Chronic Ennui

Feet First

I've been away for so long, that I decided to just jump back in feet first.  Which, actually, is the way I've been living life lately.  Those of you who know me fairly well, know that I lead a very compartmentalized, controlled and risk-free sort of existence.  Somehow in the last few months, I agreed to throw caution to the wind; give up the comforts of my safe, little condo and buy a home.  A dream home. 

Or so we thought....

Oh, it's beautiful and all that.  The location (on the river) sublime.  There's even a barn for Jim's workshop with a finished loft. 

But, somehow, I was so taken by the seller's decorating that I foolishly thought, "We can move right in.  We won't have to do a thing!"  Hah!  Double HAH!  Oh, the folly.

I could tell you how the seller, who like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, took every last fixture right down to the bathroom mirrors.  She left nothing but spackled holes, forcing us to paint every room in the house.  Oh, and yeah, the last night she slept here, on our dime?  Her dog got sprayed by skunk.  "Oh, you might smell it a bit."  A bit?  A BIT?!  I might spend the next two weeks trying to get rid of the smell! 

Or I could tell you about the foreign cleaning ladies I hired to help me clean the bathrooms and kitchen and woodwork.  When I asked if they could possibly come back again, the Engish-speaking one ever so politely said, "I don't tink so." 

Or how Joey, on the first chance he got, ran out the front door and up the street towards "home."  I had to scream at him that we were going for a ride so he would come back.  Or about the unprecedented tornado that ripped through town the first weekend we moved in.  Yeah, I could tell you all of that and much, much more. 

The truth is that once we have added our touches and invest a small fortune, this house will be our dream house.  Little by little, we are unpacking, painting, adding the familiar and trying to make it our own.  For a controlled, anxiety-ridden person like myself, I am feeling as though my snow globe has been shaken. 

But I'm still spending Tuesdays with my little cut-up, and that makes me happy.

 

I have so many projects that I'm knitting in my head.  And a couple I'm actually trying to work on.  And the new Norah Gaughan book I bought to dream over.  And a big project at work.  So much swirling through my head.  Guess I'll just jump in.  Feet first.

Oh, and so far?  No ghosts!

 

Sweet Relief

They said it couldn't be done.  They said it would never happen...  But we proved them wrong, didn't we?  Because....

I finally finished my mittens!  There you go, Heather!

Oh, yeah, and that other thing too... 

YES, WE CAN! 

Precious

Sometimes you see something "Precious," and you just can't help yourself - even if you think it might not fit you when it's done, and you really don't need to be buying more yarn...  But I don't have to tell you that, do I?

When Leslie mentioned Sarah's contest, I thought about what I tend to collect.  Immediately, I remembered this post.  But is that really more of an obsession than a collection.  Then I thought some more and said, "Of course - Bunnies!"  It seems somewhat out of character for me because I'm really not the cutesy type.  I don't have stuffed animals on my bed, nor do I fill my house with tons of dust collectors.  But I do have one contained collection of bunnies that I keep in a Pottery Barn curio on my bureau.

 

I'm rather particular about my bunnies, preferring the more harelike ones to the cuter ones...  My most favorite though is one that my mom bought me when I was quite young.  It's a Steiff pompom bunny no bigger than a silver dollar. 

Oh, and, hey, know what else is quite "precious"?  You know it's coming, don't you?  Wait for it....

Happy Weekend!

OCD - It's What's for Breakfast...

From time to time I kiddingly mention that I have a "touch" of OCD.  My feeling is that I use it for good and not for evil - my house stays clean, and I knit like a fiend.  No harm done...

But one day last week when I came home for lunch, I became a bit freaked out as I emptied the dishwasher.  I was quite certain that our spoons were disappearing.  And so I counted them.  Sure enough - FIFTEEN!  Not the sixteen that makes a perfect set.  Fifteen.  I was in a tailspin! 

When Jim came home that night, I accosted him as he came through the door, "Do you have a spoon in your car?"  In fact, he did.  "How did you know that?!"  "I just know!," I told him, "And I don't like when they leave the house!"

Today, I recieved this email, "I'm holding your spoon.  Don't do anything stupid and no one will get hurt!  Await further instructions..."

Chance of Showers

Cookies are ready

Favors are done

Major gifts are ordered

THE blanket is backed (thanks, Mom!!!)

Months' worth of handknit and handpicked items are wrapped

It's been a long week with many doubts that it would all get done in time, especially considering my mom (and dad) had the stomach bug that has been going around.  But everything's ready; tomorrow is my sister's baby shower; and I can't wait!

