A Weekend at the Cabin

In honor of Wordless Wednesday (a day late)...

Circle of Life

I was in 4-H for 10 years. For 10 years, we sold red geraniums as a fundraiser. To be supportive, my family would often buy flats of these flowers, and I remember planting them at our house, at Grandfather's house, at strangers' houses when they weren't home, etc.

As a result, I refuse to plant geraniums. It isn't that I don't recognize their merit as a flower--I do. They can withstand hot midwestern summers. They're easy to deadhead and bloom profusely all summer. Their weird smell only bothers you if you get very close to them.

I'm just tired of them.

Last night, my niece phoned me. "Aunt Bonnie, would you like to buy some geraniums?"

She's started 4-H.

Now I'm in a quandary. No, I would not like to buy geraniums. Yes, I would like to support my niece.

Pause.

"If I buy geraniums, would you plant them at Grandfather's?"

Today I sent a check for half a flat.

Recipe #13: Steamed Artichoke

I steamed an artichoke last night, which I am absolutely counting as a new recipe. My resolution, my rules.

My silicone steamer insert has very short, stubby legs. I kept pouring more water out of my pan because the water was seeping over the edge of the steamer insert. I'm not sure how you make sure you have enough water that the pan doesn't boil dry and yet don't have the vegetable sitting in water. Ah, cooking, you are a mystery.

The leftover water in the pan was green. Is that supposed to happen?

I had made a half-hearted attempt at finding a dip to use that wasn't as unhealthy as just melting butter, but I had no luck. I melted some I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Light (really, does it even count as butter?) and dipped the leaves into that.

Sadly, I liked the taste of butter much more than I liked the taste of artichoke. I had artichoke leaves with fancy mushroom stuff (Oyster Mushroom Rockefeller) on them at the veggie class. I really liked that, and it felt like there was a lot more edible flesh from the artichoke leaves. Did I do something wrong, or was that just an illusion brought on by the stuff piled on the leaves? It seemed like a lot of time and heat expended for not very much veggie.

Any insight anyone has into artichokes would be greatly appreciated. I'm trying to grow some in the garden this year.

Recipe #12: Santa Fe Salad with Chili Lime Dressing

Neither Andrew nor I are big into traditional foods. Even when I ate meat, we never ever ever wanted to cook a brisket. Or a roast (is that the same as a brisket?). Or a ham. Or a turkey. Or any meat in a crock pot. Or carrots and potatoes cooked together until they're all indiscriminate mush.


We much prefer food to be spicy.*


For Easter, we baked FiberOne blueberry muffins with applesauce instead of oil, which were a hit. We also made this salad. We substituted a can of drained diced tomatoes with green chiles instead of fresh tomatoes--it's still too early for tomatoes that don't taste like cardboard in my opinion. We also used three romaine hearts and extra peppers, and made Mexican-flavored edamame (recipe #6) and threw that in for some protein and additional flavor.**


For the dressing, we used light sour cream instead of mayo because Andrew has a weird and adamant aversion to any mayo products. It was really delicious. We looked at the bottles of dressing we had in the refrigerator, and every single one had expired. We don't eat enough salad, apparently, and we certainly don't clean out our fridge often enough. I'm trying to decide if I should buy salad dressing or just commit to eating salad with salsa or a dressing like this. This certainly tastes better, but bottles are so darn convenient....


We had enough left over to send some home with a couple people, eat leftovers one night, and have a couple of servings for me to eat for lunch this week. I consider that an acceptable amount of leftovers since we had to use a cake carrier to transport the giant salad.

This is the 12th new recipe I've cooked this year, which makes me nearly halfway to my goal of 25.

*Or pizza. Let's be honest. Mmmm, pizza.

**And because I'm a whore for edamame. Again with the honesty.

Back to Knitting

Now that Easter is over, I'm back to posts about things like knitting and cooking. (Did I just hear the Internets breathe a sigh of relief?) We made a new salad for Easter, and it was received surprisingly well considering it contained a) edamame and b) no ham. I'll share more about that tomorrow. Today we talk about knitting.

I finished a pair of socks on Sunday.

They're prettier than this, but this is what you get when you decide to photograph blue socks at night. Here's a closeup of the heel which should give you a better idea.

