It's been hectic here for a while. I started work on a book proposal, and then Mr W got quite ill with an awful chest cold, and about ten days later - after much energy expended in avoiding the inevitable - I got it too (cough, cough, hack, wheeze!).
The good news is - I finished the proposal for a fourth book! The bad news is... there is no bad news really. Except that although the writing part is done I had wanted some images to attach to the proposal. Oddly no one wants to pose for pictures for someone who hacks loudly into the phone, then says "Tho, hey, I deed dum pik-durs for dis brobozull...." (bad imitation of stuffy-nose MMO there - translated that reads "So, hey, I need some pictures for this proposal", in case you couldn't understand - which would not be a surprise to me, really!)
I am VERY excited about going to Virginia next week for SoXperience. We love the island. Mr. W is coming along and we are leaving the home fires in the capable hands of Girl and her own personal Mr. W.
Oh goodness. Did I ever share wedding pictures? Who wants to see wedding pictures? Because this was an amazing wedding!
So, somewhat out of order we have....
Girl and Mr. Wonderful breaking it down. There's a video that goes with this... because it was an Epic Father Daughter Dance
A tree with birdhouses, which makes no sense unless you were there, and may also make no sense if you WERE there...
A house for cards - keep in mind the bird house thing - and hankies for happy tears
Most amazing shoes EVER! Custom designed Converse high tops created by Nate Brasells - I know there's nothing in the shop now, but message them and ask! These shows are amazing, a total amalgamation of Girl and Jerbil, from video game motifs to scripture versus to Jamie Cullum references and SO much more. Just amazing, all in full color on a pair of sneakers!
A Girl and her Grandpa
A Girl and her husband. Akk! Girl (that's her, far left!) has a HUSBAND!!
Toe tapping in those high tops!
Girl and Jerbil entertaining us, Minecraft Style...
Early last week Mr. Wonderful complained of a slight bit of a cold-coming-on feeling. I told him he was fine, which is what I do. I also say that to people who are limping, bleeding, or hanging over the porcelain throne in abject misery. "You're fine." I say, "Suffering builds character!"
Then one night late last week we swam and had a class in the pool. Mr. W spent a little time before class in the hot tub, where chlorine is usually higher than in the pool. The chlorine levels in the air seemed high to everyone at the beginning of class. I didn't really notice; I don't even smell it any more! Anyway, as we got aerobic doing our water jogging, we were all suddenly taken with coughing fits. I felt light-headed, hot, and agitated, as if I wanted to run away from where we were without really knowing why or where I should be going. I felt fuzzy in the brain, and generally not well. I felt most uncomfortable where I was. I pulled off my swim cap and kept going under water in an attempt to cool off. Everyone's eyes burned fiercely. People complained of feeling off, hot, not well, uncomfortable. We moved to deep water work, which means less cardio, and still we were not comfortable. One woman asked for the fan to be turned to face her because she could not breathe. Everyone complained of some level of discomfort. We left after class. Eyes still burning, Mr. W and I coughed all night long.
The next day I headed to the pool for lap swim with eyes still burning. I then learned that a critical ventilation fan was not working correctly, and instead of pulling the heavily chlorine laden air from the pool it was recirculating it within the pool room. In other words, there was no ventilation in the pool area at all. Doors were opened and fans placed, but still the chlorine was strong enough to cause many people to leave early.
The next day Mr. W. was beginning to look very ill - his "little cold" has taken on symptoms more consistent with bronchitis or pneumonia. He never gets sick, and when he does it lasts for 2-3 days at most. So far, two folks present at the pool during this two-day period have been treated by their doctors for eye problems as a result of the high chlorine levels in the air. Everything I swallow tastes odd and faintly chlorinated, and my eyes still sting a little. I cannot wait for summer and open water. My concerns about my swimming ability are being tempered by the thought of all these chemicals and what they may be doing to us. Scary! Better a nice fish-filled lake than a pool full of chlorine!
I've saved the fun bit for last, if you're still reading. What if I said I was working on a book proposal? Maybe another book? Just one more, because I can't resist? Or maybe two more? Or three?
