I'm doing my best to minimize losses.

When I decided to knit a sweater for Bubba, it seems like my brain/self clicked into self-protect mode based on previous instances of horse shit knitting that resulted in catastrophic failure and the wasting of many dollars on yarn I couldn't make into a sweater.

Sad. 

One half of my brain says, "Yay! Knit a sweater!" and the other half goes, "Shit. Commence loss-minimizing sequence."

And while that may sound absurd, it's the only way I can explain the fact that, while the sweater is coming along dare I say swimmingly, every time I turn around I find that I'm missing an important piece of the puzzle which then keeps me from progressing on the sweater.

The recurring nature of this scenario is getting really fucking annoying.

Like, I ordered the book and the yarn only to realize that I didn't have the needles to start the torso. 

So I ordered the needles.

Then the book got back-ordered. 

Then the yarn showed up and it was a barfy color so I returned it for Normal Navy.

Then the book showed up but I had no yarn.

Then the yarn showed up with the needles and I could get started BUT Bubba's "perfect fit sweater" from which I needed to gather measurements was wintering at the cleaners.

Then the sweater came home from the cleaners and I cracked the book only to realize that I had to do math and my brain began to melt.

Then I actually had all the stars aligned to start the sweater and (bringing us to present day) I finish the torso part which has taken a while only to find that I don't have the right size needles to do the sleeves because I need shorter circulars for that little slice of heaven, so I've had to stop production on this project and await the arrival of #7 16" circulars. 

WTF.

The most aggravating part of all of this, which is at the same time very AWESOME, is that the sweater is precisely the same width as Bubba's "perfect fit sweater" so I don't have to frog anything or try to quietly kill myself with my Addi #7 24" circs. 

A fact that you think would be enough to keep me from suicidal thoughts, but it's not because I'm a little bit insane and impatient - a combination I don't recommend. 

But let's pretend I'm past all that drama for a second and just rejoice in the miracle that is creating something from a pattern that then MAGICALLY looks just like the pattern says it will. 

REJOICE NOW.

Also, please note that this magic was also a result of some math that I did with my own pea brain, which is a miracle in and of itself, and should be recognized in its own special way because we know what a tard I am with math. 

I realize it shouldn't be exciting to be able to multiply 22x5, but that's about all I had to do math-wise to get the stitch count to start this fucker, and frankly just getting to the "22" part was hard enough. 

So much measuring and quadruple-guessing went on, I nearly drove Bubba away altogether, which would have made knitting him a sweater something of a moot subject.

ANYWAY. 

I've come to terms with the fact that my brain is quietly inserting roadblocks between me and the different stages of this project so that, at any time, I will have an escape route in the event that the sweater takes an unsuccessful turn. Perhaps I should be grateful for these opportunities, but I'm really just annoyed that FOR ONCE things are turning out as planned and my progress is being stalled by my brain's surreptitious self-defense mechanisms.

But, with any luck, my new Addis will be in the mail soon and I'll get to work on those sleeves and be able to present you all (and Bubba, of course) with a finished sweater product that doesn't look like a big pile of Normal Navy doo.

Let's all just hold our breath for that one.

What the F I do with leeks. [RECIPE]

Our farmshare started up again last week after a two week hiatus that fell between the end of the winter share and the beginning of the regular (spring/summer) share. 

That two weeks gave me some time to anticipate happily the upcoming barrage of vegetables and also start dreading the inevitable Mystery vegs and how I would possibly manage to get them all into our bodies in a satisfactory and, perhaps, even enjoyable way.

If at all possible, I prefer to not compost anything from the weekly box, but sometimes we get too much of some things (BASTARD CHARD) or some amounts of things we just don't like (collards) or a bunch of things that only one of us likes (beets) or we get Mystery vegetables that have never been prepared by my hands so I just am at a loss as to how to make them good (Brussels sprouts, fava beans, fennel bulbs, celeriac, turnips, leeks) and they end up getting hauled out to the compost pile at week's end or when they've turned goopy and nasty in my crisper.

Typically I feel incredibly guilty and malign myself enthusiastically while walking to and from the composter and sometimes I make a promise to Nature that I will do better to get these precious green (red, white, yellow, etc) things into our bodies instead of into the composter.

I've been better with some things more than others.

Like, you know how we now have a love affair with Brussels sprouts, fava beans, fennel (Wait? have I told you about the fennel? Soon. Trust me.) and celeriac/celery root. 

These are things that I look forward to in the farm share rather than dread as though they are Death Itself and even like cooking because they taste amazing and make me feel like a super hero cook since some of them were previously hated by Bubba (brussels sprouts) or feared by me (fava beans  - it's the Chianti thing. You know.)

Like I'm winning the battle against the box, you know? Just trust me. It's a good feeling.

But, even after all my battles last year, there are still some Mystery vegs that confound me and have yet to be conquered to the point where I no longer fear seeing them in the box.

Until last night, leeks were one of those Mystery vegs. 

Is it an onion or an iris? WHO CAN TELL? Not me.

Thankfully Kris and I were emailing on some random topic and she made mention of her recent (or upcoming? I can't remember.) leek planting and I took the opportunity to ask her what the F she did with leeks. 

Well, Kris is more of a "teach them how to fish" kinda gal, so sent me off to read up on leeks. All this made me want to do was find a way to eat them so that I didn't continue to feel like the ignorant American loser who is too dumb to understand what the French see in this green onion-like staple of amazing greatness or whatever.

Those French can really make me feel like shit, you know?

And with some stereotypical American bullheadedness welling up inside my person, I marched off to figure out what the F to do with these things so that I could feel better about myself, this country and The Mystery Leek of Greatness.

It might have gotten a touch dramatic in my head, I'll admit.

Well, thankfully my neighbors, who have been well-documented here as excellent chefs, casually passed along their easy going way of making leeks, and when I tried it last night, I was hooked.

The world of leeks has opened up to me, people, and so now I shall open it up to you. If only slightly, seeing as I have only made them well once and lord knows there's other shit you can do with them, but still - OPENING UP THE WORLD OF LEEKS! 

Here we go...

I wish you could smell this. FROM HEAVEN.

