For What It's Worth.

Pavel jotted off a last minute note to our so-called representative the other night voicing all his unhappiness with the all but certain Yes-Vote that Capuano is going to make:

Count me as one more very disapproving constituent. Health care reforms, please, but NOT THESE REFORMS.

I may write you too late to influence your vote. I have just learned from here

http://www.boston.com/news/politics/politicalintelligence/2010/03/capuano_yes_on.html

that you intend to vote yes for the so-called health reform bill as passed by the Senate in December. Still, you should hear my opinion as one more sample of those you represent.

I am one of many who believe this bill is an opaque, bureaucracy-building monstrosity that does little to address the true causes of excessive costs for health care, while adding dangerously to the nation's future debt burdens, and failing to enlarge consumer choice.

I am strongly opposed to a national individual mandate, on pain of tax penalties -- a provision of very dubious constitutionality.

Will my middle-aged premiums then become greater without all the young people compelled to bear the costs shifted away from me?

Well firstly, that's only just. Young and healthy adults in early career with lower incomes, and looking to start their own families, shouldn't be discouraged by shifting more of their earnings to aging generations than they do already. We oldsters selfishly kill the golden goose when we deter the child-bearing generations with a regressive tax.

(And an effective tax it is, when we are compelled to purchase what we would otherwise not -- no matter whether the actual collector be a private insurer, or government. If the President makes such a provision a law, then he will have reneged on his pledge not to impose new taxes on low and middle earners. Quite simply, he will be a liar.)

And secondly, I say give me the choice to elect for less comprehensive, catastrophic coverage and just pay fee for service in routine care, analogously as I insure only for car collision repair and not for fluid fill-ups.

Is the mandate needed to make the future system work, if insurers are not to deny coverage on the basis of preexisting conditions? Well then, just drop that misguided crusade against the companies, however heartless that sounds! Insurers are not to be blamed for running real insurance businesses in a rational manner. If my uninsured house burns, I can't then demand that an insurer cover it retroactively for pennies. The insurance business would be impossible with such incentives. No, my earlier irresponsibility is my problem. I want to hear an unsentimental realist of a politician tell this unpopular but necessary message to the people.

Will I eat those words if I lose my job and my coverage with it? I can't pay COBRA premiums beyond a limited term, even if I'm willing and able to. I am prevented even from being "responsible," as I called it, even if I have means. Extraneous eventualities -- my changes of employment -- may compel me to terminate one policy and begin another, and become an undeserving victim of the precondition trap.

Well sir, there is the real unaddressed core of the "crisis."

Why should the continuation of my relationship with my insurer be conditional on anything but my continued premium payments and non-fraudulence in my claims? Why do so many of us accept it as normal that one's health insurance is non-portable after a job change? That makes no sense: we should no more buy health insurance than home insurance through employers, indirectly. But an irrational tax code makes employer-provided insurance advantageous over individually purchased insurance. Worse, the incentive to use these pre-tax dollars even for routine care (thus turning "insurance" into a health-maintenance subscription, making nonsense of the word), and resulting over-consumption, is what causes the spiral of premium inflation that we all complain about.

So end that tax advantage! (As presidential candidate McCain suggested.) Fix the incentives. Employees should get more direct, not imputed, pay in exchange for the responsibility to shop for their own health insurance and maintain it, and to become smart shoppers for routine care.

We need a true national free market in insurance policies. The authors of the Constitution were wise to know that barriers to trade among the states should not be imposed at the will of state governments -- which would have retarded economic development and impoverished all. What's good for tangible goods is no less good for a financial product like insurance. The federal government should use its authority to govern interstate commerce, to strike down the states' barriers to health insurance purchases.

We need consumers to be free to purchase as much or as little coverage as they choose. We need incentives for individually purchased insurance to become the norm. We need a wider market of many competing providers keeping each other "honest" -- and no insulting nonsense (thankfully off the table, but which certain House members would have put past us last year, if they could) about setting up a costly new governmental entity just to get us a single "competitor" with the very unfair advantage of subsidy. (Don't insult me a second time either with the promise that this entity would remain funded only by premiums collected. Political pressure would change that in no time.)

The alternative ideas for health care reform are out there. The President was downright wrong when he suggested that the opposition to the reform bill have no alternative ideas. Any insinuation that opponents to this bill's "reforms" are opponents of all reforms, satisfied with the status quo, is very dishonest.

These alternative ideas require strokes of the legislative pen to change regulations and alter incentives in the marketplace from the perverse ones existing now. What they do not require are costly new bureaucracies to direct transfers of wealth. They are easily explained and understood and could be embodied in a bill one hundredth of the size of the one that is now pending.

But I wait for that in vain in the present, deeply dishonest political and media climate, where a bloated and overreaching government, colluding with insurers that are really only too happy to add the advantage of forced consumers to that of competition barriers, is instead portrayed as the white knight slaying the big bad corporate dragons preying on the widows and orphans. Such a sham insults my intelligence.

Mr. Capuano, you had the opportunity to surprise me pleasantly, when you wavered on this bill. But if you get on that bandwagon after all, then you may not rely on my vote for your reelection.

The people of our state voted FOR obstruction of this bill in the special senate election. That was an explicit appeal in Senator Brown's campaign and in the slogans of supporters. They do not trust this bill. They want it scrapped and redrafted along fundamentally different lines. I hear it in casual conversation even in my eighth-district neighborhood. I heard it even today, from a government employee no less.

Do not delude yourself about this.

***

Pavel is much better with written words than I am; feel that he explained it best for the situation of an awful lot of 'average' folks.

I'm totally against the so called reform, as, being a 'consumer' (or should I say 'victim?') of the Massachusetts Jailbreak, (that the current President has considered as a national model) have my own set of problems that are more considerably and consistently costly, not to mention subject to Bureaucratic Incompetency than whenever I had to deal with a doctor's office or hospital directly.

(Have been too tired lately to detail my problems of not being able to afford COBRA for MA inflated rates, my problems with hack state a/r folks and the lack of customer service with, the fact that I live in one of the maybe three states that my alma mater's catastrophic coverage insurance plan doesn't cover for new gradutates, and the fact that, the minute I try to send off the application for Commonwealth Care's subsidized plan, I am forced to tick off a box allowing the State of MA full access to my medical records. Much, much easier, not to mention cheaper to pay the state income tax penalty and to visit and pay cash for a doctor like one did for the 'back alley abortionists' of yore.)

Not Quite There Yet. Just the Same:



Spring, April, Poetry Month. So much to look forward to.

Sunshine's streaming in through the back windows; am multitasking my way through two knitting projects and a stack of way-overdue correspondence while listening to the Iceland Symphony Orchestra perform a favorite by Sibelius. Life does have its bright moments.

Oh, finished the Fascist interpretation of Second Century Rome last night. It ended on a note of longing for the a rebirth of Sparta; second best - the return of the Roman Republic. Really interesting. Anyway, put that aside and am now digging into the first volume of John Julius Norwich's look at Byzantium. Just about 20 pages in, see that it's going to be fun. Such a refreshing contrast to the actually pretty poorly written book I picked up as a (disappointing) Birthday present to myself a bit back.

