I’m Not the Only One

I want you to know that I came by my adorableness naturally. I wasn’t the only cute kid in my family!

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My sister, for instance. Wasn’t she cute? (And that first grade picture is one of the very few of her with long hair. In fact, she’s had long hair in her life about as many times as I’ve had short hair.)

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Actually, one of my favorite pictures of my sister as a little girl? It’s this one. Now, this picture is ostensibly a picture of my first meeting with my grandfather, but see that little girl on the couch in the background?

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… Just sitting there, with her doll, happily swinging her legs in her cute little Mary Janes. Not to mention wearing a jaunty little beret (and if you knew how much my sister hates wearing hats, well, this IS an exciting moment captured on film). I just love the look on her face, and how happy she looks, even though she’s not the one getting attention–which, considering she was only 2 1/2 is pretty impressive.

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And, well, Mom and Dad were pretty darn adorable, too, so it’s easy to see where we got our cuteness.

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My niece and nephew were pretty darn adorable, too. Wasn’t it nice of my sister and brother-in-law to pass it on to the next generation?

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And our four-legged members have all been adorable, too. This is Muppy, our first dog. This was before we brought her home, so she’s probably about 5 weeks old in this picture, from 1977. (And, that Boykin Spaniel sprawled on the chair with my nephew, by the way, is Katy, not Chappy.)

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Chappy, of course, is sitting here trying to figure out–if I wanted pictures of CUTE, why, oh why, am I not taking pictures of HIM?

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I tried to explain the nostalgia thing…

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And, oh yes, here I go on the border!

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All the petals are sewn down and we (the afghan and I) are ready for the next stage. Let’s just hope that (1) my hand-made border cable chart looks as good as I hope it will and (2) that I can get it knitted onto the afghan as seamlessly and neatly as I hope to, without messing up the gauge or making it “ruffle” or anything else…

Iron Maiden

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Ah, the Iron Maiden. The object is to get the ring off.

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Well-Romped

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Doesn’t this look like a well-romped yard? Chappy has certainly tried to get paw prints just about everywhere!

I think today was the last play day in the snow, though … it depends on tomorrow’s weather, of course, but some spots are almost tramped down to grass now, and if it warms up even a little, it’s going to be muddy … so, no more romping. He has absolutely loved it, though. I swear, his tail not only doesn’t stop, it doesn’t even slow down while he’s out there.

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I had the munchies after dinner tonight, but there really wasn’t anything in the kitchen to snack on. Cake is really my favorite thing, or homemade bread or muffins–I can’t eat ice cream because of the asthma, don’t love the salty chip thing (or at least, not all the time), but, well … I wanted something sweet. So, I did this. Took two shortbread cookies out of the draw. Added a spoonful of raspberry sauce. (That’s pureed frozen raspberries with the seeds strained out.) A tiny bit of vanilla ice cream. A drizzle of Hershey’s syrup. A couple chocolate chips, and a dab of whipped cream. It doesn’t have enough ice cream to be a Sundae. Dad called it a Saturday.

Tasty, too! But naturally I had to come back upstairs to get my camera.

Now, speaking of romping. One of the Ravelers in the MVFF group (whose brand-new blog is here) has the cutest ravatar–a picture of herself from first grade. Well, obviously we’re close in age because her picture reminds me of myself at the same age.

030409_008 This was my first grade picture. My hair was already getting dark, and my bangs are too short … but it’s funny. Looking at it, I have to tell you that I get that exact expression on my face a lot. It’s an awful lot of brown, though, huh? But then, this would have been 1972, so, I suppose that’s to be expected.

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Then there’s this one. I think I was 4 in this picture. It was on a day (I think?) when my older sister was getting her school pictures taken so, since I wanted MINE taken but wasn’t in school yet, Mom took me to a local department store for it. I was SO excited. I still remember waking up early and getting dressed in my best dress and sitting VERY STILL while I waited for Mom to (finally) wake up and for us all to have breakfast so we could GO already… Needless to say, we were the first ones at the store, and the photographer started his spiel to coax me to smile, and I didn’t need any encouragement at ALL. I still remember it so clearly, I was so darn happy. So … this would have been about 1970.

