The pattern....

....for the wristwarmers, if anyone's interested. This is a widely variable pattern for yarn weight and such, and of course is just one of the thousands of variants already out there, but still, here 'tis:

I used: Plymouth Yarn Baby Alpaca Grande, 1 skein in color 635 (a grayish blue) (~3 st/in)
Size 10 1/2 straight needles

CO 20 stitches using your favorite method (I used the knitting on method)
Row 1: K all st
Row 2: P1, K1 to end of row

Repeat rows 1 and 2 until the fabric is about 9 inches long, then COff on a pearl row, leaving a long tail. Fold the fabric in half lenghtwise and use the tail to sew down the seam, being sure to leave a hole for your thumb. You'll have a tube with a thumb hole, with the CO edge on your wrist and the Coff edge on your fingers. Weave in all ends, and enjoy the softness. Mmmmm soft.

Why Productivity is My Friend

Today was a productive day, with just the right amount of laziness. The morning started off with a sore shoulder, which was greeted by a backrub, a cup of coffee, and cereal in bed (!). This was followed by a fairly lazy morning while we waited for Jett to show up to take us out to le Outlet Mall. While we waited, I finished up an ipod cozy for Jett and wristwarmers for me--out of chunky baby alpaca, no less! I can now type without freezing my hands off in the process!

So then there was the adventure to le Outlet Mall. We had to get Ivan his weddings and funerals suit--most especially our wedding, but also the weddings of friends and family. So we hit the outlets. We found what we were looking for in Brooks Brothers and their sales and good deals and, voila! A new Ivan was born. 30 minutes later, we were on our way with suit, shirt, and a tie in tow. Now we just need shoes....and a belt....and shoes for me...and a caterer.....

Oh, but we DID pick a florist who is a really wonderful woman. She's totally psyched about using locally available stuff, and up for the challenge of "we're planning on having big huge platters of food in th emiddle of the tables--can you work around that?" and excited about "oh, I really like the twigs look, and the berries thing...it's going to be October, who wants flowers?"

Pledge Drives

Ok, I'm not a fan of that NPR institution, the pledge drive. I know it's necessary, I know it's how public radio works, but it's still a big huge interruption. I've already pledged what I can pledge for the year--let me listen to my news!

There are, however, moments of hilarity. Especially when Ira Glass and Gretchen Helfridge (spelling?) are involved. They are currently on the radio, music running behind them, cracking me up. I'm laughing at the (admittedly bad) jokes, sure, but mostly I'm laughing at the fact that these two people seem to be on some form of very special NPR high.

Or they belong in some sort of asylum for cracked NPR employees. Can you imagine it? There would be microphones everywhere, and Scott Simon would be arguing with Ira Glass about current US policy in Iraq. Ira would have a ukelele, Scott would be wearing bunny slippers: it would be fabulous.

THE Dress

I just bought my wedding dress. Off the rack. At Ann Taylor.

I'm really quite wedding illiterate. I also just received an invitation to a bridal shower for my cousin's wedding, and didn't realize that I needed to buy a gift even if I couldn't go. I knew that applied to the wedding itself, but didn't realize it applied to the bridal shower. Egads! No wonder I shrunk my wedding!

The Gourmand

After a rather disastrous experience with tilapia the other night, I decided to stick with nice, safe chicken last night. The results were lovely, and my attempt at a recipe is below. It's really flexible--just a general idea of what one could do....

Chicken for Two

Chicken:
1/2 pound boneless skinless chicken thighs or breasts
1 tsp pomegranate Molasses (available at the Spice House in Lincoln Park, or you could use a strong jam)
1 Tbs lemon juice
1 Tbs honey
3-4 Tbs Olive Oil
1 clove garlic
Salt and Pepper

Pound the chicken pieces until they're thin--about a 1/4 inch thick or so. Then marinate them in the other ingredients for at least 20 minutes (longer if you've got time). Then cook them--I used a grill pan, but you could broil or pan-fry if you want.

Sauce:
1/4 cup plain yoghurt
2-3 Tbs lemon juice
1 Tbs honey
1 tsp red peppercorns, crushed (again, the Spice House--these are wonderful)
1/4 tsp ginger
Pinch Salt

Whisk all the ingredients together, pour over the chicken and serve.

I served this with steamed broccoli last night, and it was really delicious. The sauce makes a good salad dressing, too.

I had an idea.....

It was a small idea, but it led to a big mess. The mess led to bigger ideas. Which, I fear, will lead to bigger messes.

