Not all like shit. Yet.

Now, while I have successfully knit a sweater, as evidenced by that labor for Bubba, I'm still vuuuuurrrry skeptical about my ability to execute a sweater by way of needles and yarn.

Not that I'm executing it any other way, like by way of lunch meat or wood carving, but you know.

I'm a self-skeptic. Especially when it comes to sweaters and especially more when it comes to a sweater that is not a product of an EXTREMELY closely followed pattern, but rather an invention from my own pea brain.

And we know the crazy crap that goes on in my pea brain. It's not like I shouldn't be all skeptical because, yikes.

I bet something crazy was in my head at this moment. It might have involved wood carving.

But since I was able to pull off the Leaf Tshirt back at my 500th post without so much as a whine, I let myself use it as a basis for a perfect-for-me sweater invention. Or, rather, just an iteration done my moi which is much like iterations done by others on Ravelry but because I'm a tard and those people plainly are not, I call it an invention.

Gives it the weight I feel it deserves. Since I really shouldn't be inventing sweater patterns given my history with horseshit knitting.

HOWEVER, I'm currently taking liberties with this pattern in the following ways:

• I'm giving it long sleeves rather than capped ones
• I'm taking out the leaf pattern
• I'm making it longer
• I'm narrowing the waistline

I think that's it.

See, the first one came together so quickly and easily that I started thinking, "Hey. If this thing just had long sleeves I'd have myself, here, a fully legit sweater. For me. Imagine how I could redeem myself in my own eyes and believe again that I could knit sweater-like things. It could be great. I think I'll go have a cocktail to celebrate." And so on.

For, like, eight months apparently, I thought about this.

Because a few weeks ago an entry for, "Buy sweater yarn" appeared on my To Do list as if from nowhere.

OK, it came from my pen as I scribbled in my itty notebook while sitting in traffic, but still, it appeared there and when it did, I realized I'd been thinking about knitting this sweater for a long time since I had a color in mind and all of those changes I listed up there and I was already envisioning the outfit I'd wear with it and so on.

It was very specific, is what I'm saying, which is how I know my pea brain was thinking about it even if the rest of me was blissfully unawares.

And now, I've gotten past the hard part (the increases, which really aren't hard at all) and just have to keep going, tucking in the waist here and adding on some sleeves there before VOILA a sweater appears on my body.

Like magic? Perhaps.

The real magic is something else though - I learned A Thing.

Oh yes, the learning goes on!

Like, last time, when I was knitting that sweater for Bubba and learned The Thing called, Math, and then The Thing called, Labeling, and it made my world of knitting all new and fresh again? Yeah, like that.

Well, this The Thing is called, I Knit Loosely.

Yeah, it doesn't sound impressive like Math does, but I promise you, it's no less crucial. (Yes, I just said math was crucial. And I'll ask you not to tell my father.)

The Thing called, I Knit Loosely, is important to understand because all along I've been just using the recommended needle size for yarn and in patterns and it never quite does the trick. My knitting comes out too loose.

Like, I feel like it should be a tighter weave. And if I ever EVER knit a fucking gauge swatch, I would have realized a super way long time ago that OH I KNIT LOOSELY and should always take my needle size down at least one notch.

And, well, I should probably always knit a gauge swatch, but I'm not ready to admit that to myself because I'm pretty sure I've declared my foregoing of gauge swatches and I can't be making a big old liar out of myself just right here in print even though I think I just did.

Whoopsies!

Anyway, through the knitting of a gauge swatch (because of my paranoia in fucking up a sweater, I gave in and made one), I realized that WHOA I totally need to ratchet down my needle size to get the gauge right.

And using The New Thing I Learned: I Knit Loosely, I will be able to start out with a better guess in needle sizes at the outset of any gauge swatch knitting so that I don't have to, say, knit the swatch with size 7 needles and then see hugeness, then switch to 6s and see still hugeness until finally getting down to proper 5s and be, like, oh that's it right there.

Do you see what I'm saying here? You see. It's a time saver. And a screaming-my-ass-off-using-all-my-swears saver.

So, me and The Thing are going to get onto the bust part of this sweater shortly (which will HAha be the biggest part of the sweater - thanks for making your own quiet jokes here) and maybe in some reasonable amount of time a sweater will appear on my body as though by magic.

Or by Math.

WOULDN'T THAT BE THE WORST? IF MATH WERE MAGIC? Ugh. Let's never speak of this again.

Running update: Stinky

Right after I took this photo, a huge bolt of lightning came down in the center of that hillside. Wowza.
Also, I took this photo with my phone, so shuddup.

