Red yarn + white yarn + knitting needles + this pattern + a handful of very, very, VERY annoyed cats leads to this:
and also this:
When they find us dead in our beds tomorrow morning, you all will know why.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
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Red yarn + white yarn + knitting needles + this pattern + a handful of very, very, VERY annoyed cats leads to this:
and also this:
When they find us dead in our beds tomorrow morning, you all will know why.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
I decided that, in honor of Hanukkah this year, I would make latkes.
I decided this mainly because a friend was talking about making them and it occurred to me that I am not sure I have ever *had* a latke, and really, how can you go wrong with a dish that involves potatoes and frying, but seeing as it is currently the middle of Hanukkah, that seemed a good time to try them out.
I did my usual recipe search on Google (all hail Google) and found a few different options. Richard went and bought potatoes and onions because we didn’t have either in the house, and I broke out the food processor and turned 3 large potatoes and 1 small sweet potato that’s been lurking in the drawer for weeks and really needed to be used, and half an onion, into something that ended up looking an awful lot like very lumpy orange sherbet. It was actually kind of….disturbing. And that is being very kind.
Then I added an egg and some flour and some baking powder and a little salt and I stirred it all together and it sat there in the bowl looking like creepy melted sherbet while I heated up a pan of oil, and then I dumped in the first glob and learned my very first Latke Lesson: make them small, because large ones will splatter oil ALL OVER THE KITCHEN. In my defense, I have never made these before – in fact, I cannot honestly recall the last time I tried to deep-fry *anything* – and the recipe did say to dump in 1/3 cup of batter at a time (serves me right for paying attention to the recipe, apparently), but that was all manner of exciting there for a while.
Eventually, however, I started getting the hang of this whole ‘frying’ thing, and I put in much smaller little globs of creepy orange sherbet goo, and added more oil to keep the pan at the proper level of sizzling + splattering (because why waste any opportunity to make even MORE of a mess in the kitchen!).
Once the first batch was done, we stood at the kitchen counter and we each tried our very first latke (well, it was *my* first latke; Richard thinks maybe he has had them once before). And oh my. Those are really, really good. A little chewy, and a little crispy, and just all around awesome. Plus, once fried, the crusty brown exterior totally disguised the fact that the inside still looked a bit like we had tried to deep fry orange sherbet.
We ate our latkes with sour cream and with dollops of homemade apple butter on top. They were absolutely delicious.
We will not speak of the current state of the kitchen, however. Or of the smell of fried things that hangs in the air all over the house. Sometimes it is just better to pretend.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
At about 7 this morning, a herd of elephants went rampaging through the house over my head, thundering around and crashing into things. This may make no sense until I explain that we live in a roughly 100-year-old high-water bungalow style house that, at some point in the past was raised even higher, so the main living space is on the second floor (as is the front door), and the bedrooms are on the lower level. We also have no carpeting anywhere in the house (a combination of six cats + allergies + we much prefer the look of wood even without the first two issues), so activity on the upper level can often be heard down below. Â Completely unrelated (of course – ha), it is always astounding to me how much noise an animal who weighs less than 15 pounds can make when they put their minds to it.
Richard can sleep through anything. Alas, I lost that ability shortly after I left college. So I decided to take advantage of the fact that I was now wide awake, and went upstairs to try to make some significant headway on a particular knitting project.
However, today was apparently one of those days where I was incapable of either counting, or reading a chart correctly. I finished up a sizable piece of knitting this morning, and then I went off to the monthly lace knitting group meeting, where I hit the wall in terms of chart reading (let’s just say I would be *done* with this lace piece by now if I hadn’t had to keep ripping back and redoing the same damn three rows, and the fact that I finished the meeting further ahead than when I started is only due to my ability to knit extremely fast). And then when I got back home I picked up my yarn and needles for the project I was working on this morning and discovered that actually I had done it all wrong, and needed to rip it all out and start again. Grumble.
