubarb compote (for reasons which are unclear to me at this time, we appeared to have an excess of rhubarb lying around). Then I took the girls to a birthday party for a little while, before coming home early so we could all have dinner together (Rick begged off the party).

Knitting content? You want knitting content? There's really not been much in the way of knitting around here, what with visiting and all. And what knitting there has been, up until last night, has been on the skirt, which is starting to look like a giant blue octopus, rather than anything more interesting.

However, last night I had a few moments (while watching BBC's Robin Hood; I'm a sucker for men in tights, apparently)(this might explain the attraction to my mountain-biking husband, come to think of it) to cast on Anne's latest mitts, which I'm knitting for Older Daughter in my lovely handspun from the Linguistic roving. I made it through the cuff. What do you think?
Want a closer look?
I am pleasantly surprised by how well the yarn is knitting up. And the colors work very nicely with the pattern!

I also forgot to show you what I did the other weekend while Rick was busy building cubbies for the girls.
Yup. Stash organization. It's not all there; there's still some in my usual baskets, but I'm feeling much more in control of it (the basket holds my roving stash, such as it is). I also absconded with a bookshelf from the playroom that the girls no longer needed and repurposed it to hold my knitting books. I don't have a picture, but it's good to have them all visible and in one place.

This morning is all about packing. I'm leaving today for a week-long workshop in Berkeley. I don't know how much posting I'll be able to do, although I've been told that, so long as I have a cable, I should be able to access the internet in the dorms. What posting I do manage will probably be fairly linguistic in nature -- fair warning. Meanwhile, I need to get ready to go. If I'm packed in time, we'll be able to have dim sum on the way to the airport. How's that for incentive?

Schizophrenic weather

Well, after that lovely gripe about the sun, the weather has taken an abrupt about-face, and it's now raining. (I should mention that I'm pretty gleeful about the whole rain thing, and I intend to enjoy, quite literally, every last drop of it.)(I should also mention that everyone's comments has made it clear that many of us want whatever weather we're not having. Hmm...) This means that I can plan one last cold-weather meal, involving a root soup (turnips and carrots and onions, oh my!), and, at Rick's request (like my daughters, he knows that flattery about my cooking will get him everywhere) I am making baguettes. We'll finish up with a peach/mulberry crumble. Mmm...

This is the kind of weather, and the kind of menu, that allows me to fully utilize and appreciate my very favorite tool in the kitchen.
My stove. I think I've waxed poetic about this baby before, so I'll limit myself to mentioning that when it comes to baking bread in a chilly house, a stove with pilot lights is a godsend. That bowl there in the middle? Bread dough. Warm and toasty on a griddle, with pilot lights making the little yeasties grow like mad. Good times.

The weather has also provided me with a welcome excuse to wear the contents of the package that arrived the other day. The pictures here aren't so good -- this is a problem with the light I'm (not) getting, but you get the idea.
Recognize that? The blue's a bit off. How about here?
Yup, it's Anne's Star of Evening shawl. Isn't it stunning? When we met up here in San Diego, it transpired that each of us like the other's color even better than our own, so we decided to gift them to one another when we were done. I love the idea of my shawl being out there in Ohio with Anne, and of having her shawl here in San Diego. It feels like coming full circle, and like a wonderful way to celebrate a friendship. (It smells good, too -- what do you wash your wool with, Anne?)

Last night, after a quick dinner, we went out again to see a play that was being put on at a local playhouse by a children's theater group. Two of the actors were daughters of a dear friend of mine, and my honorary nieces, so we were pretty excited to see them strut their stuff. It was great fun. The script, a take-off (maybe send-off?) of the Robin Hood story, had been written by one of the folks who runs the workshop, and he did a great job. There were some wonderfully funny lines (I laughed out loud several times; clearly I have a sense of humor that is tickled by these kinds of things -- it doesn't get better than addressing Maid Marion's two attendants as Maid 1 and Maid 2; here's a nice dialogue from the script: RH: "Hello, Maid 1", M1, "Hello!", RH "Hello, Maid 2", M2 "Hello, hello!" I tell you, it about killed me). The girls both did wonderfully. The older of the two was a soothsayer, who, to quote, said sooths. As a linguist, you've got to love that kind of thing.

