Now Norma Knits

I Have a Wee Problem

Alrighty then, so I started that seed stitch scarf in that gorgeous red Cascade 220, which I LOVE, by the way. And I never ever ever (never ever say never ever) buy just one skein of Cascade 220. I never.ever.do. I almost always buy two skeins -- I don't know why. If I don't buy two skeins, I buy a sweater's worth, plus an extra. (That'd be seven, for me.)

And so I'm blithely knitting along, and I go to locate the 2nd skein. I can't find it anywhere. It now appears that I used it last year or the year before, for a Red Scarf that was color-block, sort of. I ended up not liking the way it came out -- the gauges of two of the yarns (both Cascade 220) were different enough from the third yarn that it really wasn't nice enough to send to the OFA. So it's been in my closet all this time, and I just pulled it out to send to the Salvation Army, but it hasn't gone yet. 

In the meantime, I searched Ravelry for this yarn, and I was lucky enough to find two people who have it in their stashes. I wrote to one person, who only has one skein. I figured she probably wouldn't mind selling me the one skein. She wrote me back to say that she was sympathetic to my plight but all her stuff is in storage and she'd have to try to see if she could find it. So there is still hope, but, well, I know how *I* would be if all my stuff was in storage -- no way would I be able to locate a single skein of Cascade 220. Another person has six skeins. She might not want to break up her lot, but I'm willing to buy the whole thing if she wants to help me out. I love this color enough that I'd happily knit scarves in it till the cows come home, and I'd even love to knit a sweater for myself in it. But there is no contact ability in her account. So no go there.

And here's the hilarious (well, I guess that would depend on your definition of "hilarious") part of this story: I started writing this post to ask you all if you'd check your stashes for Cascade 220, Color No. 9404, Dye Lot 5433, and before I was finished the 2nd paragraph, I thought, "Well, you dummy, why don't you rip out the red portion of that uglyish scarf and reuse the yarn."  Doh.

So. Problem sort of solved, and I was going to delete this stupid story. But then I decided that I guess this peek into the snow globe of my mind still makes for a blog entry. 

 Not blonde anymore; just slightly flaky.

Abyss

And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. 
Friedrich Nietzsche 

I'm not trying to be deep or mysterious.  I just truly don't feel the bloggy love tonight, and can't seem to write anything.  Well, unless you count that. 

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I wrote that, set the post to publish, and then took Mr. J. out for his nighttime pee.  Directly in front of the door we almost tripped over this:

A while back, people got me nervous about toads making dogs sick.  I still don't know if that is true, but I didn't want to take any chances, what with Mr. J. being so small and this guy being quite large.  I picked him up and put him in the foliage nearby, but he was not having it.   He came right back and tried to get in the door.

He was quite persistent.

He's nowhere near the shelter I built for a toad, but all summer long I've been waiting for my prince a toad to arrive, and maybe he's here.  I didn't kiss him, though, so we may never know what could have been.

Rumors Of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

You can call off the APB if you wish.  This is a late-in-the-day edition of NNK just to keep up appearances make sure I don't lose ground on that every-day habit thing. 

The last two days have been very long -- especially LAST night -- and when I got home late after a 14-hour work day that started with yet ANOTHER two-hour drive (this time on the way to work instead of home) because of an overturned cattle truck*, I just didn't have a blog post in me -- especially not after having watched the latest episode of LOST which is really living up to its name.  We are just all lost watching LOST, I do believe.  I think the writers must have taken just a few too many hallucinogenic drugs in their youth.  But whatever.

Today I had a two-hour break between the morning and the afternoon lecture sessions, and I intended to blog during that break.  But on the way to work, my BlackBerry started malfunctioning and never recovered throughout the day (and even now), and when I was at UVM, their wireless network was not working, either, so not only could I not blog -- I also could not receive or answer any emails.  Perhaps the LOST program has spilled over into OUR world.  Yeah, that's it.

And my real world is a little bit in limbo and topsy-turvy, too.  Today was my last day of medical school, and I've enjoyed it so much I feel like a fish out of water.  As it turns out, there's not too much time to worry about it, because little by little my schedule is filling up.  And there will be occasional lectures and meetings to cover for the med school into the foreseeable future, too.  A special guy for whom I could possibly knit socks (for Jon, I would knit socks!) will be coming on March 28th, and yes, I've got the gig.  Pinch me.  Honestly. 

Laurie wrote me the other day:  "Give Jon a kiss for me.  But no tongue."  Hahahahaha.  Can't stop me!  Hmmm, I wonder how big his feet are.  Get your minds OUT of the gutter.  Right now.  (Poor guy is probably going to have to hire extra security to keep me away from him now.)

