It’s Furious Balancing

I made banana nut bread yesterday — from a brand spanking new recipe — that turned out really, really well.  You lucky devils get the details because, in the spirit of Blogtoberfest, I know you don’t care what I had for lunch today.

The base recipe is on allrecipes.com at this clicky linky thing here.  I added a few things (vanilla, pecans) but the credit and adulation should go to the recipe’s author — Shelley Albeluhn.  It turns out wonderfully moist and flavorful.

Banana Banana Pecan Bread

Ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• ½ cup (i.e., 1 stick) butter, room temperature
• ¾ cup brown sugar
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten
• 3 large overripe bananas, mashed
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ½ cup pecans, chopped (or walnuts, or no nuts if you’re not a nut person)

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F (175° C).  Lightly grease a 9×5 inch loaf pan, or whatever normal-size loaf pan you have.
2. In a large bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt.  In a separate bowl, cream together butter and brown sugar.  Stir in eggs, mashed bananas, and vanilla.  Stir banana mixture into flour mixture, stirring just to moisten.  Fold in pecans and pour mixture into prepared loaf pan.
3. Bake in preheated oven for 60-65 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into center of loaf comes out clean.  Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto wire rack to complete cooling.  Let cool completely before slicing and devouring.  Om nom nom nom.

I like this recipe much better than the recipe in the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, that uses, of all things, Crisco/vegetable shortening.  Ew.  That shouldn’t go in banana bread.  Srsly.

Bon appétit!

Knitting women… chuckled when they heard that FBI agents, ever on the lookout for agents of unfriendly powers with subversive pamphlets, apprehended a woman passenger on an incoming liner whose papers included such scribbled notations as “K2, p4, k6,” and demanded a translation of the code to which the vast State Department Library had no key.

No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting
Chapter 14 — The Forties: Knitting in War and Peace
Anne L. Macdonald

I’ve been on a Victorian literature kick lately.  It started with Drood, which led me to Wilkie Collins‘ The Woman in White and The Moonstone, which took me to Inside the Victorian Home: A Portrait of Domestic Life in Victorian England, which somehow took me into the village of Cranford.

It’s a slender volume that  “recounts the events and activities in the lives of a group of spinsters and widows who struggle in genteel poverty to maintain their standards of propriety, decency, and kindness.”  It’s much more entertaining than that sounds.

I had not heard of Elizabeth Gaskell until now, and I have to say I admire her writing style a great deal.  Here’s a bit I particularly enjoyed:

[E]very lady took the subject uppermost in her mind and talked about it to her own great contentment, but not much to the advancement of the subject they had met to discuss….I asked Miss Pole what was the very last thing they had ever heard about [Peter], and then she named the absurd report to which I have alluded, about his having been elected Great Lama of Thibet; and this was a signal for each lady to go off on her separate idea.

Mrs. Forrester’s start was made on the veiled prophet in Lalla Rookh – whether I thought he was meant for the Great Lama, though Peter was not so ugly, indeed rather handsome, if he had not been freckled…. [I]n a moment, the delusive lady was off upon Rowlands’ Kalydor, and the merits of cosmetics and hair oils in general, and holding forth so fluently that I turned to listen to Miss Pole, who (through the llamas, the beasts of burden) had got to Peruvian bonds, and the share market, and her poor opinion of joint-stock banks in general….

In vain I put in “When was it – in what year was it that you heard that Mr. Peter was the Great Lama?” They only joined issue to dispute whether llamas were carnivorous animals or not; in which dispute they were not quite on fair grounds, as Mrs. Forrester…acknowledged that she always confused carnivorous and graminivorous together, just as she did horizontal and perpendicular; but then she apologized for it very prettily, by saying that in her day the only use people made of four-syllabled words was to teach how they should be spelt.

I was never aware that llamas were carnivorous (and I had to look up graminivorous).  Perhaps the Monty Python troupe was correct.

If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.  ~Buddhist saying

I’m applying this thought to my knitting today.  I’m at the very beginning of two rather lengthy projects and need the Positive Self Talk.

Project One is the new incarnation of Socks for The Husband.  The first attempt was too loose after the calf, so I frogged it.  I hadn’t gotten very far along when I (wisely) thought I should have him try it on.  Since I’ve only knit socks for myself, I kept looking at the few inches of ribbing I’d done,  thinking — This looks awfully big.  Is it really big or do I only imagine it’s too big because he’s got Giganto Feetz? When in doubt, try the thing on.  Ripping back part of a sock is much preferable than ripping out an entire sock.

This new sock-knitting attempt is from a recently published pattern — Oliver — that I discovered when catching up on Franklin’s blog.  There’s some unique shaping going on in the gusset and arch that is supposed to help the socks “fit like a glove.”  I can get behind that. I think it’s worth $7.00 if I get a pair of socks that actually fit him.

I’m currently in the “work in k2p2 ribbing until leg measures eight inches or desired length” bit.  This is my mindless take-to-work knitting, or the designated project to work on while surfing the Innernets/watching a DVD/sitting in a waiting room.

Project Two is Hanami. This is going to be a Magnum Opus.  I’m 13 rows into what’s an approximately 500-row pattern.  This is fussy lace knitting with lots and lots of charts.  If I can work a few rows each day, I’ll know I’ll get an FO out of it eventually — a drop-dead gorgeous, awe-inspiring, phenomenal FO at that.  I’m glad I gave myself a self-imposed time limit of a year to complete it.

Yep. Put one foot in front of the other. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I am not dead.  In fact, if I were dead, I suspect I would be feeling much better than I do at the moment.

I also seem to have lost my Knitting Mojo.  I have cast on and frogged 3-4 projects in the same number of days.  If you happen to see my Knitting Mojo, please send it my way.

I’m calling in sick on the Obligatory Blogtoberfest post today.  I’ve got a fever and I’m feeling really, really rotten.  If I’m dead tomorrow, I’ll let you know.

Pattern: Mitered Mittens,  The Knitter’s Almanac (May), Elizabeth Zimmermann

Yarn: Noro Kureyon, Color 265

Needles: US Size 6

Size: Children’s Large/Ladies’ XS.  I started with a cast on of 40 stitches.  After 5 rows of 1×1 ribbing, I decreased 4 stitches evenly on the first knit row, and worked on 36 stitches until the decreases at the top of the mitten.  They fit me very snugly, so I’m imagining these for a 8-12 year old girl.

Mods:  The gusseted thumb.  EZ’s pattern calls for an “afterthought” thumb.   After finishing the mitten, you’re supposed to snip a few stitches where you think the thumb should go and pick up stitches for it.  That was way too haphazard for me, even with my l33t steeking and yarn snipping skillz.

I found a write-up for a gusseted thumb on Kathryn Ivy’s blog, and did a 12-stitch thumb.   Putting the thumb on the side, I think, keeps the “spirit” of the EZ mittens, in that they can be worn on either hand. 

They were a quick and easy knit, and the color changes in the Noro kept me entertained.  I am easily amused by self-striping yarn — I do not deny it.

I’ve decided, quite on the spur of the moment, to participate in Blogtoberfest.

Yes, it is at bad as it sounds.  A blog post every day during the month of October.  If you feel compelled to point out to me that today is October 3rd, thank you.  I already know that, and the “rules” say you can begin on any day, including October 30th.

I’ve been in this gray, inchoate place in my mind with regard to blogging.  I think of things to write about, certainly.  I  never actually work up the energy to craft a post, or it just turns into a Facebook update. I’m growing weary of this and figure I need a kick in the pants to get me up and running, or rather, blogging.

I’m hoping I will be able to write a few things this month that aren’t “what I had for lunch today” posts.

I have far too many things I want to knit.

I’ll say right upfront that it has nothing to do with knitting 23 holiday gifts for my family, friends, co-workers, UPS delivery person, Xerox repair guy, or mailman.  I hear about a lot of knitters freaking out when the colder weather hits and the Christmas tree displays and muzak appear in the stores on the day after Halloween. 

I also hear about a lot of knitters who are stunned when their knitted gifts aren’t received with enthusiasm — or even politeness.  I read some time ago that the only people you should give knitted gifts to are other knitters (because they know how much time and energy you’ve put into a scarf or a pair of socks).

I knit for myself, for the most part.  The current exceptions to this rule are:

• A pair of socks for The Husband, which will take forever and a day since he has humungous Man Feet.  Really now, who has an 11 1/2 inch foot?  I knit for him because, well, because he’s my husband and I love him (humungous Man Feet and all).
• A Baby Surprise Jacket for a service knitting project.
• A pair of Eden fingerless gloves for HunterXan.  They’ve been hibernating a long time. I put them on the list, though, because they’ve been haunting me.  I do have the leaf edging parts done, so they count as a WIP for another person.

Only a highly select and vetted group of people receive  handknits from me, so this overwhelming urge to cast on half a dozen new projects has nothing to do with a pre-holiday knitted-gift anxiety attack.  It has more to do with my idée fixe that I need enough winter accessories to outfit the Scott expedition.

Here’s what I’m working on for myself at the moment:

• The fuchsia Catriona cabled vest.  I’m about 8 rows before the point where I divide for the V-neck, but it’s slow going.
• A cabled beret that’s absolutely perfect for the mink/cashmere yarn I bought not too long ago.  Yes, mink.  And before anyone pulls a PETA blood-throwing stunt, the minks aren’t killed for their fur.  They’re shaved, or shorn rather, like sheep.  There’s a whole ‘nuther blog post in here so I will just leave it at that for now.

And here’s the list of what I want to cast on RIGHT NOW DAMMIT:

• Ysolda’s Snapdragon Tam.  I love just about everything Ysolda designs, and when I discovered a new hat, it went to the top of my To Knit list immediately.
• The Hanami Stole.  It’s been on my Ravelry queue for almost two years, and I think I finally have the skill — or the chutzpah — to try it.  I even have the yarn at the ready:

• Thrummed Mittens.  I live in Michigan.  These will be unquestionable necessities in about 3 months.
• A pair of fingerless gloves in a fine enough gauge to wear at the office.  I need to start wearing something to keep my fingernails from turning purple.  The pattern is not yet determined, but the need and motivation is there.
• Elizabeth Zimmerman’s mitered mittens, maybe done in this shade of Noro Kureyon:

I think if I give up sleeping, I can get all of these projects — and some more service knitting — done before the end of the year.

That’s a joke, by the way.

Oh my name it is nothin’
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I was taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.

I am distressed that this day has been designated “Patriot’s Day.”  I feel that today has very little to do with patriots.  Today is the anniversary of when the definition of patriotism changed.

Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalry charged
The Indians fell
The cavalry charged
The Indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.

To be a patriot in the early years after 9-11 meant that you didn’t ask questions.  It meant that you didn’t search for the facts — let alone the truth — of what happened.  It meant that you never thought about why it happened.  It was far too complicated to look at the history of U.S. interference in the Middle East when you could be satisfied with  “They did it because they hate freedom.”

Oh the First World War, boys
It closed out its fate
The reason for fighting
I never got straight
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don’t count the dead
When God’s on your side.

To be a New Patriot meant you thought the Geneva Conventions were optional.  To be a New Patriot meant you condoned the use of torture.

But now we got weapons
Of  chemical dust
If fire them we’re forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God’s on your side.

To be a New Patriot meant you believed that the erosion of civil liberties was acceptable.  To be a New Patriot meant you felt the slaughter of persons who had absolutely nothing to do with 9-11 was a point of pride.

In a many dark hour
I’ve been thinkin’ about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can’t think for you
You’ll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side.

It disgusts me beyond measure that the 2,974 people who died on this day are “honored” with such an empty, hollow word.  We need to call today by a different name.

September 1st.

Even though the kids aren’t officially Back to School and Labor Day is still ahead of us, this is the first indication that summer is over.  I made it through another one. Thank you and Hallelujah.

This particular summer was not too intolerable.  The Powers That Be decided it was time for a cycle of cooler temperatures and more rain.  Even though I feel a (little) bad for the gardeners whose tomatoes never turned red, I enjoyed the respite this year.  Michigan summers can be a particularly awful mix of heat and humidity.  Thank you, Powers That Be.  I owe you one.

I can feel parts of my brain coming back online.  I tend to shut down during June-July-August; sometimes getting through a work week all boiled down to my putting one foot in front of the other and my self talk.  My mantra became Sufficient unto each day is the evil thereof.  If I’m breathing, I’m winning.  One day follows another, and eventually it’s September.  In a week or two, I’ll be able to go outside without cringing.

Another Finished Object:

Pattern:  Noro Striped Scarf, by brooklyntweed.

Yarn:  Noro Silk Garden, 2 skeins each of colorways 264 and 279, with maybe 20 yards (total) left over.  I much prefer the Silk Garden for this scarf over the Kureyon.  It’s softer and has a nicer drape.

Needles:  Denise Interchangeable Needles, US size 8.  The Silk Garden is more slippery than the Kureyon, so a stickier needle was is order.

Size:  Before blocking, 72′ by 5 ½’.  After blocking, 78′ by 5½’ .  Long enough to wrap twice and tie in front.

I think I’ve got the Norovirus out of my system. I picked up the fuchsia cabled vest yesterday, having suddenly realized that I want to wear it this fall, which will be here soon (fingers crossed). Very soon.

This happens every year — the excessive heat, light, and humidity go away, and my mood and energy level increase a hundredfold.  I sleep better.  I don’t snarl as much.  My skin clears up.  I get to laugh at all the people who whine about winter coming.  I decide it would be Bad Form to stand on the corner and chant “Neener Neener Neener” at the kids on the school buses.  Life is very good.

So, do I read Cheney’s memoir when it comes out?  I’m certain it will have me frothing at the mouth, yelling obscenities, flinging it against the wall, and stomping on it until the pages fall out.  Then again, that would be the most exercise I’d have gotten for quite some time.  Aerobic Righteous Indignation.