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February 2009
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April 2009

many things make a post

* While I do think Catherine Price's essay at Slate about a surfeit of turnips and kiwi,** the bit that really gets me is the concept of a CSA delivering produce all year round. The mind boggles that there are places where things grow during March. It is like Oz.

* I have two beloved gray wool sweaters. One is dying a death of a thousand snags and will require a handmade replacement. The other simply has worn through at the left elbow, which I could patch somehow. I'm thinking about felting. There's not enough of the elbow left to felt it back together a la this tutorial but I could make some felt, maybe, and felt it in? Thoughts? Or would a picture help?

* Ann Bauer's essay on her son's autism leaves me at a loss for the right words. All that comes to mind is "wow." The truth is always more difficult, yes, but necessary.

* With apologies to my husband, it's hard to take golf seriously as a sport when guys who look like this can do well.

* Sometimes we all need to true our wheels.

* These two tattoos (1, 2) remind me that I should reread To Kill a Mockingbird. I don't think I knew enough to appreciate it when I was forced to read it in high school.

* Darn you Purl for posting projects I want to make. This week's is the Sunny Tied Quilt.


** I can no longer eat kiwi, btw, because I once read a passage that compared them to hairy testicles. Makes it hard to jam a spoon in there.

actual knitting content, autumn leaves

I spent most of the morning hoping that the light would improve so that these pictures looked OK. My hope was in vain. In fact, it was snowing a little bit ago. Love March. Love. It. *


I've made it this far -- ballpoint pen provided for scale -- on Eunny Jang's Tangled Yoke Cardigan. Love this pattern. Love. It.**

I love the faux seam, which is just a reverse stockinette stitch. I love the waist shaping. I also love the ribbing.


What's starting to get to me is all of the stockinette -- but I have to admit that it is perfect for TV watching. And extra special perfect for guilty pleasure TV watching like RuPaul's Drag Race.

I know.

I'm just about to stop on the body to start the sleeves. I'm probably going to make them a few inches longer, just because I have freakishly long arms. I'll keep you posted.

* I don't. That was sarcasm.

** I do. This isn't sarcasm.

shameless self-promotion, 308 and 309 in a series

* Earlier this week, I had the honor of talking about Mary Tudor to Brenda Dayne, the most excellent host of the podcast Cast-On. It was a hoot, which seems to come across in the interview. Give it a listen, should you be in the right frame of mind to think about magnum opuses (um, opi?).

* From the local almost-daily: proof that my children are well-behaved, just not with me.

In other news, we appear to have sold our house. I'm a little surprised, too.

qotd, nose flute edition

And on the day that I die, when I am asked if I have any regrets, I will whisper, "I never got to learn how to blow a flute out of my nose" and I will snicker to myself, even as no one around me knows what the hell I'm talking about. Yes, I will have squandered my last words in the service of referencing an obscure reality-TV moment, but it will have been worth it. I can only hope that as my last breath escapes me, I have the strength to jab a recorder up my nose so I expire with a strong B-flat.

-- From Josh Wolk's recap of this week's Amazing Race.

more crafty stuff

While sugaring off over the weekend, the Pie Goddess and I wandered through the new house on the Farmer's Museum grounds. Well, I wandered. She gimped.

Regardless, this exhibit is devoted to the domestic arts of the late 1800s and features a mind-boggling array of irons and mangles and dress forms. But what caught my eye was the cross stitch, which the picture below does a horrid job of capturing:


Still, something about it speaks to me. Not that I need a "Holy Bible" bookmark -- I'm not even sure there's a bible in my house -- but I can just picture a homesteader stitching away by the feeble candlelight as snowstorm whipped up outside. Which seems both romantic and, frankly, horrifying.

Maybe in 100 years one of my handmade items (this one, maybe. Or this one.) will be on display in some museum somewhere for future women to wax rhapsodic about.

(This was the dishwasher in the house across the street, which don't have a comment for, just like the picture.)

Speaking of crafty things, my old college pal Callie mentioned The Harveyville Project *to me. I'm ready to pack my bags right now -- but might have to wait until Fall, at the earliest, since this summer is booking up fast, what with weddings and conferences (Montreal!) and moving.

* Harveyville reminded me that I *still* want to take a class or teach at the John C. Campbell Folk School. I'm told it's an amazing experience.

actual knitting content, two skeins of Noro sock

What do you do when you fall in love with a sock yarn but really aren't in the mood to knit socks? You make a stole.


This was my carry-along project during most of the winter. It's been done for a few weeks but I had to wait for a decent day to block it. And by decent, I mean above freezing. Don't let the sunshine fool you.


The inspiration came from Knit Drink Tink via ravelry. I only made one real mod, which was to add beads.


The wrap wanted some weight at the ends and beads seemed like a better choice than barbells.

The full length shot:


To be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do with this, simply because I knit it just to knit it. I am not a big wearer-of-shawls. Still. It's pretty, if I do say so myself. Which I do.

many things make a post

* These just sound yummy: Honeyed Cashews. Now I have to figure out where to get raw nuts. Heh. Raw nuts.

* Also on the food tip - if I had to choose between bacon and caramelized onions, the onions would win every time.

* Stolen from Gwenda: The periodic table of type.

* I might have to make a giant granny square. How great are those colors?

* More on author photos.

* I'm sorely tempted by Mason Jar terrariums. However, I fear that mine would simply become a haven for various slime molds and scary smells. I have a knack for neglecting plants. It is my superpower.

* I nearly wet myself: Memo from the C.E.O.

* I'm ambivalent about what happened to Bob Lord while he was playing The Game.** I am, however, ticked off about what happened to the rats, who didn't consent to becoming part of a wealthy man's fantasy.

* Speaking of outrage, Matt Taibbi's take on AIG in Rolling Stone. Best lede ever. (Stolen from Dave) And best closing graf ever: "These people were never about anything except turning money into money, in order to get more money; valueswise they're on par with crack addicts, or obsessive sexual deviants who burgle homes to steal panties. Yet these are the people in whose hands our entire political future now rests. Good luck with that, America. And enjoy tax season."

* To wash the taste of that out of your brain: "Sugar" is a verb.


** Would I be outraged about his fate if AIG, etc., hadn't happened? Eh. Dunno. Still, there's a certain amount of hubris involved here.

sugaring off

As we do each year around this time, on Sunday, we sugared off with the Grill Master, the Pie Goddess and their two kids, ages 12 and almost 9.


There were pancakes.


There were moist towlettes, which are de rigueur when one sugars off.


The real fun was outside, tho. The kids ate Jack Wax, which is hot syrup dripped on snow, which makes a taffy-like treat.



Boiling down sap. For the trivia buffs, the ratio is 40 gallons o' sap to 1 gallon syrup.


The Boy's response to the fire:


The lesson of the day in the schoolroom, where the girls made splines and whirligigs.


Cory sat still in the schoolhouse for about 30 seconds before going back out to watch the fire.

The largest change this year is that the Pie Goddess spent the trip being wheeled about because she broke her foot a few weeks ago in order to avoid having dinner with us. (Yes, it is all about me.)


There were signs that we may have survived the worst of the winter.


Those are DAFFODILS, people! Hooray!

And the Boy road the carousel.


There's a little bit more to share that's craft-related. But I'll save that for another post.

Suffice to say, a fine time was had by all.