Days like what we are experiencing right now are gifts. I'm off to take advantage while I can. Enjoy your Saturday!



Fresh Pond, Cambridge looking surprisingly like a Hudson River School painting.

Instead of turning on the TV and zoning out, the housemate and I like to either play a game of cribbage or scrabble, then read aloud to one another*.

We've gotten through quite a few books this way - mainly adventure/travel literature. For whatever reasons, this genre lends itself well to Pavel's delivery.

Anyway, last night, we finished a favorite story of mine: Joshua Slocum's Sailing Alone Around the World. Pavel was a little surprised** at how much he ended up enjoying*** the old salt's accounts of the people he met and the things he saw during his three year voyage on the little boat he acquired and was required to rebuild down in Fairhaven, MA.

The tough thing about finishing a book is having to choose another. Since we've got our sea legs now, should we go back in time and read some of Marco Polo's accounts of his voyages in the same areas as Slocum's? Should we move up in time and cross the Atlantic with Thor Heyerdahl? Or maybe, should we put ourselves back on Terra Firma and follow Cabeza de Vaca across Texas on foot?

***

* It usually ends up that Pavel does the reading while I listen and knit. He does this very well, and I think he should consider volunteering to record books for the sight-impaired.

** Part of Pavel's surprise had to do that this was a Shambhala book. Generally stuff published by them tends to be a bit on the esoteric side, and I think he believed that I was forcing some sort of Book of the Dead like thing on him.

*** He's actually sort of researching a trip to Mauritius based on what he read. Slocum really liked the people there.

While I was away, the kitchen and bathroom were slated to be renovated. For whatever reasons, those two jobs didn't happen. (Bathroom may start in a month or so; Kitchen's been put until next Spring.) Instead, some more work on the top floor of the house was done and a new roof was put on. Though this all was pretty painful to live through, the results are spectacular.



This is the view to the north of us from the new balcony that replaced the poorly-designed, rotten and dangerous spare room that was out my bedroom door. Dreams of conservatories and pergolas gave way to a nice, un-roofed space suitable for container gardening and basking. I think we'll be putting up a couple more bird feeders and some flower baskets as well.



New roof, new shingles, a new door and window. Take a look at that roof: isn't it beautiful? It's aluminum. Don't think that there are many of those in my neighborhood. Some informal testing with an infrared thermometer has shown that, under the midday sun, the aluminum is around 40 degrees cooler than the neighbors' asphalt one...let's hear it for early adoption of neat technologies!

Since the wall was going to be exposed again, it was going to need new shingles. I love the cedar and wish they weren't so expensive/labor intensive to pose. A whole house covered in these would be pretty impressive. As it stands, Pavel wants to paint the house blue. (Personally, I think Falu Red would be really nice with the white roof.)

The door and window got switched around in all this. Take a look at the window. It's important. (Here's a better view:)



When I first saw a new window go in, it was clear and fixed. This kind of made me sad, as I was hoping for another opportunity for a cross breeze. Little did I know that, hiding under a pile of old shingles and masonite, was this new take on the old stained glass that you find in lots of these late-Victorian era houses.



(View from inside - I put my bed right under it.)

Pavel likes stained glass a lot, and often, we'll take evening walks around the neighborhood just to admire the backlit windows often seen here. He particularly liked this window because it reminded him both of a rose and sunrise, both equally important as this is an east window.

Bit by bit, the house is starting to take on the personality of its owner. I'm hoping that he's starting to appreciate it; it's got a lot of potential just waiting to be released.

Habaneros.

As a parting gift, got some of the much-coveted jelly from homegrown habaneros. (Actually, was an exchange - I sent along clementine). Normally save pepper jelly to have on crackers with cream or farmer cheese. Was told that this was good, especially if one was sensitive to hot peppers. In addition, one could brush it over chicken on the barbecue or to deglaze it in a fry pan.

Before anything else, though, we were to try it straight from the jar.

Pavel and I were drooling at the sweet, hot, vinegary scent on opening. *Boy,* was it hot, though. As a result, applied it very conservatively (only about a tablespoon for two chicken breasts). Could have used twice or thrice that, though, as the pepper flavor mellows out considerably on cooking. Caramelized beautifully, though. Served this with broccoli and jasmine rice.

Am still on the Stendhal kick, by the way. Started the Chartreuse de Parme last night, as I was super insomniac and tired of Carcopino. So, kind did a switch from an English translation of a Frenchman's appreciation of Rome to the (somewhat polyglottal) version originale of another Frenchman's love of Milan. (Love Stendhal's writing, gosh darnit. Don't think I'd have liked him personally; do love what he had to say, though.)

