Mother Nature Calls Trumps

Late last night, after all my minions were safely tucked away into their beds, I snuggled up on the couch with 864 pages of Comprehensive Panning materials that had to be read by today.

I can't tell you how exciting it was.
Fortunately, there was a fabulous movie on, so I watched while I, er, read. Skimmed. Perused.

The movie, In Her Mother's Footsteps, was awesome. Not a slasher/bloody/gory flick, but raging Alfred Hitchcock-like suspense.
While I enjoy a severed head as much as the next guy, Alfred Hitchcock knew how to make you scream without the gore. And that's pretty cool.

It ended at midnight. Another one followed.
I missed the name of the second movie, but it was lame, and the mind-numbing comprehensive Planning materials I was mired in had me nodding off...

When suddenly...

Something jolted me awake!
A flash of light. A ghost?
The tv?

A quick look at the tv proved that not to be it.
And then, an thunderous clap of...thunder.

It's a good thing I don't have bladder control issues.

But I did scream and wake up Thing Two.

p.s. I didn't make it through the comp Plan materials.

Need an Intervention

I have overdosed on horror movies this week.

The entire set of Friday the 13th. I actually lost count, and can't remember if there were 9 or 10.
Prom Night.
The Hitcher.
The Hills Have Eyes. 1 and 2.
Joyride 1 and 2.
Deep Blue Sea.
The Devil's Rejects.
House of Wax.

There were actually more. I don't want to humiliate myself any further.

Thing One is a wanna-be Horror Movie Junkie, like her Mama.
She came home from school the other day, all cocky, sashaying through the door, "Oh, we watched a horror movie this afternoon. It was cool."

It was Michael Jackson's Thriller video.
Cool?  Yes.
Horror movie? No.

My boys took off for the weekend with the ATV to do a little trail riding and partridge hunting.

That left my girl and I, home alone, with full access to the remote control.
We had work to do, baking to do, candy to make, school events to attend, and had a party at our house...but once all was quiet and clean, we lit candles, shut all the lights and headed for the couch.

We watched kid-friendly horror flicks (Scary Godmother's Halloween Spooktacular, The Boy Who Cried Werewolf) Thursday and Friday night.

Saturday night, she was feeling brave.
Jason, The final Chapter  (you promise??) was just starting. Regular tv. No nakedness and the actual stabby parts were cut out. (This made me mad all week, but was the only reason I agreed to her request.)

She asked if she could watch. I told her it was up to her, and we could change it if it was too scary.
I value the little sleep I get, and there is NO ROOM in our bed for visitors.
The kid was twitching during the credits. She made it 5 minutes, which was 2 murders.

She is not ready.

And so I continue to watch alone. It's scarier that way.


p.s. Best movie of the week: The Hitcher. This is actually a remake, with Sophia Bush. The original starred Rutger Hauer, who is scary all by himself. It. Was. Awesome.

p.p.s. Worst movie: House of Wax. Painful. Paris Hilton should thank her lucky stars her family has money, and is willing to give her any.

p.p.p.s. Most traumatizing: The Hills Have Eyes (1). I am still not able to watch the whole thing. This was my third attempt. It's starting to get embarrassing.

Also, 'Friday the 13th' movie-makers? Please find something else to do. That's done. Seriously.

Knitting as Art

I stand in awe.

The attention to detail is astounding, right down to the spinous processes on the cervical vertebrae.

I know, Zonda and I are the only ones who get what that means. Just smile and nod.

And trust us, it's impressive.

Thanks for sharing, Grace!

In Loving Memory

Smart AND Beautiful

I love smart people. Just saying.

They come up with things like this:

The Postal Service's latest and greatest contribution to society!

I'm pretty sure that's the most awesome thing I've seen this year, Michelle Obama's wardrobe aside.

Available now at USPS.com, and local post offices everywhere.

(This is not a paid advertisement. The USPS doesn't know or care who I am, though they very well should. I just like to show you great things, and I have great respect for smart people who come up with great things!)

Keurig and My Third Boob

I love my Keurig. I would marry it if it would take out the trash.