But then, speaking of dresses I loved when I was little…

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This dress. I adored this dress. Now, when I was little, I was convinced that I had been a pilgrim in an earlier life. You know, like the ones that sailed on the Mayflower. And in the early 1970s, this dress was about as close to a “pilgrim” dress as I could manage. And no, you don’t have to tell me–it looks like nothing a Puritan would be caught flying to the gates of hell wearing, but I was 5. I didn’t have a lot of options, and it had the wide collar, so I was happy. (This picture, incidentally, was of the first day of school and luckily Mom snapped this one, because when the bus came, all she got was a picture of my shoe as I ran onto the bus. No teary goodbyes for me! I couldn’t wait.)

But, back to the dress. I called it my Pilgrim dress, and when I wore it, tried my very best to be as “Pilgrim” as possible. So, when I wore it for my Kindergarten school picture…

030409_009 I brushed my bangs flat with a part and sat resolutely with this tiny, prim little smile, no matter how hard the school’s photographer tried to get me to smile. Mom almost killed me when we got the proofs. (“What did you do to your hair? Why didn’t you smile?”) She admits NOW, though, that it’s a great picture, because it’s ME. My stubborn Pilgrim-ness right there for all the world to see. (And, honestly, it took great stubbornness to not smile for the photographer. Obviously, I was not camera shy, huh?)

How about showing YOUR school pictures from first grade? I bet you were ADORABLE!

Consider it a meme, if you like!

Petals

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Yep, the petals are starting to look like petals!

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I’ve got all the petals knitted and am stitching them down … don’t they look pretty all unfurled?

I got through 10 of them tonight, so that means it should take me about another hour to do the other 10 (though they’re smaller).

Then, I really HAVE to have a plan for the border. I’d better open up that Excel sheet again and really decide if that’s what I want to do … and how I plan to deal with the corners.

For the record, the afghan up to this point has taken just over 12 skeins of yarn. (Victor Bollicine, if you’ve forgotten.) I had to start the 13th skein for the last couple of petals. I’m enjoying the yarn, too, even if it has a tendency to split. Since I’ve got 17.8 skeins to go, I’m really NOT worried at this point about running out of yarn.

For that matter, I’m enjoying the AFGHAN, and it’s not even done yet! With the petals especially, it’s just easier to have it spread out over my lap while I work, and I’m finding myself, at the end of knitting each night, happily sitting there, snuggled under the blanket, all warm and toasty.

Yep. This is definitely going to get some use. And did I tell you Chappy’s lobbying for a small version for his crate? He really did like this!

Speaking of Chappy, he’s delighted because we had snow yesterday. About 6-7″ of the light and fluffy stuff, so he finally had a chance to go in the backyard and really romp. Of course, by the time I got home from work yesterday, it had all compressed. When I went out for the newspaper yesterday morning, the snow was even with my boot-tops, but it was only about knee-deep on Chappy while playing. And he LOVED it, even though we didn’t stay out there for very long.

Our office was a ghost town yesterday, and I was the only female who made it in on time and under her own power–no other women drove in at ALL  before 11:00, and then it was only two of them. And I think there were only three or four of us who were there for a full day’s work. Kind of pathetic, really, when you consider that just about all of our snow was on the ground when I got up in the morning.

But, anyway, I was tired by the time I got home, but I couldn’t disappoint Chappy after he’d waited all winter for a chance to play in Real Snow, so we went outside … but not for long. It was COLD! I took him out at lunchtime today, when at least there was sunshine, and now we’re both tired … it’s amazing/depressing at how quickly just a few minutes of playtime can tire you out.

My Stock Pot is Tired

Not only did I have my stock pot on the stove all night long with the bones from last night’s roast chicken, but I kept it busy all day today, too.

It occurred to me the other day that it’s been literally years since I made Vegetable Soup, and considering I’ve been on a soup kick lately, that clearly just had to change.

Now, my vegetable soup is always made from scratch and it’s almost entirely waste free, so that I use just about every part of the vegetables. It makes me feel thrifty. (We’ll ignore the part where Dad walked into the kitchen and–being a salad-lover–said, “Are you going to ruin all those vegetables?” Um, yes, Dad, I DO plan on cooking them, that’s how you make soup.)

