One Fun Day at the Fair

Saturday, despite the heat and traffic, we bravely ventured to the Cape to the Barnstable County Fair. Turned out, the heat wasn't so bad. The traffic however, was. We arrived bright and early, and while there was not a great amount of livestock, and most were untouchable due to the heat, we did meet the following fine creatures:

Friendly floppy-eared goats.

Gentle giant draft horses.

And just a few humming alpacas.
But my favorite part of course was the teensy-weensy knitting & spinning exhibit, where the homespun yarn and projects were displayed, along with some soft fleece and rovings. As you can see, a big yellow sign proclaimed "please feel free to touch the fleece!"
I was happy to oblige. Here you can see me with my atrocious grin, testing the fiber for that 'twinging' sound...
Coming tomorrow, my pictures of the winning yarn and projects. I was impressed, yet saddened by how few entries there were-please please please all you Boston-area and south shore knitters and spinners get together and submit your work! I don't mean to insult the great work I saw saturday, but I have seen LOVELY fibers and colorways on your blogs that would give them all a good run for their money!

(I can't wait for the Marshfield Fair!)

What is Your Superpower?

Breaking my goal of avoiding TV, I watched "Who Wants to be a Superhero?" for kicks last night. The contestants were absolute characters, and did their best to stay IN character as well. This morning it left me wondering, what kind of superhero could I be? Phil's superpowers are clear enough, heck, he's already a living breathing action figure. You would just have to pick between GI Joe and Supercop. But what about me? With all my interests and hobbies, I MUST be able to come up with something. Something better than that damn "cell phone girl" or "monkey woman"

So on my drive to work this morning (all 40 minutes of it) I tried to come up with my superhero alter ego. It wasn't easy- I decided that superpowers should be derived from an inherent personality or physical trait, so "Mega Shoe-Shopping Girl" wasn't a strong idea. Finally, I determined (in true Heather fashion) that I could turn some of my faults into skills that work in my favor. Brilliant! The things I wish I could change about myself would become precious to me! My shortcomings would turn into protective powers, such as my annoying laugh or inability to dance could be used to frighten away or nauseate a villain or attacker. My terrible housekeeping would ensure that my secret lair was safe from attack! A-HA!

Since I hate my cheeky grin the most, I propose my superhero identity be known as "The Grinner" ...

The End is Near!

I have never been so excited to start ribbing. Just a few more inches to go and I can finish the neckline and sleeves. I'm definitely looking for a more complicated sweater next time-this project would have taken less time, I believe, if I had been more focused on the development, or had something to be a little more proud of, say cables and bobbles? Instead I absolutely HATED picking it up every night, and would do just a row or two before I tossed it aside. Almost there!

A Tuesday Babble

Since blogger adamantly refuses to upload my latest progress, hooray for my latest delivery of books! I decided to renew my love affair with Susan Orlean's books and articles from The New Yorker. She also wrote for some time in our area for a few Boston publications. I first read her work in high school, when Mrs Sholar (mean wench) ordered us to write articles and stories in the style of our favorite writers-mine were James Joyce, and for brevity I chose Orlean. In retrospect I think the assignment was fluffy and weak-instead of understanding their style and prose, just imitate them! Sure...

Nevertheless, it was fun and quick writing. I loved the way Orlean found direction and stirred interest in the mundane in her book "Saturday Night." I was thinking about it on one of my own saturday nights some time ago, when I had been cooerced into bar-hopping with some people I barely knew. (Growing up I had always felt like there was no place I truly belonged-being an anthropology student allowed me to "use" this feeling of being an outsider to my best advantage by being an active observer.) Well, I had never felt like more of an outsider than at that moment- clearly I did not belong to this group of pretty 20-somethings (and I say that generously because I swear one of the women could have passed for 40-45 if you had peeled her out of her crimson club-wear and done something with her bleached-blonde hair.)

I joined them as they collected at some new Boston nightspot, where they had reserved a table by calling ahead for an order of champagne. The lounge was a bit bare, but thematically decorated in some kind of woodsy theme, with bamboo walls and bars. The dress code appeared to be a cross of late 90's Urban Outfitters and DEB, with the exception of myself (tshirt and jeans). As the night wound down and I stared wistfully at the door, the "women of indeterminable age" began to dance with one another in the nearly empty lounge. Their next attempt to create a party where none existed involved snapping pictures of themselves in ridiculous poses, leading me to wonder if there was some sort on event or happening that I had missed. Had someone won the lottery? Reached their 45th birthday perhaps? Nope, someone handed me a camera so I could take their group shot, the sultry and ridiculous faces no likely to be posted on someone's MYSPACE page the next day.

