So Long, March.

On one hand, it's not February. On the other hand, it seems that all I do this month is wait for April.



Then, into my eyes floods that infinite light, and that's when I need a walking stick, a dog, a hand, faith. And as you pass by me, touching the chill with your soft silence, blindly I sentence you to give names to all that I now do not know. Spanish Lyrics here. Version Original here.

(Happy April. Happy Poetry Month.)

Personally I love puns, and I love them precisely because of how fleeting the humor is. One has just enough time to groan a bit, maybe shake one's head before moving on. Often, that's all one needs.

Earth Hour.

You know, I just checked out the 'GBH website and saw that after Vicar of Dibley, there's a Chef! marathon. Cool.

Dispatch #3:

"Hope you're doing okay. We got a fair bit of rain last night - really made things start smelling like Spring. Went birdwatching last wkend: saw a downy woodpecker (a female). Also went to visit my friend Marcia + her family about 20 miles away on the commuter rail (It's so seldom that I leave Boston that the train ride is a major deal.) Don't know if you remember Marcia, but you've met. She sends a hello. In other news, flax added to oatmeal cookies makes them really rich. Keep taking care."

At the bakery, turn the corner and you find yourself on Spring Street. Walk up about half a block or so and stop. Wait if you have to for cars to pass, for things to calm down, then listen carefully. You should now be able to hear water running underneath the pavement. That's the spring that gives the street (and, coincidentally, the hill I now live on) its name.

I love passing by the Italian bakery on Somerville Avenue just across from the Dollar Store. Hot white bread just from the oven always smells good (though I'm not nuts about how it tastes); it smells especially good on cooler days like today.

Lunch.

This afternoon while running errands, I passed by Christina's. Checked the chalkboard for the featured flavor: Sour Cream Pomegranate.

On the return trip, stopped in for a taste. Oh, was it was good. Treated myself to a scoop for the walk home.

Last night's wind kept blowing the trashcan over, so after several times braving the cold to right things, we gave up and put it back behind the house.

This morning, got up a bit late and rushed out just in time to see the garbage truck pass by.

Caught a gust of wind on the back: just as strong as last night's, but almost as warm as breath. My shoulders loosened up a bit. Felt the hint of a smile at the corners of my mouth. (Was so much better than yesterday's twitch.)

Papaya.

Picked up a papaya at the market on a whim. I do this every now and again.

I want to love this fruit so much. Euell Gibbons sung its praises in his Beachcomber's Handbook. I remember a few of them making their way home in suitcases after various relatives' Hawaiian vacations.

It's beautiful.



Sorry for the blur: the kitchen's pretty dark in the evening and I hate using the flash.

It's romantic.



The seeds call out to be touched (and saved) after the fruit's been cut. Have 1/2 a juice glassful of them in the fridge waiting to be planted.

But I just can't get to liking how it tastes. Perhaps I'm serving it not ripe enough (or too ripe)? Maybe I should try something other than just dousing it in lime juice or making fruit salads of it? Maybe it'll never taste as good as it looks to me?

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat—the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Are chickadees late afternoon birds? Are cardinals? I only seem to see them in the yew tree later in the day.

By contrast, such a gorgeous afternoon.



Meow.

Have to remember that there can be beautiful stuff out there, even when everything feels like doom.

Rough Day, as what The Visit started, this is bringing into full bloom.

School was like sunshine after several weeks of rain; just felt back to be in a living, real-working world. Was kind of proud of myself to have made it in. Managed, too, to keep the twitching to a minimum during class.

Language is going to come with difficulty for the foreseeable future. I'm lucky I can form sentences at all either speaking or writing. (I hate it when this happens. Am in a bubble, but can't seem to break it. Am at the bottom of a well shouting up - hear the echoes on the stones. Can't find the strength to climb out, though.)

Monday.

Back to the land of the living? Well, we're going to give it a try, anyway.

Deficiencies?

Just got through watching a squirrel try to take down the feeder out back because we weren't quick enough getting the suet out. Now am watching the Holstein attempt to rip a branch off the tree in the front hall.

Someone's eating the mums and the oxalis in the kitchen.

Just about a week ago, my dad let me know that one could actually contact my brother. Bought a bunch of cards from the post office and am sending a weekly dispatch out.

Last week:

"Hey,

Only just got your address from Dad the other day. Hopefully, you're doing OK. Spring is finally coming to Boston - you should see all the birds and squirrels in the backyard! I can sit + watch them for hours.

Am planning a garden in my new place - lots of peppers, squash, turnips and onions so far (stuff I save seeds from).

Take care, ok?"

This week:

"3/20/09

Hey,

Happy Spring! Here the sky's so blue it's like an inspirational poster. Maples, forsythia, crocuses are budding + in bloom. Birds are singing a lot(Gonna have lots of nests in the yard.) My allergies have started up big time.

For St. Paddy's Day, made bangers + mash, a soda bread and lime (jello) parfait for dessert. Actually, liked it better than the normal, routine dinner.

Am reading a lot: Edith Hamilton's "Mythology," Arabian Nights, and the Federalist Papers. Am also getting into knitting lace. Made a Spring scarf + am now making a vest for work. You take care."

OY! I thought that this was the stuff of urban legend.

I understand that people are afraid of spiders. (Myself, am allergic to them - have gone into ana ana ph - you know, the thing where you get all swelled up and can't breathe) after having been bitten. Around here, we have brown recluses who do amazing damage (have seen this firsthand), so of course I wear gloves when I garden.

Killer spiders in bananas, though? Old one. Probably about as likely as the scorpions in the Peter Mayle story, too (sigh).

Pavel's been playing this all evening. I don't do computer games, but I do like the soundtrack on this one. Have been leaving it running in the background while doing other things.

So we *are* getting a tea party. Several, it seems. Good.

Have been going on about the //s between the French unvetted, underqualified, hyper mediatized president and ours for some time. Things continue here like they are over there (will get into that later), we're going to start seeing stuff like this, I'm afraid.

Haven't been feeling well at all today. Turned down coffee for tea with lemon, even took a hot bath with alcohol to try and clear up the chest (it's bad when I do that, because the bathtub here is so small I have to sit with bent knees). Ended up dosing myself with some sleepy-type allergy medicine and taking a nap for a while. Girl Kitty was pretty happy and spent a good time wrapped around my head purring.

