Evenings I've been curled up in a chair sitting next to Dr. Thyme watching the entire two seasons of Downton Abbey with the honey cowl work in my lap. So happy. So content. We both loved DA. I've never considered myself a Masterpiece gal. Today, I would classify myself in "groupie" status. We are now working our way through another outstanding Masterpiece PBS/BBC production: Sherlock. Whoa. LOVE. IT. Who is that guy? He's perfect as Sherlock.
One night DH asked, "Are you going to work on my Christmas sweater, too?" To which I replied, "Seriously?" Of course my selfish knitting takes priority over ALL well-intended knitted gifts. I felt a pang of guilt over the matter. But this quickly passed.
And now, onto knitting. And some news of the very strange and absurd.
For those unaware, the art of knitting is under scrutiny. Big story. Big news. First a disclaimer. I am not an Olympic athlete. Nor do I pretend to be one when I knit. However, if you would like to spend a few minutes laughing yourself silly, might I direct you to the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard: Gawker covers this quite well. As does Mason-Dixon Knitting. At first when I read the Olympic Committee (yes, with capital letters, so you know this is for real) has taken umbrage with Ravelry and its many Ravelympic shenanigans (of the afghan, mitten, sock, hat, scarf, cardigan, and sweater sort)--I thought this was a very funny and clever joke. What better way to get a knitter's attention than to create a scandal! I love a good scandal, don't you? Sadly, this is real. The OC apparently finds our knitting "denigrates" the Olympics. For those knitters who have the the gall to knit while watching the Olympic games and partake in such groups via Ravelry . . . be aware, be very aware. You are now colluding. And as such, may find yourself in . . . well, in "violation." Please someone tell me this is not really happening. Please. I want to know when the jig is up. In the off chance this whole thing is REAL, (and my fear is that the letter and all its lawyer speak are), I will humbly submit to finally learning to knit real socks. Not the kind that are knit with two different colors of yarn on one needle so I can tell the difference, but honest-to-goodness, wearable socks. For humans. For maybe even Stephen Colbert. But I think knitting some for my husband would have to come first (right after I finish the man-sweater), then socks for Colbert. **UPDATE: The Olympic Committee has since issued an apology. Twice. If THAT doesn't tell you something about the power of knitting folk, well, I don't know what does. I still think I'd like to knit a pair of wearable socks. 
On a completely unrelated venture. We have this little groundhog residing in the back yard. He's the most adorable little thing I have ever seen. I spotted him out back before he had spotted me (they are quite skittish) and quickly but ever-so-quietly ran back inside for my camera. I call him a badger. They can be destructive little critters. But cute beyond words just the same. And as you can see, he is on the "outside" of the veggie patch. 
Here is the latest veggie patch update. It's bone dry out there. I don't water everyday. I try to stick to the rule--an inch of water per week. I want to encourage deep roots on the plants vs. shallow. But the parched ground and lack of water here is stressing everything. I feel sorry for the trees. We had such a beautiful spring. And now. . . this. I have tomatoes on nearly all my tomato plants. No blight or foliage diseases have appeared. . . yet. I attribute this miracle to the fact that the rain we so desperately need has kept nasty airborne mold spores from attacking my plants. While I am very concerned over the lack of rain we've had here (especially given that most annoying of holidays is approaching)--I'm grateful to have such healthy and disease-free plants at this stage of the game. There be rabbits. . . big time. So it looks like, "No Beans For Me". I refuse to stress out over this. They've gotta eat--if I were a rabbit, I'd eat my garden, too.
Veggie patch number two. Corn is up. Kale is up. (I've been juicing in the afternoons: two kale leaves, three carrots, an apple, some dates, celery and grapes--it's a delicious pick-me-up.) Other parts of the patch are "dormant" for now. I ripped up my pea vines last weekend and used my fresh peas in a curry. They were so tasty. I plan to plant a fall crop of peas--when the weather cools. A pain in the neck to shell--all one hundred or so of them, but totally worth it in the end. So while this little garden strip appears to be somewhat "bare" and pretty stark looking--every good gardener knows--you leave spaces open for the "next" crops. Just not sure what exactly that will be yet. This was a garden I had all tomatoes in last year. I rotated the tomatoes to the new beds and gave this one a tomato "break". It works wonders for the soil.
I have to share my pasta endeavor. This weekend I made homemade pasta and TRIED my hand at shaping tortellini. This is the result. Okay, so I won't be heading to Italy any time soon. But still. These were quite good. Here's what I did: I poured a cup of Bob's Red Mill Semolina flour on the kitchen counter, added 1/3 cup of water and a tablespoon of EVOO, and a pinch of salt, then dove in with my hands. No bowls. No food processor. So easy. After the dough came together into a nice little round ball (I sprinkled a bit of water over it as I kneaded the dough)--after all the stickiness subsided, I set the dough in an oiled bowl to rest for and hour, then got my pasta roller out and had a blast. The pasta was perfect. We LOVED it! I am getting quite good at homemade pasta if I don't say so myself. And one last thing, because I really have been busy and never really know how or when to "edit" myself on my posts (I guess if you're a regular "visitor", you've figured that out by now).