Now I know Susan Orleans never intended to document this sort of saturday night at all, but when I finally escaped home that night, it did lead me to wonder what is it about saturday nights that are special? Why do we reserve all our excited for THAT ONE NIGHT? I personally prefer thursdays.....

Where's Waldo?

Every weekend we have a wonderful time; spend time with family, go to parties, dinners and have lots of QT (quality time), yet I discover the next monday that I have very few pictures to prove it! Monday is the day when I want to remember the weekend, every sunny relaxing moment. Sitting in my grey cubicle, surrounded by vomit-green walls and artificial lighting, I plug in the Olympus camera. True to form, I have taken FOUR pictures. Four. *sigh* And of course not a single one of myself. Just take my word for it-I was there.

Here's Mr. Wonderful, whipping up some virgin strawberry daquiris for me. He's grinning however, because he made one for little Curtis as well, who has his mother convinced that he has stolen off with someone's cocktail...

I know my blog has been very skant on the knitting theme, but the sweater from hell was along for the ride, of course. When it began to pour I snuck a spot under the tent and went to work, at which point an onlooker snidely said, "You don't do anywhere without that, do you?"

Sweet Italian Sausage w/Peppers and Potatoes (SISPP)

I made this last night for the Fab 5 as a first course and it was quite a hit:

1 jar diced tomatoes
3-4 fresh basil leaves
5-6 Sweet Italian Sausage
5 sm Red potatoes
2 red peppers (sliced)
2 green peppers (sliced)
1 tsp diced garlic
2 tbsp olive oil

Brown the sausage in a large saucepan lightly and set aside for later. Bake potatoes (I microwaved them for 8 minutes-make sure you pierce them with a fork first or POP goes the microwave!) Pour the can of diced tomatoes in the saucepan, and over low heat add the red and green peppers, basil, and diced darlic. Let simmer for a few minutes while you chop the sausage and potatoes. Add sausage, chopped potatoes, and olive oil to the sauce pan and let simmer covered over low/medium heat for 15 minutes. Add sea salt, fresh ground pepper and organo as you like, and serve when the peppers are nice and soft. Be careful when stirring not to let the potatoes fall apart...

I served this to the girls as a first course with fresh ciabatta bread (and I forgot the dipping oil!) It was a good starter for the five of us, so it would probably make enough for dinner for two if you served it with a side of pasta or risotto. I know the leftovers will be a tasty lunch for me today.
(I should note that I stole this idea from Mamma Mia's in Plymouth, but improvised in order to reduce the fat and starch content. No one needs all that oil and a million potatoes!)

How Not to Announce the Big News:

Well, I suppose it's that time-after all, I broke the news at work this week, and that has gone over pretty well. I'm a little frustrated that my future mommy-ness isn't obvious yet, but that will happen soon enough. We already have two other people in the office who are proudly sporting "the bump" and I want so badly to join the club!

To be perfectly honest, I absolutely love pregnancy so far. Not to boast, but there hasn't been any sickness or mood swings, nor any bizarre cravings. In fact, even though I'm carrying around some extra weight I feel downright....well, foxy!


Phil is so proud of me. But I also think Phil is quite proud of himself, and his own achievement here. It's so adorable. Maybe it's the hormones talking, but I find EVERYTHING adorable. Is that strange? I find myself anxiously awaiting a big belly, browsing maternity wear online, and secretly wishing I could fit myself into those stretchy clothes already. Well, here's my secret:

Several years ago my cousin Abby became pregnant. Before that happened I thought you would never get my ass in that situation- I dreaded the stretching, the body shape, the nausea, the inhibiting factors of a modified pregnancy diet. I saw pregnant women as "breeders" and thought that having a child meant a final end to my youthful ways. But one day all that changed.


I watched my sweet younger cousin with amazement as she went through her pregnancy- I watched her become more beautiful with each passing month, and I learned that essentially she lost none of the qualities that I admired in her. Abby was still bright, funny, smart, and absolutely gorgeous. She hadn't changed at all.