Friday night we had the first audible thunderstorm (with lightning - super excellent) I can recall having in the last four years. Now, that may be because I was awake, actively dreading my long run and contemplating my last minute decision to change venues, or because it was just really a big 'un.

According to Friends of Facebook, it was because it was just really a big 'un.

I mean, that's what all that "HOLY THUNDER!" is referring to in everyone's statuses, I assume, and not someone's outing to the Thunder Down Under show in Vegas.

I'm assuming, but I don't know for sure, and you know who you are, Ms Holy Thunder, Batman.

And while I was tempted to use the thunder and lightning and brief rain (OH SWEET RAIN, I HAVE SURPRISINGLY MISSED YOU) as an excuse to bow out of my new adventurous and get-me-the-hell-away-from-my-boring-street-route training schedule, I forged ahead and got up at 6am on Saturday to drive my ass back up the highway so that I could run in the stinkiest place on earth.

Friends, let me tell you where you don't want to be when a recent thunderstorm has rendered the surroundings humid, steamy, warm-ish and damp: the baylands.

Because do you know what lives in baylands? Geese. And ducks. And other birds and creatures that drop stinky dumps via air and water. Because the mix of steamy marshes, stagnant water and freshly dumped goose crap is not a pleasant or run-improving combo.

No, I would have preferred my minivan dodging route on the streets of San Jose to the Hey! Is that a freshly-coiled dump under my nose? experience of running all those miles through the bayland nature preserve.

Even though it looked way prettier than suburban San Jose. And even though San Jose can smell equally stinky thanks to people who cultivate cesspools in their front yards or don't pick up after their dogs.

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, DUMP-LEAVERS - GET SOME BLUE BAGS, ALREADY.

Whatever, I'll stop talking about the stink of the baylands now and instead tell you that, while I had planned to run 12 miles this Saturday, per my Supah Technical Training Schedule, I did not.

Nope. I ran 8.

Because my plan was to go out into the preserve until my handy-dandy GPS told me I'd run six miles and then turn around and head back, thus accumulating 12 solid miles.

Well, what with the stinkiness and the sketch weather and the surprise humidity, I found myself giving in at mile four and turning back, thus dooming myself to irretrievable failure at this year's Rock N Roll.

I mean, OBVIOUSLY, now that I have diverged slightly from the Supah Technical Guaranteed To Make Me Supah Fast training schedule which I devised in my own pea brain with no technical running know-how whatsoever, I'm doomed to destroy my half marathon goals so certainly that I almost shouldn't run the race at all. Because it's going to be a hot terrible mess anyway.

*Almost*

I did go home and double check that I was, indeed, registered for this race, since I had a fleeting moment of terror when I couldn't recall seeing a confirmation email and then Oh lord what am I doing running in a cloud of bird shit if I'm not even signed up for the fucking race, but it turned out that I am all confirmed and set to run in a few weeks.

Oh phew.

Oh, and if you were hoping for a Garmin update and a look at those fancy ass graphs and charts I talked all big about last week - continue holding your breath because LO I could not convince my PC and my watch and the USB stick and the Garmin website to communicate effectively and so all my data stays locked up in the watch where I will pretend it's not taunting me.

Garmin - if you're listening - I'm not impressed. I'll keep trying to make this work - because I'm smarter than this watch, here - but you've got some serious work to do in the cloud computing department. And the wireless department. And the developing of low-disk-space-requiring software department.

In all though, the run wasn't a total waste of time. I did get in eight miles. And I did take a little detour off-road which was enjoyable in a maybe I'll try trail running after this infernal half marathon way and I did get to watch lightning strike the mountains beyond the baylands and birds take flight off the water and the sun rise in breaks between the storm clouds when I was taking off my Camelbak at the car at the end of my run I realized a duck had pooped on me.

YAY FOR THAT.

I mean, maybe that's why it was so stinky - the poop was ON ME rather than near me and so it somehow super-amplified the stench.

Why am I still talking about shit?

Sorry.

Anyway.

The rest of my training is pretty simple now. I will do my 3 mile tempo runs this week and next, 12 miles on Saturday on my normal goose-shit-free route where I will hopefully not get creamed by a minivan and then next week I'll begin The Taper beginning with a Saturday run of no more than 6 miles and pace runs of no more than 2 miles during the week. And then, of course, I will not run Saturday, 10/3 because yay the race is on Sunday, 10/4.

After which I will slip gloriously into Post-Race Break week when I will inevitably sign myself up for another race even though the thought of it right now makes me nauseous.

I'm super positive today!

Sorry. I'll work on that for next time when I tell you all about the sweater I'm knitting myself. I think I can work up some positive thoughts there since so far it doesn't look at all like shit.

Running update: At my own expense

So, I know I said there'd be a running update this week, but there's not.