So now it's late, and almost time to write my entry for TOMORROW.  My big day.  Fifth blogiversary.  I suppose I should come up with five things to blog about, five things about me, five reasons to keep on blogging, and/or maybe five really great prizes.  Thanks for the great ideas, Lucia.  YOU are my idea woman. 

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*Yes, it's fun to live in Vermont sometimes.  When I saw the truck it was already loaded onto a tow truck, and I did not see any evidence of animals, so we are going to hope it was empty when it went over. 

8:30 Bedtimes Are Unnatural

I feel at a loss of what to blog.  My whole rhythm is off.  I'm missing Sandy's daily musings.  Are you, too?  Tell her!  Tell her to get back on the stick.

I'm just plain unused to going to bed so early, and it feels WEIRD, but after a week of feeling truly like a zombie, I finally woke up yesterday morning feeling rested and more like a person.  The tennis elbow strap that I used at Cindy's suggestion worked well, and I had a successful day at work.  I'm still healing, and I'm almost a bit reticent to go back to her for more treatment today.  Yes, it is clearly helping, but man, it hurts in the process!  The undergrad semester has begun, so I'm back in organic chemistry again in addition to the med school.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to manage it all, what with the sore arms, but I seem to be doing fine. 

I still miss my Vincent.  I spent all day yesterday believing that it was the anniversary of his passing, but when I checked the blog, it was actually January 8th. 

Yesterday when out at lunch, I ran into Mike Strauss, who has been an occasional guest and commenter in the blog here.  He has an art exhibit up at Healthy Living where I very often lunch, and it looks GREAT.  I was glad for that impromptu opportunity to sit down and have lunch with the artist, have good conversation, and admire his work in that nice setting. If you like his painting of onions, you're not alone.  But another spoiled friend has finagled that painting out of him.  Rats. It was "borrowed back" by Mike for this exhibit, and I threatened to steal it.  Heh.  That's me -- a class act all the way. 

THANKS for the recommendations of more British comedies!  I had forgotten about Saving Grace, another of my absolute favorites.  I will have to rent that one again and watch it soon.  Love it. And Death At A Funeral too!  I will take your recommendations on the others that I haven't seen, too. 

Well, look at the time -- it's 8:50 -- past my bedtime! 

Gack. 

104. My Joie de Vivre Is Somewhat Compromised: Another List

1.  Taxes.  The good news is I had a good year last year.  The bad news is I had a good year last year.  The checkbook of this freelancer says, "Ouuuuuuuuch." 

2.  Life throws curve balls and life is fragile.  I can only be cryptic on this one.

3.  When one door closes, another one (or two or three) opens?  Maybe.  And again, I can only be cryptic and cliche-ish, but it could be good. Only time will tell.  I couldn't resist adding that, just to be a smartass. 

4.  I'm wondering what's the point of writing this list if I'm only going to be cryptic, trite, cliche-ish, and banal. 

5.  You're probably wondering the same thing.

6.  Since I'm on a platitudinous roll, I might as well add this:  Live and love to your fullest, as if it's your last day/hour/minute. This is not said just "because."  It is relevant.  More with the cryptic.  Sorry.

7.  It snowed and sleeted most of the day yesterday.  When it wasn't snowing and sleeting, it was hailing.  It's frickin' freezin' around here.  Things are supposed to be very different by the end of the week, though. I'll believe it when I see it.

8.  The lettuce seeds I planted last week have germinated.  So did a couple of tomatoes I planted last week.  Yay!

9.  I planted lots of tomato seeds yesterday. 

10.  I really overdid it on the buying of the seeds this year.  My eyes were bigger than my garden plot by a long shot.  I bought enough seeds for a 10-acre farm, I think.  (It's OK; they'll keep, if I'm careful with them.)

11.  However, with all the seeds I bought, somehow there are no broccoli seeds.  I know I ordered some.  Must investigate what happened there.

12.  I wanted to do my "H" entry today, and I have an idea for it, but the crappy weather has not been at all conducive to taking photographs.

13.  I used some creative energy this weekend designing some new business cards.  It was fun.  I'd like to show you, but I can't figure out how to get a copy off the site I used.

14.  I got a wonderful email from Martin this weekend. He says Mrs. Hudson novel #3 is coming along nicely.  Of course, I must be mostly secretive on this one, too.  (Are you pissed off at me yet?)  This is the one with a character that is a tribute to me. Remember I told you about this a while ago?  I love love love the way he has described that she is evolving (not entirely as he originally planned), and I can't wait to read the book. 

15.  I had a workout at the gym yesterday, but it was very low-energy.  At least I got there, I suppose.  It's been an off week for the gym all the way around.  Must try to do better this week. I think it was worry that was keeping me from digging in and working out hard.  Much of that worry has been alleviated now, so maybe I can get serious again this week.

