Bone Jelly

This is my second time making beef stock/broth from bones, and I love the result.  As one friend remarked: "Beef broth?  Ew, so salty!"  But it isn't, I replied . . .
When I started it the first time, I was amazed at how sweet it smelled.  A more charnel house smell seemed a reasonable expectation, but even before I added the cloves the pot had a wonderful aroma that did little to remind me of meat.  Still not sure what the cloves do, they aren't prominent in the flavor.  There isn't any call for salt until the final stages, and I often salt in the bowl as my primary salt addition.

One thrill was the fantastic fat cap that the broth produced:

That fat is hard, sharply separate, and easy to remove.  I think the suggestion to chill it in a bowl helped a bit.  The lack of a lid, and the 2 days it was in there may have contributed to the pottery-like solidity.  I've never had this kind of result when making chicken broth, that's for sure.
The first batch I was able to form a second insubstantial layer when I chilled it a second time, but the bowl method seems to be more effective and I don't see a second installment forming in the refrigerator.
 
Beans are soaking and I'll add celery, carrots, onion, and potatoes.  This bone hunt only yielded marrow bones  and no shank bones, so I didn't have those nice meaty bits to add back in the soup.
I was very entertained by the beef jello that I made last time, I can't wait to use my second batch in soup again!

What Women Want

So I had a really hot fantasy going all day today. I'm off sick and too tired to even feel like knitting (which means death is at hand) and I kept daydreaming about some hot man inviting me over -- because he has a big pot of luxuriously gelatinous turkey stock ready for vegetables, and would I like to come over and have some? I eventually caved and went to Whole Foods for some chicken soup, where I was not propositioned by anyone with a simmering . . . soup-pot. Drat. At least it was a small break from my pity party at home. I don't think my glands have ever been this swollen. My neck is so sore I feel like I was strangled last night .

Thank Bob I had a new DVD from the library: Monarch of the Glen; which I really enjoyed, even in my foggy state.

I finally finished a quite-challenging pair of socks. These are intarsia in the round, which I hope to not do again for a long while. I think this was my first intarsia project, and i'm quite pleased with my results, but two-at-a-time method leads to four x two ends at a time, which made me a little batty. The sad part is, I'm so much more tickled with the striped heels than those difficult squares, which were a Bitch to do. Surprisingly, even with big breaks, they only took me 2 months.

I really shouldn't

So, I've got this color problem going on, and I blame my mother. Buried in the cedar chest where I could never touch it again was a vest and legwarmers that my mother made. I remember them as made for me, but I don't remember wearing them -- and my sister was firstborn, so they might have been hers. The vest was a hot acidy coral color. A fiery pink (like the kind that the ill-advised put on red haired children) mixed with coral. Being a pale person, this is a color I should probably shy from, but it sucks me toward it always. The brightness! It burns with that light that hot pink impatiens have. If I stare at the flower shining in the heat I see the hotness of the color so far until it starts to recede into cold darkness. It's the jewel-tone with the heart of goth.
Tallying up the items I have collected in the last year that share this hue: my toenails are coral and needed touching up (for a week). Well, the carpet is now one of the group because I knocked the bottle over. It's an old shabby carpet that should have been replaced 8 years ago, so I'm not worried, but it didn't need to match anything. I did get it to "hardly visible from across the room" which also helped with my "too much polish remover" problem.
I have of course bought yarn in this color, but I have fallen off and started buying clothes in this color. It has a pleasantly twisted relationship with grays.
Time for yoga. I got up at 5:45 on a Saturday. Sick, no?

The Swine Flu Is In Your Street, It's at Your Door

Doesn't the heavy-handed reportage on (possibly) Deadly Viruses that (could) kill everyone! sometimes make you wish that there was more to it? I sometimes find myself rooting for the virus. Didn't the constant mention of how many hadn't died sound a little disappointed to you? Like a dare? I'm not wishing any deaths, mind you. But if you hear talk for weeks about how the prize fighter is really good, but probably won't win and he's really evil . . . you might want him to go all the way and be a Contender!
After hearing NPR's story on handwashing this morning I was trying to sing my ABCs at the sink and was shocked to find that I was shockingly rusty at it. I fell apart after Q. Now, I really do know my alphabet. However, the melody is only a crutch to memory if you have used both together in the past decade, which I have not. Scrambling on that shiny slope which is not knowing the alphabet :) I backpedalled. Wondering how far I could make it in French, I ran through the 26 letters in style -- and speedily. I've done the French version more recently, and we used a totally different chanted cadence that was still the bones of the process for my brain. Hallelujah!