Not really, anyway.

I mean, after my technological FAIL what with the downloading of software onto multiple computers and having to get my watch, the USB stick, an updated laptop AND a miracle in one place at one time, I'll be lucky to have a meaningful update by this time next week BUT...

I'm willing to throw myself under the bus for your entertainment meanwhile. Feel free to thank me liberally.

And by entertainment, I mean you get to see how ridic I look in this new beloved Garmin of mine.

Behold the chicken wrists.

Yes, so not only is this watch trying to boss me around, but it's almost in the "I'm bigger than you" category, making it even harder for me to defend myself against its advances.

So, like, if this thing gets any untoward ideas, I'm pretty screwed.

Awkward? Compelling? Indecent? A potential for lopsided arm and shoulder muscles? You decide.

Good thing it has all those charming beeps and mysterious rabbit hole menus with which to distract my pea brain.

And just to give you the summary of my current running situ, until I can provide actual proof in numbers and graphs (OH YES THERE ARE GRAPHS) and charts (CHARTS, TOO), here's the status:

• I am set to run 12 miles tomorrow and have been dreading it since last week when I finished my 11 miler.

• I *may* MAY take myself elsewhere for this 12 miler so that I can be distracted by the new and different surroundings rather than become lulled into a sustained state of painful boredom on my usual 12 mile route.

• I am looking so forward to the post-race break that I have to keep reminding myself to at least try to look forward to the race itself otherwise why am I putting myself through all of this, but it's a challenge. A constant nagging challenge.

• On that note, also, the thought of going out for a six mile run without my Camelbak, Luna moons, GPS watch and meticulously plotted route sounds downright luxurious.

• People - I'm fantasizing about only having to run, say, six miles. It sounds dreamy and that is wrong.
  
  
• I only downloaded one new song for this week's run which means that I better come up with something good to mull tomorrow elsewise this run is going to suck ass. Two hours of it.

And that, friends, is about as much complaining as I can do right now.

I know - I'm surprised, too.

Have good ones.

-F

The official cocktail of finnyknits

Yeah. That's right. A blog can have an official drink.

And I know so because THIS blog, MY blog, has an official drink. Thanks to Bubba who spoiled me by restocking my corner of our bar with a new brand of gin.

That's also right, friends, Bubba has a death wish.

One that goes, "I stray from my wife's Brand because the glory of discovering That New Great Brand of Gin is worth the potential phonebook beatings that may ensue as a result of my death-defying decision making."

His death wish is a little drawn-out, this is true.

The important thing, though, is that this new Brand is now MY Brand, even though I doubt I'll ever be able to find it in a bar or restaurant given that I've had trouble finding Tanqueray 10 and I've never (not even once, shame) come across diet tonic water in all my searching.

Which is an OK scenario, given that we tend to observe in-house happy hours often enough and this will make it all special and stuff. And then, when we do venture out to drink with the three dimensional people, I will lower my standards briefly and take the Sapphire and regular tonic available at the usual drinking establishments with a limited amount of snobby bitching.

LIMITED, but not non-existent. I am a human girl after all.

So, by now you must be wondering (aren't you? come on.) what this new Brand might be. And then, what the hell makes it so special as to warrant Finny's stamp of approval. Even if that stamp is crooked and soaked in booze.

Well, I'll tell you. It's Hendrick's.

The bottle is very old-timey.

And it's specialness is four-fold.

First off, it tastes like a dream. A velvety smooth dream in which I float along on rose petals with cucumber slices on my eyelids like some kind of drunken fruit.

OK, no - it's not really like that. That was my attempt at working in some of the nuances of the label - but really, it's good. It's very smooth - that's no lie - and it does taste vaguely and refreshingly of cucumber and warmly of rose.

Like when I let the sip sit on the back of my tongue and warm to my body temperature, I can taste the rose and I like it.

So - all that is one of the folds. It tastes good: smooth and refreshing without a crass bite to it but with some interesting nuances which I enjoy.

The next fold involves pushing aside the tried and true lime wedge. Ho ho! Big man - telling me not to squeeze lime into my G&T!

Well, I'll be honest, I tried my first G&T WITH the lime, because that's how I make my drink (ice>lime>gin>tonic), and found it to be good.

Then I tried it with the cucumber slice (ice>gin>tonic>cucumber slice) and it was, well, surprisingly different and pretty heavenly.

It's good in there.

It's weird how the cucumber really does add something to the drink. Not just because it's all huge and floating there staring you in the eye as you suspiciously sip this new beverage, but because the cool flavor of the cuke mingles with the gin and makes some booze magic.

Mind you, I used lemon cucumbers, so that might have swayed me a bit.