All righty, Bea tagged me with a meme, so here goes.

The rules of the game get posted at the beginning. Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5-6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?
I had just had Older Daughter, and was finishing up my dissertation.

2. What are 5 things on my to-do list for today (not in any particular order):
Go to yoga (already did that, so I can cross it off); read articles for the paper I'm writing; track down more references for the paper I'm writing; finish my assigned time reporting for work; take the kids to piano lessons; take Tilly for a walk (I think that's six, sorry!)

3. Snacks I enjoy:
Bread and cheese, chocolate chip cookies, red bell peppers, pretty much any baked good

4. Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Gosh, a billion, huh? That's a lot... I'd probably keep doing a lot of what I'm already doing, except that I'd travel a lot more with my family (India first, or Turkey. Or maybe Nepal...). Donate to foundations which support language maintenance and revitalization, among others. Buy a piece of property in Point Reyes. Find a way to support the development of alternative energy sources and the maintenance of local food sources. (Big money = big dreams...)

5. Places I have lived:
In California: Sacramento, Los Angeles, Oakland, Berkeley, El Cerrito, Vista. Also, Avignon, in France.

6. Jobs I have had:
Piano teacher, receptionist, person who ran the xerox machine for a high school (there just is no good title for that one), archivist, graduate student assistant, reading development teacher, professor.

I'm supposed to tag the next round of people, but almost everyone I can think of has done it, except for some folks who are madly grading, and I won't burden them. Grab it if you want to, and let me know so I can come and see your answers.

Marketing

It's a funny thing about grocery shopping. I don't know about you, but it's never been my favorite thing. The florescent lighting, the scary food products that I can't identify, the stressed out people, the strange magazine headlines at the checkout. I don't know what exactly it is, but I have always gone into a state of terminal overload the moment I enter a big store. The bigger it is, the worse the overload. I think partly it's my problem with shiny objects. I'm thinking to myself, just get the peanut butter, just get the peanut butter, but then look! there's some cheese over there that I've never seen before, I should go look at that, but then look! that cereal's got a new picture on its box and I should check that out, but then look! what's Brittney gone and done this time? And by the time I've been in the store for five minutes, I have eight things in my basket and none of them is peanut butter, and I'm ready to go home for a nap.

A girl could go broke shopping like that. Or crazy. Or both. (Which could explain something about the 90's, now I come to think about it.)

When we lived in Berkeley, I discovered a store called the Berkeley Bowl. As overwhelming as that store was in many ways, it wasn't quite such a bad experience, I think because (in its first incarnation), it wasn't too big, and the people who worked there had worked there for years and came to know me, and the boxes of stuff weren't quite so shiny as they are in the usual grocery stores (probably because there weren't that many boxes; everything was sold in bulk).

And then we moved here, and I found out that we live a mile away from the longest continuously-running certified farmer's market in the area (I have heard it said that it's the oldest certified farmer's market in California, but I can't find the reference for that right now, and I like to be able to cite sources). And we started going there. A few months later, the employees' unions of the major supermarkets around here went on strike, and we stopped going there. By the time that was over, grocery shopping had changed for us forever. Between the farmer's market, and the local grocery (LGS?), and an occasional visit to Trader Joe's, we're pretty much covered.

And I find I don't mind shopping so much anymore. There is something fundamentally different about shopping outdoors, and about buying food from the people who grow it. A very large portion of the farmer's market is certified (which, in farmer's market parlance, means that the sellers are the producers; there are no middle-people in this process). And the people who come, come every week, rain or shine, summer or winter. While Rick goes even more often that I do (he, too, goes every week, rain or shine, summer or winter; sometimes I get to stay home and have the house all to myself, and as much as I love the market, alone time in the house trumps all), I go often enough that folks recognize me, too (although usually as the wife of the tall guy, and the mother of the incredibly active girls). Where else can you buy chard, and also have the seller tell you that your daughters really do look like you? She also knows that we want the tops on our turnips and carrots, because the guinea pigs eat them, and that Rick will visit her stand twice every week, once to buy veggies, and the second time, on the way out, to buy sweet peas, so they won't wilt before he gets to the car. The teenager who works for her uncle at the apple stand regularly comments on how tall Younger Daughter is getting, and the bread guy holds aside a loaf of multigrain organic, because he knows Rick will want one (which hasn't stopped him from convincing Rick to also try the corn/rye bread, which is delicious).

