Now Norma Knits

Wherein Paula Wonders What In The World She's Got Herself Into

At least I feed my itinerant workers fairly well.
The leftover roasted potatoes from dinner the night before, with more fresh garlic scapes and some goat cheese, and a few eggs, becomes frittata for breakfast, served with strong coffee and biscuits with butter and strawberries.

It's a good thing she had a hearty breakfast.  She sure as hell needed it.

Hired Hands is the name of her blog.  "Friendly Helping Hands" might be more apt, I think.

(See those daisies over Paula's head? [click for bigger photos]  Her assignment was to wipe them, and any of their cousins she saw, OUT.)

Don't ever question the female work ethic. (not that you'd DARE to on this blog, anyway, right?)

Get a load of this photo. Paula is saying, "Holy crap. When Norma says she has weeds, she IS.NOT.KIDDING."  (and we're not all done)

Want another look at the pile? 

Trust me when I say: A lot of sweat was sweated. With only a break to have some pizza and iced tea, Paula worked nonstop all the lonnnng day before she got in her car and headed northward. As for me, I was a Tom Sawyer and didn't do any of the work -- I was too busy taking pee breaks and photos of Paula.  My muscles are not really believing that, though. Did I mention there is still more to be done? (and that the wheelbarrow was filled and emptied twice the day before?)

What a wonderful, wonderful friend you are, Paula.  Thank you for coming all this way, for your companionship, and all the sweat and toil you expended. Now when I go outside, I will not want to cover my eyes and run, screaming, back inside. What remains to be done is not nearly so overwhelming.

P.S.  On Saturday evening, much wine was drunk and there was a teeny bit of knitting. Paula is working on some adorable felted chickens from a Fibertrends pattern, and I picked up a Magic 28 sock which I didn't even finish.  Did I mention the wine?  I don't know about Paula, but I had a great time. 

P.P.S.  Judging by some of the comments yesterday, I could start a real come-to-Vermont-and-I'll-cook-for-you-in-exchange-for-weed-pulling/decorating/wallpaper stripping (and who knows what else?) racket.  I was going to say "My old pal Dave really wants to strip my wallpaper," but then I realized how bad that might sound....

But hey, I'm totally game.  (We also need a new roof.  Any roofers out there?)  Be careful what you volunteer for, though.  You saw what poor Paula got herself caught up in...

Someone's Coming for Dinner, Eh?

What a community.  This morning Paula wrote that if I were willing to put her up for the night, she'd like it if I saved some weeds for her to pull tomorrow.  So my itinerant weeder from Canada will be arriving just in time for dinner.  You know what that means:  She must be treated to an all-Vermont meal. Paula's omnivorous, so I can be adventurous with the cuisine.

My humble garden provides the beets and the garlic scapes that just happen to be ready to harvest.  I'll make my maple vinaigrette to pour over the beets once they are cooked, and I'll sautee the greens with the garlic scapes.

I ran to the local farm stand for some baby potatoes to roast, and I've got some ground Vermont farmed venison for some burgers for the grill. My mom just happened to stop by this morning to return a dish I'd given her filled with garden lettuce last week. She returned the dish full of strawberries that she'd just picked in the next town over.  I'll make biscuits for the berries and top it with Vermont cream. Dinner is served. Wanna join? 

Coffee Table Art

If you concentrate real hard, you might conceivably imagine that a knitter/spinner still lives here, despite all other evidence to the contrary.*

As for my weekend plans, I co-opt the following language Ryan used in her blog recently:

I realized that my house was starting to look abandoned, even white trashy. My choice was either to haul in a rusted truck on blocks, start planting everything in gilded tires, and git me some chewin'€™ tabaccy, or actually clean up the yard.

So if I'm not thwarted by non-stop thunderstorms or something, I'm determined to restore my messy, weedy mess -- the weedy mess that's so messy and weedy -- to some semblance of order -- and dare I hope for beauty? -- by the end of the weekend, even if it kills me. 

Happy weekend, everyone!

