Last night we went to the Bellevue Botanical Garden d’Lights – which is a beautiful thing to see. In this dreary time of year when our gardens are looking pretty pathetic, they create a landscape of lights. Flowers, plants, trees, and even animals are depicted in thousands of brilliant bulbs. I didn’t have my regular camera, so you’ll have to pardon these craptastic cell phone pictures – hopefully you can see past the blurriness to appreciate the artwork.

This gorgeous little vineyard was being threatened by the cutest bunny:

This pond display was fantastic. That “fountain” in the center was created with twinkling lights so it looked like moving water.

What is hard to depict is the scale. Some of these are really quite tall – the “cattails” on the right are actual size, roughly 6′ – 7′ tall.

They placed many lighted flowers where the real things bloom and grow; there were clumps of daisies, lilies, sunflowers, hyacinths, hollyhocks, red hot pokers, dahlias, and so many more. Arbors of wisteria and golden chain flowers, forsythia, flax, and flowering cherry trees. If you are in the area I highly recommend you visit; they operate on donations.

Here’s just one reason that I enjoy working where I do – they do stuff like this:

Throw carpet samples out on the floor when they are trying to pick colors & patterns for a project. I think it’s fun!

(the balloons are celebrating the recent passing of the Architecture Registration Exams by one of our employees!)

Here’s more, right outside my office:

I woke up this morning determined to find some joy and peace. I tried, I really did. I even put makeup on today.

When I left the house, there was a car parked in front of our driveway (blocking it). The dome light was on, and a guy was standing outside the front door at the neighbor’s house, smoking. Every now and then someone next door will park in front of our driveway for a few minutes, so I didn’t think anything of it. My car was parked on the street, right in front of the blocking car.

I went to work. Was buried in paperwork. A couple of hours passed and my husband called to say there was a car blocking the driveway, and it wasn’t the neighbor’s, so he called the police and discovered that the car had been reported stolen.

And left at our house.

Blocking our driveway.

Facing (and almost touching) MY car.

Which was stolen a few months back, and recovered – with the punk still in the car. He was arrested, but being a juvenile he squirted through the system pretty quickly and, I would guess, without any lasting remorse for his crimes.

Yes, I think it was the same punk and that he dumped the car at my house as a message that he was out and back on the streets, jacking cars.

Try as I may, I can’t seem to get my attitude in a positive light; I just want to hang the car thief by his thumbs and let the crows peck at his tender parts.

Bah.

The holidays are looming and instead of feeling merry and bright I find myself feeling crabby and full of spite. I know, I know: I have much to be thankful for. And I am. Thankful, that is… But the holiday spirit is completely evading me at the moment and I just feel like complaining. So I’m going to. Because this is my blog. pffft.

1. I still don’t have cards done, and it’s not looking like I’ll get them out before Christmas.

2. My hair is totally and completely driving me crazy. I have this piece in the center of my forehead that defies my attempts at controlling it, and instead falls straight down into my eyes. Plus, it is seriously fully of static.

3. My house overrunneth with clutter. Much of it is holiday-related, but a fair amount of it is teenager-related.

4. What is up with people who scuff their heels as they walk? STOP IT! PICK UP YOUR FEET!

5. I’m totally missing my mom. It’s been six years, but Christmas is still tough.

6. I’m totally missing my dad, too. I miss putting together a box of Christmas goodies for him. I miss getting his letters. I miss his jokes.

7. My beta, Max, ate the bottom feeder in my fish tank.

8. I think my car needs new shocks. And there’s a funny smell in it (probably mildew).

9. Why can’t people clean up after themselves? I’m skipping over kids with this rant and focusing on ADULTS, who should darned well know better. Like at work, why do people stack their dirty dishes in the sink instead of washing them? There is no magic dish fairy (I know, I’ve been waiting for one to appear at my house for twenty years).

10. What is up with dog walkers who let their dogs stretch their leashes all the way across the sidewalk, completely blocking it for anyone who happens to have the gall to want to walk on the sidewalk?

11. What is up with dog owners who don’t think that small dogs need to be trained? I don’t care if your dog only weighs two pounds, it should be trained to not jump up on people, to not drag the leash across the sidewalk, to not yap at everything that moves.

12. And why do owners of small dogs think it’s OK to bring them into stores and restaurants, just because they are tucked into ridiculous purses / bags / baby carriers? I would bet my new undies that those same people would scream bloody murder if I brought my 120-pound dog into the grocery store.

13. I’m also fed up with people who can’t park within the lines in a parking lot.

14. And people who block the grocery store aisle with their kids/cart/basket while they weigh the merits of Fat-Free Miracle Whip over the regular kind.

15. And parents that don’t pay attention to their kids in stores and totally ignore them knocking stuff off shelves, grabbing candy, shrieking, running amok, and disturbing grouchy folks like me who just want to buy Nyquil and get the heck out of there before the snot-factories crank their screams up another notch.

16. It’s cloudy and rainy, and some snow would be nice for the holidays. But no, it’s cloudy and rainy.

17. I need to iron about fifty gagillion blouses so that I have something to wear. People are starting to notice that I’ve been rotating the five no-wrinkle shirts in my wardrobe every week.

18. I really need to do something about my furry legs, but I can’t muster up the energy. Besides, it’s like built-in leg warmers right now.

19. The constant stream of candy, cookies, and other assorted goodies through the office is wreaking havoc with my ‘eat healthy’ plans. My willpower has been tested and breached.

20. It’s 78*F in my office, but some of my coworkers still have their space heaters cranked up to Hotter Than Hades.

I want to just sit in my comfy chair with a cup of tea and knit for a few days.

This is a delicious glaze for fish, chicken, or pork (probably not a good match for beef or other dark meat).  We had it on cod a few nights ago and it was well received by the housemates.

1/2 cup real maple syrup (get the real stuff, not the corn syrup crap)

1/2 cup apple cider vinegar

2 Tbsp good mustard, the kind with whole mustard seeds (not the bright yellow picnic paste stuff)

pinch of kosher salt

1 Tbsp orange marmalade (perfect for using those tiny jars you get in meat & cheese gift sets)

1 clove garlic, minced

tiny bit of freshly ground pepper

Instructions: mix all together in a small saucepan and simmer gently until slightly reduced & thickened (about 5-10 minutes) – you can do this while your meat is baking.  Spoon the glaze over the fish / meat just a couple of minutes before taking it out of the oven; you want it to caramelize a little but not burn.

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!