adventures in baking

I made rainbow cupcakes for my birthday! (Yes, I made my own birthday cupcakes, because I REALLY REALLY wanted these, and they were fun. I like baking, just not cooking.)

Dyeing six different colors of batter.

Foil cupcake liners make the insides a surprise.

(Plus they're shiny.)

Carefully dribble each layer on top of the next (in ROYGBIV order, of course.)

Here's a close-up, Mr. Demille.

Fresh out of the oven.

Here's the inside. They came out just perfect, and tasty, too!

My next project is Star Wars cookies for May the Fourth. Get it? May the Fourth be with you!

what's crazier than planning a wedding in 10 days?

What's crazier than planning a wedding in ten days? Deciding you need to make a handknit sweater to wear to the wedding in ten days. The stress of getting married does strange things to one's ability to tell reason from madness.

So Jason and I decided it was time to get married already. We took our happy heinies to the courthouse and got a license, just figuring we'd get married at the courthouse in two weeks, the soonest convenient time, . Then we started talking and dreaming about what we REALLY wanted, and my parents mentioned the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, coincidentally the site of our third date. We checked prices online, and our favorite little garden was only 300 bucks! Booked! But, uh, now we needed to plan a wedding. 1, 2, 3, GO!

I had a dress already, so that was done, but, apparently believing this planning-a-wedding-in-10-days thing didn't sound crazy enough, I decided I NEEDED to wear a handknit sweater. I'd been playing with the idea of a basketweave cardigan in the orange Malabrigo, and fortunately I already had a gauge swatch, so I just cast on the correct-ish number of stitches and went for it.

My mom told me about her friend whose son is a photographer. Sold! Actually, the conversation went something like this.
Mom: "Kathy's son Alex does wedding photography."
Me: "Great. Let's go with that."
Mom: "Are you interested in looking at his portfolio?"
Me: "Nah, I'm sure he's fine. Book him."
Mom: "Don't you at least want to see his pictures?"
Me: "Nah. How many ways can you screw up a wedding? I'm sure he's fine. Book him."
Mom: "Look, I've pulled up his website on the computer. Come look at his portfolio."
Me: "I'm sure he's fine-"
Mom: "Come look at his portfolio!"
Me: "Fine." looks "He's fine. Book him!"

The body of the sweater finished quickly, and I cast on for sleeves. I made nice long cuffs because I have the arms of an orangutan and can never find sleeves long enough. Also, my hands are always cold and I like to have sleeves long enough that I can tuck my hands in them for warmth. I sort of winged it when I got to the sleeve increases. They came out a little wonky at first because I couldn't decide how I wanted them to work with the basketweave pattern, but I got it figured out. They're in the armpit anyway and with this deadline, I wasn't going to kill myself with the details.

My little sister had wanted to perform my wedding ever since she found out that was possible. We poked around and discovered that the state of Georgia really doesn't care who marries you as long as all your paperwork is legal, so we got her ordained as a minister of the Universal Life Church one night. (Confession: she was drooling on a towel after emergency wisdom-teeth-removal surgery, so I actually filled out all the stuff for her. Shhh!) Officiant? Check! And for free!

The sweater body was done; the sleeves were done, and I was running dangerously low on yarn. I put in an emergency order to Eat.Sleep.Knit. for two more skeins. Two days later, the yarn showed up at my door. I love Eat.Sleep.Knit, and the delivery speed further cemented my obsession. Those people are like yarn ninjas!

Jason's only suit was old and ill-fitting, so that had to be replaced. Honestly, this was the most trying part of the whole wedding. Guy clothes are hard to shop for and expensive, and Jason hates to a) try stuff on, and b) spend money. We've always had a backup plan, for if the wedding didn't work out: murder/suicide. That plan got a lot of VERY SERIOUS CONSIDERATION over the agonizing two-day deathmarch of suit shopping. We finally got a very spiffy-looking, not-too-expensive suit, and I finished the yoke of the sweater. Handsome groom? Check!

I ordered a bouquet of daisies from a local flower store, and Mom made reservations at our favorite restaurant for the after-wedding-dinner (I guess you'd call it a reception, but it was just like a dinner with our families.) I finished weaving in the ends of my sweater the night before the wedding, and by some miracle, it came out perfectly. I'd tried it on as I went, and used The Knitter' s Handy Book of Sweater Patterns to help me figure out the sleeve and shoulder decreases, but this sweater came out far more perfectly than anything designed and knit in ten days has any right to. The knitting goddesses were smiling upon me.

The next day, we got married, with a short little ceremony, perfect weather, a beautiful location, and our families. It was exactly what I wanted. Plus, I got this really great husband out of it!

