A Crueler Month

Greetings from a slightly sodden southeastern Wisconsin.  This year’s weather continues to be bipolar–it’s either dry as bone or wet as a marsh, warm or chilly, and rarely the twain meets.  It’s frustrated my thoughts about possibly doing some kind of herb garden this year, considering the yard was finally cleared only three weeks ago.  That, and we have a giant plastic Tupperware-type shed in the backyard, taking up a good deal of space; the problem with our end of town is that the front yards are considerably larger than the back ones (which leads me to fear that the kiddos playing might run into the street in front of my car).  Maybe I can do a couple pots on the front porch or something.  For someone who comes from a long line of farmers, this is not very impressive.

It has been good knitting weather, and I have finally, finally, finished untangling the Schaefer Anne, then started a sock pattern only to find that it was going to make a fabric far too dense for the time of year for which I’d intended these socks.  Fourth of July and slip stitch and yours truly do not combine well.  Moving forward on Sidewinders requires me to wait for the needles I ordered, so right now I only have one active knit project.  What’s wrong with me?  At least my computer’s fixed.

It’s been good reading weather too, and I’ve got a whole pile of books that I’ve finished or started or haven’t got to yet.  I’ve had this problem ever since I was young; I go to the library and my eyes are bigger than my stomach…or maybe my brain, or my optic nerves.  I wish I could read and knit at the same time, but I doubt that to be really feasible for me.  Everything leisure seems to cut into everything else leisure.

By the way, for those of you who are cocktail fans–AJ Rathbun’s Good Spirits is seriously the best book of drinks I have ever had the chance to read.  I can only imagine what this guy’s liquor cabinet looks like.  Please, of course, drink responsibly.

 

Mr. Taxman, Bring Me a Dream

You know you’re a bad updater when your brother tells you to update your blog.  (Hi, Lane.)  Sigh.

Anyhow, the weather here has finally, finally improved, lifting everyone’s spirits.  I’ve finished a few knitting projects and was actually inspired to make some cookies over the weekend without prompting…though that might be less the weather and more the fact that my personal comp flatlined on Saturday morning.  In the meantime, I have to find other things to amuse myself, like the Zen exercise that is balling a skein of Schaefer Anne.

Today’s not only gorgeous out, it is also Tax Day here in the US, which for those of us who finished ours six weeks ago is a source of amusement and for those who didn’t is a source of sheer panic.  I went to the library yesterday for a book for aforementioned brother and was nearly run over by several middle-aged professional males heading for the tax forms in deadtree format.  I don’t know if they’re Luddites or paranoid or what, but we’ve done our taxes on the computer for nearly a decade.  My grandparents are the only people I know who don’t, and they go to a CPA, for crying out loud.  The best part is watching the news when they go down to the main post office downtown where all the people are standing in line.  Heck, you might as well e-file after all that trouble, even with the cost.

Ah well, either way, it’s one of those constants, as is the fact that I’ve already managed to spend most of my refund this year on car repairs.  I suppose it’s good for the economy or something.  Anyone got a good cocktail idea for Tax Day?  Mebbe a vodka gimlet for that light green shade.

What would you like me to write about next?  Drop a comment and we’ll talk.  I’m running low on ideas; I do have a lot of Angry, but it’s just too nice out to complain much.

 

All the Small Things

Has it been nearly a month already?  Lord, I’m rubbish.  My apologies.  Either I forget things actually happen, or I start to write a post in my head and it never makes it to the computer.  I read the (deadtree format) collection Ultimate Blogs last week and got sort of inspired but also somewhat disheartened, because I’m not nearly as witty as some people, or as fired up, either.

Bah.

Anyhow, welcome to everyone who’s come from the Smith alum directory.  It’s a very good idea, I think, for intarweb stalkage purposes (e.g. that girl has a blog?  THAT GIRL?).  I’ve been blogging/online journaling since 1999, actually, which occasionally boggles my mind.  In May, my good ol’ first public email address turns ten, for that matter.  If we ever had to do without the Internet, a la S.M. Stirling’s novels, I would probably curl up into a little ball and die.  Or start training carrier pigeons.  My mother would love that.

