Does the Dove Seem Strangely Indifferent?

Look at this love that dare not speak its name.

Delectable

I must take you on a little side-trip to a realm called The Passionfruit. If you are really hungry right now and would like to drool over some gorgeous food photos, are in need of some cheering, or in search of a nice recipe for dinner, this is your destination. Check out the Sweet Ricotta Pillows. I've been daydreaming about them all day. You will be too.

Fierce Little Jew

Our neighborhood in Brooklyn was hit last night with spray-painted black swastikas and anti-semitic shite--on our synagogues, some cars and buildings, and right on the sidewalk by our house. E and I passed it on our way to school, and when I explained to her what it was, she immediately returned to it and stomped on it, hard. What a girl. All her tough stubborn independent ways are also emblematic of her bravery and spirit. If her first impulse is to stomp it out, G-d bless her.

And Back to Knitting

I've gotten my matchup for the International Scarf Exchange 5. The lady I'm knitting for is in the states, not from abroad, but no matter. Luckily, this time I managed not to reveal myself to my pal in the label line of my email. The person who is knitting FOR me seems just lovely. These exchanges could not be more fun. Maybe I'll try to get one started myself. How does one do it? I wonder.

I've chosen to do a beaded scarf from Interweave Press "Scarf Style"--it's the style of bead-knitting I loved so much from MaryElla (check it out--it's really delicate and pretty, not so difficult except for all gazillions of microscopic beads that must be strung beforehand). It's a simple scarf, but the bead inserts are fab. I'm using blue cotton/silk blend and chartreuse matte beads. Although, I ordered the yarn online, and it's so difficult to tell just how the color really is. We shall see.

Finally, for anyone who loves vintage patterns, do visit this ebay store I've discovered, Dakota Prairie Treasures. It's at least fun to browse through.

Still realming on the Potions Master. My forays into online Severus Worship humiliatingly illuminate my very worst tendencies to fourteen-year-old obsessive mooning over some inaccessible someone. In this case, legions of ladies (and gents too I'm sure) moon en masse, right alongside me, over someone who doesn't even exist. And while I mostly embrace my nerd (at this point, is she even inner?) the internet really forces "public" confrontation with what is supposed to be, essentially, solitary pursuit. My blogging admissions are the perfect example.

Too Much Severus

My sissy has informed me that it is now too much Snape. That I've got a potions master fixation better kept to myself. Well, I can't guarantee anything, but for now it's back to Ripple, my older obsession. I revisited the No End in Sight Ripple-Along and was once again charmed by its sweetness and industry. I was glad to find that I still love Ripple. It's always a pleasant companion.

A Scent of the Darkest Kind

For those of your who love most unusual perfume, check out Mandragore by Annick Goutal. I have always loved her ephemeral scents, since my friend introduced me to Eau d'Hadrien. Now said friend recently gifted me with a little silver phial of this potions-inspired decidedly non-floral, and having used it up, I've ordered more in its haunting purple and gold bottle. Check it out--you won't smell yourself coming and going on the streets of wherever you live! Unless you live among very sophisticated and well-subsidized goths, that is...

Now, I'm back to the more humdrum world of police policy and procedure. I'm taking notes on a book called "Community Policing: Rhetoric or Reality?" if that gives you any indication. Well, a girl's gotta do her dissertation, doesn't she?

Use Your Words

I worked "saturnine" and "Rubicon" into a conversation with my friend over coffee this morning. Yes, I did. Now I challenge you to work "susurrus," "grimoire," and "oi" into a coffee chat with YOUR friend. Yes, the chat will be momentarily stilted and awkward, but you will be the smarter for this exercise, and so will your friend.

It's Too Early

A's alarm woke the whole household at 5:30 a.m. Too early. Now we're up, but A has decided to take the day off in the interests of sanity.

Meanwhile, my dissertation casts me reproachful looks from the little workstation in the corner. I have become completely obsessed with Severus Snape. My Gods, I'm a married woman! And Snape, I might add, does not actually exist. The depths of my obsession reveals the proportional depths of my dissertation avoidance. I keep telling myself, Snape would tell you to finish your dissertation. If he existed. That's it, I'm going to make myself a bracelet--WWSS?--haha. Or should it be WWSD? Well, Snape would finish his dissertation. So either way, it's all good.

Or is it?

I told you it was too early.

Dear Severus

If anyone out there is as slavishly devoted to Snape as I am, check out this bit of fan fic. I've only just emerged from the romantic vortex this moment...at a certain point, it's true, I began to skim for the Snape subplot, but it was well worth it.. We LOOOOOOVE him, right?

Old School

The flowers I bought today at the corner market:



Today I spent time (way too much time) musing over how repugnant I find the world of NYC private school--the jockeying for three-hour playdates, the squash lessons, the nannies, oy vey. Not my scene at all. You have to fight the good fight to keep it down-to-earth for your family. We're only in the second week of school and already I feel the pressure. On the bright side, E's school will be the very best possible place for her. It's where I and sissy went, so I know. Of course, it's changed somewhat since my day, when everyone let their freak flag fly in unbelievable ways. People are still flying their flags, but the milieu has certainly been transformed from utopian bohemia to rapacious nouveau riche. But the school itself is still vibrant, I think. She has gym and art and music and poetry classes, and two lovely teachers. And my biggest task, besides my own school work, is to try not to micromanage every detail. Unfortunately, that runs counter to my very nature.

I've finished one of the baby projects, but won't post the picture for now. Also started ANOTHER granny 'ghan in shades of greens and yellows. It's Lion Brand Vanna's Choice (yes, that's Vanna White's own line), which, although with much potential for mockery, is actually a very nice yarn with lots of pretty, muted colors. Also quite cheap. The 'ghan is blazing along. My goal is to have a towering stack of bright and inviting blankets by midwinter. Maybe then I'll give some of them away. But we're a family that definitely likes to snooze on the couch, so the assortment comes in handy. Is there anything better than a couch snooze?

First Day of School

Today was the first day of school and I ate in the cafeteria for the first time. It was delicious. This time it was a Chinese meal: delicious rice that was sort of hard but sort of soft and tasted like there was something else in it but you couldn't see it. There was also a celery soup with carrot in it. The carrot looked more like pickles, but we knew it was carrot. The person who had it said "Dill pickles in my soup!" and the person next to him said "It might be cucumbers." And then another person said "Wait a minute, it's celery." "You're right," said the soup owner.

And then I met a new friend and I can't remember his name, something like M. And there was such a thing as "Bag of Me" which was a bag with three things that represent you. I brought in three fantasy things, because I love fantasy. And then the boy, named M, told me that he loved Pokemon too because I had brought in a Pokemon coin. So we had a little conversation about things like Pokemon.

I have a boy teacher named J, and everybody has desks with art supplies all their own.

(guest blogger Hedgehog)

Squirtle to Wartortle to Blastoise

It's the last official day of our summer, and I'm quite moody, worrying about getting back to housework and dissertation and real life in Brooklyn, and the melancholy of E starting first grade (my melancholy, I mean)--she's a very intense little person, but I've gotten used to, and love, having her around all day. Selfish, I guess. She needs to be back amongst the six-year-olds...

Pokemon fever has hit our little brown camp in the Adirondacks. It all began with a Salvation Army find--Bubbe purchased an enormous collection of the cards for ten dollars. Now E and Sissy have become obsessed. E returns to Brooklyn armed with an ever-increasing collection...

And here are the projects for my stepdad's b-day. I just can't recommend these dishclothes enough. You can get the pattern in "Mason-Dixon Knitting" (an inspiring book--these ladies have a great color sense), or on the Peaches and Creme cotton yarn wrapper. They are so much fun to make, work better than a sponge on dishes, and wash and dry nicely. Try making some--it's almost as addictive as rippling!

Punk Rock Outfit

I've been so not posting here. The summer is closing rapidly, and the Adirondacks are alternating between freezing and boiling. Some days we huddle by the faux stove space heater, and some days grouchily schvitz. E has begun to have some pre-first grade anxiety dreams--in one, she arrived at school wearing a "punk rock outfit," but she and I didn't notice till it was too late and by then all the other students had seen her before she could go home and change. I assured her (in waking life, that is) that punk rock outfits are perfectly acceptable at her new school, one of the myriad reasons why we are sending her there. Still, the rustlings of anxiety are never stilled by sense and reason, and besides, I do believe they're perfectly normal...

I gave my step dad his birthday presents yesterday--he is old school and doesn't believe in sponges. Neither plastic. Anyway, I made him what is now traditional--socks--and some new knitted disclothes with cucumber dish soap. I will post some pics tomorrow of said works, but for now here is my geriatric old guy:



And here are some more of E's earrings:



Punk rock on!