In fact, she had improved.

I could go on, but she also acquired this fantastic way of walking when she was in her last trimester. I called it a waddle, but it was really nothing of the sort. It was this great walk with a new center of gravity- leant toward the back with belly forward. It was so beautiful to me, I was downright jealous. THAT'S the part I look forward to the most. (Well, other than our appointment in 2 weeks where we may find out if we have a little boy or girl, but don't get me started.)

How Fast Does Wool Burn?

If I don't get somewhere on this soon we may find out.
It is deceptive-I'm almost finished with the body, but with that low-slung neckline you would think I was making a tunic.
My co-workers arrive every day in sparkling-new adorable outfits, and I'm still working on the same damn sweater after three months? When its done I had better feel the experience to be rewarding or I am taking up a new craft!

Maybe fingerpainting. Or making those lawn decorations that look like a toadstool or a woman beding over in a polka-dotted skirt.

Stupidity!

Last night my mom (Blogless Sharon) came over, bearing a delicious homemade dinner and her spinning wheel. We had a beautiful sunday evening knitting and spinning on my back deck, and did I even think to take a picture? What is wrong with me? Mom was plying her very own wool from Big Boy, a border leicester, and it looked so warm-I can't wait to see what she does with it!

I can, however, present you with before and after pictures of my finished curtains. Very cutesy, but they'll do just fine:
Ooh La La..

Saturday had to be one of the best days EVER. Phil took the day off form work, so we went out for breakfast and then took the kayaks for a spin down White Horse and Manomet Beach. The water was so clear and aquamarine that you could see the crabs sparring in the sand down below! If it weren't for the high UV factor I could have stayed out there all day. Buuut then I wouldn't have been able to shower and get pretty to go out that night-girls night out! My favorite-humid nights in Plymouth mean cold drinks by the harborside and a great band. God, I love this place!

Woohoohooo I am so tired! We had a blast at the game last night, and NO, I did not bring my knitting. I chickened out of course. How are you supposed to knit while you're holding a basket of french fries anyways? Well, poor Phil had to sit in front on two of the most obnoxious girls. He doesn't look too happy....



Then we had the great fortune of being seated behind this guy, with the cherry-red face. His entire purpose for the game was to get noticed by the cameras, and blocked most of the action with his directional arm-waving (and if you heard the score, you'd know it didn't help much)

My mission for tomorrow is to finish those curtains and start hunting for a bed for our guest room! I may also sneak in two hours of beach time, since its supposed to be lovely. If I succeed in my task, I suppose I could slip out saturday night to the Cabby Shack to meet up with my friends....but we'll see.

You know what they say, all work and no play.....

Hmm? What Is This?

Make a guess at where Miss Heather may be going tonight. Here's a hint; this little bag is sitting next to my feet today. Contents:
1 light and comfy shirt
1 pair of sneakers
1 pair of cargo pants
1 pink baseball hat
1 unfinished sweater

If you said I would most likely be knitting at the Red Sox/Oakland game tonight you have guessed right!

Oh Kitty Where Art Thou?

Still crossing my fingers that Nina will return. Thank you all for your support- Its hard to lose a buddy you've had for twelve years. Especially one so tiny and cute.

On a happier note, I have a horde of cops coming to my house tonight- No, we're not under arrest for being a nuisance to the neighborhood. Its a barbeque, so if you're a badge-toting badboy (or girl) in blue, please feel free to stop by for dogs, burgers, and chicken. Just remember, Project Runway starts at ten, so be quick! Police are tough, but their wives can be tougher, so don't mess with my favorite show. I love these get-togethers, as police have the most entertaining and sordid stories to tell, unless you have a soft spot for dug addicts and drunk college kids. I do not, so I can't wait!

Jess, like you said..still working on miles of stockinette stitch...and going out of my mind!

Dude, Where's My Cat?

I'm not sure, but I suspect Miss Nina met with some bad fortune last night while protecting the property. At 3AM I was woken by a strange yowl in the back yard, so Scout and I went to investigate. No evidence of a struggle, no fur flying, no strange tracks were found. But this morning I called around the house for my dear little kitty, and she never called back. I'm not going to have a very good day....here kitty kitty kitty...

