Last night I gifted two friends with hand-knitted fingerless mitts; both in purple, both with cuff fur (though different yarns). I only have a picture of one pair at the moment – forgot to upload the other.  This pair can be worn long as shown, or with the cuff folded up. I love how they turned out and think that I need to knit myself some next.

Knit in wool (KnitPicks merino) with Patons Cha Cha at the cuff. Pattern: Voodoo Wrist Warmers (Ravelry link).

This evening while walking to the train, I experienced something that made me feel 13 again. Or maybe 12.
Two young men were walking towards me, and just as I was about to pass them on the inside of the sidewalk the fellow on the outside gave his buddy a shove so that he very nearly ran into me. It was pretty clear that it was deliberate, and it seemed much too random to have been part of their conversation, if you get my drift. I burst out laughing the same time they did; I’m pretty sure I am old enough to be their mother.
Good thing my reflexes are still sharp!

Oh– and then, further down the sidewalk were two young men, maybe in their late teens, panhandling. They had a dog and one of the boys was playing a guitar, the case open on the ground for donations. Both boys looked pretty scruffy and they were definitely on the “goth” side of fashion, but they were belting out (in harmony) “You Are My Sunshine” and doing a darned good job with it! If I had any cash on me I would have given them a couple bucks.

It was a masquerade holiday party for my office, so we dressed accordingly. Fun!

Once upon a time, there was a knitter. She didn’t just like to knit, she loved to knit – and so, she knit a lot. She knit on the bus, on the train, while watching TV, on the couch, in the car (not while driving!),  in restaurants, during meetings, at the movie theater, in waiting rooms, and in the park. This particular knitter did not, however, like to make two of anything; even if she repeated a pattern, it would be in a different yarn or at the very least, a different color than the first. There were no duplicates in her knitting repertoire. Life was too short and there were too many fabulous patterns and yarns to knit the same exact thing twice, in the knitter’s opinion.

Being rather prolific (thanks in large part to five hours each week on public transportation, in which sitting idle just isn’t an option), the knitter churned out an impressive number of knitted items. The items destined to be gifts were stashed in a large plastic storage tote, where they would relax until an appropriate holiday or occasion presented itself. Most of the time, the knitter knew in advance who a particular item would go to, but not always.

Early one year, the knitter happened across a pattern for a rectangular shawl. It was lacy and fun – very different than what the knitter typically made or wore. She decided on a whim that she would make one for herself.  She picked out some yarn and cast on.

Disaster! The yarn was not a good match for the pattern, at all. This happens occasionally, in the knitter’s experience, and she had learned that it is good to “listen” to the project. If something isn’t working out right, one should consider a different combination.

The knitter dug through her stash of yarns and came up with three small skeins of a fabulous red cotton yarn that she thought might work. She cast on and knitted a few rows, and was delighted that all seemed to be well. This feeling was short-lived, however: there wasn’t enough yarn to complete the project. The knitter was in despair. The yarn was perfect, but it had been discontinued! An internet search proved futile, and she set the project aside while she contemplated her options.

A little time passed and the knitter discovered a fellow knitter who happened to have several skeins of this exact yarn, in their own stash. Even better, they were willing to sell them to the knitter for very little money, so that the knitter could complete her project. The knitter rejoiced, and all was well once again. She finished the shawl, washed and blocked it, and put it away in her closet. As she was cleaning up, she saw that she still had quite a bit of the yarn left over. While she didn’t understand how this could be, she decided not to think too much about it and to instead take it as a sign that she should knit another. The yarn and pattern were such a good match, and it had knitted up so beautifully; surely she should just run with it rather than try to find another pattern for the leftover yarn.

Now, this was so unusual for the knitter that at first it felt odd to be casting on with the red yarn again but she persevered. As she knit, she kept wondering who she could give this duplicate to. Nobody was springing to mind, so the knitter decided not to waste any more time pondering and to just add it to her gift container. She finished the shawl, washed and blocked it, and put it away.