And then - to take a bite of that cucumber slice? Well, that tears it - it's fucking great. Like a cocktail you chew. And not like these ridiculous jelly things that I abhor. The crispness of the cucumber with the saturated freshness of the gin and tonic water and the chill of the ice is extravagant.

And to get into the other folds, well, there's the fact that this gin and I see eye to eye on our place in the world.

Why, that's strange - *I* am ALSO not for everyone! Coincidence? Probably.

And the fact that I can go to my garden and pick a fresh cocktail garnish rather than having to settle for, say, the lemons on the counter or HORRORS go to the store and buy a lime, is pretty great.

There's also the matter of the super great neato bottle that looks like it was dusted off after a long stint on a tall shelf in some ancient apothecary and the cork top rather than the metal screw cap that comes standard on most models of booze, and whose tinny chime has always held a happy place in my heart which will now be replaced with the the cheerful 'pop' of the cork sliding out of this bottle's spout.

And I'm sure there are more folds into which I could delve if I hadn't gone on a mild binge enjoying the unusual responsibly and all that. And I consider it to be responsible enjoyment if the neighbors don't flee the dinner table because I've flung my skirt over my head, I remember the night's events and I don't wake up with a hangover.

So you know, I wasn't even wearing a skirt. But still, behavior was tempered.

Based on those qualifications, I enjoyed this, My Official Drink, as responsibly as can be imagined.

And so you know, the official drink of finnyknits is now, OFFICIALLY: Hendrick's and Diet Tonic with a slice of Lemon Cucumber.

I will allow slight variations based on seasonality and variety of cucumber and the availability of the illusive diet tonic. I will NOT, however, allow ridicule regarding the Diet nature of my tonic. What? Do you want me to be a total fatty? No. You don't.

Cheers.

Corn, GPS - it's about the same.

I was going to get into some more of the, ahem, New Fun Things with my Garmin, but, alas, I just realized that I need to also download some more software to this machine (a PC, versus my Mac at home) and then download some crap from the USB stick and then sync it with my watch before I could share the more riveting of the details, so the watch update will have to wait.

Until I can summon the patience to get all my machines on the same page with the stick and the watch and the stars and call up a few miracles, etc.

Don't be discouraged or put off by the Garmin yet, though - I've run across some decent features and seen some fancy ass shit that I think you'll like, too. If you have the patience for all this. Or if you're like me and don't like to be bossed around by technology and forge ahead if only for the sole purpose of Principle and Not Letting the Machines Win, etc.

For now though, let's talk garden.

Specifically, CORN.

Dead corn.

As in, it's gone.

Gone corn.

That's right, friends, I took down the corn over the long weekend and WHOA did it take more time than I expected.

See, when it comes to the garden, I usually allot way more time than is necessary to do simple tasks like planting seeds or harvesting tomatoes. I think this is because I love these tasks and in my mind I want to spend the whole live long day out there doing it because I know the results will be lovely and enjoyable and I want to do all I can to make these garden-type things come true, faster.

Well, I had the same vision for the corn: that I'd probably set aside way too much time to do something that'd take me all of ten minutes and then I'd be left going what do I do with all my free time NOW which did not happen.

No, not only did it take me approximately 10x longer to pull the corn, turn the bed and cover it until the first full moon of October (I'll get to this), but it also wasn't nearly as enjoyable as, say, planting the corn seed had been. Or, to be honest, any other garden task save for The Science which always takes just as long and is as mind-numbing as I expect it to be.

I'm not good with math, folks, and doing it under the blazing sun doesn't make it more fun.

No. Pulling the corn and going through this process was sweaty, dirty, monotonous work that basically sealed the deal on maybe I'll grow another variety of corn next year.

It was, all told, something of a pain in my ass, and then it filled the whole yard waste bin so that if I'd had any designs on, say, mowing the lawn, pruning the tomatoes (and lordie do they need it) or taking down any other crops, I'd have had to move to the Pile Method, which is fine except it means a lot of hauling that is no fun to do when I'm already hot and sweaty and have that ankle ring of dirt that comes from standing in a heap of downed corn stalks without wearing proper socks.

So, to sum it up, taking down the corn, a single and benign looking entry on my To-Do list, turned out to be a boring and bleh process in the grand scheme of gardening.

HOWEVER - I did get to take some pride in how my little formerly crushed by a mysterious animal corn seedlings had grown into big, strong and could-be-made-into-a-sukkah-if-I-were-a-good-and-real-Jew plants which produced enough corn for us to have more than one Corn Feast.

We could have been a sturdy structure.

Even though the longer they stayed on the plants, the starchier and less edible they became.

So small and starchy. Cute.

At least, though, the little cobs I found while Taking Down were cute enough to warrant an, "Aw!" from Bubba who was busy preparing himself for a crawl under our house.

Ew.

I definitely had a better deal with the corn chore. At least I wouldn't be blowing basement dirt out of my nose all weekend. CAN YOU SAY GROSS? GOOD.

Not that he looks gross, mind you.

Because I find him to be quite adorable in his coveralls.

Before he goes into the basement.

So you know, the corn is now "down" and in the process of "downing" all the corn, I also removed every leaf from every stalk to use as mulch for the bed while it rests and awaits its turning and planting with fava beans.

Hi, tedious.

Whether using the corn's own foliage to mulch the bed is advisable, I'm not sure, but it's hard for me to let any viable composting matter go into the yard waste bin without at least one round as mulch.

Although I was totally imagining the possible results I'd get if I'd dared to stop what I was doing (HA! FAT CHANCE!) to Google "mulch with corn foliage" because I *just knew* it'd return something like, "Your garden will be rendered inert for the rest of its days." or something similarly dreadful. Thankfully, I just ran that search and it returned nothing of use. Mostly how to mulch corn plants, nothing about the corn's foliage.

So we're safe! Relief!

Notice I didn't mention any additional searches. Yes, that is because I don't want to be pushing my luck. You understand.

Now, getting back to that "plant fava beans at the first full moon of October" thing...

My neighbor, of Tomato Tunnel fame, planted fava beans last year as she does every year - at the first full moon of October, and last year I joined the fava ranks and planted some myself to rehab one of my nitrogen-dry beds - but I planted later in the year at a random time that coincided with some phase of the moon totally unknown to me.

Well, hers grew about twice as tall as mine.

SADNESS.

I mean, mine weren't total slouches, but if you were to, say, turn 180 degrees and peer through the gate, you'd have seen her favas just all held upright and proud with stakes and string because WHOA they were hugely tall.

Meanwhile, mine were just fine standing upright on their own because, oh well, they were only so tall.

Well, not this year, folks.

With the corn down and the bed sitting idle under its mulch of the same origin, I am patiently awaiting the arrival of October's first full moon (10/4) to plant my new heirloom favas which I hope will grow tall and happy and make me feel justified in following moon phase planting even though when I told Bubba that's what I was doing he rolled his eyes in a serious way.

For the record though, I know other experienced and well-regarded gardeners who plant by the moon phases, so I don't feel too eye-rolly, but still, Bubba doesn't believe in this method yet and so I'm prepared to test it out and await general consensus on its relative ridiculousness.

We'll see.

Meanwhile though, I've let the artichokes go to flower because they look groovy and also because I'm lazy and our crisper is full from the farm share.

Neato.

And if you're one to follow trackers, you might be interested to know that I'm up to 188+ lbs of produce which comes out to a rough value of $710.25 harvested from the garden this year.

Because I'm nice, I'll do the math and tell you the value of that is under $.50/lb, which is cheeeeeeeeeeeap.

We're not done yet, though, as the tomatoes, beans and WHOOPSY cucumbers are still producing. Even if I don't realize they have ripe fruit until I go to pick beans and find cucumbers climbing up the inside of the tepee.

Or whatever.

Weekend's exploits

Hey Donk,

I was having a hard time deciding what all to talk about today, given that we just had the lovely three days off to Labor and you know how much you can do in three free days, but I've decided posting about the Craft: along challenges for this month is most impressive (and wait until you see the other stuff, if I do say so myself, etc) because WOW it's only 9/8 and I've already done two of the three projects.

I know, I'm pretty impressed with myself. Also, I'm very modest!

Anyway, amidst all the running (update this week), gardening (update this week), drinking (oh yes, there's an update for this, too - this week) - there was Craft:ing.

Specifically, buckle making and tote-bag transforming.

The weather during my Saturday run informed me that, Alert! Fall thinks it's coming! and so I must immediately begin transforming my work self from Summer to Fall.

Thankfully, this just takes updating my Supah Profesh Laptop Tote Bag from black summer birdies and orange waves to orange fall birdies and blue leaves. And when I say "tote bag" I mean one of those canvas tote bags with which one would normally shop for groceries not one of those leather type tote bags with which one would normally shop for fanciness.

I have a work bag of some fanciness, courtesy of Bubba, but that comes out on special occasions only, like when I have to meet with people from the outside world, and not everyday when I meet with only people from my team who know that my fanciness is limited to mostly ridiculous numbers of shoes, most of which are flipflops.

So, my feet get fanciness, but my laptop? It gets could-also-be-used-for-the-farm share canvas tote bags.