Am hoping that it's just allergies to all the dust and mold I've kicked up the past couple days.

Just in case, I'm thinking of making my favorite burn the cold outta ya soup with fish tonight. Have really got a taste for it.

For me, anyway, too high expectations were never a problem.

Got another chunk done in the back yard. This is going to take a *long* time. If it's kept at, though, it will be nice.

Another victory of sorts.

If she really was there as some are reporting, what courage it must have taken to stand him down. Wow.

Yes, it is a this is a victory of sorts. Am glad about the concessions she got for her co-wife.

Didn't feel much like having boiled dinner last night, but did want something fairly seasonal. Opted for fake bangers and mash (fake because I didn't have any bangers, so substituted fresh kielbasa. Am pretty sure that my "mash" wasn't authentic, either), a salad, and a pretty decent green mousse-like concoction improvised from jell-o and Greek yogurt.

Of course there was soda bread:



Couldn't skimp on that. Used the Vegetarian Epicure's recipe, substituting soured milk for the buttermilk and adding extra soda. Also substituted caraway seeds for the cardamom, as all I had was pods and didn't feel like cracking them. Oh yes, and those are actual currants, too.

(Pavel's taking one loaf to work. Promised the Frenchie that, the next time he visits, I'd make him some.)

Yesterday, in an effort to forget myself, threw me into a bunch of mindless tasks that would show concrete results. Got four loads of laundry done. Mopped the house, cleaned the bathrooms. Vacuumed. Started cleaning up the back yard.

Today, I'd like to get some mending done, get tax stuff organized and start tackling my health insurance boondoggle. (Really don't want to be nailed on taxes for last year.) Also would like to tackle a bit more in the yard. It's been neglected for so long that it's going to take lots of time and effort.

I really should get some schoolwork done, too. It's Spring Break and there's some serious catch up to be done. Fell behind terribly in February.

Ultimately, it'll all get sorted out. It kind of has to.

Am currently watching the Alpha Squirrel make light work of a suet cake in the yew tree. He's certainly the biggest one of the bunch who hang around here. Interesting to watch him chase the other, littler ones out of the yew. Seems to have a pretty serious problem with mange, unless squirrels molt in the Springtime like birds or cats.

We're trying to decide whether or not to get any more suet. They've gone through quite a lot over the past week. There's plenty of good stuff in the compost pile and would rather see them go after that, now that it's thawed out.

Oh, and by the way:



(Hope you made it a great day!)

The Frenchie mentioned something about Soc Gen having insurance against bad investments and that that was a reason for an AIG payoff (given that they're an insurance company and all). Makes sense, but still doesn't make me feel any better about this government making us responsible for the debts they've taken on.

Comfort Food.

Fried bologna and onions on pumpernickel bread. Just had it for lunch.

Makes things feel a little less awful, anyway.

My tax dollars went to France and all I got was this lousy pocket calendar.





Wonder how much Kerviel's bosses got?

I honestly can't say that it never occurred to me that I'd end up in shock from my visit to the Heimatstadt. Naively, I hoped that things would turn out differently. Of course, things were as they'd always been and now I'm left feeling flayed or burned or whatever.

***

The surface world, the world above the puddle or pond I'm skimming in right now (reality?) is kind of fuzzy, a bit distorted. Where I'm resting now has all the allure of a water world, an echoing, cushioning medium sort of separating me from the outside. Here I don't really feel much of anything. My nose is numb and I feel a slight pressure on the forehead and chest.

If I dive a bit deeper into this (and I really don't want to), all I want to do is cry. (What would that solve?)

I know that there are so many out there who have it so much worse than I do, believe me, I understand that. Still: I feel so. damn. awful.

Then there was the Coffee Hour in the yew tree downstairs.

Things were pretty calm in the cathouse this morning, though the boys were a little raucous due to Pavel having shut his door in the middle of the night. This got me up at around four-ish to feed them and thus buy a bit more quiet.



Girl cat's been pretty affectionate lately; as soon as she notes motion in my bed after sunrise, she begins purring like an outboard motor, then jumps off her bed to join me for a bit. (Very shades of Bashi. Funny, too, as she never met him.)



Antoine keeps up his vigil. He bothers her, but not as much as Trouble (the Holstein) does. Just as well that Trouble was lurking around downstairs - I can't take another night of him starting fights through the window. (Two nights ago was at around 3:00 am.)

Next project up: curtains and window-cleaning. (Note the nose and paw prints.)

A Reminder:

Be sure to watch your backs today.

Dad's got a great post up about a perennial favorite.

No emotional a prioris. Just love the total pragmatism behind the song.



(Maybe is part of why I've done so badly man-wise in aggregate.)

Comfort.

My latest happy bit of airplane knitting is complete. Couldn't find the blocking pins, so just steamed it with the iron to get the lace pattern to show up better. It's going to look awfully nice with a white tee shirt or blouse, maybe.



Usually my knitting goes out to other people and the process of making something is like a prayer or a sutra to the intended recipient. Broke with this, though, when I first nuzzled the skein of silvery alpaca. It was so soft, so airy, and I really needed a bit of comfort.

Though I've got a ton of other things to work on, have decided to start another project for myself. There's no reason why I shouldn't benefit from my own good wishes. It's going to be lacy (meaning, will require a bit more presence than straight knitting) and it's going to be a nice Springtime-y, licheny green. Am looking forward to the process.

Every Night It's the Same.



The orange one wants the girl cat's food, the holstein-looking one wants to pee on stuff. Both want the girl cat as their girlfriend. She's old, though. Old enough to be their mom. She hates them.

Still, they sit here night after night, undressing her with their eyes.

Unnerving.

Well, the good news is that this is finally out of my head.

The bad news is, it's been replaced by this:



(Mahalo, Pavel.)

Couldn't Resist.

Seems as though the Obamas have succeeded in something I'd never have thought possible: Making the Sarkozys* look like class acts. That's talent.

That said, I would like to point something out to folks going on about the region code thing. I live in zone one and the Frenchie lives in zone two. I buy him DVDs all the time off the Amazon US site and send them or bring them over. His player has the option of handling one zone other than his own, and it wasn't even an expensive one.

