a smaller life

garlic scape pesto

 

Image courtesy of purlingplans

  

We subscribed to a CSA this year- One Straw Farm is supplying most of our vegetables this summer. It's a great deal and I'm so excited to have begun- we have the opportunity to get all of these delicious local veggies and to try some new things, too.

Like scapes, for example- the twirly, curly tops of garlic. I've eaten them before, but never made anything with them, until this week. They were in my CSA box this week, and we were scrambling to look for something to make with these. I nibbled the edges, never having had one raw before, and the taste was somewhere between blanched garlic and sweet green grass. It was the perfect summer flavor, and I had no idea how to use it.

We were strolling through MOM's this weekend and lo and behold, the answer was handed to me: garlic scape pesto samples, complete with a recipe. There are no words for how fantastic these are- we bought thin- sliced, rustic whole- grain bread to eat this with.

 

Garlic Scape Pesto

Ingredients:

10 garlic scapes, trimmed & chopped

1/3 cup roasted almonds

1/3 cup fresh- grated parmesan cheese

1/2 cup olive oil

sea salt, pepper

basil leaves, fresh

Instructions:

Use a food processor or a blender to mix the scapes, almonds, cheese and 1/4 cup of the olive oil. Stop the mixer, scrape the sides with a spatula, then add the rest of the oil and blend again. Add salt and pepper and blend one last time until your pesto is at the consistency you like best. Spread on lightly toasted bread or crackers, then top with grated parmesan cheese and one leaf of fresh basil.

You can freeze this to save it- it will hold for up to one year. If you're regrigerating leftovers, add a drop of olive oil and cover the surface with wax paper. 

Nom.

on the color pink

Cosyknits recently wrote a post about her changing views on color that is so appropriate to how I've been thinking, lately. I am coming to view colors differently- I've been watching myself shift from murky deep dusk colors into the bright and clear tones. There is still depth there, but I've been feeling a lot more playful with my color choices lately.

 

(This amazing, thigh- high sample sock was knit out of Skinny Bugga summer colorways by the lovely and talented Katydid Knits.)

This summer is full of surprises for me- some positive, some negative, some just… well, surprising. Looking at all my new colors on the lines, I can't help but wonder exactly what is happening with me, lately; my colors are bright and rich and jewel- toned. There are even a few strong pastels in there- strong enough to almost not qualify as pastels, but so light… well, maybe I need a new word for whatever those are.

They are gorgeous, though. That word fits. They are lovely and they just flash out at  me. They are influenced by the time of year, I'm sure, but even more by the people in my life; a lemon- chartreuse for Pamela, a darkish blue for my sister Megan (like her eyes), a purple- magenta for my aunt Karen. But there is nothing in there to explain the pale pink, or the orange with hot pink flashes; they are just there, lovely and colorful, and I've no idea where they have come from, of why I want to make them. 

It is the pinks that startle me. I've always hated pink; I've seen it as insipid, or obvious, or silly. But I don't, any more: certainly there are pinks that fit that description- Barbie pink, how I hate you- but there's something sweet and sensual in the pinks I've been making lately, delicate and generous.

 

 

Somehow, I am turning into a girl who loves pinks. Peachy pinks, nude negligee pinks, soft buttery yellows with pink tones, it's in everything. I've dyed a champagne color that I am so in love with, and I have thoughts of dusky grey- pinks, too. 

I have no idea what that means, but while I'm figuring it out, I'll be dyeing silk scarves for myself in every pink I can dream.

the tenth list of Very Good Things (and a clarification)

Better late than never, right?

Deciphered on Flickr, and can you believe this has been going on for ten weeks now? Longer, if you count my non- listy photo entries. Awesome. 

(P.S.- Someone recently interpreted these lists as a sort of wish list, and I wanted to address that in case it's misconception held by anyone else. The point of these lists is gratitude and simplicity, not greed. I'm writing about things that are good now, and here, not asking for people to send me stuff. Not only would that be horrifically tacky, but the last thing I need in my life is more... well, things.) 

