Winter Time Beading

I've been given quite a few craft books to review and some of them are quite good but this one (Stringing Style 2) is great.  In fact, of all the other bead and jewelry making books I've got this one is the best and to prove it here's the necklace I made from its pages.
It's a bunch of green and green-brown pearls with greeny-brownish crystals strung between curved silver beads to make it look like a grapevine and I love it.

Here's a shot of it that isn't quite so subtly blurry (you didn't know that was a haute-couture photography technique did you? Well it is. Kind of).


The trickiest part is getting those curved beads because they didn't have any on hand here in town. Etsy is a great resource for that kind of thing.

Mine were slightly longer than the ones the book called for so I only needed 21 instead of 23 but you get the general idea.

Oh, and P.S. it seems to be warming up a bit. Maybe Spencer will get to have his ski meet after all.

And as for other artistic endeavors, here's a video I saw this morning that was not only interesting but fun to watch. I love new animation techniques--I think if I could have had my high school experience animated I would have retained a great deal more of the information.

Deep into January

As I sit here at the computer I can hear the grinding groan of the snow ploughs in the street--the snow has been piled up deep enough on the sides of the road that it's making it hard to get around so the ploughs come along, scrape the snow from the sides into one big three-foot berm down the middle of the road, then a front-end loader comes along and scoops up the row of snow into the waiting dump truck.

They haul it off and dump it in spots around town, creating ramps of snow up the sides of the piles for the dump trucks to crawl up and unload, until the mountains grow so high they're as big as three-story buildings.  As spring comes they melt and all the dirt mixed into the snow remains behind, settling on top until the piles look like mountains of gravel and you'd never guess that under that gigantic mass there is enough snow to cover the state of Rhode Island (which isn't much of an exaggeration--there are glaciers around here that could easily cover the place). The last of the piles finally melt some time around the end of June.

I just took this picture out of the front window and it's about 10 o'clock here--still dusky and dim but clear and cold.  My thermometer is reading -3 degrees and Spencer is concerned about his ski meet tomorrow.  He's concerned two ways: unless things warm up to -1 they'll cancel the race.  It's the first meet of the season and he's ready to get out there so he doesn't want it scrapped but the thought of skiing in -1 is a bit more than he wants to tackle.  Either way, canceled race or not, he's going to have a tough time of it.

January is hitting hard.  We're in a cold snap and it's so dark and deep that I'm wondering why I ever decided to live here.  My toes and fingers are perpetual icicles and I sleep with five blankets on the bed.  I've put off going out to the mailbox for four days now--and when I finally went out this morning the box was covered with an inch of standing crystals and my finger froze to the metal when I lifted the lid. And as I was driving home yesterday the sun caught the ice crystals suspended in the frigid air and treated them just as if they were raindrops, making a shimmering, disturbingly cold rainbow of ice in the air above me.

But I've been promised by reputable sources that things should get better. We gained 4 minutes, 32 seconds of daylight over yesterday and January is the low point in the season--it's all downhill from here and if I can only make it to April I'll be home free.

Meanwhile, I've got my flowers inside and enough hot chocolate to last to spring.  If I can only remember to think warm thoughts.

Some Biographies for the New Year

So are you exercising and getting in shape? Last fall I bought a second hand stationery bike (or is it stationary? I can't remember the difference between the two and it makes the difference between a bike that doesn't move and a bike you write on) to strengthen my knee and I kind of got hooked on it.  I love being able to read while I'm riding (but not writing--that would definitely be a stationary bike) and I've found that I'm 86% more likely to exercise if I've got a good book to read.

My sister gave me an audio copy of A Treasury of Foolishly Forgotten Americans: Pirates, Skinflints, Patriots and Other Colorful Characters Stuck in the Footnotes of History by Michael Farquhar (an editor at the Washington Post, not the villain in Shrek, as at first I thought) and it got me through many miles. It's not exactly history from the David McCoullough-style professorial heaviness but darn it, I liked it.

