ensconced

Still at the farm right now — reading my new Christmas books, doing my (not-so-new) Christmas knitting, and playing with my in-laws' new-to-me kitten.


More later, when I return to my normal life.

happy Christmas!

All of the Christmas knitting is done, all of the Christmas gifts are wrapped; we are packed and ready to go.


Well, almost. I should probably leave work, first.

The plan is Ottawa tonight and tomorrow, the farm after that, and we shall return to Toronto sometime just before the new year. I shall be working on my log cabin blanket (it's coming along ... slowly), and this:


Colour-stranded mittens for me (they are Hedda Knits' Joie du Printemps mittens; the name is slightly ironic considering the season, but I suppose it gives me hope. The yarn is Spud & Chloë Fine.) I'm actually much further along than this, and I'm very pleased and excited by how well it's going (and I'm really hoping I didn't just jinx it).

So, a very merry Christmas to you, if you celebrate it, and a very happy solstice and well-earned long weekend to you, if you don't. Whichever it is, I hope your holidays are filled with lovely friends, excellent food, and wine good enough to accompany both.

killer gingerbread, take III

Oof. Today Pd woke up with a possible pinched nerve in his back, George-the-car turned out to have a flat tire, I was late for work, and it was cold, cold cold. It wasn't a bad day, exactly, but it dragged. A lot. I'm not looking terribly forward to Christmas but I am impatient for the vacation that comes after. To me, the best part about Christmas is how everything sort of stops for two weeks — work slows down (as everyone is on vacation), normal activities like team sports suspend for the season, and everybody is just that extra bit friendlier. (Well, almost everyone. Sworn nemeses get bitchier.)

I also like the gifts. It's not the trend to say so, in these austere times, but I like getting prezzies. I like seeing what other people think I might like, or discovering things I never knew existed. Those are my criteria for choosing gifts for other people. I don't care for the consumption part of it, but being forced to think deeply about other people, and showing that you care — even if, sometimes, it is with consumer goods — that can't be all bad, can it?

Anyway. To the gingerbread houses!

In line with my habit of overpreparing, if somewhat preposterously, for everything, we went to Bulk Barn and bought extra candy for the kits. I subsequently divided them into five roughly equal boxes:


Offhand, they had mint chocolate chips, red and green "Christmas" Smarties, jelly beans, Reese's pieces, sugar-free jujubes, Licorice All Sorts, and miniature candy canes. The black boxes are take-out containers from Spring Rolls. (The glass one is because we didn't have enough — we'd gotten rid of our old containers in the move, and I had forgotten to stockpile them through the year.) I was — as always — a little bit worried about whether or not we had enough candy. To give you an idea of how utterly naïve that was ... I still have about 80% of the candy sitting in my house. (One box wasn't used at all, and I consolidated all of the others.)

First up: the children's house (one of two, but I didn't get a picture of the other before it was given away, with gratitude, to one of the parents). Pd and I are of the age now where our friends have toddlers, and this year they were old enough to participate (with adult supervision, of course):


Adult supervision turned out to have been necessary, because when our friends are in parent-mode, they read instructions. When left to their own devices, they ... well. Don't.

When they say that the icing must set for 10 minutes, they're not joking around
Or, they revert to frat boys (and girls).



Meanwhile, a friend of ours chose a smaller canvas:


He later flattened and moulded a piece of caramel into a vest/cardigan (which I regret we did not get a picture of, but by the time I realised we had missed it, the snowman had started melting). It found an appropriate home as the guardian of the requisite "perfect" house:


Sadly, I only contributed very little this year — I was too busy in the kitchen, and then in the drink. (Let's be honest, here.) But I think they did an excellent job without me. I especially like the marshmallow "smoke."

Of course, all parties have a morning after, and this is what we faced on ours:


It's not as bad as it looks, although getting frosting off the extra-long dining table is exactly as bad as it sounds.

my problem is not the lack of preparation.

We had our annual gingerbread house-decorating party this weekend — although, as Pd pointed out, this time it was less of a gingerbread-decorating party than a party that happened to have an overabundance of candy in it. Nonetheless: there was gingerbread, there was the killer eggnog, and there was panic in the kitchen. That's about par for the course.