*Because I know someone will ask:  Spindles in three sizes by Golding; white ball of yarn, gorgeous Bainin from Dagny at The Irish Ewe; fiber wool-silk blends of spinning fiber by the incomparable Kae; vintage wooden knitting needles from eBay; fancy bead-topped needles, a gift from the lovely and very pregnant Ruth. 

You Might Have To Look Hard To See Me, But I'm Still Here, Right On The Face of the Earth

Man, oh, man, have I been busy.... there has been a run of long -- long -- depositions, and in addition there have been evening office meetings, considerable driving, and some running-around-like-chicken-with-head-cut-off.  (Having raised chickens as a child, and having observed that event a few times, I don't exactly love that image, but it is quite apt.)

The other night, after getting out of a 10-hour deposition in Plattsburgh, across the lake, I walked out the door of the building and into a serious thunderstorm. The deluge of water pouring off the roof was unavoidable; the guy taking the ticket at the ferry dock got his own wet t-shirt show.  Classy. 

At the moment, I can see a glint of light at the end of the tunnel, and I do have a bit of a breather at the moment to try to catch up, and it seems to be slowing down slightly - or is that just wishful thinking?  I'm not sure, but maybe if I believe it hard enough, it will come true.

In my spare time, I've been reading a little more Herrick-style poetry, eating fresh strawberries and nice salads from the garden, and even some teriyaki shrimp from time to time, and I've been heeding Cookie's admonition to drink my water (I quote Cookie: "Don't make me send Sandy over there!").   

And I've been saving and pressing four-leaf clovers for Debi.

So you see?  Still here. 

P.S.  I am afraid -- truly afraid -- to begin tackling the weeds in the flower gardens (not that I am in danger of suddenly having any great abundance of time to do so).  They are presently poised to swallow up all of Vermont.  If that happens, you might have to look even harder to find me.  Send in the National Guard.

P.P.S.  Wasn't that poll fun the other day?  It seemed to remain at 83/17%, give or take, right the way through the entire poll.  Interesting, huh?  Thanks for participating, y'all!

A New Day, A New Batch, and A Little Poll

[Note to Dear Readers:  The site may be a bit slow to load today because of the poll at the end.  Please be patient.]

I made a second batch of rose petal jam this morning.  Practice does indeed make perfect - or better, anyway.  The recipe says it sets up fast, and I gotta tell you, that's a bit of an understatement.  The very first time I made this jam several years ago, it came out perfectly.  Me and my beginner's luck again.

Then the next couple of years I had trouble with it being too gloppy and thick. It tasted wonderful, but I didn't care for the consistency. For this kind of a jam, which I think of almost as a sauce, I'd rather it be on the soupy side than the thick, glutinous side. It's good on toast or biscuits, but it's even better, in my opinion, on a plain white cake or vanilla ice cream...or even better, just off the spoon straight from the jar. 

To answer Sil's and others' questions, the flavor is hard to describe, but it is soooo sensuous.  Floral, sweet and tangy, just as Silvia guessed.  Well, she asked was it one of those.  It's all of those.  I'd love to be able to send each and every one of you a jar to taste, but it's the kind of jam that is not really cooked, and so its keeping and shipping qualities are a bit limited. To answer others' questions, I have only ever used rosa rugosa -- or what we think of as "wild roses," but I'd imagine any kind of rose that is fragrant would work. The fragrance is an important element.

Yesterday's batch came out okay, but it was still quite thick.  Today I decided to try a little different method, and it came out beautifully.  Rather than pour the cooked pectin into the blender jar as the recipe directs, after I blended the petals/lemon/water/sugar, I poured the resulting syrup into a large batter bowl (a bowl that has a pouring spout).  Then when the pectin was cooked, I poured it into the bowl and gently stirred it into the syrup, rather than using the blender.  Using the blender for even a few seconds, as I did yesterday, resulted in too thick a jam.  Today it was lovely and pourable into the little jars.

Bliss in a jar.

Someone has chided me (all in fun) that I shouldn't make so many assumptions, and has suggested that I poll my readers about this.  If, yesterday, I had simply put the title as it was, "Gather Ye Rosebuds Petals While Ye May," and not put Herrick's poem up in the post, would you have had any idea what I was talking about?  Would you have understood the allusion?  Are you still confused by what it says/said?  Am I just an ass?  Wait, don't answer that last one.  But just for fun, and to satisfy our collective curiosity, will you take my poll?  Elucidate in the comments, too, if you wish.   

