Unraveled Wednesday: 3/5/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today, but I'm not subjecting you to yet another photo of the Classy Hitchhiker looking much the same as it did last week. I am approaching the end, and by that I mean I've got 88 more rows to go. They are long ones, but I hope to be done by next week. 

Instead I'm sharing my excitement at receiving some good mail that serendipitously arrived yesterday. What could be hiding in this box? 

It's my Wollmeise!

 

 

I love the colors as much or more in person, and I even love the name that Wollmeise has given the collection.

Dracula sounds just a tiny bit creepy but I think the skeins are beautiful. I haven't unwrapped them yet because I want to make myself finish the current Hitchhiker first, and I know if I open the package, I'll wind them and maybe even cast on. So they'll remain safely sealed until the Classy Hitchhiker is done. I better get knitting!

I read a book last week that I began with high hopes. Dream State started off as a solid 5-star read—beautifully written, immersive, and filled with sharp insights about family, identity, and Montana as a dream state. Puchner’s prose is exquisite, and the early chapters immediately pull you in with their emotional depth and well-drawn characters.

However, the middle section drags considerably. The pacing slows, and some parts feel bloated, making it a struggle to stay engaged. What started as a mesmerizing read turned into a slog at times, barely holding onto a 3-star level of interest for me. Certain sections felt repetitive, and I found myself longing for the momentum and magic of the beginning. It is a rare book that has male friendship as a topic, and even rarer to have an author that follows the ups and downs of that friendship over the years, especially when there is a woman between them. One of my biggest problems with the book was this woman's motivation for a crucial action she takes near the beginning. I pretty much finished the book to try and understand her better but any explanation was sadly lacking. In the beginning, the climate change aspect felt like part of the story, but by the end I felt like I was being hit over the head with it at every turn.

Thankfully, the book regains its footing in the final stretch. The ending is just as strong as the opening—poignant, thought-provoking, and beautifully executed. If the middle had been tighter, this could have easily been a 5-star book for me. As it stands, it’s a mixed experience—worth reading for the highs, but expect some big lulls along the way.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

It's a Celebration!

I'm tired of crappy news and decided to document some good things. These aren't things that need champagne toasts but if I had one of those party blowers, I would give it a few toots. Feel free to add any of your own celebratory events, no matter how small they might be. 

• We have our first snowdrops! Last week was fairly warm and sunny,so I'm sure that helped them along. It was really pleasant and the sun felt quite nice. It's still winter but I'm starting to see some signs of spring.  
  

• John has a cold and has suffered with it mightily for what has felt like the whole month of February the past week. That's not actually good news, but the best news is that I haven't gotten it! This is almost a miracle because he's been busy sneezing and generally spreading his virus particles around. I woke up on Friday with a headache, sore throat, and stuffy nose, but I gargled with salt water repeatedly and it only lasted a day. I've also been actively washing my hands, dishes, and wiping things off with antibacterial wipes, so fingers crossed that I don't come down with anything in the next few days. 

• My SiL wanted me to go with her to the Philadelphia Flower Show. I decided to decline the invitation because the last time I went (about 10 years ago), the Convention Center in downtown Philadelphia was so crowded that I could hardly move. Sure, the displays are lovely and the flowers are beautiful, but I was so overwhelmed that I felt like just sitting down and crying. The good thing here is that I said what I thought and clearly expressed how I felt felt instead of giving her a half-assed response and then dreading the trip. I suggested that maybe we could go to Longwood Gardens when it warmed up a little more and see loads of flowers without crowds.

• I was the executor for my father's will. He died seven years ago, but because of some arcane provisions in his will (and quite frankly, the a**hole lawyer who drafted the will), it has taken me seven years to fully execute his will and satisfy the convoluted financial conditions. The estate checking account is finally closed and I think (hope!) I'm done with this hanging over my head.
  

• It was warm enough (53°) on Saturday for me to wash the kitchen curtains and hang them out. It was also windy enough (20-30 mph) for them to dry in a hurry. Clean kitchen curtains and snowdrops are sure signs of spring for me (even though it went down to 15° Saturday night).

I hope you've got something in your life worth celebrating. Break out the party blowers and let me know in the comments!

