Project #2: Lemon somethingorother

I realized I was typing this ode to last weekend's project #2 right on the cusp of another weekend and that made feel like something of a slow ass, but the joy of a fresh new weekend is nearly upon me so I decided that I don't care. I think you'll agree this is the best way to go.

As for this project of Lemon Somethingorother, it was not a project I particularly enjoyed.

See, here's the thing, when we got married we got some really awesome cookbooks from people. One awesome one in particular was Luscious Lemon Desserts by Laurie Longbotham (just go ahead and laugh at her name, we always do because we're evils). Over the few years of our maritals, I have made a lot of the recipes from this book. Some more than others. Some at such regular and torturous intervals that I want to rip those recipes from the book and burn them so that I never have to make them again. Other recipes I love and adore so much that they are the first things I want to make when I'm carrying two giant grocery bags of lemons home from our friend's house.

I will let you guess which was on the docket for last weekend's Somethingorother.

The thing is this, we (Bubba and I - the creatures don't get to vote) all have our favorites around here and sadly our favorites aren't only contrary, they sometimes involve name-calling and threats of bodily harm.

I, for one, love very much the lemon meringue pie recipe and lemon shortbread while Bubba loves only the demonic Crisp Lemon Wafers. He turns a mean blind eye to all other recipes in this book.

He is a one cookie man.

And because I buy his love with food, any time I get set to bake I ask him what he wants. And then I wait for the horrible inevitable answer: Lemon Wafers.

It doesn't matter if I'm holding a pound of sirloin and pastry crust and making for the Boulevard cookbook - he wants Lemon Wafers.

At one point in his life he ate 11 dozen lemon wafers (ELEVEN DOZEN - That is 132 cookies) on a long snowy drive to Reno because he didn't want to stop the car and find other food.

If I hadn't pledged to spend my whole life loving this man till death do us part, I'd probably have brained him with the cookbook by now, but I did make that pledge and I do love this man and so even though I hate making these cookies SO FUCKING MUCH, I took to the kitchen with four lemons from the new collection and went to work.

About a hundred tedious years later, I emerged from the kitchen with a plate stacked high with Crisp Lemon Wafers. And Bubba was a happy cookie man.

Now, I am sure you can understand how a person could hate one cookie recipe so much that it would inspire fits of online swearing and rage because obviously all people have irrational emotions like this, but I'll explain for those of you well-balanced people with normal lives who don't do bizarre things like ban recipes from your kitchen and hide crucial ingredients so as to make recipes "impossible because I am out of lemon oil, sorry!".

I am a fan of drop cookies. Those cookies that get their batter mixed up in the KitchenAid and then spooned haphazardly onto sheets and slammed in the oven for 8-10 minutes. These cookies are fast, fabulous and easy.

I am not a fan of cookies that have any of the following attributes included in their preparation:

• the food processor
• rolling of dough
  
• chilling of dough
• thin slicing of dough
• rechilling of dough
• re-thin slicing of dough

and so on.

And wouldn't you know that these Crisp Lemon Shitheads have all of the above.

They take forever, are totally touchy and I don't have a cutting apparatus thin enough or magic enough to slice them properly (read: to my satisfaction) so that I'm able to bake the whole batch at once. This means I get to rechill all the dough and bake the rest later.

YIPPEE!

No.

Anyway, I'm sure you can now see why these inspire spitting hatred on my part. However, I do try to set aside my attitude long enough to enjoy how happy Bubba gets when they're out of the oven and free for munching.

And this time it took him two whole days to go through the batch.

Much like other painful recurring events in life, the joy comes when you've finally completed the terrible task and are farthest from having to repeat it. Like going to the gyno or paying taxes, it's that "Phew! Now I'm off the hook for a while and can stop trying to inadvertently drive my car off the road!" feeling that makes it all worth it.

Plus he looks so happy covered in little yellow crumbs and I get to go do something else like pull all the weeds in the backyard.

My life is so glam.

Weekend Project #1: Amy Butler's Lotus Tunic Thingee

So, I have a lot of opinions about this pattern, most of which I'll go into shortly, but first I would like to say YAY I MADE MY FIRST DRESS WOO!

Even though this is technically from the "Tunic" pattern rather than the "Dress" pattern, but whatever because that brings me to Opinion #1:

How the F am I supposed to know the difference between The Tunic and The Dress when this looks long enough to be a dress and there aren't any pictures of The Dress on the package to which I could compare The Tunic photo and then conclude onceandforall which is which and which I want.

I'd like to see photos of every possible combination of the pattern. So, for those taking note, I would like a photo of each of the following:

Sleeveless Cami (check)
Cami with Sleeves
Sleeveless Tunic
Tunic with Sleeves (check)
Sleeveless Dress
Dress with Sleeves
+ all of the above shown with The Mystery Belt and corresponding Surprise Belt Loops

Don't get cheap on me pattern making people - photos, take a lot of damn photos and show me every possible combo of your F'n pattern so that I can decide which one will win my undivided attentions. And also show The Mystery Belt which is so named due to the fact that my first interaction with it was when I was cutting out the pattern pieces and there was a WHOOPIE DOO belt and belt loops to cut out SURPRISE and WHAT IS THIS because I didn't see it featured in any of the package photos.

My thought is only this: It can't be easy making a modular pattern, so get the most bang for your buck and photograph all of the combinations of patterns over which you so mightily slaved. Also it makes it easy for me to keep the lid on my crazy when I realize there are inexplicable extra pieces to cut out and sew.

Speaking of bucks...

Opinion #2: Spending $70 on fabric to make this tunic is really unacceptable.

Yes, there is other fabric in the store and yes I can buy something other than organic cotton muslin for the liner BUT is there a good reason why Amy Butler fabric has to be $16.99/yard? I'm not sure.

I was able to justify buying fabric to make this tunic rather than spending $70 on a beautiful and already made item of clothing because:

A. This garment is unique and can't be found at Santana Row.
B. It provided nearly a full day's worth of sewing entertainment.
C. You don't get bragging rights about SEWING YOUR FIRST DRESS WOO when you buy it at Banana and your coworker has the same one OOPS.

Opinion #3

If you're going to go to the trouble of making a hundred combinations for this pattern (which I appreciate really despite my ranting to the contrary) please also print some nice options for placing The Mystery Belt and Surprise Belt Loops so that I don't have to suffer the indignity of myself wearing a belt at natural waist height after a long day of sew slaving, k?


As you can see, the belt and corresponding loops are right at natural waist height.

Barf.

No one likes this.

It only looks good on, like, 1% of the population. And plus, A-line looks better on 100% of the population and having the option to place the belt at A-Line or Empire waist height would be just oh so much better.

And then you might see me modeling The Mystery Belt and Surprise Belt Loops instead of, you know, not modeling them and instead covering the loops with my hands until I can make it back to the machine to either remove them or move them up to a more flattering spot. Kinda sucks since the belt is cute and I want to wear it, but just not like that right in the middle so I'll look like a fatty right here on the Internets.

Opinion #4: NO HAND SEWING

I will say this again, for at least the third official time on this blog, for the love of all that's holy, FIND A WAY TO MACHINE SEW THE DAMN ZIPPER ALREADY.

I can't tell you what a heartbreaking annoyance it is to be *soclose* to done and then have to stop, dig out a hand sewing needle and tediously sew the fucking liner to the zipper because there's no way to hide the seam otherwise.