From what I gather, March has pretty much stunk for everyone except my mother.  Among the things I’ve had to deal with: the media’s aboutface when it comes to Obama, programs going haywire at work, the Favre retirement issue, and the latest debacle–a transmission fluid leak courtesy of the people at my mechanic’s not putting things back together right a couple weeks ago.

Oh, and Berroco Peruvia.  (For the uninformed, this is yarn.)  I should have listened to ELD when she told me to try about five other yarns first, back at Ruhama’s sale in February.  But did I?  No, I got suckered in by the squishy and soft poor-man’s-Malabrigo factor.  Now all the ripping back that’s going on (due to my inability to properly think through Jesh’s Simon Tam pattern) means I’m afraid I’m going to pull the stuff apart like I did when I did the tubular cast-on.

At least I’ve managed to invent a wicked drink recipe, but I don’t really have a name for it…it’s 1/2 part Rose’s lime, 1 1/2 parts vodka, 3 parts pomegranite juice cocktail, and 1 part Sprite.  Name ideas are welcome.  I get the feeling I may make a lot here in March.

 

Snow Hostage

In the time since my last post, the weather has progressively worsened, to the point where nearly everyone in the Great Lakes region has some form of Seasonal Affective Disorder, manifesting in general crankiness.  So that’s my excuse for not writing: the weather has smushed me under its thumb and left me as a broken young woman on the slushy road of life.  Our hearts here are not filled with love for our fellow human, today or anytime soon…

Crap, I was totally going to crochet a bunch of wee red hearts this year.  Argh.

Between that and the presidential primary next week, they’ve got plenty to talk about on the news, so the whole rest of the world could be under attack from a pretentious giant sea monster and all we’d know about was the WGA strike being over.  Which, though I supported the strikers, is a good thing.  Reality television of the throw-a-bunch-of-people-together-for-money genre makes me want to cry; my mental image of purgatory is being the poor sap that has to edit that.

Haven’t done much (read: any) cooking lately, but I have read Nigella Lawson’s latest, Nigella Express.  It’s beautifully photographed, as usual, and also a decent read.  I can’t quite figure out what I like so much about Nigella, to be honest, save maybe that her writing seems to be frank and domestic without being excessively cute, and considers American food availability* without much disdain.  She also has a fine appreciation of alcohol.

There need to be more knitting books in the Nigella vein, I think–images, technique, and a slice of life.  Mason Dixon Knitting is pretty close, and The Yarn Harlot is like it without the pikturs, but other than that, I can’t really think of anything recent.  Admittedly, knitting is far more of a niche market than cooking.  There’s not a Fiber Arts Network, and yarn consumption isn’t something that must be done regularly for every human’s survival.

By the way, I’m sort of appalled that Julie and Julia is becoming a movie with Meryl Streep and Amy Adams.  Not that I don’t wish Julie Powell the best, but Hollywood’s really mining every last book they can, aren’t they?

 

The Bigger Chill

Yours truly returned from points British to find Wisconsin had sunk into a deep freeze, one which has thawed now, but is expected to flash freeze itself like a Swanson dinner tomorrow night.  I was less shocked by this than I expected, mostly because it seemed like I’d travelled to early April and stayed two weeks before coming back to January.  That said, I didn’t enjoy being back in the cold (or, you know, being without my boyfriend, sadly).  As we have the benefit of central heating, it made me wonder what kind of shock the weather was for my ancestors, who came from Buckinghamshire to eastern MA in 1690.

It’s a wonder I got here, I suppose.

Anyhow, there will be a post forthcoming about knitting, a post forthcoming on books, and a post forthcoming about being an American eating in the UK (featuring my thoughts on the British obsession with malt, the wonders of chicken tikka marsala, and of course an ode to Irn Bru).  Stay tuned.

Oh, and go Team Obama.