16.  Re Gordon What's-his-name I posted yesterday, I do not watch much TV -- I do not even know if we get the Food Network -- so I have no clue about these people. I only stumbled upon that video, which I thought was entertaining, while using Stumble Upon. 

17.  If you weren't feeling down before you read this, I bet you're feeling down now.  Please take a number and form an orderly queue in the complaints line. 

18.  Gib (have you ever noticed that "Gib" sounds like her real name, "Kim," with a cold?) sent me this ad for a great new medicine from the makers of Damitol (finally the pharmaceutical companies have something that's worth something!) yesterday afternoon.  It fits in perfectly with this post, I think:

 

74. Hm.....Could Be Right, Brought To You By The Ides of March, A Sore Throat, A Wiseass Friend, And Me Fighting a Valiant Battle Against A Cold

A certain wise-ass friend thinks I'm a hypochondriac, and my dears, there is no end to the teasing.  I say that friend needs a good ass-kicking. But not in my present weakened condition. Ahhhhh----chooo! *my throat hurrrrrrrts* whine, whine. *cough*

Hypochondriasis 

<psychiatry> A mental disorder characterized by a preoccupation with bodily functions and the interpretation of normal sensations (such as heartbeats, sweating, peristaltic action and bowel movements) or minor abnormalities (such as a runny nose, minor aches and pains or slightly swollen lymph nodes) as indications of highly disturbing problems needing medical attention. 

Negative results of diagnostic evaluations and reassurance by physicians [ed by Norma: and annoying friends] only increase the patient'€™s anxious concern about her health and the patient continues to seek medical attention.  Heh-heh-heh.

It was thought by the ancients to be due to disturbed function of the organs of the upper abdomen [ed: and annoying friends].

Synonym: hypochondriacal neurosis.

Or, as Sandy and I have been known to say about the way our mothers respond to things:  I think I have a hangnail.  Perhaps I should get a CT scan, and then I definitely need to be scheduled for open heart surgery.  ("If it's not one thing, it's your mother," right?)

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In my most recent moment of hypochondriacal neurosis, I did this to fill up the blog:

What Norma Means

You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people. You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts. You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals. You are well rounded, with a complete perspective on life. You are solid and dependable. You are loyal, and people can count on you. At times, you can be a bit too serious. You tend to put too much pressure on yourself. You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something. You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense. You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun. You are confident, self assured, and capable. You are not easily intimidated. You master any and all skills easily. You don't have to work hard for what you want. You make your life out to be exactly how you want it. And you'll knock down anyone who gets in your way! You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

73. Perfect Pump

A funny thing happened on the way to my lunch date with Judy and Ruby the other day: The tank filled up, the pump stopped, I turned around, and that's what I saw. Bingo! A perfect pump, and a little blog fodder for the taking.

Seinfeld, eat your heart out.

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARGENE!!!!!

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In chiropractic news (what? aren't you all waiting on the edges of your seats for my latest chiropractic news?) I had another adjustment manipulation (I think they prefer to refer to them as "manipulations," not adjustments.  Semantics!) yesterday.  Things, as I told my chiropractor, still didn't seem quite right.  It was good, and now things seem right.  And not a moment too soon:  Today I have an all-day deposition.  I haven't had one of those (thank goodness) in a long time. I'll probably need another manipulation by the end of it.

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Have a nice Friday Margene's birthday, everyone!  Cake all around!

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Come back Sunday for a special F word edition. I think you'll like it.

Reprieve

It turns out the judge didn't want reporters to switch in the middle of the trial, so I won't have to do Thursday's court day. I swear I did not bribe him in order to get him to make that ruling.  Honest!

Now to try to keep my head above water with the rest of the work...

Oh, yes....and sleep.

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I have a few photos to share with you.

Salads of the future...

(the red mottled ones are the Red Silvia Romaine)

A tomato seed from Kristen:

*sniff* They grow up so fast...

Who says lawyers are not good for anything?  A cutting that I sneaked from a cactus in an attorney's office several years ago is now doing this:

Punners Among Us

We're big punsters in this house.  I'm not so good at delivering them, but I am pretty quick on the uptake when someone around me makes one.  I have a lot of practice.  It's practically nonstop around here. 

At a parent-teacher conference when Abigail entered the 7th grade, the science teacher told us a story about the first day of school, when he was introducing the new class to the classroom.  He showed the new "big kid" students (7th grade is a BIG DEAL!  They're all GROWN UP!) the classroom pet, a python.  His name was Monty.  Of course you know the one kid who got it:  Yes, Abigail.  "Haha, Monty the Python!" 

We bloggers often seem to be masters of the punful title. 

Well, damn. That has brought me up short.  I've been searching all over the net for punny titles.  I ended up getting sucked into the black hole of blog-reading for almost an hour.  Found some great reading, but didn't find any more punny titles.  You've let me down, people! (How about we call next week the Week of Punny Titles?)  Not puny.  Punny.

