Posie Gets Cozy

Tyler's Tomatillos, and a Time-Out

I TiVo a few cooking shows on my little upstairs television so I can watch one or two after I hop into bed, before Andy and Clover come up. I like this quiet time when I am cozy and my hands are still and I can watch Ina or Tyler or Alton make something. The three shows I like, Barefoot Contessa, Tyler's Ultimate, and occasionally Good Eats, have very different styles, their hosts very different energies. Ina is calming and competent; Tyler is full of whirling energy; Alton seems to make everything more complicated than it has to be (?), but I always learn something.

Lately, I have been choosing to watch the Tylers first. Such a nice guy — I saw his Chefography the other night. Good guy. Good food. Made his Chicken Enchiladas with Roasted Tomatillo Chile Salsa on Saturday night and they were fantastic. I highly recommend them, especially for a party or something ('cause the recipe makes a lot).

It was my first time cooking with tomatillos and I really like them. Sort of tart but sweet, and still mellow. You roast this stuff first, then bang it about in the food processor, then add part of it to the chicken sauce, part of it to the top of the enchiladas (below the cheese). Good stuff!

I'm going to sign off here for a bit and try to get myself a little more organized. I'm having a hard time staying on top of it all lately, and my in-box is a big disaster. I truly regret that I am unable to respond to a lot of the questions that seem to pile up in there, and here — please check my FAQ pages for some answers if you don't hear back. I'm working on Book Idea #2 and it is happily though completely occupying me. But I am going to try and get off my computer a bit to get outside and write some recipe cards in the sun. I feel like a mushroom that has been under a duvet cover of moss, and the sun is supposed to come out soon.

Of course, Emily's suggestion of uploading recipes to Tastebook.com and making your own cookbook is so tempting I can hardly stand it. It would require lots of time on the computer, but how awesome to wind up with a cool binder like that? They have great stock photos, and you can use your own, as well. I ordered the sample recipe cards and will let you know what the quality looks like when they come. This was not even on the list of things I need to do, but I can see that it could easily become one of those activities I could become quickly obsessed with as my in-box implodes, my pets go unwalked, my calls go unreturned, and my husband is forced to eat Combos and microwave popcorn for dinner.

Anyone know what this is?

Well I mean, does anyone know who makes this fabric, or what it's called, or, more importantly, where I can get another half yard? It's much prettier in real life than this yucky scan, and it's a gorgeous weight, like lawn. Wait — is this from Mill End Store? Ack. If you recognize this fabric, will you let me know? I need a bit more to finish something and am blanking.

Thank you for all the sweet bike ride comments, and the recipe card thanks, and the Cranford weigh-ins! I did love it. My favorite line was, "That cow is like a daughter to me!" I also loved "And now . . . anemones." That was wonderful. Can't wait 'til next week.

Eeeenywho, egads I have a lot of catching up to do. Lots of email to answer, so if you're waiting to hear from me, it might just happen this week. Might just happen!

A Bike Ride in the Country

After an incredibly stressful several months at work, Andy took some time off these past few weeks. As an early birthday present, I bought him a new bicycle so we could go out riding together. I have a really nice cruiser that he got for me eight or nine years ago. Now we ride in style. I love riding bikes because I can go so much further!

This is the Springwater Corridor, a former railway corridor once used to carry produce from the small farms to the city. Now it's a pedestrian/bicycle/horse path that crosses southeast Portland for about twenty miles, give or take. Yesterday we started at 122nd Avenue. That's Mt. Hood gleaming above the trees, about fifty miles away.

We rode to the old neighborhood of Ambleside in Gresham, once a vacation destination for Portlanders looking to get away for the weekend, now just a sweet little neighborhood. Here's the entrance and the darling house that faces the path. It's all private, so you can't get any closer. But, oh. It's so lovely.

The path wiles flatly through miles of brushy, blackberry-brambled urban countryside. Small farms, rickety outbuildings, chickens and sheep, and backyard ponies line the trail, along with the occasional apartment complex, busy-road crossing, and sketchy character. For the most part, it's a bucolic respite, smelling of weeds and fresh-cut grass and the gurgling creek. My favorite part is actually a short detour through the neighborhood near 158th, where a recent flood damaged the old trestle bridge. For a few blocks you must leave the path and travel the sleepy, carless road, over the creek, past the horse pasture.

I still think of my bike as my pony, as I did when I was a child, horse-crazy and filled with hopeless, stomach-aching longing, tying a string to my handlebars for "reins," riding my bike over "jumps" (painted lines) in the school parking lot behind my house. I set myself complicated obstacle courses in which I would compete (against myself), occasionally wiping out in spectacular displays: full-body abrasions and blood-curdling screams that would wake my after-dinner-napping father, who was never pleased with this. He did not like horses.