The idea was to turn a sketchbook we had lying around the house into a 3 subject notebook with a felted wool cover and embroidered subject dividers. It turned out rather well, given the limited supplies I had on hand.

This one notebook, however, has led to other ideas, a whole art show full of them. You see, Ivan's parents own a gallery in Bellows Falls, VT, and his mom offered to let me have a show there. So now the idea for the show is taking form in my head: "Unfound Objects" is my favorite title. The idea is to do what I always do, that is to find cool stuff and use it in unfamiliar ways or to alter it in some way. Hence the altered notebook, the window hanging on my wall, the ornate frame around a flower vase, etc. I'm big into collage, too.

Anyway, this could be exciting. I have ideas for a mirror. I have ideas for knitted sculpture and knitted "painting." I have ideas for big, big messes.

The Freedom to Be Girly

I am a) done with grading papers and therefore b) free of graduate school for at least a year and also c) wearing pink nail polish on my toenails. That's right, folks, pink nail polish. K___ and her sister and I had a girly sleepover last night, without the sleepover part. There was good food, there was ice cream, there were facials and pedicures and manicures (my fingernails have never looked so well buffed). My mother would be both shocked and proud.

In other news, I have the opportunity to have an art show at I___'s parents' gallery. This means I need to have art to show--good thing I have the next month totally free!

Oh, and in other other news, I need to find a place to have a large potluck going-away type party sometime next month. Ideas, anyone?

Grading Papers: An Early Morning Aria

I am in the dying throes of the paper grading process for the quarter, down to the last few that I've hoarded as rewards for getting through the rest. Oh, and one that came in late. This batch was rather good, I must say, which made the whole process that much more enjoyable. But still there were the papers that made me rub my temples in that sort of futile gesture of, well, futility.

Really, I have nothing particularly interesting or witty to say about the whole thing, just that paper grading makes me grumpy. Which, of course, makes me no different than the rest of the grading folk out there.

Oh, there is one very nice reward for finishing these papers: I will officially be on a leave of absence once I do. I feel about 20 pounds lighter, my spine is straighter, and I'm reading a novel (Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides) purely for entertainment. That, my friends, is entirely worth the wait.

Chocolate Gnomes

If you don't have a chocolate gnome living in your house, you should. Ours is currently leaving Godiva truffles around the house at the rate of one a day, in places where I'm sure to find them--on my desk or, this morning, next to my alarm clock. I___ keeps threatening to trap the poor little thing, but I rather enjoy having him around. In fact, I'm hoping to convince him to come to Vermont with us, where he'll have access to these just across the river in Walpole, NH. Yum.

Check out THIS job....

This makes me so excited I could, um, jump up and down. Or compost vigorously. Or something.

"BuildingGreen, Inc., publisher of Environmental Building News and the GreenSpec Directory, is offering a ten-month internship beginning June, 2006 in Brattleboro, Vermont. BuildingGreen publishes authoritative information on sustainable building design and construction. Tasks may include categorizing past and current articles for online publication, verifying and updating GreenSpec product listings, adding case studies to high performance buildings database, and providing editorial support for EBN and general clerical activity. "

Weddings and Girliness

I am not a girly-girl. I have declared this myself and heard it declared by others. I was on a tent crew for a summer! I spent the summer covered in dirt and sweat and grease, being one of the boys (only I couldn't work topless--which meant one heck of a sports bra tan line). Sure, I'm a domesticated androgyne, but I've always been an androgyne to some extent. So why, now that I'm getting married, am I suddenly a girly-girl?

It all centers around the dress. I got a sample dress from a company recently, in a color that wasn't anywhere near white. I tried it on and....cried. It wasn't bridal, at all. I___ was very confused--his kick-ass fiancee who knows how to use a grip hoist was suddenly crying about a bundle of silk dupioni.

So now I've decided that I need to search for another dress, which means going dress shopping in Vermont with my mom, who will probably need tissues for the whole ordeal. Which is a position I never thought I'd find myself in--being a traditional bride, with a white dress and a crying mother. I never thought I'd have a "real" wedding. Then I got engaged, and discovered that I really wanted the flowers and the white dress and the vows and the etc. Weird.

Love and Marriage

I__ and I went to Michigan yesterday, to visit my grandparents. My grandmother recently had her 3rd stroke (2 mini strokes followed by this more major stroke), and is in a rehabilitation nursing home for the moment. As might be expected, she's in rough shape: she's really exhausted, unable to eat solid food, limited in her ability to walk and, most importantly, seemingly having some trouble getting her thoughts out of her head and into the world. She spent a lot of our visit staring at her hands, or (sweetly) staring at my hand intertwined with I___'s and smiling to see the two of us together.

