Dreambird Designs

granny...don't be so square

2012-02-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

the granny square in her natural environment

I'm on it.

Number one on the sort-of list.

Crocheting myself an Afghan of granny squares in an attempt to whittle my yarn stash down so that it fits into its two assigned boxes.

squares of plenty

Also: granny squares rock. They are adorable, quick to whip up, and hilariously 70s-reminiscent. I was a child of the late 70s, and though the colors in favor have changed, nothing can take away my love for this ridiculous form of sofa-decoration. (Yes, when I looked it up, Wikipedia told me, in North American tradition, Afghans are for draping across your couch or "large chair" for decoration. No mention of keeping you warm while you read or knit or...never mind.)

These little guys are still missing their final borders, which will be a matching off-white, nine skeins (9 skeins? yes.) of which are supposedly coming in the mail courtesy of my mother courtesy of her mother courtesy of a friend who was trimming down her significant (like...think warehouse) yarn collection.

heaps o' squares

I'll take it. Nine skeins of free yarn.

Until they arrive, I'll probably keep making these innards, testing out every three-color combination/order there is, until I run out of yarn, or the cows come home, or something else demands my interest.

You say biscuits. I say scones. Or vise versa.

2012-01-27T08:00:00.000-08:00

This month we made scones. Or biscuits*. Or something resembling them.

It was back to basics time.

This month was all about experimentation, and learning about the chemistry and science of baking. Fat plus flour plus kneeding or folding equals light and fluffy or soft and gooey or layered and flaky.

Or something.

Blog-checking lines: Audax Artifex was our January 2012 Daring Bakers’ host. Aud worked tirelessly to master light and fluffy scones (a/k/a biscuits) to help us create delicious and perfect batches in our own kitchens!

folded.

Which is to say, were it a different month, I might have made four or five batches of biscuits/scones (especially because this recipe is tiny tiny so you can make them for two people and eat them ALL for breakfast/dinner and not worry about it one bit) but this month got away from me and it never happened.

Alas, I only made one set, but I will make more in the future.

ready for the oven.

This is one of those recipes that is so easy it's hard. For example, there are just five ingredients, so there's no place to hide old baking soda or non-sifted flour. In fact, for these scones I actually triple-sifted the flour. Triple. Sifted. (And I guess you should too.)

And! The sifting occurred from a great height, so as to incorporate as much air into the flour as possible. (And, by the way, to create as big of a mess as possible.)

After triple sifting, you get to rub in the fat with your fingers. I am all for any recipe where I get to use my hands. I love the feel of the flour and the butter and the goodness all in between my fingers. Oh yes I do.

Also, this recipe suggests grating the butter and then freezing it for a bit before incorporation. (I might need to admit that grating butter was also one of the most fun things I've done in the kitchen in a long time.)

breakfast accompaniment, but sweet. in this way I am honoring both America and Australia*.

The recipe becomes a choose-your-own-adventure-experience at this point, when you get to decide if you're going to knead or fold the dough. Kneading makes soft lovely scones and folding makes flaky layered scones. Either way, the dough is sticky and it makes you worry. (I folded.)

Don't worry. It will work out.

Cut your scones using a floured cutter that is open on top and round and thin-walled and blah blah blah you're going to end up just using a butter knife and cutting them apart because you have nothing resembling a biscuit cutter in your house and the description in the recipe makes you nervous.

Note: I need a biscuit cutter. Apparently the method of using an over-turned drinking glass just isn't going to cut it any more (pun definitely intended).

layers? almost.

Results were mixed. Joe thought they were divine and I thought they needed work. Sounds about right, doesn't it?

Next up: I'm going to make something that our host Audax calls a "fairy ring" in which he adds sprinkles (which Australians call "hundreds and thousands") to the dough and then ices and adds more sprinkles once baked. Anything with sprinkles is good by me.

Really. Anything.

* Apparently, in Australia these are called scones. They are usually cut out but then put on the baking sheet so that the sides touch and everything stays soft. They are eaten with jam over tea. They are not the North American scones (which are wedge-shaped and lumpy and fruity and dry and wonderful) but rather what are called baking soda biscuits in the States, which Americans eat with butter and turkey for dinner as a savory side. (Which, by the way, Australians would call "savoury.")

Also, one should note that buttermilk biscuits (to Americans) would be called buttermilk scones to Australians, and would still be eaten as a sweet, not with chicken-fried-chicken. These are American, according to our Australian host. And so, I thank you, Southern America, for buttermilk and the biscuits that come from them. But I didn't make those this time, because it seemed beside the point.

For external use only

2012-01-22T08:30:00.000-08:00

The second of my disclaimer series.

embroidery on former bed sheet (cotton) in super awesome (and by awesome I mean gaudy/ridiculous) Goodwill found frame.

Eating citrus rinds

2012-01-20T11:57:00.000-08:00

is delicious. Once they're candied.

Here's how to make your own:

1. Juice your citrus. I used three mid-sized grapefruits, but any citrus will work. (Drink juice.)

2. Cut citrus into fourths and use a grapefruit spoon to scrape out the insides--all the fruit and casings--leaving just the beautiful white pith and rind.

smoosh like so.

3. Smoosh the quarters of rind with your hand and cut into strips.

cut like so.

4. Boil some water. Throw the strips into the water and simmer for five minutes.

strips awaiting three boiling sessions.

5. Drain. Boil some more water. Throw the strips into the water and simmer for five minutes.

6. Again (three boil sessions). (You're boiling off the bitterness.)

7. Now put a cup of water and a cup and a half of sugar in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan and bring it to a boil.

8. Add the thrice-boiled rind strips to the sugar syrup and simmer on medium-low for about 90 minutes, or until soft and amazing.

strips soaking up sugar and love.

9. Using tongs, pull out the rinds a few at a time. Roll them in sugar, and leave them on a drying rack to dry.

10. Eat. Yum. Seriously.

How I like to party

2012-01-18T13:00:00.000-08:00

stairway bunting

With bunting. (as if you didn't know!)

We held a dinner party to celebrate my birth, and I decided that we needed a bit of updated festivity. With fabric scraps in hand, I added said festivity in a matter of hours. You can too! Here's what I discovered: you can sew a zigzag stitch right over yarn!

This means sewing bunting is amazingly easy. No need to sew each flag separately; not cutting thread between them and back stitching and blah blah blah.

Here's all you have to do:

1. Cut triangles of fabric
2. Pull out spare yarn
3. Turn sewing machine to zigzag stitch
4. Place yarn under needle

Fireplace bunting

5. Sew a few inches
6. Place triangle wrong-side-up underneath yarn
7. Sew
8. Repeat steps 5-7 until you've used up your triangles
9. Hang

Spurred on by quick bunting, I opted to make a table runner the same way. This time I pinned the triangles and yarn, but still zigzagged my way across the swath of fabric (a sliver of a drape I scored at Goodwill for something like four bucks.)

party on the table.

Also, I made a baby bunting for the cake. This required bamboo skewers (two), twine (mine was black), and tiny tiny diamonds of fabric (double-sided triangles). I folded the diamonds over on themselves, over the twine, and used glue dots (you know, the scrapbooking kind) to keep them closed. Tie the twine to the skewers, skew, and you're ready to go. Instant cake party.

Instant cake party

And lastly, scraps of joy for the light fixture. (These are modeled after miss dottie angel's sprightly spring scraps. Hers are vintage wallpaper scraps, but mine are actual scraps from the bunting.)

This is particularly difficult to photograph in my not-very-sunny house. Also, these photos were all taken pre-dinner-party, when it was already dark out and we were in a massive dash to put the finishing touches on...just a little bit of handmade pasta.

Please note: This pasta has not yet been cut into its appropriate strips. also, the yellow dog was not allowed to eat the pasta.

34 things to do before I turn 35 (or not)

2012-01-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

Lily

I failed to do most of the things on my list from last year. Big Fail.

It's pretty artificial, however, to make a list in December for the following year. Do you know how much changes in a year? I can't even begin to imagine who I will be and what I'll be excited about in the next two months, much less twelve.

So, I give you:

Things to do (or not) this quarter:

Crochet a blanket made of colorful granny squares. (i.e. use up some of my random yarn).
Crochet a rag rug.
Be awesome.

Things to do this year:

Take a segway tour. (seriously. i need an anonymous donor to fund this...)
Have a show in a gallery/public space. (wow. did i really type that?)
Move to Minnesota. (eek. doesn't that sound hard?)
Write about the hard stuff.

Oh! And happy birthday to me!

Blogging a Christmas list...rocks

2012-01-05T08:00:00.000-08:00

Portrait session with a cardinal.

To wit:
I received three of the five things for which I asked the Internets. (And by that I mean the people who read my blog, and by that I mean: my family.)

From both my parents and my in-laws, the earrings (two pairs! if only i had four ears.)

From my in-laws, the instant camera. (see above)

horrible photo quality, but the sun hasn't been out in days. what are you going to do?

From my dear husband, the gemsboks. (OMG folks, it is SO much more awesome in my home than it ever was in the store.)

Also, Jene: Don't you worry, Joe was all about festooning the bok with holiday cheer. I just can't wait to decorate him for each and every holiday. (Insert Joe's groan here.)

Sans Rival...with chocolate and pecans

2012-01-04T08:28:00.000-08:00

yum.

In a fit of Christmas spirit, between doses of Percocet, advil, aspirin, and massive amounts of coffee, I made another Sans Rival, this time with a chocolate walnut daquoise and chocolate buttercream frosting.

Which is to say two things:

Thing one

I returned from Saint Pete's (the Burg), Florida, only to wake up the following night with a throbbing wise tooth. A throbbing like no other pain. The kind of throbbing that makes you want to bash the side of your face with a brick. If you could just find a brick. Or maybe (you start to think as you're laying in the fetal position on the couch softly moaning, tears streaming down your face) you could bash your face into the corner of the back of a kitchen chair. Or the side of the table. Anything with an edge...

I spent the mid-night hours googling emergency dentists on my phone. I called one the second it opened, roused my husband for a ride, and promptly had a tooth pulled.

adding cocoa to the daquoise--makes it comes out all chocolatey and amazing

The tooth pulled? A wisdom tooth I had an agreement with for the past ten years (this is the same agreement I have with all insects/spiders in my house)--you don't bother me, I won't bother you.

Well tooth: Agreement broken. Time to go.

An aside: Did you know that they don't anesthetize you when they pull out a tooth? Don't get me wrong, the doctor (who was twelve, I swear, and also wearing a holiday tie but not a white coat) stuck me with four shots of the most heavenly Novocain I've ever been alive to experience. However, I was fully awake for the pulling procedure, telling myself that it was all normal and good. (It wasn't, but I didn't care anymore. I was just so excited to be numb.)

the makings of buttercream. sugar boiled with water until it reaches thread stage

I saw the pliers and the tool that looked a lot like a screwdriver with which the twelve-year-old dentist (the end of his holiday tie now contained inside an opening made by unbuttoning the center button of his shirt) used as if prying off the lid on a paint can--all simple machine lever-like to pry out my tooth. Then I closed my eyes. I decided that I just didn't need to see the blood and any more creepy metal tools.

Also, at this point I was in supreme denial. Sure that after the initial recovery time, my life would be so much better. No more fetal position for at least a few more months.

Meanwhile, behind my closed eyes, it was clear that said tooth wasn't coming like it was supposed to. No matter. More levering, more pulling, more prying. It came out all blood and spit and Twelve Year Old Holiday Tie said, "AH HAH, the root is hooked!"

I love that you can whip egg yolks until they bubble and froth. who knew?

I asked to see said tooth and hook. And he was right. The tooth was hooked like a...well...fishing hook. Apparently it had come in as far as said hook would allow, and instead of coming up like the well-behaved tooth I had expected it to be--straight and even, like a well starched shirt--it was skirting sideways across my face like the Hook of Darkness, pulling my gums with it. Or so it felt.

Long story boring: I went home, took a bunch of Percocet, and a few naps. Holiday Tie had given me a double-sided mimeographed (copy of a copy of a copy) of emergency impaction tooth extraction aftercare which I followed to. the. letter.

(I'm good at directions.)

assembled. still ugly. also, it turned out to be the leaning tower of sans rival. no matter.

No matter. Two days later I was back in the fetal position, the Percocet not even beginning to touch the pain in my tooth hole. I called Holiday Tie to say...I think I have a dry socket. His secretary got me right in.

Yay! I was right. Dry Socket.

I complained to Holiday Tie (no longer in said tie, and strangely now wearing a white coat). I followed your directions.

Yes, he said. But you're a young woman.

True, I said. (Waiting for it to become more obvious what was going on in our tete-a-tete. It didn't. I was forced to force the issue.)

What does that have to do with this? I asked.

Young women have hormones that don't allow a blood clot to stick around very often, he explained.

Super, I said. One more reason it's AWESOME to be a woman. I'm going to add that to my EVER-GROWING list.

There's a lot more drama in this story, but I'm getting exhausted telling it and reliving the jaw-aching, pain shooting down the side of my neck and into my arm experience. So I'll shorthand it for you like this: it's been over four weeks. I still have jaw/hole pain when I eat or breathe. I also get food stuck in said hole every time I eat, which makes everything hurt more. (YUM!)