For now, we'll take it one book at a time. Maybe no one will want to publish it, and the proposal will languish in some in-or-out-box for months. Maybe it will be rejected flat out, off hand, before they even read it, and it will head directly for the nearest circular file. But maybe... maybe someone will want it. Time will tell - but here's hoping that there's more than 3 books in me!
Hello, blog. Long time, no see. Just thought I'd stop by and share a few things.
First, Girl (who is now an old married lady!) and I went to the local butterfly museum with friends recently. We saw some lovely things, and spent some time in the delicious 85 degree air. Mmmm! An excellent break from winter!
They have a lovely koi pond...
brilliant hibiscus...
and of course...butterflies!
It was wonderful to just walk and sit and stretch in the warmth. Made me wish I was a butterfly. Although in a manner of speaking, I am!
Second, Yoshi has been unmanned. Sad but true.
He took it like a trooper, and survived very well. His stitches are out, and the cone of shame has been removed, and he's back to his regular old self. On the first night he convinced me that his buster collar was too big, so I cut a couple of inches off. In the middle of the night I caught him licking places he should not have been able to lick, so I taped the cut-away section of collar back on.
Stylin', right? Who wouldn't want to wear a cone adorned with purple tie-dye duct tape? I really just grabbed the first tape that came to hand, and this was it. I still am in awe of how well he handled the whole process, especially the cone. I really expected him to freak out, but he came out of surgery with it on and just accepted it as part of life. He was very relived when it came off, though - lots of scratching and rolling and licking went on.
I've been knitting madly on the contents of Kristen Rengren's Vintage Baby Knits book. I took this on a couple of years ago, but haven't applied a lot of time to it until suddenly, lately, when I felt compelled to go into attack mode.
I love this book. I cannot say how much I truly LOVE this book! From the top left, here's Betty Lou Cardigan, Audrey Hoodie, Pearl Shrug, Milo Soakers, Floyd Pullover, and Louise Cardigan, with the Billie Beret in the center. I am currently finishing up the Rufus Textured Cardigan. You don't need babies in the offing. Just start knitting, that way if one pops up, you're prepared!
It's been a busy winter - I even learned how to swim! It's kind of a big deal for me because I am very afraid of the water and had never been able to learn before. I think it helps that the pool is always around 84 degrees. It makes it easier to be less scared when you're running away from winter!
I've been asked a couple of times lately why I haven't been blogging. There's so much I could say about that, so many excuses I could give. The truth is that, as the title of this post says, life happens. Sometimes life happens in a way that you don't want to share, or that makes sharing complicated.
Since my mother's death I've spent a lot of time thinking and pondering my life; what it looked like then, what I wanted it to look like, and how divergent those two visions and experiences had become. When I first commenced to write 2-at-a-Time Socks my life was fairly uncomplicated. Kids were grown, things were stable and settled, and the chaos that comes with writing and launching what turned out to be a very popular book seemed manageable.
My mother had her first heart attack the weekend before I delivered the manuscript for 2-at-a-Time Socks to Gwen Steege at McCusker's Market in Shelburne. I went directly from the market to Springfield to bring her home from cardiac catheterization. It marked the beginning of a complicated time in my life. In brief, the second book was delivered to Gwen the day after a fierce ice storm on the day that my mother had a spinal fusion - Gene drove me to North Adams to drop everything off, and we went directly from Storey to Mercy Hospital. By the time I started working on TYV Circular Knitting, I had lived through most of Lyme. All three boys married between October of 2010 and July of 2011. My mother's condition declined further, and as I shared here she died on November 13, 2011. Girl - the same Girl you met here in 2005 - is getting married in a matter of days. In between there's been moves (mine, my mothers - three times, Girl's - first off to college and then into an apartment of her own), changes, alterations, adaptations, stresses, joys, sorrows, and celebrations.
Life happens. Seven years have flown by. Much has been amazing, and I am so grateful for the blessings I've received. But much has been painful, and there is a lot I would choose to forget.
It is not uncommon for me to change the course of my life. I have been many things, and hope to be many more. Right now I am playing around with my life, trying to determine where I am headed next. Thank you for sharing in this part of the adventure. I am not sure if the blog will continue or not, but thought you should at least get a little insight into what's been going on here. What's going on is change, and even I am not sure what that means yet!
First, a Public Service Announcement, brought to you by the Survivors of Melissa's Mom Brigade:
Five months ago today, my mother lost a war with mental illness and with herself, and died. This was her choice. She left behind one daughter, two wonderful grandchildren, and a great-granddaughter, none of who's lives will ever be the same as a result of her actions and choices. If you or someone you love suffers from depression or any form of mental illness, please get help. Know that the choices you make will have profound impact on the people in your life. You can choose to help yourself, or you can choose to hurt yourself. I pray that you will make the right choice.
Now that we've got that out of the way - I have been a busy girl. This whole selling of a house thing is kind of stressful, but I am enjoying it. We have a few "very interested" parties, some of whom have homes to sell. And so, we all wait!
In the meantime, I get back to life. I designed two items for someone's book, but can't show them to you just yet. Well. Maybe a sneak peek:
Item One:
Item Two:
I know you will never guess what they are from these images, will you?
I've also been more homey lately, which I find excellent for recovering from the drama that invaded my life over the last few years. I started making lacto-fermented vegetables. This is much less odd than it sounds. Before there was vinegar, there was lacto-fermentation. Vegetables were allowed to ferment naturally, which created an acid brine. These vegetables contain lots and lots of the things that are good for your tummy - think Jaime Lee Curtis' whole Activia thing, only you can eat something other than yogurt to get what your body needs.
I've also been fermenting, curdling, inoculating and in all manner of ways playing with milk. Raw cow's milk, to be precise. I've made yogurt before - you may recall - and I've done that a few times since. But I wanted to know more. I wanted to do more. So I went on a bit of a spree. So far I've made creme fraiche, neufchatel, buttermilk, something I called American mozzerella, something that I called paneer (both of those were really tragic cottage cheese failures), yogurt... I think that's it. Oh, butter! Of course butter!
The cottage cheese thing really bugged me. Two failures. I don't fail particularly well, but I do persevere. I felt like my directions were flawed, even though they came from a very reputable source. I did some digging, and determined that the directions I was using really were not to make the kind of cottage cheese I wanted. They were to make what's called a "dry curd" cheese. A little more Googling, a little reading of Carla Emery's Encyclopedia of Country Living (mine is older than that one!), and I hit on just the right method. Carla Emery stresses that cottage cheese is more art than science. You can follow all the rules (as I had!) and still fail. There is, it turns out, a bit of instinct involved in this whole cheesy thing.
Fortified with this new knowledge, I forged ahead. Again.
First I inoculated my room-temperature raw milk with cultured buttermilk, to make it more acid. Some people use vinegar or lemon juice to curdle the milk. I prefer the flavor of fermented milk, so I went with my cultured buttermilk instead. Then I added some vegetable rennet. I prefer vegetable rennet because non-vegetable rennet comes from a calves stomach lining. Since I don't have a calf, and can't make my own rennet, that means the rennet I had been using before I found the vegetable kind came from a commercially reared calf. Not ok for my ethics. So vegetable it is.
After about six hours, I had a beautiful curd in the pan. Unfortunately I did not get a picture of it, but it broke perfectly over my finger. I've put in links there to other people's websites so that you can see what breaking curd should look like.
After the curd was formed, I cut the curd into pieces of about an inch. Then I let it rest for a bit. Next I stirred it up to help it to release more whey. I put it on the burner of my range at a very low temperature, and VERY slowly, about 2 degrees every 5 minutes, raised the temperature, stirring all the while.
Well, mostly stirring. Sometimes I stopped to take pictures, or yell at Yoshi (more on that in a minute), or scratch my head, or just sigh and sip coffee and behave in a manner that expressed boredom.