I guess that's the part that stuck about the visit, the part I want to keep in mind as I__ and I move towards marriage and (groan) write our vows. My grandparents are in their 90s (!), and Grandpa still plays golf a couple times a week. They still kiss each other hello and goodbye, hold hands, and generally do their best to take care of each other. My grandfather seemed to be in storytelling mode yesterday, and he told us stories about the south side of Chicago in the 1920s and 30s, when he and Grandma grew up, lived, and fell in love. Apparently, they met through a church bowling league.

My thoughts are a little scrambled here, but basically I want to remember the thought that kept running through my head yesterday: I hope I___ and I are this lucky, this caring, and this loving when we're their age. It seems like a cliched sentiment, but I'm not sure that it is. After all, loving and supporting someone for the rest of my life seems like the biggest challenge I've ever faced.

So my brain is full of love and marriage and, generally, mush. So now I get to go grade papers on.....trauma. Um. Yeah.

Nurture Through Nature

Last night, spur of the moment, I ended up hosting a five person taco dinner. I was cooking tacos for I___ and I when people started showing up at my house and got folded in. I___ went to the store for more tortillas and avocados, we put more beef on the stove, opened a bottle of wine, and a dinner party was born.

After everyone had left, I turned to I___ and mentioned that "this" is what I do best. Feeding people, nurturing their souls, making them laugh while they eat. Then I laid awake most of the night plotting: a catering company? A cafe? A cafe/art studio/yarn shop?

In the meantime, the search for shelter and work in VT continues....

The Corner of Nowhere and Nowhere

The adventure continues.....

I was supposed to go meet circus people for dinner and drinks tonight, to celebrate the closing of their really fabulous show. I____ told me to go to the Daily Grill in Skokie and meet them there at 8. So, dutiful parter that I am, I got on the red line, then went outside to wait (in the damp) for the Skokie bus, which took about a half an hour to come. I get on said bus and am happy to be safe and warm and on my way to see friends and eat and drink and all those really wonderful things.

Buzzzzz.

The phone. Drat the phone. It's I____. "Um, I misread the sign. We're meeting at the Daily in Lincoln Square."

By now I'm at the corner of nowhere and nowhere, at a gas station with no convenience store and no phone books. So I stand in the cold, under an overhang at least, and watch the thunderstorms roll through as I____ calls a cab from his cell phone from his warm and cozy location in Lincoln Sqaure. They tell him, and he tells me, that a cab will be there in 20 minutes. 30 minutes go by, and no cab. Well, there was a cab, but it didn't look like it was for me, and it looked very off duty. I___ calls the cab company back--the cab that wasn't my cab? It was my cab. 15 more minutes. Finally, a cab. By this time I'm cold, damp, and furious. If you know anything about me and my feline tendencies, you can imagine what a combination this is. Anyway, I decide to go home instead of to the party, and here I am, covered head to toe in cashmere (ok, the pants are some other soft knitted fabric), and slowly remembering that I have a state of being other than "furious."

Look out world...

I feel like Barbara Streisand. Minus the nose.

Welcome to my world, world! I started a bloc on another site, then realized that most of my friends are blogging here and that blogging might be an easy way to stay in touch. So hello to all of my friends--look ma, I finally found technology!

So my exciting adventure today involved taking the green line out to the Garfield Park Conservatory and walking amongst the big gigantic palms and the little teeny cacti. There was a flower show on, too, so there were perfect specimens of all of those flowers that few real people are able to grow, especially in the city. The real excitement came outside, though, when I saw a car come very close to running down a pedestrian, then stop to allow the passenger to open the door to swear at said pedestrian. All of the onlookers began clucking their disapproval like so many chickens shooed from their nests to allow the farmer to get at their eggs.

Meanwhile, I sat on a bench, eating a sandwich, watching this all unfold, noting silently that I've become one of those indifferent urbanites I so despised when I moved to the city. Siri Hustvedt refers to this phenomenon as the "Law of Pretend it's not Happening." Pretend there's no fight about to break out, pretend that guy on the subway isn't drunk, pretend you don't see the guy behind the clothing drop off box relieving himself as you drop off clothes (true story--ask K___).

So the urban adventure continues as I___ and I plot our escape to the country. In the meantime, I have a party filled with circus people to go to.