But.
But it's not Pulling It's Weight around here of late.

There is weak coffee. Half-filled cups of coffee. Not very hot coffee.
And a very annoying message on the screen screaming "DE-SCALE" in a hugely passive-aggressive way.

This afternoon, while doing 45 other things, I went to make a 6th cup of coffee.
Don't judge me.
I pressed the button. Nothing came out.

Ack!

Keurig is on strike! Must to quickly DE-SCALE!

There is nothing quick about this process. It requires standing in front of said machine for an hour, pressing the button for cup after cup of hot water.
Difficult? No.
Time consuming and mind-numbing? Hell, yes.

I reached for the handy dandy trusty bottle of vinegar kept on hand for just such occasions...and it wasn't there.

What was there, however, was C.L.R.
And y'all, I needed a cup of coffee BADLY.

So I dumped in a Bit O' CLR, and ran the machine through 5 changes of water.

I think I can still taste it.

But this is possibly because I stood at the machine for an hour while water boiled through it, right?

I googled side effects of ingesting CLR with coffee.
Couldn't find anything definitive.

So I'm waiting to see if I will grow a third boob, or a second head.
'Cause that's what I need, more maintenance.
Maybe it'll just be gas with oily discharge. (Hello, Alli! Lovely commercial!)

p.s. I get BIG POINTS for not using The Big Guy as a guinea pig.
Though I probably LOSE points because he wasn't home to try it out on. And I totally would have.

Perspective

 Mom, what are YOU going to be for Halloween?

Disenchanted and Disillusioned.



Oh.

Does it come with a sword?

A Wave Of Light

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

The statistics are staggering.

The loss can be devastating.

Please join us in remembering all pregnancies and infants lost in an effort to heal and be comforted in a time of pain and heartache, and to have hope for the future.

My friend Rob, a minister for the non profit organization Maine Seacoast Mission, introduced my family to the Peace Candle many moons ago.
Each evening at dinner we lit a giant 3 wick candle to celebrate peace.
It was a lovely effect.

Until Thing One, who was about three years old, began belting out Happy Birthday at the top of her lungs like Ethel Merman. Every night. During dinner.
And Thing Two tried to knock over the flame...with his hands.
And the curious cat, who was nothing but flammable fur with limbs, wanted to rub against the candle. On the kitchen table.

We were not a candle household at the time.
We had to pack them away. This stung, because previously I was a bit of a candle fanatic.

The cat is gone, and the kids are old enough to know how to act around a lit flame (which apparently means blow it out), so candles have begun to reappear around Chez Rozenski.
We've brought back the Peace Candle.
It's still a lovely effect.

Won't you join us on October 15th at 7pm, as we create a Wave of Light all over the world?

October15th.com

p.s. Candles are now available with batteries!

Brace Yourselves For The Awesomeness:

I know.

I walked in, saw it,  fainted, revived, fainted again, and tried to fuse myself to it so I wouldn't have to leave.

Unfortunately, it lives in my friend Cindy's kitchen, and I have two rather loud kids who are never NOT by my side.

She'd notice us.

You should see the rest of her house.

If I ever run away, you should totally look there first.

(Remember that stove I told you about in Mrs. W's house? The one that lived next door to us when I was a kid? Totally looked like this, except it was gas. Are you feeling the love??)

Making Memories

My friend Jessica came over to play last night, and we did this:



Homemade pierogi.

Jessica's family makes them by the ton every Christmas.
We decided to surprise The Big Guy, who has begged me to make them for him for 20 years.
I refuse, because what he really wants are his Grandmother's pierogi (and Babka), and nothing less will satisfy. Having never made them myself, I don't like the odds.

Jessica's family recipe sounded very much like the Rozenski version, with a potato and cheese filling.
(We couldn't find Farmer's cheese up here in the wilds of Maine and subbed cheddar. Worked great.)



The technique was certainly the same, and Jess made it fun!

The Things were perplexed: how is it that Jess is in the kitchen, and Mom's still upright?
She's even smiling and laughing!
How can this be?? Nobody gets in this kitchen...NOBODY!