I stirred and heated, heated and stirred until the curd began to dry out. You know your curd is drying when it begins to feel firm if you snatch out a piece and squeeze it between your fingers. Or taste it. I may have done both. Once the curd reached a consistency that I liked - and this was at a MUCH lower temperature than was suggested by any of the recipes I have on hand - I drained the whey from the curd through cheesecloth in my colander. I rinsed the dried curd in cold water, in part to remove any residual whey and in part to reduce the temperature of the curd quickly to avoid them becoming too dry.
They looked like this:
It looks kind of like cottage cheese, right? I was so impressed with myself by this point. But the cottage cheese is not quite done. It needs to be salted, and have a bit of cream added to give it some moisture. Cheese curds on their own are quite dry, and need a little help.
I had used all the cream to make creme fraiche, so I added creme fraiche instead of cream, along with some kosher salt.
I gently folded and stirred...
and after a while I had:
COTTAGE CHEESE!
And then I had to make anyone around taste it, to make sure it really was cottage cheese. Meg refused, as she does not like cottage cheese, but Jeroth and Gene both tried it and said "Hey. That tastes like cottage cheese!" They sounded almost as surprised as I was.
Why was I yelling at Yoshi yesterday? Well, yesterday a box of 25 baby meat birds arrived at our house.
Yoshi and Boo were very interested to see them. Boo likes to just wag and look and sniff. Yoshi has other plans. He wants to EAT ALL THE BABY MEAT RIGHT NOW. I put he and Boo back in the house so I could do a quick head count...
Yup, 26 babies, Freedom Rangers from Freedom Ranger Hatchery in Pennsylvania! Aren't they cute? Don't get too attached... they are only here for 8-10 weeks, and will only be this cute for about 7 days of that time!
I wasn't expecting these babies until the next day (today), which meant I was completely unprepared for their arrival. Gene had moved the stock tanks I rear them in up into the attic of the barn, and I can't get up there because I am ... well ... a pygmy. I needed to wait for him to come and help, and he didn't get home for another two hours. I used that time to finish the cottage cheese. And keep Yoshi from destroying the front door in an attempt to get to the baby meat in the mud room. He did a lot of "down-stay". He would have only had to do it once if he hadn't kept popping up. He got really annoyed with me.
I can hear his little voice in my head. "You know what, mom? That's just fine. You go ahead and make me lie down here. We all know that as I lie here, those baby meats are RIGHT THERE, TAUNTING ME! I HATE you mom. I am too hurt to even notice you."
Aren't they cute? I love instinct. I love that these guys hatched on April 11th, and were in a shipping box a few hours later, arriving at my post office on the afternoon of the 12th. At 36 hours old they are more active, vigorous, healthy and strong than any chicks I have ever had before, meat or eggs!
Time for me to get back to it, whatever it is. On today's agenda: rip out raised garden beds, sign an offer on a new house, take Boo to the vet, and find some packing boxes. Soon, I can feel it, we'll be moving on!
I have been asked "why" a lot since I started planning this wedding for my kid and her fiancee, the Gerbil who came to my front door one day and never went away. Oh, we tried to send him packing. The first time we met him was at my first book launch. I thought he was there with her friend Katie, and that was ok by me. Go ahead, Gerbil-boy. Date Katie. Stay away from my kid. Turns out he was holding Girl's hand behind her friend's backs in the photo of the four of them taken that day. The next time I saw him was when Girl tried to kill him with her car by driving it into the side of an SUV. Gerbil brought her home in his car after the accident. He opened the door for her, and followed her in. I took one look at his young face and thought to myself "We are doomed. He's in love." Mr. Wonderful knew it too, in his gut, but I don't think he yet had words for it. He became instantly nervous, jittery, and cracked rude jokes. We even sent her to Indiana for a year to see if that would end it, but still they stayed together.
One day he showed up here and said he needed to talk to Mr. Wonderful and I alone. He asked for our blessing - not permission, but blessing - in asking our daughter to marry him. We said yes. They didn't really give us a choice.