But the day was not entirely lost. It is not as if I have to have either of these projects done tomorrow. I got to sit on the couch under an afghan and a cat for several hours today, doing something I love, and then go hang out with a bunch of awesome people and do more of it (minus the afghan and the cat, but with bonus added chai). And then this evening we went out to dinner to a new-to-us ramen place downtown with some friends, and we sat there and slurped noodles and talked about life, the universe, and everything including cats (okay, a lot of it was about cats, but that is how we roll), and we finished the evening with house-made mochi and black sesame ice cream and an agreement that we definitely have to go back there again. Soon.
And then Richard and I came home and watched The Next Iron Chef, where the drama of this week, where one of our least favorite chefs was booted off, almost (but not quite) made up for the drama of last week where our very favorite chef was eliminated (sob), and I plugged away on the thing I screwed up on this morning, and this time it all worked just fine and there was no more ripping out to do.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
November is over; has been over for hey, over a week now, but there was still one more thing to do when it comes to Nanowrimo – namely, the TGIO party.
Since Richard is one of the Municipal Liaisons for the Sacramento region, we usually host the TGIO party. Most of the time, at least in the more recent years, I haven’t been able to attend because 1) it is usually in the evening, and 2) it is usually the weekend of Vox Musica’s Christmas concert, so most years my contribution to the party has been to help get the house cleaned up, occasionally remember to bake something if I have the time, and then scurry off to perform in the Vox concert and miss the actual gathering completely.
This year, however, the first weekend of December started on the 1st of the month, which was a little early to try to do a party, considering everyone was more likely going to spend that weekend trying to recover from the month prior, plus there were other time constraints. So we all put our heads together and decided to make it this weekend. And because this is also apparently the Weekend Everyone Schedules Their Holiday Parties and we (Richard and I, at least) already had other plans for the evening, we also decided to make it during the day.
So this morning I got up and made a double-batch of scones, primarily because it seemed like a good morning for scones, and also because I knew they would be a tasty addition to the party table and we did some quick tidying around the house (which mostly consists of rounding up all the bazillion cat toys, empty boxes and paper bags that are left out for the cats because there are no spoiled cats in *this* house, not a single one) and stuffing them into a closet out of sight). People starting arriving at about 11, and eventually there were enough of us to fill the living room and spill into the dining room.
(As an aside, we always do these parties potluck, mainly because it’s easy and less stress on whoever happens to be hosting, and it is always amusing to see which way the food skews. Some events there is a fairly equal distribution of healthy (veggie trays, fruits, that sort of thing) versus unhealthy (which we all cheerfully refer to as the ‘death’ side of the table – namely items of the baked or chocolate variety). This time the selection skewed pretty heavily toward the ‘death’ side of the equation, despite the fact that some of the group made valiant an argument that the spinach in the spinach dip actually counted as a vegetable.)
Anyway. It was fun. Mostly everyone just sat around and talked about all sorts of things – the IRC channel, trying to get word count, whether anyone had done Camp Nano before (and what they thought about it), the annoying stupidity of acronyms like YOLO (look it up), and all manner of other things that involved a lot of laughing.
After that was over, and everyone left, then Richard and I did the post-party clean-up and released the cats from where they’d been locked up downstairs (mainly to keep Sherman from running out the door, and Rosemary from jumping up on the table to steal food and/or shamelessly begging for food from everyone there). Then it was off to come up with some suitable gifts for the white elephant exchange at the next social gathering in our agenda, try to make a dent in the mountain of laundry, and oh yeah, sneak in a quick nap (or at least make an attempt, no matter how futile.
This evening we headed off to one of those aforementioned holiday shindigs, at the home of some friends. It was a wonderful evening. Lots of people, lots of chatter, delicious food, silly party games, and just a good time over all. We hugged our goodbyes and walked out into air so cold you could see your breath in front of your face, and then headed home to turn on the lights on the tree and curl up under afghans and pet the cats, and reflect that oh, it has been a lovely day.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
I had this silly idea that once November was over, things would get a bit calmer.