Because I am me, I made a schedule for the food, including how long things should be in the oven, and what order they should go in, and approximate times for everything. I printed it all very neatly onto Post-Its and stuck them to my cookbook holder in the kitchen:


I felt very secure and proud that this year, everything would be happy in the kitchen — people would not take the killer eggnog on an empty stomach, and there would be no traffic jam at the oven at 9 o'clock, caused by drunk and ravenous partyers trying to cram as many boxes of frozen appetizers into the oven as possible. It was going to be good.

The reality was a little ... different. To whit, Pd and I had the following conversation about an hour into the party:

Me: (somewhat in dispair) I had this whole schedule, and now it's just full of crap.
Pd: I know, sweetie.
Me: CRAP!
Pd: Your schedule was completely unrealistic.
Me: Then why didn't you say something when I showed it to you yesterday?
Pd: I didn't want to discourage you.

Bah. But, to show you what he meant, and because I like to document the full extent of my own massive fail whenever possible, this is what I served:

1. Home-made pizza, cut into small slices
2. Smoked salmon and smoked tuna, on cream cheese and toasted baguette
3. Panini sandwiches
4. Bruschetta (ditto)
5. Roasted garlic (with bread)
6. Bacon-wrapped sausages
7. Standard cheese and pate plate
8. Baked brie (camembert, actually) with phyllo and chutney

And this is what I have the ingredients for in my refrigerator (or freezer), having run out of time to actually make them:

9. Meatballs
10. Crab cakes
11. Garlicky shrimp with vermouth
12. Chocolate fondue
13. The other baked brie

I made everything from scratch, except for the meatballs. That may have been a tactical error. I had a lot of help — some volunteered, some conscripted — but apparently trying to push the first 7 items out of my kitchen, within two and a half hours, while hosting, was somewhat unreasonable. Or so I was told (you know, after my attempt. Not before).

It is not easy being a foodie host. *sadface*

I will post pictures of the gingerbread houses tomorrow. I need to go recover what little of my poise is left.

priorities

Okay, this is stupid. Instead of madly knitting for the three mothers-in-law (er — one of them is not mine) or the friend who is suddenly joining us for Christmas and therefore needs a present, I'm going to knit for the woman who actually gave birth to me. I think, considering all of the stories she loves to tell about how horrible the experience was, that it's only fair.

I'm still pissed that knitting for myself didn't make the cut. I have a pile of socks and mittens and a sweater that I could have, but don't. Who decides this crap?

Oh. Right.

cancelling Christmas

I am still sick. It's a little bit insane. I have spent the last week literally unable to summon the energy to do anything more strenuous than lying on the sofa in the den (now, literally, a den like a fox's, all comfy-cosy with a blanket fort burrowed by yours truly). I think I am a bit better today, but am taking it slowly — I thought I was better last week, too, and tried to go about my normal activites (like work), and ... let's just say that it didn't turn out well.


As such, I'm not doing Christmas cards this year. I kept thinking I was going to be able to — but I've lost two weekends to this dratted flu, and I don't foresee having the time to do them in time for the Christmas mail. I firmly believe in doing things properly if they're to be done at all, and at this late date, there's simply no time — there's still quite a bit of calligraphy and other finishing left to do. So: I beg my friends' indulgence, but for now, no fancy-pants Christmas cards this year.

Honestly, I would cancel Christmas in its entirely, if I could. I am suffering from an acute lack of imagination right now: I can't see myself having the energy to deal with it all, despite its being a fortnight away. Luckily, we made the decision early this year to do very few gifts, so the shopping is almost entirely done and not at all stressful. I wish I could say the same thing about the Christmas knitting, though. I have been knitting this:


My garter-stitch blanket, which is lovely and comfy and cosy, but isn't Christmas knitting. I have not felt up to the tiny needles and complex cables — which is a problem, because now I have just over a week to finish off a mitten knit on 2.25mm needles, and I am not entirely convinced that I'm capable of it. Which I guess makes this traditional Christmas knitting, after all.

just what the doctor ordered

It's always a good day when I get a box of yarn in the mail.