Had noticed that, when I'm down, tend to isolate myself when the healthiest thing is probably to be reaching out.

Tried a bit at breaking the feedback loop I'm in and find that, actually, am feeling a bit better for having done so. Things aren't great, but they could certainly be a whole heck of a lot worse.

Ooh! Some folks sleep walk, others eat, I actually write while asleep.* See it as a sort of 'exquisite corpse' between the hand and the brain, and often I have a hard time trying to figure out what was filtering its way through the consciousness to the paper/keyboard/etc.

Anyway, a bit editing of the last post for clarification: Took a look at the sidebar links and noted that one friend was a bit unhappy for a couple reasons - lost a friend and sold an instrument.
Neither is catastrophic, but can be upsetting, I understand. Anyway, had a couple solutions to offer:

1.) On the lost friend, maybe not lost, just misplaced. As he's done a bit of song writing before, maybe should consider writing a song (or a poem - next month's Poetry month in the US; in the UK, I think poetry month falls in May.) about the experience. That or (and this is a bit radical) contact the friend and try to hash things out.

2.) Instrument-wise - that can be bought back or replaced. I recently lost some no longer published sheet music and some pretty valuable books in the recent bad weather. Am still kind of sick about this, but will get over it. If he played and I could afford the shipping, would gladly send him one of the two pianos in my life, as only need one and don't rightly what to do with the other.

Life has a way of throwing us for a loop sometimes. I'm in a couple serious pickles right now and am having a hard time seeing past the bad. I think, or at least hope that things will get better; that hope is kind of all that I have right now.

***


*Interestingly enough, when was a kid, used to talk a lot, too - apparently my brother and I could carry on entire conversations while asleep and have no recollection of what we talked about.

Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors.

As I said earlier - Pi Day's kind of cute. It's at the Ides, though, when you have to be watching your back.

In Memoriam.



Here's that shawl that I was talking about earlier. Was so pleased at how it turned out that trudged out in the rain on Saturday morning to photograph it.

The fence was getting to be a bit long in the tooth. Was kind of funny, though, to see a pile of broken wooden slats in its place this morning. Lost most of the fence along the back and the side opposite to this bit of wood as well.

Was mentioning to Pavel that I thought it might be cheaper and prettier to replace the wood with shrubs: lilacs in the space pictured, as there're already two trees there; mountain laurels on the opposite side; across the back, due to drainage issues, pussy willows and/or forsythia. Of course, all's contingent on what we can find at the local Home Depot. (Wish us luck.)

Just because we absolutely had to get out of the house, decided to take a drive out to Concord today.



This was Alewife Brook, between Somerville and Cambridge (just before the turn off to route 2). Was pretty darn swollen. When we got to that turn off to Route 2 (just before the Alewife T station), noted that Route 16 was closed due to flooding.

As we went further west, saw all sorts of high water street closures like this one near Concord Center:



Basement flooding and the loss of whatever fencing in the yard was still standing after the last northeaster (the one that one didn't hear much about due to the freak snows further south) aside, I guess we got off lucky.

(Am trying to keep a positive outlook on this, anyway. A good bit of my life is in the basement and am just not up to seeing just how much of it's gone. A vein in the temple started throbbing when I saw a couple pretty much irreplaceable partitions buckled, moldy and soaking. Will deal with it later. At least rain's going to stop tomorrow and we have a dehumidifier.)

Pattern Recognition.

(As have been saying for the past couple years, the above is the across the Atlantic version of the mess The Great Unwashed voted in here.)

Bless Peter Graves



For some of the funniest self-perpetuating one-liners ever. (May he rest in peace.)

***

(For those of you who loved him earlier than the above, one of my favorite versions of the theme from "Mission Impossible:")

Yes, so it's Pi Day. Cutesy and kind of geeky.

Tomorrow's the Big Day, as far as I'm concerned.

Pattern Recognition.



Noted a bit ago that this one looked an awful lot like something in those film strips we had to watch in Health Class back when they'd separate us into boy and girl groups for a few days each year.

Heavens.

Because we all know that folks in the chastiser's neck of the woods are such proponents of Free Trade.

Currently re purposing a beautiful spice-colored striped cowl neck that I found in my
"to do" pile so that it might serve a purpose. Looking at it and working it kind of hurts, but am soldiering on.

Interesting and Not Unexpected.

In fact, it makes perfect sense from a business standpoint.

I'm kind of curious about something, too, given that the last major delay I experienced was due to hasty implementation of poorly defined security regulations. Are airlines (and ultimately the passengers/their clients) to be penalized if the delay is directly related to government policy?

Interesting that the diacritical sometimes used over the n in Habanero (and which is almost always pronounced) - ñ - is actually a hyperforeignism. I did not know that. Is nice to learn something new every now and again.

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.

Gratuitous Reference to Shadows On a Cave Wall:



Not a big fan of most of what I've seen by Bertolucci, but The Conformist is probably one of the most beautiful and sad films have seen. Trintignant's also one of the very few actors I've ever actually had a crush on.

which comes with a call to reread the the bit about the philosophers' drinking party. (My favorite. Of course, it's a popular subject among girls. Not so much the drinking part and the trash talk beforehand, though it is kind of entertaining here.)

Pho.

Am on a quarterly schedule with a lot of friends - not bad or good, just is so. Actually, I think that an awful lot of folks run on that sort of calendar due to life changes, etc. At holiday time, it gets worse. Family issues strike, even more so. Anyway, one of the brighter sparks in my life that'd been somewhat reduced to a distant glimmer, came back into the foreground lunchtime today*. Enjoyed the food, particularly enjoyed the company.

Generally, we opt for Asian food of some sort, so decided on the relatively new pho place around the block and down the street from me. Now, I like them; have found the basics that I like and that should be good to be perfectly fine**. He gets out a bit more than I do to such restaurants, so was curious about his take on things. Started off with the summer rolls and an order of tod mun***. Was first off charmed that the fish cakes were obviously made by hand, hot and fresh. The sauce was wonderfully perfumed with citronella and coriander. Could feel myself smiling automatically at the taste. Nothing to complain about on the summer rolls, either, save that we couldn't eat all of what they'd given us in order to save room for the soup.

My friend had the pho ga (chicken), while I had bo vien (beef with meatballs). I think he was happy with his; I know that I enjoyed mine. Heck, didn't even feel the need to spice it up with pepper paste or the sweet sauce. Just enjoyed it nature, with the fresh basil and sprouts. As we'd been debating pronunciation of the name, got the definitive answer from the waitress: [fə], just like the French feu****.

Lunch over, time to get back to life. Should get out more to see folks, to lunch in general. Glad that there's a pretty good so far Vietnamese place in the neighborhood. They're actually kind of few and far between north of the Charles.

***

* Am trying my darndest to not reference flickering shadows on a cave wall.

**Summer rolls, bun, Vietnamese crepe. The last is one of my favorite comfort foods, and I think theirs is particularly luscious.