To me, this makes sense. And to me, this is also easy to update for seasons, if you're prone to that kind of behavior. Which I am.

In riffling through the trunk of my car (aka The Big Tote Bag) I came away with a suitable bag for transforming. It's a thank you gift from a wildlife org to which I've donated in the past and, while I like the soaring eagle print on the front, it was the only bag in my rather vast collection that had all the trappings of a decent laptop bag: sturdy handles, ample storage size, thick enough fabric to be durable without being so thick to render my sewing machine useless against its intense weave.

I have been hoarding this fabric for 6 months and now it's with me every day. I love that.

You might be wondering why I didn't just update my old birdies and waves tote bag for fall, but that would have meant sewing fabric over what was already a cute print that I'll enjoy using to pick up the farm share. So, just so you know. Not that you asked, but whateverthereyougo.

Plus, the white handles are dirty and it needs a rather aggressive spin through the washer, and so will now languish in The Big Tote Bag in the trunk awaiting its bath.

Hey, the straps are almost clean!

Meanwhile, I got to use some beloved stashed fabric that brought to my attention my obsession with the color orange.

Self-awareness in the morning. It can be a jarring occasion.

And, on a totally separate note that has nothing to do with crafting, bags or the color orange, I decided to rock my First Fall Outfit complete with my favorite green shoes, which were a gift from a dear friend who finally gave into my whining and just gave me her shoes.

Love you, KB!

After all the sewing was done (which took all of five minutes thanks to the excellent and easy instructions on Betz' site), the baking commenced.

And since I am in possession of many pounds of blackberries rather than strawberries and rhubarb (oh the days), and lemons rather than oranges and don't own individual ramekins but instead have a nice 8x8 glass baking dish - this also commenced the Bastardization of Baking.

Crispy topping was not so crispy but still vury good.

Blackberry Buckle

Adapted from Individual Strawberry Rhubarb Buckle, Katie Goodman

My changes in bold.

Ingredients

Batter:
½ c butter
½ c granulated sugar
1 egg
1¼ flour
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
½ c milk
1 Tbs vanilla

Fruit:
3 1/2 c blackberries
¼ c granulated sugar
1 tsp grated lemon zest

Topping:
¼ c butter
¼ flour
½ c brown sugar

To make
Preheat oven to 375° F.

For the batter: Beat butter at medium speed until creamy. Add sugar and egg, beating well. Combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to butter mixture alternately with milk. Mix well after each addition. Stir in vanilla. Pour into an ungreased glass 8x8 baking pan.

Please to enjoy this alternative view of zesting.

For the fruit: Combine the blackberries, sugar, and lemon zest. Stir until well mixed.

The juiciness is obscene.

For the topping: Combine the flour and sugar. Cut the butter into the mixture until crumbly. Sprinkle on top of the fruit mixture.

This seemed wrong, but in an, "if it is I don't want to be right", kind of way.

See, this looks OK.

Place atop a baking sheet to catch any drips, overflows, or splatters. Bake at 375° for 30 minutes.

Yes. That is a pool of butter. Don't be afraid.

And if you'd like to follow my version of this recipe all word-for-word and what not, but don't want to print out all my ramblings, a nice printable version lives here. Go on, I won't be offended.

Now, as far as the doggie poo bags go - that's still on the list, but after wrestling with an obstinate bobbin throughout two very simple projects (the other one is a birthday secret!), I was in no mood to continue the torture to make holders for poo bags. That will come at a later date, when the bobbin has had time to think about what it did and make amends.

For now, it has been sent to its room without dessert, and so we shared it (and some of Bubba's amazing BBQ) with our neighbors last night for an end of summer din-din of sorts.

Buckle not pictured. It was warming in the oven. Sorry to mislead you.

Hope you had a great long weekend,

Finny

Running update: In the 24s, but that's all I really know.

I mentioned that Bubba outdid himself dramatically in the birthday department this year by delivering not only a chest freezer (loving IT) and a perfect day at the beach, but also a new GPS watch for the upping of my yet-too-slow-to-be-calling-it-a-career running career.

Well, this morning's run was its debut, and while it was cool to be wearing a watch twice the width of my wrist (it's my fault - I requested this particular model knowing my chicken wrists would definitely be too freakishly small to fit it properly), complete with satisfying beeps, a multi-functioning bezel and an illusive Virtual Partner inside it's largish-small face, there were some snags.

I'm choosing to see those snags as Something I Learned By Doing Rather Than By Reading the Manual Like a Normal Human Girl rather than horrible run-ruining disasters.

I think you'll agree this is the healthiest approach.

Thing #1: There is no more beep and go.

