Happy Easter! It's a sweet holiday, even for us non-Christians (or maybe especially for us, because there's no torture connected with it.)
Today gives me a chance to bring out one of the three jokes I'm able to remember. The other two have to do with drinking strings and an Irishman. But this one's my favorite.
What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Answer below:
These beautiful eggs are from the chicken flock at the Museum.
Why do we have chickens at a Museum, you might ask. Well, I'll tell you.
The museum has a "living history" component, in other words, actors who dress up in 1870's clothing and interact in character with the visitors. We have a homestead with a cabin, barn and stable where they hang out. Included are wild mustangs, heirloom goats (not kidding) and chickens. Therefore, the eggs.
Their subtle varied hues are so beautiful that we didn't need to dye eggs this year. We're admiring them til tomorrow, then we'll eat them and appreciate them from the inside.
So, I've been running this blog for a year as of today. Here are some stats:
Average visits a day: 75
Visits in the last month: 1867
Percent of visitors who are actually looking for rescued poultry hand-knit outerwear information: (guesstimate): 15%
Category with the most posts: knitting, followed closely by blogging and personal. It's all about me, folks.
Number of posts in the last year: 380 Sheesh. If you can't get quality, make up for it in quantity, that's my motto!
Posts that drew the most visits: An adoption memory
Number of comments in the last year: 833 (you guys rock!)
Post that drew the most comments (not including my own): six-word memoirs
I was going to run some link-back post-about-me contest for my blogoversary, 'cause that's the shameless self-promotional blogger thing to do, but it's too much work.
So instead, send me a comment, I'll pick two names out of a hat, and you'll receive your choice of my go-to knitted gifts: a catnip mouse, a coffee cup cozy, or a cotton warshrag, as Kathi D puts it.
You have til Saturday, but your chances are pretty darn good, as only about ten of you comment (sniff).
Given that tomorrow is my one-year blogoversary, I thought I'd share my thoughts on Why I Blog.
Saturday morning started with a long walk in the sagebrush with Mary and the dogs - an activity we've enjoyed for 12 years, on and off. Brisk and invigorating (Mary has long legs). I then brushed a pound of hair off the dog which always makes him all giddy and silly for some reason.
Mary (my occasional-housemate) has bought her own place so moved her stuff out of my spare bedroom. We'll really miss her, but I did gain back a room. I spent the rest of the day reclaiming it, moving in the Wii, books, knitting stuff, ironing board, etc. That was absurdly rewarding, and got me to organize bookcases, magazines, projects and knitting stash. As a result, my bedroom is now much less cluttered and more relaxing. I then finished every knitting project on the needles - a first in a long time. Mellow evening at home with a movie, Henry and his sleep-over friend, and a solitary sojourn in the hot tub.
Sunday I baked for breakfast, then had fun with the wet/dry vac for an hour or so. I discovered that it blew as well as sucked, so I blew all the leaves and needles from the winter off the deck, terrace and porch. Nice! Next I sucked out the old nasty pond water from the waterfall, found the leak in my liner and patched it. I filled the pool, set up and started the pump and was rewarded for all my hard work last year with the lovely sound of water down through the rock, between a trickle and a splash. (Not a trash really, how about a splickle?)
It was (unseasonably) warm and sunny, so I sat on the terrace, enjoying the waterfall, knitting lace and drinking Pinot Gris while 10-yr-old boys played baseball in the front yard.
And you know what? I felt incredibly happy, and at peace.
And to top it all off, baseball season started.
When they built my house, they installed an "Insta-Hot." It's an environmentally-incorrect clever little appliance set into the sink that delivers almost-boiling water whenever you push the lever. It's great for tea, coffee and really really hot water. They're absurdly expensive, which I didn't realize until I had to replace the first one. I feel a little guilty about the energy use, but it's one of those little luxuries I appreciate each time I use it.
Last night the lever popped off, and being the handy gal I am, I took it apart to fix it. It's a puzzle with a number of tiny screws, rings, gaskets and such, but I've done it before and it's pretty easy. Unless you drop one of the crucial little specialized screws down into the little hole where it lodges just out of reach of tweezers, needle-nose pliers, sewing needles, sticky tape and the poultry skewer, my go-to tool for the trickiest repairs. Fiddling with various screws and nuts, I loosened the wrong one and set off a high-pressure geyser of water that hit the ceiling and sprayed all over the kitchen. We were instantly drenched - thankfully it wasn't the really really hot water. I frantically turned off all the various water handles under the sink (hmm - maybe I should have done that first) and surveyed the disaster scene. I sat in the puddle on the floor and started to laugh, frightening Henry even further.