Not Just Phoning it in

Dear Neighbor,

Me again.  I don't want to beat a dead horse, but THIS is what I'm talkin' about.

(Click photo to enlarge picture)

Do you see what's going on here?  These people (right around the corner, mind you) went the extra mile and decorated their entire house as a Pirate Ship.  That, my dear neighbor, is Halloween dedication.  You could learn a lesson from these overzealous mateys because, frankly, the 8" drakula you went back and hung from your light post is just.not.cutting.it. 

I realize that you may just be pacing yourself and that there are still six entire shopping days left until Halloween.  But at the rate you are going, I don't think you're going to make it.  Ah, well, there's always next year...

Spooky Smooches,

Kim

Note to my Spooky Neighbor

Dear Neighbor,

I realize we have not known each other for very long and that you may as yet be unfamiliar with all of my neuroses, particularly those pertaining to germs and health.  But when you set out to decorate for Halloween, it would be nice if you actually completed the job and didn't stop at say, oh, just the scary-looking, yellow tape across your front door that says, "Condemned - Keep out!"  On a stoop that WE SHARE! 

I realize I can be a bit of an over-reactor, and I later saw that it actually had bats on it.  But in light of the recent MRSA scare, and the fact that you have nary a pumpkin nor any other shred of Halloween paraphernalia in sight, it crossed my mind that perhaps I should throw on my HazMat suit, grab my dogs, and HEAD FOR THE FREAKING HILLS!  Maybe next year, it would be wiser for you to, oh, I don't know, place a small ghost or goblin about--a cobweb or two even--so that when I come back from my dog walk, I'm not ready to phone the Board of Health and alert the media! 

But, hey, that's just me.  You can do whatever you want.  I understand that you're young and don't actually "get" the whole decorating thing.  If you did, you wouldn't still use stadium chairs as your lawn furniture and hang tacky sailboat pictures in your kitchen.  I was young once too (I think).  I'm trying hard.  I WANT to like you (sort of), but you are just making it so Boo-Berry hard!

PS>  You DO know that a man died in your bedroom two years ago, right?  Godspeed!  Oh, and, hey, Happy Halloween! 

Sincerely,

The Hag Next Door (No, the OTHER Hag Next Door)

Could I BE Any Happier?

Today was my sister's 18-week ultrasound:

Time to break out the pink yarn and get it going!

Minestra di Lenticchie

Actual Recipe:

• 1 lb lentils
• 2 tbs olive oil
• 3 large stalks celery, diced
• 2 large carrots, diced
• 1 lb pancetta (bacon) or ham, chopped
• 1 tbs minced garlic
• 1 tbs sweet basil
• 1 tsp sage
• 2 bay leaves
• 6 cups chicken broth
• 2 c precooked pasta
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1/2 c freshly grated Romano Cheese

Cover the lentils with a few inches of water and soak overnight, discarding any that float to the top.  The following day, rinse the lentils and put them in a large pot, covering them again with 2 to 3 inches of water.  Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce the heat.  Simmer for 1 hour.

Add the olive oil, celery carrots, onion, pancetta, garlic, basil, sage, and bay leaves.  Simmer for 45 minutes adding more water if you need to.

When the lentils are soft and the soup is thick, stir in the chicken broth.  Continue to simmer for another 30 minutes or so, adding more water or broth to achieve the consistency you prefer.

When the soup is the proper consistency, add the pasta and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Serve in soup bowls with the grated cheese on the side.

My (much easier) version:

• 2 large cans College Inn Chicken Broth (I use low salt, low fat)
• 1 large can crushed tomatoes
• 2 tbs olive oil
• 1/2 bag lentils
• 3/4 lb small pasta (Accini Pepe or small Tubetini are good)
• 1 small onion chopped
• 3 cloves garlic (crushed)
• 1 tbs sweet basil bay leaves
• 1 tsp oregano
• salt and pepper to taste
• Grated cheese (Parmesan or Romano)

Saute onion in olive oil until soft.  Add garlic, bay leaves, salt and pepper.  Add broth and tomatoes, basil, oregano and let simmer for 45 minutes.  At the same time, boil lentils until soft.  Rinse and set aside.  Cook pasta but do not add to soup too soon or it will expand and soak up all the broth.

When soup is done, add lentils, pasta and take off heat.  Serve in bowls with grated cheese and crusty bread.