Having recently kicked a virus/immune problem to the floor, I have decided to keep flooding myself with echinachea, B vitamins, and C. Why quit now? If the swine flu gets to Pittsburgh, I'll be ready. Bring it!

An Eye for an Eye

The damn universe has been flattening out my hubris again. After weeks of searching for the fourth button for my orange sweater I found it in, yes, the same (and only!) button tin that I had searched through nearly every day. It is a 5" wide tin; it is but shallowly filled. How did I finger through it at least a dozen times and not see it? Rrrrr. I was so angry that the buttons waited a week for attachment. Take that!

On the same day, Reader, both Kauni mittens disappeared. I have searched every pocket, every bag and baglet that i have ever dragged to work, every laundry basket and bin -- no sign of them. I have been extra paranoid about MittenAwayImmediately! when riding the bus, so I hope dolefully that they are in the house somewhere. But it seems certain that the day i find them I will lose something else.

In further proof that some sort of balancing act is out of control, I brought home that gem of out-of-print The Principles of Knitting by June Hiatt. I couldn't believe that the library lets them circulate. So far, the hype is deserved: the style is just chatty enough but still gang-busters informing. I wouldn't pay $200, but if they reprinted? definately $80 or so.

While enjoying this amazing addition to my library queque I leaned on my glasses -- "why is my pillow making a snapping noise? oh." This is my first broken frame since . . . 1997? when I took a left turn a little fast coming out of campus (it was sunny, you would have too) and the glasses slowly and smoothly slid across the dash, and zip! out the window onto a quite busy road. I pulled over immediately and got to watch them get shot around by the car tires. Good times.

I do maintain that despite my cluttered living habits i have a good track record with eyeglasses; and this incident with beloved and long-lived Diane Capt 44D02 happened two days before my eye appointment to fill two new frames. I think they hid under the pillow on Purpose, damn it!

She's lookin good, Verne

I hope a lot of other people get crippled when starting a blog post. I don't know why I think that I'll remember a clever post-title 8 hours later, but I keep believing it. Also, all the funny drains right out of me when I park here at the PC. That's why titles from The Far Side are just right. If I could choose God, he would be Gary Larson. Of course the world would be just as irony-infested as usual, only with more cows.

My knitting loops apace, but the blog falters before the mating ritual that is my stash and the Rav circling and hooting at each other. It's so hard to keep my lips on the air valve, blowing until I have a blowup cow girlfriend.

In good, non-self-flagellating news, I have organized my stash and there are decorative baskets involved -- and lots of (Ziploc we pray thee) moth-proof freezer bags.

Swatch for Norah G's Serpentine Coat has been alarming:

1. how does she expect abstract-shaped color patterns to go smoothly, knitted flat?

2. either the book's yarn is a very different dyelot or the photographer was a slick SOB because my brown mix Odyssey is loads darker and I haven't seen golden tones yet. which led to

3. blue doesn't rise above background -- cause purling back in crazyville is so worth it when invisible!

Swatching with my new Patou singles is charming. I tried the Twist Little Bird pattern:

It looks a little Christmassy. I can't quite walk past the cuteness. One problem is that the cream is the main quantity, so it will end up being background even though I don't fancy a lighter sweater. I don't have enough colors for a more traditional fair isle deal. Ack. So far the cream is a tad thicker than the others, too.

I've had a bitter feud/phobia with provisional cast on for years. Always ended up looking like I'd swirled the needles in a pot of spaghetti, so I had recourse to the crochet method a few times. A few weeks ago I watched the Zimmermann/Swanson Workshop DVD (seeing the technique live for the first time) and it looked a bit more reasonable. Then when reorg'ing the crafts closet I found a doomed old project and turning it about, what did i spy but a rather neat looking prov.cast on! What? I know no one else did it and it looked shockingly good. So this week when casting on the bird hat/swatch I fearlessly whipped up my nemesis and started up! Sooo not visible in bad photo.

At the top, birthday flowers from my bar. Awesome.

If only I still liked to drink :(

Viva November!

Wow, October was no party. I had strep for 3 weeks -- after which I accomplished my first perfectly executed cycle of antibiotics ever, so determined to not be sick AnyMore was I. Then, the very last day as a gleeful kick in the pants (after 3 days of "defrosting" during which I never thought to cock my ear for a running motor noise) I found out Halloween morning that my refrigerator had quit. Of course by then it had not been cooling for several days and I had a mess of dairy products as usual. It took 7 garbage bags and I didn't recycle most of the food jars. It was depressing enough to throw it all out. I didn't have the necessary to clean out everything as well.

