Saisquoi?

I love books. The feel of them, their smell, the stories contained within. I just love them. We...well I...have quite a collection. Every bookcase in our house is packed and there is at least one book resting on every flat surface. And I have so looked forward to the opportunity to share them with my children.

C...well...C took a long time to come by. When I found out I was pregnant with her, I had basically given up hoping The Beloved and I would ever have a child of our own. But, lo and behold, I was wrong. And so now I have someone with whom to share stories old and new.

We were fortunate to receive many books from friends at a baby shower prior to C's birth. And I was so excited to begin reading them with her. When we all came home and I held her in my arms and tried to read, all I could do was cry. There she was...she was so perfect...and she was ours and we were hers! And whenever I tried to share my books--our stories--I wept. I wept because she was wonderful and because she was a miracle and because I didn't believe I would ever have the opportunity that stood before me but there she was in my arms looking up at me in all of her perfection...and probably because of all the hormones, too, but that's something else.

After a week or two, I gave up trying to read picture books because I couldn't possibly get through them. So, the first book we read together ended up being Coraline by Neil Gaiman. We then moved on to stories from The Blue Fairy Book...which I had actually started reading aloud to my belly during the latter part of my pregnancy.

Eventually, I could read picture books and board books with her. She loves her stories and will frequently bring people books to share...Sometimes she wants The Very Hungry Caterpiller, and sometimes she favors The Essential Gandhi. She's a strange one.

This morning before school, she brought me a board book I had purposefully hidden: The Velveteen Rabbit.

The pages have a fair amount of text on them, considering it's a board book, so I just talked about the pictures thinking that by avoiding the actual text of the story, I'd be OK. And...so close...but no. When I got to the picture of the rabbit in the bag of discarded toys and the Nursery Fairy, I could feel my throat close and my eyes well up and somehow I made it to the end and only cried a little. We repeated the process this afternoon.

At bedtime, she wanted it again, but this time she wanted the whole story. She wanted me to read it to her, not just point out the pictures. So I did. And I cried a little when the old rocking horse talks about being Real. And I cried some more when the boy pronounces the rabbit Real. And I sobbed when the Fairy talks about how she can make the rabbit Real because he has been loved by a child. All the while, my poor child is looking at me in utter confusion: Why do bunnies make Mama so sad?

The story has always made me teary, but it's somehow different...truer...when I tell it to my own dear girl than it was the last time I read it. I can't help but wonder if it's because C has made me Real by loving and needing me as much as I love and need her.

I've decided that what I really want for my upcoming anniversary (8 years of wedded bliss, can you believe it???) is a knitting vacation. You know, where I don't have to do anything--work, housework, child care, etc. and can sit and knit. I need this. And when I share with you the projects that lie in various states around my house, I'm sure you'll agree.

I'm not going to count the dishcloth. I've always got one on the needles that I should be keeping in my purse or the diaper bag in case of emergencies. Like when C falls asleep in the car and she needs a nap so badly that there is no way in hell I'm going to chance waking her up by bringing her in the house. I could probably move something else into that spot, but the beauty of the dishcloth is that I don't care if anything happens to it while it lives in my purse...I'd be sad if something were to happen to a pair of socks or even the baby legwarmers.

Anyway, I've got going:

A Noro Striped Scarf (1/2 finished)
A pair of baby legwarmers in sock yarn (1/2 finished)
Owlet sweater (needs one sleeve, a cuff on the other sleeve, and button-eyes)
Baby Bloomers (getting ready to start the legs)
A pair of sleep socks (1 leg finished--debating on whether to turn these into legwarmers for C or frog them)
Aviatrix Baby Hat
Dubliner Socks (almost 1/2 finished)

I'm sure there's more unfinished stuff floating around, but this is all that comes to mind right now. Most of it has not made its way to Ravelry because I'd have to document and take pictures and it's all just so stressful.

Not to mention the three Rockin' Sock Club packages sitting on my dining room table. And yarn for two pairs of longies, two skirties, and some more soakers.

And we're not even going to talk about the possibilities for stash yarn, which I'm going to have to deal with sooner rather than later because we're again discussing the possibility of moving C into her own room...after I clean all of my crap out of it, strip the wallpaper, and paint it.