Mushroom Leek Saute with Wild Rice

Recipe by Awesome Neighbors

My changes in bold

Ingredients

1 Amazing leek, rinsed thoroughly, chopped 

2 cups of roughly chopped oyster mushrooms (or whatever kind)

1 clove garlic (minced)

1/2 cup wild rice

2 T unsalted butter

1 T fresh ground black pepper

Please ignore the compost bag back there and don't include it with your recipe.

To make

Start the rice cooking per package instructions. Of all food things to which I pay closest attention to package instructions, rice is #1. Fucked up rice is no laughing matter, so don't get all "I know how to make rice, loser!" because you might fuck this up and that would be shameful.

Moving on. 

In a good sized skillet (I think I used the 9"er), melt a T of butter over medium heat and toss in your garlic and chopped leek to cover. It will look and smell delicious like a mellow onion and this is AOK with me. Throw some salt on there for good measure and toss occasionally until it starts to soften.

Add your other T of butter and toss in your mushrooms. Mix this all up in the pan and let the smell take you away. Not like Calgon, but more like when you walk into a restaurant and you're super hungry and suddenly you smell something that you MUST HAVE because that's kinda how this smells. To me.

I should have taken photos of the oyster mushrooms. Hotness.

Add some more salt and the pepper, stir and then turn the heat to low. 

It looks like it was all made to be together, no?

When your rice is ready (DO NOT BE HASTY OTHERWISE YOU'LL BE EATING CRUNCHY RICE EW), pour it right into the skillet with the leeks and onions, stir it up real well, sprinkle with a little more salt (to taste, of course) and serve with some totally unmatching bbq brisket because that's what you have and, well, it's good no matter what you eat it with.

Everything goes with bbq brisket. Even leeks. AMAZING fucking leeks.

Next on the Mystery what the F do I do with this list: TONS of beets. Not, like, 6 beets, but more like 20 beets. And don't just say "cook them" because that's not going to get rid of a lot of beets when I live in a house where only one of us eats them (me). I need creativity from you, folks. Help a sister out.

$.99 landscaping

I spend a lot of time talking about the veg garden and showing you photos and numbing your minds with the minutia of gardening for food, but what about the rest of my place and does it look like crap because I only care about the plants that make snacks?

In a word, not really. Ok, that's two words, but you know.

While I haven't yet begun to create the Landscape of My Dreams on our property, I do try to work toward it during the few gardening moments which I don't dedicate specifically to making food happen in the yard.

My approach, however, is a little less, how you say, frenetic and high maintenance, when it comes to plants that don't make food. I intend to spend the majority of my gardening time making sure that the vegs happen, so everything else has to be low maintenance enough to survive with very little regular attention from moi.

Poor these plants. I play favorites and they are not them. 

But I do want them around, and I want them to serve the purpose of not looking ugly, so I spend the requisite amount of time choosing ones that don't really need me around in order to get on with their lives. 

Self-sufficient and independent - these are the plants for me. Cheap doesn't hurt either.

And this is where the $.99 Landscaping Plan comes in.

First, I identified an area for which I had nothing but contempt. You're familiar with it, in fact, as I've referenced it before. We call it the Dog Pee Hole. 

Then, I hatched an evil and cheap plan to convert its ugly dirt-and-nothing else-ness into something tolerable and perhaps even vaguely attractive by outlining a few criteria for these future plants. To work, I decided they must:

1. Be drought tolerant
2. Be heat tolerant
3. Be cheaply acquired
4. Not require an excessive amount of pruning or fussing about
5. Be either native or non-invasive
6. Thrive under adverse conditions such as dog pee, occasional trampling, run-ins with misc. yard equipment, the occasional uprooting due to irrigation repairs and random prodding from curious neighborhood kids named Max.

Also nice, but not absolutely required:

1. Self seeding
2. Direct sowing
3. Flowering
4. Perennial 

Then I went to OSH for something totally unrelated and bought myself a packet of California Native Wildflower seeds for $.99 because there they were right next to the counter as I was checking out. 

Neato. I like impulse shopping and California poppies. I will buy these right here, right now with change from the bottom of my purse. 

For the sake of being thorough, I will tell you that I came home, opened this packet haphazardly over the dead dirt of the dog pee hole and dumped the seeds out onto the soil. I then rummaged in the garage for a few minutes and unearthed a quarter packet of borage seeds from last year and then dumped those into the hole, too. 

And then, because I'd heard it was going to rain in a few days, I just kicked some dirt over the whole thing with my shoe and walked off, forgetting the whole thing had even happened and leaving the watering part up to Nature while I went inside and made myself a cocktail.

I'm sure it was around the 4 o'clock hour by then, so it was OK to be doing this.

Cheers to you, Dog Pee Hole! Peace out.

Then, about six months later (just the other day, in fact) I took this picture. 

Why, Dog Pee Hole, aren't you looking lovely! And nary a puddle in sight. 

So, OK, it's not the most groomed and manicured landscaping job, ever, but it's flowering and green and not just brown pee-soaked dirt. Plus, it required/requires zero watering, attention or work on my part. 

Oh, also, it's self-sowing, heat/cold/drought/shade/sun tolerant, pest resistant, a pollinator attractor and fun for Max to go rooting through asking, "What dis, Jada?" to a dog who is busy eating worms out of the driveway.

I did not realize the satisfaction, entertainment and aesthetic pleasure that could be derived from $.99. 

Perhaps I've been too dismissive of the passive act of planting wildflower seeds while I carefully maintained my rigid mindset that landscaping had to include such torturous and expensive acts as tedious design, meticulous pruning, painstaking care and endless manicuring. 

What if I extended this vague and loosely defined landscaping technique to the backyard? I mean, it might get a little wild, but it would only cost me about $5 to cover my yard in California poppies.

And it would leave me a lot of time to play favorites.

We'll see.

My brain needs a hobby.

You may not remember this, but back in the day, I said something to a swap buddy about wanting to learn embroidery. 

It was pretty far back in the day, so don't feel bad if you have no recollection of this since I barely do myself.

I'm a little forgetful sometimes. There. It's out there. Shit out of horse.

Anyway, this nice swap buddy of mine indulged my whimsical wishes and sent me a Stitch-it Kit with her swap project and I was very excited. The whole time (years) it sat on my craft shelf, just looking at me with its "Remember - YOU wanted to embroider - so here I am whenever you're ready. Bitch." look on its face.