So, when Holiday Tie told me that I was eventually going to have to get my three remaining wise teeth extracted, I wanted to slap his twelve-year-old face.

aerial view

Thing two
My dear friend Miss C held a small holiday gathering at her home. I asked (like the fabulous guest that I am) what I could bring. She answered, and I quote: "If you feel up to it I always welcome one of your desserts but no pressure."

Guess what I made?

Also, just for the record, it was delicious.

Happy Birthday, Anika!

2011-12-18T16:02:00.000-08:00

My adorable niece, all curls and screams, turned two yesterday. And in celebration of that two-ness, I knit her the cutest dress ever designed in seasonally appropriate colors.

This pattern is called Fiona's Top and is available for online purchase and download (sometimes) here (or on ravelry.com). The best part? I made it an extra few inches long and now it's not Fiona's Top, but Anika's Dress.

Also, since the shoulders are so roomy, she should be able to wear it for the next two years...as it becomes first a tunic and then a top! Three cheers for clothes you can grow into/with.

The pattern is an easy enough thing to work with, once you get the lace pattern down (which took me about four frogs. But then it's smooth sailing).

Also, a big shout-out to Knit Picks and their stroll glimmer yarn. It has silver stuff in it, which makes it festive and girly and all around awesome. And it's washable wool. Perfect.

Happy birthday, Sweet One who is Two! Here's to skirt-twirling fun.

Glice

2011-12-09T16:48:00.001-08:00

If my face was an ornament.

I was in St. Petersburg, Florida last week on business. I would highly recommend flying (for free) to Florida in December. Case in point: It was forty degrees and raining in Seattle when I left, and almost 75 and sunny in Florida when I arrived.

I might add that at a certain point during my stay I did start to complain about the pore-filling, brain-sweating humidity, but that Joe (who had just walked two dogs through the wind and rain and cold) wasn't very sympathetic.

Apparently the North Pole is in St. Petes, Florida

A little back story: I grew up in Minneapolis, where Christmas (and Thanksgiving, and often Halloween too) were accompanied by snow and finger-numbing, thigh-burning cold. Christmas is a time for hot buttered rum, brisk walks in long underwear, and snow forts.

In fact, I would be so bold as to put forth this simple equation: Snow = winter. (As my friend Sam Cook would say: "That's math.")

So imagine my surprise when I arrive in St. Pete's to find a winter wonderland scene made up of wooden cutout figures and sparkly lights.

Don't worry my dear Jewish readership--the park was not all pagan tree and Santa-themed: there was a light-up Hanukkah section in the park too--complete with menorah and dreidel.

(Also, for those of us who associate Christmas with baseball(?), there was a large light-up Santa batting at a pitch from an elf.)

But no snow.

Except for the next day: there was snow. The city carted in 7 tons of snow, packed it on top of sand (for insulation) in the park, and let the children play in it/slide on it. This sounds awesome, yes? Yes. But I don't have any pictures of it because I was in a ballroom learning about...work stuff.

Scratch that. My father (who serendipitously was also in St. Pete's at the same time) has photos. Here is one:

photo of crazy metal, sand, tarp sledding hill courtesy of my father

But on to my next point: ice. In Minneapolis, the lakes (there are 10,000 of them) freeze in the winter and we all go skating. People play ice hockey. They play broom ball (which actually requires boots, not skates, but still--ice).

And when we're not using the outdoor ice, well, there's indoor ice.

Not so in Florida.

No shoes on glice. We will provide free socks to wear though, cuz it's 77 degrees out and you're in flip flops.

In Florida we (they) have Glice. Glice is apparently plywood sprayed with silicone. Which makes it slippery, not unlike real ice.

Glice, unlike ice, doesn't melt. (Which is good when it's December and 77 degrees and super super humid.)

Glice in action. It's shiny.

For a few measly dollars (please note that santa and sledding were free, but Glice is not.) you can either a) put on the provided white tube socks or b) strap on ice skates (not sure if they were rentable or if you had to bring your own) and slide/skate around on the plywood the size of my living room. (For those of you who haven't been in my house: I live in a condo, and my living room isn't very big.)

For the seventeen minutes I stood at the Glice fence and watched the skaters with my mouth open wide in stupefied amazement, I noted that those on the Glice were having a very difficult time negotiating any sort of gliding or sliding or skating on the Glice.

This appeared to be user error, and not the fault of the Glice, since during the seventeen minutes said skaters were getting microscopically better in their glicing.

This is all to say: wow. I just had no idea.

And good work, Florida. Good work to bring snow and (gl)ice to your citizenry lest they have a warm, sad holiday season.

Also, I now continue this post with additional photos of me in the "photo area" with the cutout holiday scene.

What I would look like as a Christmas tree.

The Christmas Penguin of Cheer.

Butter. Cream.

2011-11-28T10:40:00.001-08:00

You're probably getting tired of me telling you that every thing I make with the daring bakers was better than the last thing. But, I'm sorry, it's just true.

Blog-checking lines: Catherine of Munchie Musings was our November Daring Bakers’ host and she challenged us to make a traditional Filipino dessert – the delicious Sans Rival cake! And for those of us who wanted to try an additional Filipino dessert, Catherine also gave us a bonus recipe for Bibingka which comes from her friend Jun of Jun-blog.

the almond dacquoise all ready to go

Take for example this month's challenge: the Sans Rival. Apparently this is a Filipino dessert, and to the Philippines, I say thank you. (And a big thank you to the Filipinos who studied abroad in France, where they learned to make this cake.)

Also, I should note that this dessert is traditionally made (by Filipinos) with cashews, but I don't love a cashew, so I used almonds and flavored my buttercream with almond extract too. (You can never have too much almond.) (Turns out, many people make this dessert with almonds. So I was right on.)

the first layer of dacquoise all baked and ready to be enrobed in butter. cream.

For the first time, I got to make dacquoise and the most ridiculous buttercream frosting ever. Dacquoise is whipped egg whites with nuts, which you bake into four crunchy layers, and the butter cream is...well...butter that is creamed with egg yolks and hot melted sugar. Fair enough?

The best part? (Well, besides the butter cream and the almond dacquoise, of course.)

The whole thing is gluten free! And not just the "let's use a medley of weird flours instead of wheat flour to make a cake that our gluten-free friends can eat" but just naturally gluten-free!

This turned out to be the best challenge of all for Thanksgiving week, since my Thanksgiving family is gluten-free. (But, thankfully, not butter-free.) This meant I got to bring dessert, which I usually leave to my more-experienced gluten-free bakers in the group. And bringing dessert is what this girl is all about.

So!

frosted and stacked. not that pretty yet.

I had one minor screw up with this recipe, and it goes like this: the cake has four layers. (4!) I only have two round cake pans. No worries, the recipe says, just make sure the pans are re-buttered and floured and not too hot when you make the second round of cake layers.

done!

Except.

When I went to pour my batter into the second round of cake pans, my stiffed-peaked whipped goodness was a soggy mess.

Stupidly (I soon learned), I put the mixer back to work on it to fluff it up some more. (This sort of works with whipped cream, but apparently NOT with dacquoise. The more I mixed, the soupier it got. Soon, I had a watery, almond-y, mess.)

Long story short: I had to send Joe out for more eggs and more almonds (On Thanksgiving morning, no less). And I had to make a half recipe of the cake to get two more layers.

an inside look at the layers

Also, the buttercream recipe makes just enough to frost this puppy. It's really okay, because you don't need any more than provided, but you have to use it sparingly between the layers. Trust me, it will all work out if you keep a clear head (and your husband's fingers out of the bowl).

Lastly, after you assemble this puppy, put her in the refrigerator. She'll cut a lot easier when she's cold.

All this to say: oh my. This is an amazing cake. The dacquoise has a bit of crunch but, after sitting in the frosting for some time, it ends up a bit noughat-y. And soft and wonderful. But mostly you're so busy enjoying the butter cream that you don't even care what it's wrapped around.

The cake making might be a bit finicky, and it uses 10 eggs (15 if you screw it up like I did) but SO SO SO good. It's worth it.

Christmas List

2011-11-23T12:00:00.000-08:00

In case you're looking for things to get me. Or things to get other cool cats.

1. Tiny, tiny earrings.

2. Bubble calendar. Um, hello? A bubble to pop for each day? Sign me up.

3. Long arm-warmers. Colors? You know, brown, green, whatever.

4. Tiny instant-photo camera. Because Polaroid is no more.

5. Paper mache animal head. Because we can.

Things I forgot...

2011-11-21T14:52:00.001-08:00

I've been looking through old photos and found a few gems I forgot to show you...

This pillow is cute, but may not be so comfortable to lean on...

shameless detail close up shot

t-shirt scrap rose! how fabulous is that?

tiny fish button, thus the discomfort

back

birthday card, celebrating a monumental year

namely, my mother's 60th birthday present and its corresponding card!

Blanch!

2011-11-16T11:19:00.001-08:00

don't use roasted almonds. they're not white.

Did you know you can blanch your own almonds? And that it's so easy?

Thank you Marcella Hazan, who has taught me to make her grandmother's pastry ring (which is then dipped in vin santo and makes me melt), my husband to make the most amazing meatballs, and now me to blanch almonds.

First off, if you want them to be pretty and pale, don't used toasted almonds, like I did. (But that's what I had.)

textured cloth. cool water. rub.

Second, boil them for 2 minutes.

Strain. Using a cool, wet cloth, rub the almonds a bit.

(Or, if you're me and you like the fun of it, squeeze the almonds from their wet shells one by one like so many shrimp.)

Ta Da! The shells come right off.

pretty.

Genius. Pure. Genius.

(As I was doing this, I kept exclaiming at the wonders of old-timey cookery. How many things do we buy in the grocery store that our grandmothers used to do/make/create on their own? I would like to start a list.)

1. Pre-sifted flour.
2. Blanched almonds.
3.

more?

Boo

2011-10-31T17:38:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!

I'm happy to report that this year I celebrated all-hallows-eve in style.

look at that mud!

To wit: I visited my first ever corn maze. I even got lost. There were 22 trolls to find, and I only found 17. I gave up early because it was super muddy and I was over it; I had definitely had my $5 worth of fun. (The best part about being an adult? Getting to admit you're over it.)

that middle pumpkin is a pirate. arrrrrrrgh says the middle pumpkin.

Then I got to pick my own pumpkins. This year's poor pumpkins were never given the sunshine to turn all the way orange...because, dear readers, Seattle never saw summer this year.

Then, for the actual Halloween festivity (ridiculous house party anyone?), I just couldn't get into the spirit costume-wise. I mean, I sewed a skirt for my friend's Daphne costume (think Scooby Doo) but just didn't want to spend time that I could be knitting or stitching or baking (or sleeping) making a costume that I would only wear...for about 3 hours.

Three days before the big party, I had an idea: wouldn't it be funny (in an ironic kind of way) to be old-school ghosts?

Full disclosure: this was after a couple of beers and a long day. But that night it sounded like the best idea ever.

In the morning it seemed a bit less funny, but not so bad as to not carry out the idea.

Joe and I went to Goodwill, bought two white flat sheets, and then promptly bleached them. (They were, in a word, icky.)

We put them on our heads, marked eye holes, cut eye holes and...done. Costumed.

(We then practiced being spooky.) (And we took two grainy and dark pictures...that are nevertheless awesome because you can't see our legs and we thusly look like...ghosts!)

horrible lighting makes it look like my sheet was dipped dyed. I assure you that it was not.

Note: although being old-school ghosts is fun and funny, it has the following drawbacks:

It's hot in there. Really hot.
It's hard to see where you're going. And if you're at a house party with narrow stairs and too many people, that makes things tricky.
That stupid sheet doesn't stay where you want it to. It slips around and you end up walking on your sheet and constantly trying to find the sweet spot where those holes are lined up with your eyes.
Already-drunk people will holler out: the Klansmen are here! when you walk in the room. It won't make you feel good, and you'll spend the evening explaining that you're GHOSTS. You'll even wave your sheet-covered ghosty hands and moan out your best boooooos.
It's hard to drink your beer with a sheet on and no mouth hole. I tried drinking through my eye-hole (yes, I did) and by holding my requisite red cup underneath the sheet. Mostly, I just spilled beer on myself and thusly ended my beer-drinking. It was Jell-O shots for the rest of the evening. (Or, to be more specific: one Jell-O shot, two bites of molded Jell-O brain.)

tongue

2011-10-30T10:18:00.000-07:00

boiling tongue

Sometime last year, a group of us went in and bought a quarter of a cow (affectionally named Happy Cow) while it was still a calf (and alive).

Happy Cow spent a year wandering around rural Washington, eating grass and breathing clean (rainy) air, and then, as things go in that whole circle of life metaphor, Happy Cow was slaughtered on our behalf.

boiled tongue. look at all that muscle! that is one strong tongue.

Around slaughtering time, the butcher called to ask how we wanted our quarter cow butchered. Joe spent hours looking at cuts of meat, trying to figure out how to cut things apart so that we could split a quarter cow five ways and all get some good stuff, and then at the end of the list of cuts and requests, he asked for the tongue.