***

* Heading off to Brazil for Christmas, then to Mexico for Spring Break after telling the citizens that there'd need to be a lot of belt-tightening is not good. Suing people who poke fun at you, or using your position to further your career as a mediocre pop singer is somewhat of a no no as well.

Would really like to plant some sweet potatoes, peppers, melons and squash this year. Have been saving seeds from the Winter Hill estate and heaven knows there's plenty of space here.

Be's House of Fertility.



We've not gotten the chance to eat any of the turnips we bought this past Fall/Winter. How could one cut a little green top down in its prime?



No, they're not fertility symbols, but rather leeks gone to seed. Picked them up at Reliable in Union Square. The lady at the register was pretty excited that I was buying them to try and get them to bloom, then possibly harvest the seeds. Am thinking of planting them out back when the weather gets better. Lady at the market says that they'll be big, white puffballs if (and hopefully when) they bloom. Would be nice to get some chives to offset them. (Allium would be cool, too, but don't want to go too overboard on the theme. Have some sprouted garlic that I'm going to plant as well.)

Am so close to done with this.



Would love to have it blocked and ready to wear by tomorrow, but I think that that might be a bit ambitious.



(Am sure that blocking would even out the cockeyed stitches. Have lots of tension-related issues; think it's another curse associated with left-handedness.)

Winter Garden into Spring.







Funny to think that this was all covered with several inches of wet snow yesterday. Looks pretty rough now, but all I'm seeing is the potential.

And on that note, it's time for bed.

Sweet dreams and don't forget to set the clocks forward.

Set a blood orange on each placemat for dessert tonight. Was surprised that Pavel had never seen or tasted one before.

"What a weird color. It's purple."

"That's why they call it a blood orange. Get it?"

He sniffed it. "Smells like an orange."

"I like them - maybe they're less acidic? Don't know. They taste slightly different from other oranges."

He broke off a section and bit into it. "Not as sweet as a clementine. Looks like a bruise. Looks like a hematoma in a rind."

Looked at him sideways. "Looks like something I'm going to find on the lawn after all the snow's melted."

(I won!)

Not a lot accomplished today. Wanted to get out to somewhere away from The City, but Speed Racer wasn't cooperating. Sounds like the muffler was punctured or something. Anyway, didn't want to risk anything by driving too far out, so just left him in the driveway and wandered over to Porter to run errands.

Got a fair bit of reading done for class, as well as a good chunk of my scarf finished (pictures tomorrow, maybe). I need to turn in a paper, but am totally blocked; not good.

Dinner was something simple that turned out really well:

1/2 red onion (color unimportant - that's what I had in the fridge)
1 1/2 c frozen peas
3 T olive oil
4-5 slices prosciutto

1/2 bag frozen cheese ravioli (80 count)

Dice onion, saute in 2 T olive oil until tender. Add frozen peas. Cook until peas are soft. Lower heat (to about medium-low); cut prosciutto into thin strips, add to peas and saute until glossy and opaque.

Cook ravioli according to package instructions. Drain, then add to pea mixture with last T of olive oil. Shake pan/stir/whatever works for you until ravioli are coated with oil and everything's mixed. Serve with cracked hot pepper and parmesan cheese.

Makes 4 servings.

Aah, Springime.

238.

(= How many pictures from France I just uploaded to flickr. Will get them all sorted and treated in due time.)



The view from Monmartre.

On Living Across the Street From a Hospital.

Pros:

The street's always the first plowed.

A great emergency room is conveniently located out the front door.

Cons:

Snow gets plowed into the driveway approaches.

Lights are always flashing out the window at all hours of the night.

Entitled hospital visitors nearly constantly blocking the driveway, idling in permit-only spaces or even parking in the driveway.

Biohazardous waste strewn all over the lawn and driveway.

Home, decided to take the compost out back. We have two huge piles at the other end of the garden; a bit of a schlep when there's still a bit short of a foot of hard-packed, half-melted snow on the ground. Put on my boots and sallied forth>

However, on the way back, had to fish out yet another pair of discarded latex gloves and half a spool of gauze. Sadly, this isn't a rare occurrence.

Not a tremendous lot of things went on today. That's good, given what the past few weeks have been like.

Heard from the Frenchie - he got back from the hospital okay. Nothing terribly wrong; all things in order for now.

Got some paperwork together for school stuff. Everything's not completely in order, but, well, close enough for jazz or government work or whatever.

Went out to visit my best gal Aimee at work today - it'd been ages since I'd seen her; heck, maybe haven't seen her since before Christmas. Was good to catch up. She's had her own craziness going on, what with a family, school, the place I used to work for to juggle. Though my life's been nuts the past couple years, at least I don't have a toddler and a rotten job to deal with.

Had a good walk up and down Cambridge Street, talked about crazy moms, guys, school. Ran errands and window shopped. Ducked into our favorite yuppie bah (Bukowskis) for chili dogs and sodas, then went on our ways.

Checked out the bank balance, and was none too pleased by that. Will have to get the resume out and find another petit boulot to stave off dipping into the savings again (am saving that for a later, hopefully sunnier day). Am not looking forward to the runaround involved.

Had a loverly walk home, as the sun finally came out. Actually was able to take off the coat and swing it over my shoulder like Fred Astaire or something. Gosh, life is good sometimes.

"Everything is Amazing Right Now, and Nobody's Happy."



We were howling at this today. I'm not that old, but I remember party lines (my grandparents had one until the early 80s) and relay operators. I remember physically having to go through a catalogue full of actual index cards in a library in order to do research. I remember coffee shop coffee *before* Starbucks. Heck, I remember when my blog was just a bit of scribbles in a notebook (pictures and video not included).

We are spoiled nowadays and I think sometimes that we're too dumb to realize it.

(Thanks, Anna!)

Recent Stuff.

Pavel's valentine this year was a little cardinal.



He's sitting in his knitted nest in the kitchen window looking out on the yew tree. Maybe he's even daydreaming about finding a girl cardinal to cuddle with. (One of our regulars is a gorgeous, olive-plumed supermodel of a female. Don't blame the knitted boy if he's a bit smitten with her. I know I am.)

After I finished the Frenchie's scarf (and a hat from the leftover yarn), decided to pay a visit to my favorite market stall in Versailles for another treat. This time around, I got two skeins (at less than five euro a piece! For Alpaca, for crying out loud!) of Katia Andes Alpaca in a cool silver color. Told the lady that, since it was Spring, I wanted to do a bit of lace.