Good Neighbors:

Ran into the husband of the neighbor I ran into on the walk home from the grocery store. Ended up talking for like 3/4 of an hour. When I saw him last, maybe before Thanksgiving last year, he'd told me that he was trying to lose weight for a physical for work. Well - he lost weight in spades. Told him that he *really* looked good and, brash sort as he is, I think he actually blushed. (eee!)

Exchanged gifts, too: had a book on trains for him from a book sale as well as some homemade jam. Got a shopping bag full of mason jars in return.

Harbinger of Spring:

We've had a ton of Goldfinches and House Finches out back for the past month-or-so that I've been back; is interesting in that they weren't around last year, or anything.

Have become kind of ordinary, these little ones:



Goldies flocking on the feeders last week. Get a load of that particularly Gold bee-hind on the top level!

Have to say that I'm surprised with how accustomed to the bright flashes of primary colors have become; sometimes even find myself looking beyond the birds to other things. Still, changes in the routine do surprise. The other day, observed something subtle, lovely, totally Springlike: a male Red Head tenderly passing a sunflower seed to a brown headed, stripy-breasted girlfriend. (sigh.) Spring is *almost* here.

Am noticing something interesting: Ampersand was not a happy cat. Her early life was rough and she was just too traumatized to really ever be at ease. I think she was thankful to have a warm place to sleep, people to keep her company and decent food to eat, though. The best I could do in her case was to make the end of her life better than the beginning.

Magnolia, on the other hand, seems to be a happy cat at heart who just went through some recent tough times. As the shelter folks thought might happen, she is starting to blossom into a more confident, strong animal. On watching her break up a fight between the boy cats today, I got the impression that she just might end up the boss of the house.



The Good Ship Maggie. Just got word from the vet: aside from some bad tartar and gingivitis, she's in good shape. Need to get a tooth cleaning scheduled soon.

Apparently, like me, she's a nervous eater when she's unhappy. Have her on a diet and am exercising her a good bit with the laser dot. She's going to be okay.

The Pale Flower of Spring Hill.



Daisy Magnolia. Daisy's what her original people called her. For whatever reason, the shelter she ended up at changed her official name to Magnolia. Pavel likes calling her Maggie, Mags or just Silly Maggie. I alternate between the simple 'girl kitty' and savoring the full four syllables of her pink flower name.

Brought her home last night with very little incident aside from a bit of totally-understandable miaowling in the car. First thing was to scope out a safe place under the bed, of course. After a minute or two, curiosity got the best of our heroine and she did a full exploration of the perimeter of the new living space.

Of course, the boys were fascinated. (This time around, I think that it's Tony who's got the crush. Trouble's interested, but not as obsessed with her as he was with Ampersand.) The girl is showing pointed disinterest towards them both.

Will be interesting to see how this all plays out. I know for myself that have had the heart hooked. She's really a dear. Hope she grows happier here.

Auspicious Day.

Looked on my calendar and saw that today is both Diwali and Sweetest Day.

To all my friends who celebrate Diwali: a happy, holy and luminous one to you!



This year's diva.

and to all my friends who don't: a virtual box of chocolates for you!

Pattern Recognition I

Raphaella used to call the hydrangea bush in my old front yard "puff ball flower." It was a short, kind of squat bush that, after a couple seasons of serious pruning, produced tons of large, blue flowers. I see a lot of those around this neighborhood, along with what looks like another type of hydrangea:



Taller bushes with smaller, more loosely-packed flowers, these started out greenish-white or maybe cream-colored with a hint of blush. For Fall, they seem to have turned to anything from mauve to burgundy-colored. They have the same leaf positioning as the other hydrangeas. The Frenchie calls them hortensias.

As part of my "get over yourself, Be" campaign, decided to break out a knitting bible* and crack the code of something that, though very simple, has always given me a tough time: a vintage lace pattern called "feather and fan" or "old shale."

First attempts were met with failure and frustration due to miscounted yarnovers**. In desperation, grabbed a small ball of mauve (a color I normally dislike) and, gosh darnit, it worked:



I'm calling this Old Shale in Old Rose. The swatch is only about 16"-18" long, as I ran out of yarn. Absolutely don't want to frog*** it, though, because I think it's gorgeous and, well, I'm kind of proud of it. Maybe will just sew on a couple buttons and make it into a neckwarmer. Heck, I'd wear it.

***

* Mary Thomas and Elizabeth Zimmerman are my knitting go-tos, my gurus. Some day I'd like to try out and work a project in all the patterns in the above-mentioned book. Next year, I'm thinking of knitting every project from Zimmerman's Knitting Almanac. I stand to learn a lot from both ventures.

** First a mohair, as I thought that that would be neat. Big mistake. The next was a bit of wool that was smoother than the mohair but didn't show the pattern very well. The third time with the Wool Ease was the charm.

*** unravel

Salt Peanuts.