030109_0032 Start by assembling the ingredients. Onion, celery, carrots, bell pepper, garlic, cabbage, canned tomato, green beans, baby spinach, ginger root.

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To start with, I wash all the vegetables. Then, as I’m starting to slice, dice, peel all of them to put into the soup, all the parts I might normally throw away–the peels, the root ends, the onion peel, the outer leaves of the cabbage, the bell pepper core, all that stuff–I toss into a pot of water on the stove. This boils into a darn good vegetable stock that’s ready to use by the time I’ve got everything else in my soup pot.

030109_0043 Then, in a large pot, I heat a little vegetable oil and add the three classics: onion, celery, and carrots. (And, this time around, a little green pepper.)

030109_0038 Add some finely chopped green cabbage and let that cook down until it’s soft. Then add the green beans, the contents of two large cans of crushed tomatoes, and two peeled and diced potatoes. Also some red kidney beans and some corn. (I love corn in soup.) (I also decided at the last minute NOT to use the baby spinach.)

030109_0045 By now, the vegetable stock is ready. The vegetables have given their all, and I’ve got about 3 quarts of nicely flavored liquid to add to my soup. (These odds and ends, alas, are now destined for the garbage. They can only stave off the inevitable for so long.) I added about 2 quarts to my soup pot and saved another four cups for some other use.

030109_0047 Some seasonings. Basil, oregano, marjoram. Salt and pepper. A dash of allspice. A few bay leaves. (I love bay leaves.) And a dash of Worcestershire sauce.

030109_0050 And noodles, of course. The only non-vegetable ingredient (other than salt). Because I grew up on Campbells soup, this is really the only possible noodle.

030109_0052 Mmmm … served with a little parmesan cheese on top. Delicious!

030109_0063 The tricky part? Finding room in the freezer for all the rest…

Otherwise, we’re supposed to get socked by snow in the next 24 hours, so we’ll see how that goes. We’ve got plenty of soup, though!

Books Read in February 2009

Here’s what I read in February. A good and varied reading month!

1. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer & Anne Barrows (277 p.) Such a charming little book, I liked this one so much! An epistolary novel taking place in England just after WWII. The main character strikes up a correspondence with a man on the island of Guernsey, who tells stories about the Nazi occupation, and gets the other members of the literary society to write, also. Loved this.

2. Run: A Novel by Ann Patchett (295 p.) Leaving a lecture on a snowy night, a car almost hits Tip, the adopted black son of the former mayor, but he’s pushed out of the way by a woman, who is hit in his place, leaving her 11-year old daughter to be taken care of by Tip and his family… but she and her mother may have been at that lecture for another reason…

3. Secret Lives by E.F. Benson (316 p.) Imagine a stuffy 1930s-ish London neighborhood, whose leading lady has a secret love of trashy novels … then a meek woman moves into the neighborhood, who obviously doesn’t “fit in,” but she has a secret, too … she’s a writer…

4. At Home in Mitford (The Mitford Years, Book 1) by Jan Karon (446 p.)
5. A Light in the Window (The Mitford Years, Book 2) by Jan Karon (411 p.)
6. These High, Green Hills (The Mitford Years, Book 3) by Jan Karon (333 p.)
7. Out to Canaan (The Mitford Years, Book 4) by Jan Karon (342 p.) Awfully sweet books, rather precious, but enjoyable in a “nothing really happens, but it’s a nice place to visit” kind of way. Father Tim is an Episcopalian priest in the remarkably devout little town of Mitford. Lots of praying, lots of laughs, and a lot of romantic angst when a children’s book author moves in next door. Enjoyable but, even though the series goes on for at least five more books, I’m content to stop here.

8. Once Upon a Day: A Novel by Lisa Tucker (340 p.) Imagine you’ve spent your entire life living in an isolated house, protected by absolutely anything that could harm you by your father, then your brother runs away to see the “outside.” And then your father gets sick … naturally, you’d have to venture into the world yourself to find your brother, and in doing so, face that maybe, just maybe, your father has been lying to you your entire life. Good book.

9. The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett (357 p.) All of Ann Patchett’s books are good, but this is the one I keep going back to most often. Love this. Sabine has only just buried her husband, the (gay) magicial, Parsifal, when she learns that the family he had always told her was dead was, in fact, alive and well in Minnesota…

10. The Intentional Spinner: A Holistic Approach to Making Yarn by Judith Mackenzie-McCuin (149 p.) One of the best books about spinning I think I’ve ever read.