Ultimate Airplane Knitting. This lace pattern is so simple and so, well, gratifying, that it's practically knitting itself. The yarn worked out well with the airplane needle - an size seven plastic circular that I received one Christmas with a bunch of other old knitting accessories.

This really caught the eye of a few of the flight attendants. Received lots of compliments, both on the pattern and the yarn. Can't wait till it's done, blocked and ready-to-wear. Am keeping it for myself (for a change).

I mentioned the housemate making pancakes yesterday because he wasn't too worried about getting into work late. It was nice to have him around in the morning, to sit, talk and to watch the birds. However, the news of his impending layoff is kind of weighing on him.

Myself, I've been pretty cavalier about leaving my job last August. I'm not too worried about finding un petit boulot to tide me over until I do decide to find serious work again, either. I've never really defined myself by what I've done for a living. Pavel's a bit different, though. He's always worked in his line of work, rather to the detriment of other aspects of his life. Though he's all set financially and, to be honest, he didn't really even *like* the work he was doing, this is a bit of a setback for him. A huge chunk of time is now going to need to be filled and, well, though they let him off easy, he still got dumped. That hurts.

I suggested that, as soon as work's done (end of the month), he take a vacation. He'd been to Hawaii before and absolutely loved it. Why not spend more than just two weeks there? Afterwards, there're plenty of around the house projects to work on (setting up the dining room, for example) and Spring planting to do. I'd love that he take a cooking course, as well. Oh, and maybe take a class somewhere, too. (His degree's in Mathematics, but he's worked as a programmer forever. Has spoken about doing some work in CS/theoretical programming. Might be good for him. Get him out of the house a bit). The Frenchie would love it, too, if he'd come visit Paris.

All this is not really a crisis, and there's so much opportunity for him. I'm hoping for the best, as he has all sorts of potential.

Left to my own devices today, I had some whole wheat toast with a bit of prosciutto, a banana and a cup of coffee. Not much in terms of pyrotechnics, but still pretty good and decently balanced I guess.

Just after twittering my breakfast yesterday morning, I received this from the Frenchie:



Somme nous tous debiles de vouloir partager des images de nos petits-dejeuners? C'est mieux que de partager des images d'autres choses, enfin. (Originally from a Labview forum, One of the Frenchie's favorite hangouts after the Citroen-owner gab sites.)

My response? How easily he forgets.



One of my all-time favorites - the Frenchie's omelet with salmon and broiled tomatoes. How easily a girl could get spoiled from this sort of treatment.

Am slowly making up for the lost sleep. Not totally there yet, but will be soon.

Decided to drop Interweave Knits (haven't been crazy about the projects, the editing, the photography lately. More do-able projects in Vogue the past year or so, actually) for Piecework, which is another Interweave publication. This isn't exclusively knitting, but is more within my realm of interests (technique, history, other culture stuff) than its sister publication. This month's edition's primary focus is on textiles for Historical Reenactment; the projects concerned being mainly from the Civil War era. I particularly like the sontag pattern.

They feature a lot of embroidery, as well. Haven't done that in years, save for a bit here and there to decorate knitting. Will be interesting to see if this prompts me to get back into that.

Valley Girl Presentation Aside,



This is actually pretty spot on.

Back Again.

Am still a bit woozy. Travel was pretty hellish yesterday, though not as bad as it could have been. Have a lot of sleep to catch up on, as was up for nearly 30 hours straight.

Having a hard time reconciling the fact that just a couple days ago, I was out sunbathing, too. Oh well.

I don't normally like to link to other blogs. However, this person in particular has an awful lot of good, important stuff to say to those who aren't so connected to his world. (Idem pour Sisu, Solomonia, Jo.)

Please take a look; ils ajoutent beaucoup au discours. (Don't know how to translate - I kind of hang on their words, maybe?)

Only got to see bits of this on the last plane trip to France. Kind of dark, kind of CGI'd, but it's still Bond. Would like to see it in full (as well as a Piece of Peace.)

The theme song's been unshakable, though. Has been running through the head for something like three or four days straight, now (hate when that happens; would like something else):

Based on what I've seen, I don't think my mother's doing well. I don't like her, but I can't not love her given that she comprises 1/2 my DNA makeup. Have this horrible feeling that she's not going to survive 2009. Hate this feeling.

The good thing of this all was that I got to spend time with my favorite cousin* and her babies. Paula's always been someone I looked up to: took up the flute because she played it. Would go out hiking in the woods and chase snakes around because she did. Dyed my (curly, blonde) hair black because hers is. Heck, even got into "blood sport" because it was a thing for her, too. My nickname for her is Artemis or Diana, by the way.



I'm an Avar-Viking hybrid; Paula's an Avar-Tatar melange. Here, she's reading a Dutch mercenary's account of the exploits of her probable ancestor Stenka Razin's insurgance against the Tsar. Apparently, this sort of upstart stuff runs in the family. I can't confirm it, but have it on fairly decent authority that an Austrian prince left his noble wife for one of our ancestors - a lowly maid. Paula's looking into this.



Though, of course, she loves all animals, my Diana only has hunting dogs around her. This is Odie (short for Odin). He's a pitbull/English Bulldog hybrid. Though he's just a puppy (or a poopie, depending on your regionality), he's pretty hefty. Still, he thinks he's a kitten. And look at that pink nose-nose. (eee!) Of course I'm afraid of him, but he's still pretty loveable.



Toby, I'm sure, is 1/2 Shepherd, 1/2 timberwolf. He's a good foot or so taller than me if he jumps. Can't jump much, though, as he's 14, has serious arthritis and, interestingly enough, Marfan's disease. Still, and I saw it with my own eyes, he's happy. Though he's not long for this world, it isn't his time yet.


***

*Yeah, yeah, I know I shouldn't play favorites.

Here's Aunt Suzie's obituary. Dad summed things up pretty nicely. The Zees are a very fractious family - heck, we make the Borgias look like poster children for Family Values. For the most part, though, people behaved, thank heavens (Stuff could have been much, much worse).

Crème Brûlée and Cattails.



