Running Screaming into the Night

So, I finally had my scarf rhythm. You know, on the ever-so-freaking-simple quasi-lace little pattern. The one a real knitter could do while anesthetized. Yeah. That one.

Happily knitting along, everything working, no wackiness, several inches of stretchy soft grey goodness on 28 little stitches. (Well, the stitches were quite big, but 28 is not many, I mean.)

Until.

There. Were. 26.

AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH.

Had I a knitting mentor, I probably could have handed it to them and they could have said, "Oh, yeah, look what you did here," futzed for a minute with the row below, and handed it back to me with my beloved 28 stitches back.

Having none, I cursed myself for trying to watch television while doing anything but knit stitches (I've even said this!), and I ripped the damned thing.

I don't know what my problem is. This has been my besetting issue ever since I started knitting. Yet, over time, I've knit scarves (with cables, even), fingerless gloves, socks, hats (Fair Isle and cabled). I still can never seem to get over the "mysterious screwup that messes with my stitch count," no matter what. Except for in colorwork, because it's color-coded. I can't screw it up.

I'm going to go have dinner now and start. it. again.

Yes. Except for the Celibacy.

Your result for The Who Would You Be in 1400 AD Test...

The Monk

You scored 24% Cardinal, 67% Monk, 35% Lady, and 32% Knight!

You live a peaceful, quiet life. Very little danger comes your way and you live a long time. You are wise and modest, but also stagnant. You have little comfort, little food and have taken a vow of silence. But who needs chatter when just sitting in the cloister of your abbey with The Good Book makes you perfectly content.

Take The Who Would You Be in 1400 AD Test at HelloQuizzy

Disorganized

I was going to get up and go to Mass at the new cathedral today, to give the interior a chance. But that Mass was at 10 and I woke up around 9:40. Probably could have made it in a mad dash, but then one's not really recollected, y'know?

I was up in plenty of time for my usual Mass but futzed around and then had to make a mad dash there. So much for recollection. One of my favorite Jesuits was celebrating, so I managed to settle down eventually.

I came home afterwards, lollygagged a bit and then went to the store. I'm in frugal mode, so it wasn't nearly as much fun as I normally have. Alas.

I have to go bone and skin the chicken leg quarters I got to make the coq a reisling for Friday. Actually, I'm going to make it Thursday night since it allegedly improves with an overnight for flavors to meld. I will need to grab dill, a leek, and some mushrooms on my way home Thursday. I think the recipe calls for bone-in, but I just don't like fishing bones out of stew while I'm eating it, so they're history. Cutting them up now will mean less small-fridge-space taken up for the next few days.

My dinner guest for Friday is a friend with a great history of being a flake vis a vis engagements. The good thing about this dish is that it seems like I could eat it myself over the course of several dinners and it'd be fine. It's not like I'm going to be standing at the stove doing something complicated, which I'd be a little annoyed at doing just for myself. And that says something about me... I'm trying to do the complicated stuff even just for me, but feedback is nice.

I heated up some of my kiwi daiquiri jam last night and poured it over the tiny bit of leftover vanilla ice cream I had. Nowhere near as pretty as a berry or plum jam -- but verrrrry good. I did bail on the thought of making my own ice cream for Friday (see: frugal and tendency to flake). Ben & Jerry's will do just fine.

Now, off to knit! (I got the scarf working again.)

Chuckle

You're 55% Irish

You're very Irish, and most likely from Ireland. (And if you're not, you should be!)

How Irish Are You?

I'm more Scottish than Irish, but with red hair and freckles, everyone assumes the latter first anyway!

This is How it Goes

Ah, my knitting dorkitude.

I'm sure if I videoed myself, I'd be able to go, "Aha! See, that's where I screwed it up!"

So I decided to just use a very plain, simple mesh stitch to make myself a light scarf out of the grey alpaca-silk I have. I only have two skeins, so need something airy, and I'm usually warm, so nothing too hefty anyway.

It's just p1, yo, p2tog, repeat, end p1. Hard? No. Can I execute purls and yarnovers? Yes I can.

I did a trial run that basically served as a swatch, and I thought it was a little wide, but at least I wasn't ending up with too few or too many stitches. So I cast on ten fewer stitches, did a two-row garter border, and then did my first row of the revised edition.

And had one too few stitches at the end of it.

Argh.

I'm taking a break to stretch and have some coffee, and then I'm getting back to it, damnit. I will not let a four-stitch pattern defeat me.

So Cool

I'm living vicariously. How very cool. She also gets to own the queen of disapproving bunnies.

My birding class starts Wednesday. I know it's a tiny baby step sort of thing, but I'm really excited. I love any kind of class, I'm excited to learn about this (it's hard for me to teach myself -- see knitting), and the field trips should be fun.

