Monday, June 11, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Fallow fingers were feeling The Itch after a few weeks of inactivity, so decided to see, per a conversation with a friend who is a talented quilter, what would happen if I attempted to knit a quilt block.
Am more of a fan of lace than colorwork (stranded or otherwise), so decided to use that as my starting point. Searched out an appropriate pattern as didn't much feel like 'reinventing the wheel,' then just let the fingers get busy.
Cornus Kousa.
Using Lion's Fishermen's Wool on size 9 (5.5 mm) needles, knitted this up to a 20" x 20" square after blocking. Haven't decided how many more blocks will end up making (either 11, 15 or 19 more; we'll see.), though I do know who the finished piece is intended for.
Am happy to have the hands moving again.
Am more of a fan of lace than colorwork (stranded or otherwise), so decided to use that as my starting point. Searched out an appropriate pattern as didn't much feel like 'reinventing the wheel,' then just let the fingers get busy.
Cornus Kousa.Using Lion's Fishermen's Wool on size 9 (5.5 mm) needles, knitted this up to a 20" x 20" square after blocking. Haven't decided how many more blocks will end up making (either 11, 15 or 19 more; we'll see.), though I do know who the finished piece is intended for.
Am happy to have the hands moving again.
The fog, which was pretty thick this last time around, seems to be lifting. Could be the birds. Could be increased efforts at companionship. Could be the star in the breast kicking in and an angel on the shoulder helping to sort things out.
Anyway, though am not nearly there yet, am approaching Better.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Excuses, Excuses.
Am tired, very tired. Am also spending more time over here, given that it's April and all. (Please join me, if you'd like! The more the merrier, and I can use all the happiness available).
Am tired, very tired. Am also spending more time over here, given that it's April and all. (Please join me, if you'd like! The more the merrier, and I can use all the happiness available).
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Friday, February 03, 2012
Bought my stamps, collected up my letter papers, found my favorite pen. Am ready for the challenge.
Seems like such a nice means of working one's way through what I think is the Worst Month of the Year.
Seems like such a nice means of working one's way through what I think is the Worst Month of the Year.
Breathing.
One of the reasons why I'm not out every day enjoying my ballon de rouge in a café along the Champs Elysées is that that's an awfully expensive pastime*. Another reason is that I'd most likely end up suffocating after about a week or two of this sort of thing given the state of my lungs and the air quality in The City. Some days are better than others and I've learned to look out the window to see if it's worthwhile to quit the digs in suburbia and possibly paint the town red (or, in my case, something secondary like a muted purple or orange).
Was having a pretty good run of things breathing-wise up until last weekend.
After a period of relatively clean, clear, slightly damp weather, things took a turn for the worse last Sunday morning. Actually woke myself up choking, despite the major doses of antihistamines I've been taking to calm the effects of some scary food reactions. Popped a pill, donned a dust mask, then waited for both the coffee to brew and the breathing passages to clear up. On heading over to market, noted this:
Keep in mind that, as the crow flies, the Eiffel Tower is 6.7 km/4 miles from where I took the picture and it was relatively dry out.
Ran my errands, headed home via the Back of the Hill (more trees and also, hopefully more sheltered from this), took it easy for the rest of the day.
Headed out in the evening, saw that the air had cleared somewhat and so profited from that.
Still a bit hazy, though a little afterwards a fog did roll in. The light from the beacon was reflecting off whatever particles were in the air.
The next few days followed in a fog, or a cloud of dust, or something. Concentrated on cleaning house, finding healthy stuff to eat that wouldn't close up my throat** and just breathing.
When I can, I get as far from The City as possible. Wooded areas are my preferred stomping grounds. Wooded areas with ponds or streams, even streams that have been covered over and run out of faucets, are my favorites.
View from the Parc de St-Cloud, approx 8 km or sixish miles from the Eiffel Tower. Note the well-defined layer of brown in the air. There was a nice breeze blowing from my back while I was facing The City. From here, my eyes and nose were running a lot and I did cough some, but wasn't having trouble breathing.
Today - more of the same.
Again, from Mont Valérien. Just beyond what I think is the Tour de la Porte Maillot is Sacre Coeur atop Monmartre. That's roughly six miles from the house. The Eiffel Tower is to the right of the edge of the picture.
From what the Frenchie tells me, this haze of pollution is going to last at least through the weekend, possibly longer. Will deal with it; I'm old hand at that sort of thing. Am wondering, though, if taking up smoking might not help strengthen me up some more.
***
* I can't even imagine how much a glass of red would cost at Foquet's. If I really want ambiance with my coup de pinard, I'll go to Rond Pont in the Cité. Love the headwaiter there; he's like Jacques Tati, only with a voice. Is totally on cue with my accent and anglicisms. I am (and no doubt many others are) going to miss him when he retires. Is kind of the soul of the place and, more in general, a living symbol of a Paris that is disappearing as time marches on.
