A Rovin' a- rovin'

 Turns out that while I was knitting the new sock, not expecting the roving for the gloves yet, said green roving was already delivered, on the step, where I hadn't looked.

And it's beautiful, hand dyed, variegated in color, so it should work in with the other green.  It's only one of three threads being knitted together, so it should be fine. It's lovely quality, probably easier to spin than the other.

This is an ounce, which doesn't sound like much, but look

It's quite a bit, once released from its package.

And here it is next to the original roving

As you see, not a bad match. I'll blend the two sources until the original one runs out, so as to have the least difference showing.

Handsome Son visited this afternoon, ate the last of the Indian snacks, said maybe dosa dough, very good, too. And had brownies, which constituted our Valentine celebration, along with the red napkins.

Lovely day, and here's a good thought to take away

About the roving, I wrote an appreciative note to the artisan, who wrote an equally appreciative reply. 

I like to encourage small artisans, because it's a hard way to make a living. And what they're doing is so valuable.  I hope my note was one of those small ordinary things in her day.

Happy evening everyone! Did you have small things to notice and enjoy today?

Indian food, genuine and other, Black Women's History Month, and Socks ahoy

 Last evening Gary came over to give me these

Still hot, from his neighbors on the other side. They're Indian food, and i can't remember the name, like soft fried doughnuts in shape, but very spicy. 

He tried one, decided they were more my taste,  brought them over, and I asked if he'd like a swap. Whereupon I whipped out of the freezer the container of brownies I'd saved for him until the next opportunity to give them -- I was thinking Valentine's for his grandchildren -- and he was totally happy with the exchange.

We also found that since yesterday my front hall ceiling light has died. It's an LED, can't replace the built-in bulbs, just the whole fixture. We're thinking of reverting to an old fashioned one where you can change the bulbs.

He's off Friday for the Superbowl, not that his team is in it, then a couple of weeks' moseying around Arizona and, if I know him, looking up old girlfriends! 

I'm like an honorary mom to him, so I'm not supposed to know that.. and we had a discussion of football teams, basketball teams and baseball teams. 

All I know about these sports is what I've heard from Handsome Son, so it stood me in good stead. Nice catch-up about neighbors,  dogs and other pressing news items.

Anyway he'll install a new light if I have it before he goes, otherwise it'll be a couple of weeks. Not a vital area, though, it can wait till I figure out what to do.

Since I'm waiting for the arrival of the roving to spin to get on with the current gloves, those needles are occupied, so I started a pair of socks on the smaller needles

This is that self patterning yarn. I do like doing toe-up socks, and, depending on when the roving shows up, I may send off this pair of socks plus the two finished pairs of gloves.

It's a very good feeling working with sock yarn on smaller needles, centering.

And here's a shout-out to black women for Black History Month, far too short a period, but anyway

About Indian food and Misfits, the hot deep fried thingies, if anyone knows the name please remind me, anyway they put me in the mood for spicy.

So today was a nice chicken curry over jasmine rice cooked with chopped walnuts. 

I used my homemade mix, Bill Veach's curry powder, and plenty of onions and garlic, finished with whole milk 

Enough for another dinner tomorrow. And very good too, though I didn't bother with fancy side dishes and I don't have any chutney, but never mind. It was Good Enough.

And for all the puzzlers most of whom seem to have been right on it, the nine letter word with GPL right in the middle was

GANGPLANK

Happy evening everyone, and I hope your day's been Good Enough.

Chicken, microseasons and the Land of Abeyance

So yesterday the chicken, only two pounds but a lot of meat on a little frame, did me proud.

There's a lot more meat for various plans involving chicken salad, soup, potpie (thanks to Debra). Definitely doing this again. 

Tender, very good quality. I roasted it slowly for juiciness, don't care about crisp skin since I don't eat it anyway. Basted with the butter I'd dotted about. The herbs on top are sage flowers from my sage that tried for world domination during the heatwave last summer. 

Today is marginally warmer but the icy wind kept me down to a couple of recycling and mailbox walks, not the real one I hope for this week.

I noticed I just missed the opening of the Japanese micro 72 season year.

You may remember a while back, I started a microseason log, to try to deal with the upcoming winter.

I used a book I'd made, with, appropriately,  a Japanese stab binding construction, and set up sections for each microseason.

I tapered off when the entries seemed to be too repetitive. It's in abeyance, maybe once the change of season gets under way more evidently, I'll resume it.

Also in abeyance is my Arabic study.

This is the result of the Striking Virus which did a job on my thinking ability, just fog. When I get to where it comes back, I'll be back, too. The spirit is willing but the brain is tottering.

The Land of Abeyance is an old joke dating back to a convo with an artist wondering why our artist group hadn't exhibited or even met recently. I said "I think it's in abeyance." 

Whereupon she said indignantly, straight faced, "Nobody told me they'd planned a trip! Why wasn't I invited? You  seem to know all about it!".  Really upset, total FOMO on display.

I had to explain. 

