No-tell Motel

So I did it.
I strayed.
I had a brief fling with a darling little top-down number in a washable persian red cotton.
I gotta tell you, I am a sucker for these top down raglans.
This was a last minute must-knit-something-for-an-adorable-toddler-by-this-sunday kind of thing.
I bought the yarn Wednesday night (as usual at my lovely Circles), and wove the ends in on Sunday morning. This may not seem like a short amount of time in "regular person" hours, but as my dear bestitched will attest, mom hours are very different. And "full time job mom" hours, even more so.
So I feel a pat on the back is in order for this one:


And the addition of an engraved initial in reverse stockinette:

This little boy is beautiful and hilarious and I love him. So this sweater will be well worth any long term repercussions such marthon knitting may induce.

Speaking of beautiful toddler boys, look what happened last weekend:
Aquarium:




And afterwards:





Darn.
That's some sort of cute.

Putting the Chick back in Chicken

I have rallied some knitting support for the Elsbeth Lavold cardigan.

(Something funny and sarcastic about "child labor laws" and "Kathy Lee Gifford")


My knitting time consists of the few hours between putting my son to bed, and falling asleep myself, assuming of course that I don't have anything else to focus on like laundry, or dishes or communicating with the outside world. One could of course argue that starting this sort of web adventure is counter to finding additional "me time", but screw you. Who's asking?

All this is really to tell you why it's taking this long to finish this little beauty. But there has been some progress:

(I have yet to master the fancy "picher takin'")

In the meantime, for the benefit of my darling Virgil, here's how I make Chicken Cutlets.

You'll need:
Chicken - about 1 lb, bendy and nekkid (that is boneless and skinless)
Milk - about 1 cup
Egg - one
Breadcrumbs - about 2 cups
Olive oil - some

•Rinse off the chicken. Salmonella is nobody's friend.
•Pour the milk into a bowl, and add the egg. Mix it with a fork.
•Pour the breadcrumbs into another bowl.
•Cut the icky parts off the chicken. Anything that looks bloody or white, get rid of it, because no one needs that, I don't care how tough you are.
•Put the chicken pieces, one at a time into a heavy-duty ziploc freezer bag, or cover with heavy-duty plastic wrap. If you're using a ziploc bag, do not seal it, because it will explode and you will look foolish.
•Using a meat tenderizer (if you don't have one of these, buy one. You will love it.), whack the ever-lovin-bejeesus out of the chicken. Continue to do so until the chicken is consistently 1/4" thick.
•Take the flattened chicken pieces and dip into the milk/egg mixture.

•Then take each chicken piece and roll in breadcrumbs until totally covered.

•In a large heavy pan/skillet, heat enough olive oil to cover the pan, and then some.
•Add chicken, without overcrowding. Chicken feels the most comfortable in smaller, more intimate gatherings where it can really relax and be itself.
•Cook for 3 - 4 minutes, until golden brown, flip and do the same for the backside (teehee. backside).

•Continue for all the chicken until it's all cooked. Tell your husband/roomate/fire department that your kitchen is supposed to smell like that.
•"Place cooked chicken on paper towels to absorb excess oil" ("excess oil" hahahahahaha.)

You can turn this chicken into things like chicken parmesan, or slice it up and put it on a salad, or eat it at room temperature right off the pile with your fingers while watching Grey's Anatomy. And then let the stream of tears cut through your greasy cheeks at the realization that they did indeed use a blood clot to kill off the handsome and charming fiancee of the only character you find truly endeering.
Heartless bastards.

Psst...

...hey kid, wanna see something sexy?


mmm. can't you just smell the faux-leather yumminess?
But wait! It gets better. Take a look inside:


That's right. Despite it's appealing yet serious exterior, it's capable of holding POUNDS of knitting goodness (with inner pockets galore).

Circles has em. And my husband "allowed" (read: smiled begrudgingly and did not complain out loud) me to buy it.

Not that I needed another "purse" or "knitting bag" or "reason to spend more money which rightly belongs in our savings account". But really,

How can you resist that little face?

Another face I cannot resist is that of my flu-ridden toddler, who has aquired a taste for tea.


This poor little angel child has his fourth cold this spring. Though this has yet to turn into the devil croup which seeks him out with a vengence, it has been threatening to. This was a child who I nursed diligently for 16 months, and fed a well touted porridge made from whole grains and legumes which I made everyday for his first year of eating solid food. All in the name of "healthy immune system." Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but really? Has his father's poor respiratory gene allready gained a foothold?
Hell.

On another note, I've been outed!
Yikes! the bestitchedstress herself went and posted a big ol' shout out my way. I feel like she just asked me to the Blog Prom.
(Hmm. I don't think I'll ever say blog prom again.)
I guess we're playing in the big leagues now. Thanks D!!!

So to summarize:
Go to Circles and buy a sexy bag of your own.
Virus's are mean and lame.
Go Visit my mentor and say hi.
Never say "Blog Prom."

Jet Bleu

Here's a funny picture I took at gate 31 at logan airport Friday night:


What was funny is that we were there at 5:00pm for our 5:55 flight.
What was not so funny was that we actually left the tarmac at 12:30. AM.
Yes, SEVEN HOURS LATER. Seven, bored-toddler-up-far-later-than-bedtime hours.
There is no picture of that.
Well, unless you count this:


So, at three o'clock in the morning, we arrived in Richmond, VA., with a sleeping child and $200 worth of JetBlue vouchers, for what proved to be a fabulous weekend for the wedding of Hinmaton and the beautiful Samantha.
(we'll provide evidence of that later.)

The real sad part of all this "weather delay" and "baby finally sleeping on the plane"

was the fact that I had packed my knitting in my checked baggage.
So that, combined with my leaving the unchecked pattern book in the convenient little pouch in the back of the seat in front of me on the plane*, resulted in this:

Five measly rows of garter stitch on the front left side of the Elsbeth Lavold cardigan.

