Duncan's Hat (Still Making Stuff)

Duncan asked me to knit him a hat "with stripes." One day after school we went together to the yarn store, where he picked out three colors of Polar Fleece yarn.  He watched with keen interest as the hat grew each day, and two mornings ago he awoke to find his new hat at the breakfast table. "I love you Mama for knitting this hat for me," he gushed. I sent him off to school in his new hat. When I picked him up, Miss Anne said "Duncan LOVES that hat. He wore it all day. He wore it at lunch. He wore it during his nap." I was touched; I didn't really start the project looking for that kind of response. I just wanted to knit the kid a hat, since I'm working so hard to knit things for other people. I was more than touched; I was thrilled.

And then I looked at Duncan, who was wearing a paper bowl, painted green, upside down on his 

head - his leprechaun hat. I grabbed the Polar Fleece and his lunch box out of his cubby and drove the leprechaun home.

A Little Bit of Knit

I've kept up my resolution to make stuff; here's a little of what I've been up to.

Scarf Number 3 for Duncan's Teachers (Next Christmas) - modeled by Bear-y as I had no willing models.

Here's the progress on Duncan's hat. He requested a hat with stripes, and I took him to the yarn store, where he gravitated naturally to the polar fleece, and selected green, teal and red.  I was a little horrified, but now I think they work okay together. He's interested in its progress and asks me periodically if I can knit him different things, like shoes. I'll get through the hat first, and we'll see where that gets us!

I'm not sure what's making the yarn appear neon in the first picture; it's not quite that electric. I'm getting used to knitting in the round, and I hope it will help prepare me to tackle some socks. The polar fleece feels nice in my hands, but I don't like how it feels on the needles. It also sheds a bit on my clothes; I love the way it looks knit up though so I may use it again.

Happy Saturday!  Stay dry.

Woman vs. 'Bot: Bread Throwdown

I loved my bread machine. I think we had it for about 10 years because Lorna and Vernon gave it to me for Christmas or my birthday one year, and Lorna and Vernon had been dating for less than a year at that point, and Lorna and Vernon were together at our wedding in 1999. That's a lot of episodic memory to establish that the bread machine has been around the block a few times. We have used it a LOT; I know a lot of people who say that their machines collect dust, but we are not among them.

As I've been trying to move my family toward eating more homemade, unprocessed food, I've been thinking a lot about baking bread. As easy as the bread machine is, it still takes time, and I often find myself purchasing a loaf of French or Italian or seven grain to accompany pasta or sandwich cheese on grilled cheese nights. I thought I'd drag the machine out and give it a whirl, because it had been a while. Then, I made a bad loaf of bread. I chalked it up to the yeast, replaced my yeast, and tried again. The next loaf was equally flat, dense, and almost inedible. I chalked it up to the whole wheat flour; added for health reasons, it had a bitter, rancid taste. It had been around the block a few times as well, so I replaced the whole wheat flour. I could not chance failure in the next batch. I resorted to a tried and true, basic white bread recipe. It rose and tasted okay but had a very thick crust. Having replaced all possible ingredients, I attempted one more batch of whole wheat bread; when the timer beeped, and I went to remove it from the machine, it had mixed incompletely and baked that way. It looked vaguely like lava. I wish I had remembered to photograph it because you can't begin to imagine. Half-mixed, baked, whole wheat bread is not even fit for the birds.

At this point, I established that the bread machine was just "not right." It's possible I made some ignorant error, such as putting in the pan backwards, repeatedly. It's also possible that I randomly made three or four ignorant errors in that many successive batches of bread. But I don't think so. I was left with this conundrum: I don't want to buy a new bread machine (because of the whole "not buying things I don't need" business); I want fresh bread. Reluctantly, I reminded myself that people baked bread long before there were bread machines. Not only that, but I personally have baked many successful loaves of bread in the past, sans machine.  Even, if you can believe it, sans recipe. The process of bread baking had become so grand in my head (as I sought to justify the need for a special machine to bake it) that I had lost sight of the basic process:  proof yeast in warm water; add flour; knead; let raise; shape; let raise; bake. It's not complicated; it just takes a bit of time.  It doesn't even take very much hands-on time; it just needs the patience to see it through about 4 hours of half-hearted attention.

About 20 years ago, about a decade before I acquired a bread machine, my friend Susan taught me how to make a good, basic "go to" loaf of bread. Susan is about 13 years older than me and knew things like that. She could make bread or pie crust, from scratch, without a recipe. She taught me how to grow basil and how to make pesto and how to throw together a mean tomato basil pasta. Two weekends ago, I thought I'd see if the bread recipe would miraculously come back to me. It didn't. I think time was the culprit; it was Sunday afternoon, we had already been on our trek to the grocery store, and I was in the middle of making dinner, doing laundry, and our other Sunday chores. I also threw in a cup of whole wheat flour for good measure. The bread didn't rise so much as it spread. It was edible but dense and could have cooked a bit more. Two-thirds of it made its way into the garbage. I felt a little defeated but also encouraged; it was ALMOST bread, without a machine. I wanted to make another loaf immediately, but that's the kind of thing the crazy people do, so I held off until the next weekend.

It's a great thing that I did. I tried again. I took the advice my mother has given me about knitting socks:  don't think of it in terms of a finished product; think of it as a learning experience. I decided the bread was not for Sunday night dinner; it was just a little activity to keep my mind busy while I was doing other things in the kitchen. I eschewed the whole wheat flour, took a few breaths, and jumped in. From a 20 year old memory, and from touch (knowing how bread should look and feel), I made a delectable loaf of bread; it was the bread I have been dreaming about. Maybe I won't have time to bake it every weekend, and maybe a bread machine would let me experiment more often and more easily, but I have a surefire bread recipe that lives in my head and a little in my heart (because I haven't seen Susan in nearly a decade either, but the bread brings her right back into my kitchen). That, my friends, is something the bread machine can never accomplish.