As an adult, this longing for the country life manifests itself in pasteurized, suburban-girl ways — a bike ride past some piney, running sheep (those are sheep), Thursday concerts at the farm, berries from the farmer's market, August pilgrimages to the county fair. I know nothing of the realities of the country. My mate is a city boy at heart; though always up for a field trip, he is a thoroughly social creature, delighting in close neighbors, cable TV, and the urban hustle. Our patch of property, at 50 by 100 feet, is almost too big. Well, it's quite enough. My longing is mostly fantasy, I am sure. I do know that country life isn't easy. But what I really long for is a slower life, one with less input, less output. Not easier, just quieter. Less car. More animals. More weather.

At least we have this beautiful bike path. I think there's a Sunday farmer's market at the end of it, too, in Boring.

Excellent. We'll be there.

My sister made us some recipe cards!

Isn't my sissy the most awesomest??? Look what she made for us:

Click here for the free downloadable pdf that you can print out on cardstock with your inkjet printer and cut out. Here's the strawberry one:

I love these. I had been on the verge of grumpily designing my own (because I have been wanting, pretty much every day for the past year, to completely redo my recipe box properly and I can never find recipe cards that please me) when Julie showed me her adorable and recently updated web site last week, and I saw these sweeties there. PERFECT. Done. Now for a nice pen, and a lazy afternoon. . . .

Thanks Jules!!! You rules.

Cranford on PBS Sunday Night

If you come to visit me for longer than a day I'll probably try to make you watch my favorite movies, including Wives and Daughters, my absolute favorite 19th-century BBC period-piece, based on the book by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Sunday night PBS's Masterpiece series will begin airing three episodes of Cranford, based on another Elizabeth Gaskell novel about a small English village struggling with the effects of the looming Industrial Revolution.

I think this aired last winter in the U.K.? Was it good? It seems like it's gotten great reviews. I'm excited for it, I must say. If you aren't able to watch it Sunday night, they're making it available to watch on-line for a limited time starting May 5. Can't wait.

Warm Night, with Reading, and Kitters

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on her tuffet.

She's like, "Oh, you WILL pay attention to me. When I sit on your head, lady."

All in Their Places

On Tuesday, I started winding floss. It had to be done. For several years I have had three very full boxes of floss bobbins, organized by color. But this week I rewound all of them onto plastic bobbins (many of the old ones were on paper), labeling them with their DMC stickers (if I could — many of the numbers were not noted, and I had duplicates of many), redoing my rainbow.

It took two days. Rewinding flosses and planting them into rows of flossy tulips is fun for about . . . twenty minutes. On the fourteenth bobbin, you're still like, "Cool, this is fun, looks pretty, only 249 more to go, no prob, bring it." By the 50th you're like, "Yeah, they [whoever they are] are so right, I so totally have no life. None." By the last ones (in the 200s) you're feeling very mental, much as you did when you were finishing the ripple blanket on the ripple assembly line, sort of panicking and winding faster than your carpal tunnel allows, like someone running downhill on America's Funniest Videos (and by the way, as a longtime AFV watcher I never thought anyone could replace the comedic lunacy of Bob Saget, but Tom Bergeron you are hilarious, especially when you do that Big Head thing? — you should do a Big Head thing on someone running downhill toward, like, a big pile of soft hay or something. That would be hilarious. And also, more merry-go-rounds and treadmills. There's just nothing funnier than people wiping out on those). Anyway, when you're on your last bobbin, you will feel like your brain got all tangled and spun on the floss merry-go-round, so go have a bike ride and clear your head.

Oh, the bike ride. Well, the tire was brand new, put on at the bike shop that morning because the one from last year was flat. When it blew, Andy let me ride his new bike to save my bad foot the three-mile walk, and he led my lame Palomino pony (actually, she's more of a buckskin) back down the no-street-access path in topsiders and no socks ( = six blisters and a sad, barefooted walk back into the bike shop since he couldn't fit the shoes back on over the bubbles. I dared him to walk in barefoot. No one got it, though, except us, natch, because our humor is so subtle and cleverly hilarious. At least they didn't charge us to replace it again).

Guess we'll be getting that emergency repair kit we so cavalierly passed on at the bike shop the day before (when we were buying Andy's new bike). We pretty much go to the bike store every day. The bike guys said there was something wrong with my rim, which popped the tire, but supposedly that's been corrected now, so we'll see. . . . We are biking dillettantes. Don't ask us to be smart about it 'cause we won't. But look at these awesome bicycle baskets by David Hembrow. You may wonder why they are so expensive until you watch the video of him making one and then it is all very clear. Now that's handmade, baby.