When I informed The Beloved of my need for a knitting vacation, he laughed. Apparently, we will be celebrating our anniversary with some new stainless steel pans. Which, you know, is great, but doesn't help me catch up at all.

Do your unfinished objects cause you stress? Mine do. Mostly because I used to be a one project girl. But now, well, you'll have to excuse me while I cast on for another pair of longies...

I don't get as much time with C as I would like to have. It's the biggest struggle I've had since becoming a mother and returning to work. I hesitate to even refer to it as work/life balance because such a thing is not possible with an impossibly cute and naughty toddler on one side and a 40 hour per week plus 45 minute each way commute on the other.

My solution has been to make the most of our all-too-limited Mommy-Daughter time and build in some special routines. Currently, Saturday mornings are ours. We get up early and go to the Farmer's Market. Sometimes we go to the playground. Then we go out for breakfast. It's not huge, but it's ours. And it's special.

Also special? Watching your kid DEVOUR eggs and homefries. If you're ever at the Friendly Toast, C highly recommends the Guy Scramble. She thinks it would be really great with coffee, but Mama isn't quite ready for that level of special.

Today was not a very good day. It's a Wednesday, which means it's a fasting, blood-draw day for me. Plus, I'm now up to appointments every two weeks, so it was lab work plus a visit with the midwife. Seriously--whoever thought it was a good idea to routinely perform fasting tests on pregnant women a) is probably a man and b) needs to have his head examined.

This morning, I was running late. I had to boil an egg and stop at the supermarket to pick up an English muffin and a bottle of water so that I could eat breakfast after the blood draw. (They draw, I eat, and then they draw again 2 hours later to check my sugars.) I got to the doctor's office at about 8:40 or 8:45, checked in with the receptionist and let her know that I needed to have my glucose levels checked and that I had an appointment with one of the midwives at 9:00. Then I sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. Generally, I don't wait longer than about 5 minutes. But it was pushing 15. I figured the lab was busy, and I didn't see the phlebotomist who usually does my blood draws. At 9:00, the nurse comes out to get me for my appointment and I freak out on her.

"But, the lab hasn't called me yet. I'm gestational diabetic and they need to test my sugars. I can't eat until they test me and they haven't called me yet. I need them to take the draw so I can eat breakfast. I haven't eaten in 12 hours and I'm not allowed to eat until they..." You get the picture. I'm listening to this come out of my mouth and it's like I can't stop it. Nor can I control the volume or timbre of my voice which is getting louder and shriller and beginning to shake as I start to cry.

So they took my blood. Blew out one of my veins in the process (that'll leave a mark), but got the fasting draw. And then let me eat in the examination room. Where I proceeded to find out I'd lost 3 pounds in the past two weeks, had sugar in my urine (this hasn't happened before and didn't really make me happy as it could indicate that diet and exercise are no longer cutting it) and then had to try to explain to the midwife why I was teary that morning. Which, naturally, I couldn't do without crying more.

My morning's performance won me a recommendation for Fish Oil supplements, Vitamin D supplements, and a trip to the counselor to make sure my depression isn't relapsing. Oh, and I feel like a complete asshole due to my inappropriate behavior. I was also advised to perhaps take the day off from work and take a nap instead--which I did. I hate using the sick time at this point because I'd much rather use it during my maternity leave, but I think I really needed the sleep.

In spite of everything, the Tadpole keeps on doing her thing. I might be losing weight, but my belly is growing and is apparently measuring "right on." She's busy and likes to kick and wiggle for me, and be perfectly calm and serene for her Daddy. Let's hope this continues after she comes out. Daddy can deal with her at 2:00 AM.

Right now, I'm at 30 weeks. Her due date is January 17, 2009. However, we know that babies show up when they darn well feel like it. So I propose a little contest:

The Beloved and I are both Virgos. Some say this is destiny--Virgos can only really stand to be around other Virgos. Others feel that this combination is sick, twisted and wrong and has the makings of a cosmic disaster. Though we both exhibit stereotypical Virgo tendencies, we normally don't put a lot of stock into our astrological signs and the possible dynamic formed by two of us living in one house.

Until we decide to entertain.