A few days ago I got the new frig and it has a normal freezer instead of a shoebox and finally I can have half-gallons of Breyers like everyone else! And without the 2inch layer of ice. I do miss my egg holes terribly though, it was so nice to see the friendly eggs all in a row.

I am still hard at work on Christmas gift for the few, the chosen. I have one man's hat done and the red lace scarf is going well, though a bit slow. I finally got past the part of the doubled yarn that I had to rewind: changed my mind about pattern.

I have six straight days with no work! Lots of knitting!

Dahl=Valley=Derry=Dairy

I realized last night that I have a lot of milk on hand. From left: hemp milk, kefir, goat milk, buttermilk, reg 1%, plus assorted yoghurts off stage. I oughtta have the best bones around! I just used the kefir to make a milkshake. The TJs blueberry soda was not great for me, but it would make a great float, so the kefir went in with it - the tangy yoghurt taste cut the sugar of the soda very nicely and it was blueberries and cream. Pretty good.

I have to crow because I really rocked out an invisible bind-off on 2x2 rib yesterday. I didn't want it to end, it looks primo and I didn't even practice! I went to the LYS and then Border's to score a VK Fall (waited too long) and ended up finding the exact BO I needed in IK, so I snapped it up and started right away. Victory! Can't decide if I should repeat it on the cuffs or not.

Sleeves are underway so I can start getting an ulcer over what shoulder shaping I'm going to do and how I can't rip out the bottom.

Emergency! now with ferrets!

Getting a digital box for my TV has greatly expanded my vintage-programming experience. Having RTN: almost like having cable! It's no BBC America, of course, but seeing the first Kojak episode ever was a new experience. Then there are the siren-porn shows: Adam 12, Emergency! I had no idea that Battlestar Galactica was so old -- or so much cheesier than Star Trek. Who knew Buck Rogers was in space? not a ranch, space! Not me. Magnum PI? Oh, the humanity. Oh, the unholy manchesting. My favorite so far is definitely Emergency! The customer service is horrific:
Man having heart attack (now stuck on elevator between floors) worries oh-so-mildly. EMT response? "Buddy, can you calm down? Jeez, chill out will ya?" They always act like it is so rude, gosh, that the stupid people are not laying there silent as the dead instead of being, you know, concerned about dying while the medics chat about the chief's mood. A Riot.
Might have to catch some Mork & Mindy soon. That used to be one of my favorites as a kid. And Family Ties.

There was a ferret documentary on PBS Friday night and I ended up watching most of it. My opinion of the animals is now more favorable, but owner stereotypes were mostly confirmed. Ferrets seemed to be the JackRussels of the rodent pet world -- leave them alone at your peril! The ferret antics were pretty entertaining and it did make you want to visit with some ferrets, if not section off a custom-built floor of your house for them. The singing ferret owner was my jumping off point. As soon as they started the section on old ferrets dying, I knew there had to be a dead ferret song coming. There was one, but there was also a dead ferret freezer in her house (temporary to eventual cremation, to be fair). That's where you realize that you are not at the pet shop window laughing in delight anymore, no, you are in strange territory. Ferrets in the freezer, then bulk cremation, then she described how they portion out by teaspoonful the percent of ferret ash that each owner gets back. Um.
Yeah, so there were one or two that were vaguely normal, a few that were militant and dedicated, and the remainder were a little alarming. But the raccoon-faced ferrets? Adorable.

The series is noted Here. Very angry I missed the synchro-swimming installment. The film was really good, I'd like to see some of the others. Hope they get replayed.

I am making Buttermilk Cheddar Bread today. Been wondering: all the blogs where photo rights and pattern rights are so righteously defended, why do the intellectual property rights of recipes not concern any one? I often see casual references that the posted recipe is from a website that isn't free to join or a book (also for sale, ahem) that is unique to one author. Now, if the poster has significantly reworked the ingredients or method, I'll stretch that point. But if they have merely rephrased a few things, why is it okay to put that on your own site? Knitting stitches are discrete building blocks, just like ingredients and proportions are, right? My recipe is from Bernard Clayton's Book of Breads and it tastes just as good as my mom's old recipe for cheese bread. Now, if only my oven stayed at a steady temperature instead of rocketing up to 550 every time I set it above 400. That would be helpful.

Aprons Among Us

I have been ripping orange yarn and cheering Latvia today.