 

Provided You Are Contrary…

I realised today that yours truly, who took competitive civics (in the fall-winter of ‘00-’01, no less) and AP US Government in high school,* has no clue what happens at the Iowa caucuses, in terms of process.  None.  This is a little scary, as I consider myself at least slightly educated, and this is a rather important event.

So when I heard about it on the radio this week, I was completely boggled.  The truth is probably that your average citizen doesn’t care how it works as long as it does and someone gets whatever place.  But since the whole process strikes me as completely off-kilter, I’m providing a link to a FAQ about the Iowa caucuses.

What that FAQ doesn’t mention is that, in an odd reversal, the Democrats’ caucus process makes NO SENSE.  It consists of standing in different parts of the room and badgering  people from different parts of the room into supporting your part of the room…er, candidate.  Then the organizers decide which candidates are ‘viable’ and then the supporters who aren’t can pick a viable part of the room, or merge and make one of their candidates viable.

So, in a nutshell, the Republicans write things down on a wee ballot.  The Democrats play a game of political Red Rover.  And this has all come about in the last forty years.  Riiiight.  Your political system at work!

At least you don’t have to worry about hanging chads.  Just castigating Chad for doggedly supporting Kucinich.**

* Other things I did in high school: a production of The Music Man.  I spared you all from more than the subject line, when it comes to giving Iowa a try.
** This blogger would stand in the Obama part of the room. As it were, I hope to simply mark a ballot.

 

All Made of Ticky-Tacky

Amidst world chaos and a vague sort of thaw, we are now moved.  Go us!  (Though really, mostly what I did was packing–the moving was done by others as I, uh, tragically had to work.)  Pictures will be forthcoming, I’m sure, eventually, provided the people from the cable company do their job this morning and don’t skive off because it’s snowing today.

…which is why I didn’t need to come into WP and see it snowing here as well.  I’m sure it’s festive if you’re in, say, San Francisco, but considering our snowfall totals here in WI this December are substantially above two feet (and growing by the moment out there), I’ll pass.  And will hum Pete Seeger.

Anyhow, yours truly hasn’t had much happen besides the move–I’ve read a few books that I should tell you readers, the Nameless Faceless Masses (NFM), about, namely Charles Stross’ latest, which is still fantastic even though the plot has just twisted like a Klein bottle.  Foodblogging will be non-existent probably until February, as you don’t want to know what the kitchen looks like right now, unless I can track down somewhere in Glasgow that still does fried Mars bars. Everywhere I asked back in ‘05 didn’t, it gums up their fryers–if you have a recommendation, please let me know.

On the knitfront, I bought some inexpensive goldenrod-colored yarn (Lion Brand–real wool, though, and on sale!) to sort out the detailing on my brother’s fingerless gloves, which he really liked.  The embroidery floss just wasn’t flying; I can knit socks, but anything with one needle is just too fiddly, and you have to do it neatly because it’s light on a dark background, and…ugh.

I also got some crystal beads so that I can whip up Ice Queen as a stashbuster,* though I don’t know if I’ll keep it as it’s not the kind of thing I wear.  I am not a bead person nor a cowl person.  Maybe I’ll give it to my grandmother as a belated birthday gift.

So, NFM, tell me about your plans for New Year’s!

* What else am I supposed to do with that one skein of  laceweight merino that I bought on a whim a year and a half ago, at a store that no longer exists?

 

Merry Ain’t In My Vocabulary

Despite being an agnostic, I must confess that I am keen on certain bits and pieces of Christmas; I was raised with it and it’s just…well, one of those things.  Maybe it’s just that I’m tired of eating off disposable dishware, but this Christmas is decidedly lacking in oomph.  Bah humbug.

The holiday knitting has progressed, by the by; I’m nearly done with the brotherly item (Lane, if you’re reading this, you better appreciate it).  Which is one of those four things that I learned this holiday season: how to do Magic Loop, how to make hot buttered rum, that there can be a version of ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ that is not putrid,* and how to have Too Much Crap.  Oh, and the pleasure of not going to the mall after the end of November.