I am concerned because the last time I took an adult school class, it was at a high school, and the chairs were way too small for the voluptuous likes of me. And this was in 2000. I'm hoping there will just be a counter or something I can sit on or anyway lean against.

You know, I look at myself and though I'm not a small person, I'm also not point-and-stare big. It's funny how many things are still uncomfortable for people my size, though. Oh well... slooooowly working on it.

Speaking of the self-taught knitting, though... I was most irritated at myself. I started a simple lace scarf, then realized the instructions had to be off numerically. No way they could work. Found another pattern in one of my books, and managed to screw it up twice -- once badly, once in such a way that I decided it was a freakin' design feature -- and then, when I thought I had it... I was one stitch short at the end of a pattern row.

I ripped, put my needles down, and went to bed. Note to self: Do not watch The Daily Show or The Colbert Report while trying to knit anything other than garter or stockinette.

Weight Mystery

Somehow, even though I have been slack in my walking and very uneven in battling my ravenous hours, I managed to lose a few ounces since my last weigh-in. So, not exciting in the weight-loss way, but I am pretty amazed that I haven't gained anything back.

I think the reason lies somewhere around the fact that I used to eat an incredible amount of food (sating that ravenous hunger always), so even eating a somewhat-larger-than-is-perhaps-advised amount of food is still quite an improvement.

Weird dreams last night... that I lived in an apartment that had a sleeping porch a la some of the dorms at my college -- they had no glass windows you could close, just blinds that could be drawn down over the open half -- and one of my cats jumped out to a bad end. Then I was at a Catholic wedding at a Buddhist temple (?); I'd never met the bride, who was the friend of a friend, but I was a bridesmaid in a dress reminiscent of one I wore in my middle sister's wedding nearly thirty years ago. They had brought in a tabernacle, which was a low, heavy, glazed-ceramic box, and my friend and I went and bowed before it, attracting some attention from the Buddhists. We won some sort of scavenger hunt contest and the bride brought us champagne. Apparently the groom owned the building from which my cat had jumped and was actually some kind of playboy who shouldn't have been getting married, and some guy showed me a large bag of pot he was carrying.

This is what happens when I sleep too late.

Meant to Fake a Frittata

to use up various things in the kitchen.

Of course, when I got home, I found that I had no eggs to use up. So I ran down to Safeway while I defrosted spinach and bacon. Came back, cooked bacon, sauteed garlic and onions, beat six eggs with salt and pepper, and threw the whole lot in together.

It became a scramble, because, never having made anything like this in this pan, I didn't realize said pan would probably make a 12-egg frittata, but not a 6-egg one. Way too big!

However, as a scramble it was fine. More salt and pepper next time, and possibly cheese... I figured it was bad enough for me as it was.

It did use up an onion, a head of garlic, a package of frozen spinach and some frozen leftover bacon. Quite filling and enough for two more meals.

Off to knit. I'm alternating the green Koigu sock with a scarf in grey alpaca-silk. I need to settle down and get something done!

As You Can See

I am a poor, starving, neglecgted kitty. My life, it is very trying. I resort to eating paper towels and plastic (mmm -- I just love plastic anyway!), but Mom does not relent. She's very mean.

Do You Reckon

My cat, who complains constantly about the vet-ordered diet, was being sarcastic when she jumped up here and began to lick the wadded-up paper towel next to me, upon which I'd had a couple of pieces of toast?

Oh, don't mind me, just licking up a few crumbs and a faint trace of butter....

Just too Loose

I ripped the sock. Feh! I need to knit sock yarn on 00s, clearly. This is unfortunate, since I only have slippery steel 00s and my online search has not netted me anything but steel, on the rare sites I found 00s at all. The 00s I have fell right out of the sock yarn. I'll go over to my LYS on the weekend and see if they have any non-metal needles smaller than a 0.

I grabbed some already-wound-into-a-cake deep green Koigu and will try this on the plastic-over-metal 0s I have.

I can't believe some people knit socks on 1s! I wish I could tighten up my natural gauge.

Sockage

Well, I'm onto the foot of my getting-reacquainted-with-sock-knitting sock, and I'm finding as usual that it's too baggy. The heel fits well, though. But this seems to mean I have to knit the whole freaking sock on 00s, and that even a Koigu sock will have to be knit on 0s.

The small parts of my body would be my ankles and heels, wouldn't they? I wish my jawline or hips or chest would have gotten the same message!

I wish

I don't know if it's because I was never close to my father, or because I have no parents at all now, or I'm just a wimp, but there are some men I wish I knew (as a list of examples) -- some real, some fictional. I always feel like they'd be able to give me good advice and/or engineer practical solutions. (Yes, I know "one of these things is not like the other"!)

Anyone know anybody like that?

