I'm Too Indecisive

In looking for my next big project to tackle, I've come across quite a few patterns I think are fabulous. I'm trying to narrow them down. I really can't figure which one I like most. Why don't you pick your favorite to help me narrow it down?

There is the Mrs. Darcy Cardigan pattern by Mary Weaver. It's a free pattern that will require a bit of math to convert to my size. Though I've not done this before, there is a lot of information on how to do this right in my own library of books. Thank you Ann Budd and Elizabeth Zimmerman. I wonder, do I love the sweater or is it the color? I think this color is beautiful.

I love this sweater too. It's the Simple Knitted Bodice by Stefanie Japel. I'd have to buy the pattern from Stitch Diva Studios but that isn't a problem. There is a short and a long sleeved version. I like both. This shade of green is probably my favorite color on the planet.


This is Stefanie Japel's pattern, Textured Tunic. I asked for this book, Fitted Knits, on my last Christmas wish list. I wanted it solely for this pattern. There are 25 stunning patterns in this book that I've considered knitting. I still love this one the most. When I opened the gift, given to me by my oldest daughter, she had put post-it notes on everything SHE wanted. This is one of them. The post-it on this one said "me likey." I don't blame her. Me likey too.

Two of these patterns appeal to me for that fabulous yellow shade. There is something they all have in common and that's the shaping and contrasting stitch work. I can't decide. I've narrowed down the yarn. Cascade 220 in light gold. I think.
I've put a poll on my sidebar. Please help a girl out and vote for your favorite. I'll knit the one with the most votes.

The Coolest Gift

I belong to a group of nurses who knit on Ravelry.  There is a question on that group that asks "what's the coolest work gift you've received?"  It's really a question of what is the best gift an employer has given but I interpret that question a bit differently.

When I'm treating an older patient, I ask many questions that aren't medical in the least.  I want to know what they did when they were young.  I'll ask what they did for a living.  I'll ask if they served in the war.  I'll ask about their families.  People want to talk and work their lives out.  Often, the end is approaching and they're questioning their value on earth; asking these questions allows them to talk about it and work things through.  I do hang around for the answers.  It helps that I'm truly interested and incredibly nosy.  I can't help it, people fascinate me.

I had one such patient in end stage heart failure about four years ago.  He was so sick and although I don't know what happened to him, I'm quite certain he isn't with us anymore.  His heart failure was so severe, I don't see how he would have lived more than six months from the time I met him.  I'd been pulled to another unit for the day.  One where people aren't on life support and therefore, they're able to talk.  I asked my patient if he'd served in WWII and his face lit up.  My patient had been a flyboy in the war and had served in the Pacific theater.  I'd just read James Bradley's newly released book, Flyboys: A True Story of Courage.  Although the book didn't make me an expert,  I knew a bit about these men and their service.  My patient was thrilled to talk about his life as a flyboy.  He was proud of this time he'd given to his country.  We spent a long time talking. 

A few weeks later, I received a package at work.  It was from my Flyboy.  There was a letter that was quite lengthy in which he thanked me for taking such good care of him.  There was  a video copy of a documentary about flyboys and he was featured in the documentary.  What an amazing life this man had lead!  He included a photo of himself, his fellow servicemen and a plane.  They were so handsome in that picture.

I think about this man every once in awhile.  On occasion, I come across the package he sent to me.  He was a gift that was sent my way by my employer.  I don't need anything extra for doing my job.  Placing me in the right place, at the right time, is gift enough.

True Confession: I don't like eggs.

Really. If it were up to me, I'd live without eggs. I don't like the flavor of them and I don't care too much for the look of them once cracked open. I can taste them no matter how you try to mask them in a dish. I know when an egg is inside. Eggy cookie dough? Ick. Same thing for egg drop soup. Egg salad sandwich? Oh my; no way! I don't care how much mustard you put in a deviled egg, I won't eat it. Egg whites are so slimy, I just can't get past those either. I never used to be like this. I used to enjoy eggs just like everyone else. I can't stand them anymore.

This isn't good, particularly when it comes to one of my favorite comfort foods on the planet: rice pudding. For years, I've played around trying to get rice pudding I think is perfect. It can't have eggs and it can't have raisins. There aren't too many recipes out there that don't have the incredible binding power of the egg. I've found the secret though. It's in the rice. Starchy, beautiful rice. Specifically, arborio rice.