Miscellaneous Amusements - No Knitting Content

The other day at work, I overheard a coworker/friend on the phone, presumably talking to a relative.  Typically, I am able to tune out the conversations around me, but this one made my ears perk up:

"I don't like her; she poops."

"She poops.  I said, 'she poops.' And she doesn't care where she is.  I don't like that." 

Indeed!

------------

Apropos of nothing......

Did I ever show you Jim's "Happy Radishes" picture?  Sometimes a latenight snack yields a serendipitous surprise. 

Someday I will remember to type out and post my lentil soup recipe because it truly is an Italian delight.  It's not actually my recipe; it's based on Elodia Rigante's Italian Immigrant Cooking.  If you can get your hands on this book, I highly recommend it.  It's not just a cookbook--it's a little piece of history, a heartwarming story, and some incredible Italian recipes. 

Today, on the way to my LYS, practically across the street from my house, I saw this HUGE, little guy (is that an oxymoron?).  I wanted to get closer, but he was mean, and I was scared.  I still got to the yarn shop faster than he did.  Hah!

Hopefully, I will have a knitting update in the next day or so. 

Have a happy and safe Memorial Day weekend!

I am Numb

I had Novocaine for the first time last week and the second time today.  Except that today's numbfest was different because I was numb from my eyeball all the way to my throat.  And I just regained feeling in my nostril and upper lip about five minutes ago, which is a huge relief since I feared that my career as an Elvis impersonator was severely in jeopardy.  "Look, Ma, 44 and no cavities!"  Who would've thought that these young kids would want to go digging under the gums to clean and that maybe someone with my irrational fears should be numbed to the gills?

So, while I'm poking my face and searching the internets for things such as "nerve damage after dental work," I decide to tune into "American Idol."  All I can say is, "Sanjaya, what the fuck?!"  Seriously!

March Madness of a Different Kind

Typically snow days send me into a frenzy of worry and despair--Is everyone I care about home?  Will I be able to get home?  If I don't get home, will my dogs perish?  Will we lose power?  If we lose power, will we all freeze to death?, etc...  But Friday's unexpected Nor'easter (unexpected because it was in the 60's two days prior!) was somewhat of a pleasant surprise because they let us go home early from work.  And this meant a leisurely afternoon of sock knitting, tv watching, and dog cuddling. 

Normally, I'm not much of a sock knitter, but since I had one failed project, two new sock books, and some unused sock yarn, I figured it was the perfect project to begin the weekend.  After a few (one, two, three, four--who'se counting?) false starts, I think I'm on the right track now.

Once things thawed out this morning, I visited my favorite gift shop, which is in an old railroad depot.  Icicles had formed on their trellis so I snapped a few pictures hoping they'd be blogworthy.

 

But seriously, it's March 17, and we're finally getting snow now?!  It was just nice dog-walking weather about 30 seconds ago. 

The best thing about this time of year--other than the hope of some warmth and sunshine--is it gives me a good excuse to sprinkle little things like this all over the house.

Wait, I'll show you again because it's almost as cute as my dogs.

So, let's sum up.  March 17, 2007:  Green milkshakes - no.  Hot cocoa - yes.  Leprechauns and fairies - possibly. 

Dream Interpretation

I don't dream.  Or if I do, I never remember my dreams in the morning.  I've always been jealous and more than a little bit sceptical of those who relay, in elaborate detail, the dreams they had the night before.  But I suppose anything is possible. 

Jim and I were having a lazy discussion this morning, and I said, "Well, what does that have to do with anything?"  To which he replied, "I suppose it has about as much to do with it as yo-yo's."  Puzzled, I said, "What?!"  He just started laughing.

Apparently, during the night, I began moaning and saying, "Nooooooo....." with a pained expression on my face.  When Jim asked me what was wrong, without opening my eyes, I said, "They took my yo-yo away.  And I wasn't even playing with it." 

"It's alright.  Go back to sleep."  And I did, never recalling the dream or our conversation.  To my knowledge, I have never talked in my sleep before.  Nor do I have any idea why they would take my yo-yo or what the significance of that is.  But I do know it was unfair.  I mean, you can just tell from the fact that I wasn't even playing with it!  Don't you think?

They better not even think about taking my silly putty!