I contend that there *must* be a way. And it's clearly getting to the point where I'm going to have to figure out what way that is because every time I have to hand sew in a zipper or whatever, it makes me want to jam the needle in my eye and go running to the liquor cabinet.

Now you know why I sew at the dining room table. It is because of its vicinity to our liquor cabinet. So, yes, now you know what kind of boozing seamstress I really am so there.

And just so I don't make a big ironical ass of myself, I will show you a lot of photos of my FO Lotus Tunic dress with Cap Sleeves:


If I manage to get back to the machine with this beast I hope to either adjust the belt loops or destroy them in a ritualistic way, reverse the hem lining (which I OF COURSE hemmed wrong side up and made extra noticeable with the contrast stitching that I thought was *so cute*) and take in the waist so that it fits me a little snugger.

While I appreciate fitting into a smaller category measurement-wize (wuv you, Size Small), I always have to make for the larger size to accommodate the, ahem, bust. This leaves me with tops, dresses and Tunics that need waist cinching so that I don't go frolicking a la potato sack. It is OK though. I'm willing to cinch shit in as long as the bust agrees to stay where it is and no go making for my knees and what have you.

Either way...

Final Opinion: YAY I MADE MY FIRST DRESS WOO!

Holy crop

I am so relieved that you people seem excited about my Big Stupid Idea (TM) and didn't shun me from your Readers like I kinda suspected you might.

I mean, who'd really expect to get that kind of enthusiasm about choosing a vegetable crop? Ok, unless you're me because I obviously live for that shit.

But man! You guys really came to the table.

That is cool. It makes me feel like not a too big loser since it would appear that there are other people out there that want to see things grow. Vegetable things!

And I feel like I am accepted, or at least tolerated, and that when I post things like, "OMG look at the first bloom on my tomato plant!" or "Why are the leaves turning this color because it doesn't look right TELL ME NOW IF YOU KNOW CUZIAMFREAKINGOUT!" you won't all look away and go read more interesting things and pretend like you never knew me.

That is a relief. And PHEW.

However.

Y'all are so crazy also! There are 100+ (as in, 101) votes for Adopt a Crop! Holy shit. That's a lot of voting.

Whether the votes were all unique, I can't say. And I'll just leave it at that because I can't be responsible for validating votes when there's people desperate enough to forgo a lunch hour for a few moments of clandestine voting from coworkers unattended laptops.

Not that this really happened or anything, but I'm just saying that if it did I'm not in the business of deciding who is crazy and who is not because I am clearly not a credible judge in this matter.

Ahem.

Anyways, when all was said and done (meaning my seeds showed up and we crested 100 votes and I had to stop the madness), the proud adoptee with 25% of the votes was...

Pickling Cucumbers

Ta dah!

Ok, it sounded more impressive and dramatic in my head, but you know what I mean. Imagine horns and drums and confetti falling from the sky and Bubba getting out the hot dog buns because I'm going to try to sow, cultivate, grow, harvest and pickle cucumbers for the #1 time in my life.

Oh.

*The Pressure*

But now is the golden time in gardening, people. The time when The Summer Garden and Its Bounty is a grand untarnished vision of perfection without any heartbreaking beetle discoveries or wilty this or dropping blooms that.

This is the time when I can often be found (drinking) with my empty beds, staring into the soil, fondling seed packets and imagining when I'll be standing over these same beds being wickedly sunburned as I try to pick *every last tomato* even though the basket is totally overloaded and I have nowhere to put them and it's WAY too hot to be canning anything since we don't have AC and Bubba has moved into a hotel with the dog.

Yes, I think about these things. A lot. Because I'm obviously a nutter with an unhealthy connection to my vegetable beds and spend a lot of time fantasizing about things in a way that normal people might describe as "obsessive".

Those people don't get to (*hoping*) pickle cucumbers this year though and I do (again *hoping*) so take that SUCKAH.

For those of you who voted for the beloved Pickling Cucumbers, congrats - your nominee has been chosen and will now be cultivated to the best of my abilities.

For those of you who voted for one of the other candidates, do not fear, I may opt to grow a Dream Ticket of sorts by choosing another veg for the Soon to Be Built fourth bed.

For all, I will stop drawing political parallels between my vegetable growing and this year's presidential race because no one wants to hear about Butternut Squash's health care reform plan or how the Salsa Jalapenos could bring much needed change to the garden or whatever.

No, I will just spend the week thinking salacious thoughts about how I am SO going to the nursery on Saturday to get peat pots to start my tomato plants in the breakfast nook ASAP since you know that Saturday is March 1 which is our last frost day WOO!

Funky again

Ya'll, I'm feeling funky again.

Like in that, football-is-over-and-baseball-is-a-ways-off-and-the-garden-isn't-growing-yet kind of way.

It's annoying and predictable and makes me all biggigity.

Which means that I must obviously need a project to keep my mind distracted from things like how come there's no good sports on TV and I wish I had vegetables growing in the garden to fondle.

And since I'm extra ADD - I am thinking I need at least two projects - and if some supplies arrive today from my friends at etsy, three projects, because my mind can't be funky AND do three projects at once as it turns out.

Salvation in chaos, I say.

Project #1: Amy Butler's Lotus Cami Tunic thingee

Kell sent this to me not too long ago and I want to make it and wear it just like this. Maybe over the jeans I just ordered from my favorite catalog of all time because WHOOPSY I think I just ordered a few things to ease the rainy day doldrums.

Well, these things happen.

So, tomorrow I plan to trot off to Eddie's and get some fabric and probably also some notions to put this baby together. With any luck it I will eye-fuck the measurements just right and it won't look retarded. I feel confident (probably unjustly so) since my last few items of Clothing I Made Myself from Amy's patterns came out decent and wearable and didn't look like *I made them myself* - which is an extreme bonus.

Project #2: Bake some lemon somethingorother

We picked sacks full of lemons and oranges from a friend's trees last weekend and now I'm getting the eye from Bubba which means I better get to baking some lemon somethingsorother pretty soon. Also, no one likes it when the lemons turn to dust in the fruit colander, which I found out the hard way will totally happen thanks to last year's debacle with six bags of lemons that didn't get used all the way. Ew.


Project #3: This is a dorky one that involves magnets, marbles and a dorkyDORKY collection I've been cultivating (also hiding) for a lot of years.

Once my stuff gets here I will get to dorking out for your viewing pleasure. Stay tuned and then don't judge me, ok?

AND (I couldn't stop at three projects - what is my problem?) I *might* take a stab at rounding out the Anatomy of a Sweater project, too. See, there's just the one big piece left and it just needs a few seams to become something other than discarded ugly sweater meat, so I should just get it over with and declare victory which is what I was after to begin with.

One last thing: if you're keeping score (which, I'll admit, would be a little strange but OK) in the Adopt a Crop race, our friends the Pickling Cucumbers have taken a surprise lead and are now ahead with 24% of the vote.

I'm not going to say outright that I am suspicious of subversive shenanigans, but I'm not ruling it out is all.

Either way, once the rest of my seeds arrive (AND I'VE RECEIVED A SHIPMENT CONFIRMATION WOO!) I will call off the voting and declare a winner, so go vote if you care to see posts other than those accompanied by suggestive and inappropriate photographs, but this time with cucumbers.

If you like that sort of thing then I guess you can just sit there and be pervy because it looks like the world is working out in your weird way without you having to even turn off the Cinemax or anything. Lucky you, cucumber lovers!