Mornings, Newspapers, Applesauce, and a Poem

I subscribed to The Washington Post, but after owner Jeff Bezos' decision not to endorse Kamala Harris last fall, I cancelled my subscription in anger (along with about 300,000 other people). I have three days remaining and have been thinking about re-subscribing, but once again, I'm angry. On Wednesday, Bezos announced a major shift to the newspaper’s opinion section, saying it would now advocate only “personal liberties and free markets” and not publish any opposing viewpoints on those topics. Of course, The Washington Post is his toy and he is free to use it in whatever way he would like, even if that means it is his personal mouthpiece. I just don't want to pay money for a newspaper run this way. It's a shame because I will miss some terrific writers and Ron Charles' book reviews, but not enough to give the billionaire more of my money.

This has changed my mornings a little bit. I read blogs, do Wordle, do a Duolingo German lesson or two, and check the news. This depends on what kind of day it looks like and how much news I can handle. Sometimes I read headlines on NPR, sometimes BBC, but lately I've been reading The New York Times through my library. It's just another reason that I'm grateful for libraries, the resources they provide, and the money they save me (but I know I'm preaching to the choir).

I found this article (gift link) yesterday and it captured my imagination. It's about how poetry helped the author start her days in a different way, not mindlessly heeding notifications on her phone and scrolling. She started memorizing poems during the pandemic, and while I don't think I'll take that approach, I decided that I wanted to make more of an effort to start my day with poetry. I know some of you do this already and I'd love to hear if/how it's made a difference. 

But in an effort to find something to write about today, I've given you some background information about how and why I came upon this poem. It reminds me of my grandmother which is always a good thing and I warmed up some applesauce for breakfast while I read it. I have a cold, I'm irritated at Jeff Bezos, but I have eaten warm applesauce, and I'm finding my way. Here's hoping that you are, too. 

Applesauce

by Ted Kooser 

I liked how the starry blue lid
of that saucepan lifted and puffed,
then settled back on a thin
hotpad of steam, and the way
her kitchen filled with the warm,
wet breath of apples, as if all
the apples were talking at once,
as if they’d come cold and sour
from chores in the orchard,
and were trying to shoulder in
close to the fire. She was too busy
to put in her two cents’ worth
talking to apples. Squeezing
her dentures with wrinkly lips,
she had to jingle and stack
the bright brass coins of the lids
and thoughtfully count out
the red rubber rings, then hold
each jar, to see if it was clean,
to a window that looked out
through her back yard into Iowa.
And with every third or fourth jar
she wiped steam from her glasses,
using the hem of her apron,
printed with tiny red sailboats
that dipped along with leaf-green
banners snapping, under puffs
or pale applesauce clouds
scented with cinnamon and cloves,
the only boats under sail
for at least two thousand miles.

 

From Delights and Shadows (Copper Canyon Press, 2004). 2004 by Ted Kooser.

Unraveled Wednesday: 2/26/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today, with some more blue teeth and a couple more gray stripes on the current Hitchhiker.

I have several progress indicators; it takes up a whole block on the patio, I'm working on the 43rd tooth, and the ball of blue yarn is getting smaller. I do have another full skein of the blue yarn already wound, but I hope to be finishing this up shortly. By "shortly", I mean within a couple of weeks. I've ordered some gradient skeins from Wollmeise for another Hitchhiker idea I had, but that will take at least a couple of weeks to get here. I don't think there are tariffs on yarn from Germany, but I guess I'll soon find out. 

I finished one book this week. It was an ARC with a unique premise, but I thought the execution was lacking a bit. Daria Lavelle's Aftertaste presents a unique premise: Konstantin "Kostya" Duhovny, who can taste the favorite foods of the deceased, discovers he can reunite the living with their lost loved ones through his culinary creations. Set against the vibrant backdrop of New York's culinary scene, the novel explores themes of grief, love, and the lengths one might go to find closure.

Lavelle's writing vividly captures the sensory experiences of food, making the descriptions of spices and food truly mouthwatering. The food writing is five stars, but some of the ghostly elements are not as well-written and felt underwhelming to me. The fusion of supernatural elements with the high-stakes world of professional kitchens offers an intriguing narrative. However, while the concept is compelling, the execution occasionally feels uneven. Some character developments and plot transitions seem rushed, leaving certain emotional arcs underexplored.