I mean, it's not like anyone else wanted it, right?

skinning the tongue.

We promised our fellow cow-buyers that we would host a party where we cooked up the tongue (and the brisket too).

It finally happened, dear readers. Joe soaked Happy Cow's tongue, skinned it, and braised it in red wine with a medley of fall vegetables and spices. He reduced the braising liquid until it was strong and flavorful, purreed the vegetables from the braise, and then added the puree to the liquid to make a delicious sauce.

He then chopped up the tongue, pulled apart the brisket, and doused it all in the amazing sauce.

We toasted sourdough hoagie rolls and made dripping, delicious sandwiches.

We invited twelve people into our tiny condo, who all brought sides and booze, and we dined and dined and dined.

And it was good.

after braising. (that's the tongue in the foreground and the brisket behind it.)

But, as it would always seem to go...I did not take a single picture of the delicious tongue sandwiches. I did not take a picture of the delicious tongue and brisket beautifully laid out as a festive spread on the countertop.

In short, I did not get any "after" photos. And for that, I am deeply regretful.

leftovers.

But, alas, the lights were dimmed and the candles lit, and anyhow, it's October now so the sun was long set by the time we sat down to dine. Clearly, there wouldn't have been enough light to take photos anyhow...and one wouldn't want to ruin the mood by sliding the light dimmer switch up to the top and making my guests squint while I photographed their food.

So you'll have to put on your imagination caps and think about toasted, buttered mini-hoagies and dripping, beautiful braised meat.

OR, you'll have to make your own tongue. (Not your OWN tongue, but your own cow's tongue.)

Povitica

2011-10-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

What is there to say about beautifully filled and rolled bread that hasn't already been said?

Shall I wax poetic about the gorgeously thin, almost transparent lofty layers of bread, enrobed in sweet walnut paste?

Shall I go on and on about the delicate crumb or the toothsome texture?

Shall I admire its ability to both satiate and provide warm-your-soul comfort with just one bite?

Or shall I just leave it at: this is delicous.

De. Lish. Us. (<---click there for the recipe)

Blog-checking lines: The Daring Baker’s October 2011 challenge was Povitica, hosted by Jenni of The Gingered Whisk. Povitica is a traditional Eastern European Dessert Bread that is as lovely to look at as it is to eat!

all rolled out on...yes...my bed sheet.

De. Lish. Us.

delicious filling.

rolled up! look how long it is!

two tubes of goodness nestled in their loaf pans

Full disclosure: this recipe makes four loaves. Four. You'll say to yourself, "Self, there's no way my partner and I can (or should) eat four loaves. I'll make a half-recipe."

And then, dear reader, you'll take one loaf to a party, and keep one for yourself, and that one lonely loaf will be gone and while you're still licking the sticky filling off your fingertips you'll be saying to yourself, "Dang it, Self. You should have made all four."

Because we all know, dear readers, bread is like lasagna. Just as easy to make more as it is to make one.

Finished product

Let this be a lesson to you: make. all. four.

Mouth-watering close up

two things

2011-10-10T16:04:00.000-07:00

Thing One:

Joe and I were walking around South Lake Union yesterday and stumbled upon a tiny Sunday gem: the model boat pond at the SLU park. On Sundays, the fabulous people at the Center for Wooden Boats are there with model sail boats that you can take out on the pond. (And it's free! Although they like donations.)

We took out the Posideon. She has adjustable sails (real sails!), and she is quite sea-worthy. In fact, once we got her trimmed just right, she even keeled beautifully.

Also, the pond was in high use by families with small children, and their delight at this simple, air-powered toy was pretty contagious.

Moral of the story: Get thee to the SLU park on a Sunday afternoon. Wear your captain's hat.

Thing Two:

There is a new whiskey and bitters emporium (read: bar) in town called Canon. If you live in Seattle and you like either a) whiskey or b) bitters or c) clever comfy bars you should get yourself there.

First off, they have a drink called the hanky panky that comes in a flask. (Your very own flask!)

(my very own flask!)

Secondly, they have a drink called the vermouth experiment, wherein you get three (yes, three!) manhattans, each expertly made with a different vermouth. (Each, too, with a happy booze-soaked sour cherry waiting for you at the bottom of the glass.)

Thirdly, and not the least of which, your bill comes in an old school tobacco can. If you are lucky enough to get the Prince Albert can, you'll learn all about the benefits of Prince Albert tobacco.

(amazing old-timey advertising copy)

Moral of the story: Get thee to canon. Bring your bootleg.

Officemates

2011-10-07T15:58:00.001-07:00

one hound dog and one yellow dog. hard at work.

(also, i would like to note, that the yellow dog doesn't really like to share space with the hound dog. he got up right after this photo was taken.)

Dottie!

2011-10-04T12:34:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Uppercase.

Last Friday night, Joe and I ventured to Assemble Gallery and Studio (my new favorite local gallery) to celebrate the book launch of one of my favorite long-term bloggers, dottie angel.

dottie is the alter ego/blogging personality of one Tif Fussell, who I met, and who is very sweet and not yet snooty-star-struck. (not that I am assuming that she will become snooty-star-struck, but one never knows.)

(Also, I hope that she, and her publisher, won't be sad that I poached these photos.)

I told her I was reluctant to come to her party, since I didn't want to appear to be some raving lunatic of a fan. It's weird to meet someone in person who you seem to know so much about, while still knowing that you don't know them in the real flesh--only their web persona.

Luckily, Tif agreed with me regarding the weirdness (on her end as well), but she has thus far been delighted to meet people who are not raving stalkers but rather crafty people like herself who are genuinely nice and normal. I hope that I too came across as nice and normal. (or at least, not scary or raving.)

Photo courtesy of Uppercase.

You may remember dottie as the inspiration for the bunting I made for my studio. Although our color palettes would seem to disagree, our crafty philosophies are quite similar. We do not take ourselves too seriously, we must have dogs on the floor to get anything done, and we both fight mightily against a very long rainy season here in the upper northwest.

Also, dottie's new book is amazing. So, so much better in person than could ever be shown on the interwebs. (And yes! It comes with an amazing envelope of real life goodies, including buttons and scraps of happy.)

results not typical

2011-10-03T12:16:00.000-07:00

Embroidery on cotton, found frame. (And by "found" I mean purchased for something like .99 cents at Goodwill.)

The first of my disclaimer series. Watch for more to come.

Oh la la! *

2011-09-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

And now, in a completely apropos cosmic shuffling, the daring bakers had us bake croissants this month!

Blog checking lines: The Daring Bakers go retro this month! Thanks to one of our very talented non-blogging members, Sarah, the Daring Bakers were challenged to make Croissants using a recipe from the Queen of French Cooking, none other than Julia Child!

ooh! look at those layers!

Here's the thing about croissants, my dear readers: they take, at minimum, two days. They taste good, and they're not that difficult to make, but MAN, are they fussy.

Brushed with egg white and ready for the oven!

For example, note the steps:

1. mix the dough
2. 3-hour rise
3. fold it like a letter
4. 90 minute rise (or overnight)
5. incorporate the butter, do some clever folding
6. two hour rest in the refrigerator
7. fold some more
8. another two hour refrigeration
9. make into crescents
10. 1-hour rise
11. bake!

Did you see that? That's five rises/rests. FIVE. That's basically a weekend spent timing each hour and never going far from home.

yum please.

But I don't mean to be a complainer. This recipe is totally doable, if you have the time and the patience. It's also delicious.

And one of the only recipes I've made this year with the daring bakers that I didn't have to re-do. First time was a charm. Maybe I'm lucky...or maybe Julia Child is a hero. You be the judge.

*Also, I would like to report that although we in the United States seem to think that the French say "ooh la la," I personally heard at least three French people say "oh la la" while I was there last month. Not oooh, but O. Just thought you might want to know.

number twenty-five

2011-09-14T13:58:00.000-07:00

Just one of the many, many, multi-layered buttery treats that passed through my lips during my two week stint in Paris.

Truffles. No pig needed.

2011-08-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

Milk chocolate, framboise, and fresh mint ganache enrobed in tempered dark chocolate

For this month's daring baker challenge, we were asked to temper chocolate and make two kinds of candy. I've never done either, and there were so many options, so I was feeling a little overwhelmed. As you'll remember, my parents came to town for a weekend, and I enlisted their help. My father was hesitant, but he definitely ate his share of melted chocolate along the way.

Can you tell what temperature we're at? No? Me neither.

The August 2011 Daring Bakers’ Challenge was hosted by Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drive and Mandy of What the Fruitcake?!. These two sugar mavens challenged us to make sinfully delicious candies! This was a special challenge for the Daring Bakers because the good folks at http://www.chocoley.com offered an amazing prize for the winner of the most creative and delicious candy!

Tempering chocolate involves heating it to a certain temperature, cooling it, and heating it again. There's definitely some science involved about changing the structure of something...crystals or proteins or what have you...that I don't understand. What I do understand is that it prevents blooming (which is the prettiest name for the ugly white streaks on your chocolate bar from being left in the car to melt and reharden) and it makes the chocolate shiny and snappy. Most everyone likes shine, but all people love snap.

If you read the directions provided by the daring bakers this month, you'll see that you can also temper chocolate on a marble slab. I, for one, don't have a marble slab. And frankly, the melt, stir, and stir some more method was very simple and straightforward. Except, as you'll see above, for when I got chocolate on my candy thermometer and couldn't see the temperature.

They may not be pretty, but they are scrumptious.

Also, apparently I have the wrong thermometer yet again. We were waiting and waiting and stirring and stirring trying to get the temperature to lower under 25 degrees Celsius, until my father said:

Wait. Maybe it doesn't register any lower.

He tested it under cold water, and he was right. Now I own a meat thermometer and a candy thermometer already. Is there a chocolate thermometer I'm supposed to own too? Too many things.

Milk chocolate ganache enrobed in crushed almonds

Lessons learned along the way:

1. Refrigerate your ganache. The colder it is, the easier it is to work with. Don't be afraid to put the bowl of ganache in an ice bath while you work with it.

2. Don't temper your chocolate until you're ready to use it. It gets cold and then it gets hard to work with and you're back and forth over the double boiler trying to keep it that great slippery consistency. This is not mandatory, but it makes things easier.

3. These are really good. Plan to give some away so you don't eat them all yourself.

And then we were 10!

2011-08-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

Sending out a Happy Anniversary to my sweet partner, to whom I said "I do" ten years ago today.

I'd do it again. No question.

B turns 4

2011-08-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

And for this fourth birthday, even though I think I might have said I was going to stop knitting him sweaters, I lied. I couldn't help myself. He's still small enough that you can kind of tell him what to wear. And he's so little and cute. And so his sweaters are little and cute.

How many more trucks that light up and make annoying noises does he need? (Or, how many more can his mother stand?)

Luckily for me, he's in love with construction equipment, and when I saw this sweater I knew it might be the best compromise out there. Knitting for me, no more loud toys for his mom, and cool trucks for him.

This was also my first foray into colorwork, and let me tell you. It's hard. So hard. Getting the tension right, and weaving the ends through, and working a color chart--it's a full brain job. There's no watching a movie while you work. In fact, I was stooped over the chart with a ruler, counting, plotting, and unraveling all the way.

A lot of frogging occurred. A lot of putting it down and counting to ten so I didn't start cutting it up into triangles of wrath with shears.

But once I got the trucks done, the rest was a breeze and a delight to knit. Sewing zippers into sweaters is my new skill, but even after two successes, I hate it.

Can you find the dog hair in this photo?

Anyway, happy fourth birthday sweet Brendan!! I hope you get cupcakes and candles and enough joy from the day to make getting a sweater from your crazy Aunt Heather all worth it.

Hi.

2011-08-12T09:51:00.000-07:00

photo by Dr. Wendy Ellis, and her phone. Sorry for the grainy-ness.

My parents come to town this weekend, and I think I'm going to make them help me with this month's daring bakers challenge. (They don't know this yet.)

Also, we're going to eat well. (Like we did in the photo above, when Joe rubbed a chicken down with adobo, stuffed it with limes, and roasted it. YUM.)

Also on the agenda is SAM Remix, a live-art, live-music extravaganza at the Olympic Sculpture Park, which ends with an outdoor showing and sing-along to Grease the movie. Yes it does. First 50 wearing gingham get in free, in case you missed ticket sales.

How about you? What's on the tap for the weekend?

I know what Roody will be up to...

I heart (public) art some more.

2011-08-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

There's an installation in Carkeek Park this summer, and it's filled with site-specific (mostly) natural-element sculptures, integrating themselves into the landscape of the park.

There's a horrible map with no scale and too much information that doesn't tell you how to get to see any of them, so you must pretend you're on a scavenger hunt or you'll get frustrated and give up.

Nevertheless. When it's sunny and you feel like a wander in the city, this is the place.

My favorites are these here cardboard shelf fungi. They're so innocuous, so small, so perfectly placed around the fence line, you almost walk right by them.

Aren't they fantastic?