Also, hey!, I'm still running for those of you wondering if I've flaked, but I'll give an update on that later.

The Science

One day a year I set aside all of the school age promises I made to myself and I do some science.

Why would I do such a traumatizing thing that is so certain to bring about swearing and the inevitable and also verboten activity known as EVIL math?

Because having a bountiful garden is *that* crucial to my existence.

If only my chem and bio teachers had known this in high school, perhaps they would have included some lessons on how to analyze soil and calculate amendments for optimum tomato harvests instead of making me slice up a McDonald's hamburger and test it for nutrients (of which it contained "too few for a reliable sample").

Alas, they did not. We tested french fries, too, and I believe also the giant soda in a Combo Meal, none of which got me any closer to understanding the true nutrients in a normal diet OR the right amount of phosphate to add to soil which showed "Somewhat depleted" on its test indicator.

*Sigh*

This just all meant that when I became The Crazy Garden Lady, I was going to have to learn the hard way about what happens when you plant tomatoes in the same bed two seasons in a row without doing squat to the soil.

In a phrase, Soul Crushing Disappointment is what.

And so that I never have to stare teary-eyed at another shriveled and unproductive tomato plant again, I do The Science. And then begrudgingly, I do The Math.

Although, I do keep it real by at least doing Finny's Fuzzy Math which includes a lot of eye-fucking of the measurements and rounding around of numbers and such. Also - Big Love to Google Calculator for doing most of The Math for me so that I don't have to kill myself with the rake. Woo! Pounds to ounces, ounces to cups - DO IT ALL muhuhahahahaha - and I'll take all the credit for not accidentally adding 40x the amount of potassium to the soil as I was supposed to whoops.

And because I'm extra crazy semi-organized in a fuzzy sort of way, I even had last year's measurements in the same notepad that I took out to do this year's measurements. Whoa.

Anyway, the analyzing and measuring and wandering of the amendment aisle at the nursery with a dog who would really just like to roll naked in a big bag of bat poop is over and the beds are ready for their seeds. Which I hope will show up soon. Because hello I ordered them over a week ago and would like to touch them and talk to them and tell them that they are going to have the raddest home ever as soon as it rains and finishes "cooking" the soil.

Please all start to send fast-moving thoughts to the seed people and ask them nicely (but sternly) to get tuh shipping so I can stop staring at our mailbox in that annoying stalker way.

While we wait though, why don't you just keep voting on which crop you would adopt for the empty space in Bed #3 and I'll take the pooch to the park so she can sniff some dog butt and hopefully get the guano out of her nostrils. Then, when the seeds get here, I'll call off the voting and announce the big winner of Empty Slot in Bed #3 and we can all be on our way.

For those of you keeping score, Butternut Squash is still in the lead, but as of right now there is a three way tie for 2nd place between Beets, Sweet Peppers and Salsa Peppers. Poor Pickling Cucumbers are trailing - but only by 1 point. So, if you want to read posts where I make lewd and suggestive comments about phallic vegetables and also try my very hardest to make pickles, you better get to voting otherwise it's going to be all Butternut Squash this or Salsa Pepper that despite your deep down wishes.

And, really, wouldn't that just be a shame.

Have you Adopted a Crop?

Perhaps I've been affected by legal minutia at work lately because I'm feeling inexplicably inclined to remind you to go vote on your Adopt a Crop of choice before I go slamming shut the voting and run off to the yard to plant things against everyone's supreme wishes.

Usually I'd just be like, "You had your chance now shuddup and leave me to my dirt", but I'm trying out a little patience and kindness here which you well realize is a departure from my typical self.

I will admit to not liking it a bunch, so don't expect a lot more of these kind of niceties. Plus, don't you like me better with my sassy rude pants on anyway?

See, me too.

So, go vote for the veg you'd like to watch grow up in my yard (*fingers crossed* it doesn't meet an untimely dog pee death or something), especially if you aren't a fan of Butternut Squash because that is what's currently leading the pack with 33% of the votes.

Also, right on that so many varying votes came in. While Bubba was all about the pickling cukes and why are you even asking for opinions just plant the damn cucumbers I like, I was excited in a dorky way to get y'all into the spirit of my garden so that I could have at least a small audience of interested eyeballs for my weirdo posts on tiny sprouts and LOOK AT THIS FIRST FRUIT and what not.

Now, don't go being a big fucking whiner if *your* veg isn't the big winner, k? Because you just never know if someone got overly anxious to get their seed order in and actually just hedged their bets and ordered all the vegs on the list. And you also don't know if someone makes a habit of planting at least a few more things than originally planned because the seeds are right there and what will it hurt, right?

YOU JUST DON'T KNOW.

So, whatever. Just something to keep in mind. But still, no promises. And don't look at me like that. You knew what you were getting into with me. I speedskate in the living room for godssake. Clearly I'm a little off my nut.

Adopt a Crop

Hello, people.

I am home from riding a lot of powder and enjoying what I heard someone call, "Winter". Of course, here in NorCal it looks a lot like spring, what with the blooming flowers and all, but in places like CO, they're still calling it winter because of the snowing and single digit temps. Crazy.

But since things here are green, sunny and getting close to The Last Frost Date, my mind has begun to shift to other things like gardening.

And really, if you think I wasn't gardening while I was snowboarding, you would be wrong.

Even if my hands aren't elbow deep in an overgrown tomato plant reaching for that big beast that I could almost reach if only my arms were thismuch longer I'm still gardening in some way.

Right now that way is cross-legged on my office couch surrounded by seed catalogs, my Great Gardening Companions book, my notes from years past, my sketchbook and the creatures who wish I'd just get off their couch and take them for a walk instead of weighing the benefits of pickling versus lemon cucumbers.

For some reason this bores them?

I'm not sure how they could possibly be bored since Bubba just agreed to put in a fourth (!!!) vegetable bed for me. When we moved in it was two, then three and now (because I whine maybe) it's going to be four.

Four vegetable beds inside which I can plant WHATEVER I WANT WOO!

See, are you bored? Impossible.

Funny thing though, I now have extra space for all those plants that get passed up at the nursery or left as seeds in their pouches in the garage and I can't decide which to plant! And woe is me, what is a Finny to do?

Um, put it out to y'all to decide, of course. Outsourcing!

How to play Adopt a Crop:

Choose from the list of vegs below and then I do all the work to make your choice turn into food.

Easy!

And almost totally unlike "adopting". In fact, you don't have to do anything, but if I end up bringing The Crop to fruition and it can be prepared in a way that facilitates shipping, I might just send it for a visit. And then you don't have to return it or anything. Just eat it and pretend that's what you do when you adopt something.

Think of the fun...You get the glory of having the veg of your choice found, sown, cultivated, harvested and prepared without any of the loud swearing, soul sucking sweating or endless worrying that comes with actually putting hand to soil.

Plus, it'll all be chronicled for you right here at a safe distance from the scorching sun with photos, mind-numbing recounts of sprouting dates and all the minutia that goes along with bringing a crop to fruition.

Oh, and when I say, "crop", I mean, "vegetable plant that fits in 3'x6' raised bed" - in case you were wondering while picturing a hillside of cornrows or something.

I have my finger on the trigger (ie. the "Buy" button at rareseeds.com) and am all ready to order up the winner. Just make your choice from the list below and let the adopting begin!

