Simplicity

I've been cutting out eight-inch squares of purple, blue, and green fabric for a quilt for the last few weeks. Chloë has an Elmo book, you see, on one of the pages of which Elmo is jumping on his bed with his favorite teddy monster, and on his quilt is a simple, impossibly puffy quilt of blue and green squares. Chloë has repeatedly talked about the quilt, and I got the brilliant idea of making her one like it since she needs a bigger blanket for her bed anyway. This was foolish as I have no time, and also want to make a (also very simple) baby quilt for my brother's best friend's new baby before we leave for Seattle next week. But I've been cutting out squares here and there, and now I've got enough to start sewing.

I thought it would be nice to get done slowly over the next few weeks, a couple of seams at a time, or however long Chloë was willing to bring me squares and sit in my lap and keep her hands away from the sewing machine. Alas: she's scared of the noise. It's too loud, she says (or "tu howd"). Ah well. When I get this other quilt done...because I will, right?...II'll start sewing hers together, a few seams at a time, in the evening. I'd had a much more complicated and awesome one planned before Maia was born: bears in the woods on a moonlit evening. But it didn't happen before Maia was born, so it won't for a while; and now I don't think I'd do that design since she's much more into water at the moment. (She might appreciate the bears, but only if they looked enough like Care Bears, which wasn't my plan.)

I miss doing complicated hobby work, but there's also something charming about the simplicity of a few squares here, a few square there. I also miss the sourdough and artisan bread I used to make, but I like having Chloe help me pile in the ingredients for our standard wheat every week or two (Though I do plan on trying a variation of King Arthur's sandwich rye soon. Also a cinnamon/applesauce bread for French toast inspired by their banana yeast bread. I'll probably freeze it in individual slices so we can store it for just that purpose.) Eric asked me about the logistics that a job on Bainbridge Island would entail, and when he learned that the commute would be long and we couldn't afford to live close, decided it wasn't for him. "Come home at 6:30, then immediately dinner, bathtime, bedtime," he said. "Not a thrilling idea." I think I always knew I would be retooling my life to fit around children, and this is what it looks like. I'll make them complicated quilts when they're older and can appreciate it more anyway.

Matters of state

Well, hello again. I've just recently closed down another blog, the garden one, so maybe I'll be able to remember to turn to this one. So far it's mostly been the baby blog and my worknotes (e-mails to myself).

Let's see. Important news: I am pregnant again. Go ahead, ask me if it was planned. I'm due April 26, and have just given up job-hunting because I couldn't in good conscience accept a job and then go on maternity leave five or fewer months earlier. I hate this, but there it is. Eric is a stay-at-home dad, teaching a class at a local community college and doing online tutoring at night, and it's working out well except that I need a new computer (or at least a new OS, but the new computer would be really nice too) and we don't make enough disposable income that I'm comfortable getting one. It's going on the Christmas list. Chloë is doing very well; she can walk and say "up" and "Dada" and can point to various body parts, and gives marvelous hugs. I'm alternately excited and scared of having a second one. We're just growing into this nice family. Nevertheless.

I finished my most recent craft project, a quilt for my new niece (born last Sunday, I shipped it today, so that wasn't as bad as it could have been). Currently in progress:

-a baby sweater for Chloë, nearly finished
-a kitty hat for Chloë's cousin's Halloween costume, nearly started
-designs for Christmas stockings for all of us
-various attempts at making fleece hats and mittens for Chloë for the winter

Chloë's already outgrowing the baby blanket I made her, and she'll be moving to a toddler bed next summer anyway, so I'm contemplating a big-girl quilt for her. Also one for the new baby. No ideas yet on either.

And I've started the Shoelace revision. Rewrite, rather. I've been doing some research and some thinking and have, I hope, a much better background and outline. Currently I'm some 3500 words in, mostly new. I joined the Novel Club, a quarterly novel-critiquing group, on FMwriters, and I'd like to have this finished to submit by March. Ideally I'd say December, but I know that's not going to happen.

My current plan: finish the above craft projects, start on the quilts, do this quarter's crit early, and plod through Shoelace. I've been taking my lunch hour at work to either craft or write, since if I don't I just end up working through, and that's been helpful. It's also been nice that Chloë has become more independent, and importantly very regular in her sleeping habits, so I have a little time every day to work--not much, but some. So that's the plan. (Rule the world/you and me/Any day--I watched Dr. Horrible twice this weekend, and now I want to keep watching it so I can acquire the music and not just keep singing the same phrases to myself.)

Frittering away my night

Gah. I have this huge list of things that need doing and I've done little bits of things tonight, and yesterday, but nothing's gotten actually done. I made cookies tonight, which was totally unnecessary; yesterday I read some archives of a new-to-me online comic. The quilt isn't quite done, the Mother's Day cards haven't been sent out, the garden isn't ready, the job-hunt lies dormant, the house is filthy. I hate feeling always behind. And this is without getting into things like exercise, or writing, or crafts. I suppose it does account for cooking, since I just said I pushed my actual list aside for cookies. Good cookies, I must say. But still.

What's cooking

I cooked dinner last night, for what seems like the first time in forever--both that I cooked alone, and that we had a real dinner. It was a light one, at that--roasted vegetables (including kohlrabi, which is new to us; it tastes fine but needed more roasting time than the other vegetables, which was problematic), spinach salad, and onion-dill bread. This is the third iteration of onion-dill bread, the first two occurring when I was just starting out in bread-baking, and I think the practice shows. Eric says I should leave the recipe just as it is. I think I'm going to mess around with the preferment a little anyway, because it's so wet I'm worried about leaving it out for most of a day, but otherwise I'm happy about it.

It was great eating a real dinner, with a couple of different dishes, at the same time, without having to go to a restaurant. It's not the baby that's keeping us from doing it--not mostly, at any rate. Occasionally I eat while Eric feeds her some carrots or oatmeal or sweet potatoes and then he eats while I nurse her, but mainly it's that we haven't cooked and it's late, and he's got work to do, or we don't have anything in the house to make one of the few big dishes we both like, or we can't decide what to eat, or I start picking on his slovenly habits or the sorry state of the kitchen and the food discussion gets derailed. (I thought we'd argue more once we had a baby, but I thought the arguments would be about the baby.) It feels healthier as well as more comfortable, too. I've been getting into bad eating habits lately. This is not so good since my work clothes are still tighter than I'd like.

So I went to the farmer's market Saturday, and Costco Sunday, and this week I'll be cooking and maybe baking some more. We've got ConFusion this weekend, and I've got the Chloë night shift, so I won't be able to leave the hotel room and bringing snacks would be a good idea. And I like cooking and baking; it's interesting, it's satisfying, it's good for us, and it makes me feel more in control of my health. Never mind that the next thing I really want to make is gingerbread cookies.

Something broken

My purse died last night. It's ten years old, black leather, very reliable; I've kept it even though Mom (who's given me every purse I've ever owned but one) has been telling me it's too old for years. I admit it was getting worn. She has trouble getting me to give up coats, too. But it was very useful, full of pockets, the right size, and I wouldn’t consider discarding it for another until the zipper, which has been failing, broke completely. So now I'm using another purse Mom gave me--a handbag really, big enough to hold all my pursing needs plus a camera, knitting project, apple, granola bar, and paperback book. (I've mostly used it for plane flights.) It's a nicer purse, objectively, and I’m sure I'll get used to it in time.

I've been on a writing hiatus since I finished Shoelace, except for a couple of writing exercises. I considered doing another project, code-named Cherry Tree, for NaNoWriMo, but my outline wasn't finished by October 31 and I decided to forget it. It was probably a good decision. My nights are still mostly taken up with feeding the baby and putting her to bed and then going to sleep myself. I've been doing a little baking, and a little crafting (and sadly have been tempted into trying another hobby, due to a freebie I got when I went to the Fiber Expo in Ann Arbor and reading Jen's blog: weaving), and a little goofing off, but mostly during the week it's work, eat dinner, take care of the baby, sleep. I'm kind of okay with this. I feel like the medication is preventing me from feeling bad about it. That's what it's supposed to do, but it's kind of weird anyway. But I'm definitely not getting much done. I'm trying to be okay with this, though I always feel I'm doing something wrong when I'm not getting things done. (Don't look at my floors, for example.)

Self-determination

I'm feeling very restless and dissatisfied. Partly because I took an unintended nap and therefore had less time to do things today than I intended, partly because I didn't want to do the things anyway and was therefore secretly glad for the nap, partly because how can I be secretly anything when all I'm doing is talking to myself in my head? The mind is a strange place to live.