Saguaro socks (Ravelry link)

Knitpicks Stroll Kettle Dyed Yarn in Jay

I got a little bit bored with these, but I think that was more a problem with the plain blue color than with the pattern. I have found that I enjoy knitting socks more than I enjoy wearing them. I think I'm going to have to start framing them and using them as art. Although I love socks like my Olympic Socks, there is a limit to what they can be worn with--even by someone who has no interest in fashion. I'm hopeful that these will get a lot of wear owing to their plain color.

Last night I started a new pair. These are the January socks from the 2010 sock club. This year, the sock club comes with two patterns so you can pick the one you like the best. I liked both the January patterns, so I attempted to knit one of them with the blue yarn you saw above. The yarn decided it didn't want to be knitted into that pattern*, so I gave up and did the Saguaro pattern. I started the second January pattern last night.

I knew I was in trouble when the first instruction was, "Using your chosen toe-up CO (cast on) method, CO 22 sts..." Crap. I don't have a chosen toe-up cast on. I don't even like to knit socks toe-up. I've done a pair that way--just so I could say I'd tried it--but I find increasing much fiddlier than decreasing, so I usually go cuff-down.

I consulted my friend, the Internets, and found a cast-on that had Magic in the title. Deciding that was probably my best bet, that's what I used.

I cast on carefully, struggled for a few rows, and realized I had giant holes.

Frog.

I cast on again, trying to be optimistic about how much practice I was getting with this new cast-on technique, and started again. This one went pretty well, but much, much later I realized there were two separate sets of instructions--one for the top of the toe and one for the bottom. I cursed quite a bit, and then...

Frog.

I didn't frog all the way back this time, but I ripped out a bunch of rows. I started again, knit happily, and then realized I was following the instructions for size small instead of size medium.

At this point I flipped off my knitting.

Frog.

Andrew was sitting on the couch with me, and he turned to me and gently said, "Bonnie, you have to stop. You can't expect to do this on OPENING DAY."

He was right. We were watching our beloved Reds get trounced upon by The Team Who Hangs Around With Albert Pujols.**

So, this is the result of hours and hours of knitting last night:

Someday, perhaps, it will be a sock.

Happy baseball season, everyone!

*Splitty yarn + Bobbles = Crazy Town

**That man is a delight to watch play, even as he's destroying the confidence of your pitcher.

Teachings of Jesus

Fourth in a series of Holy Week posts...

I decided to do these Holy Week posts because of one sentence I heard last week in church: "All of Jesus's life was leading up to this week."

Well, in a chronological sense, I suppose that's true. All of my life was leading up to this week. About 12:30 all my life will have been leading up to lunch. Later this afternoon all my life will have been leading up to a jog.

I don't think that's what was meant. It would have been much easier for me if it was. A bit mundane, perhaps, but easier.

I find the emphasis on Jesus's last days very troubling. To me, it's as if we said that Ghandhi or Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. were only important because of the way they died. By emphasizing Jesus's death so much, I think we miss out on what we can learn from his life.

And that's a lot.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus taught us to look at the world differently--to concern ourselves not with those in power but rather with those who were in need. He emphasized Torah and tikkun olam and worked to revitalize religion. He taught us not to be afraid of saying what we believe is right, even if there are scary consequences.

I believe in that.

Pesach and the Crucifixion

Post three in my Easter series.

Why was Jesus crucified? Let's set aside the idea that he had to be in order to fulfill some prophecy. Rome wasn't all that concerned with prophecy.

What Rome was concerned with was maintaining control over those it had conquered. It was dominating in the best of times, but Rome became especially nervous and tyrannical around Pesach.*

Why?

Pesach is the celebration and remembrance of the Exodus. The Exodus was a time when the Hebrew people rose up against their foreign oppressors and kicked some Egyptian ass. Pesach had special significance in a time when they were being ruled over by another foreign people, this time the Romans.

Rome understood that during Pesach, everyone was easily whipped up into a frenzy. They were ready for a revolution. Anyone who looked like he might be a potential leader of said revolution had to be dealt with decisively.

Then Jesus enters Jerusalem to a thrilled crowd shouting his name.

And Rome takes action.

And that's why Easter should never be celebrated without remembering Pesach.

Chag Sameach, everybody.

*Pesach is the Hebrew transliteration of Passover.