Katia's Irish Tweed, something that just came out in the fall. Am loving working with this tasty melange of wool, silk and nylon; is both a pleasure to look at and to touch. I'm working 32 stitches on my airplane needles - size 6-7 circulars - in what I can only describe as a fake brioche stitch. (All rows: Sl 1 *K2 P1* K1) Great airplane knitting; interesting pattern that works well with the flecks and slubs of color in the yarn.

Picked this up at the stall in the market at Versailles that sells notions and not-too-expensive but actually quite nice wools. Was a skein short, so sent the Frenchie out to get another - he was kind of amazed that the woman at the stall not only remembered him, but remembered our conversation about yarn requirements, etc. (Course she would remember! It's her job. Aside from that, I'm a fair rarity there in that I'm a stranger who doesn't rest cloistered behind the gates of the palace. My accent and chew-yer-ear-offedness tend to mark me, as a result.) Will finish this scarf hopefully on the plane ride over.

Worked a bit on it on the Buffalo flights, but really couldn't put my heart into it. It wasn't the sadness, but rather a book that I got caught up in.

Was a bit early for a date with a girlfriend from the ex job a couple weeks ago, so decided to browse around Rodney's in Central Square. Anyway, happened on another volume in Euell Gibbons's series on foraging that I'd never heard of. I believe that the Beachcomber's Handbook may have been one of the last that he wrote. It certainly was the most literary. In any event, I devoured it, digested it well, and was rewarded with sweet dreams.



Actually, I'd never seen the pinecone commercial. I remember the cattails, however, from childhood. Was fascinated by the idea of eating what seemed to grow like weeds around my aunt and uncle's house.

If I didn't have so much darn other stuff to be reading (am a bit behind in my classes), I'd bring another of his field guides along for airplane reading. Maybe I still will. We'll see.

Got back from Buffalo on Saturday night and nearly immediately started preparations for tomorrow's flight out. Really, I'm not the jet setting type. Things just kind of worked out this way.

(Just a little tune I remember loving when I was younger. Is kind of comforting in an odd way.)

More sad news.

Though not unexpected. My mom's sister passed away today; just got the call a little while ago. Of course, the cousins are in shock. Life's been a nightmare for all of them for quite a while now, due to their own serious domestic upheavals, the awfulness that's been our collective family life, and their mom's illness.

On one hand, I can feel the already broken heart being rent further. I want to cry like crazy, but am holding it back. On the other hand, she had been in so much pain for the past as far as I can remember.

(Please think good thoughts for her, her husband, her daughters. They really need them now.)

Bird Log.

8:30 am - Saturday.

+30 sparrows
1 Chickadee (they used to be so common - now a rarity. Wonder why?)



Our brave little friend in the yew tree by the kitchen window.

4 House Finches (recent new visitor - started coming 'round at about Darwin's Birthday. Poetic justice, that.) - 2 males, 2 females

1 Gold Finch (I'm thinking that it might be a he, given the particularly strong markings on the wings and tail.

And four little nestlings yet to be identified:



(Happy Valentine's Day!)

Tired. Very long day. Am glad it's over.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a bit calmer.

Doesn't surprise me that they'd be concerned. After all, they're most likely the ones who supplied a good bit of the equipment necessary for these projects.

Important lesson learned.

Do not substitute cake for good, wholesome, normal food for two meals; the crash will be spectacular if you do.

What goes better with a fake fur hat than a fake astrakhan scarf?



Monoprix Astrakan Brilliant - two balls for a short scarf that looks pretty sharp when wrapped around the neck twice and buttoned. Just cast 15 or so stitches onto some large-ish needles (I think I used 11s for this.) and knit till you're out of yarn.

I'm not much of a fan of novelty yarns, as I find the knitting dull and the pattern selection kind of limited. (Who would want a whole sweater of the above?) Fell under the spell of Monoprix's notions section (Good stuff! Relatively cheap, too! Not an easy thing to find in Euroland), though, and just had to have this along with a few other 'samples.' Interestingly enough, the attached button cost more than the yarn.

Ended up giving this to Raphaella for Christmas. Kept the hat, though.

This year was a two-caker. My two favorites, too*. Based on that, I'd say that it was a pretty good birthday. Heaven knows it could've been worse.

***

* Cheese Cake and a carrot cake.

Monsieur Scoot brought the cheese cake ("If you're going to make this, get the real Philadelaphia cheese. Don't buy the off brand." was his stern admonishment). It's a long time since I had my favorite - Grandma Z's Eagle Brand no bake one - but Scoot's was a great substitute.

The carrot cake came from my current boss. She shaped it like a heart and put a big "one" candle on it, as, though I'm not yet Jack Benny's age, I'm certainly not far off. Wish I had my camera with me, it was so cute. There was plenty left to share, too.

Earlier I talked about how the sunrises here were a hard act to follow. Looks like the evening sky managed pretty well:



Bonsoir, mesdames. The moon is waxing luminous with her girlfriend (what I believe to be) Venus on this gorgeous, soft Friday night. It being ladies' night out, they actually put Orion in his place (rather pallid, to the east of them).

It's going to be a good weekend; the stars said so.

Peach Bloom Sunrise.



The smudges are from frost. When the crystals are big enough, they play with the morning sun to create a sort of kaleidoscope effect.

Seeing the sun rise out the hall window is the generally highlight of my day. I wouldn't say that anything (apart from me, since I have to descend a very steep hill to get to work) goes downhill after that, just that this is a hard act to follow.

Twice this week, while changing from the red to the orange line, have had an interesting and actually rather pleasant auditory experience. In the right ear (the one closest to the train), have heard a somewhat high-pitched whistle, as though steam was trying to escape from a leak in a tube. The left ear was picking up on a conversation in Vietnamese.



With any luck, I'll pass the same place at the right time again tomorrow.

Am feeling a bit flat. Haven't been getting much good sleep as, for the past week or so, have been contending with the return of nightmares I'd not had in a long time. Part of it's the current family problems, part of it is the birthday coming up.

I don't mind the getting older part. Heck, it's another year between me and an unhappy past. What really bothers me is the fact that these are supposed to be happy times (like the holidays, I guess), but, no matter how hard I work at putting a good face on, I can't seem to not feel down.