Which crop would you adopt?
	Butternut Squash
	Pickling Cucumbers
	Beets
	Salsa Jalapenos
	Sweet Bell Peppers
Free polls from Pollhost.com

And then I will ask that you join me in finger-crossing for a Last Frost Date that does not run contrary to the Farmers Almanac (3/1).

GO.

Gone Riding

Be back in a week with bruises in weird places and updates about old road games and the current powder conditions in Steamboat Springs, CO. Meanwhile, I'll be throwing new photos into this slideshow throughout the week because I can't leave the damn computer alone. So, enjoy.

xoxo
Finny

Extreme Sabbath Mode - Decommissioned

It would be 100% impossible for my Sears Repair(ahem)man to have done a worse job "repairing" my oven and micro. And it would be wholly unfathomable to imagine a way that Sears' repair service, in general, could be more ineffective without actually burning my house down and handing me the bill.

There, I said it and it's out there. I no longer maintain the blind loyalty to Sears built from childhood memories of fully functioning Kenmore appliances that I did until this situation presented itself. I just don't.

I will say, however, that my oven and microwave have now been restored to their normal, nearly new, functioning state -which is a thing of great beauty since I've spent the last three weeks braving the ever-snapping jaws of the handle-free oven door so that Bubba and I could eat a few decent baked meals.

But to get back to my cathartic ranting, and to entertain you with the jackassery that is Sears in "repair" mode, allow me to recount for you some of the highlights of my early morning (since when does an 8-12N window show up at 8am on the dot?) appliance repair:

1. The oven handle was "repaired" initially by installing it upside down. Yes, even though the warming drawer immediately below the oven door has the exact same handle which was obviously installed with the right side up and right there for reference.
   
   When he got all excited and called me away from my laptop to inspect his work I had to let him down easy by pointing to the handle and asking him patiently to, "...please go ahead and reinstall this properly as demonstrated by the handle on the warming drawer? ThanksIwillbeintheofficewhenyouaredonefuckingaround."
   
   
2. I was informed, with much puppy dog-like excitement, that the microwave light bulbs that the previous technician ordered for me were, in fact, the incorrect wattage and that he, Mr. Great Sears Repairman To The Rescue, had gone ahead and ordered the correct bulbs that would be shipped to me At No Extra Charge, as though that were some great favor or reassurance.
   
   It was at this moment that I realized he was referring to the exterior light bulb (shines down on the oven below) rather than the interior light bulb (lights up my popcorn to make sure it doesn't blow up) which was the bulb which was actually broken and which the previous Not As Retarded As This Maniac Was Making Him Out To Be repairman had ordered.
   
   So, yes, today's repairman was informing me that my light bulbs were wrong when, in fact, it was he who was wrong and trying to jam a the wrong sized bulb into the wrong socket. This was another tender moment which I handled by barely rolling my eyes and just saying, "No, the exterior light is fine. It works. See...," *turning light on and off for effect*, "it is the light INSIDE the oven that needs a new bulb. See..." *opening and closing door for effect*.
   
   "OH!" Indeed.
   
   And before you get all, "Why didn't you just put in the new light bulb yourself, lazy ass." I will tell you that I considered it, but chose to act on pure principle because of my Inner Rage and Contempt for Sears.
   
   But, can we all just go ahead and say it together, for fun; dude wasn't the brightest bulb in the box.
   
   
3. Also, finally, he scuffed the ever loving HELL out of my floors with his black rubber soled retard boots. That's it. I just thought it was stupid that they don't have a rule about appliance repair people wearing non-marking soled shoes since they spend all day long traipsing in and out of people's houses where there might be a floor made of a surface other than sparkly garage floor epoxy. My house is not a fucking auto shop, folks - we can stop acting like it is.
   
   And, no, he didn't notice this or offer to clean it up. So I got to spend ten minutes on my hands and knees thanking the good lord for inventing the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser so that I didn't have to spend the rest of my day hunting this bastard down with a crossbow and a floor mop that I do not own.

Anyway, I thought I'd update you all on the mind-numbing minutia of My Life with Sears and also tell you that I have a whole new fun thing to talk about and get your thoughts on which will be in a future post where I promise not to bitch about my oven or threaten bodily harm on any repairmen.

Unless, of course, another appliance breaks and I'm forced to activate another Sears warranty. In which case, I will resume my ranting with equal or greater enthusiasm.

Happy Baking!

Anatomy of a Sweater: Projects 2 & 3

I really thought the remaining projects from my sweater were going to be easy like Sunday morning and all, which is why I put myself out there to make them.

I mean, obviously.

If I thought that finding projects for all the remnant pieces of this sweater was going to be time consuming or, like, a big time sucking challenge I would have saved myself the hassle and gone for the seventh and final trip to the Goodwill bag with this sweater I'm learning to hate.

Now, I'm not ready to call this a time sucking failure yet - it hasn't come to that. But I did imagine that these two projects were going to just fly out of my hands and be all perfect and "Wow! I can do something useful with an old ugly sweater" which I guess they kinda did, but perhaps I didn't start out with a lot of patience which is how they ended up seeming more time intensive than I'd originally imagined.

Because, yes, while I made this whole project out to be one based on whimsical premises like Reuse and Simplicity and Usefulness, in my head these projects also needed to be FAST and then PERFECT.

I apparently have very high standards for products made from the loins of a $20 Old Navy sweater. I'm silly.

Project #2: Fingerless Gloves

Y'all know what a big fat whore I am for fingerless gloves. I must have about 10 pair now. And I buy/knit/sew them constantly because I guess I think I live in Antarctica and that I can't leave the house with my knuckles showing lest they freeze clean off my hands and leave me with finger nubs. Meanwhile I wear flip-flops all year long and my toes don't thaw until the temps go above 80 degrees. Perhaps I need more fingerless gloves for my feet? Who can say.

Anyway, this project is so easy I doubt I need to explain in mind-numbing detail the teensy seams or where I sliced the fabric, but for consistency's sake, I'll say a few things.

1. If you like longer gloves, leave the sleeves long when you cut them free of the sweater. I chose to make these short because I've been having a difficult time lately (because I'm a retard) getting my long gloves shoved up my coat sleeves because I tend to forget my gloves until after I've put on my coat and then where does that leave me? I can't be taking my coat back off just to put on gloves. No, that's what sane people do.
   
2. You might be tempted to run a zigzag stitch along the bottom raw edge here. I was. And it turned out terribly. Now, this may just be an indication of how lame I am with the machine, but I decided after much poking of the gloves and personal contemplation that the raw edge was kind a neato and rustic and I was going to leave it for now until I had a premonition on how to improve upon it. Perhaps a sewn on cuff that folds over would look good? I dunno. You try!
3. The thumb hole was my only real triumph with this project. I simply used my handy razor blade to slice open JUST the thread that was sewing the seam together on the inside edge of the cuff to a size just wider than my thumb. Then I seamed and backtacked on the top and bottom edge to make sure there wouldn't be any mid-wear unraveling happening.
   

If you ever get the wild hair to slice up a sweater and make these, I'd love to see how you doctor this recipe. I'm sure y'all are much more inventive than I. However, I have a new pair of fingerless gloves now and will be enjoying them in the snow where my knuckles might have a chance of coming in contact with freezing air and so I must bar them from such interaction with wooly gloves cut from old sweaters. No, this is not ghetto at all.

Project #3: Mug Sweater



At first I was calling this a Mug Cozy, but I have a thing with the word and concept of "cozies" mostly because it makes me think of toilet paper and also useless crocheted items from the 70s that lived in houses of family members who will remain unnamed.