Despite these pacing issues, Aftertaste remains an imaginative journey through the intersections of food, memory, and the supernatural. Readers interested in a blend of culinary fiction and ghostly tales may find this novel a flavorful read. Three and a half stars rounded down.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 20, 2025. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

The Weekly Loaf

This week's loaf has a slightly different shape, but it's still bread. I was perusing the King Arthur Baking website, looking for something new and different and I came upon this Braided Stromboli recipe. John recently ordered a stromboli when he had lunch with some friends. He brought home the leftovers, but it wasn't anything that impressed me. Gloppy is how I would describe the mix of ricotta and mozzarella that made up the filling. I thought I could make something better, and this recipe was my first attempt. 

Please ignore the wonkiness of the braiding (laying the dough over the filling). I rolled the dough out too thin and wasn't as careful folding the dough over as I could have been. I didn't make this right after I came upon the recipe because I had to find some semolina flour first, but I'm glad I finally did. Many of the comments on the recipe raved about how nice the dough was to handle, and I agree. I might try this dough the next time I make pizza. 

The recipe called for half a pound of thinly sliced provolone and one quarter pound of salami. I used a bit more of each, and that was okay, but the bottom was a bit greasy. The next time I might try prosciutto and mozzarella to reduce the greasiness, or maybe sausage, mushrooms, and mozzarella. I might even try spinach, mushrooms, and mozzarella (except John would probably wonder if I forgot the meat). 

I'm always looking for dinner recipes that are easy and taste good. This one fit the bill and I hope I can make it taste and look a bit better the next time I make it. Here's hoping that all your dinners this week are delicious!

A Gathering of Poetry: February 2025

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. This poem was inspired by the winds blowing fiercely and the freezing rain pelting me as I took the recycling bin out one evening. Once I read through it, it seemed almost as if Ada Limón had been standing across the street watching me. I wish that was the case as I think she would be a fascinating person to talk with, but until that happens, we've got her poetry. 

Dead Stars

by Ada Limón

Out here, there’s a bowing even the trees are doing.
                 Winter’s icy hand at the back of all of us.
Black bark, slick yellow leaves, a kind of stillness that feels
so mute it’s almost in another year.

I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying.

We point out the stars that make Orion as we take out
       the trash, the rolling containers a song of suburban thunder.

It’s almost romantic as we adjust the waxy blue
       recycling bin until you say, Man, we should really learn
some new constellations.

And it’s true. We keep forgetting about Antlia, Centaurus,
       Draco, Lacerta, Hydra, Lyra, Lynx.

But mostly we’re forgetting we’re dead stars too, my mouth is full
       of dust and I wish to reclaim the rising—

to lean in the spotlight of streetlight with you, toward
       what’s larger within us, toward how we were born.

Look, we are not unspectacular things.
       We’ve come this far, survived this much. What

would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?

What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said, No.
     No, to the rising tides.

Stood for the many mute mouths of the sea, of the land?

What would happen if we used our bodies to bargain

for the safety of others, for earth,
                 if we declared a clean night, if we stopped being terrified,

if we launched our demands into the sky, made ourselves so big
people could point to us with the arrows they make in their minds,

rolling their trash bins out, after all of this is over?

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From The Carrying (Milkweed Editions, 2018) by Ada Limón. Copyright © 2018 by Ada Limón.

You can read more about Ada Limón here. 

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your favorite poems. The more the merrier!

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Unraveled Wednesday: 2/19/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today, just plugging away knitting happily on the current Hitchhiker. 

These are definitely indoor pictures today because the wind chill outside is 14 degrees and I'm a wimp.

I finished A Year of Marvellous Ways, based on Jane's recommendation, saying that she enjoyed reading novels that feature older remarkable women. (Thank you, Jane.) This is something that I also enjoy, and Marvellous Ways is one strong, kind, generous woman. I needed to read a book that reminded me there is still goodness, kindness and love in the world and cruelty can be healed through patience, compassion and love. This story fit the bill perfectly and was four stars for me. 

I'm currently reading Long Bright River which is a book filled with addiction and sadness, so I hope to balance this out with Followed by the Lark, a book about Henry David Thoreau (unless something better shows up in the meantime).

What are you making and reading this week?