That Kit is really a lot mouthier than I would have expected from a pink box. 

Anyway, after all that time, I finally busted open the box and did something with all that thread. 

Well, to be truthful, I used very little thread, but I used some of the thread which is an occasion in itself given my lackluster attention to this craft BUT STILL.

See I had a project I finished last fall that I'd crafted with the full intention of giving it to my goddaughter when a gift-giving holiday presented itself. And then I made her something else for Christmas, so this bag got put back on the shelf, again for "future gift-giving". 

Now her birthday is this Saturday, and as I went to retrieve it from the shelf, yet again, I decided it needed some more specialing up because it's sat around for so long that my guilt had sort of taken over. Like it wasn't as special as it should be if I've let it sit on a shelf for six months. 

This is how my brain works, folks. Somehow the special-ness of gifts somehow degrades if that gift sits on my shelf for too long. Who knew that my brain had shelf lives associated with gifts? What IS it doing in there?

My brain needs a hobby.

ANYWAY.

I have been watching Wendy specialing up these cute Library Totes, like, forever, and I keep telling myself that these would be great ways to special up this gift for Emma, as though I could get enough of my shit together to do it all.

As though. I'm delusional.

While I imagined I'd make the bookmark, the hand-carved bookplate stamp AND the embroidered library card pocket, I only managed to get to the pocket. Because, apparently, embroidering two inches of muslin really takes it out of me.

I might have started sweating while making that flower. 

What? You didn't know that was a flower?

But in case that reason's not good enough, I thought of a few more ways to justify my laziness:

• Three-year-olds don't know what to do with stamps.
• You can't stamp a library book anyway. That is how one gets one's library privileges revoked and I won't be responsible for starting this child on a life of crime.
• I doubt you need to bookmark pages of a picture book.
• She's three - she's going to put her dollies in here and take them for a swim in the pool - stamps, bookmarks and even embroidered pockets aren't going to make a damn bit of difference. In fact, I bet they'd just ruin those dollies' afternoon swim.

On the bright side, she may be able to get a bunch of dollies in there.

So, I gave up, embroidered the pocket, sewed it on AS THOUGH MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT because holy crap what if I fuck it up and have to re-embroider another piece of fabric - shit! And then wrapped it with a princess card and a savings bond because that is all I know how to do as a godmother who knows nothing of children.

Eventually, I'm going to have to get better about giving gifts to this child so that Bubba and I don't become those people that always give crappy gifts like we all have in our lives.

You know what I'm talking about. That aunt that always sends you ridiculous Christmas sweaters with blinking reindeer noses or the uncle that shops for everyone's gifts from the Harley Davidson store. You laugh, but this is a real thing that happened. To Emma's mom, my best friend, so I know this issue is ripe in her mind as her beloved daughter opens gifts from her devoted public. 

If she's not on the lookout for Emma's future "shitty gift-giving relatives", I would be disappointed in her mother's intuition. Not that I have any (intuition or kids) or could judge anyone's habits with their children, but you know.

So, I'll be looking to y'all next year for gift suggestions that would please a four year old chatterbox. She likes pink, the swing set, her little brother and hiking with her papa. Feel free to start brainstorming now. 

I'll need to make up my lack of child-relation skills with really, really good birthday presents. 

Don't blink or you'll miss it. + Random experiments

Alright, so we're done then. With the garden planting.

After half a year of mulling and hatching and wringing of hands over seed catalogs, the garden is planted - and with much less fanfare and drama than one would expect from my Second Most Anticipated Event of the Year.

The first being the ripening of the #1 tomato, you know.

So funny, that.

I can wear out my brain thinking about corn varieties and soil amendments and should I try to start my own tomato plants even though I know they're only going to die when I forget them outside for nearly six months and then, when the moment arrives, it's over in 10 minutes and the only thing to do is sit back and admire and then go take a nap on the lawn with the dog.

I see some saucy parallels in this scenario that I won't detail for you, but I think you know what I'm saying.

What I will detail for you, however, is the contents of the garden. An activity that I'm certain will take longer to type out than it did for me to actually complete.

One day, this picture should be more green than brown.

Bed 1 (left to right): Silver Queen Corn
Planted in blocks rather than rows according to direction from my corn-growing pal, Kris. Thank you, doll - I'll endeavor to not fuck up my first crop of corn, although I have heard horrible stories from people about the terrible fates that befall corn crops. And here I thought the big worry was keeping weird kids out of the vegetables. Hmph.

Bed 2: Lemon cucumbers (2), Kentucky Blue Lake beans (on the tepee) and 2 rows of Black Seeded Simpson lettuce (under the tepee for shade)

Bed 3: Better Boy tomatoes (2) and Sweet Basil (6)

Bed 4: For 1 more week, fava beans, but after this coming weekend, same as Bed 3: Better Boy tomatoes (2) and Sweet Basil (6)

Before I get ahead of myself, I should tell you that I planted tomato and basil seedlings rather than seeds because,

1. I am not good at hardening off tomato plants. As you know.
2. My basil seedlings aren't ready yet.

So don't get mouthy with me about it. These are my shortcomings and I hold them close to my heart.

We're still awesome even if we haven't lived in the breakfast nook for two months already.

New this year is The Random Tomato Experiment where I turn under a whole crop of fava beans (sorry, no Hulk Hummus until the farmshare comes through) into one tomato bed and then pit it against its neighbor plants in the non-fava bed to see how boosty that nitrogen fix really is.

I've heard that if you turn under fava bean plants BEFORE they make beans, all the nitrogen they sucked into their roots will go into the soil and make it Super Boosty (scientific term, obv.) rather than waiting until after you've harvested the beans to turn the greens back into the soil.

We shall see.

Perhaps it will just make big bushy leafy plants that produce the same amount of tomatoes (an obvious theory), but since I just came upon this advice while trying to decide whether to pull the favas so I could plant tomatoes or just leave them there to make beans for me, I'm opting to call this an experiment so that I can get the tomatoes underway in a manner that makes me seem strategic rather than wasteful of beans and impulsive.

FANCY.

