Pixie Totally Rocked the ISE5!

My secret pal, Pixie, gave me such a mood lift this morning with her incredibly thoughtful and lovely package. I was just blown away by this gift. First, the scarf:



I tried and tried, but couldn't capture the subtle beauty of this thing. Instead, let me describe it: Malabrigo in "Brown Berries" colorway--soft, muted pinks and browns (some of my favorite colors). The pattern of waves is perfect for this yarn--the scarf is soft, silky, and dense. I'm wearing it right now, and it is so luxe and cozy. I've always coveted Malabrigo, and now I'm incontrovertibly in love.

With the scarf came a whole host of wonderful presents:



Will you look at this? TWO skeins of this stunning handpainted yarn, in my other favorite color, garnet. I'm already looking ahead to their transformation--into my current obsession, fingerless gloves--do you think it's okay if I keep them for myself?

Also,



such goodies. Godiva chocolate (I already ate one--I mean, immediately), chocolate Hanukkah gelt, a personable little sheep, a festive Maryland crab bottle opener ( I foresee a celebratory Pilsner in my immediate future), (not pictured) a personalized Leah candy cane and a Maryland postcard, and this wonderful delicious-smelling manicure kit for my poor cold-battered hands (how did Pixie know?).

Then, the lovely Pixie included this



for my beady little girl. E is going to freak. She loves to be included in things, and I'm touched that Pixie sent along something so perfect for her.

All of this bounty was wrapped in Hanukkah paper, and labeled with little tags. I was almost speechless at this gift from a delightful stranger, except that I'm never really speechless. But could anything, or anyone, be sweeter?

Brooklyn Sorceress

Last night was Halloween in our small-town Brooklyn. We had a last-minute emergency over E's planned viper crown; I had been crocheting a version out of gold thread, but it was judged not up to snuff (it became her staff instead). At the very last minute, A stepped in with some fimo, two blue jewels, and toothpicks, and came up with a really pretty amazing snake tiara, which passed muster:



We accomplished trick-or-treating on nearby streets, one of which is closed off every Halloween for the children. It's really quite a carnival atmosphere, and so much fun. I wish I'd gotten pictures of the revelry, but was caught up in the moment and couldn't lay hands on my camera. It would have been a blur anyway. We met up with many friends, mine and E's, and had a grand time. Needless to say, the cauldron was full by 7p.m.



Brooklyn trick-or-treating in the 1970s and '80s, my childhood era and my sissy's, always seemed much more laden with danger and menace, not from the supernatural, but from the criminal. Things were different back then in NYC. 42nd Street between 6th and 8th Avenues, "The Deuce" in police lingo, really exemplified all the seediness, the frotteurs, the high violent crime rate, the aggressive subway panhandlers, the grafitti, of the city. Sometimes now my family says that things are once again "going to the Deuce," but by and large that doesn't really seem to be the case. I think some New Yorkers may be nostalgic for that time--but it's not the crime and fear that I miss, but rather the mom-and-pop shops, the little butchers and bakers, and a viable middle class. I just don't understand why that great stuff had to go along with the neighborhood XXX theater and local flashers. Or maybe I do. It seems a terrible shame. But, unlike others, who are either delusional or didn't live here in the '70s and '80s, I'm never, ever going to romanticize the grit of yore. It just wasn't as safe here when I was little. Might I add at this point a big shout-out to the NYPD, who finally have sound policy and laws to back up their enforcement and stave off the Deuce.

All that said, E and I headed home early. The trick-or-treating mood definitely darkens as the sun goes down...once I see cop cars out and about, I'm glad to be cozy in our home. Small-town Brooklyn is, at least on Halloween, a phenomenon of the daylight hours, and NYC "tricks" will always be more than raw egg splatter and toilet papered trees.

Down from the soapbox and off to do the dishes.

The First Day of Autumn

A month late, Autumn arrived this morning. Here's how we knew it was here:



Dr. Frizzle had shored up a tremendous amount of his stuffing against the finally seasonable chill. He was buried in the middle of the mound, but poked his head up to greet us.

My Little Log Cabin

Mason-Dixon knitting is so full of inspiration for simply-worked, but gorgeous, projects. I'm adapting the knit log cabin quilt for crochet, using leftover Rowan Cotton Glace:



It seems like this is a popular idea--my latest Lion Brand catalogue features a kit for a crocheted Log Cabin. Still, you can make it up as you go along, and seemingly use whatever you have handy (within the same gauge, of course). It's sorta like Rippling in that way. And, at the end, no piecing, maybe a little pressing, and it's all set. So, I'm just merrily tripping along, trala. I'm working in single crochet, but now I think maybe half double crochet would be preferable. Anyway, it's a good While Watching SVU Project.

In other news (loosely defined) I've once again been lured by the siren song of Snape Fan Fic, of which there is an endless supply. Note to self: Leah, don't read this stuff from 1-3 a.m. when you need all your wits and faculties about you next day...


TODAY'S VOCABULARY:
batrachian--froglike
crepuscular--of, resembling, or relating to twilight
ichor--the fluid that flows like blood in the veins of the gods (from Greek mythology)

"Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory..."

I love this picture of Sgt. Pepper making a silly face. Today is my 11th wedding anniversary. And, actually, we've been together for almost 17 years, through so much, since we were both kids. When I think of our marriage, I always remember James Joyce's words:

"A wave of yet more tender joy escaped from his heart and went coursing in warm flood along his arteries. Like the tender fire of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illumined his memory. He longed to recall to her those moments, to make her forget the years of their dull existence together...for the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul or hers. Their children, his writing, her household cares had not quenched all their souls' tender fire."

I'm amazed at how well Joyce understood and wrote about marriage. Hedgehog is so dear to us, she's like my own heartbeat, but Sarge and I came first.

SeaFlower Online

Well, E's new SeaFlower earring shop is on Etsy. She was going to sell earrings on our stoop this Sunday (like the bake sales of yore), but decided that she couldn't bear to part with any earrings of which she hasn't made duplicates. So far we have a three-item shop. She has recently decided she would like to move from glass beads with silver plate earring backs to sterling silver and semi-precious stones. Good taste, that kid. She has nearly worn out her humongous Fire Mountain Gems catalogue, thumbing through it endlessly to look at amethyst and carnelian and all the more obscure stones with fantastic names...

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.