Highly Overrated

I never much cared for New Year's Eve and all of the expectations it holds for fresh starts and resolutions.  Because, let's face it--I'll be no more on my way to losing those extra 15 pounds tomorrow than I am today.  And the buttery lobster I downed in celebratory fashion is not going to help me get their either.  At best, the 5 oz. of one mike's hard cranberry lemonade I've had this evening has caused me to get silly as shit and sing this to the dogs.  Jim just shakes his head and laughs in wonder at what a lightweight I am. 

Joey prays for the madness to end:

All in all, this picture sums up my feelings about all the hoopla -- Resigned Indifference.

Oh yeah, "Happy New Year!"

Stop the Insanity

Aren't they pretty?  $5.25 on clearance at TJ Maxx!  The happy man at the register exclaimed, "My, aren't they lovely!  What will you do with them?"  What indeed?  I don't know.  But I love the colors, and I will work them into my holiday display.  Besides, they match the new glass ornaments on my mantle.  Is it December 25 yet?  Please?

Text Message Just Received from my Sister (and I quote):  "It's always great, after doing endless hours of shopping, to then wrap and realize you bought shit." 

When All Else Fails.... Bake!

Shopping done?  Nope.

Wrapping?  Nope.

Decorating?  Check!

Baking?  Check!

See these?  Know what they are?

No, not "cocka balls" like we called them when I was a kid.  They are Super Secret Italian Chocolate Spice cookies or "Todo's".  And don't ask me for the recipe because I won't give it to you.  Unless you ask, of course.  There's a long story about how my mother obtained it from a cousin and was only given it under the strict order that it never, EVER, under any circumstance, be given to anyone else.  Yeah, I think that lasted about six months.  Needless to say, the cousin found out about it and was angry with her for a good, long time.  I have never understood that mentality.  But I'm not an old-school Italian either.

I undertook this arduous task with the idea that my mother and sister would be helping in the merriment.  Thank God for Jim because not only did they abandon me for the sweeter pastures of the mall, but this recipe requires 16 (count 'em six-f'ing-teen!) cups of flour!  There is no way the dough would ever fit in my beloved KitchenAide Mixer no matter how perfect it may seem.  So, I dug deep within myself and figured that if my ancestors could mix batches of dough this huge by hand, then so could I!  I started off well enough, but I think that upper-arm strength was weened out of me by all the knitting.  So, Jim to the rescue.  Good guy that he is, he washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves and dug right in there with me.  I remembered the bumper sticker I had seen that said, "Justa Keepa Go", and four hours later, this batch of cookies was "finito." 

The chocolate cookies were like swinging two bats before hitting--everything after that seemed easy by comparison.  I was on a roll.  Next, I tackled the easy-breezy, 12-cups-of-flour Anise Bar cookies  Behold:

And, of course, I always make "Snowballs" (Russian Tea Cakes).  No problem!

But Ina Garten's Coconut Macaroon Cookies did not fare as well.  Sigh.

Disjointed Holiday Thoughts

Well, it's no Newbury Street windowbox, but I think it came out pretty nice.  I have to wonder what happened to me in childhood that made me so fixated with urns and topiaries as an adult. 

Jim is watching Lord of the Rings, and I think Bilbo Baggins said it best: "I feel... thin. Sort of stretched, like...butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday."

The official, full-blown Christmas panic has set in, and I continue to busy myself with decorating and knitting and cleaning--anything that will deflect from the actual shopping left to be done.  Amazingly, the difficult people to shop for on my list are done, but I have no idea what to buy for my dad.  And I still have my brother and brother-in-law left on my list as well. 

So, basically, I put all that right out of my mind, and we took a ride to the quaint town of Essex, Connecticut, this afternoon.  If I ever hit the Lotto (Oh, right, you actually have to play to win), I am buying a house on the water in Essex.  There are only a handful of shops in Essex, but they are unique.  As luck would have it, today was the annual Holiday Stroll replete with horse-drawn carriage rides and carolers. 

I  bought the most adorable mittens made from recycled sweaters patchworked together and lined with fleece for my mom.  I would have taken a picture of them because they are just that precious; however, the saleslady at Stoneware Clothing wrapped them in a pretty brown box with with brown and beige taffeta ribbon and gold sparkle polka dots.  I practically skipped out of the store! 

There are a couple of other cute stores in Essex that I always make sure to check out--The French Hen and A Pocketful of Posies.  See, doesn't that even sound cute?!  Even when I don't buy anything, I leave there with ideas and inspiration. 

Well, my Christmas Cards came today; so at least I can begin to address those and ruminate about how much there is still left to do. 

May the closeness of friends and the comforts of home renew your spirits this holiday season...