 

the ninth list of things that make me happy

 

 

 

Broken out on Flickr, of course.

My doctors and I have only recently really gotten a handle on how my disease is affected by heat, and this weekend was unbelievably hot. The current direction from my neuro is to avoid being in any temperature above 70 degrees for anything over thirty minutes. I'm pretty sure we both looked out the window at the already ridiculous Baltimore weather immediately after he said it; I know I said something like, "How am I supposed to manage that, exactly?" and his response involved shaking his head and suggesting I consider a handicapped placard for my car. 

 

I had an outdoor wedding to photograph Saturday at 11, but it was already in the 80s by 10 am. I shot the wedding anyways, with the help of a little sangria from Carma's Cafe and with Sam as my second, which helped a ton. (Side note: I'd like Carma's to cater my life, please.) I got the hell out of dodge immediately after the ceremony, and I think I did all right; I was feeling pretty crap at the end there, but air conditioning restored me pretty quickly and was careful with myself for the rest of the weekend.

The wedding really solidified what my doctors had been telling me: heat and me are a terrible mix. I had held secret hopes of being able to peek into Maryland Sheep and Wool for an hour or two, but after the wedding there was just no way; I missed it entirely, as I'd expected to.

The idea of missing MDS&W made me very sad: it seemed like a particularly egregious symbol of the recent, unwelcome changes in my life. We had a meetup on Saturday that I missed (that's work stuff! I've never been the type to miss work stuff!), there was funnel cake and lambs and gyros, and there was the tradition of the thing. I scheduled my deployment to fit around MDS&W, for crying out loud.

Honestly, though, this weekend was pretty fantastic. Sam guessed I'd be feeling pretty badly- I hate learning my restrictions, they make me feel so weak- so he went out of his way to take me around to all of my favorite things this weekend. I don't know if there are words for how wonderful it is to have a partner who can step in and seamlessly help me focus on feeling normal when everything seems off, but I'm damned grateful for him.

We went to Cosmic Comics for Free Comic Book Day, which is going to be our new way of celebrating the arrival of spring, I think. Sam and I both won prizes in the raffle, and all my back issues of House Of Mystery came in. We ate at Kelsey's and reviewed wedding photos together, picking through our favorite shots of Melissa and Rob. There was a pint or two of Harp involved, and in the evening we planted things. I have a black thumb, but I sure love planting things.

 

 

And Sam gave me a banjo, people. A banjo! If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

   

 

A banjo! I think her name is Emily, although we're still working it out. My poor husband and daughter will have to listen to me plinking away at this for the next... well, ever... until I get it figured out. I played guitar in high school, and bass later on, so hopefully I'll be a quick study. For Sam's sweet sake, at least.   

So- long story short (too late, as ever)- my weekend was amazing and unexpected, or unexpectedly amazing, despite missing sheep. How was yours?

in which the week gets better, and not just because it rather had to

 

We're busy over here, packing for Stitches South in Atlanta this coming week. I don't know how communicative I'll be while we're there, but I'll give it my best. I've spent the weekend pouring through my outfits, trying on corsets, trying to decide which pieces of taffeta frippery will pack best and realizing that it really doesn't matter. All hotels have irons in them these days, right? 

Outside of packing ad preparing, though, there's been some fun. We spent some time making fun of our smart- phone addictions. There are three iPhones in this picture, and that's not counting Pamela's Blackberry, which was taking pictures for Twitter at the time. We are information addicts. Oh, or my own iPhone, tucked in my pocket. I remember a time when I couldn't understand why anyone would need a portable phone at all. Hm.

This week also brought about the end of a long- standing mystery, which was wonderful. I'm usually so let down when one of my Great Mysteries is solved- those un- Google-able things that you puzzle over for months. I usually prefer the things I've imagined to the real answers, which are generally far less exciting. This, though, wasn't a let- down at all.