Yesterday, we had friends over for dinner. Not just friends, but one of my dearest friends--someone who has known me half my life. (It's true--we met when I was 15 and I am now 30. Holy cow.) You'd think that we would wake up in the morning, act like normal human beings, enjoy our time with good friends, etc. Well. That's sort of what happened.

We woke up in the morning. And we picked up. Made sure the bathroom was clean. Swiffered the living room. Did the dishes. Decided what to make for supper. Went to the store to pick up a couple of things. Then, my inner Virgo took over.....

Saisquoi: We don't have a tablecloth. I need a tablecloth.
Beloved: Why do you need a tablecloth?
S: Because the damned cat has scratched the table. And there are watermarks on the table because we didn't wipe it down quickly enough the last time we ate out there. It looks bad. They'll be disgusted with my lack of housekeeping skills. I need a tablecloth.
B: OK. Get a tablecloth.

I get two. Because I'm not quite sure the dimensions of the table. I figure if the small one doesn't fit, I can return it, and if it does, I can use the larger one when we use the leaves.

We get home. I put the tablecloth on the table. The small one. It's got blue and green and yellow checks. I thought it was cute. It was also one of maybe three at Marshall's that didn't make me want to vomit. Anyway, it fits, but it's got great creases from being folded up. So I pull out the iron and iron the tablecloth. And the napkins.

B: That's the tablecloth you picked out? What, do you think we live on a farm? You wanna raise chickens in the backyard?
S: $%&@! (Bursts into tears) I knew you wouldn't like it. Why wouldn't you come to the store with me? This always happens!
B: I'm just teasing. It's fine. It's lovely. Why don't you sit down and do some knitting?

This sort of thing continues until about 5. Our friends are scheduled to show up sometime between 6 and 7. The Beloved begins prep work for dinner. I stay out of the way. My inner Virgo decides that she has done enough for one day and I chill out.

Our friends come. We have dinner. We talk. We drink wine. We go to watch a movie. Our satellite connection decides to act up and we can't order a movie. The Beloved suggests a movie, puts it in, and we watch it. The movie ends and our friends go home. The Beloved's inner Virgo takes the wheel:

Beloved: Oh my God. Why did I pick that movie?! It's so slow. And I don't get it. I've never gotten it! Oh, God. They're never going to come back. They hate me.
Saisquoi: It's fine--they hadn't seen that movie. They don't hate you.
B: But, but....I couldn't make the TV work. And, Jesus, The Lady in the Water? What was I thinking?
S: It's fine. Let's go pick up the dishes.

We pick up the dinner dishes.

B: Did you think the roast was overdone? God, I suck! And the potatoes didn't get crispy because I thought it would be easier to cook them in the oven. Jesus. They hated it. It was awful. I'm sorry.
S: It was fine. And now you know for next time that the potatoes don't work as well if you do it that way. Remember, it took you a long time to get them right on the stove--we ate carbon the first few time you made them. It's OK.
B: But....

This continues for another hour while we pick up the dishes, watch the beginning of MAD TV and get ready for bed. At that point, the inner Virgo decides to call it a night as well.

I've got to say, we love to have company. And when the inner Virgo is behaving herself, we have a wonderful time. Unfortunately, that stereotypical neurotic behavior kicks in and leads to absolute insanity. My mother said this morning, they're your friends. Your friends! They are the last people you need to worry about impressing. Just have a good time! And, you know, she's right.

So, L and D, we do hope you come back and that you don't hate us for our poor housekeeping, inability to order pay-per-view, and non-crispy potatoes. Next time I'll make tacos and we can eat on the floor in front of the TV.

As promised--photos of my weekend knitting:

Dishcloth in Diamond Drop Lace. Unblocked. Knit in Sugar 'n Cream "Yellow" on US 7 needles. Here it is up close:

It's a pretty pattern and would likely make a beautiful scarf or baby blanket--two types of knit object I am currently avoiding like the plague.

The Dream Swatch. Coming along. There are miles to go before I sleep.... But it looks pretty, doesn't it?

Haiku. Progressing nicely. The right front and the armhole are done. I've knit about an inch or an inch-and-a-half of the back. You can see a bit of the Dream Swatch in the corner. What a drama queen!

Magic 28 sock. It's lonely and needing a mate. Hopefully I'll have time to make one before the end of the week. It's cute, isn't it? Here it is a little closer...