Anyway, back to me. I am so loving the variegated hand-dyed cotton flosses from Weeks Dye Works and The Gentle Art. The Valdani threads are beautiful, though I haven't tried those yet. I buy evenweaves and fancy floss from Acorns and Threads here in town. After I recovered from the winding, when I saw how many regular floss bobbins I had that weren't numbered, I also hightailed it over to the DMC web site and ordered a floss color card, which should be here any day! Oooo, I can't wait!

Yes, this is how I get my jollies. What of it.

Three miles down the trail, it went "POP! hisssssssssssssss . . . sss . . . s. . . ."

TIME TO GO ON A DIET

The Dirt, as Promised

Yep, like I said. Though it's actually mulch/compost. Remember that we don't know what to call it. What's not pictured is the ginormous mountain of it that was piled in the driveway. Four yards of it (that's lots and lots), which Andy Paulson almost single-handedly dissemenated around the property, and on our neighbor's flower beds. My sister saw the pile before it was dissemenated. When she heard, the next day, that it was gone from the driveway, she apparently could not believe her ears. But I am here to tell you that four yards is about 479 wheelbarrows-worth, or at least that's how many times I think I watched Andy load and unload this thing. My job was just to spread it around stuff and even that was exhausting, so I can only imagine. Anyway, PHEW. Good job, babe.

These beds are the parkway, and they are a major problem for me. More dirt than plants. Space too big. The bed on the left is actually very dry, very clayey shade, presided over by the infamous plum tree (there is a better picture here). Almost no rainwater makes it onto this location in the summer. You can stand under this tree in a total downpour and barely get wet. When we first moved in, we vigorously amended the soil, but it reverts very quickly to a hard, dry layer of tree roots and dust. A raised bed might be a good alternative, though we can never decide on how to edge it, and worry that it, too, would turn into clay. Would it? Only the vinca seems not to care where it lives.

Gravelizing our backyard was truly one of the best things we ever did for our property.We have another enormous plum tree back there, too, and were having the same problem. Unfortunately, for the parkways, gravelizing is not really an option, though I see people do it. When you see it, it seems like such an act of desperation — but I can completely understand the impulse. But it just looks wrong to me, in such a public location, and our parkways are quite wide.

Xeriscape, naturally, is the right thing to consider. It has taken me quite a while to learn this. But look at this: a list, with pictures, and links. And THIS, which is just awesome and small and not overwhelming and you can make a little shopping list for yourself. And a thorough exploration of how to save money with xeriscaping, because these plants are expensive. My mother, who has the greenest thumb I've ever seen, did not pass this gene down to me, and gardening books seem to overwhelm me — I just want to be on a need-to-know basis, somehow, with this. So . . . whatever they've got that will make it easier for me to make it happen. It is times like this when I say THANK YOU Al Gore, for inventing the Internet!!! My goal for the summer is to befriend the dry shade garden.

Woolrush

I'm rushing out to the P.O. to get the scraps outta here, but look, Charlotte's having a drawing for some wooly bits (no, I don't know how to spelly "wooly" but it probably doesn't have two Ls like I had it last week and now I'm apparently too lazy to even run spell check, though not too lazy to write a whole long sentence about it, natch) so visit her and I'll be back tomorrow with pictures of . . . dirt. HOW CAN YOU RESIST. I know. Thrills.

Rainy Day Scrap Bags

Olly, olly, olly get your scrap bags here! Yep, right here!

There are fourteen half-pound Woolly Bags ($21) and fourteen Calico Bags ($19). All of them are a little bit different, but they look very similar to these. Lots of color, lots of stripes, lots of my favorite prints.

U.S. postage is included. Extra shipping will be charged to Canada ($2), Europe ($9) and Australia and Asia ($11).

If you'd like one of the scrap bags, please leave a comment here, letting me know which one (just one per person, okay?). I will send out Paypal invoices to the first twenty-eight people at the same time, later today. Then I'll get the bags out on Monday, since they're already packed up.

If they all sell, and you don't get an invoice from me, I'm sorry! I won't have any more Woollies, but I will do more Calicos sometime later this summer.

I think that's it. Thank you!

Can't wait to see what you do with them!

UPDATE: ALL SOLD OUT! :-) Thank you! And so sorry to everyone who didn't get one, seriously. I will definitely try to do more Calicos soon. xo

Wooly Reads

Since it is, once again, fureeeeezing out, I don't feel so bad still playing with wool. I finally got around to making a cool little pincushion out of felted sweaters the other day. This little chunk is the Recycled Sweater Pincushion, a project designed by Meshell Taylor from my friends Larissa and Martin Brown's book, Knitalong: Celebrating the Tradition of Knitting Together.

It is such a cool experience to see a book come to life, and over breakfasts and barbecues in the year or so that I've known sweet Larissa, I've gotten to hear about and watch this one happen. Still, seeing the real thing is so different from seeing the page proofs, and finally getting to sit down and read the text is really inspiring — even for a sporadic knitter like me. This is much more than a book of projects, though there are twenty patterns here. It's truly an exploration and a celebration of the history of social knitting, as well as a mosaic of contemporary ways that knitters have come together around the world to knit with each other, even though they may be thousands of miles (and even generations) apart. I love Larissa and Martin's voices in the text — there is something incredibly soothing about this book. I've never done a knitalong, and I am a truly terrible, unreliable joiner, but this book makes me want to play with the group. L & M, you've really done a beautiful job with this topic, capturing the spirit of the individual knitter with her (or his) needles and skein in the context of this incredibly diverse and soulful community. I am so proud of you!

I was on the phone the other day with my friend Betz White, another genius with wool. We talked books, too, as it is so easy to do when you are trying to make a book and spending the vast majority of your time at home alone in your little studio, making things and making a book and not really talking to anyone about it, because it's kind of hard to explain what it's like. There are so many parts and pieces to the experience, it's hard to start from the beginning. If I get someone on the phone who has shared or is in the process of sharing that experience I begin to speed-talk intensely and at such length until the batteries on the phone die (this frequently happens to me). Betz's book Warm Fuzzies: 30 Sweet Felted Projects is so totally adorable, just like Betz. I frist saw Betz on Martha making these cupcakes and they are as cute today as they were the first time I saw them. The pattern is here, along with so many other darling things: a dog sweater, pillows, bags, kid stuff, book covers, hats, an apron. She is now working on her second book, and just updated her Etsy shop today if you want an original!

Inspired by the books, I went downstairs and pulled out my huge box of felted sweater scraps. Then I decided that I had too much, and I would pass some on, along with the calico scraps I mentioned a few weeks ago. So, tomorrow? Let's say, 11 a.m. PST? There are only fourteen half-pound bags of each, the wool and the calico, and there is absolutely no more wool. There is more calico, but I made as many as I could stand to. There's kind of an art to it — you gotta get all the pieces sort of facing out and you want all different pieces and, anyway, not my favorite thing in the world to do. But it always feels good to pass these on — I love the idea of people opening the bags and finding new little things to play with. I'm an inefficient cutter for exactly that reason, I think. I know my mess-ups will be shared and recycled.

Ooo — and I forgot to say thank you for all the kind comments on the tulip pics! Thank you! I wound up entering the tractor (16), the little girl with the hair in her face (3), and the one right below that (2). And if I could ever manage to get a link correct in this blog or on my web sites, it would be a miracle, but check these out — last year's winners. Awesome.

Tulips for Jane

On Sunday, we took little highways out to the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm for their annual tulip festival.

On Sunday morning, after a quick trip to Voodoo Doughnuts and a nice walk in Laurelhurst Park (with some amazing sitting/staying showoffiness at twenty-five yards by Clover Meadow) (just sayin), we wanted to stay out, despite the capricious weather.

Wooden Shoe is about thirty miles south of Portland. If you take the little highways, once you're out of the city you go through beautiful roly-poly countryside freckled with orchards, Shetland ponies, creeks and ponds. I love it out there. I don't think I'll ever be able to get Andy Paulson to live in the country, even the country that's only a half-hour from the city. But I like to pretend it might happen. I always pretend it might happen. Honey, did you not love living in Montana, even more than I did? You did.

It's funny, when I was taking these pictures, the light was bright and I couldn't see much on the LCD screen. I was just kind of snapping here and there, not expecting much. It was so cold that I felt like my fingers weren't working very well.

So I was amazed to see the color on these photos when I uploaded them. It was all there. All of these photos were taken within about a half-hour, and I've posted them in the order I took them. You can see how quickly the light was changing. It was literally changing minute to minute.

They look better if you click on them, and see the enlargements. Which one should I enter into the contest? Will you help me pick?

The color rolls out in long strips. It's a ripple afghan Jane would love.

Here's Clover doing her sit/stay. What a pro.

A windmill.

A tractor.

Beautiful snowy mountains (and rain streaks) far off in the distance.

Isn't it pretty there?

We brought some home. Jane, these are for you, dear.

Peanut Butter Cookies Actually Worked

Our oven, though outfitted with a new element, is still sporadically quitting on us, so the repair man comes on Thursday. In between hissy fits, I managed to keep the temperature at 375 degrees for an afternoon so that I could bake some cookies. For some reason, I have been really wanting these classic peanut-butters with a little bit of strawberry jam. This is the same recipe my mom used — I wonder where it comes from, originally. I rolled mine in sugar, then did the criss-cross, then did what someone in the comments on that recipe suggested and made a little bowl with the back of a 1/4 teaspoon, then blooped the jelly in before baking. I think this is the first thing I've baked in months that actually worked out.

