A Knitted Hug.

Would that I'd not have broken my nose four times over the course of my life (eyeglasses will never set straight). Would that I could find a decent haircut here at < $75. Would that I'd stop looking so sad when I was actually pretty happy.

This said: had to show the front view of my gorgeous new shawl / shrug / sweater thingy.
It appears as though there'll be plenty of time to get some use out of it, as, gosh, it's darn cold out.

This was what was to be my Birthday / Valentine's Day present to myself this year. The darn thing's huge, with a wingspan of something like 8', so decided to tie it in back to wear like a Scandinavian heart warmer shawl.

Project notes and a link to the pattern here.

I need to put this recipe up, because I get so many compliments on the finished product (and the online recipe seems to have disappeared).

Clementine Marmalade

2 cups thin strips of clementine peels
4 cups cold water
Pulp and juice of 8-10 clementines
1/2 cup lemon juice
2 cups boiling water
3 cups granulated sugar

In a heavy saucepan, combine clementine peel and cold water.  Bring to a simmer, covered, over moderate heat.  Continue to simmer until peel is tender (about 30 min); drain thoroughly.  Remove seeds and white membrane from peeled fruit; dice fruit.

To prepare marmalade:  combine cooked peel, diced fruit, lemon juice and boiling water.  Add sugar and blend thoroughly.  Quickly bring to a boil and cook until mixture is thick and reaches 220 deg F on a candy thermometer.

Remove from heat, skim off foam, and ladle into hot sterilized jars.

(Process if you feel the need to.  Have never bothered with this, myself.)

Fallow fingers were feeling The Itch after a few weeks of inactivity, so decided to see, per a conversation with a friend who is a talented quilter, what would happen if I attempted to knit a quilt block.

Am more of a fan of lace than colorwork (stranded or otherwise), so decided to use that as my starting point.  Searched out an appropriate pattern as didn't much feel like 'reinventing the wheel,' then just let the fingers get busy.
  Cornus Kousa.

 Using Lion's Fishermen's Wool on size 9 (5.5 mm) needles, knitted this up to a 20" x 20" square after blocking.  Haven't decided how many more blocks will end up making (either 11, 15 or 19 more; we'll see.), though I do know who the finished piece is intended for. 

Am happy to have the hands moving again.

Fruit Salad à la française.

Breathing.

One of the reasons why I'm not out every day enjoying my ballon de rouge in a café along the Champs Elysées is that that's an awfully expensive pastime*. Another reason is that I'd most likely end up suffocating after about a week or two of this sort of thing given the state of my lungs and the air quality in The City. Some days are better than others and I've learned to look out the window to see if it's worthwhile to quit the digs in suburbia and possibly paint the town red (or, in my case, something secondary like a muted purple or orange).

Was having a pretty good run of things breathing-wise up until last weekend.

After a period of relatively clean, clear, slightly damp weather, things took a turn for the worse last Sunday morning. Actually woke myself up choking, despite the major doses of antihistamines I've been taking to calm the effects of some scary food reactions. Popped a pill, donned a dust mask, then waited for both the coffee to brew and the breathing passages to clear up. On heading over to market, noted this:

Keep in mind that, as the crow flies, the Eiffel Tower is 6.7 km/4 miles from where I took the picture and it was relatively dry out.

Ran my errands, headed home via the Back of the Hill (more trees and also, hopefully more sheltered from this), took it easy for the rest of the day.

Headed out in the evening, saw that the air had cleared somewhat and so profited from that.

Still a bit hazy, though a little afterwards a fog did roll in. The light from the beacon was reflecting off whatever particles were in the air.

The next few days followed in a fog, or a cloud of dust, or something. Concentrated on cleaning house, finding healthy stuff to eat that wouldn't close up my throat** and just breathing.

When I can, I get as far from The City as possible. Wooded areas are my preferred stomping grounds. Wooded areas with ponds or streams, even streams that have been covered over and run out of faucets, are my favorites.
 

View from the Parc de St-Cloud, approx 8 km or sixish miles from the Eiffel Tower. Note the well-defined layer of brown in the air. There was a nice breeze blowing from my back while I was facing The City. From here, my eyes and nose were running a lot and I did cough some, but wasn't having trouble breathing.

Today - more of the same.

Again, from Mont Valérien. Just beyond what I think is the Tour de la Porte Maillot is Sacre Coeur atop Monmartre. That's roughly six miles from the house. The Eiffel Tower is to the right of the edge of the picture.

From what the Frenchie tells me, this haze of pollution is going to last at least through the weekend, possibly longer. Will deal with it; I'm old hand at that sort of thing. Am wondering, though, if taking up smoking might not help strengthen me up some more.