Here's a confession--this is my first-ever sock. When I took up knitting again, a couple of years ago, I did it with the goal of making socks somewhere in the back of my head. For some reason, I thought it would be hard and that I didn't know enough to be able to attempt the fine art of sock-knitting. Lo and behold, it wasn't that bad! There are some things I will probably change the next time around, but all in all, I like it. I hope it will serve its purpose well. And now I'm not nearly as intimidated by the Cherry Tree Hill yarn in my stash waiting to become something gorgeous.

And now, for the final round-up:

I think our models deserve a nice round of applause, don't you?

I thought I'd stick with the "comfort food" theme this week. Tonight I decided to make one of my all-time favorite meals: Kielbasa with Red Cabbage. My mother would make this in the winter when I was growing up, and though it is officially spring (including spring-like weather today), we had kielbasa in the freezer.

Here's what you need:

1/4 c. light brown sugar, firmly packed
1 tbsp. grated orange peel
1 clove garlic
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
2 lb. head cabbage, shredded (about 12 c.)
3 medium onions, sliced (I used sweet onion)
3 medium cooking apples, pared, cored and sliced (I used granny smith)
1 lg. red pepper, cut in thin strips
1/2 c. orange juice
1/2 cup wine vinegar
1 (2 lb.) ring kielbasa (It's better if you can find a fresh sausage--trust me. But if you can't find one, a Hillshire Farms or other pre-packaged, pre-cooked kielbasa will work just fine.)

Here's what you do:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, orange peel, garlic, salt, nutmeg, pepper, and cloves.

An aside: Grating orange peel is not fun. It always takes me forever and the peel always ends up stuck in the grater. If any of you have come up with a great way of completing this task, please let me know. Overall, prep took me much longer than usual because I can't find the magic piece of my Cuisinart that allows for the slicing of things. So, I did it all by hand. All of it. Note to self: Ask The Beloved where that piece is and make him swear never to hide it again under penalty of death. I've proved today I can handle a kitchen knife, thank you.

In a Dutch oven, arrange in layers: half of cabbage, half of onions and half of apples. Sprinkle with half of brown sugar mixture. Top with half of pepper strips. Repeat. Pour orange juice and vinegar over top. Bake covered for one hour.

An aside: I can't find my Dutch oven so I used my little roaster. What you want, basically is something large enough to hold all the ingredients, has a cover, and can safely sit in the oven. This doesn't mean I'm not begging The Beloved for Le Creuset's French Oven.

Make 1/4 inch deep slashes at 2 inch intervals in kielbasa. Place in Dutch oven, pressing down to partially cover kielbasa with pan juices. Bake covered for 30 minutes longer.

I love the different colors present in this dish before it goes in the oven--the purple of the cabbage, the white onions, the creamy color of the apples, the red peppers. It's aesthetically pleasing. And it smells great while it's cooking. After it's cooked, everything takes on the purple hue of the cabbage, but it's still pretty. And a confession: I love dishes like this because they are very self-contained. I don't need to think up anything to "go with" my main course. It's all there! The Beloved and I will enjoy this:

and this:


I know--it's hard to see. This is a Columbia Crest Gewurztraminer. It's a nice, light, sweet wine with apple notes. We're drinking wine because The Beloved prefers wine to beer. His reaction to beer is similar to his reaction to my wearing perfume. One could easily serve this with a nice ale or bitter--which is what I generally do.

One final note on this dinner: The longer you're able to let this cook and sit and stew, the better. The Beloved got home from work at about 6:20, and I had a rehearsal at 7:00. This meant I ate enough to keep my stomach from growling along as we sang and planned to eat a little bit more when I got home. What I ate at 6:30 was good. What I ate at 8:30 was divine. I left the covered pan in the oven at 170-ish degrees (the WARM setting) for the duration of my rehearsal. When I got home, the kielbasa was absolutely perfect--it melted in my mouth--and the other flavors had a little more time to meld adding to the delightfulness of this dish. Like many a stew, this only gets better on Day 2, so I'm hoping I can hide enough from Resident Sibling to have for lunch at work tomorrow.

Good night and Bon Appetit!