Just add water, and boom! (Nearly) instant wedding!

what I did last Friday (another photo essay)

Ninjabread men! (a photo essay)

PS: Ninjabread men cookie cutters can be found here. Roll-out brownie cookie recipe can be found here. I added mini chocolate chips before baking for extra noms. Also, in picture 2, notice the wine bottle wrapped in plastic? Turns out I don't own a rolling pin. Oops.

snowed in

Atlanta experienced some serious record snow in January, like shutting-down-the-city-for-a-week snow. It was crazy. I was supposed to start my new job that week, but instead I spent that time snowed in with my honey. It was nice. I'd wanted to take a week off between jobs to refresh and regroup but didn't think it financially advisable. Fortunately for me, Mother Nature decided I deserved a break.

I had plenty of time to go through all the pattern books I'd gotten for Christmas.

I think I'm going to be busy for a while.

I made banana bread.

I would include an after shot here, but my sweetie and I inhaled an entire loaf of banana bread in less than 24 hours. We were in full-on hibernation mode. It was wonderful.

Now, that's enough winter for me, thanks. Please to be sending spring now!

damn rabbit hole

Please forgive my long absence. I have fallen down the rabbit hole that is Pinterest. I've been a busy little bunny there. If you want to check me out, I'm LightWading.

PS: I only got sucked into this because of Ysolda, so I thought about blaming her. But really, I think I should be more concerned that my girl-crush on Miss Whimsical Little Knits seems to be edging into obsession territory, with a possibility of stalking. I'm harmless, I promise!

warm and toasty

I get really cold in the winter, miserably cold, all winter long. I've survived so far through a creative mix of layering and whining. I wanted to make myself a nice cuddly winter vest to keep my vulnerable bellular area warm, and Abrazo seemed like a perfect match.
My sweetie bought me the yarn, I swatched it, and then I realized . . .

I got the wrong yarn. It's supposed to be Malabrigo Chunky, not Malabrigo Twist. I can't get anything even close to gauge with the yarn I've got. Crap. I'm trying to decide between scrapping it altogether or forging ahead anyway and making a larger size to compensate for the gauge difference. I'm afraid I'll run out of yarn, though, and a warm winter vest doesn't do any good if it's not long enough to cover my belly button.

Fortunately, I got this in the mail today, a gift from my sweetie. I'll be the first to admit he may have an ulterior motive.

A drool-inducing cookbook that seems to have been written just for me. If I can't cover my belly with warm fuzzy yarn, I'll fill it with warm, tasty noms.

I'm out on a Saturday night!

Tonight, to celebrate my new job (which, miraculously, does not require me to get up at the buttcrack of dawn every weekend), my Shiny New Fiance took me out to see Green Hornet. It was really awesome. I'm not sure why it got such lousy reviews. I'm not sure what critics were expecting, but it's a Seth Rogen movie. Olivier, he's not. He is, however, Seth Rogen, and he does a very good job of being Seth Rogen in this movie. It was a fun comic-book-movie sort of film, and a fun, comic-book-movie sort of fun was had by all.
While watching the movie, I worked on a new pair of socks


for my sweetie. You know it's real love when you find you're making socks for him. This is a true testament of my love for him, because I dearly love this sock yarn and want it all for my self (my . . . preciousssssss). But he loves it, and part of being in a relationship is compromise and not being a greedy yarn whore, so I am practicing graciousness and selflessness by making it into socks for him. I can already feel myself becoming a better person.

New year, new job

It's news to no one (except my boss, but he lives in his own happyland) that I've been very unhappy in my job for a few years now. I've been searching for the past year for something new, tirelessly (if not uncomplainingly), and my hunt has finally paid off. This year for Christmas, I got a new job! Excited? You bet I am.

Christmas 2010

Christmas sweater, almost complete.

Christmas sweater completed, with snowflakes on the sleeve.

Christmas snowflakes in my hair.
(earrings were a Christmas present from my sweetie)

My doorstop, a big rock with the words "Nothing is Written in Stone" carved into it, with a dusting of snow.

I got many knitting books for Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

perfect timing

Every so often, events conspire to work out perfectly. Usually, it happens in a Murphy's Law, "ironic" kind of way: rain on your wedding day and all that. Today turned out to be the opposite of that: a perfect example of perfect timing.
I had to have minor gum surgery last night. It was a local-anesthetic-only kind of thing, uncomfortable and squick-y, but not serious. I distracted myself by planning cables for my next sweater project. (You know you knit too much when . . . )
Now, this was my third go-round with gum surgery (the others were in my braces-wearing, wisdom-teeth-getting days), so you'd think I'd have learned that oral surgeons are lying liars. When they say, "Oh, yeah, you'll be able to go to work the next day", what they mean is "Prepare to spend the next three days whimpering on the couch, dribbling soup down the front of your pajamas." Oh, and "a little sore" is code for "eating anything more firm than applesauce will be impossible. Just give it up."
Fortunately, the weather cooperated with my stunningly miserable mood by being freezing cold, windy, and rainy/snowy. I snuggled on the couch wrapped in blankets, knitting and watching flurries blow by. And dribbling soup down the front of my pajamas.

Oh, also, if you have your own run-in with gum surgery, learn from my fail: don't eat really salty soup. Just don't.

last Christmas . . .

Last year for Christmas, Shiny New Boyfriend gave me a beautiful prezzie, with one condition attached.

I had to agree to marry him.

Well, it was a beautiful ring, and I like him a lot, too, so I agreed. We haven't set a date yet, because we wanted to live together first and get used to each others homicide-inducing quirks without the added pressure of planning a wedding.

He moved in about six months ago, and so far we're murder-free. This is surprising, because apparently, I roll myself up in the covers at night like a burrito, leaving him shivering and resentful, and he puts his dirty dishes in the sink to age properly before he puts them in the dishwasher right next to the sink, instead of putting them in the dishwasher in the first place.
In spite of this, we still like each other a real whole lot. We're looking forward to many long years of finding new ways to drive each other crazy.

(The Best Roommate Ever is now renting my parents' basement apartment about 15 minutes away. She's family.)

being sick sucks. Why can I not learn this?

Why do I persist in thinking, "Man, if I had to stay home sick, I'd get all kinds of knitting time in!"? No. When I am sick I feel far too crappy to do anything other than lie there in a little ball of misery until the illness gives up in boredom and goes to find someone else to torment.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling like I'd been beaten all night with a sack of oranges. I asked my sweetie, "Why, WHY did you beat me all night with a sack of oranges?" He said, "Well, you've gotta tenderize 'em somehow."
Turns out I was coming down with a nasty little stomach virus that has left me fetal on the couch for almost two days straight. It's been awesome. I'm mostly vertical now, which is new and exciting.
All this illness has given me time to ponder the great mysteries of our world. For instance: why do they make thermometers shaped like that? You have to hold them in place with your hand or they squirt violently from your mouth and hit your reflection in the bathroom mirror. They should make some sort of flange or grippy part that you can hold with your teeth so you can do something useful while finding out if you have an actual reason for feeling like death. I complained about this to my sweetie, who helpfully explained, "That's so they fit better in your butt."
Um, no. "This is an ORAL thermometer."
"That's what you think!"
"It's an ORAL THERMOMETER, dammit!"
"Oh, no! Have I been using it wrong? I'm so sorry!" Then he collapsed into giggles while I glared and told him, "I don't love you enough to lick your butthole." He's still giggling now.
One day my revenge will come. One day . . .

the best kind of distractions

No word yet from the job interview, and I have progressed from being on pins and needles to being on nails and railroad spikes. And possibly cacti.
Yesterday, after a grueling morning of having my gums violated by a sweet little sadist named Missy, who is concerned about my periodontal health and thinks the best way to fix things is by JABBING THEM REPEATEDLY WITH POINTY OBJECTS until I want to give up military secrets just to MAKE HER STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, my sweetie took me out, to take my mind off things and possibly to keep me from chewing on the actual walls in my call-back-related anxiety.
We had a tasty tasty lunch at Atlanta Bread Company (oh, bagels. Why must you be so delicious?), in front of their wonderful snuggly warm fireplace and ice cream from my favorite ice cream place which was located RIGHT NEXT DOOR. (Was there ever a clearer sign of God's sanctioning of tasty noms? I don't think so.)
Then we went to Eat. Sleep. Knit. I had never been before. OH. MY. GOD.
When I asked the very friendly staff lady the whereabouts of the Malabrigo, she said, "In the warehouse in the back." I might have had a yarngasm. An entire warehouse? Filled with Malabrigo? Yes, little Kimmy, there is a Santa Claus. I then asked, "Do I ever have to leave?" and she said, "No! You can live here!" I love her. She thinks I was joking. The joke's on her; I'm moving in next week.
It was, to put it lightly, incredible. Rooms upon rooms of yarn, all beautifully organized by type and color. A warehouse of Malabrigo and Blue Sky Alpaca and Misti Alpaca. The entire building was redolent with that delicious, dyed-wool, vinegar-and-sheep smell. Did I mention the WAREHOUSE of Malabrigo? I feel dizzy just thinking about it.
My sweetie bought me Christmas yarn, because he is the perfect man.