This one was a definite winner

2011-07-27T10:24:00.000-07:00

Coconut chiffon cake, smothered in simple syrup, sandwiching pastry cream and strawberries, and all topped with almond paste? Um...yes please.

Blog-checking lines: Jana of Cherry Tea Cakes was our July Daring Bakers’ host and she challenges us to make Fresh Frasiers inspired by recipes written by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson in the beautiful cookbook Tartine.

This is another one of those fussy seventeen-part recipes, but like many others, much of this can be made in advance (simple syrup, cake, pastry cream base), refrigerated and assembled when it's time. (Plus, summer is an excellent time to have extra simple syrup around the house for iced coffee and mixed drinks.)

Also, this puppy has to sit in the refrigerator for four hours before you can eat it. So add that to your planning. (There's nothing worse than not have enough chill time and serving your guests slump cake. Been there.)

I can't tell you how good this was. I just can't. I can only say that this graced the end of an impromptu dinner party and I was never so sad the next day that I shared a dessert with others.

After the party, only four skinny pieces remained. And for this one, you bet I licked the platter.

Make one by playing along with this recipe.

The only things I would change next time:

1. Find a way to make the top prettier. Rolled almond paste and powdered sugar just didn't do it for me. Some people dyed their almond paste, other people put more fruit on top (we used our extra strawberries--muddled--in the prosecco we drank alongside the cake), and some people added gelee. We'll see. Honestly, the sides are so pretty it might not matter that the top isn't.

2. Infuse the simple syrup with something fun like a vanilla bean or some mint leaves. Or not. The cake already has a lot going on, it's not that it needs more. It might just be fun to try.

Number twenty continues: World's largest continual chocolate waterfall

2011-07-20T16:26:00.000-07:00

20 feet of streaming, splattering, sticky chocolate all for your viewing pleasure at The Candy Basket just outside of Portland, Oregon.

The website says it smells good, but I didn't think so. I'm not sure it's the freshest chocolate in the world. It was however, very tall, and it was very chocolatey. So, two out of three.

Here's the deal--this puppy is right off the highway (like right off, though the signage is pretty crappy so you have to believe that it's there and then it will magically appear), and you should stop there should you ever be traveling east on I-84.

Not only for the ever-ripe photo opportunity with the fountain, but because The Candy Basket makes really good candy.

I mean, we bought the obligatory $5 worth of bear paws and coconut bonbons, just because the kid behind the counter seemed nice and didn't even flinch while I took way too many photos with my phone, none of which turned out very good due to low light (and being a sub-optimum photographer--trying not to make too much of a scene in front of the fountain. Oh if I had just embraced the embarrassment of it all. It's a gimmick, after all, and it worked to get us into the store).

We ate the candy on our way to a campsite, and had to keep exclaiming how good it was. I wish we'd bought more. However, I didn't see the free sample sign until we were on our way out. The free samples being offered were sugar free jelly candy, and since I don't love Splenda, I didn't love them. Had I sampled some actual chocolate, we could very well have spent much more on candy that would have invariably melted in the car during our camping trip. So I guess it's a happy story either way. Next time, I say, next time I will buy more candy.

BTW. The "World's Largest" designation may be a bit dodgy. Anchorage Alaska also boasts a 20 foot chocolate waterfall, but I guess it's not "continuously running." The actual tallest chocolate waterfall--26 feet 3 inches--is in (where else?) Las Vegas.

Floss

2011-07-18T11:50:00.000-07:00

Been working on some stuff with the embroidery floss (remember, here?) and just love love love the to and fro of the needle in my hand.

Trying something new. I'm no longer making anything that's functional. I've long been pulled away from doing anything that is purely for visual pleasure thinking that I'm not an artist, I'm a craftsperson. Craftspeople make useful things--baby gear, purses, sweaters, etc. And when I make useful things, I can hide behind the pattern. (It's not really my work, I'm just following someone else's ideas).

When you make something that is just for hanging on the wall, it's a lot scarier. Suddenly it's all self-expression, and there's nothing to hide behind. There it is. You either like it or you don't.

Either way, it's me. Or parts of me.

And then come the voices. The "you're not an artist," "no one wants your crap," "who do you think you are" voices. And I'm learning to make space for them. Turns out, the louder they are, the closer you are to doing something great. Something new and daring and different.

The voices stay very quiet when you're not taking any risks. So. Instead of listening to the voices, I'm learning to use them as a barometer for risk and the subsequent chance at growth.

I'll let you know how that shapes up.

I heart (public) art

2011-07-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

Thank you Suzanne Tidwell, for making my year with this surreal, colorful, and thorough yarn bombing of Pioneer Square.

And thank you, Seattle, for being the kind of town that not only says yes to this project, but provides grant money for it as well.

Two things

2011-07-13T14:15:00.001-07:00

I declare summer officially here. Namely, because of the following two things:

1. We went camping.

2. I had a pedicure.

Or...

2011-06-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

Maybe there's hope after all.

Exhibit A: a new rolling pin. French style. Just in case we want to try that baklava again.

Just. In. Case.

Baklava Fail

2011-06-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

Erica of Erica’s Edibles was our host for the Daring Baker’s June challenge. Erica challenged us to be truly DARING by making homemade phyllo dough and then to use that homemade dough to make Baklava.

And here, at the kitchen of dreambird and her trusty sidekick, we tried. We really did.

It started benignly enough. The dough for this lovely item is like a marshmallow--so smoothy and supple that it's like kneading a cloud. A good start, I thought. But then, after letting it sit for the required two hours, the dread began...

We rolled, and rolled, and rolled that phyllo dough until we were blue in the arms and the dough was see-through. We stacked it with copious amounts of flour between the sheets, as per instructions, and low and behold...the sheets stuck together, leaving us with a hardened mess. So we re-rolled. And something about the re-rolling did not allow them to become as thin as before. Nor as supple.

We poured the syrup over the baked baklava, indulging in the sizzle and snap of the liquid meeting the hot dough--just as described! And we waited overnight for the syrup to sink in.

Baklava for breakfast! we thought.

The next morning, we had tasty, sticky sweet lumps of condensed gluten-ized cake for breakfast. Not the flaky, buttery, moist concoction of which we had been dreaming. A bit like stale crackers bathed in syrup. Tasty, yes, but not what one is hoping for.

We swore we'd make another batch before the 27th (today) posting date for Daring Bakers. We did (thus the horrible photos--we were saving the professional photo shoot for the baklava triumph). But as the days move on, I cared less and less about my inability to make phyllo dough, and was more and more convicted that Baklava might be best baked by someone else.

Maybe you are that someone else. And if so, here is the recipe. God speed.

Two things

2011-06-22T15:26:00.000-07:00

1. We are growing peas. Which is to say: I planted some peas and they are growing all on their own.

2. Our old friend Decker has come to visit. Decker lived with us for three months last fall, when we both a) fell in love with him and b) affirmed that we should not house three big dogs in our small condo. Decker was adopted into his forever home right before we left for Arizona, and received the name Albert from his new family. Said family is on vacation, so Albert (who we keep accidentally calling Decker) is visiting.

He thinks he's at summer camp.

Or he would, if the weather would cooperate.

Weekend brag

2011-06-08T10:39:00.000-07:00

It was sunny in Seattle this weekend. On Saturday.

And even though Sunday was mostly cloudy, it was hot and not raining.

So it looked a lot like this.

And this.

And this.

Check out the dog in this last picture. He's on the left. We sat and watched him play in the fountain for no less than an hour. Drenched and jumping into the streams--mouth gaping--trying to eat the water and the coolness and the summer joy.

Oh. And I made some more cowls.

2011-06-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

One for myself and one for a friend.

Because sometimes you have yarn leftover from the super awesome relationship-threatening sweater. And you just can't stop.

I feel like a kid

2011-06-01T05:16:00.000-07:00

with a new box of crayons.

All that hope and ambition wrapped up in embroidery floss. Because this girl is becoming an embroidery-ing addict. Watch out world. Anything that isn't strapped down will soon be embellished with these delicious threads.

2 things 2 play with

2011-05-31T10:38:00.000-07:00

1. Harmony. Go play.

2. I resisted QR codes for a long time, since they're mostly used for advertising and I found them a bit intrusive. But, give it a minute folks, because the art crowd will snatch these up and make them into tiny secret scavenger hunts. Go download a QR reader. Get the free one. Then scan this:

from postsecret.com

Then go make more. Because the last thing we need is more bar codes. I think.

It is finished...and we are still together!

2011-05-30T17:10:00.000-07:00

It is complete. I mean, it's been complete for some time now, but I've been lazy about photographing it. (Perhaps that is because the man in the sweater is the family photographer. Perhaps it's just been a busy spring.)

I am happy to report that the sweater fit him, after assembling all the pieces on to the huge circular needle, except for the arms. No, even though I added three inches when making the arms, they were too short. Never you fear, dear readers, because I added a trusty cuff to match the neckline, and ta-da! They are now long enough to be cozy.

Because this is designed to be cozy. It's less of a sweater and more of a jacket. And you can't have a jacket with too-short sleeves. (Well you can, I think, but you won't wear it.)

Also: the part you have been waiting for: I wrote of the sweater curse in a previous post, and am happy to report that, thus far, we are still married and even like each other (knock on wood).

So there it is.

Lastly, in case you need to make the man in your life this sweater (or you are the man in your life and you need to make yourself this sweater), it's called Scarlow, and was created by King Bee.

Chocolate Marquise on Meringue (with tequila carmel and spiced almonds)

2011-05-27T10:07:00.000-07:00

Yes. Oh yes.

The May 2011 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Emma of CookCraftGrow and Jenny of Purple House Dirt. They chose to challenge everyone to make a Chocolate Marquise. The inspiration for this recipe comes from a dessert they prepared at a restaurant in Seattle.

Apparently no one makes marquise anymore, so these two lovely (and local) ladies are trying to keep the dessert alive. And to that, I say: yes.

This recipe is fancy, indulgent, and fantastically sweet, rich, and spicy. The textures are incredible. Think frozen french silk...but so so so much better. And the caramel is worth making just to have on ice cream, so sweet, and so alcoholic (in a good way).

But, let me digress for just a minute. The spiced nuts? You whip an egg white and add the spices. Then you "toss" the nuts in, spread them on a baking sheet, and bake. Everyone else's nuts came out looking normal...and mine made this huge nut cookie. I made them twice, and both times: nut cookie. Or, make that: burned nut cookie. I did my best to extract some un-burned nuts from the cookie to use as garnish, and they taste great, but what gives? (And, really, when you look through the recipe, do you think that the NUTS are going to be the hard part? No. So there it is.)

For those who are clicking on the link to the recipe (see "Yes," above), I used the half batch provided by our resident physicist and baker Audax. I also followed the ingredients exactly as they are, as I always want to see/taste/create the original before I start doctoring flavors and themes. Not so for my fellow daring bakers who are all over changing things up by adding compote or changing the alcohol and/or spice mix. Call me a purist, but I do this at restaurants too: I must first order the meal the way the chef intended...and then work to doctor it (extra hollandaise, fruit instead of potatoes, etc.) on my second ordering.

PS. This recipe is cumbersome, but don't let it intimidate you: all of the components can be made ahead of time (except the meringue) and kept for awhile in the fridge (caramel) or freezer (marquise). We've been sawing off chunks of this baby every night after dinner...and we're not ever going to get tired of it. So! When you have an extra few hours the day before a big party, whip this up and amaze your guests.

PPS. Pictures are pending. It's a long, sordid story.

And this is what I have to live with

2011-05-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

It could definitely be worse.

having a love affair

2011-05-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

with stargazer lilies.
mostly because my kitchen smells like spring.

Toy Society Drop Number 4: An ugly thing goes to Fremont (where it should fit in nicely)

2011-05-04T16:44:00.000-07:00

When Joe and I moved to Seattle, some (gasp) eight years ago, we bought a Seattle city guidebook, a Frommers or Foders or Lonely Planet to show us around the city we had chosen as our home. Having spent the previous four years in Anchorage, Alaska, we were thrilled to find the prices in Seattle incredibly affordable (Fresh produce year round! Dinner out for under $40!) and the city fabulously full of equal parts foody, outdoorsy, eco-aware, and non-conformist.

The part I remember about the guidebook: It broke Seattle down into neighborhoods, which is actually how Seattlites see/live/visit/talk about the city. (Portlandites may be fond of their double-letttered ordinals, but we've got 'hoods so distinct as to be mini-cities on their own.) The part I remember about the guidebook: The page on Fremont. The title was, and I kid you not: Fun, Funky Fremont.

Since then I can neither visit nor speak about this hippie/anything-goes spot perched atop the ship canal to Lake Union like an escaped Macaw without hearing (in my head) those three alliterative words.

For those of you who aren't from around here: Fremont is both fun and funky, but that's a little simplisticly put. Fremont very much has a live-and-let live attitude, and it's filled with hippies and artists and hipsters and vegans and all things West Coast. It is home to my favorite parade of the year--which is opened with hundreds of naked bicyclists festooned in full body paint peddling their way down Fremont Avenue. It is home to the very iconic troll, who winks beneath the SR-99 bridge while clutching a VW bug, among a number of other public art installations.