See, in the olden days of my running life up until this morning, I would stagger out onto the porch in the wee hours of the morning, stretch my weary parts, roll the snapping out of my ankles, jam in the ear buds, reset the ol' Timex's Chrono to 00:00:00, hit the beeping button and go on my way.

Those days are no more.

This morning I went about all that and it was going fine until I got to the "reset the Chrono to 00:00:00" part. That's not a direct quote.

Yeah, this is when the watch said something unintelligible like, "Locating Satellites", and showed a progress bar moving not at all.

To which I said, out loud mind you, "Oh what the fuck."

And when it wouldn't let me just load the stopwatch prior to this alleged loading of satellites, I clicked around on that bezel until I made the watch dizzy and then somehow scrolled or beeped in the correct sequence of movements and the mythical 00:00:00 appeared.

Hallefuckinglujah.

Thinking myself something of a Knower and Sorcerer of all Technology, I beeped and went on my way. Feeling sort of like I was "getting it", which I most certainly was not.

I assumed that this time, like all the other two times I'd fucked with the watch, my pace would begin calculating and recalculating beneath the running chrono and the mileage would start compiling and by the time I got to my first sprint at minute 5, I'd be all up to date on what my starting pace was like and, hey!, I might know things like how far I can run in five minutes' time.

Hey, nothing.

Somehow I'd convinced the watch to begin its stopwatch prior to the mystical loading of satellites, so the pace and distance from the GPS didn't start tracking until I'd surpassed my first sprint, and so when I finally saw it running, it had my pace at a Supah Speedy 7:35.

People, I'll be the first one to tell you that I don't run a 7:35 mile. I just do not.

What I do do, however, is sprint like my anus is on fire during that first sprint at minute 5, so the loading of the satellites and my Minute of Sprinting glory managed to coincide nicely and allow me to believe, albeit briefly, that I'd improved magically during vacation despite the fact that I hadn't run a step in over a week.

Miracle that Maui Gold Pineapple, I tell you what.

Anyway, What I Learned By Doing here - let the satellites load unless you want your pace and distance all jacked up.

Thing #2: Lock the bezel.

This thing has a bezel that you use to scroll around through menus and choose things and make the light come on and what not. Basically, there's all these features that they probably couldn't make work through the systematic entry from, like, the normal four buttons on a watch, so they built in this bezel that you touch and rub and to which you whisper sweet nothings so that it'll produce your Virtual Partner, GPS location, the answer to Life, The Universe and Everything, etc. (42)

The problem is that if you even think about touching it, it will believe it has been touched and therefore begin destroying all the information it has just compiled.

For me this means that it will erase your pace and distance and restart the chrono.

Thankfully I didn't commit this act of technology terror until I'd completed my run and gone to take the watch off - first only looking at the time (Yay! Low 24s!) before I turned my wrist over to unshackle the band and heard the tell-tale BEEP of the bezel committing hari kari.

When I flipped my wrist back, the pace and distance where goners.

DAMNIT.

I mean, the distance isn't such a big deal. 3 miles is 3 miles. But the pace would have been nice to know. Even though the first five minutes wasn't computed due to the Locating of Certain Satellites and even though it might have held bad news (I'd like to be in the 9s because, you know, I aim high).

Next time though - and forevermore - I will hit the two buttons together to lock the bezel.

No more self-destructing data.

Thing #3: There's a Virtual Partner program.

Well, OK, that's all I know. It's in there. I've seen the picture on the box of the two little running people images running all next to each other with their paces displayed below and you have to, like, keep up with your VP or else you start to crouch down in unbelievable pain.

Or so goes the image.

Anyway, that's kinda all I know about it so far, because I was too afraid to press the buttons while I ran for obvious reasons, but I promise to figure out more of these things before too long so that I can come here and share some less than helpful Things I Learned for the time when you decide that requesting a technological device for which you don't have the brain capacity to comprehend for your birthday is an excellent idea.

I knew you'd be grateful.

Craft: along : September

Dear Donk,

I think I promised someone that there'd be something new and different amongst this month's projects, so I hope I don't disappoint. I ended up going back on a project I originally wanted to do because, well, I couldn't picture doing it anymore.

I'm just that fickle sometimes and since it's all about me, I couldn't be putting the project out there knowing that I, myself, had no interest in it anymore. Make sense?

Just don't hate me for being absurd sometimes - that's all I ask.

Anyway - to get back on track, let's go to our August winner, Ms. askercado, who created these lovely green patchworked placemats with some impressive stitchery skill to which I will aspire.

The straight lines. The perfect stitchery. It's all just too much.

Seriously, friend, WTF? That's hot. I don't even want to think about what any patchworked placemats I made would look like. Which is why I baked cookies. *Sigh* But this is about YOU.