However, this is a useful device for me because, unlike toilet paper, the temperature of my mug is something of relative importance to me and when there is a method by which I can maintain the proper temperature of my mug, I will use it.

Again, the makings of this item from the scraps of the sweater's waistband was pretty simple, so I'll just recap quickly the few tips I gathered in my short session:

To make these, just cut the waistband off a ribbed sweater, measure the fabric for your mug by eyefucking it to get the desired width, cut, fold in half with right sides facing and sew two short seams on top and bottom of the fold leaving enough open space to accommodate the handle of your favorite mug.

Tips:

1. Don't measure the fabric width by laying your mug on it and then folding your fabric in half. This is too much to ask of the very technical "eyefucking it" method. You probably know that wouldn't work, but you know that I did it and then ended up with a supah snug sweater for my mug that didn't work out. So, instead, I suggest using the aforementioned method and adding a third the total width of the fabric before cutting.
   
   
2. Using a zigzag stitch worked fine. Especially after I realized that my seams only needed to be about 1/2 - 1 inch on top and bottom to accommodate the mug handle.

That's about it. Clearly, not the most earth shattering of patterns/ideas/blog posts, but I think you'll agree that at least the ribbing from the sweater's waistband looks sorta smart on my favorite blue mug. And, hell, it took me all of 10 minutes to go from nekkid mug to sweatered mug which is a lot less time than it would take if I knitted one of these thingees like I keep seeing people doing.

I will now be making tea so that I can ogle my Temperature Maintenance Innovation of the 21st century while also probably wearing my new Fingerless Gloves. Because I'm that way. And also cold.

We can't learn + Eggplant Stacks

I'm not sure if I'm actually cooking more now since the oven handle broke THE HELL OFF or whether it just seems that way because I'm made poignantly aware of its brokenness every time I have to pry the scorching door open with oven mitts on both hands. But either way, I've been cooking stuff while I wait for Sears (there, I said it) to get off their dead asses and actually fix my oven rather than just stare blankly at it while fingering their earholes.

The fact that the oven has no handle and the glass front is leaning against the back wall in the kitchen means very little to me. Bubba did a fine job securing the remnants of the door with a couple washers and drywall anchors, and that means to me that all systems are Go if I want to bake something.

Which I do. Seemingly more so now that the oven is something of a novelty item of doom. So it won't hold its temp, takes one hundred years to preheat and tries to remove my fingers by snapping shut at inopportune moments? Not going to stop me from inventing Eggplant Stacks for Mahjong night.

OH NO.

Anyhoo, last Saturday was Mahjong night. A night which is typically spent catching up with a couple close friends over drinks, dinner and the recounting of the game's instructions because Bubba and I haven't been able to retain any knowledge about the game despite the fact that this is probably our sixth Mahjong night and our friends are quite skilled at explaining the game in great patient detail to drunk people (us).

Not that we even appear to remember the rules DURING play since, at one point, both Bubba and I had winning hands (hands? I'm not sure if this is even the right term for The Tiles Which One Possesses on Their Person During Play) but were both too retarded to know how to actually go about winning. No, we just sat on our "hands" and illegally tried to win by declaring our victories at inappropriate times and with unacceptable methods to the great suppressed eye-rolling of our gracious friends.


You probably now realize how crucial it is that I serve these friends of ours a decent meal beforehand so that they don't stone us to death with the tiles before the night's end. I figured if we were going to tempt fate and invite these nice friends of ours over, again for the sixth time, for a night of "Wait - can I take that tile for an out of turn run?" and "Is it Pong or Ping?", I'd better make something real good that they could reflect on while deciding whether to knife us under the table the next time we declare victory with nothing but a hand full of bullcrap and a smile. Obviously I needed to put The Best Tomato Sauce Ever. Yep. on something.

Thus my inspiration for the meal:

Eggplant Stacks with The Best Tomato Sauce Ever. Yep.

Ingredients
2 eggplants, sliced to 1" rounds (feel free to slice edges to make them fit in your dish, as seen below. Ahem)
1 bunch of fresh basil leaves
1 8 oz. ball buffalo mozzarella packed in water or whey, sliced to 1/2" rounds
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling (hate this word so much)
Sea salt
Fresh ground pepper

See sauce recipe here

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

In a 9x9 glass baking dish, drizzle (UGH) some olive oil in the bottom and sprinkle with salt. Begin by laying four rounds (or squares if you have to cut it that way) on the oiled dish and drizzling with a bit more oil and a tiny pinch of salt. Next stack the mozzarella slices and top with a large basil leaf. Repeat the layering once more and finish with a basil leaf atop a slice of oiled eggplant.

Like so:

Cover each stack with The Best Tomato Sauce Ever. Yep. and slam in the preheated oven for about 30 minutes or until the eggplant is soft.

Like so:

Allow to cool for a few minutes before plating.

Suggestion: Use this time to unsober your guests so that they will be less mad when they see how little you remember about the game rules.

Enjoy!

Another suggestion: When you've been sitting there for 10 minutes, draining your fourth glass of wine, wondering WHOSE TURN IS IT DAMN IT I DON'T HAVE ALL NIGHT FOR YOU SLOW POKES. It is your turn and you should go before the aforementioned knifing begins.

Button Scarf + Anatomy of a Sweater

I knew when I chose the Button Scarf as our first project that people would probably be hating on it from the get go. Because of the faux furriness of it and everything.

I mean, my first reaction to seeing it in the book was, "Really? Faux fur? Is it 1983? Ew."

But almost right away my mind started churning to the tune of what if I knitted the front panel or what if I used fleece or what about corduroy or what about OMG WHAT ABOUT IF I USED THAT OLD WOOL SWEATER THAT GOT FELTED AND THEN LEFT IN THE SCRAP BIN TO BE FORGOTTEN UNTIL NOW?

Yes. And then I went to the scrap bin to exhume the sweater and decided that, indeedio, I would be making my Button Scarf from this old ass Old Navy sweater which had gone in and out of the Goodwill bag about six times before getting felted and thrown in with the other fabric cast-offs. You know, for futures.

And, TEE DAH, the future was here. My $20 sweater of yore was going to become a Button Scarf and...well, one minute, let's first talk Button Scarf.

So, the Button Scarf went like this:

1. Wait until the 11th hour (in my mind) so that you have to race to the fabric store with only a half hour to choose a coordinating fabric before the early game comes on
   
2. Go to the fabric store without the sweater so that you have to coordinate fabrics on the fly which is always a terrible idea
3. Look desperately for wide wale corduroy and fail because you are shopping in a quilting store which obviously doesn't carry apparel fabric
4. Decide on a sweet Asian-y/organic-y fabric in orange because you like the fabric so much and WANT IT NOW
5. Riffle randomly through the button bin with a four year old and let her pick out buttons that she thinks look good with your fabric
6. Check out, race home, watch two football games and eat a mountain of nachos with Bubba. Forget all about the fabric, project, etc
7. Wake up the next morning and begin making your way toward the inevitable doom that awaits any project that requires the use of the buttonhole feature on the sewing machine
8. End up hand-sewing the buttonhole to avoid Total Devastation
9. Take a lot of photos to prove that, despite Buttonholing Gone Awry, you are still pleased with the outcome AND are now inspired to take the $20 sweater to its fullest potential (keep reading)

So, in a nutshell, I'm considering my Button Scarf a success, if only because I like the fabrics and the buttons individually (if not necessarily all sewn together), the scarf fits and is warm and PLUS I recycled an old forgotten piece of clothing instead of giving up, throwing it in with the Goodwill and buying new fabric.

Sweet ass. Button Scarf can be hot if not necessarily made with Faux Fur. I like this.

So, what else was I talking about back when I said, "My $20 sweater of yore was going to become a Button Scarf and..." and , "now inspired to take the $20 sweater to its fullest potential...?"

I was talking about my new endeavour, people: Anatomy of a Sweater.


I decided that I'm going to go all native on this bit of $20 felted wool that used to be in the shape of a boring Old Navy v-neck sweater by using all of its parts and pieces in Projects to Be Named.

Like, I'm going to not just slay a sweater for the sake of its best meaty parts, OH NO. I'm going to go on to use every last hoof and tooth in other projects in order to produce many wonderful things from only one original thing and also produce ZERO waste.

Then I'll come on here and show you what I made so that maybe when you're cleaning out your closet next and come across a heinous old woolen thing and think to yourself, "I should really *do* something with this wool...", you'll have some ideas. Or maybe you'll see my projects and think, "Whatever. I could make cooler things from Old Navy sweaters. She is a retard." and then you will and I will like that a lot because your ideas are usually better than mine anyway.

I feel like this is rad.

So, for Project 1 in Anatomy of a Sweater, I present to you the Button Scarf. And soon, I hope to present to you at least three other projects and no evidence of waste of any variety. I am about to make a six+ year-old Old Navy sweater as cool as I can possibly imagine.

Prepare yourself accordingly.

Extreme Sabbath Mode vs The Pork Chop

I set out to make pork chops the other night on Bubba's request but without the proper know-how seeing as I grew up in a house that didn't have pork chops because we were trying to be not-all-the-way-bad Jews. We didn't follow most of the rules, but I think frying up the uncleanest of all beasts in chop form on the stove was too much even for my progressive folks.

Meanwhile, my future husband was growing up in the midwest, far away from the pork fearful and in a household very much in support of Pork Chop Night, of which I have heard much legend. Legends about "cornflake crust", applesauce on the side OR NOT and the merits of pan-frying vs oven-baking. And just for the record, I never heard the words, "Shake and Bake" mentioned in reference to the Almighty Pork Chop until I said it out loud and had to suffer Bubba's evilest evil eye. Scary.

No Shake and Bake. Got it.

Thankfully the All Knowing Cook's Illustrated provided a fabulous and authoritative recipe by which one, even one of Jew-y background, can construct Ultracrunchy Baked Pork Chops.

Bubba was very excited to revisit Pork Chop Night and I was very afraid of this untamed cut of meat.

Why is it so pale? What's the story with this big bone? How do you know when it's done when it's buried under all that seasoning? What about that big word that stands for the scary germ that lives in pork? Trich-ta-somethin-somethin...?

All very scary and bizarre. Plus I was afraid that it would taste like ass and I would have to chew and smile and be all, "Yes, my love, this is very good and worthy of your childhood memories", when I might really just want to hack it up in the trash and pretend it all didn't happen. But I went forward, somewhat bravely, into the dark scary forest of the pork unknown armed with my issue of CI and some chops that Bubba brought home from the store, all despite my Jewy inner fear of The Pork.

And then my oven rebelled by falling apart.

Yes. It fell apart. In the truest and most sincere sense of the term. I went to open the oven to begin the pork baking and upon grasping its one big handle, SNAP, it ripped off clean in my hand.

The handle. It broke the fuck off. Just right there for all the world to see.

And then the stainless steel sprung forward allowing the heat proof glass to come sliding onto my kitchen floor.

SNAP! SPROING! SHING! SLAM!

"What the hell was that??"

"Hehehe hahahaha heeeeeeeee hahaaaa"

"Baby? Are you ok?"

"Um....hehehe hahaha hehe"

"What are you holding? What was that crashing sound?"

"Oh. You know. My BRAND NEW OVEN just fell totally apart and apparently I think it is pretty damn funny."

And it kinda was. In the sense that I was standing in my kitchen, holding the big handle for the oven, which was in no way connected to the oven itself, while standing over a very large piece of glass watching the stainless steel available-at-an-extra-charge sproing to and fro, having been freed of its enclosure. Holding in my other hand, a rimmed and racked baking sheet with two perfectly coated pork chops ready for baking.

It was at this moment I realized the actual purpose of the Sabbath setting.

"Sabbath Mode: Beyond the automatic shut-off feature of this particular model, this ingenious and militant option keeps your oven free of any filthy unkosher items. When set, the oven will go to all lengths to maintain the sanctity of its observant interior, resorting to self-destruction if any attempt is made to force unclean flesh into its depths with the intent of cooking or otherwise."

As it turns out, my oven is something of a self-righteous Jew. Who knew this?

Anyway, my oven fell totally apart and I'm blaming it on my made-up oven feature for which I previously had no explanation (come on, did YOU know what Sabbath mode was for? See, no.) and the shoddy craftsmanship of some appliance manufacturer which will remain unnamed. Sadly, most of my appliances are from this particular manufacturer, so everything in my kitchen is getting the wary eye at this point, especially those with inexplicable features like Pots and Pans Cycle, Filtered Water Dispenser and Permanent Press. WHO KNOWS WHAT THIS ALL MEANS, REALLY?

It could be anything.

However, I think you might be happy to know that despite the Extreme Sabbath Mode setting under which my oven was previously operating and the fact that the door handle BROKE THE HELL OFF, I still managed to bring to life the ever-cherished Pork Chop Night in our humble yet combative home.


Bubba assured me that they were indeed quite good and definitely didn't seem like they'd been made under duress or anything, so I felt better knowing that at least his dining dream was coming true.

Meanwhile I stewed about the time I was going to have to spend escorting the retards from that service center which will remain unnamed until I have had my issue satisfactorily resolved around my kitchen so that they could fix these things that should have never broken, and certainly not so soon after I purchased them. Ahem.

Good news - I didn't have to spit anything out in the trash.

Pork Chop Night 1 - Oven 0.

Sometimes I'm considerate of others and I'll thank you not to act so surprised.

I don't know what finally made me pull the trigger and randomly start pulling fabric out from the closet, but The Project Which Has Languished in My Mind managed to become a mail organizing reality this weekend.

See, our office is not so big. Even with all the recent reorganizing, shopping, throwing away and sneaking out to the garage (what?) of all the not-nailed-down stuff. Even then there's not a LOT of room in there. Even less so on our desk. I sorta downsized our desk to a shallower version of our previous double-wide model in the remaking of the office and that left us with a limited amount of open space to, say, put down a pen without it being immediately swept onto the floor.

Yes, the desk does hold two computers (must have both PC and Mac) and the obligatory molding cup of coffee, but with the Evil Mail Sorting Thingee taking up most of the remainder of space, our desk sort of ceased being a Desk and started being The Big Pile of Crap Where You Can't Set Down a Pen or Even Maybe Another Cup of Coffee.

This was an obvious issue for Bubba, seeing as he must simultaneously compute and caffeinate without compromise lest the universe burst forth from its balanced state and go hurtling through the Great Unknown on a path toward certain hell, but for me, I am indifferent. Mostly because my home computing is limited to doing our finances and checking on the poisonous status of foraged nuts and also because I am not a coffee gal and am happy to drink my tea from the couch where I have a nice blurry view of CNN.com from over the shoulder of my beloved.