Having said all that. I made what can only be described as something sort of ugly. One might call it a doll, but that would be a bit generous. And last weekend, on my way to the Fremont Sunday market (a raucous and motley collection of "antiques," screenprinted t-shirts, and bongs being hawked alongside mini-donuts and falafel), I snatched the opportunity to re-home said ugly almost-doll.

This is my fourth Toy Society drop, dropped on the intersection of Fremont and 38th, on Sunday morning around 11 am-ish. When we returned, some time later, the almost-doll was gone. May he/she have found a loving home where he/she can be appreciated for all that she/he is and can be. Godspeed.

Number one from two years ago

2011-04-09T07:44:00.000-07:00

Better late than never.

Unable to commit to a series of four-hour night classes, (who wants to go to school for four hours after working a full day?), Pratt finally offered something more my speed. That is, a one-night only four-hour class as part of their mini-class series--Spring into Art!--that runs one week in April. (Check that out, Seattle, they have glass-blowing and metal bending and screen printing, and all kinds of coolness for such reasonable prices.)

We spent four hours drawing gourds and driftwood with charcoal on big, porous paper taped to paint-splattered easels while KEXP played in the background, and the teacher flipped through a series of sketches and drawings by the masters for reference.

Gesture drawing, contour, cross-contour--over and over and over--wiping each rendition away with a heavily-soiled chamois, clearing the canvas for more. Charcoal is a mess. But it's so forgiving, and so palpable. Don't like what you drew? Draw over it with more pressure. Or, smudge it into submission with your hand. Or, failing all of that, erase it with the chamois.

There was wine and leftover cheese from a lecture that had taken place down the hall. My hands were black with charcoal dust; my face sported a few smudges as well. (I was not alone in the wearing of charcoal like so much hasty rouge.)

It was still a loong day. But it was worth it.

Photoshoot (or half of number 26)

2011-04-07T16:06:00.000-07:00

These were all self-taken, with us driving around Georgetown looking for backdrops, parking (sometimes legally), setting up the tripod (in the wind, looking out for trains, avoiding the mud), and using the remote to snap the photos.

The dogs were not included, frankly, because it sounded too darn hard without having another person to photograph us. However, this is a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon, if the sun comes out, and you feel so inclined.

luck be a lady...finger

2011-03-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

My good friends Steve and Julie were recently engaged to be married, and in celebration Miss C threw a dinner party. In keeping with dinner party tradition, we had a theme--Italian--and assignments. I have made myself the official dessert maker, a distinction I take seriously.

So seriously, when it was requested that I make a tiramisu, I rose to the challenge, and pulled out my Baking with Julia, for the perfect ladyfinger recipe. Julia did not disappoint.

sorry, but this is a horrible picture. you kind of get the idea, though, right?

Her ladyfingers involve egg yolks and eggs and sugar and cake flour--all ingredients I use almost every time I bake. And yet, by virtue of pairing them in different ways, mixing them for different amount of times, and adding ingredients in differing orders, the variations of batter, dough, and desserts are endless. This is never so true when making the genoise for the fingers. I had no idea that you could beat egg yolks until they turned white. You can (and should).

Also, as proof positive, I wanted to add a photo from my process, notably the parallel lines I drew upon Julia's recommendation, to ensure my fingers were all the same length and had room enough to get three dozen on a pan. (The sticks of butter are just to hold down the parchment. FYI, butter makes a great paperweight.) I am not one for following detailed and irritating directions, but for some reason I pulled out the T-square and indulged Julia in her OCD. I was not disappointed. My ladyfingers were quite uniform, and I would love to show them to you all lined up on the pans both before and after baking, but I got distracted when they came out of the oven, so intent on the next step.

The next step? The tiramisu. For the recipe I used this. And seeing as how cranky this guy appears to be, I followed his Italian in-laws' instructions down to the Italian mascarpone. Lucky for me, we happen to have an Italian grocery in Seattle, and there I was able to find--direct from Italy--the correct cheese.

And here's where you'll have to imagine whipping egg yolks until they're white (again!) and whipping whites until they're peaked and fluffy, and adding more cognac and cheese and layering the whole thing with bravado--because I didn't take any pictures of the process. I did, however, make my husband come downstairs and look as I was doing it, so excited was I.

Look! There they are! After having been dipped in cooled espresso/cocoa/cognac and lined perfectly in my pan! Thanks Julia! (Having uniform cookies made lining them up in the pan so simple.)

And here's the finished tiramisu, which I got a little over-excited about and upon which I dumped too much cocoa.

(Also, apropos of nothing, but something I noticed after snapping this last photo, it would appear that the color palette for our kitchen backsplash could adequately be called "tiramisu.")

Two words: YUM and YUM

2011-03-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

The March 2011 Daring Baker's Challenge was hosted by Ria of Ria's Collection and Jamie of Life's a Feast. Ria and Jaime challenged The Daring Bakers to bake a yeasted Meringue Coffee Cake.

And it's wonderful. The recipe is large and makes two coffee cake rings, and a lot of Daring Bakers split the recipe to make only one. I had planned on doing that as well, but in a last minute fit of generosity (oh! I'll bring one to work!) I made the full recipe. Let's just say that the second ring never made it to the office.

This recipe is a bit different than anything I'd ever seen--a yeasted bread roll filled with meringue. And it's genius. The filling melts and softens the bread around it--a gooey treat. But the meringue also crisps a bit where the slits are cut into the bread ring, allowing a tiny dried meringue crust to form in the oven. Yum.

It's a straightforward recipe, very similar to making any kind of sweet roll, in that it's a soft dough that rises once, is assembled into a roll, and rises again before baking. The only difference here is the meringue filling--remarkably fun to spread out and work with---like baking with sweetened clouds.

I filled my cake with chopped Belgian chocolate, cinnamon, and strong, amazing East Indies nutmeg from Penzeys (which is my new favorite nutmeg, and since nutmeg is my favorite spice to bake with, that's saying a lot).

After you roll up the dough and form the circle, you snip deeply into the sides every so often to let the filling ooze out a bit to make the subtle crunch. A painting of egg wash, and the bread goes in the oven.

It comes out of the oven brown and lovely, and it's all you can do to let it cool enough to eat it without burning yourself on the filling.

The only thing I will change for next time? Nuts. This baby screams for pecans. And next time you can bet that I'll be answering that scream.

Number 19

2011-03-01T07:59:00.000-08:00

Oh Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe. Why did I not visit you earlier?

With your shrunken heads and your fetal deer in a jar and your taxidermic two-headed calf?

I mean, come on. You have two mummies and a full human skeleton. You have a taxidermy four-legged chicken.

You have stuffed dead things and fake things hanging from the ceiling in dusty, crazy-time splendor.

My favorite part, however, and the part for which I was woefully unprepared, are your old-timey carnival machines.

There's the fortune teller with the glowing crystal ball, the one-armed bandit who dispenses tokens, the sex-appeal-o-meter, the strength-of-character-o-meter (measured by shaking hands with Uncle Sam), the Charlie Chaplin moving picture showcase and a number of old time peep shows.

You can bet that I'll be back, dear Shoppe, and this time with a fist-full of change.

Creamy crunchy February

2011-02-27T08:03:00.000-08:00

The February 2011 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Mallory from A Sofa in the Kitchen. She chose to challenge everyone to make Panna Cotta from a Giada De Laurentiis recipe and Nestle Florentine Cookies. (This second link will get you the panna cotta too.)

I made the basic panna cotta recipe linked above, and then topped it with a port wine gelee. My first gelee ever, and let me tell you--don't be afraid of it. Gelee is French for "adult Jell-O." (Or, with two cups of port in this recipe, this dessert is for adults. Maybe they aren't all that way. And to that I say, why not?) And man is it yummy.

I will confess, however, that the panna cotta pictured above is actually my second attempt. The first panna cotta was made on the same day as the florentines and it was made with the addition of pear puree and vanilla bean (like the recipe for the port gelee spells out). It tasted lovely, but, alas, was not meant to be. The panna cotta separated into an icky watery lower layer and a beautifully set whitish upper layer. Ick. I asked my fellow daring bakers what I did wrong, and received no help.

None. They may be daring, but they aren't helpful.

So then I poked about on the internets and learned that I haven't been giving gelatin the proper respect that it deserves. It is delicate, say the internets. Don't get it too hot. Don't get it too cold. Chill your dish first. Let it cool to room temperature before putting it in the fridge. Coo at it while it cools. It can sense your lackadaisical attitude, and when it does, it won't set properly just to prove a point.

Like the thugs on the corner, gelatin commands respect, yo.

So I was more careful the second time. And it worked a whole lot better. See above.

But the florentines. OH, the florentines.

If I have one piece of advice from this month's challenge (besides Respect Yo Gelatin) it is this: Get thee some florentine ingredients.

They are amazing, crispy, and luscious. They are also about the easiest cookies to make. Just throw everything in a bowl, stir, and plop little piles on a baking sheet with loads of room for them to spread out. You can get fancy with the chocolate, or you can dip, or spread, or just eat the cookie with a square of chocolate on top (which we did the first night because it was late and the panna cotta had separated and I just wasn't up for anything else. And it was just fine.)

By the way: I used Safeway brand milk chocolate bars, and I was scared and embarrassed to use grocery store chocolate but let me tell you: I am IN LOVE. So much cocoa butter in these puppies, you can't hold it without it melting immediately. It kicks Hershey's butt.

So there. This month I learned the following helpful lessons which I now pass to you:

Respect yo gelatin.
Make florentines.
Don't judge chocolate by its wrapper. (I mean, do. Read the ingredient list. Is cocoa butter featured heavily? Then buy it. Yum.)

To my sister, on the occasion of your birth

2011-02-20T19:04:00.000-08:00

Sending love, and warmth, and perhaps a bit of funky style to you and your neck this year.

And modeling it here, in case you have no idea what it is when you open it. It's a cowl, and I made it from the most beautiful organic cotton yarn in the most sister color there is; it's called walnut, but it's more purple than nutty. And it's so soft. And I hope you love it.

I found the yarn last year--my sister must have this!--and I've been thinking all of this time what to make with it. I only bought two skeins, and then it promptly stopped being carried by my local yarn store. So I was stuck with two skeins.

And then this cowl pattern, which I absolutely adore, and which I think might just dress up even the most plain long-sleave t-shirt on a day when you're feeling festive.

And festivity is what I wish for you this year--more to celebrate, more reasons to buy balloons, more streamers and confetti and fireworks and cupcakes. xxoo

Number 4

2011-02-19T16:17:00.000-08:00

I'm not a web designer. In fact, one of my lifelong goals is to never know enough html or css to have to make websites or answer questions. I can parse my way through a page of code and find the bits I need to edit--photo sizes and links and the like--but every time (and I mean every time) I open up Dreamweaver I have to go running to my web guy at work and plead forgiveness and ask him to fix whatever I just broke. (I'm not sure why he keeps installing Dreamweaver on my computers...)

But, given a little time, and a willingness to be okay with good enough, I finally made us a website. It's not going to win any awards, and it is missing a whole beak-load of examples of the amazing work that gavron has done, but it's a start, and it's happy enough that I can send people there without being embarrassed, which is the first step.

When your CSA keeps sending parsnips...

2011-02-15T16:34:00.000-08:00

You make a souffle.

It's true. A souffle out of parsnips and cheese and fresh sage leaves from the garden. And you eat it for brunch on a Sunday with coffee and chicken apple sausage. And you smile.

best. tart. ever.

2011-02-13T16:30:00.000-08:00

For the amazing dinner party my lovely husband threw for my birthday, I made a tart. The best tart I have ever made or had the privilege to eat. And let me tell you, I have made many a tart. MANY.

In fact, tarts were all I made for years, before I owned a rolling pin, and refused to make pie with its rolled-out crust. No, the tart was the perfect lazy-woman's dessert--all the joy of crust, but none of the rolling. (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about--let's just say this: when you make a sweet tart crust, you can just push the crust into the pan with your fingers. Yes, that means that I touched every part of that tart you just ate. You'll get over it.)

I've since mastered pie crust, but I still love a tart. And for some reason, in my many years of tart making, I never made this one. This chocolate pear custard tart with a pate sucre crust that had me feeding my husband (who was up to his elbows making three kinds of salsa) globs of the raw dough in order to keep myself from eating all of the extra. Sweet, creamy, amazing dough (and I think the secret here is not just butter and flour but confectioner's sugar) that's so soft you have to chill it in the pan for an hour before you can blind bake it.

Once you blind bake the crust, you chop unsweetened chocolate--if you are me you use a mix of super dark and dark--and then fan out the pears in lovely succession. Add to that a brilliant mix of custard--complete with a vanilla bean--and sprinkle with white sugar. Bake again until the whole thing is brown and crisp and screaming to be eaten. But don't eat it just yet. Let it cool a bit first, lest the whole thing doesn't set up correctly and/or someone burns his or her mouth and you have a lawsuit on your hands.

But I digress. I can't even explain to you how good this is. Get thee to a bookstore and buy In the Sweet Kitchen*. Make this tart. It will change your life.

