Six Below

That was the temperature when I left to go to the chiropractor this morning--six degrees below zero.  Brr.  At least it was sunny.  Sunny makes up for a lot this time of year, at least in my estimation.  It's cold enough that not all of the birds come to the feeders in the morning but this male Downy Woodpecker is my most constant visitor.  I enjoy watching him work on the seeds and today I noticed how fluffed up he is.  Gotta stay warm.

Speaking of staying warm I put on my plaid flannel jumper and red fleece leggings this morning and had a severe case of static cling whenever I walked.  It wasn't until I got home from my errand that I remembered how we used to get around that in the olden days.  We wore a slip.  I just happened to have a black half-slip in my sock drawer, so I dug it out and put it on, and it hung 4" below my hem, so I hoisted it up under my bra, and it was perfect.  I may be lopping off a few inches so that it's more comfy.  No maybe about it, I'm definitely cutting it off tomorrow.  I might even re-hem it.



On my way home I stopped at Walmart for a box of Rice Krispies and some raisins so I could make a double batch of WW Granola.  I also stopped at Goodwill for a couple glass jars to keep it in.  (I feel like I'm on a glass jar jag, I like them better than ziplok bags; it's a good thing Goodwill is right up the street.)  I pawed through the dried fruit I have on hand and made one batch with the recommended craisins and raisins, the other batch I used up the dried apricots and a couple dried figs.  I cut those up into raisin-size pieces so they'd be evenly distributed.  The house smelled great the rest of the day.  Baking nuts and grains and honey.  Yum.

I spent the afternoon waiting for the sister of my renter to stop over to get her spare house keys.  I got a text this morning from my renter--from her honeymoon in Rome--that her sister had locked herself out of her house and would I please let her in to get the spare set?  Sure.  So after the granola was done I had to sit on the couch with my knitting watching episodes of The Great British Baking Show on Netflix.  Had to. Said sister arrived around 3:30, got her keys, and drove off.  I kept knitting and watching. I added quite a bit to the brioche cowl and feel like I'm starting to understand the technique.  I still don't think I could fix a mistake but I'll get there.

4 March--Tropical Obsession. 

Sharon stood in the shallows glaring at the horizon, the blood warm salt water caressing her skin. It was nearly sunset. She felt the last golden rays painting their heat on her skin and tugging reluctant tears from her eyes. The color of the water changed with each passing moment from the bright turquoise of full day to the color it was right then, a rich navy blue. The ever-present tradewinds had stopped and the water's surface was barely rippled like the best silk taffeta of her favorite cocktail dress. Cocktails. What a good idea. She was sure she had enough time to make another pitcher of planter's punch before Diego came back from his mysterious errand.

I am definitely going to the Y tomorrow to walk around and around and around--or maybe I'll walk on a treadmill, but I feel like a slug.  For some reason my enthusiasm for going has waned and I need to rekindle it.  I'll think of something.
--Barbara

Happy & Sad

Today's toss is both happy and sad.


Happy because the shallow underbed storage box held a doll quilt made by my Great-grandma Barbara Stephan, a kitchen embroidery of herbs and animals that Mom made, my first needlepoint sampler, a crewel embroidery of a squirrel in a tree, and the set of 12 bear quilt blocks that Grandma Angermeier set me to embroidering when I was about 8 years old.  I do not know why they never got turned into a baby quilt or doll quilt but there they are all sewn with no place to go.  Maybe I'll get some quilt fabric, finally cut them apart, and piece together a quilt top.  One of these days.


Sad because in the same box were the quilts that Durwood's mom made for DS and DD.  The orange one is crib-size (folded in half in the photo) with coloring book pictures she traced onto the fabric then sewed around them in running stitch with embroidery floss, stuffing a little fiberfill into the design before finishing each one.  The yellow one she made 2 1/2 years later when her forgetfulness had turned into full-blown Alzheimer's disease.  She has a few traced shapes on there and they are stuffed but... well, it makes me weep to see the undeniable change in her.  I wish I could say that she died within a year or so after she made this but DD was close to 6 years old when she passed.  That was a very long time to watch her sink into dementia.  I don't wish that on my worst enemy.