A little mood music.

The Frenchie's gotten me into the habit of having a little something before dinner, an aperitif. Generally it's something simple like some cucumbers and smoked fish, some pickles and olives. Maybe a nice tomato if they can be found. If oysters weren't so expensive and the housemate wasn't so grossed out by them, I'd happily start each evening with two or three.

Wandered over to the dollar store the other day to take a look around and was pleased to find a newly-stocked favorite - salted, in-the-shell peanuts at a dollar a bag. The same thing costs $3 or $4 a bag at the neighborhood grocery stores. Of course I got a few bags for the larder.

Tonight, enjoyed a handful before dinner with a bit of fizzy water and some Khatchaturian on the radio. Felt for all the world like the old cocktail hour back in Eastie.

Got a really good, concrete something that validated at least one of the struggles over the past couple years. (slow release of breath).

Am relly pleased with myself, but also had an amazing amount of support. Couldn't have achieved what I did without those who'd helped me roll up the sleeves, who'd dealt with my moods, who'd spurred me on. Thank you. Thank you.

If you get the chance, why not pay a visit to Althouse to wish her and her brand new husband well.

Pavel's still healing up from having a wisdom tooth pulled, so, when I've been cooking, have been making more soft stuff. (Is kind of a challenge to make soft appealing, especially during the Summer).

Yesterday, though we wanted soup, there was no way we were going to manage gazpacho - just too spicy. Checked the larder, consulted a few cookbooks, and ended up with something pretty darn good if I do say so myself:

Cucumber Soup

2 large American Cucumbers
1 medium-sized onion
1 large clove garlic

2 T olive oil
3 t chicken bouillon powder
2 c water

2 T flour

Crushed black pepper, thyme, dried parsley to taste

2 c lowfat yogurt (preferably w/out gelatin or pectin)
1 1/2 - 2 c non fat buttermilk

fresh parsley as a garnish.

1.) Peel and chop cucumbers, onion, garlic.

2.) Saute onions and garlic in olive oil until just soft (no further; don't want them to brown).

3.) Add cucumbers, 1 1/2 c water and 2 T of chicken bouillon. Bring to boil; cook until cucumbers are very soft.

4.) Make a white sauce of remaining water and 2T of flour. Add a bit of hot liquid from saucepan. Dump this mix back into pan and stir. Reduce heat; simmer until nicely thickened. Allow to cool a bit.

5.) Take cooled mixture and blend until liquid. Pour back into saucepan, add remaining tsp of bouillion, parsley, pepper and thyme to taste. Blend in yogurt.

6.) Chill until very cold. If you have room in your freezer, this works best.

7.) When ready to serve, blend in 1 1/2 - 2 c buttermilk (depending on how thick you want soup) and sprinkle with fresh parsley.

Makes about 6 cups.

***

Was surprised to see that the majority of recipes called for cooking the cucumber. Actually does a world of good, as, whenever I've tried to make something like this in the past, it's ended up awfully watery.

Tonight, am trying to decide between an ersatz (ersatz because I don't have any leeks) vichyssoise or a borscht. (We'll see.)

Fourth of July, Salem, MA

A picture perfect end to what turned out to be a gift of a day:



Anna keeps insisting that her brother's adopted. I'm not convinced.



Flyover! The building in the lower left hand corner is the Salem Custom House, where Nathaniel Hawthorne (who, coincidentally, was born on the Fourth of July) worked for a spell.



Fireworks! Salem really put on a nice show. The moon offset rather than outshowed the rockets.

(More pictures here, in case you're interested.)

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't wish my dad a Happy Fathers' Day. Hope you had a great day today!

In honor of my June swap partner.



(I could do far, far worse than to have a Joni Mitchell song as an earworm.)

I'm sure that the sparrows're probably crowding out all the other species who might come to visit the feeders. Oh well, they're cute anyway.



This morning we must've had a good 40 of them in the yew along another 8-10 on the patio where I put a plate of corn. Though most still have their juvenile plumage (when does that change?), all seem to be able to get food from the feeders and crack the seed hulls on their own. It's only relatively rarely now that
we see the frantic wing flapping and gaping mouths pointed upward (this happens on occasion at the suet feeder, though).

What really gets us now is naptime.



Amid the din we'll always find a few downy little ones with their heads tucked under the wings. Occasionally, if we've not been discreet enough in our approaches, heads will come up, eyes will blink a few times in a fight between alertness and sleep-weight, and when they see that it's only the big things behind the shiny stuff that hurts when one bumps into it, sleep will win out again.

The housemate's really stepping up to the plate for me lately; this is the third time he's made dinner since I'd started working. Tonight's going to be a stir fry of steak, carrots, celery (plus some other vegetables to be determined), over jasmine rice. Am very happy because am very tired.