It sure beats florescent lights, strange foodstuffs, and overload.

Now, I know that this isn't for everyone. Not everyone lives so close to a market. Not everyone has time to go to at least two places to shop during the week. A lot of people hate shopping as much as I did, and will do anything to keep it to one place. But as I said to a dear friend of mine the other week, maybe some of us hate shopping because of where we shop, rather than the other way around. Maybe...

What does all this have to do with fiber, you ask? (This being, after all, in theory a fiber-related blog; but come on, don't we all like food, just a little bit?) Well, I'll tell you. Our market now has a lovely woman who comes and sells her yarn and her roving. She's in the certified section now, because she raises the sheep and llamas whence the wool comes. And she brings her wheel and spins at the market. How cool is that?

Why yes, I did get some fiber when I was at the market today, now that you mention it. (We must support local business, no?)
The stuff on the bottom is from a Jacob. The fleece is white with black splotches, and she's carded them together to get that lovely heathery color. It's tremendously soft. And then, just as a teaser, she handed me that little bit on top, which is from a Wensleydale. I think she's an enabler.

I'm almost done plying the second batch of the wool/tencel blend. Here are the singles.
And plied.
I have my new niddy-noddy, so if I can finish this off tonight, I'll wind it into a skein and wash it to hang to dry.

Gwilim says it's hot, and he's right, so we're grilling tonight. Fresh nopales (must go take the prickers off now; you've got to love having Younger Daughter asking -- loudly -- at the market, "Mama, why can't we eat the pricks?" Sigh...), and tortillas, and tomatillo salsa. Mmm...

Where does the time go?

How is Monday over already?! This is my one day where I get to work at home (an attempt to find a day each week to concentrate without folks knocking on my door), and it's over! How did that happen?

What's worse, I spent the whole day working on one thing. I mean, it's great to have it done, but it might have been nice to do something else, for just a minute. It's a co-authored paper that I'm editing, and I found myself very annoyed by some of the suggested edits, because they're more a British/American thing than the kinds of substantive edits that I am usually happy to address (as in, there was a comment along the lines of "uses punctuation wrong"; excuse me?). But if it's just a dialectal style thing, it seems like it would be very hard for me to know how to change what's "wrong", since I don't speak or write any dialect of British English (is this the linguist in me coming out?). I mean, I wouldn't demand that someone respell "colour" in my edited volume... Ah, well, it's done. I wish, thought, that I'd also had time to think about an abstract I'd like to write for a conference in New Zealand next summer (love NZ, would like to go back). Tomorrow, however, is another day. (I'm starting to feel like a mix between Little Orphan Annie and Scarlett O'Hara -- now there's a book with one of the world's best opening lines...where's my copy of that book? I could get into that right now...)(That parenthetical is evidence of what I call the shiny-object-distraction syndrome that takes me sometimes, in which I tool along down one train of thought, until, Oh, look! A shiny object! And I'm off in a different direction. Others might call it distractable. I choose to think of it as whimsical.)

I took the girls to the Mingei yesterday in Escondido to see the origami exhibit, which was truly amazing. I mean, look at this dragon:
It's made out of one 9x9 foot sheet of paper. Seriously. I'm in love. And there was a crane:
And a nautilus:
And wouldn't you have loved this for a wedding bouquet?
There was more, but I will try not to go overboard here. The kids got to take origami lessons from different people, and had an absolute blast. After errands, the day ended with a potato and ham frittata, baked tahitian squash and green beans, followed by a strawberry-rhubarb crumble (I love the farmer's market). After another chapter of The Blue Djinn of Babylon for the kids, it was bedtime for them, and work time for me.