On to happier thoughts.  I had another assistant today and we made our favorite cornbread, carrot, cheddar waffles for lunch.  We played school, tossed things down the laundry chute and then retrieved them only to toss them down again, drew pictures and colored, made microwave popcorn, and she watched me take in the waistband of her pants.  She so tall and slender that pants that are long enough slide right off within a few steps, which is very awkward at school.  I'm thinking she needs a wardrobe of belts.  We hoped to snowshoe but it was too darned cold plus we found too many amusements indoors.  Next time.

While paging through an All-Recipes magazine the other day I happened upon a recipe for Easy Egg Drop Soup which sounded so good... that I made it tonight.  What I liked most about it was the paragraph under the name that suggested adding mushrooms, cooked chicken, snow peas, or bok choy to make it heartier.  By happy chance I had mushrooms, chicken, and bok choy on hand.  Hooray!  I also threw caution to the winds and added 1/4 teaspoon of dark sesame oil for the flavor boost.  It was the exact right thing for supper tonight and probably will be tomorrow night too.  Even with all my additions a 1-1/4 cup serving costs only 1 WW Freestyle point making it delicious and virtuous at the same time.


3 March--Tropical Obsession. 

The sun was high when Nola finally awoke and squinted her way out to the patio. Maria was in the kitchen clattering pots around but she took a moment to carry a mug of fresh-made coffee out and set it silently on a palm fiber mat on the glass-topped table. Her fingers rested ever so fleetingly on Nola's shoulder as she turned to go back to her work. Tears sprang to Nola's eyes at the simple gesture. The news of Jack's death must be all over the island, she thought. In the center of the table sat a clear glass bowl; three flowers floated on the surface, their yellow centers looking like a pinwheel of yolk in a fried egg. The petals were so waxy she had to touch them to see if they were real. She had the feeling that nothing would seem real for a time until she was allowed to leave the island and begin building a new life on the shreds of the old one that had died with Jack.

Tomorrow is the 1965 St. Agnes grad lunch.  I'm looking forward to it because last month's lunch was cancelled due to icy roads.  I'm hungry for a cheeseburger.  Also tomorrow is my chiro appointment which I am also looking forward to because my activities of the last couple of weeks have awakened the dragon that lives in my left, ex-broken ankle and Dr. Paula will make it better.  She will also temporarily relieve the constant kink that lives between my shoulder blades.  Worth every penny.
--Barbara

Snow, Again

This time I woke up to a few inches, maybe 4", of fluffy snow but the plow had been by so I had to go out and clear the driveway.  It's a good thing I did because the plow deposited all of the chunks I hacked off of the iceberg he knocked off the drift the other day back into the driveway.  The snowblower wasn't thrilled to have to deal with them but it mostly managed to fling them.



I noticed this morning that the level of the snow on the patio has risen to about 6" below the birdbath.  Any more snow and the bunnies will be able to stand up there and drink along with the birds.




 
Speaking of birds, this House Finch has been getting pinker lately.  I take heart when the males start becoming more vivid which means they're putting on their mating plumage so maybe spring really is on the way.  The Juncos haven't moved back to the arctic so I know it isn't happening next week but soon.  There are more bird songs to. The other day I heard a Red-tailed Hawk, didn't see it but I heard it, and I also heard a Cardinal.  A few stay the winter but they don't sing much.





This Bluejay had a grand time swooping in on a squawk to nab a peanut and then get right back into the apple tree to pound the shell and eat the nut.