I knit Continental. But, until recently, I purled English. Fortunately, I could practice Continental purling with my Monthly Dishcloth KAL. I just finished the mid-month offering--Basket Weave in Sugar 'n Cream Soft Violet:

Pretty neat, huh? Here it is again in a little more detail:

Yes, I'm getting worked up over a dishcloth. It's purple!

Actually, all of the dishcloths I knit this month have been purple--or soft violet. The KAL from the beginning of this month was also purple (picture to follow). I'm thinking that I'll save these and give them to my mother. Her dishes have grapes on them (she has this Pfaltzgraff pattern) and she has a matching mural on the wall in her kitchen over her stove. I've still got some more Sugar n' Cream in soft violet, so perhaps I'll seek out a pattern with grapes.

Anyway. The first March KAL:

Bunny! Isn't it cute? I might have to make some more of these before Easter appears. We're hosting Easter Dinner this year. That means The Beloved and I will welcome: My parents; my two siblings; his parents; possibly his sibling and her significant other; possibly my aunt and uncle; possibly my cousin, her husband and their two kids; possibly my other cousin and her son; and the remote possibility of my uncle's son. So that gives us a grand total of 19.* What was I thinking? The one thing I can tell you for certain--we will be eating dinner off of our finest Chinet.

Speaking of Easter--it's the first full day of spring! And this is what it looked like outside of my office at 7:00 this evening:

Ah, spring.

*A correction: While standing in the shower and trying to wake up this morning, I realized I had left my grandmother off of the list of Easter Dinner guests. That brings us up to a possible 20. I just knew 19 was off--it would be too weird. 20 is much better. Anyone got any ideas on how to fit 20 people into a small ranch house?

I've been under a fair amount of stress this week--between Sick Polly, Virgin Mobile Phone Hell, and just general run-of-the-mill BS like wondering if various reimbursements are ever going to arrive and allow me to have more than $20 in my checking account--which always leads to rather unusual knitting behavior. I don't always deal well with stress, which basically means I can't focus on anything and I turn into a raving banshee. Everything suffers--and I find that I begin to make peculiar craft-related decisions.

Although this may not be new behavior, I only really noticed it a couple of years ago when, during a particular rough patch, I was compelled to crochet potholders. Yes, potholders. Out of kitchen cotton. After I made potholders for our household (The Beloved hates them and refuses to use them. I don't think they're that bad.), I made some for my mother. And my aunt. And my sister. I also bought a truckload of Sugar 'n Cream and Peaches 'n Creme cotton yarn in various--mostly hideous--colorways. There are some solids in the mix, but honest to God I don't know what came over me. Ugly. Stupendously ugly. I don't even think I can knit baby hats or booties out of some of this yarn, it's so hideous. So, I put it in a box and tried to forget about it.

Lucky for me, this time my stress has decided to manifest itself in an insane desire to knit dishcloths. I don't know why--I'm not even knitting brainless garter stitch squares or Grandma's Favorite dishcloths. I am actually searching for new dishcloth patterns to try. I went so far as to join a Yahoo! group for knitting dishcloths. Tomorrow, the March Knit-a-Long (KAL) begins, and I'm a little too excited.

Currently on needles is the Ballband Dishcloth, brought to us by the fabulous Mason-Dixon ladies. (The pattern appears in their book as well--I found that out after finding the pattern online....and reading the credits at the bottom.) Naturally, I'm using yarn from my stash on this, which is a good way to get rid of some SNC in wine and midnight magic ombre. So far, I love it. The yarn doesn't even seem that hideous. Mind you, I don't plan on redecorating my kitchen around it, but I'm quite pleased with the way it's turning out. The Beloved says that it looks "intricate" and that it is too fancy to use in the kitchen. He is learning--this is a great improvement from "why do you want to knit dishcloths when we can buy them for under a dollar at the supermarket?"

I am a little self-conscious about what I feel to be slightly weird shifts of focus in my knitting, but perhaps I should just chill out. In fact, it seems to be going around. Yesterday, the Yarn Harlot wrote that she had put aside her current project in favor of garter stitch in plain wool on big needles: "the knitting equivalent of oatmeal." February and early March can be particularly ugly as the snow turns to gray slush and refreezes and we all wait in anticipation of spring. Whether dishcloths, baby blankets, garter stitch rectangles or socks, many of us need something to help get us back to a more comfortable and focused place where we create because we want to--not just because we need to.