Subtle Differences

We took our second-annual-after-Thanksgiving trip to Boston yesteday.  The ducks are doing fine, thank you very much.

On the way home, we stopped and bought a new pre-lit tree; and today I went out and bought new ornaments because I'm sick of the same colors I've been looking at for three Christmas seasons.  I tried to introduce Tiffany blue even though it's "so last year," but I don't think I really pulled it off.  It's a subtle change, but I like it.  It's difficult to see the blue glass ornaments on the mantle; they're so much prettier in person. 

I bought a bunch of the same blue-colored ornaments for the tree, but they lose a little something when you add the obligatory sentimental ornaments to the group.  Oh well....

I also found these three little birdies that I thought looked cute nestled in (what else?) an urn(!).

And still no actual Christmas shopping completed.

I'm Really Trying...

I started decorating this morning.  I was going to get ambitious and change things up a bit from last year, but I'm tired and full of turkey and don't really have the same enthusiasm as a few years ago when the place was still new (to me) and freshly painted.  So, here's a picture of the fake mantle from last year, which looks identical to the fake mantle this year:

And here's what the pre-lit tree (in an urn!) would look like this year if it actually lasted more than three years even after changing all the fuses and fighting like a regular married couple.  Mom?  Dad?  Is that you? 

Now, let's see...  What's left?  Oh, right.  The dreaded SHOPPING!!!

Let's cleanse the palate with another picture from last year.  It's the Ralph Lauren Shop on Newbury Street in Boston.  I loved their window boxes and thought I might try to imitate them.   Lovely, no?

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Crisis

Wait, let me check.... Yep, 42 years later, and this still pretty much sums up my feelings about the holidays.

Oh, how I am dreading the next month of stress and pressure to find the perfect gifts for everyone on my list when all I really want to do is curl up in the fetal position and wake up on January 1. 

I don't really care what I get or if I even get anything.  I don't even care how much money I spend.  In fact, I would gladly fork over a couple grand to someone if they would absorb my stress and buy my presents for me.  But who am I kidding?  I would never do that.  I am a control freak, and I would never trust anyone else to do my bidding.  And this is the crux of my problem. 

I drive myself crazy with the gift buying.  I don't like to buy too early because I fear I will find something better later in the season.  I have been known to buy gifts and then return them when I find something better weeks later.  Or worse, I may over-gift if I buy too early because the longer I have to ponder my decisions, the more I think I need to spend.  And don't even get me started on the whole fairness issue.  If I spent this much on one person, then I need to spend the same amount on that person.  And God forbid I catch a great sale, and it "looks" like I spent more on one person than another because that will just throw me right into another gift-buying tailspin. 

The entire process doesn't end until December 23, when I am just too exhausted to drag my ass back to mall one more time, and I realize that I had better get to wrapping said presents.  And I am still second-guessing myself right up until Christmas Day, and then *Poof* -- it's all over.  And I'm left to wonder what all the fuss was about anyway.  Oh, right, something about a child in a manger, right? 

Note to self:  Stock up on Xanax.

I Heart Martha!

This took way more time than I expected, but I think the results are pretty cute:

Smitten

I am in love with my new J. Crew Waxed-canvas Cambridge tote. 

 

It’s a relationship that is still in its infancy, where one takes extra special care not to abuse it.  For now, I love everything about this bag.  I love that it is a tote and that it is the perfect size – not too big, but big enough to fit all of my stuff and still have room to spare.  I love that it is quilted and soft, but sturdy enough to maintain its original shape.  I love that the leather trim is supple and not stiff like “other bags” I’ve known before.  And I especially love the little, leather tassels on the front that let people know that, yes, this is somewhat preppy, but it's stylish enough for me to feel good about. 

That fact that this bag is a bit of a departure for me hasn’t swayed me yet.  Of course, I am secretly hoping that my friends and family will like it too.  But I brought it to a family party last weekend, and no one said a word.  I showed it to my sister, who noncommittally said, “That’s nice.”  But I knew she didn’t see what I saw in it. 

Oh, I know that someday soon I will begin to see the flaws.   I will note that the lining is navy blue while the outside is black or that the handles could be just a tiny bit longer or that that snaps don't stay closed as well as they should.  And some mock crock bag that’s out of my league may turn my head, and the Cambridge will get pushed to the back of my closet.  But I’ll just give it the old, “It’s not you, it’s me” speech like so many others before it because, deep down, I am a pocketbook whore.