 
My assistant and I went to the (indoor) Farmer's Market this morning because I was almost out of eggs and I figured I could get a dozen really fresh eggs there and I did, along with carrots, mushrooms, radish sprouts, a couple kids' books, a couple bags, and 2 sugar donuts from Lucia who makes wonderful tamales too.



I didn't have much knitting time today but I did add an inch or so of foot to the Zauber Campfire sock.  Pretty soon I'll get to 6", add waste yarn, and switch yarns, then work my way back up to the other cuff.




2 March--Tropical Obsession. 

The stars hang closer in the tropics. Santiago steered the Santa Marta out of the little bay on the north coast of Venezuela he called home. The stink of the aging diesel was pulled out of the cabin when he reached the open ocean and pushed the throttles to their stops. He took one last glance over his shoulder to bid farewell to the orange spot that was the fire his wife Marta always lit on the beach when he left, but he had waited too long to turn, he couldn't see it. A bolt of panic shot through his guts, the superstition of bad luck at the change in routine churned his stomach and made his knees feel loose. "Stupid peasant," he said, running his fingers over the religious medal he wore around his neck and making a little bow to the statue of the Virgin duct taped to the console. He pictured the warm orange light of Marta's fire as he looked out at the waves painted pale blue and white by the cold light of the stars. Manning would be waiting and he, Santiago, would soon be rich enough to buy a new engine for his boat, with a bit left over for a few sparkly things for his Marta.

I heard from DS this morning that this was the snowiest February on record in parts of Wisconsin but we didn't get as much snow last month as we got in that 3-day blizzard last April.  I think we got 24" in that storm, we got "only" 20.9" last month.  It's enough.
--Barbara

4-Star Finished!

I did it!  This morning I folded the newspaper in half and tackled the 4-star Sudoku--and solved it.  It didn't take me all day either.  Hooray!  I felt so smart, especially after I covered the Jumble (which I couldn't figure out) with my coffee mug.  I spent the rest of the morning working on spiffing up three first pages and getting them in the mail to the Writers' Institute Page or Poem Contest.  I have no clue what I'd win if I won which I probably won't, it just says "prizes awarded."  Personally I'm hoping for a smiley face or an OK on one of them.



It's snowing again (arrgh!) but I don't think we're supposed to get much.  This morning the sun was out for a short while and I thought you'd like to see how deep the snow is around the birdseed cans.  The cans are about 2 feet tall.  Behind the end one are stacked the rectangular planters so it's not all snow back there but I feel that this is plenty snow.




This afternoon I went over to CS's house along with a clutch of other knitters and learned to knit two-color brioche in the round.  I am by no means proficient at it and I certainly can't fix any booboos I might make but I am very pleased with how it looks and how I'm doing.  Of course my fingers ache from the death grip I've had on my knitting needles most of the day.  But we had a lot of laughs, got better acquainted, and learned something new.  A successful day.




Tonight I sewed a little jet button I found downstairs on the teeny tiny purse I knitted this week.  Isn't it just the cutest thing?  I think that the purse is too big, I'll make the next one smaller.





1 March--Tropical Obsession. 

Deep under the water the treasure lay waiting. Waiting for hands to take it up, to pull it into the light and air after centuries spent on the bottom under a pile of timbers. The sea had done its best to claim the treasure for its own. Queen angelfish hovered over it, delicately nibbling on the algae-filled coral polyps that obscured the outline through the years. In a very short time the human taint was diluted in the sea. All that remained was the cold metallic tang and the sharp sap of the planks crushed by being driven onto the reef by a long-forgotten storm. Silver blackened and welded together by the salt water held the shape of containers long dissolved or rotted away but the gold lay as yellow and gleaming as the day it was smuggled aboard.

Maybe if I'm lucky it won't snow too much tonight and I can skip shoveling tomorrow.  Probably not.  It's better if I clear the driveway so there's concrete exposed for the tires to grab onto.  But it's March 1 so we'll have maybe 6 more weeks of real winter.  She says with her fingers crossed.
--Barbara