Several months went by and the knitter completed many more projects. She knit socks, hats, slippers, and gloves. She began to prepare for the upcoming Holiday Season and her gift container filled to the top. The duplicate red shawl got covered up under layers of other knitted goodies, and temporarily forgotten about.

Late in the summer, the knitter’s father passed away. This was a very sad time for the knitter, but it was also bittersweet because she was able to travel to her father’s home and visit with relatives that she had not seen in many years. (and of course, she brought some knitting with her.) The knitter’s grief was soothed by the presence of loving family members and the process of getting to know her Southern siblings a little better. They spent many hours telling stories and recounting memories, and going through thousands of old photographs.

It was while looking at some of these photographs that the knitter suddenly understood who the duplicate red shawl was destined for, and she was glad. It was perfectly clear, no question about it.

When the knitter was just four years old, her grandmother dressed both the knitter and the knitter’s stepsister (who is the same age)  in matching outfits, and photographed them along with the knitter’s father and her sister’s mother. The knitter’s grandmother was a great photographer. There were dozens of pictures of the two little girls, decked out in the same green dresses and striped hats (which reminded the knitter of beach balls). Another set of pictures had the two girls in matching shorts outfits, one in red and the other in green. There was also a photo of the knitter’s father and the two girls doing headstands, and it made the knitter laugh out loud. As the girls smiled and tumbled across the pictures, the knitter felt a little peace settle around her shoulders,  for here was family, and love, and fun – all captured in these small square photos taken in her grandmother’s yard so many years ago.

There was a time when the knitter and her stepsister were dressed alike, and while she was knitting the first red shawl the knitter was unaware that in a very short amount of time she would be reunited with this same sister and see the photos of those forgotten days. There is only one person the duplicate shawl can go to, just one recipient in the entire world: it must go to the knitter’s sister, Alisa.

Once again, the two girls can be dressed alike – although this time it will be without the beach ball hats. This time, the girls are grown and have suffered the same loss; the matching red shawls on opposite sides of the country will unite them every time the shawls are worn, and remind them both of the time they spent together this summer, laughing and crying. The knitter is thankful that she has the skill to create items that can have so much meaning, and hopes that her sister will wear and cherish the red shawl often, for even though it was not knit “for” her, it really was. The knitter just didn’t know it at the time.

I am convinced that as long as there are tortillas and salsa in the house, something can be made and called dinner. Tonight: leftover medley.
in a large cast iron skillet: 1/2 a chopped onion, 1/2 pound of chopped bacon. Cook for 15-20 minutes or so. Add in 1 cup cooked rice, 1/2 cup cooked chicken, 1 clove minced garlic, and one can rinsed black beans. Shake in some chipotle Tabasco. Heat through. season to taste with pepper and chili powder. Serve on tortillas, with shredded cheese and salsa, and corn chips if you have them. Ring the dinner bell!

Yikes – an entire week has passed without a blog post! It’s a sign of the times, holiday times that is. Our calendar filled right up for December; I’ve had something going on almost every evening and that does tend to cut into blogging time.

So, here’s a run down of what has been occupying my time:

plenty of Christmas knitting (hats, gloves, and socks!).

baking (shortbread that has not been cooperating and is stressing me out. Might have to change my recipe a bit because the past few batches have insisted on growing like the blog and running all over my oven. Burning butter does not smell good, and last night as smoke filled the house Jordan asked if I was trying to kill everyone… Also baking chocolate chip cookies for a cookie swap. Also baked up eight loaves of fruit & nut bread. I hesitate to call it “fruit cake” because so many people have bad associations with it; mine is chock-full of good stuff – no neon chewy fruit globs – and is happily aging in rum-soaked cheesecloth.)

cooking (got a new cookbook, and with the cold weather there’s been a resurgence of soups, stews, chili, roasts, and other hearty meals in our house.)

shopping (finished off my list; small stuff this year, as indicated by a small budget. Need to box up my long-distance gifting and get those mailed off soon.)

cleaning (HA! yeah, right… we’re trying to make room for our tree, but we seem to be losing the clutter battle.)

girl scout activities (plentiful, and believe it or not they will start taking cookie orders next month!)

random motherly duties (mainly taxi service, some shopping help, laundry support, general nagging and reminding.)

spinning (my new/old spinning wheel finally arrived from Australia. It took two evenings to clean and de-gunk it, but it now spins like a dream and I’m having a great time getting to know Wendy. I’m working on some blue faced Leicester wool with no real goal for it other than consistent twist.)

Coming up: company holiday party, middle school band and drama performances, dinner out with girlfriends, caroling with the girl scouts, more holiday and general baking, perhaps some sewing if I find time, and I’m sure that I’ll be knitting right up until Christmas.

On a personal note, I’ve been fighting off sadness as the holidays draw near. I’ve worked hard to establish new family traditions with my kids, and the pain of losing my mom has softened; but this year I’m dealing with the loss of my dad and several times I have caught myself wondering what to put in his Christmas box. I’ll be sending stuff to my step-mom, but it isn’t the same. I keep telling myself to focus on the family I have, and I am eternally thankful for being reconnected to my other siblings, but a piece of my heart is missing and there is no denying that it hurts.

There is just a glimmer of daylight left on the horizon as I head home for the day. December in Seattle means going to work in the dark, and coming home in the dark.
It will be nice when we pass the winter solstice and head back towards longer daylight hours. I miss walking around the neighborhood in the evenings; but with limited street lights and sketchy sidewalks, it isn’t much fun right now.

I was working at a craft show this weekend, the kind of show with a central checkout. Not only do these allow us vendors a break and save us from having to be on location the entire run of the show, they allow us to interact with far more customers than we would ordinarily see in an individual booth.

Anyway, I was working the register and a tall, elegant woman with gorgeous white hair, cut very stylishly, used a credit card. I always read the name on the card, and this one was rather unusual so rather than butcher it I asked her how to pronounce it. She looked a little peeved, but said, “Moh-rahg” – rolling the r in the most delicious way. Open a, like “bog”.

“That’s beautiful!” I exclaimed, for I truly thought so.
“It’s perfectly dreadful. A horrid name. My mother must have been drunk,” she replied.

I didn’t know how to respond, but neither did I know what it must have been like to grow up with a name like Morag. Admittedly, her pronounciation did wonders for the name, but even so it sounds faintly Renaissance. Or Greek mythology. On paper it lends itself to all kinds of awful rhymes and taunts.

1. It’s Tuesday, which ordinarily wouldn’t be anything to celebrate, but it’s my Friday.

2. We get to eat turkey in a couple of days.

3. I seem to have caught a cold, which I am not happy about.

4. My Christmas knitting is coming along swimmingly.

5. Thank goodness for coffee.

6. I wonder when my new spinning wheel will arrive from Australia?

7. Which sweater should I wear today?

8. Why do perfectly good drivers turn into obnoxious morons during the holiday season? Or were they always so horrible, and there are just more of them out and about?

9. Tomorrow we are going to go-cart for awhile. Fun!

10. I better go pack a lunch for later. Bye!

Feeds a family of 6 big eaters.

Heat oven to 400*F

In a large casserole dish, layer the following:

2 cups wild rice

2 14-oz cans of chicken stock, plus 1 can of water

1 Tbsp soy sauce

1.5 cups of chopped asparagus

1 medium sized sweet potato or yam, peeled and diced into 1/2″ cubes

6 skinless chicken breasts (I like to cut them in half first for easier handling later)

Sprinkle on top of the chicken:

1 Tbsp sesame oil

1-2 tsp fresh ground black pepper

1-2 tsp Italian seasoning

2 Tbsp dried onion

Bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the chicken is done.