The Sunrise Circle Jacket proved to be very large when I started seaming. I had my boyfriend try it on, wanting to know just how huge it was -- and it fit better than I expected, even knowing it slumped all over my shoulders. I was close enough to stitch count, but apparently the row gauge was off, off, and more off. Strangely, I'm not ready to step off a cliff -- I am quite calm. It feels good to have knitted a whole sweater (I know I'm capable of finishing a large stockinette project without bailing or breaking out into cables now) and the practice in first-time seaming was surprisingly fun (great using a slightly darker yarn if you have to rip it out). So, this sadder-but-wiser girl unraveled the whole sweater while winding it around a big cake carrier, hung it off hangers and doorknobs, and weighted it down with mugs, glass jars, and trigger bottles of cleaner. My apartment is liberally festooned. The Rowan Pure Wool Aran stinks when wet. Yuck.

Despite that, I am swatching the hexagon texture pattern from Knitting Nature, to maybe make a cardi. Not Norah's asymmetrical one, but something simple enough. I'm going to use this yarn for something! But I also vindictively bought the Reynolds Odyssey to make a fractal cardigan from the same book. The colors are too pretty and I'm terrified they won't be around if I decide to buy them in the future. Binge after purging the other project?

I saw a production of the Synge play The Playboy of the Western World this week. I read the play for no good reason a few years ago and preferred it; it was wonderful to see it performed at last, and so ably. The PICT cast did a great job, I loved the leads, but the best moment was the apron. The female barkeep takes off her apron at the end of the night: does she put it on a hook to hang? No! There are two nails at the high corners of the window, she raises the apron, twirls the ties around the nails, and Presto! Curtain! It felt so right, I think it has to be historically accurate. And of course, I don't have curtains but I do have aprons. The solution has come to me from the 19th century through historical drama. Who needs the Home channel?

Requiem:

Ahh, wet sheep smell

Works in progress - and/or purgatory.

Right is my spinning -- I am almost done with my first bag of roving! Will it look terrible when i get the nerve to ply it? Of course! But I'm going to knit something with it anyway. I do dread the moths. Hand spun looks so much more insect-edible than store bought. Maybe it will decoy the moths away from more expensive skeins.

Center: my Sunrise Circle Jacket is now in Limbo. All of the pieces are done, but all of them need to be adjusted. I have a complicated and random system of row-fixing crochet chains either holding last rows or marking rows to cut back to. Since the pattern seems enormous on most people, I stopped before the end of the fronts, gave it a douse, and am drying it before making alterations. On each piece. At both ends.

I hope the wool doesn't smell this bad after each washing. I can smell the eucalyptus on the other items from the load, but the orange has a different flavor.

I did a seam or two to see how things are lining up, and it wasn't onerous. They didn't shrink any faster than the sweater body, so that's a success.

Yes, it is a perilous cliff . . . will dahlofwool's first sweater ever be wearable?

Left is some doomed thing I keep trying to turn into a market bag. The hemp, it wants to work with me, but so far we are struggling.

Pack Up the Tomato Box

God bless MDK. Really. I was starting to read various knitting blogs, and they were on ALL the blog rolls -- so they couldn't be any good, right, if everyone liked them? Well, they are good. And fun. I am slowly working my way through all the archives. The bookmobile post was enough to yank out all of their lurkers.

The bookmobile was such a stressful event. God help you if you left a due book at home, outside the big sturdy box we used for our three-reader supply. It was only a 7minute drive to the next stop, but my mom viewed it as a huge imposition. Once inside the bus I had to be yanked out. I always checked out my books to the sound of the engine revving up.

I was fascinated by the black woman who worked on the bus. My school was all white and I think the librarian was the first woman of color that I saw working at any job -- and a job that was so idolized! I was six and I thought she was so cool and distinguished behind the little gate.

That bookmobile may have had more books than my elementary school library, which was shoe-box-sized. I quickly rebelled against the grades 1-3 books and was allowed to take out the bigger books. We were only allowed to take out books every other week, but they let me do it every week -- a big stack from my hands to my chin (this was before tinies had backpacks).

disclaimers: this is my book, but that is the porch bench afghan, which is not of my issue or choosing! The dark circles under my eyes are totally there and not a camera shot issue. It was a bad day and i just read a 200p book in an hour and a half. You would be too!

Red in Tooth and Claw

Other blogs have their book tours and their babies, now I bring you my own circle of life.

This morning I left the house for work to find Porch Kitty trotting forward with a whole dead chipmunk in his mouth. He was only out for 2 hours that morning and I've never seen a chippie in my neighborhood: the squirrels dominate. Also, both front paws were declawed by previous owner. So, the rodent had a better chance than usual. I was pleased as any mother at a dance recital. I petted my cat while he had a corpse in his mouth and told him how proud and impressed I was. Mighty Hunter!