***
* I can't even imagine how much a glass of red would cost at Foquet's. If I really want ambiance with my coup de pinard, I'll go to Rond Pont in the Cité. Love the headwaiter there; he's like Jacques Tati, only with a voice. Is totally on cue with my accent and anglicisms. I am (and no doubt many others are) going to miss him when he retires. Is kind of the soul of the place and, more in general, a living symbol of a Paris that is disappearing as time marches on.

** Another story for another time.

Compote de Poires.

Was very pleased to see the little seckel pears at market again with the new year.

The last of last week's batch before hitting la casserole.

Every year at about this time, these little beauties are packed into plastic bags and sold at ridiculous prices*.  Last week, they were going for two kg for four euro (that's roughly a dollar a pound).  I bought four kg with the intention of turning 1/2 of that into a gingery pear butter.  That never happened, as we found we loved the 'compote' or sauce as is (no sugar, no nothing added).  Was great as a side with ham, over our yogurt, snuck out of the bowl in the fridge by the spoonful.

This week, I saw that they were down to three euro for five kg.  Bought a huge bag of pears along with some tiny, toothsome sweet/tart apples with the intention of freezing a bit of the compote for later use.**  On one hand, would really like to make more fruit butter.  On the other, the fruit's already so sweet and full of flavor that the addition of sugar/spices seems a bit like gilding the lily.  

***

* I asked the Frenchie if the cheap prices and the sale au marche had anything to do with these fruits not conforming to EU standards on size/shape.  He said that those regulations were retired a while back, but it wouldn't surprise him that people are now conditioned to not want "imperfect" or "normalized" fruits, thus forcing the vendors to sell so low.

** Wouldn't a granita or nectar be lovely on a triple-digit hot Summer day?  A girl can dream.

Star-Crossed.

It's interesting to see how much space in the French women's magazines is devoted to horoscopes, this being the land of Enlightenment and all. To be fair, in some (but certainly not the majority) of the American ones I've looked through, you'll have a little blurb on your sign from month to month. This is nothing compared to the French editors' fascination with the stars and their predictive abilities, though.  I can normally count on two supplemental booklets (one for the New Year, one for Summer vacation) plus other exposes on things like Numerology, I Ching...everything short of augury and necromancy, actually*.

New Year this year was a little different as I think the government is really pushing homeopathy right now.  As a result, the little supplement booklets I normally get with my detailed (and often contradictory) profiles were replaced with something telling me to consider alternative treatments for things like diabetes and depression. Was a little disappointed at first, but that feeling soon gave way to marvel when I looked over the cover articles of one publication:

 Right side, four down from the top:  Astro Mode.  Ce soir, je m'habille Lion ou Belier?  That is - Fashion by the Stars.  Tonight do I dress like a Leo or an Aries?

"For heaven's sakes," I thought, crossing myself.  "This is what I've been waiting for!  Here is my secret to losing some of that native frumpiness."

Wasted no time this time mulling over crafts or "recettes bluffantes," went straight to the money article, the pertinent to me parts of which are roughly as follows**:

Fashion by the Stars.

"It's a proven fact:  the Signs of the Zodiac influence our Fashion Sense.  But...for when the clock strikes Twelve...will I be feeling more...an Aries or a Leo?

Air Signs:  You are a Gemini, Libra or Aquarius.  The element Air evokes a Breath of Fresh Air, Light, Communication, Joie de Vivre.

Aquarius:  Originality in the form of a woman!  Ahead of her time, she's a style-maven nonpareil, a source of inspiration for others.  Her colors:  Black, White, Parme (Lavender,) Sky Blue."

- Modes et Travaux, January 2012.

 Following were pictures of three-inch stilettoes and lots of accessories in patent leather or vinyl.  Even if they did get it right about me horoscope-wise (yes, I am indeed an Inspirational Original, a Creative Force of Nature, Lightness, A Breath of Fresh Air), am not really sure about the dominatrix-wear as am more given to earth tones and sensible shoes.

***

* The latter two would be a great tie-in to a feature on cuisines du terroir, come to think of it.

** If you're interested in your astrological fashion profile, drop a line. Would be glad to share; just didn't feel like putting it all out here.

Did I mention previously how much I learn not only culture-wise, but vocabulary-wise from these magazines?  They're a treasure-trove of pop imagery, current argot, etc. 

Case in point:  the other day, I brought home a favorite weekly (which I get mainly for the recipes; they're really good.  I should just get their magazine devoted to cooking; can't resist the more general one, though.) called appropriately enough "Modern Woman."

 As you can see, I'm not making this up.

Mentioned to the Frenchie that one of my Beauty resolutions for 2012 would be to find 'le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy.'

"Huh?"  He looked up at me.  "I think I misheard you.  What did you say?"

"Pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy."

"What did you say?  Forget it.  What the hell does that even mean?