My reading diversions are many. My Kindle seems to be attracting more and more books--our library just began offering e-book lending. More for my Kindle! I am nearly finished reading, "A Widow's Story" by Joyce Carol Oates. Loved this book. Loved. It. JCO, as she refers to herself, is by far one of my favorite authors. Ever. I've read nearly all her books. Blonde and The Falls--two of my most favorite books ever. This book, however, is a memoir about the sudden loss of her husband, Ray, and the ensuing days, weeks and months after dealing with the trauma of the event, coping with the grief, the solitude and the onslaught of well-intended acts of support with which she must contend. While JCO does share some darker moments of surviving after the loss of her husband--of navigating the friends, flowers (which will perhaps give you pause the next time you decide to send "flowers" to someone grieving), and many-sleepless nights, she also brilliantly and gracefully lets us into her soul. I felt privileged to read this and better for having done so.
And one other book I am heading into next right after the JCO memoir is a newbie: Bowling Avenue by Ann Shayne. You might know her from the Mason-Dixon Knitting blog. Bowling Avenue is Ann's new book. I have been reading Kay and Ann's blog for a l-o-n-g time. I love their blog. They've inspired many-a-knittin'-project in this house. As a fan of their blog, I thought it perfectly sensible I'd love Ann's new book. I read the first chapter as a sample and right away was hooked. If you go to Ann's page, you'll find a link there. I am always happy to help a knitting sister out. And, better yet, a writer-knitter sister.
Meanwhile, let the sock lessons begin. Any tips from fellow knitters--experts in all things socks--I'd totally welcome.
I wanted to write about these quinoa patties we'd had for over a week now. But the heat had stifled my writerly self to the point of such despair that I'd contemplated shunning "The Blog" for the remainder of the season until my heart and mind could once again muster the strength to put into words food stuff and my ramblings. Then I had that chocolate moment last week and that sort of broke the spell. Thank. God.
Action shot: rain.
Action shot: hummingbird. How cool is that? (Okay it only took a hundred and fifty attempts, but still.) 
The story of this cookie began last week when I received a phone call from my best friend. Sometimes you think life couldn't possibly hand you one more thing. And then it does. The time of the call (early) told me all I needed to know. Something terrible had happened. I'd barely said 'hello', was going down the list: Are the kids okay? Are you okay? Is your mom okay? Dad? Do you have the "C" word. . . what happened?! As it turned out, something horrible had happened. It involved her mother. Which in turn, involved me. Gayle would then travel a thousand miles in one afternoon. I'd see her in six hours. Then we'd travel another two hours to her mom.
Apparently red velvet is making a come back. I couldn't be happier. One of my all time favorite red treats were Hostess Zingers (RIP Hostess). Red cake and coconut and creamy filling. What's not to love? So my partiality to red foods goes waaay back. And if you tsk-tsk the use of red food coloring for your eating pleasure, that's a shame. Because to my mind, it's the red food coloring that gives this cookie--and its cake namesake--an unmistakable yum factor. As for amounts--this cookie does not require a full bottle of red coloring. (The cake does.) I was able to to eek by with only 2 teaspoons. 
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This is my best friend Gayle. We are in the parking lot of the hospital this past weekend. Both of us wanted a picture of the two of us for our phones. We acknowledged that given the stress, crying and "our age", sunglasses were in order. A moment of laughing was good for us. I sent a copy of it to my sister who said, "You guys look exactly like you always do. . . I've seen this picture a hundred times." And it's true. 
She called me once and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation together. . . again. I was never much for "traveling" vacations--my jobs in the past required me to be on the road entirely too much. I can't stand hotels to this day. But this time she wanted to do Memphis: Graceland. We did the whole nine yards. Bought the CDs. Bought the Elvis t-shirts. Wept at the grave site. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.
We stayed at the Peabody. Yes. We watched the ducks, too.
On a much earlier vacation--with her mother and her two children (now grown, both in college and amazing)--we all spent eight days on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took this picture of me. We both laughed about how Kennebunkport this looked. We called it "The Postcard from Dahling" shot. (And yes, I had to go brunette at least once in my life. I wanted people to take me more seriously. It was the only time in my life gentlemen stopped holding doors open for me. So I said "screw this" and went back to being a blonde.) 
She has always had something of an affinity for bikes and things that go varoom-varoom. (She gets that from her father. That's who took this photo.) She owns her own Harley. She will never get me on that damn bike. Okay?