Sad Puppy

I was sitting outside on my morning break and heard a dog barking. And barking. And barking. And crying. Finally I closed my book and walked toward the noise.

Someone in the parking lot next door had tied up a golden lab puppy to their truck. (I later emailed someone in that building to see if they could get the guy to check on the dog.) At first I was hesitant, but this pup was well-fed, well-groomed, adorable, and thrilled beyond belief that someone had to come to see him. He jumped, he panted, he sat on my foot and leaned against me, his tail wagging frantically. I would have stayed there all morning if I could have.

Poor baby. He began to bark and whine again as I left. At least he was in the shade, and he certainly didn't look maltreated at all. He was just a friendly pup who wanted his dad, or some kind of company anyway. I hope he's not there tomorrow!

St. Genevieve

One of my patron saints -- just found possibly the longest article I've ever seen on her!

They have the accent in the wrong place, though. And yes, I do put the accent on it and pronounce it the French way. It was my grandmother's name and she pronounced it the English way, but I'm just... ornery that way. ;-)

Grrr.

Stupid, stupid gusset.

There's a hole, and I did something too long to explain that had me on 4 DPNs where there should have been 3. Don't even ask.

However, I fudged and wrangled and grumbled, and I think it will be OK. I will just darn the hole.

I think the next pair will be in Koigu, which is at least a bit thicker and I can probably get away with 1s.

*~*~*~*~*

I didn't go out today, and I should have. I cleaned up the dishes from last night, and made dinner, and changed the sheets, straightened up, sock-wrangled, had a bath, watched some CSI, and read a bit. But I should always make a point of getting out of the house. I used to go to a Starbucks with a big patio after Mass on Sundays, and I think I may start that again next week.

I just feel out of sorts.


*~*~*~*~*

And sort of melancholy, in a way hard to describe. It's hard to miss what you haven't had, but I do. And that's about all I can say about that.

I've never liked Sunday nights. Sundays have always felt like a squished in-between sort of day, jammed between the freedom of Saturday and the drudgery of Monday, and Sunday nights have historically been full of dread for me -- first, as a kid, I always felt I'd forgotten something for school the next day. As an adult, just the yoke of work settling back round my shoulders.

I was saying to one of my math-and-science-guy friends today that I envied him his variations and freedom in work, that I'm a sprinter but my job is a marathon, and I told him what I said the other day -- next life, I'm coming back as a math and science guy.

Must. Cheer. Up.

Yarn Lust

I've been looking at knitting patterns and yarns online just now, and I feel my desire to get back to the knitting and actually conquer some things returning.

My two main knitting problems are a) I don't know any knitters in real life so I have no one to show me anything or to ask anything of and b) somehow, I space out and make mistakes all the time, even if I think I'm paying attention. I've actually found that unless it's garter stitch, or stockinette in the round, I can't do anything but knit when I knit. Or I will find myself one stitch over or under at the end of a row, or I will look back and see that I missed a cable turn two times back.

Also, I can't rip, only tink, and if the tinking involves knit-together stitches or cables or anything, I am likely to screw that up too. I think this is definitely where a hands-on knitting mentor would come in handy.

But my plan of knitting up all my patterned sock yarns in my plain sock pattern seems a good start. That should keep me busy for quite awhile. Maybe I'll make a concerted effort to find someone to knit with, though.

Recovering

The dinner party went all right. It wasn't up the standards of one of the guests, at whose fantabulous dinners I have been a guest several times. But my apartment is smaller and older, my kitchen is smaller and gives right onto the (smaller) table, and I'm waaaaay out of practice. At one point, deep in conversation, someone got up and got his own wine, which made me feel bad. But it all was edible (except I didn't take the brownies out of the fridge early enough -- if they're at room temp, the frosting is like a soft glaze, so I keep them in the fridge but should have removed them for a little bit so the brownie itself softened).

We discussed our new cathedral. I've not yet been inside but I passionately hate the outside, and everything I've seen of the interior so far makes me shudder. I think it's partially my belief that a church should look like a church, not an art gallery or office building or gym, and partially my reaction to growing up Protestant. One of the things I envied my Catholic friends, and one of the things I want as a Catholic, is churches that are glorious -- carvings and stained glass and statues, flying buttresses and arches and domes. (Even my parish church basically has all these things.) Anything that is remotely of the sleek-blonde-wood/Swedish-modern/understated-and-bare Protestant architectural ethos makes me want to run shrieking.

I've also had more than one person ask me, "That's not a Catholic church, is it?" I don't think the plain cross, not a crucifix, outside, or calling it "Christ the Light" helped with that either. Sigh.

However, I've been counselled to go and look at the interior at least once, so I can make up my mind in person and not just from pictures and the bizarre, Rollo-shaped exterior.

Me, opinionated? Nah.

I do realize that people who are perfectly happy with modern architecture, or show up to Mass in sweats, or whatever, are almost all (maybe all) much better people than I am. That keeps me from going completely off the rails in protest.

I've done most of the dishes this morning. I went to the 5 PM Mass yesterday so all I'd have to do today is dishes!

I find I need to psychologically unwind after highly social occasions. I'm a natural introvert -- very introverted -- and so I need to really amp myself up for things like this. Amping down later takes awhile. It was hard to get to sleep last night.

Definitely getting back on the healthy-eating bandwagon, starting right now. I'm sure I've gained back a few pounds, and so I will regroup. I'm trying to live in moderation, not going to one food extreme or the other. It's hard. But I think having eaten quite a bit yesterday has tamped down that overriding ravenous feeling of last week. I do believe I need more protein in my daily diet; most of the things I've been craving and that make me feel better are high in protein.

Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to eat cheese. ;-)

Later today I'll turn the heel of my sock... and then the damned gusset. I always need my Ott-Lite and a magnifying glass to pick up the gusset stitches, and I still always have holes. I'm hoping the fact that the heel and gusset are being knitted on such tiny needles will help with the hole issue. Although I just go in and basically darn the holes later and call it good.

Also trying to keep in mind what I was thinking a week ago. I don't want to lose those realizations and fall right back into my normal way of thinking, because that's always left me sad and bereft and... not doing anything.

Mystery

How you can miss someone who's never really been there.

Heel, Chess, Dinner

I'm up to the turning point of the heel, and I think I will leave it for tomorrow, when I will have basically a lovely stretch of solitude and quiet. Not that turning a heel is rocket science, even for me, but I do have to pay attention, and I like to get it all done in one go.

I think I'm going to use this very basic sock pattern to knit up all of my multicolored sock yarn. By that point I should have the hang of it enough to use my solid yarn for something more interesting. I've made socks before, but slowly, and not in quick succession. I need to make it all sort of second nature.

I was looking at online chess sites. I used to play chess with my mom when I was in middle school, but haven't played in nearly 30 years. I think it would be good for my brain, and also it would be cool to find someone to play with in person, although I'd like to do a lot of practice against a computer first. I do have a chess set in the closet, so it would be doable.

Tonight I'm having folks over for dinner around 7. I'm a bit stressed, because I haven't done this in awhile, but I'm sure it will be fine. Especially after a few glasses of wine. :-) In a couple of weeks I'm supposed to be having just one friend over for dinner (fewer nerves for that!) and I'll be feeding him Nigella Lawson's coq a reisling. Tonight's dinner, though, is a pre-marinated pork roast from Nob Hill. I'm cheating.

Still Hungry/Labor of Love/Terseness

I am still really hungry. There was crap at work today and I could not resist. And I noshed when I got home. And I made espresso brownies for a dinner party tomorrow night ... and licked the bowl.

Sigh.

I'm sloooooowly working on the heel of a sock. (Originally and inexplicably typed as "the hell of a sick.") I actually like the pre-heel-turning part of the heel, although I've been accidentally adding and subtracting the 32nd stitch over and over. Oh well, they're for me, probably bed socks, and just to get myself going again, so I'm not too worried.

I'm knitting them in your basic sock weight wool on 0's, with the heel done in 00's because I have a small heel compared to my wide foot. We'll see how it goes. Heretofore the socks I've made have slipped down over my heel, one of the very few dainty parts of me.

If I were to build my ideal guy, one of his traits would be reading and writing decent-length emails. I just got told by someone "no more long-ass emails," even though the emails in question were very short by my standards. That was one of my ex-husband's good traits -- a literate, eloquent, lengthy emailer.

Few and far between, in my experience. I'm lucky if the guys in my life read, let alone respond to (at any length whatsoever) my emails.

Hungry

Things have not been going so well, healthful-eating-wise. It's not because some boy has thrown me off my game, or because work is depressing me, or I'm otherwised stressed or unhappy.

It's because I'm hungry.

Yes, I do eat for entertainment sometimes and I tend to love things that are not low-cal/carb -- cheese (!!), chocolate, bread. But besides that, I simply have a large appetite. I can do the European-style, reasonable-amount-of-food eating for a time, and then my hunger comes roaring back. And during the work day, this is very difficult. As may have become apparent, I am not cut out for sitting in a cube all day, but I do. When sitting in said cube, if ravenous hunger overwhelms me, I am screwed. I get headachy, my stomach growls and aches emptily, and all I can think about is food.

Because I'm at work, I can't distract myself with something pleasant. I do bring things to snack on, but a Tupperware of carrots and radishes chased by a piece of fruit, while good, are mere drops in the ocean of my hunger. I would need a pound of vegetables and four or five pieces of fruit to satisfy me.

Sigh.

Tonight I had a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. I had never made one -- really. I have not had one at home since my ex-husband lived here; he used to make them on the George Foreman grill, with American cheese. I used a pan and cheddar. It wasn't The Quintessential White Trash Comfort Food, but it was good. Although bad for me. And I could have eaten five of them... but I only had the one.

I am way over my calories for the day, and I'm still hungry.

At least now I can just go to bed!

K, no

6:15 isn't happening. Why on earth would I think it would? I know when I have to get out of bed. And I don't get out before then.

Last night was the first night since spring where I've had to sleep with my feet on a hot water bottle. And in the gloominess of 6:15, I was staying snug in bed, thankyouverymuch. I will have my creative dawdling time in the evenings.

Sleepy but Hopeful

I can't wait til we fall back... it's so hard to rouse myself in the mornings when it's dark! And I'm going to start getting up at 6:15 to have some quiet thinking time before work. If I can force myself up, that is.

I had dinner over the weekend with a friend who is making me think. This was not his intention; it just worked out that way. He's got the guy thing going, where he just goes through life doing things he finds interesting and rewarding without worrying overmuch about who thinks what of him, or being lonely, or the like. Though I know other people like him, our conversation triggered something in me. I mentioned a bit of this in an earlier post.

I'm 41. I'm not going to get any younger (thank you, Captain Obvious, I know). I may or may not spend the rest of my life without a significant other. I can't sit around and wait anymore for some mythical future in which I'm going to be happy.

Lest you think I am now Pollyanna and I am bubbling over with frothy enthusiasm... fret not. I don't think I will ever lose the sarcastic gene, and a certain pessimism is ingrained in me by now, if indeed it wasn't built in. However, I'm making a real list of things I want to accomplish (ones that have nothing to do with guys or love or things like that); I am not letting emotional disequilibrium boot me off the wise-diet-and-exercise regimen I've been on for a couple of months, at least not more than temporarily; I'm actually sitting down and writing every night on the novella-that-may-suck-but-is-mine. I am thinking seriously about how I could not spend my days at a job that gives me hives on my soul, and of ways to get my brain back into high gear, even though I can't afford grad school.

I think it's going to be about an eighteen-month process, and I am plotting it out. Right now with the US economy imploding around us, I know there won't be much in the way of professional movement. But when the time is right, I want to have a game plan. I won't be out of debt for four years, barring the lottery or a miracle, but even in the interim, I am working on building a life that is good.

For now, I am going to curl up with the cats and go to sleep, because 6:15 is somehow a whole helluva lot earlier than 6:40!

Argh

On the one hand, we have the sort of place I work in, where we're treated like remedial juvenile delinquents.

On the other, I get to talk to friends of mine (math-and-science guys) whose jobs include travel, autonomy, lots of money, flexible hours, and interesting work.

I want a do-over. I want to come back as a math-and-science guy.

Sunday Ruminations

I'm feeling reflective and that's not always so good, you know?

I've often felt in-between. It's like how I'm too tall for the average-length pants and too short for the talls. When I went to college, I didn't have enough money to pay for it but wasn't poor enough to get great financial aid. I'm too bookish for a lot of people but not smart or educated enough for the really brilliant. I'm a homebody who loves to cook but would give her right arm to travel the world. I'm too heavy for those who fancy slim women but too small for those who really like big women. I'm very shy but can talk your ear off.

If astrology meant anything I'd say it's because I'm a Gemini on the cusp of Cancer. Talk about two diametrically opposed signs.

I suppose in some ways all this might make me somewhat interesting to some folks, but it's not really a comfortable position to be in. As I get older I'm finding that I care about it less, but that doesn't mean I don't care about it at all.

I think, too, that my life is duller than I'd like it to be, not because I'm dull necessarily, but because of funds in some cases and lack of companions in others. I want to go camping again but there really isn't anyone to go with -- well, one friend, but he won't sleep outside. :) At least it would be a compromise to go at all, though. I want to spend six weeks in Europe but have neither the money nor the vacation time. And though I live in an interesting area, I don't want to be doing everything on my own.

If I had not been born and raised here, I wonder what things I'd take advantage of that I don't even think about because I've always lived here.

Talking with a male friend the other day, I realized again how guys I know (more often than women, though I do know women like this as well) are much more successful at being self-contained, complete in themselves. Or passably complete, anyway; we're all interdependent, social creatures to some extent. [Warning: sweeping overgeneralization coming.] They're happier, though, going about their lives on their own, pursuing their interests, and finding life meaningful even without someone to share it with.

The last couple of years I've really been trying to "be me for me," not be the me someone else might like. It's hard, though, when you're conditioned otherwise and have been at it for forty years or so.

Minor Victory

I bought new jeans today. For normal-sized folks, this isn't going to seem too exciting, but for me...