Each of the short chapters is dedicated to a different character--the kind so interesting and freakishly bizarre as to make Sarah Palin, Howard Stern, Paris Hilton, Dennis Rodman and the Unibomber look calm and well-adjusted--with the only rule being that they must be relatively unknown and unlauded and all the while proving, once again, that the 20th century does not have a monopoly on crazy.

Politicians, thieves, pirates, would-be royalty, they're all there and ready for your amusement and guaranteed to keep you riding an extra mile on your bike as if you were lingering in front of the tabloids at the supermarket check-out line.  And better than the tabloids, with this book you actually get a dose of real history in there along with the entertainment.  It wouldn't be a bad way to introduce kids (I'm thinking preteens and older) to some of the more interesting parts of our national history and get them to learn a little something along the way.

The other audio book I listened to was 10 Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Bly (which you can get for free various places online).

One of the first female reporters, Nellie Bly--along with her editor--contrived to get herself commited to an asylum for the insane in turn-of-the-century New York City. Forget that she was a woman and unused to such things or that asylums weren't quite what they are today or that if it was such a good idea why didn't her editor take the assignment himself--as you listen to her story in her own words you can't help but be impressed with her bravery and spirit.  (Though I think she had to be a bit crazy to get herself thrown in there with only her editor's word that he'd be able to get her released after ten days were up.)

Bly did it to report on the condition of the mentally ill and does so with vivid and honest reports which were eventually helpful in bringing needed reforms and improved living conditions for those who couldn't help themselves.

Bly's experiences on Blackwell's Island among the female inmates was serialized in The World but as it aroused so much interest, controversy and disgust she received many requests to produce her story in one contained volume.  The result is a short read (about six or seven hours of listening) that follows her from the idea's inception, through her commitment and time in the justice system, through her time in custody and finally to her release.

The narrative is old-fashioned and stilted but that doesn't diminish the story or Bly's bravery. Not only is it a sad record of the plight of the insane but a startling reminder of how far women's rights have come in the intervening years.  A good lesson in sociology and history as well as a good read for the sake of a story.

A Plethora of Good News

Can you tell I'm happy? Last week was filled with check ups and doctor visits, mostly routine stuff for the kids, except that I finally got back to the surgeon after so many months of knee exercises.

If you recall, when I saw him last summer after my knee injury he'd sent me to the physical therapist, preparatory to surgery on my ACL and meniscus.  I was rather depressed about the whole thing and since then when I haven't been whining about the prospect of being chopped up in major surgery I've been on the stationary bike or doing lunges to try and avoid what seemed to be the inevitable conclusion to my sad, mid-life story.

Meanwhile Andrew began skiing again, taking Spencer and David and Grace instead of me and I was quite bitter about it all but last week I went back to the doctor to see how things had come along and if I were finally ready for surgery.  I was not-so-secretly hoping he'd say it was a miracle and that I was cured.

Which is exactly what he said.  He twisted and poked and pressed and came to the conclusion that my joint and ligaments were fine and that I was free to ski whenever I chose.

WOOOHOOO!

Of course Grace will be the disappointed one because she's been using my skis while I've been out of commission. Now I want them back, thank you very much.

It was a fine conclusion to a medically-charged week.  In honor, I knitted a brand-new ski hat as you see here which David promptly coveted and asked me to duplicate for him--but without the girly colors and "weird stripe things" around it.

We've also been sewing doll clothes for Lillian's new doll, Marian, which she got for Christmas, and I've been trying to get up the interest in ever cooking again after all that holiday baking and gorging.  I'm sure I'll make a real dinner again. Maybe.

In other happy news, thank you to Inc. Magazine for the interview and article they did about working from home that featured Scribbit.  Andrew's comment was (and said with a bit of amazement), "But I actually read Inc." (as opposed to other places I've been mentioned that he doesn't read?? I'm flattered).  And also thank you to Apartment Therapy for the post on my blueberry soup recipe. That's a great recipe--perfect for when you've got a day of skiing.