I sighed at his vieux schnookitude* for not understanding modern French.  "Okay, Pepe:  Pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon maquillage pour renforcer une allure tendance."

"That's better.  Thanks." (Could just hear the "Kids today" tacked on to the end of that sentence.)

***

* being an old geezer.

**  The correct French translation of "pour 2012, je dois choisir le bon make-up pour booster mon look trendy" which is Frenglish jive talk for "I've got to choose the right make up to ratchet up my trendiness quotient."

La Presse Feminine.

Will admit to a guilty pleasure here:  women's magazines.  Though I don't subscribe to any, I do like to pick a little something up at the press kiosk from time to time to see how underachieving/unfashionable/unhealthy I am according these publications.  I also like to keep up with what I guess is Popular Feminism around the world*.

What's interesting about a lot of the French ones I look at is that they tend to mix the sex and fashion right in with the family counseling stuff, the recipes and whatever cute little decorating hints they might have.  A couple of the ones I really like have a knitting pattern** plus an offer for a free sewing pattern***.  I guess one could say that they're a hybrid between Cosmopolitan and Martha Stewart****.

Aside from that, the fashion/diet/relations with men stuff is pretty similar between the French and American magazines.  Briefly put, it's always assumed that you're looking to lose weight to fit into the otherwise unwearable (not to mention overpriced) fashion they're pushing that month.  You're also probably having a tough time navigating your relationship, so need whatever advice you can get - good, bad or otherwise.

Of course, since we're talking about a couple countries facing one another but with an ocean separating them, there will be other minor differences*****. To wit:

In the average American magazine, you're an young, independent, intelligent, gifted (insert whatever other positive adjectives you can think of here) woman on the go.  You don't need a man, but you might want one around anyway to pay for drinks and lift heavy stuff, so here's 25 sizzling contortion acts you can do in bed (all vetted by the magazine's team of sex/emotional/physical therapists) to keep him interested.

In the average French one, you're a sophisticated, intelligent, gifted (etc) young woman whose been married for a bit and you've found out that your partner's had three kids by a succession of girlfriends on the side.  Since you're the one with the ring and the piece of paper, not to mention the honor of doing his laundry, you'd like for him to lay off the other women.  In confronting him, you get told you're "not much fun" or "a bore."  What do you do?  Well, you write to the magazine's team of philosophers/sexologists who will take time out from their busy lecture circuits and second careers as psychoanalysts to ask you just what the hell you want out of your relationship.

Refreshing, isn't it? to see that we're all more or less in the same boat?

***

* Then there's the vocabulary boost I get from the French and German editions.  See?  It all isn't a waste.
 
** No matter how easy the project, I like to see that promoted.

*** Really nice, as those can be expensive.

**** Try wrapping your mind around that one.

***** The German stuff I read is actually for the 'mature woman' (that is, for women over 40), so happily we're spared the fashion and sex advice.

 Epiphany.

Though yesterday was technically the Feast of the Magi, weak stomachs kept us from digging in to the traditional Epiphany Cake or 'galette des rois.' Instead, saved them for today's breakfast.

There's a lot to be said for delayed gratification.

Traditionally, these are either just straight puff pastry or pastry filled with apples or almond paste. Nowadays, you'll find filled with chocolate, other fruit fillings, even Grand Marnier-infused spice cake. We like to stick to the frangipani, or almond, as that's our favorite. Also, since these cakes can be very heavy, we bought small individual-serving ones rather than a regular-sized one (which serves 6-10 depending on how you cut it.)

Was very pleased, too, to add to my 'feve' collection.

King Louis XIII was the first feve I ever got.  Then came the Citroen fire truck.  After that came the 'Lapin Cretin' - or 'Special Needs Rabbit,' as I like to call him.  This year, we got the two little girls:  the Indian was in the Frenchie's galette and the African was in mine.

Back in the Old Days, a small feve, or bean would be baked into the pastry and whoever found it would be crowned King for the day.  Nowadays, a little porcelain toy is substituted.  Like lots of folks am sure, I actually get the treat for the toy.

Happy Belated 12th Day of Christmas!

The weather's been very odd lately. Temperatures have been averaging about 12-15 degrees celsius (that'd be about 55-60ish f). The winds, though not as rough around the Channel, are still a bit wild. Black, black, really black storm clouds are quickly rolling in and out, bringing with them rainbows, cloudbursts and sometimes even hail.

We were treated to a double rainbow the other day while errand-running in Lower Suresnes.  Two minutes later, serious cloudburst.

Storm clouds gathering again over the Bois du Boulogne.

Naturally, with conditions like this, there're a lot of nasty bugs going around that would normally be killed by a good cold snap.  I unfortunately got waylaid by one (more on that later - I promise/threaten...) and ended up watching today's show from the sidelines.  Hopefully things'll be better tomorrow, as it's supposed to be glorious out.