My feelings of straying are growing...

*it should be said that the fabulous John at the Richmond JetBlue baggage desk found, held and set aside this book for me to pick up for our departing flight on Sunday. I still love JetBlue.

As the sun sets on the honeymoon

So the back of the Elsbeth Lavold cardigan is complete


When I first started this project it was GOOD.
I would think about the yarn all day. I would sit at my desk at work daydreaming about how the cables would start to form beneath my fingers. Was it thinking about me too? I would call it just to check in. I would giggle about it with my friends; It's color, it's texture, its...ahem...YARDAGE. I just couldn't get home fast enough to pick it up and just stare at it.
But, it was just a matter of time.
As with all my projects, it began to lose its novelty. (After all, a girl can only knit in stockinette for so long.) I found myself thinking about other patterns. I would feign interest in its waist shaping. Smile politely at the armhole bind offs. I began to fantasize about other yarns. I began to think about those new boots I bought and sweaters to match...


And then it happened.


I remembered this fabulous brown sportweight from Carlisle Brook Farms. All, like 1400 yds of it. And then...and then...
the somewhat cowl.
Damnitall.
The perfect pattern for the perfect yarn for the perfect boots.

This relationship is so doomed.

Ghosts of knitting past

(There were years of knitting before this blog.)

Here's my son's baby blanket.



I knit it for him over the first few months of his life, primarily while he slept on my chest, or while nursing him. Early on, I found that my need to multi-task was overwhelming, especially considering how much time I spent trapped in "Baby Jail". He would fall asleep in the super-handy baby carrier, and I discovered I could make pie dough, roll out crusts and bake several pies while he slept (it may have made my life a bit more simple had I just figured out how to take him out of it without waking him up). Or he would fall asleep on top of me, or while nursing, and I discovered that this was the optimal time to knit. And watch Passions.

So here's the result.


The addition of his name in reverse stockinette is to ensure his not losing this blanket in college.

And yes, despite what my husband thinks, I am SURE he will bring his baby blanket to college.

Blanket in action:
(sort of)



Yarn: Kertzer Butterfly Super 10
Patterns: My own Plus chart from this book

Brando

I make REALLY good meatballs.
I don't know how other people make them, or if what I do is anything different, but I can go for weeks eating these things. Occasionally I get a craving to see The Godfather, and then begins a veritable orgy of red sauce and pasta and these:


Here's how I do it:
1-2 lbs of ground beef
2-3 eggs
breadcrumbs
parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 375°. In a large bowl, break the eggs into the meat. Add about 1 cup of breadcrumbs, and about a half cup of cheese. Mix by hand until everything is combined. Keep adding breadcrumbs to absorb the egg until the mixture is not too wet. Roll meatballs into evenly sized balls. Place in a glass baking dish and cook for 25 - 30 minutes, until cooked all the way through.

Oh Lord.
I do so love these things.
Plus, as luck would have it, I'm married to a man who makes the greatest red sauce in the land.

(Though, he tends to eat before allowing his food to cool sufficiently, thereby forcing his wife to post photographic evidence)


And it seems that our child is quickly gaining appreciation.

Joe

The world will never be the same without this man.

broken

My husband has a boken nose.
My son has croup.
We are a sad, sad family today.
My husband is a break dance fighter or "capoerista", and spends three days a week dangerously close to people's flying feet and fists.

And sometimes that flying danger gets nose-breakingly close.



My son apparently is the kind of 2 year old that gets croup.
This is the 3rd time he's had it and it's a snotty heartbreak.


Me, I haven't broken anything except my all-time-blog-posts record: 3 entries.
That's the most posts I've ever written.
And based on my sample size of one, I have outposted myself on 100% of all my blogs.

On another note, I have a different color of my previously mentioned turkish goodness.
I'm going to knit this:


From this:


With this:


For my mother.
(who shall remain link- and picture-less...for the time being)

starting/finishing

Okay. Mere moments after officially starting this adventure, I finished the hem on the final sleeve of this:



It is Grumperina's Picovoli. Except that I used a larger gauge. And I opened the neckline. And I added sleeves. And hems on the bottom and cuffs. And I picked up stitches along said neckline and created another hem.



But can't you see the similarities?



Ok. So it is a bit different. But the real thrill of this sweater is the price. To my estimate it used roughly $8.35 worth of yarn. That's right. At Circles, I found this in the sale bin for $5 a skein. Golden Horn Turkish Mohair. 75% mohair, 25% acrylic. Now generally I am the girl that shies away from wearing acrylic yarn, but the color was lovely, I was a bit yarn-broke and it really seemed like an OK mohair. But here's the kicker - 385 yds. For FIVE dollars. I used just over 1 1/2 skeins so...yup...a $8.35 sweater.



It's a little itchy, but I'll get into my remedy for that a little later.

For now I will happily curl up in a kind of itchy cocoon and think of what to do with the other roughly 890 yards of "Turkish Delight" (ok "that" even grossed me out a little bit).

...and so it begins.

Hmm. Blogging. An ugly word, and one which I'd prefer not to use. Solely out of aesthetic, mind you. Obviously I am embracing whole-heartedly the concept of "public bulletin board"; my own rickety soap box upon which to stand and broadcast my opinions of the mundane; a veritable ego free-for-all to celebrate all things me; a portfolio of my various forays into the worlds of craft, domesticity, motherhood and rock and roll; a celebration of my over use of (and on occasion intentionally misplaced) "quotation marks".
So Hoo-Friggin-Ray for me, and for you who may have stumbled upon this wittingly or otherwise, I say this:
"Thanks"