Woohoo!

World's BEST Potato Salad with Comeback Sauce

I know this isn't exactly a Weight Watchers delight and would probably best be posted in the summer (because isn't that the proper time to be enjoying potato salad?) but honestly, this is the BEST potato salad that will ever bless your tastebuds. The word "bless" is not an understatement.

I saw the recipe on Prissy Green and her superlatives intrigued me. I printed it off and set it aside, wondering if it possibly could be a recipe great enough to induce my husband to eat potato salad. Let's just say he's not a fan.

Anyway, along came our yearly family Christmas party, where the women bring Fabulous Salads of Wonder for the females and the men pig out on meat and sugar and the kids drink their body weight in soda.  It's a great system I tell you.  Having been assigned to bring a salad I decided to break the single greatest commandment of cooking: Thou shalt not experiment with new recipes upon thy guests as thou art begging for destruction (or at least abundant embarrassment). But true to her word, Prissy Green's brag that this would be the most talked about dish at the table was completely fulfilled--in a good way. Even Andrew said he liked it.

The key to the dish is (besides lots of fatty bacon) is roasting the potatoes and using the famous southern Comeback Sauce. I think Prissy got the salad recipe from a Comeback Sauce recipe book or label or something like that but I just googled "comeback sauce recipe" to make my own. The sauce takes approximately five million ingredients (give or take) and if you name a condiment in your kitchen I can pretty much guarantee it's in there but that's what makes it so magical.  I can't find the site where I got the sauce recipe anymore, but I've simplified it a bit and here's my version. Enjoy.

Potato Salad:
3 pounds small red potatoes, in 1-inch cubes
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon kosher salt
4 slices bacon, crisp and crumbled
1 cup diced sweet onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 tablespoons Comeback Sauce
1 1/2 tablespoons honey
1 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

Combine potatoes, olive oil, pepper and salt in a bowl and toss to combine. Bake in a single layer on a cookie sheet at 400 degrees for 40 minutes or until tender and slightly browned. Cook bacon until crisp, reserving drippings. Crumble into a bowl and add potatoes. Cook onion in bacon grease until soft and translucent (on low heat is best, high heat makes onions more bitter).

Carmelize onions then add garlic and cook a half minute more. Remove from heat and let stand 15 minutes. Add onion and garlic to bowl with potatoes and bacon and toss gently to keep potatoes in tact.  Let stand another 15 minutes. While waiting, combine Comeback Sauce, honey, vinegar and parsley in a bowl and mix well. Toss with potato mix and serve immediately.

*Note: for a party-sized bowl I doubled the recipe. I liked it served at room temperature or slightly warm but it wouldn't be bad cold either.

Comeback Sauce
3 cloves of minced garlic
1 medium sweet onion
1 cup mayonnaise (not Miracle Whip though I used light mayo)
1/2 cup chili sauce
1/2 cup ketchup
1/4 cup dijon mustard
1/4 cup yellow mustard
1/8 teaspoon tabasco
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/8 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons water
dash of salt

Puree garlic, onion and mayo in blender, add the rest of the ingredients and puree until smooth. Chill overnight to meld flavors.

Someone Sent Me This Link . . .

After reading my post yesterday on the frustrations of flaky teachers my sister sent me this link along with an explanation: Williamsburg Academy is an online, accredited high school that offers video classes and mentoring for a fee.

Now as I said yesterday, I'm not ready to throw the towl in on our neighborhood high school (yet).  If you are careful as to which teachers you request you can have a good experience--but there are times, such as this semester, when getting a dud is unavoidable.  Grace loves the humanities but instead of learning about arts and letters she's cutting numbers and walking like a sloth.  According to my sister, Carinne, Williamsburg is great for those who are homeschooling and want the benefits of a classroom setting but what I'm thinking is that it would also be a great tool for supplementing in situations such as Grace is facing.

At this point Grace is close enough to her entrance exams and final semester that it wouldn't make a lot of sense for us but for Spencer or David I may very well use it.  It's not cheap--live classes where you can interact with other students and with the teacher are $200 and recorded classes $100 but they study real things and don't get mired in touchy-feely, off-beat activities. If you have a child that is self-motivated and you've got the computer/internet capabilities then it might be a good option.

Anyway, Carinne says her friends who have used the site have all had good things to say about it so right there it's got a better track record than many of our local schools and bears looking into.

No Sloth Left Behind

The kids have been in school for a week and already Grace is grumbling about her new humanities class.

Apparently "humanities" means something completely different from when I was in school.  No, it doesn't mean studying the fine arts and culture around us--just in case there was any confusion on that point.

They've been assigned to read The Life of Pi.  I'm not sure why they're reading a novel in a humanities class (when I took humanities it was a lot of music and sculpture and painting and whatnot) and I have no idea why they're reading that particular novel, which seems to have about as much to do with humanities as my big toe but as if that weren't enough of a puzzler their first class activity was to cut out and design numbers. Big numbers. As in "pi." Each person took a different digit and they made their number big and pretty and then put them together to make pi. Probably because that activity is too stupid and irrelevant to be part of any math curriculum past . . . oh, I don't know . . . 1st grade????

Makes sense to me.

And then as a follow up to that humanities-related activity they decided to study sloths.  Help me out with this as I've not read the book but apparently in the book there is a sloth so the teacher told them to get their sloth moves on and to  . . . walk. . . very . . . slowly . . . like . . . a . . . sloth . . . and  . . .  get . . . down . . . the . . . school . . . stairs . . . in . . . no . . . less . . . than . . . twenty . . . minutes.

For heaven's sake she's got the SAT in two months! And they're playing sloth [here's me smacking my hand to my forehead].

Why did I decide not to homeschool you ask? Probably because things were going so well up until she hit high school and even then it's hit and miss as to whether you get a gem of a teacher [standing up and applauding Mr. Wright, Mrs. DePalatis and Mr. Kemper with every ounce of my strength] or a dud like Captain Sloth Lover here.  Grace knew what she was getting into though, this class was the only one she could fit into her schedule and the teacher is the sister of one of her past English teachers. The one who allowed a student to make a throne out of hockey sticks as his project on the Renaissance.

Sigh.  Where is the Spanish Inquisition when you need it?

Go Steelers

I don't know if football was as big a part of your Christmas as it was here but for someone who doesn't like the game I sure end up having a lot of football around me. The kids are already starting to throw around predictions about who's going to win the Superbowl, usually peppered with comments about how great Tim Tebow and Michael Vick are. Some are saying the Saints will make it again, some are praying about how nice it would be if only the Rams could win. Me? I'm just happy they're all enjoying an activity that doesn't require me to drive anyone anywhere.

During any given dinnertime in our house you can be assured of hearing the subject of football come up at least once until I’ve actually come to be moderately conversant in the language as you can see from the following completely true exchange that happened a few weeks ago.

“What’s your favorite NFL team, Mom?” David asked.

“Huh? Oh I don’t have a favorite. Pass the salt, please.”

“No, come on—what’s your favorite team?” he persisted.

“I told you I don’t have one.”

“But you’ve got to have a favorite. Or at least one you like a bit better than the others.”

“Why? Who says? I don’t have a favorite. None of the teams are in Alaska.”

“But Lillian likes the Colts, Dad likes the Broncos, Grace likes the Jets, Spencer likes the Chargers, I like the Saints . . . you have to have a team too.”

“But I don’t have a favorite.”

At this point, once he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he started to beg me to reveal my favorite color combinations that he might thereby discern my favorite team but I was onto him and I was really starting to enjoy his discomfort over the whole issue.