Ah...unless they make pierogi. From scratch. And are willing to share tricks.



I'm not stupid, I got my slave labor involved.
This way they can make them for us every Easter, while we relax in the living room.
Yeah, right.



This kid is the Dough Queen. At the ripe age of 9, she has mastered pizza fritta, gnocchi, and now pierogi.
Fringe benefits of being the daughter of an Italian and a Polack, and the daughter of a Bakery owner.
I'm cutting her loose with my cinnamon roll dough next weekend.



Jessica has lots of patience. There was much hand-washing involved.
Like, "Did you just touch your face? GO WASH!"
And, "Did I just see you wipe your hands on your pants??? GO WASH!"
The kids are missing layers of skin, and the Scooby Doo soap dispenser is empty.



At one point the rolling pin was in the living room, watching a Pink Panther cartoon.



We made A LOT of pierogi.



We just kept filling pans.



When we started frying them, we were all overcome by hunger and began eating them right from the pan. Something about the smell of the onions frying in butter makes me weak in the knees.



They were worth every time-consuming, messy minute.
Melt-in-your-mouth-good. Authentically good.
Rozenski-recipe good, according to The Big Guy. High praise, indeed!



Thank You, Jess, for sharing your recipe, and for sharing your evening with us.

I wonder if she does Babka?

Looking for Mr. Goodbar

Or, Mr. Goodyarn.

I am in need of suggestions, my friends.

I have two baby sweaters just begging to be knit, and they are crying for cotton.

A rugged, withstanding cotton, to be sure...but also a baby friendly, machine washable, soft cotton.

What are your favorites?
What have you used and loved?
What would you never touch again, even with the threat of [insert your own creepy neuroses here] looming?

Mission Falls 1824?
Fantasy Naturale?
Wildflower?
Cotton Ease?

I'll take pros and cons for any and all you can think of!

Now I must crow a bit, because I'm just so darn proud:




I can now Cable Without A Needle.

Yeah, I know...big deal.
It is. I knit this particular cuff...wait for it...six times.

I should be embarrassed to even say it.

This is Kristen Kapur's Mystery Sock pattern for this year.
I always learn a new trick doing her patterns, and I always love the results!



And I always do them in two's.

Yup, six times I knit those cuffs.
That's determination.

But I tell you what...the rest of that leg had better be smooth sailing. My brain hurts.

(The red is Sundara's Fire Studies; the purple is Yarn Pirate's purple semi-solid. Both extremely yummy.)

Because I Can...

Michelle and Doug brought me these:



I was ecstatic.

Kay brought me these:



I had to fight The Big Guy and Thing One for these. They won.
They ate 6 of them for lunch.

I fished out all the ripe ones, and did this:



Then I did this:



Resulting in this:



This will get boiled down, and canned.

I love to can!


These are next.



I'm sure they won't be as good as Ralph's.
If they're close, I'll be happy.

I love that it doesn't matter that we can't grow a tomato on the island to save our lives because we have friends who can!

Thank you Kay and Michelle and Doug!

Mystery Sock 2010

It's October 1st.

And that can only mean one thing, in my house:
   Kirsten Kapur's Mystery Sock-a-long-a-palooza!

I was aided and abetted nicely by Sundara, who saw fit to mark down some of her delicious yarn, just in time.


"Fire Studies"


I know!



The pattern for the cuff is up, but I can't start just yet...I'm furiously working on a birthday present for some old fart that lives nearby.

It's October, Ladies. You know what I'm going to remind you to do, don't you?

GO GET A MAMMOGRAM.
You can drink wine when you get home. It's totally allowed, and as my former patients were always instructed, totally recommended.

I remember a group of five women who all booked their mammos together, one right after another, a year in advance. They came in together, took over the waiting room being all loud and sassy (had us all in stitches), had their mammos done one at a time, and then went out for, well, what constituted a Night On The Town in Calais, Maine.
They were a hoot!
We all looked forward to their annual visit.
I can't think of a better way to have a screening done.


More talk about breastages later this week- stay tuned!