Speaking of Arabic, when I mentioned my brother Kevin recently, I searched unsuccessfully for a picture, must have given it to Handsome Son, but in this repository of special stuff, literally the only thing I inherited from my parents 

Found this, 

Left, Kev's self teaching of Russian. He must have been a teenager, since he died at 20 in the Fleet Air Arm, ww2.  I wonder if this urge to self teach, especially foreign languages with different alphabets, is in the DNA.

On the right is a bit of fern from sister Rita's wedding bouquet, from 1953.

The book itself was a standby in my house. My mother bought it on weekly payments, because she believed a house needed a dictionary. This was in the 1930s, when the older ones were all in school. She couldn't afford both a vacuum cleaner and the dictionary, so she went for the dictionary.

I think that was heroic, considering her workload with a large family and no appliances, not even a washing machine. Walking the walk.

I read this dictionary cover to cover when I was sick in bed, which probably helped develop a vocabulary out of all expectation from a little kid. My older sisters told me I was reading at three, so by six and seven I guess I was equal to at least going for it.

Anyway if we've recovered from the Great Tiebreak Debate, are you up for a puzzle?

And speaking of little kids and winter

I remember the roast chestnut man coming around in winter, roasting the chestnuts on hot coals in his vehicle thing, selling them in a wrap of paper, gosh they were hot, and so good.

Happy evening everyone, may you manage to pull your chestnuts out of the fire in good time, metaphorically and literally, big dictionary words..

Roast chicken, spinning, and yarn chicken

This is why I'm staying indoors, not even a brief round trip to the mailbox today.

Sunny, yesterday's cruel wind which kept the house cold has abated now, after felling trees, but it's not a good idea for me to be out.

Meanwhile I'm about to roast a plump little Misfits free-range chicken who had a brief life but a merry one, if the farmer is to be believed.  I literally thanked her as I seasoned and buttered.  First whole chicken I've had in decades.  Picture later when cooked with roast potatoes.

And aside from sleeping when I was sure I was knitting and listening to an audiobook, I've been spinning, knitting, and, halfway up the first glove realized that I was into yarn chicken. 

That's a knitting expression,  meaning knitting on feverishly in the hope of finishing before the yarn runs out.

No hope, as you see, with only this much matching roving left. So I tried my go-to Goats Magosh and found she was sold out, help. 

Another search through various Etsy shops in search of something approximating the color of spinning roving I need. So many sites only have roving suitable for felting or needle felting, not for spinning.

I did find something likely, and it will be here in a couple of days, with luck. I also fell prey to some beautiful sari silk reclaimed fiber for spinning, in a marvellous golden, yellow range. A present for me. Pictures when the rovings arrive. 

This afternoon I order Misfits and hope for eggs and various other items which will let me stay home. I made another batch of mix brownies, for which eggs are vital, so my supply is low. 

And there's my favorite supper of pita bread filled with egg salad. Last night's had blue cheese crumbles and kale. I freeze kale solid in a bag, then thump the bag angrily with my fist, releasing my annoyance with everything, and reducing the kale to splinters just right for mixing raw into egg salad.

So that's where we are Chez Boud, so thankful not to lose power,  fallen trees not having fallen on any power lines. I'm wearing gloves in the house though, even to knit and spin,  aged digits easily chilled. I even wore them sleeping last night and slept well. Who knew? 

Also thankful that my investment people who usually only put tax forms online making me scan and print, underwent a change of structure last year. 

This year I got actual paper tax reports in the mail. This saves my having to buy a cartridge for the printer, not in my current budget, and that's a cause of joy in itself.

I always do my own taxes, even back when they were more complex, hanged if I'll pay someone to do what I can do by keeping calm and following the instructions wherever they lead, also known as a merry dance.

One year a tax accountant friend of Handsome Partner was worried that I might be missing out on valuable deductions and persuaded me to show him the returns for his advice.

Two days later he came back and said how the heck did you do this? You found things I'd have missed. After that he didn't worry, I guess. 

The clever part about taxes isn't filling out the forms, which takes patience and calm more than anything. It's planning ahead to avoid accidentally incurring charges and missing legal  tax-abating opportunities. 

But if all you do is take a bag of receipts and pay someone at tax time hundreds of dollars to fill out forms, you're missing the most important part. 

Most of us aren't in the income levels where we need tax advisers moving money, postponing and timing income, all that. So we may as well diy. 

No criticism of people who hate it so much they gladly hire someone else to do it, none at all, different strokes, different folks. 

Keep warm or cool as the case may be where you are. Happy day everyone, may all the good stuff arrive in the mail. Keep well

And take a look at these women hand carding fleece for spinning. Look at their unlikely location, too!

Misfits box and aphantasia

Right after I posted yesterday, the Misfits box arrived, on time, complete except for the items they'd alerted me to. 

So it seems their website, which indicated not shipped, definitely not out for delivery, look for it Friday,  minutes before the email announcing its arrival, is not talking with the rest of the team. I'm guessing an issue between the newly-linked Imperfect and  Misfits online worlds. Appropriate when you think about it.

Far be it from me to complain about an on-time delivery, and here It is

The biggest butternut squash ever, and giant sweet potatoes. Enough for two pots of soup, so containers of cooked, cubed, squash and sweet potatoes are now in the fteezer, along with enough soup for the week. Some kale because no spinach at a good price. Cherries because no apples (!). I think I'll struggle through!

Last evening so tired after prepping, washing, freezing, sweeping floor, breaking down boxes for recycle, cooking, washing dishes, I just managed a cup of soup. It went down well, usual seasoning of salt, Old Bay, turmeric, nutmeg, added milk, dash of lemon juice.

I'd already done a good walk, and various other things, busy day.

While I was out walking I noticed behind s house fence, right where I walk 

Dumping started again. Loose papers out of frame, blowing about. This is close to where we had the massive problem last year, now resolved. As you see, contractors are at work

I've alerted management to insist they take away the debris when they finish. It's illegal for homeowners to put construction debris into the waste stream, so that's when dumping happens. Brendan, our manager,  promises to be on it. So we'll see. 

A lot of contractors claim debris is the homeowner's problem because they don't want to bother disposing of it in approved places to which they have trade access. 

In fact my next door neighbors rejected three contractors for their renovation before finding one who would dispose of the debris.

This kind of thing is often the difference between a nice place to live and a rundown development. Considering these townhouses are in the $400k market, they're worth caring for.

No, we paid nothing like that. We bought one of the last three houses to be sold, when the builders were desperate to finish their responsibilities for the development. So we offered a ridiculously low price, and were amazed when they said Done!

Back to now, I just came across this interesting thinking. It's about the ability to visualize. Some people have it to a marked extent, all the way to people who can't fathom what it's like.  No connection with intelligence, none, just variations in brain function. Take a look.

On being asked to visualize an apple, or any object or scene.

One is marked visualization, on a scale to 5 which is the absence of it. It's just interesting, not vital, definitely not an indicator of other abilities. Not a puzzle with a right answer! 

Happy day everyone, posting early because Misfits changed my plans for the better. Let's hope if your plans change without your agreement, it's for the better. 

And if we can't visualize the better, don't worry, let it flow over us. Let's be the pond, not the fish darting about in it.

 

Misfits miss, groundhogs, Candlemas and daffodils

Groundhog Day, and beautiful sunshine so, puffy-coated, fluffy-hatted and sunglassed, I went out to see if the local groundhogs, a family of whom live here, close enough to houses to eat any flowers unwisely planted within reach, had any comment.

No sighting. They evidently decided that unlike their Pennsylvania cousin, Punxsatawney Phil, they aren't up to forecasting weather just now.

The story is that if he sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter. Not a difficult guess to make in the first week of February in the northeastern US, and here's confirmation

from the resident concrete rabbit, who is not amused at being conscripted to play  a groundhog.

However, further along, there are signs of spring

Daffodils coming up among last year's leaves.

Back on the home front, this is happening

Glove One of Pair Three of the current package. After these are done and shipped, sounds posher than mailed, I'll do more on the daylily basket. 

One white cotton thread, one beige thread, one handspun variegated green thread. Green again, Groundhog Day has struck my knitting.

And the current puzzle is very slow going. I even had to renew the loan, because it's due back today, and as you see, nowhere near.

Three more weeks. The website says firmly, in red, that I can't renew it more than this once. I suppose they think if I can't get a 500 -piecer done in two lots of three weeks, maybe I should borrow from the kids' department. 

Plenty of flowers in this one, so, as Handsome Partner's favorite home health aide, English her third language, used to say "Me, I am not doing the complaining!"

Misfits fell down a bit this week. I always order within minutes of the window opening so as not to miss out.  But even so, three items, leeks, blueberries and hake,  can't be delivered, dangit, had plans. 

The box is also not yet shipped, now estimated tomorrow, rather than this afternoon. There may be weather issues with receiving produce, not everyone having our dry winter. We shall manage. 

Speaking of which, did you see that lovely clue from Cathy  from Melbourne, about the Haggard Hawks puzzle? It pays to read the comments.

That impossible word ending in AK?

TIEBREAK!

Happy Candlemas Day everyone! 

Candlemas, candlemas, candlemasDay Throw your candles and candlesticks away! 

Old rhyme recited by my mom every year.

And may your shadow never grow shorter -- Irish wish for a long life, meaning stay as vertical as you ever get.

White rabbits, Happy Imbolc, and St Brigid's Day, and Schubert

 All kinds of things to celebrate today.

We woke to the first snow in over 300 days

Gone in an hour, but the raised light level was a good start.

The days are stretching, the light getting stronger.  Imbolc celebrates the upcoming arrival of growth and spring flowering.

And here's Edith Holden's February entry.

And yesterday was Schubert's birthday. He didn't have many, poor duck, but what he achieved in his life of composition! 

Here's one of the great reasons to be on Twitter, a cellist with his dog,  playing Schubert's Serenade outside his cottage in Western Ireland. Happy birthday, Franz

Check out the melody on YouTube if you're not familiar with it. Or if you are.

Happy day everyone, however you celebrate. Life's a banquet!