Rick Socks Revisited

I attempted to knit Cookie A's Rick socks in the yarn I received with my May sock club shipment. I decided I didn't like the color but loved the pattern. I ripped out the socks and made the yarn into a scarf for Mom and then promptly started the socks again.

They're pretty fascinating.

Rick pattern by Cookie A. from this book, KnitPicks Kettle Dyed Essential/Stroll yarn (being discontinued) in Eggplant

I've knit a few of her patterns, and I like that she often mirrors the pattern on the left and right socks. It makes me not want to ever wear shoes when I wear these socks. It seems a shame to cover up all that pattern on the feet.

I love the spiral pattern, although it does make it difficult to get over my heel. I'm a bit worried about how they'll wear with all the holes* and the lack of stretch.

But they're beautiful, and I love them. I'm also extremely glad to be finished with them. They were very hard on my hands and wrists to knit, and the yarn was not the best choice for this pattern. The yarn is quite splitty, and this pattern has lots of ssk (slip, slip, knit), which are a pain in the ass to do with splitty yarn. I was too stubborn to rip them out again, and I think the finished product is lovely despite the splittiness.

I also had help in the photography.

"Remind me again why you're sitting on the kitchen floor?"

I have now started a surprise project for Brandy's birthday, so no pictures of that until the end of August.

*I kept trying to figure out how you write "hole" as a characteristic of these socks. Holiness obviously doesn't work. Holeyness? Hole-yness? Never mind.

Genie in a Bottle

Andrew sprayed the perimeter of the garden with the Liquid Fence this weekend.

It. Smells. Terrible.

After coming inside and washing his hands a few hundred times, Andrew asked me if I had read the ingredients on the bottle.

Putrefied egg parts.

For real. Putrefied egg parts in a bottle. No wonder it's supposed to keep the rabbits away.

Because I Persevere

Yesterday I stopped at the garden center after work with two objectives:

1. Buy herb plants.
2. Ask if there is some way to keep rabbits from treating my garden like a salad bar.

With respect to the first item: I've killed herbs in a myriad of ways. I've killed them in containers inside. I've killed them in containers outside. I've killed them from seed. I've killed them in a hydroponic planter. I figure there's only one option left--to kill them from plant in the garden. This is my chance to see if I really do have the Curse or not. I bought a hot & spicy oregano, a basil, and a coriander/cilantro. We shall see. I do not have high hopes.

With respect to the second item: You know that I planted marigolds, right? I think the rabbit has been EATING the marigolds. It's like the little bugger is just trying to add insult to injury.

I bought a spray bottle full of stuff that the person swore was earth friendly. It even said "earth friendly" on the bottle, but as it also said "family friendly," I'm slightly skeptical. "Family friendly" is a movie with no violence, nudity or moral ambiguity; it doesn't come in a spray bottle. Anyway, it's supposed to make the garden smell offensive to deer and rabbits, and they're supposed to steer clear.

I purchased this stuff after having the following conversation with Andrew:

Me: Damn. I forgot to get hair clippings yesterday.

Him: What?

Me: Hair clippings. Human hair sprinkled on your garden is supposed to make it smell like humans. It's supposed to keep rabbits away.

Him: Where are you planning to get hair clippings?

Me: Lisa. I was there getting my hair cut yesterday, and I forgot to ask her.

Beat. Beat.

Him: Don't you think that's a little creepy?

Me: Well, it's better than putting bonemeal or bloodmeal on the garden. Nobody was harmed in the making of the hair clippings.

Long silence.

Me: Maybe I'll just stop at the garden center and see if they have any suggestions.

Him: I think that's an excellent idea.

Marriage: It's about compromise and not unnecessarily creeping out your partner.

Summertime and the Living Is Exactly the Same

I don't know what the situation was of George Gershwin when he wrote the song "Summertime" for the musical Porgy and Bess, but he apparently did not have a full-time job.

Summertime, and the living is easy.

Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high.

It is summertime, and the living is exactly the same as it is in the other three seasons. We go to work. We walk the dog. We try to figure out dinner.

We took a lovely vacation in February. (Well, almost entirely lovely.) We went in February even though our tenth anniversary was in June because a) it's much less expensive to go on a cruise in February rather than June, and b) the ship is filled almost entirely with retirees, a much better option than hyper families. That was a very good decision for us.

However, now that we're in the height of summer, I find images of pools and margaritas filling my head. This is unfortunate since we don't have a pool and I've never made margaritas. I know that I'm extremely lucky to have had a lovely vacation this year. I'm lucky that we're both employed. I'm lucky that I get to hang out with people whom I love. I'm lucky that the biggest problem in my life is that I have responsibilities and can't fritter the day away watching fish jump and cotton grow.

I know this.

And still...

Recipe #24: Mexicali Chop Salad

This weekend we went to our friends' house for Mexican food, margaritas, and games. We stopped at The Tamale Place and bought a gajillion tamales with chips, salsa, guacamole, and cheese. I also made this salad to go with lunch:

This is the Mexicali Chop Salad from the July/August issue of Vegetarian Times. I can't link you to the recipe since it's the current issue, but I'm sure it will be on their website soon.

The tortilla strips were easier to make than I expected, and they added a nice crunch. The salad was pretty predictable, but the dressing was fantastic. It has lime juice, garlic, coriander, olive oil, cumin, sugar, salt, cilantro, and chives. Anything that has lime juice and cilantro is worth trying in my book, and this dressing was really lovely.

The next recipe will be Recipe #25, and that will be the official end to my 2010 resolution. I am considering what the last recipe should be and where I want to go from here.*

*Does anyone else start singing Evita when they read that? "Where do we go from here? How can I be any use to you now? Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how nothing has changed." Nobody? Okay, just me then.

In Which I Fight Back

You remember the horror I experienced earlier this week.

Today I armed myself.

Duck, you want the birdseed under my salvia?

You're going to have to work for it. See that pathetic plant in there? It was beautiful until the ducks trampled it in their attempt to get birdseed. You could argue that I shouldn't have planted it directly under the birdfeeders, but a) I was expecting it to attract butterflies and hummingbirds and that seemed like a reasonable place, and b) I'm feeling very sensitive about my recent horticultural failings and you shouldn't make it worse by being sensible.

The fencing will need some encouragement from a rubber mallet, but it was after 9:00 when I got it in and I was in danger of being killed by mosquitos. This will give the ducks a challenge, and we can hammer it in later.

In speaking with people about my rabbit problem*, I was told I had four options: chemicals, bone meal, blood meal, and marigolds. Being a hippie vegetarian, I chose the flowers.

Marigolds surround three sides of the garden now, and hopefully the back is protected by the trellis.

You want it, rabbit? Hold your nose and go for it.

*Okay, my alleged rabbit problem. I admit to not actually seeing the little bugger eat my plants. There was one sitting in my backyard when I got home from work attempting to look cute. All I could see was a big neon sign about its head that read, "Hungry."

Dear Air Conditioner,

Let me begin by saying that I am so glad you let me know that you were feeling overlooked and unneeded. I appreciate you telling me now instead of waiting until either this weekend when the heat and humidity will be back, or, even worse, waiting until the dead of winter when we need your heat pump.

I want to make sure you understand that your work is valued. Yes, we had a couple of ceiling fans installed, but that wasn't to replace you; it was to complement you. It was our desire to take a little of the strain off of your tired compressor. I know it isn't your fault that our bedroom is warm. That's the price we pay for having a second-floor bedroom. We simply didn't want you to feel badly about our discomfort, so we put in the ceiling fans upstairs.

That doesn't mean we love you any less. In fact, it should make you realize just how much we do love you.

I would like to gently remind you that there are other ways to express your feelings than simply refusing to put out cold air. You are free to use the dry erase board in the dining room, for example. Or leave us a voicemail. Or send an e-mail. We're very accessible.

Perhaps you don't realize that your chosen form of communication requires us to call out a repairman. I know he's a nice repairman. I know you enjoyed spending time with him two years ago. I remember. However, we have to pay that repairman. It is an unexpected and unwelcome expense.

This is perhaps also the proper time to remind you that Andrew and I, unlike you, have full-time jobs. We actually earn an income. While your work is valued, it costs us in terms of electricity and, now, a visit from Mr. Repairman. Your run capacitor temper tantrum cost us $239.80. There are better ways to communicate.

That isn't to say we don't appreciate you doing your job; we do.

But you can be replaced. Don't push it too hard.