I bought size 22 jeans because my 24s were way too big. The store was having a sale and so they had very few jeans of any size. I did fit into a pair of size 20s in a different style, but I preferred the ankle slits on the 22s and just generally their cut. Still -- I fit into the 20s! I've been known to wear 28s.

Although, mostly, on top. I also bought a stretchy knit henley and it's a 22-24. I think when all is said and done, I will be a 16-18 on the bottom and anywhere from an 18 to a 22 on top. Even now you can see something of an hourglass figure (I have always had a very small waist for whatever size I was), but I will always have a chest to contend with.

I don't think this is too much of a problem except if I were to try to buy a dress (which I rarely do), because anything that fit over my chest would be too loose below. Or, I suppose, if my bottom half fit into clothes from any store but my top half could only be accommodated by a plus-sized purveyor.

Ah well. It will be a problem I will be happy to have!

Democat

Because I'm Forgetful

I have been known to have garlic with lovely green shoots, and onions that are trying to root in the cupboard, because I forget they're there.

My recent solution was to bring out this cute bowl out from the china cabinet, put the garlic, onions, and shallots in it and leave it on the counter. (I shoved everything to the side so the milk-drinking kitty would be visible.)

So far, so good.

Tonight for dinner I made this zucchini recipe. (Which features none of the bowl occupants, I realize.) I Microplaned the cheese because I don't have a cheese slicer that will make good shavings, but otherwise followed the instructions. Yum.

Somewhere, my mom is shaking her head and saying, "She's making... zucchini ... for dinner? Just zucchini?" My poor veggie-loving mom was stuck with me, who loved (and loves) chicken, cheese, and bread, and my dad, who loved beef and potatoes and the like. Two of the traits my dad and I had in common were not liking vegetables and liking our meat well done, both of which pained her. Now I don't eat beef at all (doesn't agree with me) and I actually like quite a few vegetables. I will say that if I'm going to eat veggies plain, I generally prefer them raw (if they're edible that way at all). Cooked, I like some butter or cheese or at least salt and pepper.

I need to straighten up round here, change the sheets (although I will have to dislodge one sleeping kitty to strip the bed and then fight the other, "helping," one in order to remake it), hang up clothes, and such. It's been quite hot (for us) today and I made two batches of kiwi jam in the heat of the day. (Yeah, I know.) I'm waiting for it to cool down and for me to get my second wind in order to get to the housework.

Yep, that's my Saturday night!

15 Pounds Gone

So awhile back I read about Spark People on Catherine's blog. I'm not exactly sure what I weighed at the time, because I didn't have a scale until about ten days after I started, but from the weight I was when the scale arrived, I've lost nearly 15 pounds -- fourteen point something or other.

A few weeks ago I had a really bad Thursday that I've alluded to earlier, and I lost some of my steam. I didn't walk every day at lunch, and I wasn't as good about keeping track of what I ate. But I didn't go wildly astray, and I've still lost a few pounds.

I think it's a really good system for keeping you honest. And although I don't intend to be a religious fanatic about it (if you think I will never again eat until I feel like stopping, forget it), I do intend to be watchful and thoughtful about it most of the time.

My goal weight is one that would still have me being considered quite overweight, I imagine, but I haven't been that weight since I was in my very early 20s. I think I can live at that weight -- it's the untrue number on my driver's license -- and quite frankly, even if I could be happy eating as little as I'd have to to be 130 pounds, I don't have the wherewithal to have the surgery I'd need to get rid of loose skin, etc. And I can already see that my face will age -- it's going to be a tradeoff. My face is quite narrow and long, and the extra weight really shows on it, much more so than if my bone structure were different. I'm sure it will look better with less fat on it, but I know the tradeoff is going to be a bit of a drawn look. So I'm aiming for a weight that is 80 pounds lighter than my approximate starting weight, and we'll see.

So Now It's Summer

It's going to be 90 degrees here today. Sigh!

I have ten kiwis sitting on my counter waiting to be turned into jam, and I have to do it today. I have a feeling a large number of fans are going to be involved.

Rosary-Inspired Question

Every time I say the Joyful Mysteries, and I get to the Finding in the Temple, I think, "Um, Mary? Joseph? Why are you so confused? Do you not remember the events surrounding the birth of your son? Angelic visitors, virgin birth, all those things? Remember Simeon at the Temple at the Presentation? How come you're acting all of a sudden like this is just your average first-century Palestinian kid who's run off to get into mischief?"

Not to be direspectful or anything, but I'm confused by their confusion.

When Does "Young" End?

I'm in my very early forties.

People generally think I'm between 30-35; I have about six grey hairs, few wrinkles, and this is apparently one area where being not-thin comes in handy -- keeps you from looking drawn.