So now I’m amusing myself by trying to think of movies, films, books, shows, theatre…any story that has a holiday as a substantial plot point but is NOT in the ’holiday’ genre.  Mostly, I’ve come up with RENT (thus the subject of this post), Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, A Little Princess, and the Laura Ingalls Wilder book The Long Winter.  Can anyone think of anything else?  (As a kid who came of age with Home Alone, I don’t quite see that as a Christmas movie, mostly because it was so culturally pervasive, but I won’t list that here.)

As for explicitly holiday genre, A Christmas Story beats everything.  With a compass in the stock.

* John Mellencamp in the A Very Special Christmas series.  You won’t believe it ’til you hear it.

 

Igloo-Building for Dummies

Things around here have been rather mad lately, between life and the weather, but I thought I’d get to answering the questions of You, The Readership before I completely skivved off on them due to the ungodly equation of S = (h+M) if M = (m^n).* So, without further ado:

Lism asks: If I wanted to take up a bit of knitting, where would be a good place to start?
I have to put in a plug for Stitch and Bitch by Debbie Stoller as a great book for smartass feminist types to start to learn knitting. It’s good to have on hand for all the basics. Knitty.com has great patterns for people of all skill levels, and interesting articles as well.
For Lism in particular, the women in the Glasgow city knits group on Teh Rav note that K1 Yarns in the West End and John Lewis in Buchanan Galleries are the best and most accessible yarn retailers in the city.

Eryn asks: Have you ever scrapped the ice with your driver’s license/credit card/ID? and If train A leaves the station at 10:00 a.m. traveling 60 mph and train B leaves the station at 11:45 a.m. at 80 mph, what color is George Washington’s white horse?
Actually, I haven’t, though I did ruin my second college ID trying to card open my door, back in ‘05. Calling Public Safety was far too much of a PITA.
As for the second question, African or European?

Yulinka asks: Will you be blogging about cold weather-worthy cooking?
Yes, I will, in due course, and my apologies for neglecting my foodblogging friends–December, however, has been a crapshoot of late. Actually, I’ve been meaning to blog about my recipe for hot buttered rum, considering our hellish weather lately. It has a soporific effect, so be warned, but it is quite tasty.

To make one mugful, melt together:
- 1/2 Tbsp. butter (7.5 g)
- a few cinnamon redhots
- 2 tsp. (10 g) brown sugar
Stir this to make somewhat of a paste in the bottom of your mug.
Heat 6 oz. (150 mL) of water to near boiling, then add to the mug and stir very well. Wait a moment or two so that the water isn’t too hot, then add 1 oz (25 mL) of spiced rum, e.g.Captain Morgan, and stir again.
Serve immediately.

LadyJayde asks both me and Eryn: Have you broken said license/credit card/ID on ice?
Fraid not, though the above-mentioned ID was in quite a state afterwards. It got to the point where the library staffers had to paste a new barcode on.

Thanks for all the questions, and feel free to ask more, or comment as you like.  Also, a happy holiday or at least day off to all (however many that may be) of my readers!

*Stress equals holiday plus move, if move equals mess to the nth degree.

 

The White Stuff

Those who say they like snow or miss snow, and have never dealt with scraping windshields and driving on messy streets, have absolutely no recourse for their statements and should be subject to scorn posthaste.  And they can scrape off my windshield.  And deal with three, count them, three snows in a week-long period.

Milwaukee County totally fell down on the plowing thing.  I’m sorry, but the ‘there was additional lake effect snow at 4 AM’ bit doesn’t quite cover the rubbishness this morning.  They usually do really well, and I was disappointed in them.

Really, we here in the upper Midwest like to pretend we know about bad weather.  (We do.  Just not in comparison to say, the Yukon.  We tend to get a little righteous about it, too, hence the above.)  It seems to be worse lately, though, swinging from one extreme to the other, and if I needed more evidence that something like global warming is up with the planet, that’d be plenty.

I mean, if it’s not global warming or something we’ve done, then what is it?  Aliens?  The wrath of the Global Standard Deity?

Oh, and for fun: Comment and ask me a question.  If it’s within the bounds of propriety, I’ll answer it in my next post.  You know you wanna.