*If you are a baker, you must go buy this book. The first half of the book is a compendium of sweet baking reference, of chemistry and explication you will find in no other recipe book. And the second half is filled with the most amazingly complex, but not difficult, recipes, including the one for this tart.

Something ugly this way comes.

2011-01-27T07:03:00.000-08:00

My very first Daring Bakers' challenge: January 2011. It works like this: the recipe and instructions are posted on the first of the month in a very exclusive/secret forum, the bakers dare to bake said challenge during the next 26 days, and then post their results on their own blogs on the 27th.

The January 2011 Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Astheroshe of the blog accro. She chose to challenge everyone to make a Biscuit Jaconde Imprime to wrap around an Entremets dessert.

HUH?

My thoughts exactly. Here's some background:

A jaconde imprime (French Baking term) is a decorative design baked into a light sponge cake providing an elegant finish to desserts/torts/entrements formed in ring molds. A jaconde batter is used because it bakes into a moist, flexible cake. The cake batter may be tinted or marbleized for a further decorative effect.

Entremets is an ornate dessert with many different layers of cake and pastry cream in a mold, usually served cold. (Think triffle in a mold vs. a glass bowl.)

And. Yeah. Mine's not that pretty.

Here's how it starts--with jaconde pattern paste, mixed from powdered sugar and butter and egg whites, and colored and put into a pastry bag and piped into a pattern on parchment on the up-turned bottom of your jelly roll pan. This goes into the freezer for 15 minutes until it's hardened through.

And then you make a sponge that goes over top of the paste and into a very hot oven for a very short time. It comes out looking like this:

Flipped over, it looks like this. Or, mine did. Yours might not be wrinkly like mine is, since I don't think it's supposed to be.

You then cut the finished jaconde to size, lining the edge of a bottomless mold. See here:

After that I was on my own to figure out how to fill it. So I made mousse: one with a pound of white chocolate and one with fresh blackberries and framboise. And then I filled the jaconde with three layers of the two mousses--white chocolate in the middle and the berry on the bottom and top. I tried for a layer of the extra sponge in the middle, but it was so thin it didn't have much structural integrity.

Lessons learned:

1) Go to Sur la Table and buy real baker's food coloring. The Betty Crocker stuff makes florescent stripes, and they're just not that appealing;

2) I guess I need to learn to make a mousse. It turns out I'm not a fan of mousse, so I've never bothered to perfect it...but mine ended up chunky and sad. Even after the double-boiling and the delicate stirring and the chilling. Chunky. Sad. (And so rich you couldn't eat it. And, dear readers, this is why I don't love a mousse. Three cups of heavy cream, plus two eggs and two egg yolks = too heavy to bother eating.)

3) Plan for garnish. I finished the dessert after a frantic 4 hours in the kitchen (I think I used every mixing bowl I own) and had nothing to put on top of the ugly thing to distract the eye from the unappealing chunks in the mousse. And, compared to the rest of the people who participate in Daring Bakers, I'm a serious amateur both in the baking arena and in the photographic styling. Time to up my game.

Tune back in on February 27 for next month's challenge. Here's hoping it's prettier. Or at least less rich and therefore edible.

Sweater curse, be damned.

2011-01-26T09:22:00.000-08:00

I'm knitting Joe a sweater. It's a birthday present, which is to say, you can't surprise the one you love (and live with) with a fully-formed sweater. Instead, he got a box of yarn for his birthday.

A potential gift.

A gift-in-progress, if you will.

There's a thing about knitting your significant other a sweater. A curse.

Sweaters take time, people. And they take yarn. LOTS of yarn.

And by the time you're done knitting said sweater, you could have gone out and bought three sweaters for the price of the one you completed. Plus, you'd have all those hours of knitting back too.

So. Knitting someone else a sweater is a true labor of love.

The curse goes like this: as soon as the sweater is done, so is the relationship.

And since I highly value my relationship, I have been reluctant to knit this man a sweater.

But, we've been through a lot over those 14 years we've been together.

So I decided to take the leap.

I'm deep in it. The back is complete, the two front panels are complete, and I'm half-way up the second sleeve. There will be a critical point, say, at the end of next week, where I put all of these pieces on a huge circular needle to complete the shoulders and neck, and that is the first time I'll be able to gauge whether this thing is going to fit him (and, therefore, whether or not I'm going to have to frog half the sweater). This will determine, as well, whether Joe gets to wear this sweater this winter or next winter.

Stay tuned.

The governor's tomb and a hole

2011-01-10T08:18:00.000-08:00

The first governor of Arizona, George W.P. Hunt, upon his wife's death in 1931, built a pyramid in which to entomb her, and--the best part really--completely covered it in white ceramic bathroom tiles.

He, along with four other family members, was eventually buried here as well.

The hilltop, including this pyramid, were later absorbed into Phoenix's Papago Park and this ugly iron fence was added to protect the...tomb? pyramid? integrity of the bathroom tile?

There's a lovely little parking lot right below it and a number of interpretive plaques that tell you about the Governor and the love his people have for him. You can walk all around the tomb/pyramid and take photos and generally love the fact that the world is big and huge and weird.

Straight across from the pyramid is a natural wonder, affectionately named Hole in the Rock. It's a fitting name, too, since it's a hole. In a rock.

This too has a rocky but generally cactus-free trail up and around the back of the rock to a place where climbing up to the hole is quite simple, assuming one has sturdy legs and good shoes. I don't have a photo of the hole from a distance, which I see now is a mistake, as you can't tell how impressive this hole is up close.

You can, however, see how impressive the greyhound and the husband are. So that's something.

Look here for the far-away view that I should have taken while up on the hill of the tomb.

Christmas Cake

2011-01-09T08:19:00.000-08:00

Joe's parents flew in to Arizona on Christmas evening, and we decided to greet them with a festive dinner. Living within the constraints of a limited kitchen (as in, there's no mixer) and not wanting to buy a bunch of ingredients that we'd never use up in the three weeks we're here, I opted for the simplest of desserts: a chocolate cake.

The meal was a lamb leg, marinated in chipotle, adobo, and lime accompanied by roasted root vegetables and a citrus/serrano pepper/cilantro salad. In keeping with the southwestern theme, I found this lovely (and adventurous) Mexican chocolate cake (balsamic vinegar in your cake, anyone?) online from Pink Bites. I also found a tiny tiny bundt pan in the cupboard! Home. Free.

I made the glaze from the recipe too (YUM). And then sprinkled pomegranate seeds on top.

Because nothing says Christmas like the juicy red garnet seeds of the pom. Nothing.

World's Largest

2011-01-07T08:09:00.000-08:00

Kokopelli.

The 32-foot tall, humpbacked, flute-playing god of fertility and harvest graces a strip mall in Camp Verde, AZ, containing a drive-thru Starbucks, a Verizon wireless store, and--wait for it--the Krazy Kokopelli Trading Post.

It was definitely worth the stop.

33 things to do before I turn 34

2011-01-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

~~play with the daring bakers. this is a year-long commitment, as you get kicked out of the secret daring club if you miss more than two months. hmm.~~ started here.
learn to roller skate backwards. (I'm not actually ever going to do this. Let's be honest. Maybe it would be better just to learn to skate competently forward.)
etch some glass. Like this.
~~make (or pay someone to make) a real gavron website.~~ done.
read more poetry.
make patchwork wall hangings.
provide pro bono graphic design work for a local charity.
keep playing Toy Society quarterly.
play with my niece.
bake with my nephew.
roast the coffee beans. (this is a repost from last year, but dammit, it's going to happen this year. I swear.)
draw. add watercolor to said drawing. repeat.
make brioche. this takes three days, people. and that is why, thus far, it has eluded me.
learn (and then do) to take better/prettier product shots. more light. more props. more patience.
~~make a ruffled shirt. one of these. (~~done) maybe this scarf, too.
spray paint the cuckoo clock.
knit weight covers for the cuckoo clock.
three words. bunting. stamp. roller.
~~go to ye olde curiosity shop. (how have I not made it there yet?)~~ done.
continue the search for Roadside America treasures
knit or sew outfits for the posable artist models.
next holiday season: make these walnut ornaments. heck. you might not have to wait until the holidays.
get tattooed. maybe.
make a cover for the sewing machine. the machine works so hard, shouldn't we keep it free from dog hair?
~~eat a croissant in paris.~~ done.
have some family portraits taken. family = me + j + t + roo
witness my friend sayra's wedding. (yippee!)
[<--- this space left intentionally blank.] leave space.
make injera. convince joe to make food to eat with said injera.
look to nature to solve a problem. (thanks to Second Sam for this one.)
continue working on Not a Book.
find a vintage typewriter to call my own. (this is a repeat too.)
find...and note...small bits of joy along the way.

World's Largest

2011-01-04T15:24:00.000-08:00

Kachina Doll.

And it's for sale, people. So if you wanted a photo or two with it, you'd better hurry.

To find it, look here.

In other news, we also visited the America's Largest Sundial, though if you've been following along, you know that we recently visited another sundial, and it was bigger than this one. (That one, however, only works one day a year, so maybe it doesn't count.) This one is adorably in the center of the town of Carefree, Arizona, and it is festooned in yellow holiday lights.

The Roadside America app may be my new best friend. Just sayin.

More. Bunting.

2010-12-27T14:20:00.000-08:00

This time for the niece and the nephew for Christmas. (Nana already bought Brendan an apron, and Ani will just have to wait.) The bunting spells out their names and adds a couple end flags for extra festive fun.

Red, blue, and yellow for the boy.

With stars. (And buttons, beads, and embroidery.)

Pink, purple, and sage for the girl.

With flowers.

(And buttons, beads, and embroidery.)

I don't know that kids love wall hangings for Christmas (it probably ranks up there with socks), but hopefully they'll cut me a break. I just assumed that they have all the plastic noise-making toys they could ever dream of. And everyone needs a little decor now and then.

Merry Christmas you two. Your auntie loves you!

Christmas presents, or how I made 11 aprons in two weeks

2010-12-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

This year, 11 people close to my heart received an apron for Christmas. I was so impressed with that one I made for Joe that I couldn't fathom not making more. (I am officially over it now, though, so don't you worry.)

I picked out custom fabric for each recipient, right down to the coordinating pocket fabric. That was maybe the most fun part--picture me and Joe in the fabric store, arms piled to eyeballs with bolts of fantastic patterned fabric, trying to keep them all straight for the woman unlucky enough to be working the cutting table at the time. And then the hardware. And then the twill tape.

Once home, after pre-washing, of course, I measured, cut, ironed, pinned, and sewed until my fingers were raw and the dogs were covered in errant scraps of thread.

And then, because I love customization--the idea that something was made just for you--I embroidered a little swatch for each one bearing the initials (or nickname) of the recipient.

In keeping with the kitchen theme, Joe and I mixed up some amazing hot cocoa, made our own vanilla extract, and made more marshmallows for our gift list as well. But more on that later.

Merry Christmas all. And here's to peace and abundance in the new year.

I'm obsessed

2010-12-25T19:00:00.000-08:00

with bunting. Ob. Sessed.

But it's just so jolly and cute. (And, if you'll remember, it brings the party.)

This year for homemade ornaments (a yearly tradition I forcefully gift upon my family and friends), I have made tiny tree bunting in delicious holiday colors.

Simple as cutting up a heap load of triangles, sewing their sides, turning them right-side out, ironing flat, and stitching into skinny bias tape. This required much patience, as the entire project was very small. This caused a lot of squinting and hunching over my sewing machine, and a few exasperated seam rips, but the end result is definitely worth it.

For fear that my gift receivers would have no idea what tiny bunting is for, I crafted these instructions:

And then, because I can't leave Christmas scraps in my possession, I made each bunting its own tiny draw string bag, fashioned from this expert tutorial from Skip to My Lou. (Note: these bags are neither as easy or as fun to make as they might look. They are, however, as CUTE as they look, so I persevered.)

Merry Christmas all!

Arizona Christmas

2010-12-24T11:57:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Arizona is going to be a bit understated, since we're playing it low maintenance style. And it's just us until late on the Day of the Tree, when Joe's folks will fly in for some super-fantastic family time.

Since there's never too much of a good thing, I crocheted a passel of snowflakes, using that same pattern for the packages, in a variety of festive colors, and chain stitched them together to make a garland.

In a fit of sweetness, Joe's folks bought a four-and-a-half foot scotch pine for our merry pleasure, and it was waiting for us to unpack when we arrived. It's covered in real pine cones and pine cone-shaped lights, which is adorable (and which you can't see in the photo below. You'll have to trust me.).

Add a few boxes of shatterproof ornaments (important when you have the following deadly mixture: 1) stone floors, 2) no tree skirt, 3) two tall dogs with happy tails) and you've got instant festivity.

Here's hoping that your house is also festive but that the decorating didn't make you frantic. I'm sort of in love with low maintenance Christmas.

And now I'm off to take my second walk of the day and hunt for quail, roadrunners, and rabbits.

Road trip

2010-12-23T11:54:00.001-08:00

This year we're taking a much needed holiday away from Seattle. We have available to us a home in northeast Scottsdale, Arizona, and because it's not supposed to rain much there, we packed the dogs in our little red car and drove down.