Girl recently sent me this essay, one she wrote and submitted somewhere and had rejected (FOOLS!! Reject MY kid?). It answers the "Why?" question perfectly. Why am I planning (and paying for) this wedding? Why am I not discouraging my daughter from marrying her first love? Why am I not 'making' her play the field a little more, to see what's out there? Why would I sell an arm to make sure she has fairy land trees on her reception tables? This is why:
If you're the sarcastic type of person I used to be, you'll go to that big
old dusty book that sits neglected on the shelf and find the handy definition
of love. You may even go so far as to memorize it in case any friends sigh into
the air, "What is the meaning of love anyway?" According to good ol'
Merriam Webster love is, "strong affection for another arising out of
kinship or personal ties" and "attraction based on sexual
desire" as well as "affection and tenderness felt by lovers;
affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests" So love
is easily summed up in a few sentences? Of course. Any feeling can be tied up
in such a tidy bow. But on the cutting room floor lay the extra bits of love,
the real meat behind the fluff, if you will. Shall we take a look at it
together?
Until about four years
ago my whole life was filled with watching. I watched other hearts soar and
invariably crash a few months later as attraction faded. I heard the word love
bandied about by anyone from toddler to teen to adult and always with the same
bitter end. Of course I had my examples of undying love too. My parents met and
seem to still be falling in love with each other. But their love didn't
interest me the same way the sporadic infatuations of my peers did. I wanted to
know what the big deal was, why the burning indulgent flames that consumed them
were so worth the hurt when they were properly doused by reality. So, when a
sullen-looking young man with dancing green eyes started following me around I
let him. When he started looking less sullen and more charming I decided to see
if I could like him. When his eyes said he loved me I decided to see if I could
love him back. Little did I suspect I already did.
What started as an
experiment has turned into a way of life. Suddenly the ups and downs of friends
don't seem so exciting. In fact the quiet - steady love of my parents has become
far more intriguing to me. Their love and mutual respect has been around since
I can remember. I never really gave it any thought because to me it seemed as
normal as the sun rising. Of course my parents had water-fights in the kitchen.
Of course they giggled like children playing. It wouldn't be home if they
didn't play tug-o-war over a dishcloth or a package of chocolates.
While I could never
find the words to tell the meaning of love I have learned a lot about its
nature from watching my parents and from trial and error with my own love. It
isn't a solid feeling. It doesn't run away or lose interest. Attractions and
lusts can sometimes feel like love but they disappear at the first sign of
effort. Love takes a lot of work which wasn't something I knew before I met
this man of mine. It seems so effortless in movies, the bad guys are always
proven to be bad, and the good guys always catch the train just before the girl
leaves. But love itself isn't two actors reading from a proofread script. It's
two people looking into each other and wanting to be around everything the
other is. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as
you both draw breath from this earth.
My favorite thing
about love is how it grows infinitely. From the corny jokes to the long
silences, I never would have thought I could be entirely myself with another
person and actually gain their love and respect by doing it. Inspired by love
I've learned the importance of absolute honesty not only with him but with
myself. I've learned that patience is more valuable than being right. And that
picking your battles is less about battling and more about realizing whatever
the fight would have been about just wasn't worth it. You cannot build love
together without building a life to support and nurture it, and let me say, it
is a beautiful life to have.
I can plan this wedding with soaring joy in my heart, I can stand by and watch my husband "give" my only daughter away to a man I have come to love as one of my own easily and with very little concern for the future of who they will become together. Oh, sure, they'll have their issues as we all do, but at the end of the day, what we were trying to teach them? Apparently, they got it. And they are going to be just fine.
The rabbit hole that is Pinterest has claimed me in ways that are both inspirational and unhealthy. Because our house is on the market, and every house we are looking at is significantly smaller than the one we're currently in, I have found it to be invaluable in helping me sort rooms and contents, find design and storage ideas that appeal to me, and so forth. I even have a board for recipes and things, although I am trying to keep that under control. The other day, however, Pinterest veered me right into and then through the wall that is sanity. I saw, thanks to one Grace Hernandez, a link to a blog wherein a Peep Wreath had been constructed. Yes, you heard me, a Peep Wreath. Not since *Tacky Tree has anything so captivated the scarier side of my brain. I became obsessed with the idea of making and owning my own Peep Decor. I mentioned this on Facebook and it turned into a Peep-a-Long, with multiple players in their homes across the country, finished objects to be revealed on Monday.