So, you can see why finding an alternative means for sorting mail, therefore freeing space on the desktop for more cups of old coffee, became something of a mild obsession for me. I mean, how can I sit and sip tea from my comfy spot on the couch while The Mister is left to surf the headlines without nary a spot to rest his morning brew?

See, sometimes I think about other people.

So with the cherished remains of my favorite fabric, the pile of sturdy and partially slain canvas and a pair of very groovy and huge wooden knitting needles, I set out to organize our mail in a vertical fashion so as to leave as much acreage on the desktop as possible. You know, for the coffees.

It was a random act of sewing, as I was actually on my way to refill my cup for another round of couch-sitting with tea, but happened to glance at Bubba and see him staring down the towering Evil Mail Sorting Thingee and decided it was time. I must fix this. Before the doom becomes imminent and I'm being forced out the front door with bus fare, Rocket and the Evil Mail Sorting Thingee wedged in my ass.

After a few short (long) minutes of disagreeing with my machine about which way the spool winds and how a broken needle wedged in the presser foot does not make for a smooth stitch, I made good time. I actually managed to rip this baby off before NFL Sunday Countdown was over and the playoffs began. Not that I was all hopped up to watch Eli disgrace the Manning name (I know, they won, but still - he's no you-know-who) or anything, but I do like my uninterrupted time to stare at the NFL in HD and having one project under my belt when I make my way to the couch for the hobby known as All Day Sitting is just a lovely bonus.

As I was making my way to the couch for the aforementioned Distance Sitting, I was blessed with some of the most beautiful words a Bubba can say.

Specifically, "You're done? Well, don't you want me to come appreciate your hard work? Let's go see!"

Followed by Bubba scampering (in a manly way) off to the office to see what had become of the Evil Mail Sorting Thingee and to behold the glory of a square foot of open space on the desk, onto which he immediately situated a big cup of soon to be old coffee.

Just kidding. He didn't. But I am sure he has plans for it.

Either way, he made the obligatory Ooh and Ahh noises and adequately explored the capacity of his allocated pocket on the new Hanging Mail Sorter, so I was satisfied.

Maybe now I'll sit at the desk with my tea from time to time. You know, since there's room and all.

Finny and Donk's Sewing Adventure

Dear Donk and Sewalongers,

I'm back from my *gallivanting* as someone so kindly put it, and ready to deal the dish on the 2008 sewalong so that y'all can get your machines back out and put your energies to good use.

I have, by the way, appreciated your gentle coaxing to get the hell off my dead ass and come up with The New Book for 2008 OH MY GOD WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM HELLO, so thank you. Sometimes I need a swift kick to get moving.

Business, let's get down to business...

First things first, to close off 2007, go check out Donk's post for the Nov/Dec Dealer's Choice winner. I'm very impressed with you all for not snagging the simplest patterns from the book and going easy. Because that is really what I usually do, and frankly it makes me a little ashamed of myself when I see how ambitious and fabulous you all are.

Second thing, with regard to InStitches, Amy Butler and all of your awesomeness - Craftzine's blog (which, by the way, if you haven't looked through an issue of CRAFT: magazine yet - go now, it's tits) is hosting an Amy Butler Sew Inspired contest for those who have created a bag inspired by Amy and her designs. You can read all about it here, but we thought it would be some great extra mileage for those of you who made really hot bags (hello, quilted patchwork bag heroes) and want to flaunt them and perhaps win some more Amy stuff. We know you are all very talented and we want you to win. So go check it out, yes? You have till 2/29.

Okokok, for 2008...

After careful consideration via a very long email string (thank you Gmail for stacking my emails so neatly, wuv you) the Donk and I chose Simple Gifts to Stitch for our 2008 sew along. (Check comments for a deal through Buy.com - thanks Katie!)

There were a few considerations here, specifically a lot of you all voted for it (yay democracy), we thought a good portion of the patterns looked promising and then there also wasn't a hundred Flickr pools already dedicated to fawning over it, unlike most of the other choices. Plus, it doesn't involved quite as much quilting and patchworking as *some other* books, which I enjoy.

You recall my bouts with these techniques and their horrifying results. I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to go back into the water with the patchwork measuring yet. I'm just not.

SO - we hope you're excited to venture into uncharted territory with this book and don't get all "what about the book *I* voted for??" and what not because we think this book looks pretty rad. And, hey, if it turns out to suck ass, we should be the ones to decide right here. And then you can all yell at me and I can be punished with a hundred quilting projects. Seems fair, right?

As for the first project, we're going to put a two month time limit on this one so you have time to curse my name and then go get the book (I hope, yes?) and then do the project. So, the deadline will be 2/28 and the project is the Button Scarf. And, as always, be as creative or as MUST DO IT EXACTLY AS THE PATTERN SAYS (me) as you like and then go post your photos to our new 2008 Flickr pool.

Oh, and you'll notice that "Finny and Donk's Sewing Adventure" keeps cropping up, and that is with good reason because we are renaming our sewalong for longevity. As we realized, InStitches ~Along wasn't going to work what with our non-InStitches book and all, so we've given ourselves a new name and face (that thing at the top of the post, yes) so that maybe MAYBE we can keep this up for a while in the event that 2008 goes well and y'all don't hate us for picking The Unknown Book and still want to keep going in *gasp* 2009 or something.

Anyhoo, just so you know, the Finny in Finny and Donk's Sewing Adventure is me and Donk is Kelli and the adventure will come when we're trying to pin-tuck linen for a table runner (hint) and we run out of swears. Ok, so maybe this only happens to me, but still *adventurous*.

If you're interested, we also have a new badge to declare our Sewing Adventureness (refer to top of post), and you're welcome to grab it and display it on your blogs for all to see. If you want a higher resolution copy for tattooing purposes, just shoot me an email and I'll be happy to oblige.

One last piece of business - the Rad Surprise that I boasted about last year that was supposed to be [RIGHT HERE] is a bit delayed, so forgive me please. As soon as its radness is present, I will put it up and let you know and then sit back in awe (hopefully).

Ok, phew, I think that's it. I have a burning desire to summarize everything with a bulleted list, but I'm trying to surpres my urges to do anal retentive things that make other people go, "OMG, really? I think she's crazy.", so I'm not going to. I will have to rely on my strategic bolding techniques and hope that y'all are careful readers.

Looking forward to another year of inventing proprietary sewing swears with all of you.

xo
Finny

Home, and still full

I'll just put this out there: I ate a lot in Italy.

There, I said it.

Wile not as lewd and unsavory as being a sexual tourist, being a food tourist might have its own seedy side. Especially when all the drooling and staring is taken into consideration. And the gluttony. And the greed. OK, so Rome might be one of the seven deadly sins, I don't know.

But I did enjoy myself and surprisingly, managed to wear my previously too tight Sevens and Joe's throughout the trip. Even while eating pizza every day and wine with every meal. And then some gelato. And what about digestivi? And do I want to go out for hot chocolate?

It's a minefield of delicious things, people. And I don't handle temptation well. Especially Temptation con Mozzarella di Bufula.

But now I'm home and dealing with that stretched out stomach thing that you get after Thanksgiving. Where you get hungrier than usual because you stuffed yourself on Thanksgiving and now your stomach has, like, 12 extra acres to fill. I'm currently dealing with a pizza sized empty spot that won't shuddup or be tamed by a handful of Triscuits.