***A serious favorite of mine, but always fraught with hazard. Have ordered this in much more expensive restaurants and have been served what seemed like fish sticks served with a dipping sauce.

****I've read that the pho comes from 'pot au feu.' Makes sense. Come to think of it, most of the soups I make tend to be less French soups than pots au feu; in fact, unless I make something specifically French like an Onion Soup or a veloute, we generally call it pot au feu.

Am nearly halfway done with the final lace chart on my Traveling Woman scarf. Cannot wait to get this thing off the needles. Honestly think the yarn's cursed (was originally for a pair of socks I'd intended for someone who isn't in my life anymore. Hate having stuff lying around like that.)

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.)

As I'd mentioned earlier - had been reading a very interesting book on Ancient Rome by this fellow. The first couple chapters on the structure of the urbs as well as the distribution of domii to insulae (houses vs apartment buildings) and water rights was fascinating; it sort of gave lie to what I'd previously learned about these things in the past.

Where it gets *really* interesting, though, is when we break away from the urban planning study of the eminent Archaeologist and start to look at his interpretation of primary source materials to paint a picture of family life, education, religion, women's roles in society, etc. Even before learning of his placement in Vichy, had a Blink moment where images from Olympia were flashing behind the words. "Hmm, interesting," I thought. "Am learning an awful lot about the writer, too." Anyway, am about 1/2 way through, and am enjoying it on a number of levels.

This has kind of spurred me on to look again at works of the Progressives (the folks who, among other things, brought us the all-white, pro South view of Reconstruction among other things), some of the post-Progressives (like Hofstadter - love how he writes. He makes very clear his prejudices, and very entertainingly so. Will argue forever that The American Political Tradition is one of the best post WWII histories out there - take my praise with a huge grain of salt; I'm new to the History thing), as well as some of the older interpretations of the Middle Ages I'd read in the past life (namely Bedier, Huizinga - scored a copy of his Waning of the Middle Ages at a library sale recently for a quarter. Remembered loving that book as a kid.)

From there, it'd probably be good for me to check out a copy of Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States, if only to see how much I can pick up on him and what I think might be the modern equivalent to Fascist European interpretations of history. (Again, take this with a huge grain of salt; might be totally valid. Then again, fifty to 100 years from now, maybe there'll be another girl sitting reading her dollar copy of the book with the same bemusement that I feel lying in bed with Carcopino's Daily Life in Ancient Rome.)

Am feeling a fair bit better than yesterday, thank heavens. Doesn't make the need to deal with health insurance (up to now, have chosen to pay the penalty - under protest, of course - to the DOR; seems the least bad of the range of options afforded to me) any less necessary; just less driven by emergency concerns.

Kind of long for the days when one could go to a clinic in one of the big hospitals around, barter a bit, and come up with a payment plan. I did this a lot when I was younger and always was treated decently, both by the doctors and the financial staff.

This is amazing.

Interesting to think about, too, that not too far away, regardless of the EU statutes, they'd likely be "suicides" during their period of "protective custody."

Have been feeling like garbage all day. I think and hope that it's just the old gut (I have IBS - sorry for the TMI) just stamping its feet and letting itself be known. If it's anything worse, I'm screwed, as I'm not insured.

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.

This is kind of interesting.

Found it as a sort of appendix/correction to a previous post talking about making popcorn with truffle oil. I clicked the product link and found two things that gave me the



feeling.

First, there's the highlighted brand. Now, nothing against them, but I see Roland products as total tight "budget gourmet" both here and in France. Generally, I'll buy their stuff if I find it at Job Lots or Monoprix, but I'm not going to go out of my way to order or pay boatloads of money. (Above is their American distribution address. For some reason, and I'm only going on gut instinct, I think they're Asian. Don't know.)

Second, the price (approx $7/bottle). That's about the price for a fair to middling bottle of *unflavored* olive oil here. Last time I was au marche in Versailles, I noted that...like...*real* truffles were going for nearly 1000 EE/kg, so just an olive-sized piece to soak would cost a fair bit more than the price of the two bottles for $13 listed here.

Ever since reading Allende's recipe for a truffle in olive oil decoction, I've wanted to try this. Can't do it right now, though, as even if I *could* get truffles in the States, I'd not be able to afford them. So, settled for the next best thing here - a small bottle of truffle *flavored* oil from a local Eye-talian shop. I had no illusions about it, given the price (slightly higher than the inexpensive Spanish stuff I normally buy), but it did the job. Not ashamed of that. But then again, I'm not marketing myself as a gourmet or anything. Am just someone who likes food and who cooks decently enough.

For what it's worth, the reason why I bought the oil was to make a treat for the housemate. He'd described frites drizzled in truffle oil and sprinkled with rosemary. Given my food restrictions right now, I came up with an actually really nice workaround:

Patates Douces aux "Truffes" et Romarin

2 medium-sized sweet potatoes
4 T olive oil flavored with truffle (or not - just wanted to be foofy and nice for the housemate. Used Monini brand from Spoleto, IT, by the way.)
1+ T dried rosemary
salt and pepper to taste

1.) Preheat oven to 375 F.
2.) Wash, dry, cut out bad spots on the sweet potatoes. Slice thinly width-wise (like potato chips).
3.) Toss potatoes in olive oil, rosemary, salt and pepper. Save a bit of oil to rub on a cookie sheet.
4.) Bake for roughly 15 minutes or so, turning over when necessary. Ultimately, you'd like them to be crusty on the outside and softish on the inside.

Pavel actually told me that, though it wasn't very truffly, it was honestly good and a keeper. I was happy because it's totally within the South Beach parameters.

Didn't much talk about what I have in mind for the upcoming year for myself, as, over the past couple years, have had plans scuttled pretty spectacularly. Anyway, have wanted to set the goals low, manageable and as little subject to the vagaries of those around me as possible.

First off, I want to finish the job of losing all the weight I set myself to do last November. Had started at about 195-ish lbs, and am currently at about 177 (yes, gained a few pounds since returning to the States in January.) The goal weight is between about 155-160 lbs; totally within reach. I just have to keep up the good eating as prescribed here.

Exercise has been difficult lately. Most mornings, I have enough trouble finding motivation enough to get out of bed. Have been managing a couple dozen push ups and stomach crunches every day, though, which I guess counts for something.

Handwork-wise, I mentioned wanting to knit one lace project a month already. In addition to that, would like to take one item out of the unfinished pile and finish it/repurpose it/salvage the yarn. Also, would like to confine my knitting to the yarn I've collected over time. There's a lot of it; it really needs to go.

Mentioned also learning to spin - that's been awfully fun, but have to watch out. If I spend too much time doing it, the shoulders and the back start to hurt and the fingers get blistered. Plus, I end up with more yarn to get rid of!

Didn't mention that I also want to teach myself to crochet this year. Funny, but I can manage hundreds of stitches on two or more needles, but just have never got the hang of *one* stitch at a time on *one* hook. Really want to learn to make granny squares, too. Love them.