Drove? Yes.

Roody and T show off their road trip skillz

The dogs turned out to be fabulous road trip companions. We laid the back seat down, packed it with two dog beds, and the dogs were thrilled to enjoy the ride.

I bought the Roadside America app for my iPhone, and am currently trying to cross off as many "offbeat tourist attractions" as possible. The first one: the sundial bridge in Redding, CA.

It rained through the bulk of our drive through northern California. (Except the tiny sun break we got on the second morning, above, where we raced to see the bridge.)

12 pm marker. It should be noted that this sundial only works on June 21, the summer solstice.

But the rain didn't stop there. It rained over our entire drive through state of California, through the Olive Capital of America and the Artichoke Capital of the Universe.

[It should be noted that if I never again have to drive through Las Angeles in the pouring rain, I will be forever grateful.]

Southern Californians don't actually know about driving in the rain at high speeds. And the steering-wheel clutching, lip-biting, I-can't-see-the-road-from-all-the-spray driving didn't make the mood worthy of pulling over and photographing the offbeat.

And thus, we checked off only one item from Roadside America on our three day drive.

Oh well, there's always the drive home.

It's a wrap

2010-12-22T11:09:00.000-08:00

This year I went with wrapping paper in non-traditional reds and greens.

For each package, I crocheted a gorgeous snowflake (using the best step-by-step pattern on the internet; thanks Lucy!) using white yarn from my stash. (They're supposed to be blocked to get their full lacy goodness, but I went with a softer, lazier version.)

The packages are tied with 99-cent twine from IKEA, which comes in black and white. I told Joe we were going to use the black twine on the Christmas presents and he was incredulous. I convinced him that it would be okay. And look--it is. Trust me.

For the tags, we used artist's shrink plastic. (Remember Shrinky Dinks? Go to your local art supply store and get your own adult version!) (OR, a quick googling will teach you to make your own shrink film out of #6 plastics!)

Take out your decorative scissors (they make lovely edges), your hole punches (we used a circle and a star), and your permanent markers. Draw trees and snowmen and snowflakes and swirls.

Bake. Let cool. Thread your twine through the hole, and have some more egg nog.

Anika turns one!

2010-12-20T12:55:00.000-08:00

And, in a act of universe turning in just the right way, I got to see her smiling face for 19 hours this weekend. She is newly mobile--walking, standing, falling, walking again. A really good sport about it all too.

In fact, this baby is the best sport I've met in a long time. Exhausted from an early flight into Seattle, and working from something like four hours of sleep, this little girl smiled all day, even on Santa's lap. (Okay, for the first few photos...and then she was done. Very done.)

Because she received a knitted mobile from me on the occasion of her birth, she hadn't yet been the recipient of a knitted sweater (unlike her boisterous big brother, who received a sweater while still in utero, which I can't link to, because it was created before the inception of this blog!).

This one-year-old present should rectify that situation.

This is the knitted kimono sweater, from this pattern, which costs money but is definitely cute enough to spend the few dollars to have it for your very own. Knitted in KnitPicks superwash merino, allowing it to be both warm and woolen and WASHable. This is important when you're still learning how to walk, feed yourself, and generally keep your hands clean.

A fun little project to knit, including the adorable flowers. I ~~have~~ had no idea how big a one-year old is was (and I know that this particular one-year old is a bit tall for her age), and I have no idea how big this sweater is, but it's the one-year-old size, since I started on the two-year-old size, but it looked big enough for a kindergartener half way through. [But it was perfect, as you can see!]

(Just once I'd like to knit something just once. Not once and a half, not twice, not three times. I've learned though: my propensity to start things before actually measuring the gauge coupled with my perfectionism means that I have to rip things out a lot. To deal with this fact, I repeat this mantra in my head while I'm ripping: I will be infinitely patient with myself. Infinitely.)

But back to Anika. Happy first birthday sweet one! Thanks for stopping by to smile at me!

For Joe

2010-12-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

He cooks, and by cooks I mean crafts, a meal for us every night. And because he's an elaborate chef, he gets his clothes dirty in the process of splashing homemade chicken stock here, and reducing with red wine there.

And so, with heartfelt love and a bit of humor (I mean just LOOK at the fabric!), I made Joe an apron to wear with pride and to protect his duds from grease and flying au jus (complete with embroidered initials, lest anyone wonder to whom it belongs).

So far it's working. He wears it nightly, and no longer complains of phantom greasy spots appearing on his shirts. Also, he looks adorable in it.

And, as you can see above, even Roody approves.

And now for the part

2010-11-23T10:58:00.000-08:00

where I apologize for making things behind the scenes but not sharing any of them with you, my dear Internets, until after the Jolly Guy comes.

It actually physically hurts a little to think of all the swell stuff I'm making...and how I can't tell you about it. Just know this: when it's all said and done, you'll get to see, and you'll be jolly too.

In the meantime, I have only one more month to finish the list. Must get a move on. And then, I'll have to create a new list. Thirty-three things and all that. That's a lot of things. Get your submissions in early, in case you want to tell me what to do next year.

if i had a magic wand

2010-11-10T11:00:00.000-08:00

I wouldn't whisk myself off to Paris or ask for a mansion or a Porsche.

Instead, I would wave my magic wand and--POOF--this would be the result:

My house would sparkle. Glisten. The magic wand would have cleaned beyond human ability. All the cracks and the crevices and the four-year build up of ick that I can't even see--gone, and in their place--shine.
The laundry would be folded. Not just once, but as soon as it came out of the dryer. The magic wand would create self-folding laundry.
I would own another off-street parking spot. Fewer hit-and-run accidents would be perpetuated on the car that has to sit nightly on the street like so much forgotten recycling.
There would be a few hundred more pounds of pea gravel in my back yard. I have a tiny back yard, and right now I have three huge (HUGE) dogs pooping in it a few times a day. Every time you pick up dog poop (sorry for the TMI) you pick up a handful of rocks. And then you eventually (four years later) need more rock. However, it isn't prudent for my husband or me to carry 80 pound bags of rocks up the 17 stairs it takes to get to my house in order to re-rock the back. (See 9 and 10, below.) So there's not enough rock, and the ground is beginning to appear below. This is Seattle, and the rain has started. Now I have 12 (HUGE) muddy paws and no energy to wipe them. Should I just pick up a day laborer at Home Depot to carry my rock? Put an ad in Craig's list? How do people manage these things?
My credit card debt would disappear. And magically, in my savings account, would be that pile of money that Suze Orman now says that we all need stashed away: six month's salary. Then, when the car gets hit (for the third time in six weeks), or the dog gets sick, or I have to have surgery again, we won't have to put it on the credit card.
My house would be well-constructed. Turns out in the housing boom not all the Ts were being crossed, nor the Is dotted. It also turns out that our condo developer had a less than adequate insurance policy, which means we were less than adequately compensated for the less than stellar construction. Which means we can't afford to fix all the problems.
I would be able to refinance my home. Turns out too many of my neighbors have been foreclosed upon, and the lenders don't see our condos as worthy investments, which means that the Fed can lower interests rates until the free-range cows come home, but I can't lower my monthly payment.
My depression would lift, and in its place, a happiness and contentment would settle in. With all the free time I have now that my house is clean and my laundry folds itself, I would make more art.
My husband would be well. Free to climb mountains and practice martial arts and run the hounds around the neighborhood. [he has this. and the outlook is grim.]
I would be well. Mentally (see number 7, above) but also physically. Too many physical issues to get into right now.

What would you wish for?

sweetness sneaks in

2010-11-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

One of the few delights in my life right now is my semi-monthly produce box from Klesick Family Farms. I get the Northwest box, which provides me with a veritable medley of local organic produce all ripe and ready and sparkling twice a month. It's nothing short of amazing to learn for the first time what's in season when, locally, and to hold (and eat) stuff you'd never find (or buy) in a store.

Meet Seckel pears, tiny and adorable, sweet and juicy, while still providing that crunch you want from a pear. Where do these things come from? Why can't they be at my ghetto Safeway?

And where can I get more?

I'm not waving, I'm drowning

2010-10-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

When I check the health insurance bills from my psychiatrist, down at the bottom, under where all the money stuff is spelled out, there's a diagnosis code: Major Depressive Disorder.

And it's never been so major as it is right now. It's all I can do to keep my head above water. I'm deep in the throes of mourning--and for what isn't really important. The important part is the process of letting go--something for which we have very few play books in this country.

My therapist has encouraged me to learn to "live in sadness."

And so that is what I do. I cuddle my dogs and my husband, I make soup and try to give myself a break about the dog hair balls in every corner, the pile of dirty laundry that's now so big that the foster dog thinks it's his bed, and the dusty dusty shelves. And I cry. A lot. Every day. For about six weeks now.

I'm a believer in feelings as energy. They must be released. They must be moved. I've experienced first-hand how stuck energy can become illness and physical pain.

Want to live in sadness with me? First things first. You'll need to start clearing your schedule. Try not to do anything that forces you to pretend that you're okay unless it pays your mortgages [read: go to work. try to work. take sick time if you have it when the work is too much]. Otherwise, plan to hang out at home.

Here's my living in sadness soundtrack:

Joshua Radin (not his new stuff. only old)
Sufjan Stevens
Joanna Newsome
Iron & Wine
The Weepies
Alexi Murdoch
The Decemberists

Living in sadness foods:

Chewy red wine
Wild rice soup
Hot spiced apple cider
Golden Grahams
Bread pudding

Living in sadness itinerary:

Cry
Knit
Spoon with a greyhound
Spoon with a spouse (until one of two greyhounds forces himself between the two of you)
Stare at ceiling, wall, or floor
Cry more
Walk the dogs [even in the rain; even though the sun sets an hour before you get home from work]
Contemplate doing some laundry
Get out the crayons
Talk about the sadness, the grief, the fear
Watch mindless television
Go to sleep
Repeat

One of the crappy things about depression is that it makes everything un-fun. There is absolutely no pleasure left in my life.

My favorite things in the world--sitting amongst my friends eating really great food, having really great conversation over really great wine, and I'm floating above it all thinking, Is this fun?

Nope. Not un-fun. But not fun. There is no such thing as fun.

For now.

The party starts here.

2010-10-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

Take out your old magazines (or the catalogs you got in the mail today. Pick a color or two (or don't). Cut out triangles of said color(s). Attach to string (or the yarn your foster dog unraveled and dragged all over the house). Hang on mantle, over doorway, or across bookcases. Instant party.

P.S. This is from the non-book by Keri Smith, who, by the way, has a new book out too, beautifully titled Mess.

Number 29: or how I got blisters on the tip of my middle finger

2010-10-11T20:50:00.000-07:00

the croquembouche still life

The croquembouche. (Croak-em-BOOSH.) A French dessert made in honor of our (better late than never) Octoberfest-themed dinner party.

Ten people in our tiny kitchen.

A pile of caramel cream-stuffed cream puffs coated in crunchy caramel and stacked with care.

A cascade of spun sugar sloping down the side.

One word: yum.

It's work though, I gotta tell you. This is no one-bowl cake recipe.

There's the pate au choux, which makes your arm ache from stirring in egg after egg after egg. Then there's the piping of the choux paste, into tiny cream puffs, which are baked for twenty minutes, during which you must lower the oven temperature and keep believing that they're going to rise and be amazing.

the puffs, fresh from the oven

The puffs cool while you make the caramel cream--which starts as carmel (candy thermometer anyone?) to which you add heavy cream and then more heat. Off the heat you add sour cream and vanilla and then cool the contraption for at least two hours (which is just long enough to clean up your dirty kitchen before making it sticky again.)

After the cooling, you whip more heavy cream until it's stiff, and then you fold the chilled carmel into it. Again comes out the pastry bag, and you are piping cream into the puffs using an improvised decorational tip since you can't find your filling tip. (boo.) The cream is separating in the pastry bag because your hand is too hot. You panic. You whip the cream some more; you think you have saved the day. You haven't. You must continually hand-whip the cream. You feel your arm may never recover.

You pull out an ice water bath for the cream and think that you are brilliant--until the whole thing goes to hell. And then you're whipping cream to add a bit of the failed, runny caramel cream to, hoping that it will be thick enough to stay in the tiny tiny puffs. It is. You are triumphant, momentarily.

And then you are making more caramel, on the stove, which you are swirling and watching but not stirring, because you have already learned today that stirring is no way to make sugar caramelize. And then you are dipping the filled puffs in the caramel (their top sides first) and even though EVERY recipe you looked at online warned you not to burn yourself, there you go--burning. Blistering. On the top of your middle finger.

Luckily, you just happen to have an ice bath prepared to stop the caramel from cooking, so you dunk your finger into the bath and feel a bit of relief. You use the tongs for the rest of the dipping.

the spun sugar waterfall, or the result of the attempt thereof.

You dip the 50 puffs head-first. You let the caramel set on parchment paper. You have to keep running back to the stove to warm up the caramel lest it leave whispery-fine spiderwebs of sugar behind itself as you move across your workspace--and then you, and everything around you, is wrapped in sugar strands.