My first yarn order from WEBS — two skeins each of Cascade EcoWool in black and grey, and one skein each of Spud & Chloë Fine, in Lizard and Popcorn. I've squooshed the Spud & Chloë before — there is 20% silk in it, so it's super soft — and I've heard really good things about it, so I'm looking forward to playing with it. I am thinking intarsia mittens.

The EcoWool is slated for the rest of the Moderne Log Cabin Blanket that I started last spring — I stopped knitting it because I ran out of yarn. I've been really cold, as I've mentioned, so a heavy wool blanket sounds heavenly right about now — especially since I am home today thanks to being utterly flattened by the flu, and straight garter stitch is about as complicated as I can handle right now.

now that's more like it

thermostat troubles

Is it perverse of me to be a little bit jealous of all the snow that Europe has been getting, or it is just insane? (I'm also willing to entertain the possibility that it is both.) It has been sporadically snowing big, fat, fluffy snowflakes every day this week — with the notable exception of Tuesday, when it just rained, heavily and depressingly, all day — but none of it has stuck. I suppose it's only a matter of time, and supposedly we are going to get all the snow we can handle come January and February, but I'm inpatient. I like snow. And my house could use the extra insulation, I think.

Speaking of which — so could I. I just have not gotten used to the cold yet. This is the first year we've had control of our thermostat — we had radiators in the old apartment, and no control over them — so we've set it up for a supposedly toasty 19°C. Of course, it turns out that 19° is not toasty. (And don't tell me to put on a sweater: I'm a knitter. I have already deployed the wool.) But I have also staunchly refused to allow Pd to turn the thermostat up — even a degree — because I think my body needs to learn to cope with the cold. I refuse to burn extra fossil fuel so that my body can pretend it's still early fall. I have Principles, damn it.

Luckily, thanks to the One of a Kind Show (more about that in the next post), I also have really cute (and really ridiculous) cold-weather accessories:

Stitch used for display purposes only.
(And yes: sometimes, I think my principles are stupid. But I am in thrall to them anyway.)

(temporary) snow!

This is what I woke up to on Saturday morning:


(Except that it was slightly more impressive than this; I took this in the memorial parkette near climbing, and it had melted very quickly). But, you see? The One of a Kind show means Christmas, and Christmas means winter, and winter means snow, so voilà: snow. Don't y'all yell at me all at once. I warned you it was coming.

Of course, the best way to deal with cold and snow (and après climbing) is to have a nice, hearty brunch. (The Guinness was Pd's. He has English roots; he takes this whole business of pub brunch much more to heart than I do.)


Speaking of climbing, on Monday night I did about half (say, 20 feet) of a 5.12b. I am extraordinarily proud, and my fingers were in extraordinary pain. I am noting this here because it may be a feat I am doomed never to repeat.

getting closer to seasonally-appropriate

So, after all of that planning and hand-wringing in October, and then the actual making of the cards at the beginning of November, I have done ... absolutely nothing Christmas-related since then.

Well, strictly, that's not true. I spent a couple of nights this week making this:


Which I am very pleased with. (It is missing a ribbon, which I haven't bought yet — it was sort of a spontaneous project. I am thinking some sort of plaid.) It took so long because tracing out and then cutting leaves? Takes time.

For those of you that are interested, the tutorial is here. Mine is made from craft paper gift wrap (printed with Christmas motifs), and the colour leaves are from washi. You can make it out of anything you happen to have lying around, really.

But anyway, aside from a paper wreath that I very suddenly decided to make, I have not done any work. I still love the idea of crafting in general and handmade Christmas cards in particular, but I think I may be over the actual doing of it. Doing takes work, and time. Time that could be spent sleeping. Or, I suppose, cleaning — although that never seems to get done, either (oops).

This may change after this weekend. We are going to the One of a Kind Show tonight (whee!), and that always signals the beginning of the Christmas season for me. And this year we've got an entire house to decorate! We may even get a real tree.

Indoor gardener

Do you remember how I brought my beleagered strawberry pot of herbs indoors for the winter? It was a very sad, sad shade of its former self: it had fallen over on its side, and had subsequently crushed the tarragon and basil to death, and the thyme and oregano had been underwatered and were the colour of dead things. Ultimately, the oregano looked like it might stage a creeping return, but I cut back on all of the dead tarragon — which reduced it to a nub, basically — and resigned myself to starting over with new tarragon and thyme (and basil) next year.