Then, there's work. I've been seriously underemployed for some time - some of it due to choice, some of it a bit out of my control. Have a couple projects going on at home, but would like to find a few hours a week out of the house. I think it would have to be temporary work. Just something to get me out and build up the bank account a bit.

I took all the history classes at the local community college and really can't afford to go anywhere else right now, so am just trying to do a bit of directed reading. Was a huge fan of Stendhal in my other life, so have picked him up again. Have been trying to supplement that with readings on the Revolution in France, the oscillations between liberalism and absolutism there and in other parts of Europe, // developments in the United States, etc. What I'm taking home from all this is that, heavens, as crazy as things were on my side of the Atlantic, they seem positively straightforward compared to the jailbreak that Europe was at the time.

Am not much into what I guess is called Historiography, but have been reading other things as well and noting how stuff's been interpreted over time. Amazing what you can learn about academic fashions in pre-Vichy France from reading a monograph on Ancient Roman city planning...

My, am running on a bit, aren't I. (More later - am no where near done.)

Works In Progress.

Have been so wrapped up in spinning lately that I've kind of left knitting a bit by the wayside here (not project wise, though). Anyway, this is what's been en chantier the past couple weeks:



This is my little 'sherbet semaphore.' Ordinarily I don't go for this kind of yarn (and really, I shouldn't be spending money on nonessentials right now), but it looked so cheerful on the gloomy day stopped into the store. The pattern is called Baktus, a clever little thing, and well-suited for "mindless" knitting. I only really work on this when am watching a movie or being read to.



One of an eventual matched pair for Monsieur Scoot's mom. The pattern's from an ancient Family Circle knitting magazine, and it's called "Dutch Girl." The seed stitch pattern, though, reminds me of Guernsey sweaters. In any event, I really don't like working on anything that needs a twin, and really, really don't the yarn. (The lady these are meant for is allergic to wool, so I'm using a cotton blend from Rowan yarns.) Can't wait to get these out of my "to do" pile.

The last thing I'm working on is installment #2 of my New Year's resolution to knit a lace scarf or shawl a month. Like with January's project, it's been fun to watch this grow and take wing on the needles. Am using up a good bit of sock yarn from my stash, too, in denim blue and fuchsia variegated. Don't have a picture of it yet, as it's still on the needles (yep, running behind already), but that'll be remedied over the next day or so.

Yesterday, got a phone call from an old neighbor, then ran into another on at the grocery store. Ran into a third on the walk back. Somehow I think that someone's trying to tell me something - like maybe I should stop being so miserable, get out some and see friends? (Don't know.)

Girl Cat had yet another appointment with the Loverly Man in the White Jacket today.
Was put under to have the teeth and gums looked at and taken care of. Cost a fortune, of course, and she's in a bit of pain, due to sutures. Apparently has the same genetic problem as Tony (re absorbtive lesions?) so we have to keep an eye out, of course.

Am so happy to have here home, recovering. Was scared to lose her.

***
Never meant to Fall In Love like this.

Once seen, cannot be unseen.

Vrijdagmuziek.

Een mooi(e) verzion vaan deze loverly, but oh, so decadent adaptation of nasty stuff:



Happy Friday and vrolijke (een beetje spaatelijk?) nieuwjaar! (snort)

Spin Another Yarn

Finally worked my way through all the old roving I had lying around. After washing and hanging the finished mess to dry, measured what I ended up with: have just short of 25 yards. What to do with it, now? Thought of dying it with old tea leaves; decided that if the color was good enough for the sheepje who gave it up, it was good enough for me.

Knit-wise? Hmm. this small quantity of bulky wool won't go terribly far. Maybe I can make a neck warmer or a pair of wrist cuffs. Maybe a pillow (though it'd be a small one). Or perhaps I could incorporate it into the hat I want to make myself before it gets too warm out.



Rough looking, but surprisingly soft.

It's not the prettiest stuff in the world, but am actually kind of darn proud. Someday am sure will spin finer stuff. For now, though, I'm happy to have picked up where I left off and to have made something useful.

Well - the coffee roasting experiment seemed to work out well. Took about 1/3 cup of the beans and put them in an aluminum pie plate one layer deep. Roasted them under the broiler for about two-three minutes on each side.

The roasted beans were only slightly darker than the original ones, but they were much oilier. Also, though the flavor of the coffee was milder than the Trader Joe's stuff, I noted that two cups of it didn't wasn't making me dizzy like the past couple days. Also, the kitchen smelled heavenly.

I might try roasting the stuff longer tomorrow morning; we'll see. Am glad, though, to have found a workaround, even though it is a bit of a pain in the rear. We have like a pound and a half of the city roast left, and it was getting to be painful to drink.

Dad posted
something kind of sweet last night.



Loved him in his tight leather pants phase; love him even more nowadays. (Words in English; Traduction a venir, bien sur!)

Spin a Yarn.

A number of years ago, I treated myself to a drop spindle, some wool and a spinning lesson. For all sorts of reasons (one major one being a back injury that the posture I assumed while spinning was aggravating), I stopped. Resolved this year to get back into 'the spin of things' so to speak.

Gorged myself on How To videos and actually sat down to read the two manuals I had on the subject. Ended up with this last night:



The twist is a lot looser and the resulting product is certainly bulkier than I'd like, but it's a start. I've got just short of 10 yards of it.



This is the second batch that I'm working on - still a lot of variation in thickness and still way bulkier than I'd like, but again, it's a start. Here, I started loosening up a bit. Stopped trying to control the twist and actually let myself feel the transformation of Potential to Kinetic up the strand to the fleece. Got a huge blister on the thumb doing this, but was worth it.

The most difficult part of things has been "drafting," or regulating the flow of fleece into the spin. This is going to take a lot of work. For the moment, I'm doing what's called "park and draft," where I spin the spindle, then stop it to conserve the energy until I need it. Then I move the spin up the thread as I need it. Have also been "pre drafting" or separating chunks of fiber into a more manageable thickness before spinning and wrapping it around my arm so that I don't have to worry about doing all this one-handed. It's clumsy and slow, but has been good for isolating the different movements my body needs to learn. Has also been cutting down on entanglements and my getting rapped by the spindle when I lose control of it.

Like with translating, Hanon and stomach crunches, am going to give myself a few minutes a day to build up strength. May not see the results for a bit, but then again, small bits do add up. Perhaps after a bit, as well, I'll be ruing not having the chunks and variations in my fine stuff, as a fine-spinning new friend tells me may happen.

Pavel and I are I guess what you'd call cheap coffee connoisseurs; more to the point, even if we both were employed full time, I don't think you'd find us paying $20-$30/lb for coffee when there's perfectly good stuff out there for considerably less than that.* Generally, except for the emergency runs to the bodega across the street for the least expensive Latin stuff (always good, though always ground), we get whole bean, so I guess we're not completely lost.

Anyway, our two favorites in this area are Trader Joe's and Eight O'Clock (with 8:00 winning out for a while when they had their frequent buyer program). Had been drinking a lot of the TJ's French Roast lately, as they sell that in a huge tub. It's nice, though a bit messy in the grinder due to its oiliness. Only just ran out of it a couple days ago, so Pavel went out and picked up a big, two pound bag of Eight O'Clock.

As I'm the first to get up in the morning, I'm the one who preps the first pot. Always use the same amount of coffee, so found it interesting when Pavel mentioned that stuff was tasting too weak. Myself, I noted that I was getting the jitters and actual head spins. Slow on the uptake that I can be sometimes, finally noted that we had the regular blend (which I can only assume is a city roast - meaning, the least cooked coffee out there - this imparts a mild flavor and burns off the least amount of caffeine. Kind of like Dunkin Donuts stuff as opposed to your normal cup of Starbucks). Since we have so much of it, I'm actually thinking of playing at roasting a bit of it as I'm not nuts about the caffeine and the housemate's not too thrilled with the flavor. We'll see what happens.

***

*One thing we do make a point of doing is avoiding anything "fair trade," as there doesn't appear to be much "fairness" about it if one takes Webster's definition. I know that there are other definitions at play, though. In any event, Bad Catholic that I am, I just see it as lefty indulgence-selling.

The cats have been in rare form today leading Pavel to wonder aloud about what's been causing them to be all Hobbesian -like. (Dunno, maybe the weather? I know that low pressure systems sometimes drive me to distraction.) Anyway, there have been so many fights and so many different gang-up configurations that we renamed everyone:



The orange one is no longer Tony, but Brutish. Magnolia was christened Short.



What else could this one become, but Nasty?

Am at odds over which of the three of the "Three Colors" movies is my favorite: Liberty, Equality, or Brotherhood. Am kind of thinking that "Equality" is right now.

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.

Skippy and Fabio are no longer. Am trying to figure out if I didn't add enough anti-chlorine treatment or if there was too much. If the water temperature was too high or too low. Gave them both a seaman's burial last night. (Sob!)

Almost Forgot:

Modular Lace using Short Rows.

What this means, essentially, is that you treat the circle like a pie and you treat the spokes like individual, but attached, pie pieces:



Knit from Lion's lovely organic cotton string. I think I used almond here. The doily didn't turn out as I'd wanted - meaning, there were a couple too many rows, so it looked like a princess with a cleft palate or something. Ended up giving it away to someone who seemed pretty happy with it, though more for the time spent on knitting it than anything else, I think.

Couple things came to mind while I was knitting this one. First, that favorite verse from the Tao Te Ching that I'm always quoting. Second, Sunshine:



How much are the guitar's arpeggios and arabesques like the above's knits/purls/yarn overs/k2togs?

Lace.

I'm smart, but feel dumb most of the time. Far more adept manually than what I give myself credit for, am easily intimidated by anything that looks 'too hard.' What is too hard, though? Especially in terms of knitting.

Started knitting some basic lace patterns back in the day when we could bring knitting on airplanes. I liked that it both occupied my hands and kept me focused mentally when nervous fatigue would make reading, for example, impossible. Last year, got through two gorgeous scarves: Falling Water (first lace ever!)



Katia's Alpaca. This languished for nearly a year before I got up the energy to block it. It's currently on pins and wires in my room as I type.

and Nancy Bush's Stork's Nest.



My version: knitted with some lovely-looking, but kind of difficult stuff from Vermont. The color name is "antique brass." Love that.)



Where's my closeup?! Close up!

Both took forever because I saved them for flight/airport time, but both were incredibly satisfying and made (in my opinion) lovely gifts.

Was really pleased with the flat-knitted results (especially when, after Falling Water, I figured out how to do purls without twisting the stitches. This may seem obvious to 85% of the population, but I'm left-handed, so was a bit of a casse-tête.)

Anyway, based on all this success, decided to take thing further and try a circular (yes, like a doily) bit of lace. The joy of this is not having to purl every other row unless it's germane to the pattern. Decided on Brooklyntweed's interpretation of Hemlock Ring:



My dad was kind of nonplussed by this project as, during a difficult family time, I was cursing like a stevedore late at night when everyone was trying to sleep. Found some errors in the pattern, y'see, and was having a hard time resolving them/'reading the lace'/concentrating in general. Lace problems: solved! Family ones?: Not so much yet, anyway.



Finished knitting in Fray-ance chez le Frenchie. Kind of fitting that I end up with a cabbage flower for un petit chou, non? (snort)



Aah, the magic of blocking!
Am so pleased at how this turned out. The Frenchie, also, as one can see.

You all saw what I did for me as a Birthday gift. Was down and out enough to not leave the house for a bit, but could still knit. Decided to try the little bird spreading its wings on the needles construction, as that's kind of what I'm feeling like right now. A new friend's fearlessness and a free pattern (not to mention a huge stash of lace/sock yarn) are what's fueling the latest project:



The Journey of 400m Begins with But a Single Cast-On. It's called Mesange Bleue because "Blue Tit" is something that the 12 year old boy in me won't allow me to call it (snort).

I'd like to do a new lace project a month. Something that'll challenge me technically, hopefully, too. As I'm working on a new physical body as well (more later), would like to make some nice Summery stuff for me.

(We'll see, right?)

It's That Time of Year Again.



Many of these are in the process of being knitted/sewn together/stuffed. All will be revealed a week from Sunday; don't want to ruin the surprise.

Found my next knitting project. (Hint: it ain't this.)



Is up and keeping with my goal to knit a lace scarf/stole/shawl a month this year. I have other goals, too. Will talk about them soon enough.

Sister Moon.

Climbing up to my squirrel's nest last night, caught a glimpse of the moon peeking out through the maples.



From my little perch high atop Spring Hill. Really, you had to be there.

She seemed more demure, less blowsy than while in her Wolf phase the other night. Still very radiant, though. Anyway, brought to mind that bit from St. Francis of Assisi's Canticle of the Sun:

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars;
in the heavens you have made them bright, precious and beautiful.

One thing I'm noting: even when down, am not necessarily out, as there's too much beauty about for me to completely lose interest in life.

My fat cat diet and laser pointer therapy seem to be working, too. Since last March, I've lost 22 lbs. The goal is to lose another 15 and to get myself back into decent athletic shape. I think I can get the weight lost by mid Spring - just in time to start some serious hiking again.

***

Am still trying to decide if I'm a Happy Cat at heart, though, or too sad from too much bad. I know I try to be happy, just doesn't always happen, though.

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.

A Happy Birthday

This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.

-Ted Kooser

Early Birthday Present and a Nice Memory From a Past Life.



Sorry for the bad posture. I'm hunching because it's cold! Should have dressed warmer.

I've been bitten by the Lace Bug, which has sort of caused me to rearrange my knitting goals for this year. Made the above shawl from a pattern on Ravelry called 198 Yds. of Heaven. I didn't use anything luxurious, just a bit of my favorite workhorse wool. Am really pleased with the results; was so fun to watch the triangle form itself on the circulars.

As I did stretch myself a bit to learn a new skill, the yarn's color reminds me of the North Atlantic and I *did* buy the yarn near a reach, decided to name this first, happy attempt simply 'reach.'

Finch Brunch.

This morning, we counted six goldfinches (three males - I think, three females) and four house finches (two males, two females) on the seed feeders. Mealtime was civil save for a bit of a dogfight between two of the male goldfinches.

The sparrows kept their distance for a while.

Pavel was so pleased, as he'd feared not seeing any goldfinches at all this year.

-Wouldn't it be nice, he asked, if we'd just get a bluejay in for the color? He could come swooping in yelling "global warming! Global warming!" at everyone and the regular working class finches would continue eating and try to ignore him best as possible. Kind of like everyone else around here does.

(snort)

Did get our wish: a bluejay swooped in a bit after, but kept silent and to himself. Saw him grab himself a good bit of suet (takeout?) and settle down to eat on a fencepost on the other side of the yard.

Full Moon and Frost Flowers.

Last night, was out in the elements for a good stretch (nearly three hours, I think). Sure it was cold and the wind was strong, but gosh, it felt *good.* Natural for this time of year. Really enjoyed it.

On the walk home, saw the sun fade out and the sky turn that glorious royal blue that one only really sees in the Winter. Craned my neck to the right (had to crane it, the joints were freezing!) and caught the Wolf Moon shining brightly just above the horizon.

At home, saw that it was playing with the frost in interesting ways on my upstairs window:



This does no justice to the view from the back window. The frost was acting as a prism and it was quite a colorful display.

Since I sleep under a roof that has windows in it, felt a bit like I was in more northern latitudes during Summer, as everything was lit like twilight for a good bit of the night.

This morning, checked the frost patterns again and found that they'd grown some overnight.



Not quite the sort of garden I'd like to be fussing over, but for this time of year, it'll do.

Cravings.

Probably dream every night, but just don't remember it. Since getting back from France this last time, though, have been remembering an awful lot of long (meaning movie length), coherent ones where I can actually follow the plot and figure out the source material for certain elements. For example: maybe four nights ago, the dream was a pastiche of various nasty things from the old job intermingled with scenes from Julien Sorel's first attendance at the de la Mole salon. (I was Julien, of course. Certain members of upper management were the courtiers. Instead of mid 21st century office furniture from Approved Dealers, the office was decorated in Second Empire style. Makes sense, actually.) Another dream from a week ago was my mind clearly hashing over how I was going to struggle through my mother's taxes.

These have been interesting, but not so interesting as the dreams I had over the past couple nights. The stories weren't much, but a new sense was introduced: taste. I was actually eating and enjoying what I was eating - the textures, the flavors, everything. Even remembered what I'd wanted so badly that I had to imagine it. The first night, it was fried chicken. Real fried chicken like a friend's mom used to make with seasoned flour and milk and served with mustard greens. It was perfect, too - just the right texture, fresh, not too salty, not greasy at all. The greens were a nice, bitter counterpoint to the chicken's buttery-ness.

Last night, I dreamed that my father and I went to an Italian pastry shop in Buffalo, I think, though people were paying in Euros. I was trying to decide between torta di ricotta and some sort of pecan pie thing. Ended up with this amazing chocolate cheesecake with preserved cherries on top. Actually woke up chewing and salivating.

The funny thing about both these lovely new experiences was that I don't much care for fried chicken or rich pastries in my awake life. Wonder why the brain chose them to get excited over?

The latest indignity inflicted on the new girl cat came from the vet and was itemized as "Express Anal Sacs."

Pavel's response being of course, "when they absolutely, positively have to be there overnight. (No third class for this girl.)"

Unfinished Object.

My mother liked to work with her hands. She was one of the fastest typists I'd ever seen, my dad's mom aside. (Both of them could do over 120 wpm with a very low margin of error. My best time's only about 90, and this only came with concerted effort.) Was a technically excellent pianist as well. Her favorite handwork, though, was sewing. Like her mother, she was a professional-level seamstress who would take in work from friends and relatives to add to what she earned from the day job. A lot of what she taught me, in fact, was to help alleviate backlog in that business. (This has served me well in the past - namely in college when I'd take in simple repair work for friends because I didn't want to see them be rooked by the tailors on campus. Actually don't enjoy doing it, though.)

She could also knit. I don't think she enjoyed it as much as sewing, as I don't see the same technical level in the finished objects. She did have the basic stitches, casting off and binding off down, though.

Stuffed in a closet (with her old typewriter and my Raggedy Ann doll, in fact), I found an unfinished something:



How long ago did KMart stop carrying their own brand of (surprisingly not squeaky) acrylic yarn? We're really dating ourselves here.

There were two 5' by 10" brown strips, 1 1/2 of the same in beige and a couple gauge swatches. There appears to be enough yarn to make several more, though how many I'm not sure. I think she was intending to sew enough completed strips together to make one (or maybe two?) afghans together. Not for her, though, as the color scheme doesn't go with anything in her house. Wonder who it or they were for?

Double bagged the pieces and the yarn as it all stunk (and continues to stink) of smoke to bring home. It's going to be interesting to see how I can wash the pieces still on needles and stitch holders without either damaging the wash machine or unraveling the work. Absolutely can't work on them in their current state, though.

Kind of makes me sad, as I found a few other such abandoned projects (always) crammed into corners or closets. Also, though we'd not been speaking for nearly a year, I'd started on a gift for her that she'd asked for a while ago: a burgundy colored shawl.

The shawl was unraveled in a fit of rage / frustration around the holidays. Guess I can finish the afghan, though.

Today, though it was cooler then yesterday, was much better for getting out and about. Made a point of taking a good, serious (meaning silly-looking power) walk around Cambridge. Returned home to some very good news: My best gal Aimee got accepted into her program*! She's got a good bit of tough work ahead of her, but she's up to it.

Way to go, Girl, you're on your way! (hug)

***

* At Harvard, no less. Eee!

Was kind of thrown for a loop by yesterday's weather: warm, windy with torrents of rain. The ears and the head could feel the low pressure system passing by; jam jar lids popped in chorus, making it seem as though a poltergeist had visited with the intention of unsealing all my preserves.

Still, was nice to turn off the furnace for a bit, open all the windows and force the bad air out with a *whoosh.* Outdoors, when we could get outside, felt more like an early Fall or Spring night than midwinter.

Headache aside, (still dealing with the residue) this was good. Am thinking of calling it an early Birthday gift and being quietly thankful for it.

Pattern Recognition.



Look at the coloring, those eyebrows. (Thank heavens for no black teeth yet, anyway.)



Promotional picture from Misoguchi's Ugetsu Monogatari.)

(Feel as though I should be calling her Noko-san instead of Magnolia. She certainly acts as though I should.)

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.

The Sword and the Shield of Spring Hill.

Didn't know that I wanted to commit to another animal so soon after Ampersand's passing. I mean, my life's kind of hectic and not very stable at the moment. Got myself a couple of plants at the local Home Depot, then started researching other small animals like birds, fish, rats. Ended up springing $.28 at the local Petsmart for a couple little goldfish that I think are normally used to feed other fish:



The big, mottled guy's called Fabio and the little orange one's Skippy. So far I've managed not to kill them. As their bowl's right next to the head of my bed, I've woken up twice now to two sets of eyes staring at me.

It's amazing what a bit of pocket change can get you, isn't it? Pavel thinks the Coinstar folks would make a killing if they had an offer whereby one turns in their change for a school of fish delivered back into the change jar. (Crazier things have been tried.)

I may have moved too suddenly on the fish, though. On the buying trip, made the mistake of walking by the adopt-a-cat section. There were only two cats there: a small, long-haired black girl who looked an awful lot like &. Her name was Jada. The other was a fat, white girl with pink ears, a pink nose and pink toes. She was called Magnolia. Looked so, so sad.

-No, I said to myself. It'd be unfair to bring a cat home. What's my life going to be like over the next few months? Everything's totally up in the air right now.

Still, I kept thinking about her. Even dreamt of her one night. Oy!

Had Pavel bring me back to the store. If she was still there, I could ask some questions, maybe get to meet her. Turns out, she was. Apparently, they were having a hard time adopting her because she'd been sick. Also, she'd only ever been in one household and wasn't taking shelter life well. People often want an immediate bond with an animal, regardless of what species and she was very shy. A bit demoralized, too. Long story short: filled out the adoption paperwork, got accepted, and am going back this evening to pick her up. Pictures will follow, of course. How could they not?

Last week, the poor girl cat's six month heart warranty expired and she had to be put to sleep. Though she and I were more often than not at odds with one another, there was some genuine good feeling between us.

It's amazing how empty the house feels without her.



Angry centerpiece. Dad's place, December, 2009.

Good things.

Okay, there were a few. Had one life line which turned into a major accomplishment: school and finishing a degree. If it had not been for the routine of getting up, getting into school, thinking about something other than what was going on in my life, then going home to prepare for the next classes, I would have fallen apart far more spectacularly than I did. I also found a new love in all this.

With the new framework provided by the History courses (all but cleared out the local community college's catalog), I've been going back to what I'd studied and loved in a past life. How much richer is Stendhal with a better knowledge of the conflicts between Jansenists and Jesuits; between the liberals of the time and absolutists; between the nobles, the bourgeoisie and peasant classes. I don't claim to get *all* his jokes; what I do see is that I'm starting to develop a crush on the protagonist of the story, Julien Sorel. He reminds me an awful lot of me: hyper intelligent but immature, emotionally confused and stunted from a childhood of abuse. Not handsome in a standard way, though striking. All I can hope for is to not come to the same end as he did. (So far, so good.)

I can't talk about school without mentioning at least in passing birds. Again, they've provided respite and comfort when I couldn't see through the gray cloud that envelops me sometimes. I'd taken up sitting in the kitchen to do my reading and writing; it was the warmest and brightest room in the house at the time (we've since fixed up the dining room - oh, the light we have there in the mornings now!), plus there was a decent surface for me to spread out my books, papers, computer. Noted that Tony was spending an awful lot of time at my side - found that he was actually not there for my company, but rather to watch the birds and the squirrels in the yew right out the window. A cheap feeder and suet cage scaled up to a thistle sock, a squirrel-proof seed feeder and a couple cages (not to mention a birdbath and a house that Pavel made himself). We now buy seed in 50 lb bags and suet cakes in quantity. There are several different editions of the Petersen guide floating around for quick reference if one of us sees anyone new. I am always amazed at what incredible things I find if I just take a few moments out to be quiet, to be still, to observe.

Thanks to Ravelry, my knitting's through the roof. Though am on Facebook and look at Twitter from time to time, to be honest, I'm not sure if I care for either so much. Ravelry isn't a social networking site per se, more of an online Alexandria for needleworkers. There's an awful lot of nice people there, though. Some, too, that I'd not mind meeting in person (and this is saying a lot, as I generally don't care much for people). Three cheers to the folks who created it and maintain it! It's an incredible resource.

Though I've yet to get myself back into good, strenuous exercise like I used to do, have managed to get a control on the eating. Since about May of last year, have managed to take off roughly 20 lbs. This has helped the knee and ankles considerably, not to mention energy (most of the weight loss has been thanks to South Beach - the closest thing, it seems, to the old Weight Watchers plan I remember from 20 years ago that I lost something like 60 lbs with - always felt good on that, too). I still have a bit to go, but if I just stick to it and get back either into swimming or running (don't know if the latter is possible), I'm sure I'll get to where I want to be.

So, not all has been bad. Thank heavens for that.

Should have known better than to not only ignore the flashing amoebas obscuring my vision the other day, but to go out and indulge in three of the big four that all but guarantee a knockout: salted nuts, chocolate, red wine. I deserved the hammer slamming down, the blindness and the eventual loss of a perfectly good meal. (idiot.)

I apologize for the radio silence over the past few weeks. Have been a bit overwhelmed with health concerns, family issues and the deep, deep sadness that envelops me at times (most often at the darkest time of the year).

2009 was a rough year for nearly everyone I'm close with. On my side of things, the death of my aunt last February, followed by that of a favorite uncle in May, then that of my mother in November hit not like rabbit punches, but more like a solid sock in the nose each time I'd pick myself up. Haven't even really begun yet the untangling that needs to be done to deal with each very different flavor of grief the part of me that barely responds to reason is experiencing.

Of course, I'm not in a vacuum with my grief; have been thrown in an awful lot with family. Now, a good part of the reason I moved here was to get away from family's reach. I'm sure that I do love them; can't not. We share the same ties, heck, the same DNA; hating them would be hating myself, I think. I don't think that I like an awful lot of them, though. Not healthy in general, not healthy for me in particular. The return from my Aunt's funeral put me in a tailspin for a good month. The cannonball in the pit of my stomach born from everything around my mother's death is only starting to dissolve (and soon to be replaced with another for dealing with the estate).

That's been the major stuff. There are other things as well: health (dealing with the boondoggle of Commonwealth Care has completely soured me on them.), finance/work (would love to be able to settle down enough to even get some temporary work. I miss work! Money is starting to become an issue, too.), home life (I live with one of my best friends in the world. It can be a serious trial, though, as he's got some things that need fixing and refuses to put the work in), love life.

Love's an important thing. On one hand, why couldn't I have done the normal thing and found someone nearer by? Why does it have to be a flight (hate flying) over a large body of water (hate the thought of being over an ocean for so long). Last flight, what with the security theater and my getting food poisoning and all, was particularly miserable. Well, for what it's worth, I think the Frenchie's worth it, if only because he seems to not mind putting up with me.

(To be continued. Migraine break.)

Well, I'll be darned.

I've been voting against both incumbents since I was old enough to vote. Finally, it's meant something.

Thank you, Mr. Brown! Thank you!

Our Personal Response to the (I'm sure very lovely lady) who ordinarily doesn't have time for most folks in the neighborhood under normal circumstances but who saw fit to educate us rubes in the hinterlands* on why we need to vote for Coakley tomorrow:

***

* Somerville.







May the Best Man win (via honest means).

Trapped.