I'm starting to feel like we've really lost the work/family balance thing, and it's distressing me quite a bit (not to mention being a strain in discussions with R about these things). In my optimal world, work happens at work, during the day, and evenings and weekends are for time as a family. Sometimes that doesn't happen, but when it doesn't happen more than it does, I get fretful. I know it means it's time for a change, but it's hard to control what and who has to change for it to really ease up, y'know? I guess I can only do what I can do, and leave the rest alone. Meanwhile, it's lentil stew for dinner tonight, and, with this paper done, maybe I can actually knit after the kids go to bed. Fingers crossed, everyone, fingers crossed (meanwhile, I'm sending out good paper writing thoughts to everyone else who's working on one right now, too!).

Fun with a gallon of milk

Boy howdy. It turns out you can have an amazing amount of fun with a gallon of milk if you have the right add-ons. Last night, I received in the mail my kit for making mozzarella (from the Cheese Queen, whose site is just wonderful fun, if you're a food kind of person, which I am). So, older daughter and I decided to see just how much fun could be had with a gallon of milk, some vegetable rennet and citric acid. It turns out, a whole lot. Did you know mozzarella, in the making stages, it stretchy? I mean, who knew? (Other than a whole lot of Italians.) You can even braid it, or make string cheese out of it. Of course, we were getting too excited about eating it to actually do any of those things, but the point is, we can. The kit I got has enough stuff to make 30 pounds of cheese! (Grommit -- am I the only one who helplessly says that after saying cheese?) And for dinner, we had BLTMs, with the bread that I also made yesterday. It turns out that after having people in my house for a few days, the way that I take back my space is to cook in it. Bread is particularly good for this sort of thing, since it takes a while, involves lots of puttering, and smells really good. Also, I get all kinds of props from DH and the girls, who think that homemade bread is the bomb. So that's all good.

We did, in fact, make it to the Scottish Games near our house on Sunday, and great fun was had by all, but (if you can believe this) I forgot my camera. So, the men in kilts will just have to live on in my imagination (feel free to imagine them yourselves, if you like, especially the darling one with the bright red hair who smiled prettily and said kind things to my daughter after she stepped on his foot: "it's OK, we'll share", he said, "I'll use the bottom half, and you can have the top half" -- I mean, how charming is that?). Unfortunately, the Wicked Tinkers weren't there this year (and I mean to have words with someone about that, just as soon as I can figure out to whom to address them), and I missed the glorious noise that they make (that and the fact that my younger daughter usually naps during their concerts; I don't know what it is about bagpipes and bodhrans, but she's clearly got more than a bit of the Celt in her from me).

I also did something that I've been contemplating for years. Really years. When I was a wee lass, after having taken piano lessons for a long time, my parents, being the musical sort, asked me what instrument I'd like to try next. My answer was prompt and unequivocal: Bagpipes. Theirs was equally prompt and unequivocal: Over our dead and rotting bodies. Alas. However, since I am now the grown-up (shades of our President: I'm the decider), I can do as I please with regards to loud musical instruments, and I bought myself a chanter. Of course, early attempts suggest something more akin to a dying duck than anything else, but I hope to improve someday (with luck, before I add a bag and drones to the assembly). Wish me luck!! (And if anyone out there has tried this and has any advice, I would be eternally grateful.)

Knitting also took place. I am on the last repeat of the basketweave part of Hanami (yay!!):
(please excuse the odd angle -- I didn't want to wait for photos to download from my camera, so I am trying to play with the one that's in my computer). An artsier shot:
It's just lovely, and I now have to decide if it's long enough to be half done, or whether to do an extra repeat -- I just wish I had a better sense of exactly how much it will stretch... We'll see.

I also finished one traveller's sock, and the other is on its way. The picture here is much more embarrassing (in terms of its commentary on my extreme lack of artfulness), but I'm baring all here (see above discussion regarding men in kilts and bagpipes), so:
I actually like how the colors and the stitchwork go together on this one (whew!). And, I finally put together the pieces of needle felting I did to make a tea cozy:
See the buttons? Those come from my husband's Grandmom's button box. What a treasure trove -- I spent almost 45 minutes going through it before I could choose! Now it goes off to my LYS for display before the needle felting classes.

So, any advice on bagpipes or on the relative stretchiness of lace cheerfully accepted here. Tomorrow, I'll show you the garden we planted.