Here is my recipe for creamy rice pudding.

In a stainless steel pan or the top of a double boiler combine the following:

1 1/2 cups arborio rice (any other rice will yield only rice soup)

12 cups (yes twelve) whole milk-this is dessert so whole milk is OK!!!

1 cup of sugar (whole milk is sweet enough)

1/2 teaspoon of salt

1 vanilla bean sliced lengthwise and scraped. Put scrapings in the pan along with both sides of the bean. (if you don't have a vanilla bean, you can put 1 tablespoon of real vanilla extract in but don't add it until you're done cooking. It's better with vanilla beans. If you're feeling adventurous, instead of vanilla, put a tablespoon of rose water in at the end of cooking for a totally different and surprising flavor. If you need rosewater, just go to any Arabic food store and you'll find it there.)

Turn on the heat and bring to boiling, cover and reduce heat to a simmer, stirring every 10-15 minutes (a labor of love) for an hour and a half. Remove the vanilla bean and pour rice mixture into a bowl. It'll be soupy but I promise, it'll set up. Lay plastic wrap directly on the rice so it doesn't form a skin. Refrigerate until icy cold.

When serving, drizzle with honey and crushed pistachio nuts or walnuts.

It's heavenly, trust me. And not an egg in sight.

Lost in Cyberspace

Knitting can be a time warp for serious practitioners of this ancient art form. It isn't just the physical act of knitting I'm talking about. Often, it's the preparation to knit an item that can have one saying, "gee, where did the time go?" The shopping, reading and thinking parts of planning a project can suck up a huge amount of time. This is not an inexpensive pastime I engage in and I want to spend my money well. With internet access, this time suck is worse. Way worse. I find something I like early in the morning and the next thing I know, it's time for bed. And I've not knit a thing. I've linked myself from one end of the planet to the next. The advent of Ravelry hasn't made this better, it's added to the knitter's continuum of time loss.

Still, I find time to read the things other people, including non-knitters write. I like words. Interesting words and good stories. One such storyteller is Laurie. Laurie writes some damn good yarns over at Three Dog Blog. If you don't believe me, go have a look-see. I won't be waiting for you though because I can guarantee you'll be lost in one of those time warps and I have knitting to do. I love her Mexico and Russian stories and can read them over and over. You know I like to laugh here and often; she can provide those laughs.

Laurie is writing a memoir. She has been delving into her past and writing about the journey. In one recent post, she wrote about how her brain "thrummed" while she was trying to rest. An interesting word that immediately clicked for me. I'd bookmarked a Yarn Harlot post about thrummed mittens. I've wanted to make thrummed mittens for awhile for Rachel. Rachel, who doesn't have enough going on, has Raynaud's Syndrome. Even in summer, if she catches a chill, her little hands and lips turn blue and feel icy cold to the touch. She can't tell me this is painful, but I know that it is. Thrummed. A perfect answer to the problem of Rachel's cold hands. Thank you Laurie for triggering that synapse to fire.

Yesterday, with my paw in time out, I went to Ewenique Knits to purchase some roving. This merino roving is amazingly soft. I don't think it was that expensive, but it's my first time working with roving. I will tell you, it was the rest of the "stuff" that fell into my shopping bag that was pricey. I left with one package of merino roving (silky soft and a cream color), three skeins of Cascade 220 for the mittens and three skeins of Louisa Harding 's Grace. I plan to make a brioche stitch scarf with Grace and some Rowan Kidsilk Haze I have that's just laying around the joint. Can you see how weak I am? I didn't need that new yarn. None of it. I needed only the roving. I have enough Cascade 220 to knit well into my next life. I didn't have any of the Louisa Harding yarn though and it is fabulous. This is all Laurie's fault.

By the way, I laid in bed last night and read chapter one of David Sedaris' new book (again) When You Are Engulfed in Flames and laughed until I cried. Damn, he is funny. Thank you David. Laughter really is the best medicine.

Knitter Down

Today is my best friend's birthday. I've been knitting like a fiend to finish what I started for her. A fiend. Since last Saturday, I've knit a sock and a half and now, I'm sitting here writing this one handed with an ice pack on my left hand.

I can't believe I have tendonitis. In my left hand. In the thumb joint where the thumb meets the hand. It's exquisitely tender. The onset was so abrupt that I was taken by complete surprise. I was fine and then I wasn't. It seems like an odd spot for a knitting related injury since all my left hand does is hold the needles. I use my right hand to knit. Well, I obviously use both because knitting would be near impossible one handed. As I've discovered.

This is where the injury resides. Just remove the pencil and insert a US size 2 knitting needle.

This is the Finklestein test for a particular type of thumb tendonitis. I think Finklestein was a sadist. And yes, I have a positive test. I think if there was audio to go with the video in that link, you may get a better idea of how painful this condition is right now.

I feel badly, but Fanette is going to get one sock for her gift today. Unfortunately, she has two feet and I have one sock completely done and the second is waiting to have the gusset stitches picked up. I wanted to start the project I bought the Seduce yarn for too and it looks like that will be on hold for awhile. At the very least, I wanted to swatch for that.

I've started my low tech healing process and I hope it hastens my recovery. I'm taking an anti-inflammatory medication around the clock. Once an hour, I go to the freezer and take out the bag of peas. I apply the bag to my thumb and let it sit until the peas thaw. I put the peas back in the freezer and wait for them to get icy cold again and repeat. I need to get an immobilizer to rest my thumb and my knitting needles are idle. Sniff.

How Well Do You Really Know Your Mate?

Last month, my bank instituted new online banking security features that require answering some personal questions.  I understand the need for security, I really do.  Is it too much to ask to make questions answerable to people who hold a joint account? 

I did not know the city of birth for my father in law.  I knew my mother in law's.  I have no idea which particular school my husband attended during a certain period of time in his academic career.  For the life of me, unless he is home, I can't access my bank account.  Dammit.

As an aside, someone I know told me banking security issues today that shocked me.  This is his field of specialty.  He says there were over 7 million attempts to hack into their system in June.  7,000,000.  That's a lotta zeroes.  He told me it's ok to use my debit card at a bank but nowhere else.  He advised using it only as a credit card at any merchant anywhere.  He was also describing how thieves (mainly organized crime) around the world steal your digits and passwords.  Holy Shit.  I really didn't have a clue-and maybe you don't either.  

I've never had it happen to me, but it has happened to my husband.  And now, I know how it all came about.  He used his debit card in Detroit and before you could say Bob's you uncle, the thieves had tried spending a boatload of money in 3 different cities at the same time.

So, I'll forgive my bank.  I'll have to grill my better half for the rest of the answers.  I think I may only be missing one.  Too bad for me, it's the one I need right now.  I can't believe that I don't know the answers after living with him for 21 years.

Once upon a time,

there was a lady I know who used to dress to the nines no matter what she was doing. If she was running out to the grocery store, it wasn't unheard of for her to be dressed in designer clothes. Her favorite designer was Dana Buchman. And friends, Dana isn't cheap. This lady, still has some Dana pieces hanging in her closet. Unfortunately, they're about 2 sizes too small.

To go with an outfit like the one above, the lady could often be seen sporting something flashy like this pair of Betsey Johnson shoes. Look how they glitter just so. Stunning. It's too bad only her daughter can wear shoes like these now.

The golden rule the lady abided by was to never leave the house without her face "done." She'd never dare to be seen without everything on her face "just so." Just so perfect. To go out without lipstick was akin to being naked in her mind. Back in the day, it wasn't the smokey eye so much as gaudy blue eyeshadow that was in style. If the lady still got gussied up like she used to, it's the smokey look she'd shoot for.

I don't know quite what happened to this lady. She has enough money to still play the game. I think she just lost heart. It could be, that shopping bags from yarn stores seem to come unabated to her door and the cost of yarn competes with her wardrobe budget. It's only yarn that catches the lady's eye now. Beautiful, soft yarn. Wooly goodness from all around the world. She can't quite put her finger on why she feels the way she does, but she is quite certain, she who has the most yarn wins. She isn't certain what she wins, but she sure likes playing this game.

The lady thinks that there may be a problem with not so subliminal advertising. In fact, she's dead certain that yarn manufacturers are using temptation to lure her and she has the proof. See. Now, that is some fancy marketing. It doesn't even have to be special (though it is), just name it Seduce and yarn hoarders will buy it.