Malabrigo Chunky in Sunset, destined to become Abrazo

Madeline Tosh Vintage in Forestry, to make Norah Gaughan's Droplet hat

Claudia Handpainted, in a color I've been coveting for a loooong time: Copper Pennies. It's sock yarn, so it doesn't need a plan, but I'm thinking maybe Acorn Stash socks.

So now at least I have plenty to do while I fret. CALL ME, DAMMIT!!!

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

What do you do when you find that the place you fought so hard to reach is a dead end?

After much flailing and bitterness, I'm finally coming to terms with what I've been slowly realizing for several years now. My job has hit a wall, and in spite of all my efforts, there's no way for me to fix it. There's no chance of promotion unless someone dies (don't tempt me), no ability to move laterally within the company, and no possibility of getting another job in the same field unless I want to move to a different city.

I've been exploring my options, applying for jobs and debating going back to school. I really really don't want to have to go back to school (I did that already! I worked really really hard!), but I've found I've really painted myself into a corner by becoming so specialized. Hence the flailing and the bitterness.
And in this economy, I hate to complain about my job, because at least I have one. It pays me small but adequate amounts of money and gives me health insurance. But I need new experiences and new things to learn. I need new ideas and new challenges. I need things for my hungry little brain to munch on so it doesn't shrivel like a raisin and crawl out of my ear to find someplace more interesting.
I had a job interview last week. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

fall!

Spooky earrings . . .

. . . so many leaves . . .

. . . bye, bye, summer clothes . . .

. . . who knew candy corn came in so many different varieties?

Happy Halloween!

new blog post! woooo!

New socks!

After much fuss and bother and a seriously long hiatus, I finally finished the Peacock Feathers socks. (Also, admire my pillows. I got them on clearance (snoopydance!) from Urban Outfitters. They are by Masha D'yans and I loooove them.)
Anywho, back to the socks. They are by Cat Bordhi, from New Pathways for Sock Knitters. She calls it Veil of Leaves, but I think it looks more like feathers. The yarn is Dream in Color Smooshy, a gift from the inimitable Treats for Breathing.


I made a vow to myself that I would knit at least one pair in each new sock architecture from Cat Bordhi's book. One down, one on the needles (pics to follow), six to go!

don't be a jerk if you are crock-pot-sized and taste good with ketchup

Common wisdom would suggest that if one is conveniently crock-pot-sized, then one should not be a jerk and go around destroying the property of wrathful crock-pot owners.

Who, me? No! I would never.

Exhibit A: My new bathroom rug.


Nothing too spectacular, but soft and cushy and absorbent and doesn't show cat hair and (thank god) cheap. I love this rug, and THIS:

is what the black fluffy buttmonkey did to the rug this morning, while I was standing there brushing my teeth. What is it about cats, when you yell at them for doing something they KNOW is bad? Dogs at least have the decency to look guilty. Cats look at you like, "What?" or "Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Lemme finish eating this rug first." Misbegotten ungrateful brat.

And no, of course I didn't slow roast the kitty, although I haven't ruled it out. Instead, I let both of them up into the linen cupboard to sleep on our towels and coat them with cat hair.


Yep. I'm a sucker.

progress!

Here we have the lovely Paloma:

I reached a stopping point, put all the stitches on waste yarn, and put it in the stash to hibernate until more appropriate weather beckons.

The fit is great. Woo-hoo! I think I want to make it a leeeetle bit longer though. Full coverage on the girls and all that.

To celebrate, I whipped out a little hat in about three days (after about 47 false starts and gauge accidents. Why am I unable to accurately comprehend the size of my own head? It's a mystery, I tell you.)

And this teensy little thread is all I had left of the ball. I was so proud of myself; I wanted to use every last little bit of this delicious yarn. (A one-off hand-dyed by the lovely Reporebo, sadly on hiatus as she has come down with a bad case of grad school.)
Next on the agenda (and also giving me lots of trouble, due to my aforementioned ginormous melon-head), is this, also hand-dyed by Reporebo:

Yum!

Christmas socks: done!

The Best Roommate Ever has been sick with death lately (not swine flu, just some sort of plague complete with hacking cough, making her life miserable). She's been getting plenty of rest and applying warm kitty compresses to speed the healing.

In other news: BRE's Christmas socks are finished! Woo-hoo! Now I have visions of Mason-Dixon's Felted Trees dancing through my head. They're just so cute, and look at how wee they are! They'd knit up in no time, like potato chips. Must . . . knit . . . cute . . . Christmas . . . decorations . . .