11. Elegance by Kathleen Tessaro (319 p.) Frumpy Louise picks up this 1950 guide to elegant dressing and starts to transform herself … nice little chick-lit kind of book.

12. The World Is Flat 3.0: A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century by Thomas L. Friedman (635 p.) Fascinating book about all the ways the world is flat these days–what with electronics, satellites, computers, email, and everything else, we don’t just compete with our neighbors for jobs anymore, we compete with people all over the world … which is good for some, bad for others, but definitely a whole new ballgame for all of us!

13. Photography and the Art of Seeing: A Visual Perception Workshop for Film and Digital Photography by Freeman Patterson (154 p.) Photography book that tries to get you to look at things in a new way.

14. Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich by Alison Owings (476 p.) This is actually the oldest, unread book in my collection. I’ve had this for over 10 years and kept putting off reading it because it seemed like it was going to be so depressing. Well, it is, in a way, but it’s also fascinating. The author interviewed dozens of German women about their experiences during the Nazi years, hitting as wide a range of women and experiences as she could. Amazing but also very sobering. Glad it hung in there and waited for me to actually read it.

15. Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn (208 p.) Not only a fascinating idea for a book, but a technical writing masterpiece. Ella lives on a small island in the Atlantic devoted to Nollop, the man who penned “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” thereby using all 26 letters of the alphabet in a sentence with only 37 letters. But, one day, the Z falls from the memorial in the town center and the island government decides that means that they shouldn’t use the letter Z any more, so it’s banished. Then the Q falls. And the J. And … you get the idea. The technical challenges of writing this book are massive … how do you write letters (because the entire book is written via letters between characters), that don’t use an ever-growing assortment of forbidden letters? It’s a masterpiece AND, even better, a darned entertaining one at that. The creative spelling and vocabulary toward the end is laugh-out-loud funny (at least to me). Love this book.

16. A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby (333 p.) Suppose that, one New Year’s Eve, you decided to kill yourself and so climbed up to the top of a noted suicide spot, ready to jump … and found three other people planning to do the same thing? Well, it’s not really something you can do in a crowd, so maybe you’re all better off bonding together to try to figure out a way to stumble onward. This is a good book, good story, but with an excessive amount of bad language (which I’m just Puritan-American enough to find unnecessary). But, still, it’s an enjoyable book with a good ending.

17. I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak (357 p.) Now, suppose that you were in a bank being robbed by a particularly inept burglar, and that you helped capture him. And that, after that, you started getting cards in the mail with names or addresses of people who needed help … what would you do? This is really a fantastic book. It’s geared towards YA, according to the award it won, which surprises me a bit, with its language, violence and sex … all of which are present but not truly offensive … but the story is great.

18. History of Love by Nicole Krauss (255 p.) Such a delightful, quirky kind of novel. It’s beautifully written and yet unique. It tells the story of two people–Leo Gursky, a Polish Jew who lost his family in WWII and now lives alone in New York, and Alma, a young teenager whose father has recently died and whose mother gets a commission to translate the book, A History of Love, where Alma got her name … the entire last third of this book just makes me smile.

19. The Soloist by Mark Salzman (284 p.) This has been sitting, unread, on my shelf for ages, so I finally pulled it out. It was good and kept my interest, but I didn’t love it. Start with a cello teacher who was a child prodigy, but hasn’t been able to perform for years. Throw in a new, incredibly gifted student, and jury duty on a murder trial, mix, and see what you get. Aptly named because, ultimately, the man is on his own.

20. For the Love of Knitting, edited by Kari Cornell (160 p.) A lovely collection of essays, short stories, pictures (especially vintage pictures) all about knitting. Really sweet.

21. An Equal Music by Vikram Seth (381 p.) One book about classical music to another–this is about Michael, a member of a string quartet in London, who is still in love with a woman he hasn’t seen in 10 years. Music is vital to this book, starting with the little-known 5-part Opus 104 by Beethoven (which, luckily, is on the available soundtrack. Yes, a book with its own soundtrack!) It’s a melancholy kind of book, but beautiful.