I don't feel terribly different from when I was in my early twenties. This is good and not good. I've only gotten marginally more stoic as time has gone on. However, except in a few cases where I was always curmudgeonly, I'm pretty much as open and flexible about things as I always was. (My curmudgeonly spots will show as time goes on, but here's an example: I hate hearing English butchered by native speakers who have no learning disabilities to explain it. Always have. But that's because I've been in love with language since I learned to read as a toddler.)

Anyway, I was just looking at the Faithful Citizenship site from the US Conference of Catholic Bishops. There's a section for Young Catholics, and I was drawn to it like I'm always drawn to things for "young adults." (Turns out it seems to have been meant for Catholics so young they can't vote, not the 18-24 sort of demographic I was expecting. But anyway.) Maybe it's because I'm unmarried and have no kids, so many of my life concerns are not the same as those of most of my contemporaries. I'd give my right arm to be back in school, which I always loved. I also have no fulfilling career and still somehow am looking for my way in life, although in the meantime I'm a productive member of society.

So in some ways my life is pretty much where it was at 25, except I've been married, I've added about six or seven breakups, I make more money, I have no parents left, I've been to Hawaii and Paris, and I live alone instead of with a housemate. Oh, and I couldn't cook at all at 25.

It's funny, too. I've seen pictures of my 41-year-old father holding me as a baby. If I were to see a man today who looked like that, I'd put him way into his fifties. People just seem to age differently, carry themselves differently, project themselves differently, than they did forty years ago, whether they're married with kids or not.

So when does young end, anyway?

Hot, Hot, Hot

Originally published September 3, 2008

If I can't sit outside for my entire afternoon break reading, it's hot. Granted, I'm always hot inside, but outside I can usually deal.

Currently I'm reading Boom! by Tom Brokaw, which I got free in a mixup with a book club, but which I'm enjoying. I like biographies and quasi-biographies, because they just tell what happened; they don't need to service any convoluted plot. (Why I also like European/art films, when they're just slices of life, not plot-driven exercises.)

The plum cake turned out more like plum cobbler, but it was good and enjoyed by my coworkers, unless they lied. :) The plums were a bit tart but everything else was quite sweet, so it evened out, I thought.

I'm in a quandary about something with my parish. I agreed to be on a committee, but I'm thinking there's too much freeform chatting/socializing required for members of that committee. I can chat your ear off if a) I know you well and/or b) we're someplace together doing something else. But just standing around at coffee hour (and HOW I WISH we didn't have coffee hour after every Mass!), I feel like a wallflower at an eighth-grade dance. So I'm thinking of resigning, but I don't know whether that's being true to myself or just being a wimp.

Hmm.

My parish has some Jesuits who regularly preach there, and last week we had one of my very favorites. If I could just bottle his intellect and enthusiasm and take it around with me, I think I'd be OK!

I suspect he might find that an odd request...

Hot Night Baking

Originally published September 2, 2008

Twice. I made one and decided it was not sufficiently plumful. So I immediately made another and used up the rest of the plums. The original one, which will stay on my counter, was at least tasty. My plums were a little tart, so after I cut them I rolled them in turbinado sugar before I plunked them into the batter.

Not as pretty as this one, but good. I think it would have been much better if I'd had small plums to simply cut in half rather than big ones to cut into quarters, but this is what Whole Foods had yesterday.

(I like my background tea towel, too, bought here.)


Last night I was sitting on the edge of the bed on the computer and one of my cats was up against me, as she must always be in all weather (and as she is now). Her dainty paw position charmed me.

Her eyes are about the color of the darker blue on the quilt, but you rarely notice since her pupils actually appear to be round rather than elongated, and they often take up much of the blue. She's also very shy, unlike her boisterous (adopted) sister. My other cat will greet you (loudly) at the door, explain in detail the food situation and what you really ought to do about it, point out how what you did about it was rather insufficient, describe to you any bug or floaty thing in the apartment, tell you about her day (and complain if you were gone longer than she had anticipated) and, if you're male, she's likely to cuddle up to you and flirt.

They're both goofballs, but I love 'em.

I'm not really loving the hot weather, or the fact that my earphones appear to have died. Both of these things are keeping me from walking at lunch. It's all threatening to undo my five weeks of good diet and exercise. I've wobbled, but I can't let it pitch me off the straight and narrow altogether.

I'd been doing well, when within sixteen hours I had three personal upsetting incidents with three different important people. I kind of lost my steam. And then the heat, etc. But I need to pick myself up and keep going! I'm getting too old to keep screwing this up.

Patience is a Virtue

Said my dad all the time. I've not yet mastered this particular virtue.