Resolutions and Resolve.

I just don't see the point of New Year's resolutions. Why the arbitrary first of January for making all sorts of drastic changes? Doesn't do much except crowd others out of the local pool or gym until the end of the month when impetus and interest peter out. If I want to try something new that requires a bit of discipline, am more likely to have this new interest take if I *don't* start it at around the darkest/coldest time of the year up here.

This was certainly the case with the low-carbohydrate diet I decided to put myself on last Summer: the first two weeks were kind of hellish not from the lack of caffeine or sugar or alcohol or what have you, but more from my body getting used to deriving its energy from proteins or fat rather than the other sources. After that, things were more or less smooth sailing*. Now that I've changed continents, latitudes and cultural attitudes about food, it's been a bit more of a challenge. Started eating a bit of bread and jam in the morning (Jam's homemade. I know because I made it). Dairy products are de rigeur.

Exercise-wise it's tough, as my being so far north here means that the days are noticeably shorter than even those in the northern part of the other continent I come from. There's also the feeling of being cloistered by the seven foot high, locked gates that separate all properties. Sometimes I just don't want to leave the house because of all the locks on the doors. Don't think that there's the same exercise culture here as where I come from either, meaning that I'm often the only non-buff-warrior-athlete type out jogging (when my body can take it)/speed walking on the local paths.

Anyway, resolutions to me seem like false bravado. This time of the year, I'd just like a Second Wind to blow through - helping me to combat inertia and clearing the cobwebs out that have accumulated during the shortening of the days.

***

* All my life I've struggled with my weight. What can I say? Some of us have problems that the mere "eat less, exercise more" that we're told to do just doesn't work so well on. Like the folks mentioned here, I have to be *constantly* on my toes - logging everything I eat, all the water I drink, every step I take in a day. It's damn tiring and, if I'm under stress as I have been for the past two or three years, it ain't happening. Sorry.

I really like the low-carbohydrate approach as I do seem to have more physical energy. Noted this when I was on Weight Watchers when younger: cut out the bread and you don't feel so logey. It can, however, be a bit high-maintenance (though maybe not so much as the more à la mode practice of veganism. Been there, done that. Ain't gonna happen again.). Following a pastiche of different and sometimes disparate approaches, have managed to lose 20 lbs (going from my second-highest weight ever of 195 to a more manageable 175). Still would like to lose another 15. Am really worried, though, that I'm either not going to be able to do that while here or am even going to backslide.

First Day.

It dawned warm, damp and gray; not too bad, though, if you're accustomed to frigid Januaries. Enjoyed a bit more truffles and eggs, then decided to take a wander about the neighborhood.  Wanted to see the old sights with new eyes for the New Year.

A view of the American Cemetery from La Terrasse.  The trees in the foreground are planes, historic staples in French landscape architecture.  (If you've ever driven down a departmental route - the US equivalent would be a state or maybe county route - or wandered alongside a canal here,  these would most likely be the trees you'd see lining them.)

The Frenchie calls Paris a very 'mineral' city.  He's right about that, both for the living and the dead.  It was a little strange to see the well-kept lawns of this American (or garden-style) cemetery at first, to hear the carillon play the "Star Spangled-Banner" Sundays at noon and five p.m.  Now, it's become a comfort.  Often, when I'm finding myself a bit out of sorts, I'll go and walk around the soldiers' graves like what I used to do when I was child with my dad on Memorial Day.

A January Rose in the gardens along the Terrasse.   Have seen cherry trees and mimosas in bloom as well.

Some Suresnois red roofs.  As always, the skyscrapers of La Défense are looming almost sinister-like in the background.

Quiet Night In.
 

Just us with some mollusks & feet from the stomachs, a big crustacean, a bottle of Loire Valley bubbly and some Strauss on the radio.

Time for bed now, though it isn't quite midnight; have had enough of 2011.  Hopefully your New Year's a happy and safe one.  Best wishes for 2012.

Three Easy Pieces II:  Felt.  

Heavens, did life get a bit hectic lately.  Took a trip back to the Heimatstadt to visit my dad, came back to the launching pad, then flung myself across the Big Blue again.  Somehow papers managed to get sorted somewhat and stuff got mailed that needed to be mailed right away.  The knitting WIP pile is slowly shrinking, though not as quickly as I'd like.  Other stuff will get done in due time.

When I couldn't concentrate on some of the larger projects (have three shawls going right now) for love or money, took to knitting scraps of wool into squares or rectangles, beating the fibers into submission in the washer and dryer, then playing at origami:

Three little green bowls.  Sent them off to Karen as a sort of half-a$$ed housewarming gift until I get her real one done and, well, her new house gets finished being built.