 

 

We've been acting like children a lot in the house- I've been chasing Kiddo around the kitchen pretending to be a love zombie, or running our dogs around until they collapse. Or, in Hugo's case, hide in the bottom of the cat tree.

 

 

The best part of this week, though, began in the grocery store. We found Magic Grow Sea Beasties. Do you remember those? The giant colorful capsules that turned into sponge critters in hot water? I always wanted to take one like a pill as a child, although now, I think that would be pretty gross... but I'm still tempted.

 

 Look at all the options! We only allow ourselves to "release" two of them a day, and we pretend it's all very scientific at the time. Me, I'm waiting for the giant squid. Or the octopus, that would be pretty rad. Kiddo is waiting for the manta ray and Sam just likes flicking water on everybody.

 

 These things are so cool.

 

 

That's really all that's happening, lately. I still don't have a banjo- not for a lack of looking, or desire. I have this feeling that the right banjo will come to me, or something. My Banjo Destiny. Maybe I should check Atlanta's Craigslist? Atlanta seems like a great place to find a banjo.

Long story short- too late, again- the week got better, just as we'd suspected it might, and next week looks pretty good, too. Atlanta, here I come. I hope you're ready for me.

 

 

dogs and lists and positive thinking

 

 

Oh, I am so behind this week. Behind on everything, from my LoVGT (List of Very Good Things) to my laundry to a class I'm supposed to be taking online, late on finishing everything, late on starting anything I'd planned this week. Agh.

I'm making new lists of things to do- and simplifying them, this time. Trying to carefully determine how much can and should go into a day.

Speaking of lists: my very, very late list of things that are good:

 

 

 (Broken out on Flickr, like always.)

There is a lot going on right now- changes to the house, changes in routine and ritual, classes, yoga (I signed up for a set of classes at a very nearby studio, so excited), puppies to train.

Wait, did I say puppies? I meant puppy. This puppy, and to hell with self- restraint.

 

The camera use around the dogs is constant and epic. I keep trying to photograph the two of them playing together, but they're too fast and it all comes out as a blur. I did managed to catch one of poor Lilu after a play session, though.

 

 

  

(What's that line about sleeping dogs?) The longer we have a puppy, the more I come to realize that Lilu is older than I'd really thought about. She's about seven years old, which is about middle aged for a Rottweiler, even a tiny one like our girl. She's incredibly patient about Hugo crawling all over her and chewing on her face, but he wears her right out. Just looking at her trying to keep up with him wears me out.

I try to be sweet to her, and take her on walks, and be patient when she insists on tearing up my new door trying to eat the mailman or the milkman or the UPS man or, well, anyone how doesn't live or work here. You only get so many days. I think about that a lot- about the amount of days/ hours/ minutes we get, and how we never really know what that number is, and how that's probably a kindness. If I knew how many hours I had, I'd probably spend 15 minutes calculating how many I'd spent in a job I loathed and then I'd spend at least another 45 minutes being angry about it. Possibly more.

That's one of the nice things about MS. There aren't many, but this is one of them: I'm constantly aware that things could be very different for me, that they might end up very different for me. It might be sudden, or it might creep up on me, or it might not even happen at all. All that uncertainty, especially after a full year of uncertainty- helps me stay closer to the moment. Things are good; I should focus on those things, and how good they are. Next year I might not be able to have sore knees from running. I probably will, but who knows? There's no use eating up my minutes/ hours/ days worrying about that, but I'm definitely more conscious and careful to enjoy things. I used to let so much pass me by. It's nicer this way.

things that are good

In the midst of the house madness, we've embarked on our Buy Nothing Month, half as a personal experiment and half as a safeguard in case the home insurance company leaves us hanging. Sam was already attempting to tempt me from the high road on Day 6, telling me that if we didn't get Chick Fil-A waffle fries right that moment that we would regret it on Sunday. When that didn't work, he played dirty and reminded me that after the waffle fries, we could go get Five Guys, but I held on, and I think he's glad I did.