You and your sweet ass placemats and WOO your sweet ass prize!

So, missy, please send me your full name and address to finnyknits AT gmail DOT com and when Gmail is done being haunted (it no sendy right now - sadness), I will get your prize together and ship it off to you. Congrats!

Now, for the pseudo new and different projects for this month...

(Don't forget to post your project to the pool by 9/30 so that maybe you get picked as the winner. That's what we all want, right? To have our greatness confirmed by way of link love and prizes? Indeed.)

For the stitchers, we have two choices:

1. The always useful and soon to be my fall/winter laptop conveyance device: The Covered Canvas Tote.

The stash is quaking in its boots right now because it knows I'm coming for it. Also, my stash wears boots.

2. The always useful and soon to be Jada's fall/winter poop bag conveyance device: The Doggie Poop Bag Pouch.

This is not Jada. This is Jada.

And for the bakers, there's but one project. Because when berries are in season, one really only needs a single project: The Berry Buckle.

In case you couldn't guess, I will be making these with blackberries. You feel free to do the same OR DIFFERENT. It's about you now.

And that, friends, is all I have up my sleeve right now. I mean, I'm wearing a tank top so technically don't *have* sleeves, so I'm thinking this is a pretty good show. For a sleeveless gal.

Wow. I need a nap.

Ta!

Finny

I'm not even *that* tan.

Yeah, thanks for that, people who told me wow you're not even that tan! when I got back from vacation.

I mean, yes, I take the sunscreen pretty seriously and did have something of a girly hissy when my legs raised a pinkish hue after a morning of paddling despite my SPF 45 (Neutrogena - you are no match for the Pacific), but I don't really want to come home from a Hawaiian vacay to be told that it doesn't look like I've left my living room in a week.

Makes a girl feel a touch sad, you know?

Not that I am sad, mind you, because I didn't sit in my living room all week. Unless you consider this patio my living room, and based on the amount of time I spent sitting there with a stack of books and a bottomless G&T, I suppose it could be.

Anyway, Maui was grand, as you might imagine, and I won't bore you with the expected vacation recounting minutia beyond the following:

Beach

Swimming in the sea

Kayaking

Drinking

Killing coconuts

Cooking

*censored*

Riding inanimate objects during moments of questionable sobriety

Eating

Hangover at the airport

Birthday

There you have it.

Though I will expand briefly on that last point if only to show you one of the awesome birthday gifts bestowed upon me by my beloved:

What? You can't determine from this photo the birthday gift to which I refer?

Well, it's not the obviously awesome potting bench repurposed from our discarded kitchen cabinets, because that was a birthday present a few years ago.

And it's not the also awesome gardening organizer hanging over the potting bench because that was a gift from Donk for a previous holiday. (Thanks, Donk! I love it!)

And you know it's not the breaker box because, you know, that makes no sense.

HINT: It's the chest freezer.

YES!

Yes. And I'll admit that this was a pre-agreed upon item so don't get all oh my god Bubba is so busted right now for giving a gift only acceptable in the '50s because I was and am all about this thing.

This thing that will let me store every last tomato that comes off the plants that went HOG FUCKING WILD while we were out of town. And the split-half of beef we have coming from the local ranch. And the gallons (yes. gallons.) of blackberries I haul home from my parents' every time we go up there. And holiday baked goods. And and and...

Well, I've wanted a chest freezer for some time. Ever since Bubba quietly mentioned that it might be a possibility and then definitely after I visited my sister and saw hers and just knew I needed one, too.

We're like that in our family - all derivative in the ways of household appliances.

And also it's more fun to pack bags of tomatoes into a freezer during the sweaty hot months of August and September than it is to stand over, say, a giant boiling pot of water for an entire day while watching the boob sweat expand to cover my entire body.

Not that I'll stop canning - oh no, I still have plans for a pressure canner for all those peppers - but now I can bring my stress level down a notch and maybe fend of the end of season Psycho Wife Shitstorm that occurs when I realize I have exactly 1 free hour on the weekend during which I need to can many tens of pounds of tomatoes.

It is not pretty, is what I'm saying, and I'm sure our lives would be better off without it. Poor Bubba, he hides.

So - Yay for the chest freezer! And also for the other fabulous gift Bubba gave me which I'm sure I'll bitch about right here for you all to see as soon as I can figure out how to get it working.

And by it I mean this Garmin GPS watch.

I plan to take it out for a test drive during tomorrow's run, so you know, tomorrow's Craft: along post might be interrupted with my cries for help and/or my farewells as I transport myself into a parallel universe by touching the bezel in an unapproved manner.

All told though - great birthday, awesome vacation, no sunburn.