Now THAT's what I'm talking about!

Shots of Duncan

It's been a while since I posted anything about Duncan so here are a few recent photos.  I have some shots from the recent snow storm and our snow man; I'll try to get them off the camera by the end of the week.  These days, the camera is met with a lot of "why are you taking my picture, Mama," and "not NOW Mama," so I have to take them when I can get them. 

Resolutions

Last year, I didn't make any New Year's resolutions because I had already spent a good year or so making one, green, environmentally friendly resolution at a time until I incorporated it into my lifestyle. I still have a similar feeling. There are some things in my life I'm always working on (or trying to work on), and it seems trite to make them New Year's Resolutions:  exercise more; be more patient with Duncan; floss every day; keep recycling paper; stop procrastinating. This is hardly the stuff of a REAL resolution. And now, here we are, fifty-some-odd days out from New Year's...and it's a little late. I can't call them birthday resolutions because it's too late; I can't chalk them up to Lent because that would by hypocritical; but there are a couple of things I want to work on, and writing them down and publishing them will help me focus.  So here they are, with you as my witnesses.  The Great Snowpocalypse Resolutions of 2010. There are only two, but they are complex and and tightly intertwined...tangled...if you will.

1.  Make Stuff

I love creating things. I like to knit, I'm obsessed with textiles, I love to read craft blogs, and I own way too many craft books. Although I have limitations when it comes to finishing things, I like the idea of making things for my friends and family. I like putting the time into making something unique, and I like the creative outlet. Crafting makes me feel relaxed and useful, and it calms my brain. It benefits the earth as well. Knitting a gift for someone is more ecologically friendly than driving to the mall and throwing down money for a product that is made of materials that don't biodegrade, that are packaged in excessive paper and plastic, that have often been produced in ways that are not friendly to people or the environment, and that have acquired a large carbon footprint in their production and delivery.

You may mock me now, if you know me, because you know I have not picked up my knitting needles in a year except to make a stab at Baby Ben's baby sweater, which I never finished.  Baby Ben is nearly 2, and I started that sweater before he was born. That sweater is a mark of my failure, but I'm too stubborn to rip it out and too incapable of finish the second sleeve.  Anywho...

I think I can make a stab at this. I have already started a storage bin in the basement to collect completed projects for next Christmas. I started with the ubiquitous scarf:  easy to start, quick to knit, easy to finish. I'm knitting scarves for each of Duncan's teachers. He has four teachers, and I'm working on my third scarf. It seems like a reasonable goal. I'm also working on the infamous gift I started for Lorna eons ago. I have ideas for knitting projects and other crafts for everyone in my family. If I approach this resolution one project at a time, I can make serious progress. (Well, I need to have two projects going at any one time so I don't get bored, but NO MORE THAN TWO!  ANY more than two is a recipe for disaster)

It's simple really. Make stuff...for myself, my family, and the earth. Our ancestors did it. I can do it.

2.  Buy Less Stuff

I live in the middle of nowhere. It is an hour drive to a shopping mall or a decent department store. Whatever. I chose this life, and I need to live it without whining. The problem is that it has become my excuse to buy whatever I need or want on the internet. The ease with which I can justify ordering things is terrifying, and it's causing a lot of problems. Let's start with how far my stuff travels, eating up nonrenewable fossil fuels. What am I thinking? I need to learn to plan better, to do without, or to think about a purchase before committing to its carbon footprint. Secondly, we have too much stuff. You can see it with the naked eye. We're out of space, and our house is full of things that will ultimately end up in a landfill. All my efforts to live, clean, and eat in a sustainable way are being undone by the boxes that arrive daily from Amazon.com. Finally, there is the little matter of how I have been paying with those purchases, often with a credit card, for its pure convenience. We want to buy a house; we have too much credit card debt; we have too much stuff; we care about the earth. It's a pretty simple equation. Solve for x. X = Buy Less Stuff.

The easiest way for me to tackle this resolution is to revisit Shawn Achor's twenty-one day plan to making a life change. Beginning on March 1, for 21 days, I'm only allowing myself to make online purchases if I use my debit card. I think it will be difficult for the first week and will grow progressively easier. The debit card has a much lower limit (ha ha) so I will need to stop and think about my purchases. Imagine.  Stop. And. Think.  Stop. And. Think. = Buy. Less. Stuff.

3.  Make Stuff/Buy Less Stuff

Do you see how they are intertwined? Maybe not; perhaps it's not as obvious I think it is. If I make stuff, I won't need to buy as much stuff. That's pretty simple, right? If I make stuff, I will also reclaim the kind of creativity that will encourage me to repurpose what I already have. I will slow down my need to acquire as I relearn the patience it requires to stick with a project through its completion. Maybe, I'll be too busy knitting to have time to shop. Maybe I'll develop such an appreciation for hand-crafted, eco-friendly stuff that I'll lose my taste for the mass produced, just as I have lost the ability to eat Kraft processed cheese slices. If I make stuff, I will buy less stuff. I will consume fewer resources and return less to the landfill.

It may be a fantasy, but it's my fantasy. I firmly believe that these changes are the most logical next steps in my attempts to lead a greener and more sustainable lifestyle, and they're essential if we want to be ready to buy our own house (with some fantasy solar panels...). Wish me luck. I have some scarves to finish.

(And Jay, if you're reading this, sometimes it's okay to use the word "stuff" - as long as you have thought it out and used it for effect.)

Love, Seven

Recycled Love

Valentine's Day flowers from the love of my life:  100% recycled.  

Love, Six (You Didn't Think I Was Done on Valentine's Day, Did You?)

Red Velvet Love