Well, that was then. The basil is still dead (it is now living as a twig), but —


That little sprig of bright green? That's new-growth tarragon. It's healthy, too. I'd seen it before, but I had been worried that the lip of the pot would shade it too much. Apparently not, and now it's tall enough that it has all the sunlight it needs. And even better, those little sprigs of green around it? That's oregano, now fully recovered and colonising the top of the pot, because it's outgrowing its little side balcony:


And, finally, most surprising of all?


The thyme came back. A lot. (It had previously been the colour and texture of hay — like, 1 cm-high hay, but still — so this was a tremendous surprise. I didn't think there had been anything left to photosynthesize.)

This indoor/winter gardening thing is working out so much better than the whole outdoors thing, so obviously it wasn't my utter lack of conviction that was the problem; it was the fact that I took my lack of conviction outside. It wasn't me; it was the garden that was totally lame. That is now my story and I am totally sticking to it.

Photoblog: the Royal

Wow, sorry for the silence. I'd meant to get this up before o'er long, and then life/stuff (*coughRock Bandcough*) got in the way. As I had mentioned, the main impetus for going to the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair was this:


Superdogs
... but we did the traditional Royal stuff, too.

We managed to catch a horse demonstration, for example:


It was for saddlebred ... something. (The reverb on the announcer was tremendous; it was really hard to make out what he was saying.) It was very cool, until the horse threw a shoe. Then it was still cool, but we were distracted by the shoe.

We also looked at cows, including wee dairy calves:

The term "wee" is relative.
We petted animals who deigned to let us touch them in exchange for food pellets.




Including little baby ones!


There were also Silkie chickens dyed odd colours ("for fun," they say), and wee little bunnies ... but not for petting.




Also popular, and I sort of regret not getting a picture of this: stands of Dyson Airblade hand dryers next to the "washing stations" at the petting zoo. Pd wanted to take one home, but I thought someone would notice and take umbrage. I was, however, terribly impressed with the branding opportunity. Who would have thought petting zoo = product placement for $1,000 hand dryers? Not me, but perhaps that's why I'm no longer in publicity.

Moving on.


Piglets! These were behind glass. I noticed a distinct lack of pigs on display at the Royal, which Pd explained by pointing out that, despite what I've been taught by Babe and EB White, pigs are actually very ornery and not calm enough to just keep around like this. Well, fine. But I can't believe EB White would lie to me like that.

So we moved on to the sheep.


Of course, being me, seeing sheep immediately leads to ...


Fleeces! (And fleeces lead to yarn. Yum. And I'm not sorry, either.)

And finally, the traditional agricultural fair competition: butter sculptures.




These were not the winners (I think they were second runner up and critics' choice, respectively), but we liked them the best. The winners were technically superior but kind of boring.

We also saw the displays for the other traditional competition — giant vegetables — but declined to document it. As Pd says, giant vegetables are odd: they never look quite real. Maybe years of watching CGI has spoilt us, but honestly, Mother Nature really does not upsample well at all.

Meanwhile, on our way to queue for Superdogs, we passed by (I think) a display for canola. It had interactive stands for kids. Anyway, we are pretty sure we shouldn't have been able to access the systems utility, but we did:


Somehow, Pd always seems to find the broken computer. I don't know how he does it; it's a gift. Or a curse. (He fixed it, though. He rebooted it. Don't tell the IT guys.)

And then ... Superdogs!

We had decided to make our way to the arena about an hour before the scheduled showtime, as it was the last show of the day (we had gotten to the Royal late, and they don't have evening shows). It was lucky we did, too: they had already started letting people in — we didn't have to queue, at all — and there were so many that they decided to start the show half an hour early. In the end, they supposedly turned away something like 500 people. If we had opted for the suggested-arrival time of half an hour prior to the show, we wouldn't have gotten in.

It was a show, not a competition, so it only lasted about 25 minutes. It was super cute, though.