Crafty Crafty....

What's a girl to do when her husband has to work all weekend? A long time ago I would have spent a day at the spa, met the girls for lunch/dinner/drinks, and finished up with some new shoes. Not the case anymore! This weekend I whipped up a cute felted clutch from leftovers and some handspun from mommakins:

Yes that's Mr Wonderful in the background, wearing his favorite Life Is Good hat- a good luck charm that kept him and the guys safe while on the road in Iraq.

I also collect white beach stones from our beach and coral from our vacations and keep them in containers around the house-I don't know why. I just like the way they look. Beachy without being kitschy.


When a girl has time on her hands (or when Mr Wonderful has poker night with the guys)
she might also sew about ten yards of curtain fabric:


Phew!

If this sweater project could be compared to the Boston Marathon, I would be the runner parked in White Mountain Creamery in Wellesley, tempted by a chocolate-dipped waffle cone and NOT by the finish line. This weekend I made a renewed attempt at the Almost Cowl-you could spot me knitting on the couch in front of Project Runway re-runs (do you know the winner of the first season incorporated a lot of knits in his finished line?) all saturday, knitting at the beach:

(ooh, scandalous...notice I made the picture very very small. Don't look closely or your retinas will burn!)

I knitted for hours at the celebration in Plymouth on tuesday, and almost burst with pride when my friend Kevin told me it was beginning to look like a sweater. Finally! I knitted until the sun went down, watched the fireworks, then went home and knitted some more. I WILL finish this project someday-I don't care if I have to knit in the shower!

Happy Indepence Day!

White Horse Beach erupts into a crazy party every July 3rd. Bonfires light the water for a mile, fireworks perform in an unscripted display for hours. It is a bit awe-inspiring to see, but exhausting as well. If you see a stretch of beach without active fireworks, it means about five hundred teenagers are filling that area, getting tanked and having fistfights. I don't remember that being much fun when I was 16, but then again I was quite the geek.

Here's a crazy night-shot of the beach on Monday....

Luckily, my family and some of our best friends came to visit and save the day (or my sanity) that night. We sat on the deck and enjoyed a quick dinner-so did Scout-together. So much has happened. Kevin and Michelle have two beautiful sons- it seems like just last year Ed, Phil and I were a part of their wedding. I'm not ashamed to say I cried tons that day-Michelle was a beautiful bride, and you could see how Kevin was so moved, which I think is adorable in a big guy. Or maybe it was just joy at wearing a fantastic bridesmaid dress for a change...Thanks Michelle!
Miss Cassandra collected beach stones so we could make a cement stepping-stone for the garden with Scout's paw-print. Here we are as she carefully selects the perfect ones to create a border. Little Miss Alexandra looks on as Cassandra directs me. She's going to be quite the crafty one, but then again, so is her mother, her grandmother, and her auntie Heather.

This morning I was enjoying the resolution of a serious knitting mistake- the purling when I should have knitted on an entire row, straight across the bust line of my Almost Cowl sweater. It took a grueling sweaty hour of frogging, but we are back on a roll. So I was in the kitchen admiring my progress when I noticed Mr. Doolittle, the neighbors’ puppy, outside my bay window.

He had climbed a table on the neighbors’ porch and was delighted by their enormous set of chimes hanging close by. Dooley was barking and wagging in excitement, as he had discovered he could tug at it with his tiny little nose, producing quite a racket. I read that racquets were first created in the 11th century by monks. Those crazy monks used to play some soulful handball games until they devised a ‘racquet’ with strings made from human gut! I was forced to take tennis lessons back in the 80’s when my parents thought it a proper sport to bring to CTY for my summer school with the rest of the country’s nerdy preppy students.

Unfortunately, my racquet was a hand-me-down from the early 70’s and weighed at least 5 or 6 pounds, causing me to swing my skinny little arms like a lumberjack and hit every teensy yellow ball out of the park. I can add that instructor to my long list of exasperated teachers and tutors like my Spanish teacher who politely told me after two years of study that I was never going to grasp the language and tacitly told me I was “a bit slow.” I was NOT slow! I didn’t speak anything but Spanish for the first four years of my life! I did, however, grasp German just fine. Germany is my favorite place on earth, Munchen, Germany to be exact. When I am old and senile I will sing Munchen’s praises and inform everyone that the city is extremely dog-friendly. I bought Phil a guide to dog-friendly places in New England- it’s a skinny book. New England stinks in that respect. But if it didn’t then it would be called England. That place does not stink. Genoa, Italy stinks like urine. It stunk everywhere except our hotel and the aquarium. I would have really enjoyed it, or at least given it a fair chance if it didn’t smell like the ladies room at The Harp.