It took one hell of an effort, though. Damn. I swear, they put something addictive and delicious in those waffle fries.

We've set some pretty simple rules: food is okay, if it's for eating at home and isn't self- indulgent snack junk. No eating out or take- out, no going to the movies, no museums that charge an entrance fee, no buying books or waxing or yoga classes. No spur of the moment iTunes song purchases. Pay the bills, obviously, and get gas when we need it, but try to avoid excess driving. Vet trips and medical co- pays are expected and part of regular bills. We both allow ourselves one small indulgence: he has corned beef hash at work on Wednesdays, I get a hoagie at Wawa on Mondays. (That's another place that adds crack to their food, I swear.)

I think that's everything.

It doesn't seem like much- a lot of people live this way all the time- but having that one, $4 luxury a week makes it seem extra- awesome.

And really, there's very little that we miss, oddly enough. Waffle fries, obviously, but my homemade biscuits and gravy this morning was a pretty decent compensation. I'm listening to Ok Go videos instead of buying the new album, and you know, I don't mind at all. Those videos are kick ass.

Other than missing the yoga classes and the waxing, it hasn't really made that much of an impression on me, but ask me again in another 20 days.

In other news, another List Of Good Things.

 

 

Translation to my chickenscratch over at Flickr, as always. Thinking of making this part of my Monday routine. Thoughts?

 

in which I remember what doesn't matter

 

An imperfect picture shot through a windowscreen, taken quickly to capture the colors in my backyard last night and meant for my inspiration folder. There’s something to be said for sharing the less- than- perfect shots--- those things that I keep stashed in folders and never show anyone. It’s an admission of the amount of effort I put into the better shots; I don’t just toss my camera up and magically get the perfect image. I take some terrible pictures, a lot of so- so ones, and a special few almost- right shots.

This definitely qualifies as terrible; the colors convinced me to give up on perfection, something I should do more often. When I’m not exercising my OCD tendencies, I realize that the things I obsess over really don’t matter so much.

I spent most of today poring over tiny details that no one will ever notice in a graphic that will take up one- quarter of a page. Meanwhile, back in my old world, more old friends are living in war zones or gearing up to go into war zones. I can block that out of my head for a little while, as long as I never watch the news or video game previews or commercials, as long as no one lets off fireworks in my neighborhood, as long as I don’t listen to the news segments on NPR, as long as I skip “Love Vigilantes” every time it plays on my iPod. I can rig a sheet around the thought of people I love in a place that doesn’t want what they represent just long enough to make it through a day or two, and when it gets too bad, I’ll have my quick quiet cry in the shower, set my head straight and move on. That’s my training: keep it down, purge it fast, keep moving. It works. It works so well I hardly know how to break out of it.

My brother leaves for Afghanistan any day now, which I’m trying to keep locked down hard, too much to think about: he’s military. I’ll spend a day in bed with the covers over my head when his bird takes off. D. leaves for somewhere next Tuesday. N. is getting settled in Lashkar Gah, and S. is still bouncing all over Afghanistan in a chopper. Another S. is taking fire in Iraq, and who knows where the hell A is. It doesn’t matter if they’re military or not, if they’re part of the war or part of the relief- I have people on both sides- bullets and bombs don’t discriminate.

I want to live in a life where no one I love is in imminent danger of getting blown up, please. I suppose I should have thought of that about 13 years ago.

in which we are snowbound

 

 

You may have heard we're getting a bit of snow in Maryland this week. Trust me, all the stories are true, plus a bit. I've seen as bad and possibly worse growing up in Connecticut, but we expect this sort of thing there. We're better prepared there. Maryland winters aren't 72 inches of snow, and especially aren't 43+ inches in a week: Baltimore has no way of coping with this, and so, we're officially snowed in. 