Had a bit of sausage and a bit of shrimp left in the freezer, so decided to mix it up with some canned tomatoes, mixed vegetables, onion, garlic and red beans for something that seems to resemble a gumbo. Smells good, anyway.

Flights make for good knitting time, as I'm generally too tired or freaked out to concentrate on reading and often there isn't anything any good on the movie channel.



Malabrigo pre-felted wool the color of birch leaves in fall. Was kind of hard to part with this.

This one got started and finished on two separate trips to France. On the second flight over, was a great means of checking out of my rather unpleasant spot between a couple of Tag Heuer-sporting unpleasant business class passengers (got bumped up in a classic Continental clusterf---). The one fellow wasn't too thrilled at my not being impressed by his spending Christmas week at his friend's chalet in Switzerland. Apparently I knew the neighborhood too well and and asked too many questions. The other one's girlfriend (who I thought was his daughter at first) just.kept.staring.at.me. Weirdly. Obsessively almost.

I know I only had a cloth coat and I didn't treat the help with the proper disdain for not knowing the vintages of their complimentary beverage service, but still. Am much more comfortable being (worthy) poor and, I guess, sitting in steerage.

Anyway, back to the yarn at hand: very pleasant to the touch and comforting to work with. The stitch pattern wasn't too complicated and didn't get lost in the color variation. Also, it was destined for someone. It's always nice to have a recipient in mind when you're making something, as you can focus your good thoughts on that someone.

The scarf was very well-received, apparently. According to one friend, almost the only time the recipient takes it off is to shower.

Though I'd much rather be walking to work, I will admit that riding the train's been good for my needlework. Since knitting's become mainstream now, too, I have far fewer people bothering me while I work than the last time I took the T to work. (Never saw anyone being grilled over their choice of reading matter. Don't know why people felt it necessary to engage me in conversation while I was otherwise engaged. Really annoying.) The productive time is showing as I appear to be knocking off something like an item a week.

Here's some of what I've either got in the works or have finished. Hopefully the collection will keep growing.

While I was away, I saw some silly article from the NYT about how illiterate/dumb/inferior to the new president our former president is based on comparisons of what he's (actually) read vs whatever it is that the current president's myspace page says that he read. Whatever. What really intrigued me was that our former president engaged in a reading contest with the vice president for several years running. For reasons that should be apparent to anyone who hasn't been hit by the "GWB is an idiot, nyah" stick, though he didn't ever beat the vice president, he still got a lot of good reading in. Anyway, here's a list of some current favorites. Lots of really interesting biographies, histories, mysteries.

Well, that got me to thinking. If the president could read a book a week (in spite of what most of my neighbors may think, a very intelligent president. Trust me, history will bear this out) with all of his responsibilities, exigences, etc, surely I with my 1/2 time school schedule and 1/2 time work schedule could do the same at least. Anyway - have made it my goal now that I'm feeling better to do a lot more reading. A book a week, in addition to what I'm studying, if possible.

Here's what I've read so far:

Freakonomics - Picked this up for an Euro at Paris's version of the Salvation Army. I'd heard so much about it, couldn't resist at that price. It turned out to be one of those books that kept me up at nights thinking. Economics to me had before been nothing but dry histories, arguments over the merits of central planning vs market systems, etc. etc. This view as one of incentives was refreshing and interesting, albeit somewhat depressing/upsetting at times. In all, a wonderful 'opening up' of the mind. I found the essays on abortion and crime, on the economics of a crack gang in Chicago, and on how one of the authors proved allegations of cheating on standardized tests by CPS teachers particularly engaging.

How to Cook a Wolf - Pavel got this for me for Christmas. More a treatise on how to keep strong during a time of great privation than an actual cookbook (though there are some recipes within that are both deliciously simple and, well, curious, to put it kindly), MFK Fisher's guide on how to survive on wartime rations both physically and spiritually really tugged at my heart strings. (Gosh, if ever I could be able to write like anyone, it'd be like her.)

Consider the Oyster - another half-cookbook half-memoir on a very dear to my heart subject (with more chowder and stew recipes than I ever thought possible).

Why We Suck - All I can really say is, Move Over, Allan Bloom. (Have a serious soft spot for Denis Leary - Doctor - Denis Leary. Picked this up in Newark before Christmas, as, well, I really liked the cover picture. Figured that it'd make a nice foil for the copy of the New Criterion and Foreign Affairs I'd also picked up. Read it on the way back home. Okay: I don't agree with Herr Doktor Leary's politics; 'course I wouldn't. However, I found the anecdotes about his family charming and the cynical guy's proclamations of love for his family genuine. Very refreshing.)

La Revanche - The Frenchie told me that Grisham had come out with some very good non-lawyer stories. He really enjoyed the version originale, so, while waiting for my delayed flight at Roissy, picked the translation up for the heck of it. I think I might like the original better (about American Football in Italy), as the translation's a poor one.

What am I reading now? This. Will talk about it later. It's another one that's causing me to lose sleep at night, it's so riveting. Want to read more this guy.

What's next on the list?

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

The Federalist Papers

Carnets d'Enquetes

No real theme going on here, except maybe that I don't tend to read much fiction.

What are your reading plans for the near future / the year?

Improvised Minestrone.

Needed something warm based on stuff from the larder. This was a surprisingly good improvisation.

1 can (13-16 oz) White Kidney Beans

1 can (same size) tomatoes (this time around, I used some store brand stewed tomatoes with green pepper and 'latin' spices)

1 small package mixed vegetables (just like that creepy canned Veg-All, only frozen: diced carrots, lima beans, potatoes, corn)

1 8oz container sliced mushrooms

1 onion

2 cloves of garlic

3-4 bay leaves

salt-pepper, basil, oregano
to taste

2 T olive oil

3-4 cubes bouillion (doesn't matter which flavor)

3-4 c water

Chop onion, mince garlic. Saute in olive oil until transparent. Add canned tomatoes, beans, frozen veggies, water, herbs/spices. Simmer 1/2 hour. Add mushrooms. Continue simmering until mushrooms are soft. Serve with bread, rice, pasta, whatever you like.


***

Amazing how acts of desperation can turn into keepers sometimes. Enjoy.

Pattern Recognition.

Hard to stomach, but just try to sit through this one:



After the creeped-outedness wore off, a realization struck. Doesn't it sound an awful lot like this?:



(Thanks, Pablo.)