Now you may understand why my projects take so long….

Knitting on the backburner..

There's a reason for the lack of knitting content this week. In a sudden burst of motivation I picked up my old guest-room project. I love fresh paint, and can't wait to finish this room. I'm thinking of giving it a rustic beach-house feel. Maybe our crazy velvet yellow chair will fit in here...
The sooner it is finished, the sooner we can get to the master-bedroom project (knocking down a wall-yay!) However, I picked out a color called 'Beeswax' yesterday, thinking it would be almost a putty-yellow and its quite a color! We get a lot of sun in our house, so its a little milder during the day, but last night it gave me a headache..or maybe it was the paint fumes. Hmm.

I would promise more knitting news, but I'm still crying over my screwup with the Almost Cowl sweater-got a little excited about separating the sleeves I guess. But more on that later, after some therapy.

I can tell you off the top of my head some of my shortcomings- I am terribly insensitive . I have a sense of humor that no one other than my immediate family may enjoy. I have the worst case of foot-in-mouth syndrome, along with the worst memory whatsoever. I am a horrible party-planner. There may be two months to get a cookout or wine-tasting together, but I will not have a single supply, spoon, or crudite until the day before. My in-laws are completely the opposite. They have every birthday down by heart, and coordinate weeks ahead on the who-brings-what by the fantastic Rand phone chain. They actually discuss at each birthday party what they are designated to bring at the NEXT party. I can't even think that far ahead, mostly because I'm too full (tipsy) to concentrate. After five years of trying to keep up with them, I have finally given up.

So it happens sunday that we are attending a 30th birthday for one of the Rands at the Firefighter's Hall in Brockton, and the first thing anyone can notice if the forementioned's wife, frenetically pacing by the grill, re-arranging sausage links and nervously sipping a beer with a look on her face that would indicate something has seriously gone wrong. And it has.

They need ice.

She swearing "jesus christ," waving a Motorola, and glaring at us as if we have purposefully brought the rain, melted all the ice, and drank her precious supply of shitty beer and white zin. I meekly smile and offer to run down the street for a few bags of ice, but am waved off quickly. This apparently would diffuse the drama. She prefers to scream into the phone to her sister as if the potato salad had suddenly gone bad, "We need four bags of ice! STAT! "

I know the only thing that would drive the Rands from a party would be a shortage of Budweiser (trust me, it happened at my wedding) so this really isn't such a big deal, and we all know she had this party planned down to every last single table confetti more than a week ago. So it cracks me up. I, on the other hand, have been known to shop at Costco for hamburgers and buns 30 minutes before my guests are due to arrive, and could give a s*#t if the food is served on the appropriate platters or squares of plywood. So I hereby appoint myself the worst, ever, hostess in the history of the Rand family. All in favor, say 'aye'.

Sidelined

There's little worse than having a great night out spoiled. Having your plans spoiled twice? Well, then you know it really wasn't meant to be.

I was supposed to go to the salsa club with my best bud Karen last night. I've been away from it for too long, and I had been promising her for weeks. I really really want to go, but one huge tummyache at 5PM spoiled it all. The result of a late lunch (huge grilled chicken wrap) and a going away party for my friend Nikki (slice of ice cream cake), it felt like I had ingested a grapefruit whole. Sadly, I drove home and gently walked it off at the beach, collected a few pretty stones, and turned home before the sun went down.

Now in Plymouth during the summertime thursdays and fridays are never spent indoors-you can enjoy a walk through town, take in the view from one of the open-air bars at the harbor, or walk along the brook path. Last night I thought it would be a hoot to listen to the german band scheduled to play at the bandstand near Plymouth Rock (and get some knitting done).

Unfortunately, this year a striped kitty dropped a litter of stinky young-uns that have been roaming the neighborhood during the late afternoon. Scout had a nasty encounter with one after our beach walk, so instead of a relaxing picnic on the grass with live music, we got this: