era's end

It sounds so dramatic, to think that we are standing at the precipice, overlooking the next decade already. I can still remember the drama surrounding the thought of the new millennium, and the welling feeling that great things lay ahead.

Today, at the end of 2010, there is a niggling sense of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the past year, I can't help but feel unfulfilled. If you asked me, I couldn't say that there was any great horrifying event that marred this year for me. Certainly not at the level that many people have to deal with, and for that, I am tremendously thankful. Regardless, I feel as though this year was a series of little disappointments, a lack of progress, and a sense of limbo that has been difficult to shake. I am discontented and frustrated, and it threatens to color my recollection of the year.

Mulling it over with my mother, I mentioned how other friends of mine seemed to have such good years, and she responded with the chestnut that it's human nature to believe other people are happier than ourselves, but in reality, no one is that happy. Now, that's a typically depressing thought from her, but it led me to think further - is it a question of managing expectations? Isn't it true that if we don't expect anything of ourselves, we won't disappoint ourselves either?

Well, yes, but who wants to live like that?

It seems to me that that may just be an excuse to race to the bottom. With no expectations, no hope for achievement, it's true one won't be disappointed, but then there's nothing to inspire ourselves. If we take the paved road that we can see stretching in front of us to the clearly marked destination, things may happen, but it's pure luck. The overall journey, despite that, is completely predictable. You end up where the path said you were going to go. But what if we take the weirdo path that is overgrown and unmarked? It's risky, but possibly rife with great rewards. Unfortunately, the very drive, the striving for something better, naturally ends in at least some sense of defeat for some of the time. After all, no one wins all the time.

What's the answer? It must be a balance between the two - having goals to work towards, and learning to savor the little victories along the way. Self help experts always say you should break down great goals into manageable steps, and there's something to that. Perhaps I haven't changed my life hugely this past year - there are elements that I wanted to change and haven't. But I have managed to accomplish some great things, and I am proud of that. Next year, I'll tackle some other goals, and maybe I'll nail some, and some will surely continue to slide. We'll see.

So, sayonara 2010. You weren't the worst year, and you weren't the best. But I got through you a stronger person, and I'm sure 2011 will be just as challenging. Not because I'm passively allowing things to happen to me, but because I'm looking for that hilly goat track off to the side that hopefully leads to the better view.

The knee high perspective

There's this amazing thing that happens when children in your sphere discover the process of conveying how they see the world to you. It may be in stories, in song, or in interpretive dance. More likely, though, I find that the advent of digital photography, and its attendant freedom from ordinary monetary cost associated with

usage (until your camera finds itself in pieces or in water) means that more and more children are turning into amateur shutterbugs.

My niece Natalie took possession of my camera over Memorial Weekend, and I utterly forgot to look into what she had done with it. Instead, I continued to take my own photos once I regained possession, and only discovered once I hooked it up to the mothership what an adventure she had gone on. It's fascinating to see what she finds worthy of interest, and from what I can tell, she REALLY loves my dogs. (To be honest, I was well aware of that for any number of reasons.) But in addition to revealing her sweetly obsessive interest in documenting the hijinks of my older dog Yukie, her photos are like a little love letter to those things she adores.* Her sister. The backyard. Her flip flops. The dogs. The ball thrower. The garden. Flowers.

It's a good list. I think we should each have one to remind us of the things that bring us happiness.

*To be fair, there were photos of her mom and me, which I have omitted to save the innocent. Also, her dad was away, or surely he would be represented as well.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming

The business of being a bridesmaid is an odd one. I've had two weddings in relatively short succession and been in both of them and they've been distinctly different experiences. There is something to be said for seeing your close friends go through that "wedding day transformation." It's interesting to see how someone you're used to seeing on a daily basis in relatively low key gear get whipped into princessness, much less undergo a similar transformation (though to a much lesser degree, and possibly under a certain degree of duress depending on your tolerance for being beautified). And though it's been fun, I'm happy to declare an ending to my wedding season.

This particular wedding was in Healdsburg, which is an area I've not been to before - and I would genuinely like to go back again. It is really gorgeous, and it seems like there are many adorable boutiques in the main square, including what appeared to be a quilting store. Intriguing!

In other news, I have rounded up a new series of recipes to handle. I am a big fan of the savory egg dish for dinner, and any opportunity to do so should be thoroughly encouraged. So when I found smittenkitchen's recipe for Spring Asparagus Pancetta Hash, I was immediately intrigued. This has led me to realize that I seriously need to master a faster method of dicing vegetables.

prepped - finally.

An hour or so later (okay, I exaggerate, but seriously, stupid potatoes took forever), I was finally ready to cook. Time for walkies for the pups!

mmmm....pork product.

After a pause to feed the puppers, phase II commences - I start the cooking. Note to self: need larger pan, as it took so long to brown the potatoes that we were approaching more of a "giant potato pancake" rather than all the diced potatoes I spend an hour on. See supra. Undaunted, I struggle valiantly on. Despite my best efforts, I proceed to both cook my yolks (grrr, I like them runny) and drop the remaining 6 eggs on the kitchen floor.

The product of my labors - at 10:00 pm.

Was it worth it?

Every bite.

enamored

I am completely infatuated.

Not with anyone, but with this blog I discovered through a backdoor link from another knitting blog - smittenkitchen.com. Honestly, if you're a decent photographer, you have such a jump on getting people sucked into what you talk about, and then if you happen to be talented to boot...my goodness.

Anyhow, so this site has a ton of interesting recipes, mostly adapted from other sources with the cook's twist. I am in love with it. It started with the Apple Cake.

Before

After

Ironically this stemmed from a strange little memory of going to the German Delicatessen over by Logan Square when the whole family got hauled along with my dad to his office on the weekend. It was such a crazy little place - you could get marzipan anything, all these little animals and vegetables, which my sister really liked, but I couldn't stand because I can't deal with marzipan. And then there were all the various sausages (well, it was a German deli after all), including the odd cured sausage shaped like a pretzel (why??), the bratwurst, the knockwurst, the head cheese, etc. Then they had the best chocolate Santas and Easter bunnies, and funny German taffy candies. I adored going there, but the crowds were nuts.

What I remembered at the moment that I came across that recipe was this German Apple Strudel my mum used to make. From a box. That we bought at the deli. I really enjoyed it, but, as my mum informed me when I brought it up, there were no real apples in it. Yeah, all we did was probably add oil or butter. Otherwise it was all dried/preserved/artificial. But in my head it was delicious.

Regardless, here was an opportunity to recapture my youth. Oh sure, I could go and try to google the box mix, but honestly. Better to at least use real apples, right? Anyhow, it was a resounding success despite the inexplicable loss of my tube pan. I swear I had one, but evidently not anymore. Nevertheless, yum! I let it sit outside for about 36 hours, and then started refrigerating it. Leaving it out helped the apple juices soak in, making it a moister cake as opposed to a drier coffee cake. The biggest danger, of course, is to keep from eating it all. My friend, who I swiftly corrupted into making it as well, was not so lucky when making it for her husband and sister, and proceeded to devour her version over the weekend with her accomplices - a distinct risk.

So since trying the Apple Cake, I have since made the Jacked-Up Banana Bread (unjacked, frankly, because I don't have bourbon, and there was no way I was going to buy it just for a quick bread), and tonight, the Shakshuka, which is allegedly poached eggs in spicy tomato sauce to be served with warm pita bread. Despite using the increased pepper dosage (Anaheims, not Jalapenos) mine turned out not-so-poached, and not-so-spicy. Also, forgot to buy the feta. OK, so in other words I completely botched it - it's really just eggs in a tomato-pepper stew. Not bad, but not exotic either.

Oh man, shakshuka.

So next time - I have a bunch of knitting to share. Plenty of FOs, including the wedding shawls (one for the bride, and one for me), and Mama socks. Also, the world's most ineptly sized sock for my dad. Yeah, he's going to have to wait for that one.

multiplying

Lately I have these incidents where I see things and think, oh, that would make a good post, but then find myself handicapped by an inability to remember it by the time I get home. You see, in an effort to maintain proper distance between my workplace (not an appropriate blogging location) and anywhere else (blogging-friendly locale), I have concluded that this is why people twitter. But also it has made me contemplate that this is how people start to/continue to lose that filter between brain and mouth, or in this case, fingertips. It's important, really, to remember that not everything you find remarkable (in its most pure form, meaning worth of remarking about) actually is. I find that many problems can be traced to that same root - that people frequently fail to pause and consider whether what they are about to say is important, appropriate, or adds value. Along the same lines, it makes me wonder if saying someone is calculating is really the pejorative that people automatically think it is. Perhaps it is just noting that someone takes the time to calculate the weight of their words - which is not such a bad thing.

Ahem. That was random - sorry.

Now to completely fly in the face of the above, I will return to the original purpose of this post, which was to wonder if there is some new trend in the world regarding bikes with strangely high handlebars. I wish I had a picture - I will try to remember to take one later on - but there has been a bike for some time in my garage with these crazy high handlebars. They start in the same place as normal ones, but then after they split into the right and left sides they extend for at least 1.5 feet before terminating in handles. At first there was only the one, but today I noticed for the first time a second one. They're multiplying! My thought is that they must be more ergonomically friendly or something, but isn't that what those odd reclining bikes are for? Maybe this is the cheap man's version. Despite this, I have never actually seen one in use, so I can't tell.

teal time

a lone monkey sock

in Dream in Color Smooshy Sock yarn

US 2 needles (DPN)

I have been distinctly delinquent in blogging, mostly because I couldn't be bothered to take appropriate pictures. Also, because evidently I need to use a tripod, as I appear to continually have the shakes based on the number of out of focus photos I take. However, crafting has been proceeding prodigiously, which means I have all sorts of FOs to share but have not documented. That said, there have certainly been sightings of various items in their native habitats. To wit:

- My first pair of socks emerged from the needles sometime last week, rising from the ashes of marathon Olympic ice skating viewing. Question: since when have all the men skated with gloves on? I don't remember this trend.