Everything was soaked. There was an inch of water in all the McCoy vases on the shelves, paint literally peeled off the window sill, all the little pieces of paper held by magnets on the fridge were ruined, my cookbooks got sprayed, you name it. At least the african violets appreciated it.
The geyser did have the desired effect of pushing the little screw out. After everything was dried off, put back and the walls wiped down, I set about fixing the Insta-Hot again. And promptly dropped the screw into the little hole again.
At least I can say my floor is clean now.
I got Henry pretty good with this one.
I told him we were starting a new all-vegetable diet: no sugar, no dairy, no butter, which cuts out about 50% of his food intake.
His face fell as he started to work through it, though he did pick up a carrot and start chewing.
I know he's working on something for me for this evening. Luckily he's not very good at keeping a straight face.
He took a zucchini in his backpack for an April Fool's snack in class.
I'm learning how to live
without you
in my life
I'll take the best of what you had to give
I'll make the most of what you left me with
I'm learning how to live
They say the best is still yet to come
but the taste of you is still on my tongue
I can't forget and I won't even try
to erase your image and the way you made me cry
I'm learning how to live
All I have left is this dimestore ring
But I wouldn't trade it for anything
The days ahead will never be the same
For you I might have even changed my name
I'm learning how to live
without you
in my life
click to play
This is for the lovely Cindy, who I miss knitting with.
Melissa's Pad Thai
The "secret" ingredient in this is jarred Pad Thai sauce - it's the only way this recipe can be made on a school night. You're welcome to make your own, though it's not easy to find tamarind powder.
The p.t. sauce is also hard to come by - when you find it, buy a couple jars. You also need to get rice sticks (noodles) - it really doesn't work with wheat noodles.
Ingredients
package of rice noodles
sesame oil
peanut or other oil (not olive)
3 eggs
4 skinless chicken thighs or breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
(You could also use shrimp, beef or pork, or none of these)
package of firm or extra firm tofu
bunch of scallions, chopped
chopped garlic
pad thai sauce, 8 oz jar
bunch of cilantro, chopped
cup of alfalfa sprouts
1/2 cup peanuts, chopped
lime wedges
Thai chili sauce (or similar hot stuff)
Soak the noodles in hot water for at least 1/2 hour (while you're prepping everything else). Chop the cilantro and peanuts while everything else is cooking.
Heat a tablespoon of each oil in a large wok or frying pan. Crack in the eggs and scramble into small pieces. Remove the eggs to a plate and throw in the chicken or other meat. Stir-fry til cooked through, remove to the egg plate or a separate one (this is a dish-intensive recipe).
Add the scallions and tofu, cut into bite-sized pieces. Stir-fry til slightly browned, adding more oil if necessary. Add the garlic toward the end so it doesn't burn. Remove all to another bowl.
Drain the noodles - they should be softened but still firm. Throw them into the pan and stir in the pad thai sauce and a half of cup of hot water. Cover the pan and let them cook for awhile, til they're al dente.
Throw the egg, chicken/meat, tofu/scallion mixture, cilantro and sprouts into the noodles and incorporate as much as possible. (If the noodles are too sticky, I add a little rice vinegar, sesame oil or water.)
Serve immediately, garnished with the peanuts, lime juice and chili sauce. I like to use chopsticks for authenticity and offer Thai beer.
Get someone else to do the dishes.
courtesy of Illiana's Corner
Emergency
knitting is the equivalent of the magazines my sister keeps in the back
seat of her car, the Hot Wheels in my son's backpack, the pocket flask
in a friend's coat. It's a security blanket for knitters.
Emergency knitting tends to be a sock, a hat, a mitten. Something small and portable that can be stashed in a pocket for those times when you have to wait. For me, this tends to be soccer practice (and even during the games: bad soccer mom!), a doctor's office, or the interminable wait before the animated kid's matinee starts.
Typical of many security objects, I don't need to actually get it out: it's the idea that it's there that helps. I've been known to run into my stash at the last minute and grab a skein and a pair of needles with no idea what I'm going to knit, just to have them "in case."
So my latest emergency knitting is washcloths. I know, how tacky and uncreative. But I'm off socks at the moment, after the socks that took a year to finish. And I love the intricate pattern options washcloths offer. It's a pure little swatch of rhythmic knotted fiber, and in the end, useful too! Very soothing simple "emergency" knitting. No shaping, no counting, just the repeated motions of needle and yarn, in, out, around and through.
You could group knitters into two categories: color or pattern people. I've always been a pattern person: moss, seed, cables, guernsey, linen, bamboo, basket weave, brioche, entrelac, even the humble garter. (Though I'm not brave enough to tackle lace.) My mother is a color knitter: intarsia and fair isle. I took a tentative dip into color knitting with the infamous Latvian Wristers. It's a window into a whole new path I may explore at some time in the future.
I know that to non-knitters, the idea of knitting as an endeavor that offers contradicting directions, in-depth challenges and new landscapes to explore sounds ludicrous. But it is. So there.
Say it loud: I knit and I'm proud.
the humble knitted cotton washcloth
I'll have you know I was once really hip. I networked at Area with Jerry Rubin in NYC in the 80's (you had to be there), frequented underground after-hours clubs in LA, danced til 10 am at a gay club in SF, did the rave thing. And I'm not a klutz. I took dance and taught advanced step aerobics for years. Really. I'm cool. However, I suck at Dance Dance Revolution.
First of all, there's clearly something wrong with the program. I step on the right arrow exactly when it shows the right arrow and I always get an "almost" or "boo." And when I dial down to beginner and start to get it right, the whole thing resembles a Frankenstein stomp in slo-mo. When does the "dancing" part come in?
Henry and I tried to double-team it: he took the left and up arrows, I took the right and down. We were pathetic. Meanwhile, on screen, they're gyrating and hip-hopping and krumping the moves. Us, we're just stomping around lamely and clueless and off the (non-existent) beat.
This is obviously a video game for people who have too much time on their hands (aren't they all). However, though I appear to have no funk in my trunk, I'm going to keep trying to crack this code. Anyone know of a Dance Dance tutor?
This is not me.
is right here:
So many choices! So many colors! So many applications! The mind boggles. Seriously, I love this site so much I'm looking around my home trying to figure out what else I can strap.
Nylon, polyester, polypropylene? Light, medium or heavyweight? Raspberry, camo or zebra print? D-rings, slides, snaphooks, cam buckles... I'm in heaven.
Thanks for the ideas and offers. I think I've found Strap Central.
Well, for all you people who thought this might be an exciting bondage post (or is it just me whose mind travels along those paths?), this will be a disappointment because it's about KNITTING! Peripherally at least.
As you may remember, I painstakingly knit my big sis an entrelac purse um, a few months ago. Knitted, felted, blocked. But months later, it's still awaiting a strap. We agreed that a webbing strap might be most comfortable (neck issues) and I found a purse strap set all ready to go with nice hardware. But it wasn't adjustable, and I couldn't figure out how to sew the rings on without a bunch more work. Let me just say here that I'm really tired of looking at this purse.
So, inspired by my nylon briefcase, I decided to go get the adjustable ring hardware and do it that way. After hours on the internet ("she has no life!"), I found out the thing above was called a tri-glide, a center-bar, a rectangular slider, or a number of other labels, and you can buy them from buckleman.com. Not wanting to pay $7 shipping on a .45 cent item and wait, I went out to find one, and FOUR STORES later, I'm admitting defeat.
Popped into Joann Fabric and came up empty on the hardware, though props for the large webbing selection. At Michaels Crafts, nothing even close. Home Depot had industrial tie-downs that seemed a bit much. I then had a brainwave and hit Sportsman's Warehouse to find backpack straps/buckles. [Note: I'm always a bit apprehensive walking into a store that has on its signage: "Camping, Outerwear, Reloading."] They had a huge amount of bizarre and arcane implements of mass destruction, and actually came close to a buckle repair thing, but not really. So I gave up.
So, Susan, I apologize, but I'm now going to have to order on line and hope for the best.
OK, no more badgers, at least til next week. Unless they spring a surprise visit, which they like to do.
Going down the requests list, how about a puppy? Or a small pony of a dog with puppy brain?
This is Fida (feminine for Fido, get it?).
She's my friend Mary's dog who visits us on weekends, along with Mary. She's huge - incredibly long and flexible, but is still a puppy through and through. A furry black tornado swirling through the house, picking up various random items in her path.
Given that Flash intensely dislikes other dogs, we were worried about his reaction at first, and he did nip her a few times to put her in her place. But he's realized she comes with Mary, who he loves, so he tolerates her. Actually, he doesn't tolerate her, she just doesn't exist to him. They live in parallel universes. Flash senses a disturbance in the force, but carefully ignores her physical presence.
It's a good approach. If annoying things won't go away, just decide they don't exist.
1. My mom's leftover pad thai, without shrimp. She makes the best.
2. Pesto.
3. Pancakes or french toast with butter and syrup.
4. Frozen egg rolls in the microwave.
5. Eggs sunny-side up with bacon.
6. Cereal. My favorite is Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
7. Oatmeal. With cinnamon sugar.
8. Egg McMuffins. Only the ones on the biscuits.
9. Biscuits and gravy!
10.And my mom's steamed vanilla milk with all of it.
Biscuits and gravy, Seattle 2008
Today's OCBP*
This is Clyde, who is coming out of torpor and is a little cranky. The badger-wrangler is the other Melissa here.
*Obligatory Cute Badger Photo
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