 

 

Sam had his MRI/ MRA/ MRV series Friday (cross your fingers for us!), just before the snow started to fall for the first time. We came back that afternoon, settled in, and here we've stayed since. No work, as no one can get to my house- the roads were plowed but once, by a bulldozer, several hours before the second snow started. We ventured out once to the 7-11 at the end of our street, because I cannot bake without sugar, and this is without question some serious baking weather. (Much rending of cloth and tearing at hair over our lack of nutmeg- how could I have run out, now?)

Me? I'm a little upset at not getting any work done this week- this is no week for trying to work outdoors- but I'm otherwise pretty pleased. Sam's work has been closed, Kiddo's school is canceled; we wake slowly, stumble to coffee and the shower, and spend the day nestling. We watch Twilight Zone and Dr. Who, catch up on Heroes and Lost, I knit and spin on the couch, curled up next to Sam. I make dinner in the slow cooker and let the house fill with the smell of food all day, and then messily bake something sweet in the evenings. I'm even getting good at it- there has been Snowpocalypse baking success, shockingly. I sit crosslegged in a chair in the sitting room and just sit, listening to Iron and Wine and being here, now, content. More time to write my Lists Of Good Things.

 

For anyone looking for a translation of my chicken- scratch, it can be found here.

in which there are apologies and plans

 

 

"Do not hurry, do not rest." -Johann Goethe

I've struggled over how to begin this post for a few days now. Everything sounds too dramatic, too big, too much. I'm tired of too much. I want simple words for simple things.

I've been sick- allergies, steroids, then a MS relapse related to the allergies, rinse and repeat. To be straight about it: January sucked and I'm glad it's over. I spent a lot of the month in bed reading Charlotte Bronte and ordering skirts on Etsy. Okay, the Bronte and skirts bit was all right, but the rest of it was pretty suck.

I'm coming to understand and accept that this Being Sick shtick is going to be a part of my life, and that I need to get okay with it. I'm still working on the acceptance bit- I have a tendency to waste a lot of energy being mad, or rebelling against my traitorous body- but I work at it. I'm learning to spend my energy carefully, as though there were a limited supply, because some days that might be the case. I'm learning to go steady but slow- to listen to Goethe, because heaven knows I'm no good at listening to my body just yet-learning to single- task, to slow down and pay attention. I'm even taking a crack at meditating, but that's another post altogether.

On the other hand- in the Things That Are Good column- I seem to finally have gotten over the dread "Copaxone hump"- I've gotten accustomed to giving myself shots, and it looks like my body has finally gotten used to the drug itself. No more baseball- sized welts, no more itching, no more accidentally wasting a dose by injecting the air. Best of all, no more of that creeping, burning sensation for half and hour afterwards- a sting, some warmth, but it's all so minor now. It got worse before it got better, but I'm glad I stuck with it.

Also a positive: all of those hours laid up left me with time to make lists and plans. I've been thinking out how to re- organize this blog into something more coherent- something I've struggled with since returning from Afghanistan. I didn't get any knitting done, but I've written pages and pages of plans for my life, our house, my body, and this blog. I'm rich in plans, I tell you. Filthy, filthy rich.

I'm also rich in comfort lists: scribbled into my black book are long rambling lists of random things that make me happy. I don't remember writing some of them, but I should dedicate a weekly post to these lists- re-reading them makes me feel warm all over, even without the mega- doses of benadryl, etc. To be honest, there's something about spending a day (or three weeks, whatever) in bed with your paper diary, some good books and lots of pencils, stoned out of your mind on legal, prescribed substances. I mean, I'm not advocating it, necessarily, but I definitely had some sort of quiet creative breakthrough last month, and that's another positive.

My inner critic is beginning to rear her head and snort at so much positive thinking. If I don't leave this soon she'll start muttering about my Pollyanna complex.

The teal deer version: I'm so sorry I let this sit for over a month. I was sick, but I'm feeling better now. I have plans. It's not all bad. More later.