- I finally finished weaving in the ends of the Wave and Ripple Kimono Jacket, also mysteriously the second of no less than three different pieces incorporating teal yarn. How odd. The jacket debuted itself both at Stitches West (annual mecca of fiber - to be reported on later) and at the office and garnered its first confirmed knitter's praise.

- And above, the first Monkey sock was born (to date, still no explanation for why it's called a monkey sock), which is earmarked for my mother. Once I figured out the pattern, it actually fairly flew off the needles. I am hoping it is not too big. According to her measurements, it should work, but they may end up coming quite a bit higher on her than expected, as she is a bit shorter. We'll see. They are even remotely loose on me. I am thinking that if I do this pattern again I will size down my needles.

So the current sock count is 3. I can now say that I have no real allegiance one way or another in terms of toe up/cuff down. Surprisingly the kitchener stitch graft at the toe of the cuff down sock was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and looks rather nice. Also, the gusset heel was similarly unnecessarily dreaded. Eh, I guess this means I am more versatile and have expanded my skill set. ~excellent~ (in Mr. Burns' tone)

Also, my devious plan to recruit various victims for my hobbies is succeeding beyond all expectation. Have managed to seduce two people into signing up for the same half marathon, woo another into running with me while I train, and suckered my sister into joining the sock knitting craze. Ah, nothing like practicing my persuasive abilities...

tiny milestones

I was in a piss-poor mood last night due to a complete re-jiggering of plans based on an unexpected work project in the afternoon. The bright side is that I was able to reschedule the entrelac class I'm taking to Saturday (although with a cost/penalty...understandable on the shop's part, but grrr in general).

However, this morning I was pleasantly surprised and pleased to discover this:

that's right, so cool the stuffed dog toys are staring

On a whim, when it was pouring buckets a couple weeks ago I pulled out from my trunk (the one that things are sadly consigned to when they're the stuff of long ago dreams) my old college lacrosse track pants. I did not try them on, having looked at them and scoffed at their perceived circumference and thinking about the fact that it's my 10 year reunion this spring, and consequently stuffed them on a shelf.

Scene: It's early morning. Bleary eyed, the protaganist notes that it's raining. Again. But the protaganist needs to walk the furry fiends. She goes to grabaround on shelf, and pulls out track pants.

Me: "Oh, what the hell."

*pulls on*

Me: "Huh."

*does happy dance*

end scene.

***

a fledgling's attempt

It's a new leaf again - there was the defunct effort at an iWeb blog for a bit when I first moved out to San Francisco from Chicago, and there was long, long ago, my LJ account (still up, and still used sporadically to keep in touch with basically one web friend). As I re-engage with my own life, I think it's a worthwhile effort to attempt to record it. So here we are.

This year I will turn 30. It sounds like such a milestone, which is odd, because it's not like I feel any real social pressure to do anything "typical," like get married, or have a child, or even get into a committed relationship. What I did feel, at the end of last year, was that it was the right time for me to work on being happier with where I am. To feel less like I was at the whim of the stresses of my day job and do something about un-defining myself by it. To regain control by taking charge of my health, my hobbies, my habits. What is amazing to me is that it wasn't an empty effort, and I think I've done a pretty good job so far.

Thus, the manifesto. This blog will be about, in theory, my adventures in exploring my crafty, creative side, the one that helps me regain my sanity from my alterna-ego. So be prepared to be inundated with more detail than you ever cared about regarding my knitting, my nascent sewing efforts, my dogs, my cooking, and evidently, the new efforts I'm making at becoming a runner. And whatever else my brain comes up with.

******

Enough background then. To celebrate: here is a shot of the roasted brussel sprouts I rustled up tonight.

behold, my sproutyness

Nothing too fancy - rinsed, halved, tossed with olive oil, sea salt and black pepper for 45 minutes at 375 degrees. Easy-peasy. I love roasting vegetables. It's such a painless, simple way to get a deeper flavor out of winter veggies.

I am also in the process of working up a Noro striped scarf, inspired by my sister, via brooklyntweed's blog (http://brooklyntweed.blogspot.com/2007/04/noro-scarf.html). The major challenge would be trying to come up with harmonious colorways based on vague descriptions when ordering the yarn online. They seemed so...cheery and different.

noro, all easter-y for some reason

Sadly, my colorways started approaching one another in two spots, which suspiciously came close to pooling, but which I have decided to interpret as an ombre instead.

yeah, I'm not sure how this is all going to work out.

Regardless, it's a lovely simple project that is happily mindless, which is a nice break from the cable-filled pieces I've been churning out lately. It's my first time working with Noro (Silk Garden), and I have to say, although I thought it seemed unpleasantly scratchy at first (far from the sweet, soft alpaca blends I've been working with lately), it has really grown on me. It's got a dryness that reminds me of linen, but it's more supple, probably due to the silk. Actually, what it's really made me do is start thinking about looking into a Habu-based project...perhaps the Kusha Kusha scarf? We'll see!