Typical that when I'm looking for something that I usually trip over, I can't find it.  But I'm on limited time here, folks! I do have to work for a living!  So onward and upward. 

This was all intended as a lead-in to tell you that last night in the Bible Lit. class, the professor wrote this word on the board:

theodicy

and asked, did anyone know the definition.  A young man in the front row, completely deadpan, said, "It's by Homer, right?"

Ahhhhhahaha, that woke me up from my overworked, overtired stupor.  My kind of brain!  My faith in youth is restored.

It's Not Only the Blogging Mojo That's On Hiatus

The kitchen mojo has flown the coop, too.  Unfortunately, my extended family, for whom I have been The Cook since I was 10 years old -- the person who can (the way they see it) look in the pantry to find only some dried beans, a bag of flour, a jar of capers and a jar of home-canned tomatoes and somehow end up with lobster bisque, salad of field greens, succulent roast pork, roasted herbed sweet potatoes, and steamed asparagus with garlic-butter sauce -- did not get the memo that I am now a freaking menace in the kitchen. 

I should throw something gynecological in here, so Rams will comment, but I have no fresh ideas.  Wait, I know, how about "buns in the oven," Rams?!

I've baked bread since, yeah, I was about 10 or 12 years old.  I used to have sourdough starter in my fridge at all times and baked bread at least twice a week.  Ohmygod, but I do miss the sourdough.  *sighhhhhh*  Sourdough applesauce cake was in the regular Friday-night lineup around here, sourdough pancakes or waffles on the weekends, and at least one or two loaves of sourdough bread through the week.  So my sister rightly assumes that it's no biggie to ask me to bring the bread or rolls (she was being flexible there) for Christmas dinner. 

But see paragraph one above. 

And also, see the following:  I have been avoiding wheat and most other grains for a few years now.  We've (well, "I've") gone over this before, about my discovery of the Blood Type Diet and the whole blood pressure, weight, headache, cholesterol turnaround thing.  And, well, bread-baking ain't like riding a bicycle.  Well, maybe it is, but you can't just jump on a bike after several years and be assured that you won't fall on your ass.  Add to that the fact that my oven has been acting unpredictable since that whole arcing-on-the-night-before-Thanksgiving incident a few years ago, and also that my favorite place for letting the dough rise was our sunroom which is now just a condemned leaky relic of its former self, and, well, you see my problem? 

Anyhoo.  I no longer have the sourdough starter, which in itself is not an insurmountable problem, but I also can't remember what my favorite yeasted bread dough recipes were.  The feeling I got when buying wheat flour (even whole wheat) the other night was much akin to that awful feeling I had when, after having followed a vegan diet for six years, I started buying meat again.  You'd think I had just walked into the Price Chopper and picked up a bundle of smack off the shelves, for all the guilt I felt carrying it to the front of the store and paying for it.  *gasp* I am drug meat- wheat-free!  Someone might see me with this!  I have only one word for me when I get like this:  Freak. 

And then I couldn't remember what bowl I would use for bread, I couldn't remember the method, I almost forgot that I love my KitchenAid mixer for kneading the dough -- I forgot how long to knead it in there.  I felt out of my element about the entire process.  What pans do I use?  Oh, cripes, I forgot to buy yeast! Shit, didn't I used to have a candy/yeast thermometer?  And on and on like that.

My God, who am I and what have I done with Norma's brain?! 

So.  Turns out that once I forced myself to focus and get my bearings, I can do nothing now except produce a highly anticlimactic story (Rams!), because, well, hell, the rolls turned out just fine. Good, even.  Delicious, even. 

I used this recipe, substituting one cup of whole-wheat flour for a cup of the all-purpose flour, for a little added fiber and healthfulness.  They took one helluva long time to rise, but after cranking up the heat in this cool house, we got there.  And oh, the smell of yeast in the house again! Blast this gluten-free diet lifestyle.  Boy, howdy.

I placed the balls of dough in the shapes of a Christmas tree and two wreaths. I made the rolls small (one-inch balls -- Rams, ten-hut!), so they were almost bite-sized pieces, and the recipe done that way would make a fabulous addition to a buffet table, to make mini-sandwiches or whatever, perhaps even for a New Year's Party.  It fooled everyone at the Christmas dinner into thinking it was business as usual in the Norma kitchen. 

Crap, now they'll probably ask me to bake bread again next week for the next family gathering. I wonder how long I can keep up this charade. (I do know that I could buy bread, but....you know.  That part of my brain that says "That's Just Not Riiiiiight" is not dead yet.)

And I forgot to take a photo.  Sorry about the anticlimax (Rams?) and lack-of-photo thing.  I'm still searching for my blogging mojo.