First, though, did you see the new button at the top left of this page? Now you can click on it and be taken directly to the Yarn Review page. Hubster drew it. He's so clever. I can't even draw a stick figure. I hope it makes life a little simpler for those of you who like to go over there and see what yarny goodness I've reviewed.
Speaking of yarny goodness, here are tonight's offerings.
This is by Spindle Cat Studio in "Hosta".
This is handspun (it's exquisite) by All Spun Up in "Woodland".
This is by Drooling Over Yarn in "Vintage Fall".
From the top, we have Tempted Yarns in "Fascination", Woolly Boully in "Won't Ewe Come Out Tonight (Sheri Baby), and Noro in Color No. S182 (yes, I bought a non-indie - shame on me).
Again from the top, we have Dashing Dachs in "Cornelius" and Yarn Pirate BFL in "Fog" and "Spruce".
As for yarn reviews, I'll have some for you this weekend. I've decided that the weekends are going to be my computer days - I help Anni with her Sockamania duties and do that on the weekend as well, so I might as well do the reviews then, too.
Christmas. Holy shit.
We had my mother, grandmother, daughter, and the grands over for dinner. We had ordered a leg of pork - it was actually the smallest one I've done, weighing in at 20 lbs, (I usually do ones that are closer to 25 or 30 lbs.). I got the fat scored in a diamond pattern, rubbed in olive oil heavily seasoned with Italian seasoning, garlic, onion, and other goodies, and stuck it in a slow oven in plenty of time for dinner. Just how slow that oven was would become apparent later in the day. I also got everything else prepped for cooking later that afternoon (the kitchen is finally a kitchen) and went into the front room for package opening.
That was pretty uneventful. I got a matching robe, jammies, and slippers, $100 for yarn, and a custom-made purse by an Etsy seller, cha cha (it's just too cool). Hubster got a robe which he's been living in, a couple of shirts, and a new wedding band (he got that a few weeks ago when it came in). Everyone else opened their gifts from us, and then we had time to kill before dinner. LOTS of time to kill, as it would turn out.
Since the kids were just getting over colds, my mother (who has a mortal fear of drafts, the outdoors, and air conditioning) didn't want them outside. Me, being the rebel, took Lily outside so she could see the pool. The kids were running all over the house like little wild things, my daughter sat there and didn't say shit to anybody, and my mother was yelling at everyone. Pretty typical. Then Daisy began screaming at the top of her lungs because she didn't want to put on her jammies. Mom told her that she would lock her in the closet. Grandma told Mom to shut the hell up. Mark started laughing. I went into the kitchen and eyed the airplane bottles of vodka in the freezer. Then I basted the pork and checked its' temperature. Hm.
The dial barely moved, and it had been in the oven for three hours.
Now, a leg of pork that size should take four to five hours of slow roasting. It had to get to 185 degrees. It was at 110. There was something very wrong, and it didn't take a genius to see that my oven was VERRRRRRRRY SLOOOOOOOWWWWWW. Oh no. Dinner was, once again, going to be late. Very late. Shit. That also completely threw off my timing with everything else, and since I have one oven instead of three, I didn't have the luxury of putting things in different ovens and adjusting their cooking time on the fly. Nope. I had to do it the old-fashioned way, just like I used to. That's when I began crying. I missed my old kitchen. I missed my long, wide hallways, my huge rooms, my enormous backyard. I missed my air conditioning and central heat. I just plain missed everything and it was becoming too much, what with the volume of sound in the next room, the damned pork taking forever and a day to cook, and no counter space. SIGH.
Once I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I got to work. I figured out how high I could turn up the temperature on the oven so we didn't eat at midnight (that happened one year - the oven broke and it literally took until midnight to roast the turkey), readjusted my timing, and got everything in its place. I'm a professionally trained chef, for god's sake, so I can put together a holiday dinner in a cardboard box with a can of Sterno if I have to. And so I did.
Dinner came off without any more surprises, everything was wonderful, nobody fought at the dinner table (Daisy had to be bribed to eat, but I made her sit at the table and act like a human instead of a wild jackal), we all sat around and talked after dinner, and then they left. Poor Hubster always cleans up after I cook, and he went into the kitchen to begin the task. I didn't use the china this year (mainly because I don't know which box it's in); instead, we used paper plates. Much easier to deal with - we just threw them and the plastic utensils away (I don't know which box my utensils are in, either). Now that the mess and clutter are gone, we're trying to keep the house in one piece. I hate that I have to use the dining room table as my computer table instead of having a desk, but if I put it in my studio, I'd roast to death in the summer and freeze in the winter. Even now, I'm freezing, and the heater is on. Oh well - that's what my gloves are for, I guess.
And so went Christmas. I'm so glad it's over and that we both survived. There's one more milestone to pass, and that's the anniversary of moving away. But I think we can deal with that, too. I'm tired of whining and missing things that will never come back. Time to move on to bigger and better things. The house will always have a place in my heart, but I have to let go of it or I'll drive myself crazy.
Hubster is almost done with the website for the business; as soon as it's ready, I'll put the link up so you can all preview it. Then I'll get the stock entered into it and fling open the virtual doors. Those of you who are vendors and are reading this, please e-mail me and let me know what you're sending and when so I can be ready for it. We're getting close to the wire.
Life marches on. I have nothing new to report; in fact, I'm actually tired early tonight, so I may hit the sack before the sun comes up. I have to go to the courthouse tomorrow to walk through a form, so I'll report on that the next time I blog. We're also expecting the worst storm the Bay Area has seen in two years and the highest winds in 10 years, so we've prepared for that. I had wanted to go to the courthouse today to avoid the storm, but we woke up at 3:00 p.m. That kind of put the brakes on a trip to Oakland today. No matter. We've driven in the rain before and will again. I won't melt. There is a chance, however, that we'll lose power, so if you don't see me for a few days, you know why.
Now what box are my damn tennis shoes in so I don't have to wear sandals in the rain?