November was, of course, Nanowrimo month, so we were out nearly every night and every weekend attending write-ins, or else hunkered down in a coffee shop somewhere, typing furiously away on our laptops, chasing the all mighty word count. It was all kinds of fun, especially the write-ins where there would be crowds of us, all silently typing away, occasionally giggling because we were also socializing with each other; we were just doing it on an IRC channel set up specifically for our region.
November also was crunch time for making sure I had all the music for our first concert down, so mixed in with the write-ins there was also rehearsal time and a sectional here and there, and hours spent hunched over the piano at home, picking out the notes and trying to drill the more difficult parts into my head.
There was knitting, too, since there is always knitting, but it had to take a back seat to the rest of the month. Much like everything else always does in November.
But November is over now, and as of the first weekend of December, so is the concert. And yet I do not feel any less busy. Granted there is no more music I need to be learning, and no more novel looming over my head, but there are knitting projects that have looming deadlines, and a massive editing project I volunteered to do, and we are careening quickly into the season of parties and socializing; of baking and decorating and trying to figure out what to get everyone on the gift list, and what to write in the annual yearly recap letter.
So maybe once Christmas is over, things will get a bit calmer. Except for the fact that rehearsals for the next concert start up soon, and I told a friend I would do a 5K run with her in January (no, I do not know what I was thinking either), and I really need to take advantage of the cooler weather to try my hand at making a few more wheels of cheese, and hey, if there’s a free weekend, maybe we could finally tackle the wasteland that is the backyard, and…and….yeah.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
We have had the tree up for a while – in fact, since the weekend after Thanksgiving. It is a fake tree, because several years back we both realized we were tired of dealing with the mess of a real one, and it has turned out to be a good thing because half the cats in our house feel that the Christmas tree is an awesome toy that must be scaled on a regular basis.
We own a decent collection of beautiful ornaments to put on that tree, but ever since we got Rupert and Ingrid three years ago, we learned the hard way that putting anything breakable on the tree is just a very, very bad idea. Granted, we did have a collection of cheaper, soft ornaments that were always hung on the bottom, since all of our previous cats thought the dangling toys were too tempting, and usually at least one or two of them would be ‘liberated’ through the course of the holiday season. But before getting Rupert and Ingrid, we never had any actual tree climbers.
Rupert and Ingrid were soon joined by Nutmeg in the tree, in 2010, Â and all three of them continued the trend last year. In 2010, at the after Christmas sales, I picked up a handful of super cheap, nonbreakable ornaments – the sort you can find 10 for a $1 in the clearance bin. They’re not my first choice for decorating, of course – I much prefer the individual ornaments collected over the years – but when one has a trio of tree-climbing cats, one has to make do.
This year, we still have a trio of cats in the tree. Although Ingrid no longer seems to have much interest in climbing it, her place has been taken, quite enthusiastically, by Sherman. This has not surprised us in the slightest, of course. Since pretty much the day we brought Sherman home back in May, Rupert took him under his wing and has made it his mission to teach Sherman *all* of his crazy habits, plus Sherman is still young enough to have plenty of bad habits of his own.
Case in point. This is what happened when we finally put the ornaments on the tree this evening.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
We trickle in to the restaurant slowly, over the course of half an hour or so. There is no rush; there is plenty to do while waiting for each other – cakes and pies and pastries to ogle in the bakery case, and catching up, one on one.
We ponder cookies and truffles and whether we should save room for dessert. We ponder the fact that the place has a ‘polenta of the day’. We ponder the menu and wonder how we are supposed to pick just one thing.
We order our food and find a table; the only one large enough for the group. This is especially challenging because we’re still not entirely sure how many people are coming, but we will make it work. We always do.
We eat pulled pork sandwiches and grilled shrimp caesar salads and giant cheeseburgers and butternut squash soup, and we sip our drinks, and in between bites we silently eye each other’s plates and think to ourselves ‘Hmm, maybe next time I will have to get what she is having,” and there is never any question that there will be a next time.
We chatter between bites, sharing stories about kids and pets; about families and jobs and travel and good things and bad. A chance meeting with a friend results in a surprise plate of cookies brought to our table and we finish our dinners and then nibble on delicate cookies crusted with bright green crystals of sugar. The cakes and pastries and truffles are forgotten.