Noah, a Pyrenean sheepdog. (I had to look up his breed later, but I should have known that it was a sheepdog, judging from my reaction. I loves sheepdogs.) There was also an Afghan, which I didn't get a picture of, but it was absolutely beautiful; tall and elegant.

The main event was an obstacle course race run by eight dogs (four for each team). The Boston terrier ran for our team first, and he was pretty good:


The other team had the Old English sheepdog, later, and ... okay, the sheepie was nowhere near as fast as the Vezla or as smart as the border collie, but it was really, by far, hands down, no contest, the cutest.


Especially since it got confused and skipped the high jump on its side of the course, but turned around and ran half of our side of the course. And then ran back and had a tug-of-war with its trainer, who was trying to get it to do the weave properly. And then it may or may not have slid off its pedestal at the end of the course by jumping onto it too fast.


I got to pet it later, after the show. His name is Puff Daddy and he is five years old.

I want one.

placeholder

We went to the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair this weekend! I've been looking forward to this for weeks. (Although, to be absolutely and scrupulously honest, it was mostly because I wanted to go to the Superdogs show, because one of the Superdogs is an Old English sheepdog named — I kid you not — Puff Daddy. But we saw and I enjoyed other things, too.)

The full photoblog will have to wait, though, because I am feeling a tad delicate this morning, thanks to the (very) recent acquisition of Rock Band 3. It was the first time we've played it in our new house, which means that it's likely the first time we've played Rock Band this year. That is, as you can imagine, way too long, so we are thinking about having monthly get-togethers with friends for Guitar Hero/Rock Band goodness. Because everybody's life can be a little bit improved with some loud belting out of Bon Jovi, yes?

(Don't pretend you're too good to appreciate Bon Jovi. Or Survivor. If you don't enjoy singing Eye of the Tiger with three of your closest and possibly tin-eared friends, then you a) have no soul, and b) are not welcome in my house because it's just going to make you miserable.)

We also curled — as substitutes on a friend's team — and it was a lot of fun. We still didn't win, but at least this time it was close. (The last few times, it has been less than close.)

And I made a very good risotto (my usual recipe).

But, okay, the best part of the weekend really did have to do with a race, a tunnel, and a sheepdog.


Pd calls this the sheepdog hadron collider. Look at him go!

dead things can also grow, can't they?

I have today and tomorrow off from work, because Remembrance Day is a holiday for the civil service and I thought a four-day weekend would be rather nice. (And so far, it is.) So I took the opportunity to take twospots' advice from my previous post, and planted the peonies.

Luckily, it's been a fairly warm week and the warm weather seems to be holding. I was out in just jeans and a hoodie and felt perfectly comfortable, so I'm hoping that the ground is still warm enough (despite some overnight frosts) for the roots to establish themselves. If they're still alive, that is.


This is what the roots looked like. They were soaking in water because that's what the Internet said to do, if the roots looked dry. (They looked like branches with globules. I decided they fit the definition of "dry.") My father-in-law told me not to be alarmed by their state, and that they were actually supposed to look this way. Since he's the one who lives on a farm, not me, I believe him — with some skeptism.


Anyway, I dug a hole, I made sure the eyes were about a half to an inch under the soil (there were multiple eyes) — you can see it in the above picture (I hadn't finished backfilling yet), just like the Internet said. And then I mulched it with leaves, just like twospots said. I am doing my very best to follow instructions to the letter, and not get creative. Creative is bad.


So now we wait. This whole waiting for four-to-six months so see if things are actually working (see: tulips, garlic, peonies) is just killing me, though. Who wants to wait so long to be disappointed?

(I am trying to be optimistic, but it's being tempered by what my brain tells me is pragmatism. Remember the strawberries? The tomatoes? The entirety of my far-too-grandiose plan for the garden? I am trying to learn a lesson here, is what I'm saying.)

Finally, does anybody have any ideas what these are?


They are little, and white, and everywhere. I have been pulling up clumps of them. They appeared around the end of summer, early fall. I assume they're weeds, since they're growing like them — but, then again, my garden also spews forth rosemary and sage like weeds, so who knows.