Gather Ye Rosebuds Petals While Ye May

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

~ Robert Herrick

Today is the day the rosa rugosa petals are ready to be picked.  That means I have a limited time to make the Rose Petal Jam.  It's such a sensual and heady experience, and the jam is such a delicacy, I'm not about to squander the opportunity, so I was up at six, gathering my rosebuds petals.

Summer Saturdays are for Gardening

I haven't forgotten my Saturday Sky photo.  It's a nice one out there...

My maternal grandma had a knack for finding four-leaf clovers with no effort.  I do, too. 

Guess what's for breakfast:

Now guess what's for dinner:

Look!  More baby Red Silvias for Sister Salads:

Gratuitous garlic-and-beets shot:

Now the fun stuff is done, and it's down to the weeding and deadheading drudgery for much of the rest of the day.  Ah, who am I kidding?  I love it, drudgery or not...

If It's Not One Thing....EVERYTHING IS FINE!

BIG DRAMATIC SIGH.

You know on Grey's Anatomy when Izzie and/or Meredith and/or Cristina (and/or whomever) says, "I'm fine; everything is fine," when everything is really anything but fine? 

Yeah, like that. 

My work life is undergoing a metamorphosis.  Whether the result is going to be more like a butterfly or a dung beetle remains to be seen.  In the meantime, we are going through a very busy patch that is taking a lot of my energy and attention.  I have little time for my blog, and even less for anyone else's, I'm afraid.  I feel disconnected from my community and sad about that.  I hope readers are not leaving in droves.

It's not all bad.  Some of my attention is being turned towards good things. 

I'm fine! (sometimes "fine" really does mean "fine.")

But my work laptop is "fine."  Lately some little things have cropped up that I thought were merely annoyances.  One of them, though, was causing me enough consternation that I decided to take a trip out to visit the Geek Squad to see if they could help me. 

Long story short:  Diagnosis:  "corrupted operating system." 

I'm fine.  Sometimes "I'm fine" means "I'm totally f***ed."

So the plan is I have to back up all the data and bring in the computer to have the Windows operating system replaced and restored.   Time for them to accomplish this restoration?  Five to seven days, give or take. 

Just shoot me. 

I know I ought to back things up more often than Whenever There Is A Computer Emergency And I Have Zero Time For Such Nonsense, but I usually don't.   I guess I should consider myself lucky that this computer diagnosis was made before everything crashed.  And I do consider myself lucky that I have the older (slightly unreliable, as in it crashed once in the middle of a deposition, and it has since been repaired, but I still don't trust it as far as I can throw it) IBM laptop to use while this one is being restored, because I have bazillions (okay, not quite) of pages to get out, including another expedited one to take Friday ("today" by the time this posts).

Shoot me again, as I am not yet fully dead.  Save the silver bullet for last, just in case.

Shadow self-portraits.

A Long, Full Day, But Still No Knitting

I suppose one's work day could start out worse than this:

There I am, taking the photo at left on my ferry ride across the lake to my deposition yesterday.  (for once the blogger remembered her camera...)

It was a long, full day, which ended All About Ruben. (my nephew) 

He graduated from the 8th grade:

...wherein he captured several academic awards....

Here are some more shots of my "little" nephew....

...with his auntie..... (do I look a bit manic in this photo or what?!) 

With his cousin and older brother.....

...with his mom (my sister - I guess we were all a bit manic last night). 

Six-foot-two already, needless to say, one of his games is basketball.  We tried for hours to capture a still image of him playing basketball from a DVD that one of the team parents had put together, but we weren't able to do it.  I hope I can get a copy of that photo to show you.  It's pure poetry in motion.  He's a gem, he's brilliant, he's sweet, and I love him.  Go, Ruben!

A Brief Word About Red Scarf 2008

It's time to talk Red Scarves.   Please read this page for important info about Red Scarf 2008 -- dates, guidelines, etc., and get out your red yarn and knit!