Though there was nary a slice of compunction pie at the grisly scene, I did draw the line at running upstairs to get the camera. Who will admit to being the target audience for dead chipmunk photos? Even totally precious action shots of proud killer kitty with prey al dente?

The dead still adorned the porch at my return, so chipmunk salvage was quickly carried out.

This is the preying mantis that was standing near the body. Puzzling since I hadn't thought that they were carnivorous, but soon realized that the mantis was staking out the corpse flies and having quite the nice supper. Chillin like the old guy at the college club. The mantis got quite perturbed when I leaned in, and started to book it towards the plants, but was determined to enjoy his fly To Go.

At least someone feasted.

Joan, I'm on your tailgate

A while back I found the Kauni cardigan along with untold hordes of other knitters. It looked addictive to knit, but surnuf some of the color sequencing got a little dicey for some folks. Some examples looked like the yarn got away from them. THEN I saw the glorious Damask Kauni here and I was sold on the yarn's possibilities.

One small problem: no way in Hades could I ever follow that pattern for more than a handkerchief. So I looked in vain for another pattern. Classic Fair Isle didn't seem a perfect fit. I wanted something with the vertical sweep of Damask, but much easier to follow and a bit more geometric. Starmore was consulted; I looked at old needlepoint journals; I marvelled that I didn't have nearly as many knitting books or magazines as I thought I did, since clearly they were insufficient to present need. Then one day i saw a photo on a blog: Joan, right after the Bohus sweaters, in exactly the type of pattern I wanted, in the same yarn. Well, easy as pie! I would go to her website or find her on ravelry, right? No. I hunted. A lot. All I found was another small photo. ARRghghhGHH.

Joan!

So, I got out the good graph paper, and I did bunch of heavy squinting, and I have a chart to work from.

Just to be sure, I did try a pattern from Poetry in Stitches, but the floats were too long for comfort, and it didn't use the colors at the same rate, an important factor. And yes, that's a mistake on my swatch: I was watching the Indiana Jones movies, prepping for the new release, and apparently it got too tense for me.

A Busride Too Short to Knit

Guys (by which i mean Me),


I'm trying to get digital. One Hamilton's worth of cheapo camera at a time. The first one needed all the light of an atomic explosion to show anything but deep darkness, but it was $10. To be expected. Catomine found a slightly less no-name, but extremely similar item for same price that yielded visible objects. now to upload . . . ohgod, ohgod.

Aha! soon, i may be powerful enough to remove blemishes -- or at least strong enough not to have caffeine or chocolate, which causes them.

Please note my Winter Scarf 2007, which everyone is tired of seeing on me. Daily bus riders (78C) surely have scarf fatigue. it was knitted several years ago from a forgotten thick and thin unspun yarn, and i didn't wear it for a loong time because i was so tickled that i had used the complete amount of yarn with only a 3inch tail on either end. with no frogging at all. of course the decrease gets a little funky as i raced against the shrinking yarn length, but i made it work out so nicely with no waste (EZ would be proud) that i couldn't bear to weave in the two tiny ends that i was so proud of. so the scarf lived in a box until i resurrected it and wore it one winter day, darning in the ends as i rode on the bus. how's that for procrastinating? and seed stitch, who can get enough? It even matches my storebought cashmere hat.

What I really want to know is: Who made the sci-fi reader's scarf? I would try to sneak a photo, but it will be too warm next week for him to wear it. It is the size of a table runner for the 40-foot state-dinner table in a movie. I believe each stripe is an entire ball of yarn. It appears to be over twice the length of his body and over a foot wide. If it happens to be his first and only attempt at knitting, i applaud his gusto for knitting and his aplomb in wearing it. If it was a gift, however, i suppose i must respect his loyalty to the donor. But really, it's like a knitting machine went crazy while he slept, and then he tripped into it on the way out the door. I want to like it, but it puts him in danger of tripping.

Dark Lace

Almanac of projects: March
I have received shipment of hemp, nettle and camel yarns from nearseanaturals.com and have used my boyfriend as an umbrella swift. the hemp and nettle is going to be a farmer's market bag in Azalea lace. Cannot tell whether plan of doing 5 reps instead of 6 will cause dome shape instead of flat circular. and my selected xerox does not reveal exactly what a M.3 is, so i'm doing my own blind equivalency.
my stash closet is looking very well organized. the crochet cotton has been firmly segregated, and the wools protected.

i need homes for beading supplies (seed beads mostly) and aluminum knitting needles.

Remember, if you get a pattern or two you like from a library book, don't forget the abbrev. page!