Two resolutions for 2012 are to work through more of my yarn stash (greatly augmented by my new thrift-store sweater unraveling mania) and to get better organized. I'm thinking that these guys could help me kill two birds with one stone.  A recipe for the square versions pictured below can be found here.

The Frenchie dropped a couple strings of LEDs down a couple flights of stairs with an ethereal, almost eerie effect.  It's kind of a Visual equivalent to that Kate Bush Christmas song I like so much.

Here's to hoping that everyone had a happy day - no matter what you celebrate.  Though a little jet-laggy (yes, I'm back across the Grand Bleu), am doing pretty well.  The Frenchie seems in pretty good spirits as well.  The weather's unseasonably warm, which makes the short days a little bit hard to bear sometimes; making it past the psychological hurdle of Solstice really helps, though.

For my first meal back (breakfast; it was a "red eye" flight), was treated to a special surprise:  scrambled eggs with truffles.  Am sad to admit, given how expensive real black truffles* are and all, that I really do love them.  To preserve flavors and not overcook the eggs, he cooked them in a bain marie - that is, in a bowl within a saucepan of hot water.  This turned out so well that we're going to keep up the practice for all our scrambled egg needs, be they with truffles, chives or what have you.

Scrambled Eggs of Champions - serves 2

4 large eggs
approx. 7-10 grams black truffle, finely chopped (this should be about a teaspoon to teaspoon and a half)
A bit of unsalted butter or neutral-flavored oil

Lightly grease or oil a heat-safe bowl.
Crack eggs into a bowl, scramble, add truffles, then transfer to your heat-safe bowl that's been gently heating up in a saucepan of water.  Keeping an eye on the heat (you want the water boiling, but not too violently), stir the egg mixture every minute or so until it sets. 

Enjoy!

***

* Real black truffles from places that haven't been affected by Chernobyl, aren't white ones dyed black, or aren't otherwise adulterated (like soaked in oil, then resold) are very expensive - the going rate around here is about 1000-1200 euro/kg, I think.  A small piece of about 25-30 grams is fairly reasonable and will work for three special breakfasts, or as we did, two special breakfasts and some very lucky olive oil.  Also, truffle bits - what's left over after a traiteur or caterer's sliced one up as a garnish - taste just as good and cost a bit less.

Three Easy Pieces - Warm as Wool, Cool as a Concombre.

Don't know how it was by you this Summer, but ours was characterized by damp, dark, unseasonably cold weather. Heck, to add insult to injury, both the Frenchie and I ended up with head colds.*

When we finally started sprouting mold**, I suggested to the Frenchie that maybe, if for nothing other than our sanity, we head in the general direction of the sun as it obviously wasn't coming our way anytime soon. He called his best old friend from school whom he'd not seen in eons, and then it was settled. Off we headed in the big little Citroen towards Marseilles.

Long and short of it, the direct sun plus the 'southern hospitality' were exactly what a doctor would have ordered. A week became two before we started our way back up to the cold, gray north. Cannot wait to go back.

Now the Frenchie's buddy (who I'm calling Mistral) is, among other things, a bit of a folk humorist, a music historian, a farmer. I asked him if I could make something to thank him for his generosity. His answer was that he'd something green like a cucumber.

So: something green as a cucumber we have to protect the pipes of a cool-as-a-cucumber new friend. (You can download this here.)

***

* among other things that had to wait to be treated after the Summer break.

** La, je rigole. Really.

Don't know if I mentioned this before, but earlier this year I turned 40. Now, am not a big fan of birthdays*, and would have been perfectly happy to have let the year pass quietly by. The folks at my Health Care Provider, amazingly on the ball that they are, didn't forget.

Long Story Short: things started with a pep talk from my Primary Care Doctor,** saw me through not one, but several photo sessions on a few different machines including ultrasound, then led me to an appointment with the (gulp) breast oncologist and the eventual biopsy.

It's been a little over a week since the procedure and, honestly, I still smart. On the other hand, we are all now 100% sure that the little lump that I'd so affectionately named "verstunkene Schmutz"*** isn't krebsartig, but benign.

Next week, I go back for the followup, and hopefully that's it for six months? A year? Something like that.

***

* Not because of the fear of aging or anything; just don't tend to be too celebratory in general.

** "Bev, please don't be upset; I know know your difficulties..." she started. "Difficulties" was her wonderfully diplomatic terming of my habit of going into attack mode whenever a person in a white coat even looks at them in askance. The last routine exam improved greatly with my just singing some Jobim and sobbing a little bit afterwards. Feel so badly for my doctor.

*** lousy little sh#t. The doc liked it: direct, no holes barred. Of course, Later found out that she's a fellow former Buffalonian. That sort of cutting through the BS is kind of a regional characteristic.

Waste Not, Want Not.

Remember this guy?

Well, he's undergone somewhat of a transformation.

Ended up with something like 25 jars of a total treat, along with a couple pots of soup.  Am really pleased with myself.

Wasn't sure what I was going to do when I set out to peel and cut up this year's behemoth.  Since jack-o-lantern pumpkins are generally for decoration and not so much eating, figured that whatever I'd do would need to be spicy.  Ended up with something that reminds me both of apple butter and pumpkin pie.  Since we're a low-carb sort of household, we mix just a tiny dollop of it with our yogurt.  Am sure that it'd be awesome on buttered whole wheat toast.

Pumpkin Butter

4 cups cooked, mashed pumpkin
3 cups sugar
3 tsp cinnamon
3 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp allspice
1 tsp ginger
3 Tbs lemon juice

Slowly warm sugar in a large, heavy-bottomed pan.  Add pumpkin, lemon juice, spices, mixing well so that all spices and sugar is dissolved.  Bring to a boil (you're going to want to do this covered, as the mixture is very thick and will make a mess otherwise).  Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally for approximately 1/2 an hour, or until further thickened (comes off a spoon in a sheet).  Pour into clean, sterilized jars and seal.  Process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.

Makes approximately six eight ounce jars.

***

You can also substitute equal amounts of sucralose (Splenda) for the sugar, though the consistency will be more like applesauce than fruit butter.

Reestablishing Equilibrium?

Honestly didn't intend to bring another animal into the home so soon after losing Trouble, but...

Poor Magnolia, after losing her friend and suddenly having to deal with Tony on her own just doesn't know *how* to deal with the new interloper. Little black girl is dealing like a dream with all this. She's surprisingly well-adjusted for a shelter cat. About the best-adjusted cat we've seen.

The shelter folks were calling her Jet. That's a good name (brought to mind Jet Jaguar, in fact!) We've been calling her Molly, not just because she's a little black molly, but because that name goes pretty well with Maggie.

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly
she couldn't remember her troubles,

and milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:

and may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea.

***

Welcome home little Molly!

In Flanders Fields.

Not quite a hundred years ago a treaty was signed, signalling the end of hostilities on the Western Front of an awful, bloody war.  Battles continued on other fronts, and other wars followed.  In some cases, the messes we are in today are related, either directly or once removed from that "War to End All Wars."  Such sobering thoughts for such a beautiful Fall day.

Up in keeping with the tradition in these parts, I've pinned a poppy to my lapel:

It was a quick little thing and took me just a few minutes to whip up.

Materials:

* a small bit (+-30 yds) of red yarn - I used worsted weight.
* an even smaller bit (+-20 yds) of green yarn - again, worsted weight
* a suitable button and matching thread or black yarn for the pistils.
* a pair of needles. I used some US size 4 double-pointed ones, because they were the first things I picked up. Gauge isn't really important, so use whatever you like/have in front of you.
* a safety pin.

CO 28 stitches.
Rows 1-4:  Knit on odd rows, purl on even rows.
Row 5:  K2tog to end (14 stitches).
Row 6:  Purl to end.
Row 7:  K2tog to end (7 stitches).
Row 8: Purl to end.
Row 9:  K2tog, knit remaining stitch.  (4 stitches).

With darning needle, thread tail end of yarn through live stitches, pull tight and secure.  Sew two ends of fabric together to make a circle.  Sew button to front (or embroider a proper set of pistils to your poppy). 

If desired, on center back of flower, pick up two stitches, and make I-cord stem of desired length from green yarn.  Weave in all ends, make sure stem is secure, add a safety pin, and wear in Good Health and Remembrance.

Goodbye, Little Trouble.

He'd been sick for a few months, seemed to be getting better.  Suddenly, over the weekend things took a turn for the worse.  Last night, took him to the hospital.  Today, the vet told us that both the heart and kidneys were having serious problems and, to fix one would put serious stress on the other.  Plus, he needed a blood transfusion, which his heart probably wouldn't survive.

Pavel gave the permission to put him to sleep and, tonight at about 6:40 pm, we let him go.

I can't imagine how Pavel's feeling; they lived together for over 10 years.  I just know that my heart feels like it's breaking right now.

Happy Halloween!

This year, the Frenchie really got into the spirit of things and carved the pumpkin.  Note the beret basque.

As we don't normally get a lot of trick-or-treaters where I'm currently living, we were hoping for somebody, anybody.  Happily, were visited by maybe half a dozen kids.  Still have some treats to deal with (we're not really sweet eaters), but not as much as we were fearing.

Pavel got the actual fruit. I supplied the fruit flavored stuff.

Thank heavens that the weather turned decent (positively balmy compared to this weekend). 

Happy Bright Lights this dark time of the year. 

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

I’m kind of hooked on buying sweaters at thrift stores and unraveling them; currently, have three in the works and just finished two others a couple weeks back.

Anyway, sometimes I’ll find something that, in its original state, I’d never wear and the Frenchie (who still doesn’t quite get the appeal of unraveling stuff when you can buy perfectly good, new yarn) tells me I’m wasting my money on. In this case, it was a nuclear lavender mohair-blend sweater at the semi-annual “vide grenier” (community-wide yard sale) for about $4.00:

 I did feel kind of bad pulling this one apart, as someone did put a lot of effort into creating it. Still, really wanted that yarn in all its glow in the dark, fuzzy glory.

This just doesn't do justice to the color. You should be seeing waves like gaussing on an old computer screen while looking at it.

Since we’re not in what you’d call Kool Aid territory, headed over to my local African market to see what they had food dye wise. As usual, they delivered:

Red, blue, yellow, green; just like McCormick's. Espig is a food-industry supply house around Marseille, where all sorts of really Cool Stuff seems to come from. Indications on the bottles say, "for pastries, desserts and ice creams. Not to be consumed in present state." (Woudn't have considered that last one if they'd not have mentioned. Now am thinking of downing a bottle of green to see what happens.)

Did what I normally do with the yarn (skeins of about 200 m with 40 drops of color, 1/2 a cup of vinegar and water to cover. Microwave until water turns clear) - found that, for the blue, I was always going to have color remaining, and a lot of it. It cost more than the other colors, so must be much, much more concentrated. The red acted like Kool Aid or Mc Cormick red - meaning, after a few minutes, the water was clear. Let stuff cool, rinsed, then soaked in salt water for a while. Rinsed again, then set out to dry:

There goes the neighborhood. 

Ended up with something like 1600 m of a beautiful morning-fog like blue and about 300 m of a nice raspberry color. Both seem fast and am amazed at the depth and variation of color in both. (Apparently, there was a bit of acrylic).  Am currently working on a classic doily pattern with some of the blue (pictures forthcoming.  I'm not quite done with it yet) and have the rest kind of earmarked for a circular shawl or two.

Heavens, can’t imagine what the yarn would have cost if I were to have bought it pre wound, pre dyed, packaged-up.

Relatively Sweet Fruits of Failure.

After having tried to learn to use a drop spindle for some time, I’ve come to some conclusions:
 
-I’m not very good at it (really - I’ve been attempting for a couple years now; bought books, watched videos, even paid for private lessons.  Practiced like crazy.).

-I don’t think I enjoy the process.

This is okay; we all can’t love everything we do, nor can we be good at all we set out to learn. If I can’t get beyond my current park-and-draft limping into lopi, so be it. The thing is, what to do with the leftover, half spun stuff (aside from using it raw in projects or giving it away) that’s been accumulating?

Set to work by using means that I do enjoy and in which I have a bit of competency:

First thing I did was to drop my attempts into dye baths that I thought might work out. Let stuff dry, and was kind of amazed with the results - not only from the color standpoint, but from the wool-quality one.  The Bit of Red felted itself into a dred worthy of maybe being sold to a trustafarian somewhere (Boston not being a College Town, am not sure where). Got a lay of the land gauge-wise then just started iCording my way into a solution.

Don’t think it turned out too terribly badly. Kind of aht-sy, even.  Would wear it if it weren't destined to be given away.  Heck:  might even consider making another.

WIPS.

Don't know if it was due to the weather, hormones, or just general malaise, but just could *not* get anything right today.  Since am feeling like I have a foot permanently stuffed in the mouth, will keep the words to a minimum and let the pictures do the talking. 

(I think they're saying in warm and soothing tones, "Keep it simple.  Persevere.")

Recently, I've been getting into fermenting stuff - maybe because of my own recent episodes with antibiotics, maybe due to that biological clock thing.   Who knows? All's I knows is that I'm feeling the need to nurture something that might possibly nurture me back someday.  Anyway, here're some of the Somerville Test Kitchen's subjects of the moment:

Choucroute.

I guess that this is coming back into style, as I've now seen stuff from both Martha Stewart Living and Lifehacker. Made a couple batches for the Frenchie, and his feedback has been good.

Cabbage
Kosher Salt
Distilled or Filtered Water
Caraway Seeds or Juniper Fruits if you're into that sort of thing

Shred your cabbage thin. In a crock, large mason jar, pickle jar, whatever you've got - put down a layer of cabbage, then tamp it with a wooden spoon as much as you can. You're going to want to both release juices and get rid of air bubbles. Sprinkle this layer with some kosher salt (about a tablespoon or so; the more the better, as this is what helps keep the cabbage crisp) as well as with a bit of spice, if you want it. Repeat the cabbage/salt layer thing until you get to about an inch from the top of your vessel of choice, ending with salt. Cover with water. Cover loosely, and let sit in a cool, dark place, checking daily to see that everything's still covered with water. (If it isn't, add more.) Should be ready to eat in about a week, but you can keep it fermenting for longer. To prepare for eating - just rinse and eat raw, or rinse and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Is great with a pork chop, a sausage...a potato or an apple, maybe.