** Another story for another time.
One of the reasons why I'm not out every day enjoying my ballon de rouge in a café along the Champs Elysées is that that's an awfully expensive pastime*. Another reason is that I'd most likely end up suffocating after about a week or two of this sort of thing given the state of my lungs and the air quality in The City. Some days are better than others and I've learned to look out the window to see if it's worthwhile to quit the digs in suburbia and possibly paint the town red (or, in my case, something secondary like a muted purple or orange).
Was having a pretty good run of things breathing-wise up until last weekend.
After a period of relatively clean, clear, slightly damp weather, things took a turn for the worse last Sunday morning. Actually woke myself up choking, despite the major doses of antihistamines I've been taking to calm the effects of some scary food reactions. Popped a pill, donned a dust mask, then waited for both the coffee to brew and the breathing passages to clear up. On heading over to market, noted this:
Keep in mind that, as the crow flies, the Eiffel Tower is 6.7 km/4 miles from where I took the picture and it was relatively dry out.
Ran my errands, headed home via the Back of the Hill (more trees and also, hopefully more sheltered from this), took it easy for the rest of the day.
Headed out in the evening, saw that the air had cleared somewhat and so profited from that.
Still a bit hazy, though a little afterwards a fog did roll in. The light from the beacon was reflecting off whatever particles were in the air.
The next few days followed in a fog, or a cloud of dust, or something. Concentrated on cleaning house, finding healthy stuff to eat that wouldn't close up my throat** and just breathing.
When I can, I get as far from The City as possible. Wooded areas are my preferred stomping grounds. Wooded areas with ponds or streams, even streams that have been covered over and run out of faucets, are my favorites.
View from the Parc de St-Cloud, approx 8 km or sixish miles from the Eiffel Tower. Note the well-defined layer of brown in the air. There was a nice breeze blowing from my back while I was facing The City. From here, my eyes and nose were running a lot and I did cough some, but wasn't having trouble breathing.
Today - more of the same.
Again, from Mont Valérien. Just beyond what I think is the Tour de la Porte Maillot is Sacre Coeur atop Monmartre. That's roughly six miles from the house. The Eiffel Tower is to the right of the edge of the picture.
From what the Frenchie tells me, this haze of pollution is going to last at least through the weekend, possibly longer. Will deal with it; I'm old hand at that sort of thing. Am wondering, though, if taking up smoking might not help strengthen me up some more.
***
* I can't even imagine how much a glass of red would cost at Foquet's. If I really want ambiance with my coup de pinard, I'll go to Rond Pont in the Cité. Love the headwaiter there; he's like Jacques Tati, only with a voice. Is totally on cue with my accent and anglicisms. I am (and no doubt many others are) going to miss him when he retires. Is kind of the soul of the place and, more in general, a living symbol of a Paris that is disappearing as time marches on.
** Another story for another time.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Compote de Poires.
Was very pleased to see the little seckel pears at market again with the new year.
The last of last week's batch before hitting la casserole.
Every year at about this time, these little beauties are packed into plastic bags and sold at ridiculous prices*. Last week, they were going for two kg for four euro (that's roughly a dollar a pound). I bought four kg with the intention of turning 1/2 of that into a gingery pear butter. That never happened, as we found we loved the 'compote' or sauce as is (no sugar, no nothing added). Was great as a side with ham, over our yogurt, snuck out of the bowl in the fridge by the spoonful.
This week, I saw that they were down to three euro for five kg. Bought a huge bag of pears along with some tiny, toothsome sweet/tart apples with the intention of freezing a bit of the compote for later use.** On one hand, would really like to make more fruit butter. On the other, the fruit's already so sweet and full of flavor that the addition of sugar/spices seems a bit like gilding the lily.
***
* I asked the Frenchie if the cheap prices and the sale au marche had anything to do with these fruits not conforming to EU standards on size/shape. He said that those regulations were retired a while back, but it wouldn't surprise him that people are now conditioned to not want "imperfect" or "normalized" fruits, thus forcing the vendors to sell so low.
** Wouldn't a granita or nectar be lovely on a triple-digit hot Summer day? A girl can dream.
Was very pleased to see the little seckel pears at market again with the new year.
Every year at about this time, these little beauties are packed into plastic bags and sold at ridiculous prices*. Last week, they were going for two kg for four euro (that's roughly a dollar a pound). I bought four kg with the intention of turning 1/2 of that into a gingery pear butter. That never happened, as we found we loved the 'compote' or sauce as is (no sugar, no nothing added). Was great as a side with ham, over our yogurt, snuck out of the bowl in the fridge by the spoonful.
This week, I saw that they were down to three euro for five kg. Bought a huge bag of pears along with some tiny, toothsome sweet/tart apples with the intention of freezing a bit of the compote for later use.** On one hand, would really like to make more fruit butter. On the other, the fruit's already so sweet and full of flavor that the addition of sugar/spices seems a bit like gilding the lily.
***
* I asked the Frenchie if the cheap prices and the sale au marche had anything to do with these fruits not conforming to EU standards on size/shape. He said that those regulations were retired a while back, but it wouldn't surprise him that people are now conditioned to not want "imperfect" or "normalized" fruits, thus forcing the vendors to sell so low.
** Wouldn't a granita or nectar be lovely on a triple-digit hot Summer day? A girl can dream.
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