On Saturday afternoon, our friend Amy came over with Clover's boyfriend Bennie, who is a "Cavachon" — a cross between a King Charles Cavalier spaniel and a Bichon Frisee. He looks like a spring-loaded flokati rug. I have never seen a dog bounce like this one. Bennie and Clover have known each other since they were baby puppies and they play very well together. It is hilarious to watch them. They both charged upstairs and Bennie taught Clover to jump onto the bed in one second. This was something she didn't know she was "able" to do.

I made fried corn chowder and garlic bread for lunch. The fried corn chowder comes from Caprial and John's Kitchen. I watched them make this on TV a few months ago and have made it a couple of times since. I've made a lot of different corn chowders and I really like this one — you carmelize the corn before throwing it in the soup at the end. I used frozen white corn and it worked just fine, thought I will say that I prefer using chicken stock to the vegetable stock. Vegetable stock sometimes has a really strong flavor that I don't care for. The chicken stock seems mellower. But you could leave out the bacon and use vegetable stock for a vegetarian option that would still be really great, don't get me wrong. This soup is delicious.

This weather is seriously making me crazy. It's been freezing and raining all week and I am just so over it. It snowed on Saturday, hailed on Sunday. This is the longest winter ever. I want to be in California, near the ocean, laying out by the pool, drinking a Bellini RIGHT NOW!!!!!

Pensive Pansy

It was time to plant the front-porch pots yesterday.

I chose a mix of grapey purples with a bit of honey thrown in.

Clover has been learning to be in the front yard, which is not fenced. She starts off on a long, 30-foot lead.

The idea is that, on this lead, she is free to wander about the property, but we are supposed to correct her from afar when she crosses the boundaries.

In four days, we haven't had an opportunity to to correct anything since she pretty much sticks to us like glitter.

We should probably ask our doggie tutor Steve about that.

Why so pensive, little pansy?

She has a heart of gold and is so sweet and generous, so much like her auntie. So much like her.

It's hard to take photos of black-and-white dogs, I must say. It's hard to get the detail in both those colors to come out well. And you need the eyes, most of all. Sometimes you're lucky and you get the tongue, too.

I have so scored in this marriage: I pick out the plants, arrange them where I want them to go, and then take pictures while Andy Paulson cheerfully plants them all for me. Every year.

I don't enjoy planting things. I enjoy picking them out, arranging them, I'm getting better at watering them, but I don't love the actual stuffing them into a pot or the ground. Andy likes that part, not the picking them out or the thinking about what to get in the first place.

They should have questions like that on Match.com. "Do you like picking pansies out or planting them?" and if you both say "picking them," keep looking. Or know that you'll need to hire a lawn service.

Andy Paulson, while sensitive and literate, also brings considerable brawn to the relationship.

Mmmmwah.

Puppy loves her daddy most of all.

My cup runneth over. xoxo

Audrey Scarf

Over the weekend, I worked on my little headscarf, for the next time I go the park to read in the sun. I don't like to wear hats cause I feel like I can't see anything and then that makes me all panicky. (Neither do I seem to wear sunglasses successfully, for the same reason.) But the triangle headscarf — now you're talking.

The design is a little spray of apple blossoms, done in satin stitch and very teensy backstitches, with cotton embroidery floss. Just a simple outline, my favorite thing. The pattern is from 400 Floral Motifs for Designers, Needleworkers and Craftspeople from Dover, the coolest-ever publisher with so much incredible copyright-free clipart it just makes me want to sob blubberingly. I intend to bind the edges of this with a thin strip olive-drab color binding, and make the ties from that, as well, and tie them under my hair in back, like a bandana.

Though if I could look like this with it tied the other way you know I would never, ever take it off:

Oh, my dear Audreys. You really were the most beautiful, enchanted creatures ever.

The Second Stack

Here are the books I picked out on Friday. What I did was print out all the comments and then start at the beginning and circle everything that looked interesting or that I hadn't read yet. I only made it through maybe the first third. Then I went around the bookstore and pulled everything that they had from my circles, and a couple more that I just thought looked good. Then I sat in the coffee shop (in the bookstore) and very quickly went through the stack and thinned some things out. If anything looked even remotely sad or serious or complicated I didn't want it. I don't like to know too much about books before I read them. Most of my choices are just based on intuition/cover/first page. I don't read book reviews. This is possibly why I am constantly coming home with books that I don't actually like, but that's why I mostly go to the library. I almost never seem to agree with the reviews, anyway. For me, it's best to have a big pile, and no due date. I cannot read my library books on time, generally. I don't like hardcover books, for the most part, and I hate dust jackets. Neither do I like new mass-market paperbacks. They don't open. Old ones are okay — they sort of crack open. I like trade paperbacks printed on nice paper. You can see I have many requirements before I even know what the book's "about." And you thought I was picky about lasagna (which, by the way, I didn't have this weekend, because the oven is still busted. We had shrimp scampi).

Andy is different than I am. I have never known him to do much "light" reading. In the past several years he has read The Canterbury Tales, The Plague, The Aeneid, Beowulf. Frankenstein. Not even kidding. Things the rest of us were forced to read then write papers about. Since he recently survived a period of head-exploding work-related stress, I convinced him to perhaps read something a little less taxing on the gray matter. He picked out several Louis L'Amours and I think he is enjoying them immensely. There really is nothing better, or more relaxing, than losing yourself in a great book, don't you think? I would love to see, like, some research on what people's brainwaves look like when they're reading some fiction they are loving. I bet they're long, loose scallops.

I've finished two books since last week, which is more than I've read in a looooong time, so I am psyched, on a roll. I read Mary Stewart's Rose Cottage, which I loved and was just what I wanted: English village, gypsies, cottages and roses, a second chance at love, mysterious disappearances, missing documents. Thornyhold is next for me. Already it has a witch and a lonely child. Perfect. And I finished Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone, which was brilliant. I've seen that book around for the past several years and probably wouldn't have picked it up had my friend not handed me her copy, but I really loved this memoir, and I will put her other books on my list now, too. She is such an honest writer, economical and evocative with her language.

I realized when I got these books that it has been a long time since I've bought fiction. I am really out of the habit. I miss it. I used to read constantly and this past year I've just made it through a page or two before falling asleep every night. I want to change that this summer. I might need a summer-reading t-shirt, and some stickers. I'm going for quantity here. 

Saturday (and Friday) in the Park

Two days in the park, and it was wonderful. Just what we needed after this long, long winter. Friday it was 70 degrees, Saturday 75. Perfect, perfect weather. We scored our favorite spot in the Rose Garden on Friday after going to Powell's, where we bought fourteen books (we really did buy fourteen books). There was a quilt in the dog's crate in the car so, with stacks of books as pillows, we read for several hours in dappled sunlight under blooming trees. I'll show you the books I got tomorrow. I already finished one of them. That was a great feeling.

Saturday we'd planned to go out to opening day on the farm with Clover Meadow, but it turned out we weren't that ambitious. Instead we just got some sandwiches and cupcakes downtown, and headed back up to the park for the day, this time with a puppy in tow.

Clover is such a good dog. It was really her first big day out, a long day, which included puppy school (she is starting to learn her [20 minute] off-leash stay, and will start off-leash training in the front yard this week), a very crowded downtown farmer's market (did you know they sell homemade organic vanilla pudding there? OMG), and close to four hours of park lounging (studded with a few long walks around the roses). She sat and watched it all, fairly quietly, nibbling and spitting out pine cones, trying very hard not to jump on anyone who came to say hi, mostly just watching the world go by on a beautiful day. She is awesome.

So is Cupcake Jones. This is the Vanilla Pearl. It is basically amazing. It is white velvet cake, with vanilla pastry cream inside, and vanilla buttercream icing. For a vanilla lover like me, it's truly the perfect cupcake.

Isn't she pretty? We had such a good day. I felt like Audrey was there with us, too.

Rice Pudding

Late yesterday I saw that Amy was talking about the very cool cookbook of family recipes she has and that was the perfect inspiration. I had, only hours earlier, been having lunch with my friend Shelly at IKEA, where I bought nothing but three bags of frozen Swedish meatballs, as it is my goal to never be without Swedish meatballs in the freezer. Andy's grandma Helen Thomas wrote out her recipe for rice pudding for me several years ago, but it was only a few months ago, when Andy's mom (Helen's daugher) was here in September, that she told me this rice pudding is not considered a dessert; it is what the Thomases eat with Swedish meatballs. It is amazing that way. Natch, after reading Amy's post and having three bags of meatballs suddenly at hand, I had to make some. This is Helen's recipe as written. I make it just this way, with jasmine rice.

Helen's Rice Pudding

Wash 1 c. rice (not Minute Rice) in ice cold water. Put in double boiler and add 2 c. hot water. Steam rice until dry. Put in large baking bowl. Add 2 more cups of milk and 1 can [sweetened] condensed milk, 3/4 c. sugar, and 4 beaten eggs. Add salt to taste. Sprinkle cinnamon on top and put pieces of butter. Bake in medium oven — 375 degrees about 1 hour, until pudding is firm.

Alas, as I was talking on the phone to my niece who was thanking me for the (awesome) horse stationery I sent her, the preheating electric oven went, "KaPOOOF!" and there was a big flash of light and something blew, I screamed in shock, narrowly avoiding bellowing expletive ["Holy . . . wow!"] into phone at nine-year-old niece.

Fifteen minutes later, my next-door-neighbors, who graciously allowed me to use their oven for my pud and meatballs, thought that the "element" was bad. PERHAPS this explains my crap kitchen karma lately. Or would I just like to think so. Anyway, we have no oven now and must stop and get new heating element on way to Powell's for more books because I want lasagna this weekend, with my reading. Lasagna with a side of reading. I'll read at the table.

Portlanders, do you know about the rice pudding store at Bridgeport Village? Not kidding. All rice pudding. AND GOOD. I meant to tell you about it before. It's called Pudding on the Rice.

Spring Reading

PEOPLE! You rule. I love you. Thank you so much for taking care of me here. There are a lot of books down there that look so good, sooooo good, and I am cheered just reading the list. My intention is to print it out and take it to Powell's. But this week I've been zooming around and the closest I've gotten to books has been Target, and my friend Sarah's house for lunch on Tuesday, and she gave me the Ruth Reichl. I've already finished half of it, which is so unlike me, because I am a pretty slow reader. But I got the other three at Target, and even the checkout lady was like, "You've NEVER read Janet Evanovich??? NEVER???!!!" "Er, no, I know, bad." "I can't believe you've never read Janet Evanovich. NEVER!!! Ooooooh, you are so lucky!"

I know, that's just how I feel. I am psyched. Amazingly, I have actually read a bunch of the stuff that was suggested, but a whole bunch of it I've never even heard of (as above, apparently, I am the last to get with the program) so this is good. I need this. And Leisl, because I love you and because you begged and because you've been reading this blog for two years (sigh, time flies), I may even put them in a list like I did a few years ago (almost to the day — weird) but not for a little bit because I want people to still add to it so I don't miss anything. I need to look at that list and see what I did wind up reading on it (the old one). I might even join one of those booksharing sites. But then I think I already have too many things to do on line and I just want to read. Because, you know all I ever wanted to do was read.

Frothy

The watched-pot theory prevails: I went out yesterday for a half-hour and, naturally, that's when the flowers came. After staring anxiously at the mailbox for a week, I should've known to just look away for a minute. So yay! Everything on its way out now!

On another note, and now that I'm ready to sit down and relax, does anyone have any recommendations for some fun, light reading? Novels, but nothing heavy? Something for spring? Romance? Villages? Mystery? Humor? Help. My nightstand is groaning under the depressing reads I've got going — none of it intentional, but still. I need some froth. Got anything for me?

Scrambling

Hey, it's me! Hi!

Still here, just scrambling, but it's okay. Most of the domestically shipped doll kits and dolls are out now, with a big batch mailed late Friday. The international orders and anything that came in after the 18th are still here with me, but those will leave in the next few days, and I really am sorry about the delay. The wired flowers that make up the small bouquets comes from overseas themselves, and the reorder hasn't arrived yet — stuck in customs? — but everyday I wait with baited breath for the flowers to come, and I really really hope to see them today. If they do, all of these orders will go out tomorrow. So, my apologies for the delay, but it's all happening, I promise.

I think I will be building longer lead times into these kits in the future — just a whole lot of stuff has to happen to get them out, and sometimes I can't control those delays. And yes, there will be more kits made available (sorry I haven't gotten to all those inquiring emails yet, but I will do that, too) — just as soon as these all go out successfully, and I take a shower, I'll put them back in my web shop. For I do want every man, woman, and child around the globe to make a clothespin doll. I really do. It's that much fun.

When people say to me, as they will, "But what do you do with them?" I just look at them like this:

" .  .  . "

Like that. I'm just like, "I don't understand the question."

And that works. Usually does.

I should do that more often.

Lounge Lessons

There was some resting over the weekend.

It's a  busy week around here, so I'll be taking a bit of a break while I get orders out, look at the book one last time, do our taxes, and possible even get a little rest. We have this dog that would like nothing more than to sit on a warm lap all the livelong day.

Guess where she learned that one.

My Signs of Spring

Camellia, leaving.

Like lilypads.

Petalwalk, with foxglove fronds.

Shy-lings.

My neighbor's tree, an umbrella of cherry-blossom froth.

And her backyard, from the sidewalk, through the fence.

Another neighbor, and a breezeway gate to a cherry-foam explosion.

Clover in clover.

My miracles, clematis.

Oh, Scrap!

I thought this looked pretty, all these little calico croissants, stacked and waiting. That little rotary cutter has had a workout, and you know what that means? SCRAPS. The scrap basket is exploding. Overflowing. All the scraps from the book and from these kits — mostly all cotton prints, calicos, ginghams — I think I'll bundle them up again and put little bags of them in my web shop after I get the kits shipped out. I think the scraps are pretty good, better than the ones I had last time. I'm trying to stay more in control of the areas of the house that are overflowing. It's driving me crazy. (Added later, after reading the comments: Please note: The photo above shows the fabric bundles cut and ready to go into the doll-pin kits, NOT the scraps. The scraps from leftover from these bundles will be made available but they will look like they were first thrown across the room and then tossed in the salad spinner. They will not look like croissants. Just sayin. I won't be folding the scraps. I'm crazy but not that crazy.)

Today I'm hanging out with my friend Marlene, who I knew ten years ago when we both worked together at GACPC. Marlene is the editor of Beadwork magazine now, in town for the Bead Expo this week. I hope I get time to go to that this weekend, too! My house is a total mess. We did go for a walk yesterday after dinner. The light was amazing. The sun was setting and it was raining at the same time — rainbow conditions, and I did see one very faint one on the way home. I will be interested to see the photos, since they were mostly taken in the rain, while wearing my glasses, which were absolutely dripping, so I couldn't actually see anything, etc. But I did point the camera around at stuff, so I'll have to upload those pictures later and see what develops. I tried to take a picture of Clover standing next to a clump of clover but she was zigzagging all over the place like, "What are we doing!!! GO!!!" Bossy miss. I need to set my ISO to 1600 to get that dog. I hope I was able to get that glowy light, though. You never know. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don't. It was yellow and gray. Love that.

A Dogwalk, Later

This season feels like sort of an interlude. Spring comes slowly, in a way — it's green but cold; it's sunny but muddy; it's lighter out later, but we're still not outside. All around town big clumps of daffodils cheer me, and I plan, once again, to plant some in September. Why don't I ever do that? Eight years in this house, and the only bulbs I've planted were a few pink tulips, in the wrong place, later to be replaced with candytuft and sweet woodruff. But this year we have a fence, and I have visions of little, nodding drifts of pale yellow greeting me on the house-side of  the pickets, so I must make a note to myself to remember how pretty these daffodils look right now, and do it right this fall.

I did get a daffodil-yellow spring coat this year (from the Gap; the umbrella is very old, from sadly now-gone Daisy Kingdom) that is making me happy. I'm ready for my dogwalk. Our girl Clover Meadow has gotten so big; I'm hoping we'll get out today and I'll take her picture. Last night her boyfriend Bennie came over for a playdate. They romped, a small tornado, through the house for fifteen minutes until Bennie found a bone that he liked better than he liked Clover. Clover was flabbergasted. She did everything she could to get his attention, including clambering on top of him, then lying four feet away and barking in his face (this dog has the loudest bark I have ever heard), then just looking with total bewilderment at us — what was this guy's problem? Couldn't we see? Bones are boring! Sigh.

Today we'll take a walk and see what's blooming; the magnolias are starting to unfurl as the daffodils turn crepe-y and gold. I hope we can get into the woods this weekend. There's so much to do all the time that we forget to go, or it's pouring rain on Sunday, or who knows what. Before I can rub my eyes and blink in wonder a whole season has lapsed and I've only been around the block a few dozen times. But I'd like to go out and see some little snowdrops, wild violets, maybe find a four-leaf clover. I'd like to get out of the neighborhood a little bit.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

About a year ago now, maybe, Jane sent me one of her favorite books, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson, published by the fantastically wonderful Persephone Books. I saw the preview for the movie on TV a few weeks ago and couldn't wait to see it. This sweet confection was so worth the wait and just what I needed! I highly recommend it. And I want hair just like Delycia's. Notice that the color of her suit here is Persephone grey? Double-delish.

Last week was crazy! I can't believe it's Monday already. Thank you again for all the orders — we have close to 200 to fill this week, so things will be busy busy around here. I closed all the orders on Friday afternoon, but I will make the kits and probably a few dolls available again after we catch up here. I want to make sure I can get everything out by the date I promised and we'll be hard pressed this time! So, when I'm all caught up I'll take an inventory and put at least the kits back in the shop. Thank you!

I have all sorts of catching-up things to do today. We need groceries desperately. I have to go to the library. But all I can think of is making a random-square patchwork quilt out of every one of these. Wouldn't that be the prettiest thing in the world? I can't stop thinking about it. Naturally, when I have absolutely no time for such things. Isn't that always the way. There must be a reason for that. As soon as your mind is occupied with something else, these little flowers come creeping in.