Flight's already delayed for three hours - will be delayed for an undetermined further length, according to the folks in charge of taking care of us / penning us in at CDG. As much as I'm feeling sorry for myself, I feel worse for them. No breaks, constant individual searches and patdowns if we go to the toilet or to get a coffee...dealing calmly with our frustrations.

Maybe I'll get home tonight; we'll see.

Huîtres Stendhaliennes.

Traditionally, for New Year, a lot of French folks do an oyster feast. It's easy to prepare* , a bit luxurious, and delicious with champagne, so what's not to like? Since we tend to eat oysters a couple times a week,** the question was, how to make it a bit different for the reveillon?

Inspiration struck at the market after a visit to the bookstore. I'd just cleaned up on used copies of books by Stendhal, and the Frenchie, who could easily lecture on the guy, found cancales***.

"Oh, we're having cancales for dinner tonight. Absolutely. They're perfect."

Never having heard of these before and not knowing what the heck reference he was making, I asked why.

"They're Stendhalian oysters, of course! In Lucien Leeuwen he references going to Le Rocher de Cancale**** to eat oysters. I absolutely want oysters like Stendhal would have eaten himself in Paris."

So, that's what we're having for dinner tonight: oysters like our favorite writer would have had over on rue Montorgeuil back in the day and a nice, dry Crémant from the Loire Valley to wash them down with.

I can only hope for as good for all my friends; can't imagine better. Happy New Year.

***

* fishmongers will put together all sorts of plates with everything from oysters to crabs to langoustines and shrimps from all over the world, so no work at all if you want to pay.

** No, we're not high rollers; the Frenchie's Old School. He shucks them himself. I'm not nearly as good as he is, but can hold my own. With a bit more practice, am sure I could get a job somewhere opening oysters.

This in mind, biweekly plates of oysters are much more doable; the ones I like go for roughly 5-6€/dozen.

*** Cancales are like Belons - round and flat with toast colored shells. They are to Paris as Duxburies are to Boston.

**** As of last year, anyway, this restaurant still exists.

Pavel's on day three of cleaning out the kitchen; I just completed one of the bedrooms. Really, really strange. I'm not depressed over anything personal, just how the situation devolved so. It appears as though I've got the affairs of not one, but three people to take care of now.

Oh, the rosaries, too. Have found at least two dozen, probably more. Those and lots of mass books, both in Polish and English.

Yesterday, the Zen cleaning wave that I'm pretty sure most Polish females of strong body and sound enough mind can generally catch a ride on when they need to was broken with a sinister laugh from the kitchen:

"Come and Bake with us, Joanie. Come and Bake with us forever...and ever...and ever..."



My Mother was obsessed with him. Why? He was cute, I guess. She had a tee shirt that further explained that he smiled a lot and was "rolling in dough."

The refrigerator was full of packaged cookie dough and dinner rolls; the cupboard had six or seven different cake/baked good mixes. Kept the dry mixes, but had to toss the refrigerated stuff as it was starting to sprout.

Oh, and the collectors items: ornaments, wallpaper borders, kitchen linens, a cookie jar to name a few. I think there's something like three crates full of knicknacks. Most all of it's smoke damaged, so it's not like one could flog any of it on e-Bay, either.

Wish I could just toss it. Doesn't seem like I'm going to be able to, though. The thought of doing that makes me incredibly sad.

One of my big, long-gone crushes turned 450 today.

(Pictures from my pilgrimage to his home this Summer are here.)



Bonne Anniversaire. (Rock on.)

I'm Getting/I've Got This Year's Hit:



A blast from the past, ca. 2002. Don't think that much of this is happening in Iceland nowadays.

Eg = ich (ego)
kaupi/th/i = kaufe
ploetu = plat/plate/disk
arsins = jahr/year, sins/dieses = this

***

Neither Pavel nor I speak Icelandic. He seems to think that Kau/pi/thi is the imperative and that the title's exhorting us to buy the record. Have no idea. Fun to lazily conjecture after a good, warm meal on a cold night, though.

"Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crises."

-Elizabeth Zimmermann

Got plenty to read, too. I want to knit, but if I can't keep track of the stitches or I'm not allowed to bring my needles on board (happened the last trip back from France), I'll read.

Finished the Tuchman book on the 14th Century and Audubon's collected writings. Didn't know which to follow up with first (The Tuchman was a great followup to the Amy Kelly book in Eleanor of Aquitaine - thought I might go back to what I'd read in college to hang onto the framework that both these books gave.). Decided on reading around Audubon, as the first contemporary who came to mind was another Frenchman doing pretty well both as a writer and a bureaucrat under Napoleon's reign: Stendhal. (Why not? It was either going to be him or Tocqueville.) Got my spanking new copy of Le Rouge et le Noir (lost the old one. Have 85 different copies of his treatise on Love, but don't much feel like that right now. Need some drama, some sharp wit, some biting social commentary. When I get tired of Stendhal, I have some Twain short stories to lift my spirits and some essays by Jeanne Kirkpatrick to bring me down (not that I'll be needing any of that this weekend).

Mostly, though, I hope to knit.

Loose Ends.

Weaving in a lot of them lately; guess the end of the year's got me in make-up mode:



That's Pavel, also known as the "Plaid Bomber," modeling a really ingenious little cowl that knitted up quickly, but took forever for me to seam. Got that off in the mail today for my friend with the perpetual air conditioner on the neck problem.



Since, at about the time when I got my diploma, I had very little in the way of mad grad money, decided to knit myself a present. Unfortunately, in the time it took me to (ahem) finish it, I lost *a lot* of weight (we're talking like 20 lbs). Don't look anywhere near as sophisticated as the model on the pattern does; actually feel kind of frumpy in it. Still, it's warm, very warm, and is kind of growing on me emotionally. Heck, I made it for me! (Also blew 10 balls of Wool Ease out of my stash. Hooray!)



The Frenchie needed a gift for his organisation's annual swap, so decided on a handmade filet with a pot of feral grape jelly. The pattern's called "Grrlfriend," so since mine's green and destined for France, am calling it "Grrenouille." (Really love this pattern; knits up quickly and makes a very sturdy, expansive pouch for whatever. Love the satchel strap styling, too. Really need to make one of these for myself one of these days.)



The pieces for this little guy (comprised mainly of some rope-gauge acrylic that Hal found in/at/around a dumpster years ago) languished in my project bag for *months* before I finally got it together fill him with rags and put him together. Don't think I could ever give away this little misfit; I identify too much with him. (Got the pattern from Debbie Bliss. Love her stuff; don't really like making a lot of these toys, though. Too much fiddling around with a sewing needle. Oh well.)

A friend of mine asked if he was a pickpocket and if he liked oysters and periwinkles. I figured that I wasn't sure on either account. Decided to name him Olivier, just in case.

***

So that's what's done now. Have a lot more left to finish before the year's out. For the trip to Buffalo, am bringing along two lace projects: Hemlock Ring (am just about finished with the center bloom. Kind of slow going with the three last lace rows before one goes to feather and fan.), and my beautiful stork's nest lace scarf.

If I can get these two things done by the time I get back from Buffalo (leaving tonight, returning on Monday night), will be very happy.