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.

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?