But really, when you even try to compare fava beans to tomatoes, those beans hardly stand a chance, so tomatoes it is. Plus, random experiment! Fun!

If you'd like to say your farewells, I won't judge you.

Bye bye.

And while I was getting all experimenty with the plants, I decided to take it to the next dorky level and do something the Kitchen Gardeners International did last year, which was to track the cost and results of their home garden to see what kind of value they were getting from their crops.

What? Track things via spreadsheet AND grow vegetables at home? Together, at once in one fabulously A/R activity?

Yes. I will do this.

So, my goal at the end of the season is to be able to see what I've grown, how much it cost to grow it and how much I saved by growing my own rather than buying it elsewhere. Plus, I'll see where it all goes (canning, giveaways, composter, etc) and whether we really ate everything we thought we would so that when I sit down to do my six months of mind-grinding mulling over the seed catalogs, I'll have a little more information with which to make my decisions.

Also, I'll be able to tell Bubba in no uncertain terms that while cantaloupe sounds like a fabulous idea in springtime when he hasn't seen a melon (the fruit kind, you naughties!) in six months, growing them in the garden is a waste of space since someone never eats as many as he says he will.

Whatever. It's fine. I liked my melons. Hah.

So, let us begin the year when spreadsheets and gardening became one.

It's 70 degrees, so obviously I'm knitting.

Yeah, in true Finny form, the weather is warming up and I'm choosing this time to begin a sweater for Bubba.

And you know I'm using wool since Bubba can actually wear wool and also because it's the most punishing fiber to handle when you're me and the temps get higher than 32 degrees.

I just hate wool and I realize that makes me an outcast in this world of knitters.

SORRY! I'm allergic! Or my skin is a big pansy, whatever. I don't know the technical reason why my skin freaks the hell out when it comes into contact with wool of any blend or saturation. I call it an allergy because that makes it seem more legit, but really it could just be that my skin is ultra-sensitive or an anti-woolite, I don't know.

Again, I can thank Philigry for this particular inspiration to knit man sweaters, since it was her Cobblestone that sent me to that place where all I could think about was knitting a sweater for Bubba that he could wear next winter for our ski trip.

And while I did present the Cobblestone as an option, Bubba chose the Seamless Hybrid from Knitting Without Tears because I think he wanted to test the legitimacy of the "without tears" claim or at least see if it could produce "Knitting Without Swears", which I think we all know is impossible.

For me.

FYI: This is not Bubba. This is Bubba.

Anyway, it was this rendition on Ravelry that had me thinking it might be a possibility for Bubba, since this guy has a similar build and maybe I was swayed by the color, I can't remember exactly. But Bubba liked it and so I ordered the book, a few sizes of Addi Turbos that I didn't already own and a truckload of Cascade Superwash in Como Blue so that I could exchange it upon receipt for a more normal color like Navy.

The Como Blue, I do not recommend it. It's a little too teal. And now that I look at this photo, it also strikes me as a little too teal. What is my problem? Anyway, we're knitting with Navy now and that's just fine by all of us.

And so far, very few swears! Granted, I'm only about 1/4 of the way up the torso of a patternless sweater knitted in the round, so there *shouldn't* be too much swearing going on, but I will say that given the work I've had to do to get to this point of mindless and enjoyable patternless knitting in the round, it *should* be nice and swear free.

I will have you know that, for once in my life, I actually knitted a gauge swatch.

(Hold for applause)

Then, THEN, I went on to measure, GASP IN HORROR AT THE WRONGNESS OF MY STITCH GAUGE, realize that I needed a smaller needle, realize that I didn't have that smaller needle in my possession, order the two next smaller sizes of needles from Jimmy's, WAIT a few days, receive the new needles, reknit the swatch and then GASP IN GLEE AT THE RIGHTNESS OF MY GAUGE on these smaller needles.

Oh yay and it's about fucking time, already.

So, I feel like I've earned my mindless and enjoyable patternless knitting in the round. Also because I had to do math before I could even cast on the first stitches because that is how this book works.

You may not know this about me (you know this) but I was told that there would be no math. Ever. But, alas, there it was. And it was asking me to do multiplying and measuring and there were words like "precise" and "exact" and "you'll fuck it up if you don't pay attention" and it was a little intimidating. Also, there wasn't actually any swearing, but that's how my mind translated "if you're off by even 1/3 of a stitch, your sweater will not fit properly".

I'm sure I'm not the only one who would take direction this way.

SO - I was vurrrrrrrrry careful to follow the directions exactly. Because we don't want another incident where I knit all gleeful and mindless for rounds and rounds and rounds only to realize that WTF?! this thing is so huge.

I can't have that in my life again. It was too sad.

I'm really hoping beyond hope that this sweater, when completed, will fit like a muthereffing dream and I won't have to put it in the To Be Frogged With Shame bin like the other one. For the record, I'm thinking that, once frogged, that beautiful silk yarn will become a long-sleeved version of this sweater that I already know fits like a normal sweater should. I think I can be trusted to knit a few sleeves and add a few inches to the bottom without fucking things up too badly.

It'll certainly be an improvement over the hot mess I've got on my hands now. Just taking up all kinds of space in the stash and everything. Ugh, it annoys me.

ANYWAY - this is about Bubba's sweater and how it's coming along nicely and I've followed the math instructions (triple checking, of course, since my math sucks bags) so it should do what the pattern says it will do, which is "fit perfectly" and "without tears".

Since I don't do a lot of crying, I feel like this is a pretty safe bet.

Perhaps I'll have to come up with a "Knitting Without Swears" book for those of us who scream profanities during times of stress rather than curl up in the fetal and cry into beers. We'll see.

Be sure to come back in a hundred years to check my progress on this sweater. Since you know it takes me forever to finish these things.

Adopt a Crop update: No promises

Look close. It's there.

As you all know, I'd like to have my garden planted already so that I'd be all lined up and growing as I was last year at this time. Unfortunately, the weather's been too cool for that and I've been forced to wear tights on my morning runs (BARF) and also forgo the garden planting a while longer.

Although I *may* give in this weekend and get to planting because I have no patience.

After that I may also have no plants, because it will certainly freeze and kill everything, but I think we know how impulsive, impatient and unreasonable I can be, so it's likely that I'll go out and plant some seeds this weekend just so I can have the pleasure of standing next to the garden, wiggling my fingers over the soil like a sorceress and screaming "GROW, MY BEAUTIES" like a woman off her nut.

Perhaps my neighbors are missing this variety of comic relief in their lives, so it's possible that my backyard antics are in demand from others than just my nutty self.

Anything's possible.

Given the delayed direct sow gardening however, I did start some seeds indoors. And, miracle of miracles, some of them are starting to sprout, even given the 40 below status of our breakfast nook/tiny seedling nursery/off-kitchen storage/dog dining area/apron house/spare kitchen seating area/garden library.

And the big news here is that the Adopted Crop of 2009, Lemon Cucumbers, are among the first sprouters.

No sign of the bean or corn seeds. Guess they don't appreciate growing in trash. Prima donne.

So, yes, technically the basil sprouted first, being all overachievey and what not, but one of the cukes poked its neck out this morning during Inspection Time and so now it's official - Adopt a Crop 2009 is underway.

That's right, neck first. Sorta weird now that I think about it that way.

In the sense that one of the seeds is sprouting and maybe *MAYBE* it will grow happily in its little recycley greenhouse until it has a couple sets of leaves and then maybe *MAYBE* I will harden it off properly (biggest Maybe of them all, really) and then maybe *MAYBE MAYBE* (this word has lost all meaning now) it will get planted, grow, produce fruits that ripen and get harvested and turned into pickles for one of y'all to enjoy as an adopted pickle visitor in the form of chips.

Phew. That's a lot of maybes BUT STILL, it could happen.

And that's all I need at this point. The point where it's 60 degrees outside but I'm wearing a sleeveless dress anyways because it SHOULD be spring and things SHOULD be growing and I SHOULD be in flip-flops day in and day out already, but sadly I'm not.

Token California comment here: It's OK because we need the rain.

To get through these MAYBE and SHOULD BE times, I do things like sow seeds indoors, wear sleeveless dresses in cold weather, make cold salads for dinner (Hi Bubba, red cabbage coleslaw tonight!), listen to Spring Training baseball while screaming at it like it's regular season and basically pretend my ass off that it's summer already.

So, one could say, that I'm something of a faker right now. But as long as the seeds are coming up in their recycley greenhouse, my sanity level will remain just at Criminally Insane levels.

Now is not a safe time to visit.

01:01:37*

I have discovered a new enjoyable training tactic. One that gives me something to live for as I'm working through my Supah Techinical Training schedule that likes to tell me to run the same long run milage for a month and then just keep increasing it by a mile every month until Race Day arrives.

Hi, boring.

I also realize that this tactic may not be a *new* tactic as much as it is just *new to me*. Which is good enough - I mean, what do I care if it's not new to other people since I'm not other people.

You know what I'm saying.

ANYWAY.

The new enjoyable training tactic I've come upon is this: Feel like a rockstar by running a short race during a long training month.

Like, once you've reached a decent distance in your race training, say - your long runs are longer than six miles, sign up for a race that's shorter than your longest training distance, like a 10K.

It makes you feel like a super hero AND the race isn't super I'm Going To Die hard AND you can have a nice break in the midst of your Supah Technical Training under the guise of "Racing".

Example: Right now, I'm in my Month of Nines, meaning my long runs are nine miles for the month of March, and I ran the Mermaid 10K yesterday, which was a paltry 6.4 miles.

Wait? Did I say 6.4?

I thought a 10K was 6.2 miles?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Too bad the Mermaid crew tacked on an extra .2 for good measure at the end there. According to the announcer woman who was wearing a Halloween costume mermaid skirt thing and yelling into the mic, anyway.

WHOOPSY, people.

Anyway, whatever. I'm over it.

This was before the race when it wasn't raining but was, indeed, quite cold. As evidenced by Bubba in a hood. This is rare.

But, I'll tell you what, this was a nice little run. A run that made the idea of doing nine next weekend and 10 the following four weekends seem less mind-numbing.

The will to go on - that's what I need in the middle of half-marathon training, ya'll. I'm a simple person with simple needs.

So, good times - I got to take a break from my nine milers in a way that didn't make me feel guilty about only running six, the weather didn't turn out shitty like we were expecting. I smiled. I sang along with my iPod (of course I did not actually sing out loud. Don't be crazy.) and even smiled for the race photographer who undoubtedly took a horrible picture of me which I will not be sharing with you all. Apologies.

[UPDATE]

This is the race photographer's photo. Look at how it is not as horrible as I imagined. That is why I'm sharing it with you.

Also to prove to you that I was indeed smiling while running. An act that might suggest that fun was being had. Also, notice how none of those ladies are wearing American flag shorts. Those ladies were just passed. BY ME.

Right before this, I was singing along to California On My Mind by Wild Light.
Which, given the lyrics, is pretty ironic.
Also, nice tights, douchebag.

I had fun?

Perhaps.

Best part was that I was officially in the single digits with my pace! 9.55 to be exact. YES. Yes, that is how I like it. YES!

Whoa.

And not to be a prissy little bitch or anything, but after some of my previous experiences of being dusted by 70 year olds in American flag shorts, I feel that it's important to tell you that I passed people.

Yes, like, I ran past them because I was going faster than they were. And *they* weren't even 70 year olds in American flag shorts. They were, like, fit women in normal gear running at respectable paces and in no apparent physiological despair. AMAZING!

Perhaps the tights aren't the worst thing to happen to my running career.

They may, however, be the worst thing to happen to my fashion career. If I had one of those. Which I don't.

Oh, also, I took 6 minutes off my last official 10K time, which isn't too shabby and makes me feel like all that speedwork torture was a good idea instead of a creative new way to punish myself.

Ok, so it's not the Inaugural Seattle Rock N Roll Half or Full Marathon, but if you're finding it hard to summon the enthusiasm to get out and do your long runs, maybe swap a 10K in for one of your long runs and feel like a hero for the day.

Or do a 5K and REALLY kick some ass.

Right now I'm thinking of a particular 5K notorious for its abundance of American flag shorts-wearers and how they deserve a good dusting from someone in proper shorts.

*Technically, I broke the 1 hour mark on this run, if you use my actual pace (9.55m/m) and multiply it by what the race distance SHOULD have been (6.2) because then I would have done this 10K in 00:59:21. Which would have been great to have as a final time, but NO. Instead I ran an additional .2 miles and have an extra 00:01:37 all to myself. Yay.

That tank top I was knitting

I had this grand plan of how I was going to carry on my I'm a psycho tradition of a First Day of Spring outfit with that tank top I was knitting.

Do you remember this plan I hatched while I was up to my eyes in snow?

Yes, well, perhaps the snow jinxed this outfit somehow, because it's not coming together as I'd hoped.

The tank top, while the right size and not at all fucked up in the pattern department, sadly, has some punishing too-short straps and the length of the top itself is just shy of perfect.

I'd like it to be longer is what I'm saying. And what I'm really saying is that I ignored all the 300+ people on Ravelry who'd already knit this and said that if they were to do it again they'd add a few more inches to the length but did I listen? NO.

So, now I'm one of them! Yay! I fit in!

For the record, if I were to knit this top again (I MIGHT! SHUT UP.) I would add a few more inches to the length. And then I'd post some sort of threatening note to my Ravelry project page for this tank top to convince all future considerers of the Razor Cami to "just knit that extra few inches because otherwise I will fight you." Or something a little more convincing. Whatever - my intentions are good!

See how this would be cuter if it were just a few inches longer? You see.

And then I'd follow this girl's instructions for the straps because hers came out much better. The funny thing is that I suspect that she just followed the pattern's instructions for the straps and that is the perfect way to get me to do it any other way because I suck at following pattern details that fall at the end of the pattern.

The important thing for me to remember, during these moments when I derail myself completely, is that I CHANGED THE STITCH COUNT at the beginning of the pattern so that it would fit me perfectly (god I'm a tard sometimes) and when I get to the end and start to nod off, I have to make those same changes when finishing, say, THE STRAPS, so that it will fit perfectly at the top as well as the bottom.

Oh.

These straps were placed based on where they should be on a larger sized tank top. Whoopsy.

See how the straps are set way wide on my shoulders? Yes, that is not comfy. Also, they are a tad short so the armpit strangling is at its choking best when I put this on and dare hold my arms at my sides. I don't think much blood made it from my brain to my fingers during this brief photo shoot.

And then the last thing, which honestly never occurred to me even though I looked at about a hundred of these FOs in Ravelry, is that it *may* not be work appropriate. Even when worn over a Tshirt or tank top. And this is to no fault of the tank top itself, but more my, um, busty-curviness and the way it takes this tank top from a demure and cozy top to a lusty pseudo-corset.

Anyway. I think I'm getting a mite conservative in my 3-0s because this issue probably wouldn't have passed through my mind 10 years ago, but here I am, feeling like I might be the future office whore if I wander around with my gals stretching out this tank top in such a way.

No, I would not be wearing those jeans to work. Or outside of our house for that matter.

So, sorta sadly, this post is more about what I did wrong with this pattern and how I'm going to fix it so that I love it like I'd planned to love it than a post about how I will be skipping into work like a fruity dumbass tomorrow in my It's The First Day of Spring and Yes I Made This outfit.

Now that I write that out, I don't really feel so sad. Funny, that.

Perhaps I should say some of my ideas out loud to myself (and you guys) before I go trotting off to do something that sounded cool in my head but in real life might be kind of retardo?

Moving on though...I will be fixing these straps later and not feeling bad about abandoning my special-made First Day of Spring Tank Top outfit because I will be wearing my Leaf Tshirt outfit instead as I will be spending the First Day of Spring in the unspringy weather of San Francisco tomorrow.

Hi. I enjoy 70 degree temps and sunshine on my First Day of Spring, Mr. The City. Please do not give me this foggy cold bullshit. Jerk.

But at least I'll be wearing a skirt (albeit a long one) and something handmade (even if it's not a tank top) and it will be spring somewhere (but probably not in SF).

Best laid plans and what not.

The day I do prizes & premeditated murder.

Apparently I've been very prize-y lately because they're stacking up.

Apparently I've also been a little blase about the whole GIVING prizes after I offer them thing, too, because they've been, well, stacking up.

Today, I fix all of this.

For those of you who, way back in the day, said you wanted my cootie-free Covert Bathroom Storage invention, today's your lucky day.

Life is a little strange when Lucky=Tampons.

Well, for one of you it is. Kristin, specifically.

YAY! Congrats!

No one, including your poor house guests (woe) will have to stare at the turquoise and blue box in your bathroom anymore. Also, how is it that we can have so many things in common even down the brand of tampon?

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeird.


Anyway, gaze upon the all-mighty random name chooser machine and then send me your home address to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom so I can mail you off your fabulous prize.

Although, given our sameness, I *should* just *know* your address, because it's probably the same as mine minus the state and zip, but still, send it. You don't want someone else covertly storing their bathroom necessities, do you? No, you do not.

Yours may not look exactly like this. So you know.

And, hey - weird pesto loving people, you're awesome! I had no idea people would be even remotely interested in this bizarre arugula product, but hey, there you are. All 23 of you, saying you want the weird pesto and I'm not even going to play the "maybe they all just want something for free?" game because what good does that do anyone?

None. None at all.

So, lucky Katie D., winner of pesto and seducer of the random name chooser, send me your full name and home address to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom and I'll send you off this weird arugula pesto of mine with a big 100% warning that you may not like it. I mean, it is *weird* after all.


And also, you said it made you want to plant it, so maybe if you like this pesto, you plant some seeds and then you tell me about it because that kind of thing does it for me. I like to see the love out there, rather than just in my own backyard where it may only live because I'm a crazy person.

See, it's hard to be sure unless you see other people doing it. Then I feel normal. ISH.

Anyway - now all the prizes are dispatched and I don't believe I have anything else out there pending a winner, so let's get back to the real show around here which is me premeditating murder for the upteenth ill-fated year in a row.

What?

I planted some seeds indoors even though I know they're totally going to croak when I try to put them outside for the first time and then forget them out there overnight.

Yay?

That's 2 lemon cukes, 1 Silver Queen corn, 2 Sweet basils, 1 Kentucky Blue Lake bean.

Now, I am still planning to direct sow all of these seeds when we get to a steady 70 degrees during the day (it's supposed to get to 70 for the first time today. We shall see.), but since I saw this tutorial on the Craft: blog, I decided to take some of my recyclables and roll the dice on starting seeds indoors.

I mean, it's just a few seeds, right? And it helps me get through the I have beds ready for planting and seeds to go in them but not enough heat and I can't take it days until 70 degrees shows up for good.

Thank god I don't live where it doesn't warm up until May. My head would pop, I'm pretty sure.

Anyway, even if they don't take or die in the hardening off process, the whole mess can be composted (containers and all) and we can pretend like it never happened.

You'll pretend with me won't you?

Tutorial Tutorial [Tutorial]

What? You're confused already? Come now, friends. Let's learn us somethin'.

So, I'm writing a Tutorial Tutorial upon request, since my ways are a little mysterious and doesn't everyone just want to get to the bottom of what the F I'm doing with my tutorials and how do they get PDF'd and linked up and why do they look like that and how.

Don't they?

Well, some people who emailed me do, and that's enough for me. And if you happen to be one of the people that thinks my methods are full of shit, feel free to skip this post and come back when I'm talking about mixing cocktails or something.

Onward!

To give you a little background (because I can't just give you the skinny without a really long ass story first), I was posting these tutorials/recipes/planting instructions and using other people's tutorials/recipes/planting instructions and all the while I was annoyed because in order to take them to the sewing machine/kitchen/garden/etc with me, I would have to print them out and it would always take a billion pages to print and that is wasteful and stupid. Plus then I'd have this stack of papers for one friggen tutorial that could really have been condensed onto one page.

So, sometimes I would open Word, like it was 1997 in my house, and copy/paste the whole business onto a page so that I could condense it myself. Then I'd print the one page and be happy that I only had one page, but pissed that I had to spend all that extra time.

ANNOYING.

When I started creating my own tutorials here, because I'm self-involved and imagine that people want to make things that I invent in my pea brain, I decided that I wasn't going to be that Annoying Tutorial Guy anymore, and actually provide tutorials in a format that begets printing/transporting elsewhere.

Because as green and helpful as it may be to just say, "take your computer with you to the kitchen when you go blending up a vat of tomato sauce", I think we know that it's not happening.

At least not for me. I don't have a place in my kitchen that would keep my laptop safe from hot splattering messiness, so printing is necessary. I just don't think risking the ThinkPad's life for the sake of one sheet of paper makes any sense. But that's me. You decide how much you value the integrity of your machine.

So, here I am, with printable tutorials, which, if you exist near a printer made after the millennium, you could actually print double-sided and only use one measly sheet of paper. And then, if you're like me (You might be! I'm not the only freak around here!), you can slide that one measly sheet of paper into your crafting binder for future use. And when you go to the machine, garden, kitchen, you won't have to wrestle a stapled stack of crap while you're also trying to tame some aggressive chard.

Now that is nice.

So, how does it work? Yeah, let's talk about that.

Tutorial Tutorial
Print this thing

Materials:
A copy of CutePDF (Free)
Word processing software (I use Word. Imagine that.)
A Google Site (Free)

To make:
Create a PDFd tutorial
Basically, create the layout for your tutorials in Word, including slots for images, materials needed, instructions, header logo, project name, copyright logo, etc. I found the best way to make a template that worked for me was just to write up a tutorial, paste in pictures and move the info around until it all fit onto 1-2 pages and was easily readable/understandable.

This layout, which was based on an actual tutorial, was better than me just sitting there designing an "it looks pretty but never fits all the stuff I need" template, which I've been known to do. In the past. It's all in the past now.

Then save your doc as a template (ex: Template_Tutorial.doc) AND ALSO as whatever the tutorial is (ex: Hoop_Scarf_Tutorial.doc).

Go back to your tutorial and click Print.

BUT WAIT - When you choose the printer to Print your copy, choose CutePDF rather than the HP whaddyacall that lives in your closet. Or whatever.

This will prompt you to name your PDF, which I'd suggest naming the same thing as your .doc. (Ex: Hoop_Scarf_Tutorial.pdf) I have a folder for all my tutorials (docs and PDFs) so they're easy to contain.

That was an added bonus, that last part. Enjoy.

Now you have a PDF of your tutorial, so no matter who opens it and no matter what kind of machine they're using (Hi, Mac people. I know you're there.) your document will look just the way you saved it. As long as they have Adobe Acrobat. Which they should. Unless they actually DO live in 1985, which I realize is still a possibility. Albeit a shameful one.

So, now you have a tutorial and a template and the tutorial has been PDF'd. The magic! But how do we get it out to the clamoring masses?

Google, der.

Create a Google Site (*You'll only do this the first time around.)
*If you don't have a Google Site yet, you can get one for free as a part of your Google Account, which is also free. In fact, everything Google is free, which is lovely.

*Enough pimping, just go to sites.google.com, and if you're already signed in to your Google Account (if you're signed into Gmail, you're already in), you'll get a "Welcome to Google Sites" page with a friendly little button to "Create a new site".

Why are we creating a whole website right now? Well, we're not. But we are creating a place for your fancy ass PDFs to live so that you can link to them from your blog, so stop yer whining.

*Click "Create new site" and from the Home page, which is the page to which you'll next be delivered.

Once you've arrived on your new home page, look down at the bottom there to the button that says "Choose File".

Click that. Choose your PDFd tutorial from wherever you saved it. Upload it.

This PDF now appears at the bottom of your home page under Attachments.

Now, if you wanted to, you could make a page here. You could do some designing or get fancy. I have not done this, but that's because I have this blog and, well, that's plenty for now.

Link to your tutorial
Write up your tutorial as wordy and long-winded as you like on your blog/website, using all kind of swears and disjointed storytelling to get your point across.

Then, at some point in your post, offer the tutorial to readers to print. I don't care how you do this, but I just put "Print this thing" right before I launch into my mind-numbing directions and then link it direct to my PDF.

To get the link, just right click on the attachment on your Google Site (it'll say something to the affect of Hoop_Scarf.pdf) and from the menu that appears, click "Copy link address".

Now go back to your blog and highlight, "Print this thing" or whathaveyou, and paste this URL as the link by clicking the "link" button in your blog program or by adding it as the URL in your HTML code.

You know, < href="the link you just copied">Print this thing< /a >? You know.

And then publish your post. Done.

Next time you get a wild hair to post a tutorial, just take an extra 5 to create a new Word doc from your tutorial template (which, remember, you saved as Tutorial Template.doc somewhere on your hard drive) and resave it in the same folder as the new tutorial (ex: Cashmere_Cuff_Tutorial.doc), then print it to CutePDF, upload it to your site and rip the URL for linking from your blog.

And since you're all ginned up and running wild with hyperlinked (there's a good word from 1997) tutorials, you could even add a tutorial menu (or recipes or...or...) to your blog so that people don't have to bloody their knuckles digging through your blog to find them.

Wouldn't THAT be nice? I thought so. See sidebar.

GOOD TIMES.

Just to hammer the point some more, I'll ask you to notice the "Print this thing" link at the beginning of this tutorial. Yes, you can print this tutorial, too. Although I feel like that would be retarded given the lack of splattering tomato sauce involved in creating a PDF, but you make the call.

Soon, we do prizes for this and this.

Craft: along March - Reinventing Pizza Night

I've never really talked, in depth, about Pizza Night in our house, but let me assure you that it is the most important of all the bullshit themed dinner nights because it's the one we've been observing the longest and also, it's pizza, so it's the best.

See, for all of time (since Bubba and I have been together, so about 9 years), Friday night has been Pizza Night in our house and we love it for many reasons.

1. It's pizza, so obviously delicious.
2. I don't have to cook anything, so YAY for me.
3. Bubba doesn't have to do any dishes, so YAY for him.
4. There's leftovers for lunch.
6. It's good fuel for my Saturday AM run.
5. We used to have a rad pizza guy who we called Dark Halo because that's what his car's windshield said on it and he would always be bumpin' some serious gangsta rap when he showed up so we'd know to come out from the backyard to get our pizza. Plus his face was all pierced in a million places and he was nice so we loved him. The new guys aren't nearly as awesome.

I'm sure there are other reasons, but for me, #2 is enough. The fact that I don't have to think about what to make, what I need to get to make it, when I need to get home and cooking to make it happen, etc makes me extra happy on Friday afternoon after a long week of work. It's relaxing. It's easy.

Call pizza place. Tell them to bring dinner. Drink cocktails until they arrive. Eat dinner. Done.

That's the best!

Until we got bored of our pizza place. And then all the surrounding pizza places. And then Bubba started waxing nostalgic about his favorite mystical pizza experience of all times at this phantom pizza joint called Happy Joe's.

"Oh Happy Joe's," he's been saying, "you had the best sauce. Why doesn't anyone make sauce like that anymore except my wife who totally makes the sauce like you guys do but refuses to make pizza for me. *Sigh*"

And then he'd look at me with those sad Bubba eyes and begin the pining away for the reincarnated Happy Joe's pizza which he thought would make it appear before him as though by magic.

It gets a skosh dramatic around our house, you know.

While I'd normally do whatever I could do with my culinary skills to make Bubba happy, pizza was one of those no-no things. Because it meant giving up a night when I don't have to do any work for my dinner and because I've had a lot of fights with inert yeast that fails to become a fluffy pizza dough.

Replacing a night of complacent dining ease with frustration and crushing of spirits is hardly my idea of a good time. And so, we kept ordering pizza from the Not Fun pizza guys and the disappointment over said pizza became increasingly evident.

"This pizza sucks more than last week." was uttered last Friday by someone who will remain unnamed.

It was at that point that I revealed my big plan to make pizza for Sunday's dinner and, SCARY, go back into the water with the pizza dough.

Enter this month's Craft:along challenge: 5 minute pizza dough

My first note for this recipe is that you should, in no way, only allot yourself 5 minutes to make this dough. It takes a full 2 hours to rise, which makes sense to me since it contains yeast, but for some people who want pizza NOW and don't understand the unique properties of yeast, this might come as a mean surprise.

Just saying, don't get all ginned up to have a pizza in 5 minutes because it's not happening.

Second note: Unlike my beloved No-Knead Bread, this dough requires kneading, which is fine because I don't mind. It's kind of fun. If you're into that kind of thing.

Aside from that though, this is a fine pizza dough recipe that I managed to make the first time through without any catastrophic failure.

I know, I was shocked, too.

So, I made up this dough, put it in the bathroom for a couple hours because that the only room in our house where it gets over 40 degrees, and then proceeded to cross my fingers that it'd actually rise like yeasty items are said to do.

I was so sure that this was going to be a disaster that I almost didn't take a before shot.

And what do you know, it actually rose like a good kid.

I guess I should have zoomed out a little, but this dough totally doubled in size. Nice.

While it was doing the magical rising, I compiled the toppings (why do I hate this word?) for our individual pizzas since I'm more of a white pizza gal and Bubba's more of a Make it Just Like Happy Joe's Pizza guy.

That's gorgonzola, olive oil, basil and mozzarella sitting with my G&T.

To detract a little more from the ease of Pizza Night, I went on to make The Sauce from a jar of homecanned tomatoes because I am, let it be known, The Best Wife Ever. Yep.

Also, my The Best Pizza Sauce Ever. Yep. is just The Best Tomato Sauce Ever. Yep. with some added oregano and a bit more wine. Still though - The Best. Just ask Bubba.

That's The Best Pizza Sauce Ever. Yep. with some pepperoni and black olives. Just like Happy Joe's. Oh swoon.

Thankfully, he was excited enough about the coming to fruition of this Dream Pizza to put on a little show for me while I lazed in the breakfast nook, admiring my swollen feet.

This never touched the floor. True story.

After all the dramatics, our pizzas came out beautifully and we enjoyed them properly with a nice happy hour and some catching up of Family Guy on the new DVR.

Why yes, it does look good enough to be on TV! That's what I said!

This was apparently a perfect reincarnation of the Happy Joe-ness. FINALLY.

And now I will go home and get some dough rising because, LO, Pizza Night has been reinvented and we're making pizza for ourselves tonight so we can properly mourn the departure of Dark Halo, as overdue as that particular gesture might be, and also so we can feel superior to the local pizza joints because of our sauce and homemade-ness.