“Come on Mom—pick your favorite!”

Now I could have admitted that I vaguely think Drew Brees is cool and gone with New Orleans but I was feeling particularly ruthless. “Okay,” I said, shrugging and pretending to give up, “The Steelers.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

All five Mittons dropped their forks and screamed as one in horror.

“Heh,” I thought, “That’ll teach ‘em.”

I know just enough to know which teams I’m not supposed to like and which team would produce the most panic. Which is why I then thoroughly enjoyed rambling through a discourse about Troy Polamalu being the best, the VERY best safety in the NFL (hey, if I’m going to promote the Steelers I have to at least pick someone I can stomach).

They don’t ask me much about the NFL anymore. Go Saints! I mean--Go Steelers!

Welcome 2011

Finally I'm back at the keyboard after a wonderful Christmas where we were so relaxed and laid-back that we ended up having Christmas dinner buffet-style in front of the television.  If you knew us you'd realize how crazy that is--we always eat at the table and TV is never part of the ambiance but it felt so good to do something different and relaxing after all those wonderful parties and dinners and get-togethers. (If that's how we go crazy around here we're pretty pathetic, huh?) And it felt good.

Then for New Year's Eve we went north.  After nearly a month of temperatures hovering around zero things decided to warm up here in Anchorage with one of our random bursts of warm air from Hawaii so we escaped north to my parents' cabin where it was a perfectly balmy 30 degrees. Perfect for snowmachining and perfect for fireworks.

Thirty degrees and plenty of snow as you can see from the picture where Andrew is snow-blowing out a path to the well so we can rev up the water pump (you can see the sun getting close to setting and it was only about 2pm or so). David followed behind him with a cinnamon roll, faithfully feeding his father every few steps whenever the man got too famished and weak to go any farther.

Must . . . have . . . cinnamon . . . roll . . .

Then that night we brought out the fireworks.  It's such a novelty to have fireworks you can actually see--normally our Independence Day fireworks are at midnight or 1am because it's too bright to see them--and even then it's only rather dusky.  But for New Year's Eve we could have started the fireworks at 4 o'clock and watched them just fine.

We waited until about 7pm before loading up the sled and setting up shop in the yard--you can see Andrew and the kids standing in the plowed-out trenches and lighting up roman candles by the aid of the shop light. 

With it so warm even I ventured out of the protection of the cabin to watch up close as they lit things up.  Anchorage has an ordinance against fireworks in the city so as long as I can remember we've had to get out of town if we want a show.  But this year they lifted the ban just for the holiday and things were popping up everywhere.

Last year we had a lunar eclipse on a blue moon for New Year's Eve and I wondered if it could be taken as a good omen for 2010. Now, looking back, even though things were shaky for the first six months it turns out that our little blue moon eclipse ended up being a pretty good indicator of the good things that eventually came our way.

It's funny how things can be going so badly but it doesn't take too long once the stress is removed for you to forget all about the negatives and remember (mostly) the positives.  I'm kind of glad our brains are like that.

With fireworks and fun and such a wonderful holiday season I'm hoping that 2011 is even better.  I'm going to turn 41 and I'm going to finish the rewrite on my book. I'm going to practice until I can do at least one honest-to-goodness push-up and I'm going to get my knee fixed/strong enough so I can run barefoot again.

I'm going to plan/save for our last official family vacation before Grace leaves for college.  I think I may also spend some time brushing up on my French after so many years of neglect.  I'm going to finish reading the Bible (I'm plodding through Deuteronomy right now) along with Thomas Friedman's The World Is Flat (so far Deuteronomy is better), Anya Seton's My Theodosia and Bill Bryson's A Brief History of Nearly Everything. Plus a few more in there.

Or maybe I'll get completely wild and crazy and make this . . .



And--oh yea--I'm going to do some blogging. What are your plans?