Boo.

Anyway, allow me to briefly list some of the beauties you see above, if only for my own S&M pleasure because now I can't have them for a really long time and I just ate some regrettable macaroni and cheese and WOE is me...

From left:

• Housemade egg noodles with locally grown organic mushrooms and truffle sauce. OMG.
• Again, OMG.
• Some wine from Abruzzo. That's where we were at the time.
• This was called chocolate flan but it did not resemble the boogeriness of flan at all.
  
• Genziana. This digestivi tasted like a horses ass, but was able to cure the feeling that my stomach was splitting in two.
• The crust of my Pizza Imperiale. Yes. That is a stuffed crust. Yes. It was truly awesome. If this pizza were a man, I might have an illicit affair with it.
• Pecorino and salumi. Locally made and vurrrry good.
• Pecorino. It was a staple of our diet for New Year's.
• Smoked salmon on toast. Jews, Italians - we have so much in common.
• Prosciutto. A sea of it.
  
• Wine.
• Homemade fresh sausage. Really. The best sausage I've ever had. Roasted on an open fire. Um, yes, please.
• Arrostacini: roasted lamb skewers. While not a big lamb fan, I managed to put down half a dozen of these skewers. That means they were out of this world. Plus, there were a hundred of them for 11 people.
  
• Genziana and Torrone. Booze and chocolate, that is an excellent combo.
• Torrone: Like the inside of a candy bar, but bigger. RAD.
• New Year's lentils with sausage. For you lentil people, adding sausage makes this much better. If you are a vegetarian, I am sorry because your life sucks.
• Misto frito: fried olives, zucchini flowers and suppli.
  
• Pizza misto funghi. I could have handled more mushrooms, but I'll take it.
  
• Garden pizza. No idea what was on this. It looked good.
• The gelato course. I think we had a chili chocolate, pistachio, nutella and something else.
  

I'm probably still in a food coma right now. I feel sleepy.

Buone Feste a Tutti

Hi again from Rome, peeps.

I was going to post the final entries (and a few from our eventful and semi-hammered Christmas Eve walk, hello), but alas, there wasn't a lot of time since I left most of my packing for, like, an hour before my flight.

Apparently I'm turning over a bizarre new leaf?

Anyway, I'm back in Rome visiting the aforementioned BFF and will be here eating my weight in mozzarella, funghi, nutella, espresso and prosciutto (probably not all at once) for the next week or so, meaning the posts will be slim until I'm back in town with photos.

At which point, I'll put them all, Fugly lights and ham porn, up here for you to see. Then we'll talk about the insane crash diet I'll be going on to get back in my Sevens.

Yay!

Ciao.

The Holiday Newsletter

I can't deny a request (see comments on previous post) for "my take" on something from one of my best friends in the whole wide world, so I am going to go ahead and fulfill that request right here but *only because* this one of my best friends asked me so nicely and not at all because I absolutely LIVE to give my opinion on all things.

Ahem.

So, the Holiday Newsletter...

My take on these things is this: I like them.

Yes, this is true. I like your long ass, rambling summaries on all the yearly goings-on that you recount without ever spellchecking or re-reading for context.

I find them to be an excellent low-committal vehicle for me to find out exactly what's going on with you and your life. And when we finally do reconnect after a really long time, we can avoid the awkward moment when I look at you in horror from the passenger seat of your new minivan and ask you when, exactly, you began picking up hitchhikers and you tell me that, oh, those are my three kids that I had since we saw each other last and I feel like a big jerk.

The Holiday Newsletter is also a good time to also check in on where the hell you've moved in the last year so that I can readdress the holiday card (or perhaps just make a mental note) I sent you that got shipped back to me "addressee unknown" or whatever.

I have to say though, there is something that I have a hard time understanding with these things, not ever having put one together myself, and that is how they end up looking in no way like they belong with their accompanying card.

Because the cards are usually glorious. Glossy, professionally produced photo collage jobs which look as though they've been torn directly from a Vanity Fair spread. Some of the cards are simply incredible and must have cost thousands to produce and mail. And sometimes, they come in those really fancypants envelopes with the gold lining? Supah fance.

Meanwhile, the Holiday Newsletters never follow this fancy detail in any way.

As though you were stuffing your envelopes for holiday mailing and suddenly thought, "Well, *I* know this is the entire extended family during our commandeering of the teacup ride at Disneyland, and that Uncle Horace chunked his pancake breakfast in the shrubs as soon as I snapped the shot, but I only know that because *I* was there. How will *they* know when *they* see this card?? They won't! I MUST TELL THEM."

Then you sneak downstairs and snatch some purple construction paper from the kids' little short-legged crafting table, jam it in the printer and begin banging away the mind-numbing minutia of your Disneyland trip *just in case* those looking at the photos can't derive all the not important details on their own. THEY MUST KNOW ABOUT THE CHUNKED PANCAKES. Also make sure to tell them that Dylan is finally making solid poops and Daisy is having her first dance recital where she'll be dressed like a car tire and dancing to the "Wheels on the Bus".

Then this letter gets hastily printed, folded in whatever way makes it fit in the envelope and addressed with a Burnt Sienna crayon.

When it finally reaches my greedy eyes (see, I like them) I stop short wondering why one would go to such trouble and cost to produce a lovely, customized and perfectly executed greeting card just to wad up a piece of purple construction paper between the folds. Personally, I'd rather leave something to the imagination with regard to the photos than ruin the integrity of the perfectly executed card. But that is me. I am childfree and not a frequenter of Disney, so perhaps I don't have any news so pressing that I feel compelled to capture it on purple construction paper to the detriment of my fabulous holiday card.

My only last "take" on the Holiday Newsletter is this, they go against the concept of my greeting card display thingee since they aren't particularly decorative (see purple construction paper reference) and are a very different size than the cards with which they arrive and for which my display thingee is designed. Logistically, Holiday Newsletters aren't my favorite. But I do like to read them (see entire post prior to this paragraph) and I refuse to separate them from their appropriately sized card counterparts because that would compromise my carefully crafted personal bubble of anal-retentiveness. So, they're up there. I don't include them in my yearly recycling of gift cards because, well, they're not pretty or useful in that way, but they're up there for all to see.

Something to keep in mind when you shun the spellchecker or misspell your children's names. I'm just saying. People might see your newsletter sticking out from behind your card and think mean things about you is all.

But keep them coming. I like to know that you're all out there making sure the earth is being repopulated, Disneyland still has people willing to pay $20 for a churro and that you're visiting places I really want to go but haven't yet (Greece, Australia). They give me a chance to feel like we're still friends because I know what you're up to and also to be jealous that you look real skinny or glad about my same old haircut because you look like Beavis with your weird new "stylish" doo.

Maybe one year I'll go beyond the "We had lots of fun in 200X and hope you have a great 200X!" or whatever and venture into the inner sanctum of the Holiday Newsletter, but not yet. For now, I'm perfectly satisfied to sum up our year with a string of verbs so totally out of context that you're challenged to either figure it out on your own or just do whatever it is you do with holiday cards - not paying a second moment's attention to our yearly word jumble.

Either way, our card will show up with generally acceptable dimensions, spell-checked for accuracy and reviewed for content. It will not include any construction paper, confetti (damn you to hell for this) or crayon marks. I will not have the dog or cat "stamp" the envelope with their paw.

And then we'll all have Merry Happy Holidays That We Celebrate and have a great New Year.