In the end I wavered on the wreath and instead ended up with a Peep Tree. The wreath posed some problems for me. I could not decide where to hang it. Inside, and it would get sugar on the walls and floor of a house I am trying to sell. On a door outside I have a few thousand winged girlfriends in the back yard who would be all over it like... well, like bees on sugar. As I stood in the craft store staring at various shapes the idea of a Peep Tree formed in my mind.
Here are my supplies:
I should add here that my husband, daughter, and future son-in-law were pretty strongly impressed with the notion that I might indeed have finally lost that cheese that clings every so perilously to the edge of my cracker. Me? A Peep ANYTHING? Corn syrup? Sugar that has been both bleached AND dyed? Really?
This didn't stop me from gaining at least one willing volunteer:
Although convinced of the craziness of this project, he nonetheless sacrificed himself by opening the Peeps and sorting them into color co-ordinated piles. Some of the piles had fewer Peeps than others in the end. I have no idea where they might have strayed. Mr. Wonderful also was instrumental in snapping toothpicks in half. Toward the top of the tree the toothpicks went straight through, stabbing my fingers and pushing opposed, already attached Peeps right off of their perches. Not particularly effective. I also dragged out my trusty high-temp glue gun. This was a bit like bringing a bazooka to a baseball game. Peeps are made of sugar. Sugar and high temperatures can make for some interesting crafting moments.
Round one:
Although I managed to get it assembled, something just wasn't speaking to me. At one point I heard Mr. Wonderful mumble from the kitchen "You know, from here it doesn't look bad...". It didn't. It just didn't look, well, RIGHT. Even the cat was unimpressed.
I added a bow to the topper to spiff things up a bit.
That helped, but it still was not right. So I started playing with the ribbon, looping it over the tree like garland. Now we were on to something!
One completed Peep Tree.
The big question is: did I eat any? The answer is yes.
One purple Peep, which I floated on a lake of organic cocoa and date sugar. No dairy, no artificial anything, just one corn syrup, bleached, dyed, scary purple sugared thing floating on top.
In other news, I have been knitting...
baby sweater one (from my brain, but I sort of wrote it down and am thinking of publishing it if I can find a baby to stick into it).
baby sweater two (also from my brain and going in the mail tomorrow).
The baby thing has kind of been a theme lately. I honestly think it is because I love the instant gratification aspect more than anything else. I need to finish up a lace scarf this week that has been languishing - I love it, I love the yarn, but some other things came up and drew my mind and hands away. Then it will be time to begin designing and knitting things for the wedding. I am probably not going to talk much about that until after September 29. But after that you can expect one big entry (or several smaller ones) with every detail of the DIY wedding, including - if permission is granted - a picture or two of the happy couple. We are nearing in on the 6 months out mark. And trying to sell a house. While handcrafting a wedding. While writing up some patterns. While contemplating my next book. And they wonder why I am not traveling as much this year!
*Tacky Tree: Tacky Tree is a holiday tradition of sorts. It began when I was a flat broke single mother, and someone gave my kids a scrawny tree. I had maybe $20 in my pocket that day, and we spent it all on ornaments and garland. It now occurs randomly. Something inspires a Tacky Tree year - say I find a white tree with sparkles at the dump for free and just can't leave it there. Or maybe I discover that my ornaments are buried under piles of moving stuff. Or maybe we are "between trees" and I end up with a scrawny sub-Charlie Brown thing in a stand. Or maybe I just need a reminder of where I came from. Regardless, Tacky Tree goes like this: ALL items placed on Tacky Tree (other than lights and garland) must cost as little as possible - the maximum allowable amount spent on Tacky Tree is $20. Dollar store items are preferred. All items added to Tacky Tree must have at least some sparkle. Tacky Tree can accept gift ornaments from outside of the home, and these ornaments can cost more than a couple of bucks as long as they are not purchased by the owner of Tacky Tree. Try it some year. It's a lot of fun.