However, by about 8:15, the jam was gelled. :-)

Originally published September 1, 2008

Kiwi Daquiri Jam

Originally published September 1, 2008

I can't seem to get the color right... it's a brighter, prettier green. :-)





What was left in my Dutch oven was quite yummy, and it was starting to gel. The canned stuff still seems pretty liquid, but I'm not going to worry til tomorrow night. I've reboiled and rejarred in the same evening before, and ended up with butter. Which is fine, but with only two pints, I can't screw around much here. It has a whole package of pectin in it, so it really should be fine. I know you're supposed to wait 24 hours to see the full gel. I just need to chill.

Recipe is here. I used bottled lime juice because it was cheaper (sad but true), and some spiced rum because I didn't have any and the friend I "borrowed" four tablespoons from had only the spiced variety. It seems like it didn't make much difference!

Yeah, Definitely

Originally published September 1, 2008

no fruit tart today. I slept in to a decadent hour and am now lazily blog-reading, enjoying the blue sky and the sunlight on the trees outside my window. Maybe later I'll make jam, maybe not.

Of course, being a night person, I may at seven o'clock decide to make some sort of baked good. It's happened more than once before!

Ah, Labor Day

Originally published September 1, 2008

One of those few-and-far-between days off. Hallelujah. The next one is, what, Thanksgiving?

I was going to make a fruit tart and take it to work on Tuesday, but I'm not feeling it. I don't think the fruits I'd want to use are going to be available (or very good) this time of year, and I don't really feel like the three-step process involved, and wondering how well it would keep overnight in the fridge. The only other one I've ever made was good, but was also assembled immediately before it was taken to a party. Also, not feeling very cheery about work as a whole and not so sure I want to knock myself out. I think I will just take some of the peach jam I made yesterday to a couple of friends on Tuesday and call it a day.

Or I might make this plum cake, which link I followed from her mother's blog. It looks yummy and far less fiddly.

Soon I'll make some spiced blueberry jam, which has the added appeal of being made from frozen berries. That will either be later today or next weekend. I'm supposed to be supplying my brother-in-law's jam needs for the fall and winter. I wonder how much jam one man can eat. We shall see; he's got about 12 pints now. I'd like to have a little left over. Although if I go through Mes Confitures, I can find things to make between now and spring, with a little tweaking.

I'm glad fall is coming. I'm a transitional-season kind of girl; spring is my favorite and fall is next. I think it partially has to do with being on an academic cycle in one's formative years. My heart still leaps in spring -- "Summer's coming! There's hope and freedom on the way!", even though I graduated from college eighteen years ago. (Good Lord.) And since I actually liked school (and miss it terribly), I was always excited to go back, especially in college, so the advent of fall also makes me happy for no current reason.

I've been thinking about life coaches. I wish I could afford one. I really do need an advisor, but Real Life (TM) doesn't provide them the way schools do. Even a therapist, which I also don't have, isn't there necessarily to give you step-by-step advice.

I've also been thinking about money. I believe that with enough of that, I wouldn't really need the life coach. I'd move to a pretty apartment not built in my lifetime and in which I never lived with my ex-husband. I'd try to make sure it had a gas stove and if it had a full-sized fridge and good water pressure, I'd be set. I'd quit the job I have now, get a happy part-time one, and go back to school. So it looks like I know what I want to do; I need to find the financial wherewithal to do it. Guess I still need some kind of advisor, no?

Ah well. For now, it's after midnight, and I'm going to curl up with a purring cat and sleep. When in doubt, grab a cat and snooze, that's what I always say.

All Over the (Virtual) Map... Literally

Originally posted August 31, 2008

So I started out having a knitting blog way back when, but honestly... I'm not that great a knitter. I think I'd be better if I knew some knitters in real life, and I'd like to be a great knitter, but I'm not. At the moment I am tussling with, I kid you not, a dishcloth and sock.

I also love to cook, bake, and make jam, but I'm no Clotilde. (Although, at the moment I have thick-cut pork chops and garlic in the oven and am looking forward to dinner.) And as I thought through my various interests and pastimes, I realized that although I love to write and often want to, and I miss the community I was a part of when I blogged before, I'm not laser-focused on any one thing.

I've always been a bit scattershot and a daydreamer. This is both a pleasant thing (it's harder to get bored and if I have a book with me I'm fine no matter where I am) and a detriment (I am very unhappy in a job that I just fell into, rather than having a career I enjoy and I have not managed to become a great {fill in the blank}).

Ed note: I am going to refrain from talking about my job as much as possible, both for reasons of justified paranoia and for the simple reason that once I walk out that door at the end of the day, I don't want to think about it again. I am hoping there will come a day when I have a job that doesn't fall under this edict o'silence.

So for now, I am simply going to write as the spirit moves me, about what intrigues or infuriates me on that day, and other than avoiding discussing work, I'm not going to constrain myself to any one topic. I think it will be more fun that way.