However, we made dinner, and I dug up the part of the garden that needs digging up, and some laundry is folded, and I will get some writing done before I go to bed. Probably also some reading or quilt binding, because my feet are a bit puffy-looking and I should put them up. My new gauge for how to spend my evening is the circumference of my ankles. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than by trying to hide my perfectly audible thoughts from myself.

This week

This week shall be Home Improvement week. We went to Home Depot to kick it off and got a tub refinishing kit, shelves for the craft room (so that the spare bed can go in there instead of in the nursery), new shelves for the bathtub (because the old one was utter garbage), and foam insulation and screening to, along with plaster we already have, patch up the mouse hole. We shall Improve our House, or at least Keep It From Falling to Bits.

We shall also visit hospitals--my doctor would have us go to Toledo Hospital, which would be fine except Eric's mom got all in a lather about Toledo and got Eric worried about it, so we're touring them, and Bay Park, and Flower (though Eric has to call that one because it's far away and has an annoying name and I wanted him to do at least part of the work since I would have been happy to stick with Toledo Hospital, especially since that means being able to stick with my current doctor). And Eric has a bunch of doctor's appointments that all somehow ended up being this week. It shall be a busy week. Maybe it'll be good for us for a change.

Eclipsed

I saw the lunar eclipse last night. The moon really does go red at totality. It was beautiful. I thought briefly about trying to take a picture, but we've done that before and it just doesn't come out well. And we're not photography hobbyists enough to buy a camera that will handle it, so I guess there will be no eclipse pictures from us, ever.

Yesterday Eric had class and then a networking thing to go to (dozens of science teachers gathering together and swapping ideas: scaaary stuff), so I planned to stay in, cook something yummy, get some stuff done. Which I proceeded to completely not do by getting sucked into my old journal entries from 2005. Not that it's brilliant writing, but that was such an eventful time, at least inside my own head, which is what was on the paper; and at about eight-thirty Eric came home and I realized I hadn't even eaten dinner, let alone done anything else I had planned. Tonight, however, is empty, and I brought a bohemian lunch today (rustic bread, cheese, and fruit) because there was nothing else to bring (since I have eschewed the way of the peanut butter sandwich except when going to Cedar Point) so I'd better cook something tonight (can't think what should go in these parentheses but the sentence structure seems to demand it).

The weekend is almost upon us, again, already, which makes me happy. But I don't like wishing my life away. However, that's how it is, at least right now. Saturday will be busy: I have the Toledo Seed Swap to go to, Eric has BASHcon (gaming convention), and then we both have the symphony that night. Sunday I expect to spend in a lot of sloth. And then the next weekend, I can start some more seeds. When I feel I'm wishing my life away, I don't know whether I’m waiting for the next stage of my life (retirement?) or just waiting for spring.

A weekend within budget.

According to the budget, we're doing okay. We have a very small amount of wiggle room, not enough to get us plane tickets to Mom and Dad's as planned, but we'll see how it goes. We went grocery shopping yesterday, first to Andersons, where we bought a bunch of produce, some stew meat and some ground beef for Eric, and some mozzarella for lasagna (we priced it at about $1.25 per person the way we make it, less if we use my own pasta sauce from the freezer). "This is going to be some seventy or eighty dollars," Eric said, but when we paid it came to $38. "For all this?" he marveled. Then we went to Kroger to get testosteroni and Gatorade bottles (he wants five bottles so that he can go a week without washing them if possible, and then will make new Gatorade from huge tubs of powder we got from Meijer to refill them with) and other processed stuff, and that came to $80. Which kind of contradicts the whole it's-cheaper-to-buy-unhealthy-food thing, but maybe I missed something.

I did winter sowing this weekend, and some baking (conclusion: sourdough is not suited for use in classic sandwich bread, at least not when made in a cold kitchen), and a little writing, but not enough. And I didn't apply to the things online that I had meant to. But we got a bunch of laundry done, and paid the credit card bill, and determined what Eric needs to do to find out if he can get unemployment. So it was a pretty good weekend as far as productivity goes. And we did a bunch of goofing off, which was a pretty good weekend as far as being a weekend goes.

Eric took his car to AAA on Friday to get the tire fixed and the heating system looked at--his car has stopped heating up in the mornings. I picked him up, we went shopping (potting soil, apple cider, and canvas for me for a couche), we went home, I mixed up some sourdough no-knead bread and some garlic-rosemary bread. The next morning, I went to the bank and to the farmer's market. I did very well: apples, lettuce, tomato, turnips, a huge loaf of bread (sadly Eric didn't like it--he doesn't like sesame seeds, apparently--but that just means more for me), more apple cider (cheaper!), canned chicken and noodles. As I was attempting to pay for the apples and cider, Eric called.

