I'm hot and cold on Martha Stewart's' recipes. Sometimes they work for me; most of the time they don't. But the Apple Honey Challah on the back page of this month's Living made me want to lick the picture right off of the page.*
The doctor makes a note on Landsman's chart. "Are you currently under the care of a psychiatrist or taking any medication for depression?"
"Depression? I seem depressed to you?"
"It's really just a word," the doctor says. "I'm looking at possible symptoms. From what Inspector Dick has told me, and from my examination of you, it seems at least possible that you might possibly have some kind of mood disorder."
"You aren't the first person to say that," Landsman says. "I'm sorry to have to break that to you."
"Are you taking medication?"
"No, not really."
"No. I don't want to."
"You don't want to?
"I'm, you know. Afraid I might lose my edge."
"That explains the drinking, then," the doctor says. His words seem tinged with a sardonic whiff of licorice. "I hear it does wonders for one's edge....In my experience, Detective Landsman, if I may....the people who worry about losing their edge, often they fail to see they already lost the blade a long time ago."
Back when Cory was a toddler, I promised Maddy that we would get a dog, something that she has wanted for years and years, after her brother was potty trained. My reasoning was that I was only willing to pick up so much poop during any given week.
Here it is, blocking in my bathtub:
And reclining over the stair rail:
And showing off its wrong side on the window seat:
The yarn is Debbie Bliss Cashmerino -- did I mention that this is a gift for one of my best friends who is having her first baby and that I was willing to spare no expense because she's also a knitter? -- The pattern you know. I did it mostly as written, except for an added stripe of a different purple when I ran out of the purple it should have been.
It's a charmingly lovely pattern and all that garter stitch was exactly what I needed during the early part of the summer. Picking up stitches for the next block provides enough interest to keep you going, even though those last few rectangles, which are huge, can be a bit of a drag. I have no idea how the Harlot got through a grown-up sized moderne. My needles salute her.
And now we -- and by "we," I mean "I" -- enter that waiting-for-the-baby phase. Sadly, T-wa, the mom-to-be, is in Pittsburgh and I am not. Still, there are planes and I will get there to offer support and snuggles in addition to hand-knits.
The Diva and camp update: she made it until 10 p.m. last night, then Scott had to fetch her. Which is a pretty good run, frankly. Plus she was rarin' to go back this morning. I'm calling it a qualified success.
Now, many things:
* 15 rules to live by.
* Annie Leibovitz still behaves like an addict.
* I was wondering about this very question when I was driving through the Adirondacks a few weeks ago.
* On Sept. 8, The Diva will go back to school, which means that I will be forced to pack lunches. While these Gluten-free tips are helpful, they don't solve the larger problem of dealing with a child who has Celiac and is extraordinarily picky. *sigh* In just a few short years, she can start packing her own lunch, right?
* "That's right. People made of pipes."
* Local donates cow to Roxbury school. This is a good thing. If I had a cow, I'd donate it to the Diva's school.
* If I cared about my hair enough to dye it (actually, I care a great deal but lack the will to maintain a dye job), I'd use this evaluation of off-the-shelf kits as a starting point.
* Julie Powell on the way her cat was portrayed in Julie and Julia.
* I haven't made it all the way through this myself but it is a great (if depressing) read: Matt Taibbi on the Great American Bubble Machine aka Goldman Sachs.
* Last thing, since this list is growing out of control: He can't be all four.
This morning, I dropped the Diva off for her first ever sleepaway camp. She should enjoy 40+ hours of nothing but horses -- and we are fully prepared to pick her up in the small hours should she not be able to sleep at said sleepaway camp and to return her on Tuesday morning so that the fun can continue.
From the local almost-daily: you don't know what you have until it's (almost) gone.
"I base most of my fashion taste on what doesn't itch."
As much as I love Anthony Bourdain, No Reservations has really been boring me lately. It's the same (if gorgeously shot) schtick each week. The episodes just sat in our DVR's queue for weeks, until we ran out of more exciting things to watch.
This is too lovely to save for a "many things" post: Barney Frank asks the question we've all been dying to ask.