Treats!

So, this weekend, the Wells Fargo Wagon made its way down my street. And what it leave on my doorstep? Many wonderful things:



Beautiful emerald glass. I saw these and just had to get them. Not only because they were exactly the same colo(u)r as what my loverly Auntie Scoot collects, but because they remind me of some of the glasses that are still kicking around in my family that my (literal) bohemian relatives made in the New World when they quit the old Empire. (Not in East Cambridge, though I think they'd have liked it there, nor in Ohio, but in Buffalo, back when Libbey had a plant there.)



"What are the Rights of Man and the Liberties of the World but Loose-Fish? What all men's minds and opinions but Loose-Fish? What is the principle of religious belief in them but a Loose-Fish? What to the ostentatious smuggling verbalists are the thoughts of thinkers but Loose-Fish? What is the great globe itself but a Loose-Fish? And what are you, reader, but a Loose-Fish and a Fast-Fish, too?"

A sweet little whale who looks as though he could have leapt off the pages of one of the Rockwell Kent editions.



An unexpected little something that I've got big plans for.

Morning in Asia.

Half awake, enjoying the first sip of coffee and the last bit of calm of the day, I was greeted by Pavel:

"You know, Ronald Reagan said that in 1980 it was Morning in America Again. Today, it's Morning in Asia."



Those crazy French, putting their perfume in the least apparent of places. Had the choice between "Asian Morning" and "Caribbean Breeze." The stockperson said that he had to live with large quantities of both and could discern no difference between the two.

Dormancy.



About the only thing that can grow here in January.

Can't really start the practical garden work here until about mid-April. The months up till then is when one dreams, plans, plots things out.

The gardening catalogues started arriving in December. Broke out the graph paper for planning out the new garden just the other day: looks like lots of shade and wet loving plants in the yard. Any vegetables or fruits will have to be grown in containers on the patio and balconies. All this will need to be protected, too, from all the folks we've invited to dinner over the winter.

Pavel wants a tree for the front. For as long as I've known him, he's wanted an American dogwood. This last season, he sort of changed his mind and is now looking for a mountain ash (good idea - much hardier). I'd like that he get a crabapple maybe, too. Hopas make the best jelly.

Am marvelling at work that goes on in our protective little pods before we bust out again in Spring.

And over at the Presidential Palace in Tehran, Chavez's BFF is all like,

"You...said...Bush."




¡Mira! ¡En Español! Really, I think I'm onto something here.

Pro Israel Rally in Copley Square



Though bitter cold out, there were still plenty of people (+1000?). Spirits were pretty up, too. Lots of signs driving home the fact that Israel has a right to defend herself, that Hamas were terrorists who target civilians. (My favorite read "Israeli Self Defense is a Mitzvah.")

The other side numbered perhaps a couple hundred tops and seemed to be comprised mainly of dyspeptic-looking Cambridge UU types. Lots of signs about "stopping genocide."

In all, a very positive thing to run into on the way home.

Fur Hat.

Remember a while back when I was talking about wanting a fur hat to go with the fluffy mittens I was making? Well, ask and you shall receive.

I love it. Found it around New Year's time at one of those little boutiques that seem to be cropping up everywhere in former industrial areas that are now rezoned "hip." This particular one, with its expensive goods and minimalist decor, could have been anywhere in the West or West-imitating world. In fact, I'd have thought myself Union Square, Somerville instead of Puteaux if all the prices weren't in Euros.

Anyway, have noted that the French seem really into fur this winter, major accessories being fur scarves, hats and (I'm shaking my head at this one) rabbit-fur vests. Does my heart good, on one hand, to see that PETA holds little sway there. On the other hand, fur farming practices where a lot of this stuff is coming from (my guess is China - tried on a real, non-antique fox-fur hat that was only like 90 EE. Can't imagine that being made over there for that cheaply.) is kind of upsetting to think about, so opted for a lovely fake.

Of course, now I need a new scarf and gloves to go with the hat. Haven't decided yet what would go best: maybe dark brown, maybe black. The Frenchie says that, if I get a red coat and the riding boots I've been eyeing for a couple years now, I'll be having a problem with men falling at my feet. I like the idea of a red coat, but not so much the random men dropping like flies around me. That sounds kind of annoying.

Awfully tired lately; am just not bouncing back like I used to. Did manage to get registered for the stuff I wanted to take this semester and buy books, though.

All this, by the way, is just my holding onto one vine while I search for the next one to grab onto.

Will talk more about that later.

Ugh.

Feels like I have a touch of what I'm just going to call "DeGaulle's Revenge."

Busy Day.

I'd arranged for some part-time temporary work at a local school. Turns out that they want me full-time for at least this week. Though I like them well enough, I'm not keen on working anywhere full time right now*.

As my grades were so surprisingly stellar**, I decided to treat myself to the sequel to the Western Civilization course I took last semester. Enjoyed it immensely and, well, I'm a sucker for a good potboiler. Since this all but depletes the History offerings at the school, I'm thinking maybe of an Economics course as well. We'll see.

Anyway, the registration has to be accomplished before work. Work's all day after that and it promises to be hectic. Need to fit in haggling with Commonwealth effing Care and my alma mater. Also need to get a couple doctor appointments arranged.

It'll all get done. I'll be fine. Just am a little cranky at leaving the house right now.

***

*No, I'm not independently wealthy. My ability to take time off, take classes and get my life straightened out comes from the fact that, while everyone else around me seemed to be buying Priuses, iPhones, flat-screen TVs and adjustable-rate mortgages, I was paying off my credit card and student loans, searching for a cheaper place to live and saving money. It took time, and, unfortunately, a job that I didn't much care for that paid well. But, well, life's sometimes about delayed gratification. Am not into job-hopping, as I was never raised to believe in that elusive to the point of being almost non-existent "perfect fit" in the work world. How could there ever be with my background?

**An A- for one class: Not bad, considering I got a pretty awful grade on one assignment when the whole thing with my brother went down> Must have aced the exam. Will ask the professor if I can see it. I had this really odd feeling I'd never experienced before that I did incredibly well. The other class, the one I was worried about, was a straight A. Maybe good grades shouldn't come as such a surprise for me, as it seems that whenever I actually do the work, I end up with almost perfect scores. Funny how that works.

Daube.