On the upside, my neighbour was also gardening today, and we had the longest conversation we've ever had (it lasted maybe 10 minutes). It turns out that he doesn't know anything about gardening, either — their front yard was landscaped with hardy bushes and rock paths by a previous owner — and they had a "wild flower garden" in their old place, too, that they didn't know how to deal with. So at least they don't see our front yard as a sign of moral degeneracy. Phew.

Is it too late to hope for flowers?

Last weekend, we went to visit my father-in-law up at the farm (near Collingwood).


Yes, there is snow there. (Picture taken through a window; hence the blurriness.)

Now, here's the question: he gave me some peony rootballs. We've had some overnight frost in Toronto, but also daytime temperatures approaching 10 degrees (Celsius) — do you think it's too late to plant them?

Or, even if it might be too late, should I plant them anyway and hope for the best? (Does it make a difference that these were outside until recently, and so have hardened to cold already?)

And if I shouldn't plant them because they really do have no chance ... what on earth should I do with them? ("Compost" is not an option.)

...
In other news, I managed to do something to my thumb while bouldering yesterday; I'm not exactly sure what, but it hurts (and it was bleeding). It's amazing what one needs the left thumb for. Here's a list I've compiled so far: opening shampoo and hair conditioner bottles, clipping fingernails, doing up buttons, pulling up zippers on boots, knitting, holding a book open to read. Funnily enough, typing is not on the list (yet).

Yes, I am having a difficult day.

FO: Still Light

The never-ending sweater in sock yarn is finally finished!

It took me just about a month, which in retrospect is not a huge amount of time — I would have been able to do maybe two pairs of socks in that time, knitting steadily, and instead I knit the equivalent length of three pairs — but still. All that stockinette. And there's not even that much shaping to do, so it really is just the same knitting, around and around and around.

I am very glad that I twigged onto the gauge trouble and decided to omit the arm shaping. The upper arm is the only area where the gauge demon turned out to be a problem, but even then it's not horrible — the yarn does stretch and I don't mind tight sleeves. (I usually have the opposite problem on sweaters, which I hate.)

It is not quite finished yet. I haven't found a nice button for the back (which isn't strictly necessary, anyway, I don't think), and I need to make a decision as to whether I should sew the pockets to the body, and where to do so. Before I do the latter, though, I wanted to wear the sweater a few times just to see how the pockets work best.

It is the perfect weight for now, and I am kind of sad that I don't have another one ... but I don't think I will be knitting another sweater on wee needles any time soon.

Details:
Pattern: Still Light tunic by Veera Välimäki (Rav link; she doesn't have a web site)
Yarn: Malabrigo Sock in Alcaucil, 3 skeins, knit with 2.75mm needles

...
And I think that will be the last FO post until Christmas, unless I manage to finally finish the Aeolian shawl, which is unlikely at best. I am now onto Super Secret Christmas Knitting, which I have dragged myself into kicking and screaming, as there are of course other things that I would rather knit (specifically, things for myself). So it's probably a good thing I haven't got the Habu yet ... but oh boy am I thinking about it.

changeover to winter

I really love our street, and the dawn light in the morning is fantastic — if you can get over the fact that it's dawn and you're leaving for work. I can generally keep up the pretense that it's an enjoyable autumn until Hallowe'en, but after that it's the runup to Christmas, which means snow, which means winter, which means cold. This morning, coincidentally enough, was also the first day this season that it was below freezing when I walked out the door.

And it was snowing yesterday — not much, and very wet; most of it melted practically before it hit the ground, but it was definitely snow. And last night, after all of the trick-or-treaters were gone, we realised that we had no food in the house and went online to check the grocery store's hours — and they had already switched their flyers into Christmas mode. So the changeover happens fast.

Of course, I didn't really wait for it. This is what I did on Saturday:








The majority of the cards (third picture) are standard Gocco screen prints, from my own freehand drawing. I knew they would work (even though they're a new design), so I spent most of my time experimenting with incorporating some Chinese brush doodling (yes, that is absolutely the correct term) and cut paper into my work. I'm very bad at the latter, though — as you can see by the last picture — and I need to figure out how to stop the very fibrous paper from catching on the cutter. So the cut paper may need to percolate for another year while I work on my technique.

I'm very pleased with the Chinese brush, however. It's nice to know that I've retained something from grade school (because it's certainly not the language — sorry, mum!).