"There's good news and bad news," he said. "Here's the bad news. AAA called, and my water pump is completely busted. That's why I wasn't getting any heat. And they can't get the part until Monday so we'll have to carpool. The good news is, they replaced that pump last May and it's under warranty, so all we have to pay is $15 for the leaky tire."

"Sounds good to me," I said, and hung up and paid for the apples and cider.

I baked both breads (plus some chocolate chip cookies), and I’m happy with the garlic-rosemary bread now at 10 cloves (roasted and chopped) for one loaf. Now I've got to figure out what sourdough recipe I want to try next. I didn't taste the no-knead bread, because I won't be baking this weekend because I'll be at Confusion and I'm saving it to bring along for snacking there (since we normally don't get a lot in the way of real food anyway). I noticed that 80% hydration was too much; it sagged and ran all over when I baked it, though it did rise about as much as a ciabatta does, I believe--about three inches. (I'm still not sure what a ciabatta is exactly.) I've also got to work on some sandwich breads--there are two in The Bread Bible that I want to try, flax seed bread and cracked wheat bread (only I'd probably use wheat germ instead of bulgur wheat).

I'm feeling very un-well-read lately, which is a signal that I need to catch up on some of the nonfiction downstairs that I haven't read. It does not mean I need to go the bookstore. Really, it doesn't. We're paying for a bunch of stuff this month and one of our usual bookstore trips will set us back more than we need. That doesn't mean we're not going--or that we won't buy books at ConFusion--but that's what I'll tell myself as long as I can.

I woke up yesterday morning with the phrase "A recipe is an emotional deficit" in my head. In my dreams it had meant that people were supposed to learn to cook from other people, and following some stranger's recipe was a cold way to cook. Once I woke up, I rejected it almost completely. Recipes can excite great emotion, especially when they're for something you love and couldn't get any other way and they turn out well. Who is my subconscious to say that oral tradition is superior to the written word? But it is true, I think, that learning to cook from someone is more engaging and emotionally involving than learning from a cookbook. Though that doesn't explain why I like bread baking. The garlic bread turned out well--the dough was a little too wet, so it didn't rise very high, but it was soft and yummy and garlicky. It needs a little something other than the actual garlic, but I'm not sure what. I'll figure it out as I go through the loaf.

Last night was fairly productive--I felted the koala and finished the quilting, and Eric did some dishes. Tonight must be more productive, though--I must get at least halfway through the binding, do laundry and more dishes, wrap presents, and preferably vacuum. Ugh. Why must I feel so rushed? At least my Christmas shoppign is done. Except for the family shopping. But Eric suggested Amazon, and I think that's an excellent idea. Amazon has definitely been our friend this shopping season.

Woohoo! My sourdough is starting to taste sour! I made a No-Knead sourdough bread based on a recipe I found somewhere on The Fresh Loaf, but with more flour because I think my starter is more hydrated than it's supposed to be. I've been feeding it equal volumes of flour and water, not weight, and it's been fine, but I think I'll switch to weight from now on. Anyway, it was an extremely slack dough, kind of like a ciabatta, I think, so I baked it in a loaf pan, and it turned out golden and crusty and it's got a sour taste to it! Hooray!

In other news, we're one Christmas present away from done, and I have the task today of testing Christmas lights. Happily there aren't very many of them. I also need to go grocery shopping (tomorrow), finish some piecing, do the laundry, clean the kitchen, send Mom's tree skirt to her, finish my tree skirt, and make peppermint patties. Oh, and bake another loaf, this one of sourdough rye. December's starting well as far as I'm concerned.

Don't run and they won't chase you

I dreamed last night that I was in the Cincinnati airport (which I have never been in, except for a single gate when my plane to Baltimore was diverted in 1999) and the central hub was a series of smooth hills and curves like slides, frictionless so that you jumped in and glided to wherever you needed to be, and I thought, this would be a great place to write a chase scene.

(There were also enormous alligators roaming around. They didn't attack as long as you didn't run.)