I always find it interesting when I go on an improvisational streak and end up with what is considered a classic by someone else.

We'd picked up a decent-sized piece of beef (guaranteed French) at Leclerc (kind of a French Walmart - right down to the messy aisles and depressing flourescent lighting) with the intention of making a bourgignon. Got home and found that all the recipes we had for said bourgignon were way too fussy, so decided to make my own something with the cheap meat and cheap wine. The ex-Mme. Frenchie, who was served this for an impromptu lunch and who grew up in Provence, declared what I'd made a "daube."

Looked up what I did in Cook's Illustrated, and found that, though mine didn't have all the ingredients that theirs did, it was indeed a sort of daube.

Anyway, for posterity:

1 1/2 lbs beef (for last night's dinner, I used a bit of steak I got on "manager's special" at Stah), cut into bite-sized cubes

2 cups beef bouillion

2 cups good enough for drinking, but not that great red wine (last night's had a California Merlot); let's be reasonable, folks.

3-4 carrots, scrubbed and cut into coins about 1/2 inch thick)

(a handful or two of sliced mushrooms)

1 onion, diced

a clove or two of garlic, minced

a couple bay leaves if you have them. (The Frenchie has a couple laurel trees in his garden, so, we're spoiled. I had to use the jarred stuff here as, well, since I was already taking a chance by smuggling a bit of pate in, I wasn't going to press my luck by bringing a handful of tree leaves home as well. If one or the other was confiscated, I could handle it. Both would be a heartbreak).

2-3 T olive oil

Saute onion in olive oil until transparent. Add garlic and saute a bit until that's tender. Add beef. When cubes are browned on all sides, add carrots, the bouillon, bay leaves and simmer until carrots are tender. Add wine and simmer further until liquid is reduced. Serve with small boiled potatoes, noodles, good bread and a salad.

Serves four. If you can manage it, try to have leftovers. They're even better.

If you take a look at the meteo, you will note that not just Paris, but all of France got nailed by snow and cold weather. Perhaps it was due to their major source of hot air heading south and west for Christmas break.

Anyway, below freezing temperatures and maybe three inches of snow does not seem like much to us stoics in the US Northeast, but it was devastating, I tell you, devastating to Paris.



The haze is actually smog.

My stomping grounds are in a place called Suresnes, which, like Somerville, is a rapidly gentrifying industrial city. Also like Somerville, it is very hilly. Was very interesting to see something like four accidents within the first hour of snowfall around the block from the house*.

Walking was pretty difficult, as things had iced up a lot. Given the grades of some of the hills and the lack of snow cleanup, I probably should have brought my crampons in addition to the boots and winter coat. Still, it was pleasant to be out and the change in weather (first Christmas snow in more than 10 years?) seemed to provide a much-needed lift to folks' spirits. I noticed a lot more people smiling this last time than on past visits.

***

*That's right, Paris, like Boston, has more than enough a$$hole drivers. Perhaps Paris has even more, proportion-wise. The Frenchie's always trying to get me to drive there, but I won't. Haven't driven here at all in four years because the freaks on wheels scare me so. Don't see why I'd start there, where the laws are different and the roads more treacherous.

Actually, a Peterson guide to North American birds would be nice, too. My birthday's coming up at the end of the month, so maybe I'll spring for one.

Thought about the Sibley guide, but, figured that, since my (snort) extensive library of field guides tends towards Peterson, might as well not break up the set.

Anyone out there prefer the Sibley one? If so, why? I know that, years ago, when the new illustrated one came out, it made a huge splash. I'm not enough of a bird enthusiast to understand the finer points of these things.

Got the Frenchie to put out suet and seed for his garden dwellers, as well. Was amazed at how different or exotic the common varieties over there seem.

First of all, there were the Geai (pronounced Jay). In French, they're called Geai des Chenes (oak jays); in English, Eurasian Jays. These guys are about the size of pigeons, grey with only flashes of blue on the wings. Very impressive. Though I didn't hear their calls, I'm told that they are kind of strident - perhaps like our blue jays here?

There seemed to be plenty of mesanges, or chickadees (tit family, anyway, I think) around. The interesting thing about the ones I saw was the variation of coloring: some had deep blue, almost violet caps instead of black. Others had, instead of white throats, cream or even yellow ones.

Can't forget the pies - first cousins to crows and jays. These fellows are super talkative and are black with stunning white flashes on their wings and long tails. These may be my favorites.

The Frenchie's favorites, he told me, are the rouge-gorges. I was very interested to see one, as I'd figured that they'd be like the North American robins. Turned out I was wrong. They look more like bluebirds, only with grey instead of blue coats. They are quite pretty.

I really need to get an European bird book. Didn't get a chance to hunt one down, as we never actually made it to Paris (or the big bookstore in Versailles). The Frenchie seems to think that he might have an older guide in among the cartons of stuff that belonged to his parents that he packed away. Apparently his mother enjoyed watching birds.

Though I got back last Thursday (the 8th), it's taken me a couple days after that to somewhat return to the land of the living. For some reason, and I'm not really sure why, have managed to reverse days and nights. Maybe it's a combination of stress and the Winter absence of light.

Anyway, tired of being tired, I dosed myself with valerian last night and managed to sleep straight through to this morning. Came down for my coffee and found that the yew tree, bent again with the snow, was a hotbed of bird activity.

The first ones (and they were up before me) I saw were the juncos, or snowbirds. They're little grey ones, about the size of sparrows, with white bellies and light colored beaks. Plain little things, they might be my favorites.

Was happy to see the bluejay couple as well as Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal back. Mr. Cardinal only makes periodic cameos, as I think he's keeping an eye out on his territory. Mrs. Cardinal, a beautiful olivey-brown color with an orange beak, seems to be a regular in the yew, among the sparrows and juncos. Notably absent are the tufted titmice and the chickadees. Wonder where they all went.

While I was away, Pavel had to buy a new feeder. He got one of those anti-squirrel contraptions with a grill that lowers over the feed openings with the weight of those fat grey pestilent types (phooey). Saw two squirrels go at it this morning and get very frustrated. Does my heart good, as now we won't have to refill the darn thing every day.

Inside the house is a gosh-darned mess and I do dread all the cleanup that needs to be done. It is nice to get back to the kitchen window, though.