Wine!

Am following this recipe to the word. At this point, all I can say is that my balloon's started to inflate. Will keep folks posted.   


Yogurt.


Eventually, I'd like to get a yogurt maker, as the temperature regulation is so much easier than without one.  Until I do finally go out and find one I like (one with one large pot as opposed to seven or eight little ones), this recipe works very nicely.  Have to say, though, that, since we keep the house kind of chilly, it takes a fair bit more time (like 2-3x) than what's noted in the recipe for the yogurt to set.  Even then (and this doesn't bother me at all), it's more like kefir or a very thick buttermilk.


Gentiane.

Okay, technically this isn't anything fermented; it's a decoction.  Still, really wanted to share, as it's just such a lovely thing.

During the Summer, had my first taste of Salers, a sort of sweet aperitif liquor with gentian root at its base.  Wondered if I could make something similar to it myself, only without the sugar.  Here's what I came up with:

750 ml neutral spirits (I used a mid priced vodka, like Smirnoff.)
1/2 oz dried gentian root
the peel of one orange, grated

Put ingredients in a 1 qt container, like a mason jar, for example.  Shake up, then set aside in a cool dry place for a minimum of one week, shaking daily.  Mine's been sitting now for just under three weeks, and it smells absolutely wonderful.  Might try a thimbleful one of these days.

Columbus Day.

In honor of the day, headed out west to visit "a special place designated by the Massachusetts Executive Office of Environmental Affairs because it exemplifies the unique qualities of the Commonwealth."

Drunk in a fair bit of vitamin D along with the view.  Is it me, or does it seem that the leaves are changing awfully early this year?

Such a glorious day.  Am hoping for at least a few more like it.

Breakfast of Champions.
 

 Brunch at the Spring Hill Cafe.  Today it's pretty calm.  Sometimes it's like Sound Bites in Ball Square on a weekend morning during the school year.

One of the things I've been doing lately (and I'll get into that later) is try to eat differently (and, hopefully, better).  This has led me to cutting out all grain products, as much sugar as possible, caffeine, alcohol...essentially a sort of liver cure/metabolism helper sort of deal. 

My normal breakfast of an egg or two, some meat and a salad is normally pretty good.  It does get monotonous sometimes, though.  Today, just couldn't stand another egg and really wanted something creamy and dessert-y.  Came up with this adaptation of a lovely, luscious shake from my favorite Vietnamese restaurant (which normally uses sweetened condensed milk, more cream and comes topped with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry).  Am so happy with how it turned out:

Avocado Smoothie

1 ripe Haas avocado
1/2 c kefir or buttermilk or a  mixture of 5-6 yogurt and 2-3 T water
4 ice cubes
1T coconut oil (if you have it)
a splash of cream or half and half
sweetener of choice to taste, if desired


Peel, pit and cut avocado into 4-6 pieces.  Put in blender with all other ingredients and whizz away until smooth.  Drink down immediately. 

Serves 1.

Optional - if you'd like a bit of extra protein and this doesn't give you the heebie jeebies, toss in a raw egg.  You can buy them pasteurized nowadays, or, if you can't find them that way - just dunk in boiling water for 30-60 seconds.  (I have found that about 40 seconds works for me.  Beyond that, I usually end up with a semi-poached egg.)

The Frenchie was telling me that there should be some sort of astral pyrotechnics - meteor showers?  comets? - over Europe the next few nights.  Nothing so spectacular here right now; the Perseids were the last big thing around these parts I think.  Still, condensation trails reflecting the red of the setting sun isn't too shabby.

After a fair period of wet, the weather's turned absolutely glorious.  The past few days, we've had spectacular sunrises, a warm and intense daylight, lovely pastel-ey sunsets.  Folks have been calling it "Indian Summer," but I think it's too early for that; haven't had a frost yet.

Moved indoor operations outdoors as much as I could so as to drink in that wonderful, free vitamin D.  Noted that a lot of the Spring plantings bloomed again, possibly (sadly) for the last time this year.  Picked three small melons that tasted like cucumbers from a withered vine, watered the amazingly fast-growing lettuce, planted the late kale. 

On the one hand, I would be very happy if things would stay the way they are.  On the other, perhaps I'm seeing it as so beautiful precisely because it won't last.  Warm, soft and golden will be replaced by bare branches and crystal - a bit harder, with sharper edges, but not without their own charms.