Saturday, the mothers, Michelle, Eric, and I went up to Ann Arbor. First to Shar to get Michelle a violin (to rent; her accelerated program is doing Suzuki violin with fourth-graders and she wants to practice at home), then to Trader Joe's, where we introduced Edith and Michelle to the beauty that is Trader Joe's. Eric and I were more profligate than usual, buying chocolate-covered bananas (bad) and lemon cookies (good) and orange-peach-mango juice (very good).

At some point, we discussed chocolate-covered raisins (dark or milk) and Eric said something about But Jenny doesn't like raisins, so she won't eat them anyway. Brenda, voice full of laughter at her own wit, said, "Jenny. How can a vegetarian not like raisins?"

I said, "How can an omnivore not like cheese?" There was a pause, while Eric put an arm around each of us and grinned, and she said, "Good point," and we all laughed. Sigh.

My brother called me last night, finally returning my call of several days ago. His surgery is today. He wants to go to culinary arts school, he thinks. He told me that and then about how you can't get a good job as a chef and he wouldn't want to work in the apprentice-level jobs, so I doubt anything will come of it. Still, I'm thinking of sending him a book on opening a restaurant, since that's one possibility for getting to the top without working his way there. Maybe he can read it during his convalescence

Jennifer Housewife

Yesterday Eric stood in the kitchen with tears in his eyes, saying, "I'll be eighty-three before these kids are learning what they ought to be learning." We'd been talking about the curriculum he's been handed for a new class he's teaching, and how he regards it as grossly human-centered and inappropriate for a beginner's class. He has a book, Benchmarks, that he would love to have implemented, but right now, where he is, there's nothing he can do, and he hates it. And I saw, again, how impassioned he can be about the things he cares about, and how much he cares about teaching.

He is now working full-time, including teaching a class he's never taught before, and which he learned yesterday is full of brighter students than he thought he was getting. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; it just means he has to redo a bunch of work he's done on his lesson plans. He's also taking four graduate-level classes in the evenings. He is going to have a very busy semester.

I am now going to be solely responsible for dinner on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and primarily responsible on Mondays. (Tuesdays he has pizza with his gaming friends, and Fridays he has no classes.) I'm a little nervous about this. I've never been responsible for someone else's meals; up until now we've shared in the planning and cooking, not least because Eric is a picky eater and won't eat something if he's not in the mood for it. But if he's to get any decent nutrition this semester, I'm going to have to have food ready and he's going to have to eat it.

I have also--without mentioning it to him, because he balked enough at the dinner thing--decided that this semester, I will attempt to become his housewife. I will cook, and clean, and do the dishes, and pay the bills, and do the laundry, and buy the groceries, and try not to complain that he's not helping. I'm also nervous about this. For one thing, I'm terrible at not complaining. This is actually nontrivial; I don't like not talking about things, and it's liable to make me even more irritable than usual. But I think it has to be done. My schedule is much freer than his, so I can take on the additional work without trouble; and if I draw attention to it he's going to feel bad about putting it all on me, and his stress level is high enough without making it worse.

And yes, if I don't say anything, he probably won't notice. This is the guy who leaves empty boxes all over our pantry because it simply doesn't occur to him that taking the last can/bar/bottle/package means that the box no longer has a purpose.

So we'll see how this goes. In a way I'm kind of looking forward to it. There are lots of projects around the house that aren't getting done because they're our projects and we often find better things to do than put up shelves or organize old files; but if it's just me who's responsible, these things are more likely to be done because I'm less tolerant of clutter than he is and the sense of ownership isn't diffused. So maybe by Christmas we'll have a cleaner, more functional house. Or maybe we'll have the same house and two more frazzled people in it.

The weekend outlook

4,355 words today, almost all in my notebook because my hands and eyes hurt too much to type.

Tomorrow I go to Put-In-Bay with ten seventh- and eighth-graders and no vegetarian lunch, because this is the Midwest and nobody thinks of such a thing.

Sunday I go to the old mill and demonstrate knitting and spinning.

4,355 words. I don't think I've written that much this year so far altogether.

That is all.

On a Tuesday afternoon

I have achieved empty trashcan! I have also acheived boredom. That hasn't been hard the past several days, but today was especially easy because half of the working force is either off or taking the afternoon off.

To pass the time, I'm transferring automatic withdrawals from my old checking account to the new. Today I need to head to the bank, to deposit my paycheck (real check because I also switched my direct deposit, over the critical period apparently) and a check from my parents to cover the last of the wedding costs. And then to Home Depot to get dirt and mulch for the yard. Figures I'm dressed especially nicely today.