When the caramel hats on the puffs are set, you dip them bum-side into the caramel, and this is when--finally--you begin to construct the cone of puffs that is the final dessert.

And this is where your ingenuity from earlier (whipped cream with a bit of failed caramel cream added) begins to fail--the heat from the caramel is making the puffs that house the lesser cream melt and puddle unto themselves.

Don't worry, just dab up the drips and proceed. This dessert is gonna rock your guests' socks.

Crunchy, creamy, and such fun to eat, we at first pretended to be civilized and use forks, but eventually abandoned them in favor of our fingers. This is a tactile dessert--get your hands on a puff and yank it free, then crunch down the hardened caramel and let the cream fill your mouth.

Roody's sweater

2010-10-09T17:20:00.000-07:00

Just chillin in my new sweater. NBD.

Finally! After two huge frogging sessions, the greyhound coat (that is hereby an XXXL and an XX-long--is finished! And, most importantly, it fits!

Stupid flash, but adorable dawg.

Here you can see the six buttons I added to the side panel. His side is long...and it requires a lot of buttons!

Also, I feel that I should note here that Roody is a very difficult subject to photograph. He rarely holds still, thus the roll of film (okay, it's digital, but you get the idea) showcasing three blurry dogs and one blurry sweater.

ugh. and also dogs.

2010-10-07T12:38:00.000-07:00

Depression sucks. Can I get an amen?

I'm deep in the throes of it again. And this time, instead of giving up, I'm trying to push through. Find a tiny speck of joy in each day.

It's not always easy, but I've got this to say: it's a whole lot easier with dogs around. (It's hard to sit and wallow with such a hilarious tongue around the house.)

I think I forgot to mention that we got a new dawg, who we've come to call Roody. I did start knitting him a sweater, but I never properly introduced him.

Meet Roody

At six years old, he's just about middle-aged. He's a retired racing greyhound, and probably the softest dog ever. (He also radiates heat, and loves to spoon, so he's an ideal winter bedmate.)

He loves to cuddle, play tug-of-war, and pull like hell on the leash (life is very exciting). Originally named Bella Knight by his breeder, his racing nickname was Rogue, but when he came to us in late June he didn't know his name. Fearing that Rogue sounded a lot like "no," and running on the theory that dog names should have two syllables (commands have one), we changed his name to Roody.

Greyhounds aren't really barkers, but they do howl when the fire trucks race by with their sirens on. Greyhound enthusiasts call this howling "rooing," thus the spelling. Roody, however, is not much of a roo-er. (Oh well.)

He sleeps about 20 hours a day, and spends the rest of the time allowing you to scratch him, eating, and going on long walks. He loves a tennis ball and a stuffed toy. He loves bones. He loves people. He loves other dogs. He would really really love to chase a squirrel or rabbit.

Joe and I adopted Roody after doing a considerable amount of research into greyhounds. If you remember, we used to be home to a saluki/husky mix, and while we loved the fur out of Roxy, she was a challenging dog. The things that made her lovable--the cuddling, the rooing, the fierce loyalty--these are all qualities of sight hounds (her saluki side). And, knowing that we were never going to pay for a pure-bred dog, adopting a greyhound sounded like the next best option.

For a donation fee, we can give a home to a dog in need. We also get the pure-bred guarantee of personality traits (greyhounds are bred to be friendly, social, pack animals), health traits (they're the only breed with no evidence of hip dysplasia), the zany puppy-spirit that lasts into old age, and the two best traits of greyhounds: the side tongue (see top picture) and the cockroach (see most recent picture).

It's those things that help me keep my perspective. Love from things that are soft and furry, and time spent sticking my tongue out at the world.

Number 4: Toy Society Drop Number 3

2010-10-03T19:26:00.001-07:00

In the shadow of Calder's eagle at the Olympic Sculpture Park, in Seattle, I left this tiny amigurumi owl, wearing his lovely scalloped breast feathers and hoping for a fun home.

Here he is all dressed up and ready to go, tied to a comfortable and coordinating chair. Below, you'll see an artsy shot depicting Mr. Owlette's view of the fantastical sculpture.

Number 7: Take one

2010-10-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

Big ups to my mother who bought the ~~book~~ for me. And big ups to Keri Smith, who created the ~~book~~ and gave me some fun things to do with my time.

Thing number one. Cut the page out, affix it to some cardboard, and mail to a friend. I'm out of double-sided tape, so I used embroidery floss. *swoon*

Number 27

2010-09-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

Made it to the reflexology path at Bastyr today. Needed a bit of fresh air and some healing energy. Tucked in the back of the extensive medicinal herb garden, the reflexology path is a wonder to behold.

It's a little ouchy at first, but the signs promise that as you move toward wellness the path will be less uncomfortable. (Sounds pretty right on metaphorically, doesn't it?)

Composite Construction Cards

2010-09-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

because I like alliteration. And I also like using double-sided tape.

And sometimes, when you're making a Father's Day card, you need a sailboat for your father and some great waves for the inside.

And when you're making a card for your three-year-old nephew who loves construction equipment (and trucks, and cars, and planes), you need a digger.

And because I'm here to put in a plug for envelope templates. They're the best. Just trace, cut, and glue. Reuse old wrapping paper. Use new wrapping paper. Adorable. Every time.

Also. I think that these count as collages (number 8). The best kind of collages: the kind you give away. :)

Roody's sweater: A work in progress

2010-09-01T12:33:00.000-07:00

You might remember that I already made this sweater, for Roxy, back in the day. And now here I go again: making a sweater for a dawg. Again, this is something I used to frown upon: dogs in sweaters. But now, here I go, becoming a lover of sight hounds, who are skinny and in need of said covering.

Luckily Roody is a fantastic sport. I swear that you could dress this dog and he wouldn't mind. Socks and an apron if that's your fancy. He'll wear them all day.

That being said, after this trying-on session, I learned that most of the sweater-in-progress needed to be unraveled and adjusted. His neck is long, long, long and and his chest is deep and wide. Alas, this is what happens when you knit like crazy on a road trip without examining the dog in the process.

In other news, I think the color is perfect for him. It's called Squirrel Heather.

Surprise ball: or how to amuse me in the future

2010-08-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

So, after seeing this post over at hula's, I realized that I too could make a surprise ball, and it might just be the best present ever. (Okay, so mine's no where NEAR as pretty as the real kind. But I tried.)

I mean, if you're me presents are all about the anticipation.

The unwrapping.

The wondering what's inside while you're untying the ribbon, ripping through the paper (no careful unfolding for me), and prying open the box.

(Which is why I'll consider you a cheater if you hand me a present in a gift bag.)

The surprise ball makes the anticipation even greater.

And anticipation is what this girl is about. (Even the yellow dawg got in on the fun.)

So. To celebrate my friend Sayra's completion of grad school and her proper naming of Dr. Sayra, Joe and I took a trip to the best store ever to buy her presents. And then a trip to the dollar store to get some crepe (guess how much it costs?).

And so, I promptly wrapped the trinkets one by one in the folds and creases of three rolls of crepe. Dr. Sayra simply had to unwind the crepe (and untie some ribbons along the way) to find a posse of tiny trinkets (e.g. tiny plastic nuns), fun items (e.g. cupcake lipgloss), and useful and practical items (e.g. emergency underwear).

Plus, it was instant party for the tall dawg, who was laying beneath the ball.

Nine years

2010-08-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary to you!

You're my biggest supporter, best friend, favorite traveling companion, personal chef, lover, partner, constant companion, sounding board, support system, second half.

And I'm so grateful.

And then he was 3.

2010-08-10T17:45:00.000-07:00

My favorite little boy is about to turn three. And though he got a sweater last year, this year I'm providing a bit more interactive fun.

breakfast.

Brendan loves a car and a truck. But I thought, since his parents are both stellar cooks, that he might want to have some super fun cooking play time as well.

fruit.

Cut to two months of fervent crocheting later, and I think we've got a respectable line up of dishes for him to cook.

lunch.

As luck would have it, he recently became the proud owner of a kitchen, (complete with microwave and dishwasher) but no play food as of yet. (He's been cooking matchbox cars. I hear that they're very high in protein.)

dinner.

This might be the most fun I've had with yarn in a long time. Short and simple projects, each fun enough to keep my attention for a few hours, and then--poof--over.

party time.

My bible was this book (which I checked out from the library three times. Yep. Three. Plus the renewals. And the fines.)

sushi.

And ravelry, of course. And google.

burger time.

summer picnic.

dessert.

ice cream!

Anyway, you always take a risk when you make stuff for kids (since they're honest), but here's hoping he becomes the best imaginary chef around.

Number 32

2010-07-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

Finally remembered the blanket!

The meal: Taco bus. The beverages: Gourmet beer from the best beer shop ever. The companions? Our fabulous friends from out-of-town, Sayra and Cory, plus two fabulous (and local) dogs. The view: Sunset over Mt. Rainier.

Number 33: Or that thing I never did put on the list

2010-07-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

33. Buy roller skates. Skate.

My sister received a pair of roller skates when she was young, and I was (as is still the custom) even younger. Our basement at the time was unfinished, which left a cement floor on which was centered a big braided oval rag rug. It was around (and around) this rag rug that my sister skated. I followed, though skateless. (There's a photo of this. I'm in socks, pretending to skate. Pretending, I want to say, is not the same.)

Cut to junior high, when everyone I knew owned rollerblades and was highly skilled on them. I spent the last day of school at French Park on a friends' skates, learning that I could skate given enough coaxing and safety equipment. I was in love. And yet, so scared.

I never did buy my own set, for the following reasons: 1) fear. I hate learning new things that involve bodily harm when you screw them up. 2) embarrassment. I hate being new at something. 3.) fear of embarrassment. I hate looking dumb in public. And by dumb, I mean visibly afraid--read: freaking out. (see number 1, above).

Cut to my 32nd year. I am now the proud owner of a pair of quad roller skates. And even though I've skated about 6 miles in the two days I've been on them thus far, I still don't know how to stop. But that's what the grass is for, right? (Or that park bench. Or the trash can. Etc.)

When I can stop shaking long enough, I look almost competent on them. But that's not really the point. Competence.

I think the point is this: learning new things is hard. For everyone (for me even more). Doing things that utilize body coordination and balance are especially difficult for me (I blame the fact that I'm six feet tall and my center of gravity is somewhere around neck-level). But this is something I have ALWAYS wanted to do. And I'm finally old enough (read: I've finally stopped caring enough) to try it out.

My sister (original owner of quad skates, see above) said she was so proud of me. And that I should be proud too. And add it to my list so I could cross it off. So there. Done.

Love letter to Fremont: Number thirty

2010-06-21T17:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Fremont Solstice Parade:

I love you. I really do.

And not just because you begin each summer with your heraldic cry of roaring naked bicyclists festooned in full-body paint (or not).

But because you have the best rules of all parades:

All floats must be human-powered.
No written or printed words or logos.
No animals (except service animals).
No real weapons or fire.

(It's those top two that make you so spectacular. You allow for people to build floats pushed by teams of people. You insist on no "sponsorship" floats or elected officials waving from convertibles. You ensure that your entire parade is hand-made, hand-built, and foot-powered.)

Also, I love you because you are put on yearly by the Fremont Arts Council, a group of people with a building in Fremont that plan this party all year long. And because you invite the entire area to come and play.

[Want to join the African dancers in next year's parade? Want to learn to walk on stilts? Ride a unicycle? Build enormous puppets? Come to the (free!) classes held at the Council building during the year. Come one come all.

Not a joiner, but want to build a battleship around your recumbant bike and ride in the parade? You are most welcome.]

Fremont Solstice Parade: You are the best, most arty, totally nuts, completely family-friendly (assuming you can deal with nudity) parade ever.

And even though the sun rarely shows, you still mark the beginning of summer. And if nothing else, that ritual is critical to the wellbeing of we overly soggy Seattlelites. So thank you.

With love,
Cupcake

Come and Play (Number 17)

2010-05-30T14:13:00.000-07:00

A string of tiny flags, each their own mini quilt complete with color, texture, messy edges, studded with buttons from Button Button (where you can buy a pound of buttons for $4 Canadian).

[click on the photo above to enlarge.]

My studio thanks me, and I, in turn, thank Dottie Angel for the inspiration.

Honestly, I may never go back to clean seams and perfect stitches.

Sit. Stay. (number 18)

2010-05-18T11:46:00.000-07:00

Because I love a collage.

Because I had a number of coordinating swatches from Joe's past life in textiles, and because I just couldn't get rid of the pillow forms because I knew they could be so great.

Because when you come to our house, I want you to sit. And stay.

thirty-one! (and 28.)

2010-05-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

Finally! I buckled down and did it.

And it only took two hours, but it was a matter of repainting the "project room" and creating, in its place, a studio, complete with computers and guest table and a dawg bed and room for the sewing machine. Oh, and finding the time, the black fabric from my stash, and the patience to learn something new.

The something new? Mitered corners, baby. They're both easier and harder than they look.

Big ups to the blogosphere for showing me the ropes, specifically Skip to My Lou.