There is laughter, because there is always laughter when we get together. There is knitting, because that is also a given too. We are surprised and instantly apologetic when a waiter comes over to let us know they’re closed, and we hastily gather our things, having completely lost track of time.
The air outside is cold, and in the time between when we arrived and when we left, there has been a bit of rain; just enough to cover the cars in a light sprinkle of individual drops. We call out our goodbyes to each other as we each head off in a different direction, climb into our cars, and head for home.
The building in which I work prepares for a holiday by decorating. But it is done very, very slowly.
First, there was a tree. A fake one, obviously (less mess that way), all white and sparkly in the light of the building lobby. That went up shortly after Thanksgiving. Just a single tree.
Next came the ornaments – just a few here and there, over the course of a few days, until the tree was festooned  with a collection of beautiful red and gold and silver baubles. Here is where I admit to being a little bit jealous, since the only ornaments we can have on our tree at home are the sort of cheap plastic where if the cats (three of whom consider the Christmas tree an exciting jungle gym), or rather, *when* the cats break some, there is no great sense of loss.
Now that December has come, the decorating is kicked into higher gear. Yesterday someone hung garland – great, long strands of it around the ceiling. And tonight, as I walked out, I saw that the normally sterile ‘air lock’ between the two sets of entry doors had been transformed with holiday decor. The number of giant poinsettias on the floor has been slowly growing in number as the days pass. And at some point during the night an elf has been sneaking in and stenciling holiday cheer onto glass office doors.
I wonder if somewhere in this building there is a series of boxes, each labeled with a specific date. And if at some point someone devised a specific decoration schedule. Tree may only be erected on X date. Garland must not be hung until X days later. No poinsettias may be placed anywhere until two weeks in.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
There were a lot of things I needed to do today, before I headed off to sing.
There was laundry that needed doing. And dishes in the dishwasher that should have been put away. And a refrigerator that needs a good cleaning. And something on the floor over there that I probably do not want to investigate too closely (always a hazard in a house with cats). And knitting that needs to be finished. And…and…and.
But the past two days have been so busy. Work -paid and volunteer. Dress rehearsal and the first concert of the weekend. A five-hour marathon editing session.
So instead of doing the things that I should be doing, I did things I wanted to do instead.
I sat in my pajamas and caught up on my blog reading.
I drank a lot of  coffee.
I watched Rupert and Sherman scramble up the Christmas tree, one after the other, and was too late fetching my phone to get a picture.
I read four books on my tablet, one right after the other.
I ate leftover apple butter streusel cake.
And just for a few hours, I pretended that all the other things – the shoulds and the musts and the need-tos – were someone else’s problem.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.
It is December 1st, which means that once again, it is time to kick off Holidailies – the annual project where a bunch of people do their best to post daily blog entries for the entire month of December. Or in my case, where I start the month full of energy and enthusiasm and then fizzle out a few days in and instead spend my time reading all the blog entries everyone else manages to still keep writing, with far more clever turns of phrase and witty banter than I could ever produce. I say this, of course, with the knowledge that a significant number of the other Holidailies participants are posting pretty much the same sentiment. Who knows. Maybe one of these years we’ll all rub off on each other and find that writing mojo that has been slowly fading for far too long.
But I digress. Welcome to December, and to Holidailies. If you’re new here, I would recommend checking out the About page, except that I never got around to scribbling more than a paragraph or two there, so…yeah. Hi. I’m Jennifer. I live in a 100-year-old house in a city full of trees, with my husband and six cats. I knit, a lot. I bake when I am bored. Sometimes I do a lot of canning. I am the grammarian about whom your mother warned you. I sing low alto in a women’s vocal ensemble. I recently made cheddar cheese. I like Brussel sprouts. I read really, really, really fast. I know all the songs in  “A Shoggoth on the Roof” by heart. I have no clue how to wear makeup. I prefer caramel over chocolate. You will pry the Oxford comma out of my cold, dead hands.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies