Unraveled Wednesday: 5/21/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with the finish of the Lapislazuli stripe that I unraveled and fixed last week and the beginning of the penultimate blue strip in La Ola. I think this means "the wave" in Spanish, which strikes me as a little different because most of Wollmeise's names are in German. 

I suppose I could call it die Wellen (the waves) or more poetically die Wellen des Meeres (the waves of the sea) but either way, it's a light blue that is not dramatically different from Lapislazuli. I'm a little unsure about it, but I'm using Kym's real estate advice and knitting more fabric before I make a real judgement. 

 

I finished three books this week and might finish another one, so I'll be back Friday with a separate book post.

What are you making and reading this week?

Sometimes Monday . . .

 . . . is the day I expand my search for chive plants. I would use chives more if I had a ready source of them at hand and didn't have to buy a bunch every time I made baked potatoes or an omelet. I planted two different types of seeds several months ago, but all I've gotten so far are the spindliest, weakest chives I've ever seen. 

They can barely withstand being watered! 

I spent last weekend going to Lowe's, Home Depot, and the two (quite pitiful) plant nurseries in our town. I did find herbs - lots of basil, some thyme, rosemary, and even lemongrass and citronella, but no chives anywhere. 

But I have a plan today. There is a lovely garden center an hour away, and it happens to be in the same town where John has a doctor's appointment. I called them yesterday and they do have chive plants. I'll be going along with John to his appointment, and then we'll go to the garden center. John likes company but I don't "ride along" very often. For some chive plants and maybe some other delightful surprises at the garden center, it's worth it.

Keep your fingers crossed that my plan works out, and I hope you're having a good Monday!

Small Celebration of Small Good Things

Things are still Going to Hell in a Handbasket, but I only have control over so much and those things are going reasonably well. Here is a small celebration of some small good things.

Good Thing 1: My youngest son celebrated his 32nd birthday yesterday. That is a good thing, but the fact that Justin is a truly wonderful young man that I'm incredibly proud of is the best.

Good Thing 2: When we went up to Ryan's on Monday, I was thrilled to find that he had baked a carrot cake. It's one of my favorites, and he was kind enough to send me home with some of it. I've been enjoying carrot cake for breakfast!

Good Thing 3: Jess and Justin will be visiting Cuyahoga Valley National Park in Ohio over Memorial Day, and that means I get to kitty-sit for Nugget. It's just a long weekend, but I do welcome any chance to visit her, scratch her ears, and give her plenty of pets and treats. 

Bonus Good Thing: Typing "Hell in a Handbasket" above prompted me to smile at a nice memory. I was driving one day and Ryan was in the backseat. I don't remember exactly how old he was, but it was whatever age kids learn state capitals, so he was probably around 10 and in fourth grade. I was quizzing him about state capitals while I drove, but our town has three traffic circles in a row and traffic gets crazy if you're not familiar with how to drive on them. Traffic was worse than usual and after narrowly avoiding rear-ending a car that had just stopped in the circle I said, "This town is going to Hell in a Handbasket!" Ryan was quiet for a little while, and finally he said," I think that Helena is the capital of Montana, not Nebraska." Now whenever I write that expression, I always think of Helena Nebraska. It's one of those gentle memories that always makes me smile. 

I'd love to celebrate the small good things in your life, so please feel free to share them in the comments!

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 5/14/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with a bit of negative progress. I spied a couple of odd mistakes way back near the start of this color and briefly thought about dropping down to fix the stitches, but decided that Unraveling was safer and certainly fitting for Unraveled Wednesday.

There is still the question of what prompted me to randomly purl a couple of stitches in the middle of miles of garter stitch, but I don't have the answer to that perplexing dilemma. I'm once again knitting forward with the Lapislazuli, and I hope to move on to the penultimate blue next week. It looks almost exactly like the photo I posted last week, and it's raining once again, so I didn't throw the Hitchhiker in the lawn for another photo today.

Vicki has maintained that the Hitchhiker is "electric", which I agree with and is one of the reasons I love Wollmeise and their saturated colors. I mentioned something about changing its name to the Electric Hitchhiker and Vicki came up with a much better name:

 

So, that's officially the name now. Thanks, Vicki!

I finished one book this week and even though it feels a bit dramatic to say that I've just finished the best book I'll read this year, I'm so sure that is true that I can also say The Names by Florence Knapp is among the best books I'll ever read. 

We are introduced to Cora in the Prologue as she makes her way to the registrar's office to register her son's birth in October 1987. She is accompanied by her nine-year-old daughter Maia, and along the way they discuss names for the baby. Maia suggests Bear; Cora is partial to Julian, and then there are the instructions from Cora's husband, "We have Gordon for a boy." Gordon is his name and his father's name, but there are inklings already:

Cora has never liked the name Gordon. The way it starts with a splintering sound that makes her think of cracked boiled sweets, and then ends with a thud like someone slamming down a sports bag.

This choice of what to name the baby unfolds into three parallel narratives—Bear, Julian, and Gordon—each exploring the profound impact of that single decision over 35 years, with chapters advancing in seven-year intervals. 

Florence Knapp’s storytelling is both innovative and emotionally resonant. Her prose is richly layered, delving into themes of domestic abuse, resilience, and the intricate ties of family. The structure allows for a deep exploration of how small choices can ripple through time, affecting not just the individual but everyone around them. The author's premise struck me as a simple yet ingenious idea, and her execution of that idea is perfect. I was struck by Knapp’s ability to maintain the essence of her characters across divergent timelines. Each version of the son’s life is distinct yet interconnected, offering insights into identity and the enduring effects of trauma. I was initially a little hesitant as I had just finished Nesting and wasn't sure I could read another book about spousal abuse, but this book is about so much more.

Another thing that I greatly enjoyed about the book was the description of artistic details that the author wrote. There are references to artwork, jewelry making, paper artistry, and tesselated wood constructions. There is a reference to the poem "Empty Nest" by Carol Ann Duffy. In case you get a little lost as a reader as to whether you are reading about Bear, Julian, or Gordon, there are delightfully simple yet grounding illustrations by Sam Scales at the head of each chapter. Florence Knapp talks about all of the artists that inspired her in the Author's Note, which I thought was a real bonus.

The Names is a poignant, beautifully written novel that stays with you long after the final page. I greatly admire the prose and craft of writing a book like this; it's really three incredible books in one. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling and the complexities of life’s choices, and I'm sure it's one of the best books I'll ever read.

What are you making and reading this week?

Sometimes Monday . . .

 . . . is a day that you remember you didn't take a single photo over the weekend, even though it was one of the best weekends you've had in quite a while. So I'm committing one of the cardinal sins of blogging by writing a post that doesn't include any photos I took.

Mother's Day has long been fraught with varying emotions for me. But this year I was lucky enough to have a perfectly lovely day that was wonderful in many ways. My sister and I had a very nice conversation by text. She would love to ignore the day for many reasons, not the least of which is the loss of her youngest son. She has come a long way since his death and it was so nice to really understand her and what she was saying without any judgements. 

I had decreed that I didn't need to go out or be treated to any big celebration, but Justin asked on the spur of the moment if we wanted to go to his house for hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill, and I did. It was such a nice day and I even came home with leftover macaroni and cheese. 

I'm headed to Ryan's today to plant seedlings in the garden, and he says he'll make me lunch and maybe even bake something. I feel very lucky to have finally had the low-key, perfect Mother's Day I've wished for, especially when it includes both of my sons making food for me. I won't even need pictures to remember this weekend. Here's hoping yours was equally as wonderful. 

Unraveled Wedneday: 5/7/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers to show you what the Dracula Hitchhiker looks like now that I've finished the Lavendel and started with the first of the blue stripes. This one is Lapislazuli.

I ran outdoors in between the thundershowers and rain to take the picture, but I do appreciate seeing a photo of the whole thing on Wednesday. It looks different than concentrating on one color while I'm knitting it, and I like the addition of each new color a little more each time I see it. 

I finished one book this week and I'm glad I finally read it. I saw some less than favorable reviews of The Mighty Red early on, but Jane wrote about it last week and rekindled my interest in it. In The Mighty Red, Louise Erdrich has written a saga centered on the Geist family and those around them. Set against the backdrop of a slowly transforming Midwestern town, the novel explores identity, inheritance, and the tension between legacy and reinvention. As with much of Erdrich’s work, there's a powerful undercurrent of mythology and Indigenous worldview, though it simmers more quietly beneath the surface here.

The strength of the novel lies in its characters—flawed, tangled, and vividly drawn. Erdrich excels at capturing the internal lives of her protagonists, and several members of the Geist family left lasting impressions. I found Kismet Poe to be one of the most interesting. She is impulsive and restless, indecisive and passive, aware of the economic and class divides between herself and the Geist family that she has married into, despite knowing that it was a mistake.

That said, I found the the novel's pacing uneven. While some sections were full of emotional and narrative intensity, others feel overly digressive or weighed down by repetition. The thematic richness—particularly gender dynamics and familial duty—is present, but at times it felt dispersed rather than distilled. Erdrich's prose remains sharp and elegant, even when the plot occasionally meanders.

Still, there’s a lot to admire. The Mighty Red isn’t my favorite Erdrich novel, but it's a solid entry in her body of work, even if it doesn't quite reach the heights of The Night Watchman. I found it to be a novel that asks more than it answers, and maybe that’s the point. Three and a half stars rounded up.

What are you making and reading this week?

Piles of Stuff

Last weekend we got into a discussion when I asked John if he could consolidate his piles of stuff. I tried to ask this question in a non-confrontational tone, but he didn't hear it that way. So I decided to document our piles of stuff throughout the house to better assess the situation.

These are things I need to give to Justin the next time I see him. It's a small manageable bunch of things on our dining room table, handy to where everyone will see it when they come in the house. 

Ryan's pile is even smaller, just some Tupperware I need to return to him and a new AAA card. These are in a tote bag on the mud porch, ready for when we go to Ryan's to tend the garden next week. 

 

For the sake of honesty, here are my own piles of books and knitting stuff on the table next to my chair.  

John has quite a few more collections of important things. One on the dining room table,

another small one next to his chair in the living room, 

a small pile of reading material and somewhat important mail by his place at the kitchen table,

and a much larger pile on a chair in the bedroom of clothes that are new or worn and may or may not be dirty.

He also has a pile of boots, empty boot boxes, and slippers on the mud porch. 

And then there are the antlers. He loves antlers, and I can even understand that. Justin worked on two different deer ranches and had many opportunities to collect large and impressive shed antlers. John can't stand to part with any of them. Here are two of the largest collections:

 

 

and I didn't want to bore you with at least three smaller bunches of antlers in various places throughout our living space. 

When I was an assistant supervisor at a lab in Syracuse, I remember going to a seminar about how people organized things (physical items and ideas) differently. I know that there are many ways to approach organization. Some people (like me) do better with "a place for everything, and everything in its place" while others need to be able to see everything and have it readily available to be able to act on it or boost their creativity. The second one describes John. 

So no piles of stuff were moved, consolidated or cleaned up last weekend, and I don't have a lot of hope that this will happen in the future. We have lived together for over 46 years, so by now I have learned to grudgingly accept that John's way is not my way. I enjoy having open, uncluttered spaces; John sees them as places for new piles of stuff and that's just life.

So how are things organized in your house? Are the people in your household compatible with the way you organize things, or do their important things all over just look like a mess to be cleaned up? I'd love to hear about the piles of stuff in your house and your life!

Bits and Pieces Right Now

The beginning of May seems like a good time for a Bits and Pieces post, so here's what's going on for me right. I've used both Bits and Pieces and Right Now as labels, but since I couldn't choose, I'm calling this one Bits and Pieces Right Now. 

Making -  Lasagna, bread, and brownies. We've got some friends that are caring for their 98-year-old mother who has dementia, at home. They have a visiting nurse that comes three times/week, but that's really just to check vitals. Some stories about their mother are funny, like the one where she swears she sees monkeys and otters in the back yard, and how she has forgotten that she has eaten so she often asks for six meals a day. She can't be left alone and needs assistance almost hourly throughout the night, so caring for her is exhausting. I'm not sure how I can best help, so I made ziti, garlic knots, and brownies before and decided that another meal was in order. This lasagna is really not my best effort, but next time I'll make sure to use a deeper disposable pan.

Looking Forward To - My turn in the library queue for some of my holds, like Broken Country, The First Gentleman, The Names, and Turning to Birds.

Also Looking Forward To - Seeing what happens in the NJ Gubernatorial Race. I knew we would be voting for a new Governor in 2026, so I was quite surprised when a ballot showed up in my mail last week. I had completely forgotten about Primaries, and it seems as if everybody and their brother might be running. All I knew about some of the names on the ballot was who had posted the most signs in the neighborhood, and there were quite a few I hadn't heard about at all. Luckily for me, they all had websites saying they were the best and their opponents were the worst, but I did finally decide on one after seeing what he has accomplished as Mayor of Jersey City. The actual Primary election isn't until June 10th, but after that the field of 15 candidates will be narrowed down.

Hoping - That John plants something in the garden that I actually want. I use a lot of cherry tomatoes, chives, and shallots, but he doesn't know if there will be room for them. I have started chive seeds in a pot that I can use here, and I also have tomato seedlings, but I guess I'll just have to wait and see what gets planted in the garden.

Drinking - Peppermint tea, raspberry lemonade, and Yuengling. I hardly ever drink alcohol any more, but I really felt like having a beer. After a quick trip to the liquor store, now I have six five of them.

Watching - Jon Stewart's Weekly Show podcast on youtube. Jon Stewart has in-depth conversations with a wide-range of guests, like Bernie Sanders, Chris Christie, Michael Lewis, Rory Stewart, and Pete Buttigieg. I like the fact that both Jon and the guests are respectful of each other, actually listen and don't talk over each other, and I learn things and viewpoints that I didn't know and hadn't considered.

Wondering - If we are going to be experiencing another toilet paper shortage. Jon Stewart made an offhand comment about it in one of the episodes I watched yesterday, and I wondered what the reasoning might be. After reading about how tariffs on Canadian softwood lumber might affect the availability of northern bleached softwood kraft pulp (NBSK), a material derived from wood chips that is used to make toilet paper and paper towels, I understood. NBSK makes up about 30% of standard US bathroom tissue and 50% of paper towels. I can live without paper towels quite easily, but not toilet paper. Yes, I realize that by buying extra toilet paper now I'm contributing to shortages and possibly even creating one artificially. But aside from not seeing loved ones and the constant worry, the pandemic was awful because of shortages and I'm not looking forward to going through that again. 

Knitting - Socks again. I love bright blue and green together, so I've wound this sock yarn and will cast on soon for a pair of short summer socks.

Ready For - High pollen season to be over. My car is yellow, my eyes are red and itchy, and I wake up feeling congested and headachey. 

Grateful For - Sudafed, Motrin, and antihistamine eye drops. 

Avoiding - Housework. I really should dust, vacuum, and mop the kitchen floor, but every day I say, "Fiddle-dee-dee!" like I'm Scarlett O'Hara and sit down to read or knit. 

Strangest email I received this week - From a neighbor asking if I had lost my peacock (or if I knew who he belonged to). He's not mine, but I wouldn't mind it if he wandered into my yard so I could get a closer look.

 What's going on in your world right now?   

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/30/25

I'm here to show you what the Dracula Hitchhiker looks like with the finish of Fleiderbusch (Lilac Bush) and the addition of Lavendel (It's Lavender, but I bet you figured that out without my helpful translation from German.) I decided to take the picture in the grass instead of on the gray slate patio like I usually do and it looks quite different.

I think it looks better in the grass, so that may be where I take photos from now on. There's no Unraveled Wednesday linkup since Kat is on vacation, but every Wednesday is Unraveled to me.

I finished two books this week. The first is one that Kat recommended. Cold Granite is a gritty, atmospheric crime novel that delivers a strong debut for DS Logan McRae. Set in rainy, snowy, perpetually gray Aberdeen, the novel leans heavily into its bleak surroundings—and it works. Stuart MacBride crafts a dark, often grim procedural that doesn't shy away from the brutal realities of child murder, political pressure, and media manipulation.

Logan McRae is a compelling lead, recently returned to duty after a near-fatal stabbing. He's smart and determined but also constantly outpaced by bureaucracy, bad luck, and his more colorful colleagues. MacBride populates the story with a solid supporting cast, particularly the foul-mouthed DI Steel, who adds both humor and unpredictability to the mix.

The plot is dense, but that adds to the story. There are several cases intersecting, red herrings galore, and a lot of running around Aberdeen in the cold rain and awful weather. At times, it felt like the narrative was spinning its wheels, and the pacing sagged a bit under the weight of its complexity. A little tightening might have worked.

That said, MacBride’s writing shines in his vivid (and often gruesome) descriptions and in the snappy dialogue. His black humor is sharp, and the procedural elements feel authentic. This three and a half star novel wasn't perfect, but definitely promising. I’ll be picking up the next in the series.

I was relieved to finish the second book. Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. is classic Joyce Carol Oates in many ways: immersive, sprawling, unflinching in its look at grief, race, family dynamics, and injustice. Oates is clearly a master of her craft — her writing can be absolutely brilliant, dropping you into the minds and emotions of her characters with incredible precision. There are passages here that are breathtaking in their insight and emotional weight.

And yet . . . as a reading experience, for me this book often felt more like a test of endurance than a rewarding journey. At nearly 800 pages, it sprawls in ways that feel less intentional and more exhausting. While the premise is gripping — a family reeling after a violent encounter with the police — the narrative meanders endlessly, and many threads seem to simply wither away rather than build toward anything satisfying.

Oates clearly isn't interested in "clean" resolutions, and that's fine — life is messy, grief is ongoing. But for a novel of this size and ambition, the lack of any real catharsis or payoff by the end was frustrating. After hundreds of pages of character study and slow-burn tension, I wanted something that felt like emotional movement or growth. Instead, the characters seem just as lost, fractured, and haunted as when the novel began.

Ultimately, Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. showcases Oates’ undeniable brilliance as a writer, but as a novel, it’s a heavy, sometimes unrewarding experience. If you’re a diehard fan of her work or love character-driven sagas without neat endings, you might find more to love here. Otherwise, prepare for a long, often beautiful, but deeply unresolved read. Three and a half stars, but I can't round up.  

What are you making and reading this week?

Read With Us: Nesting

We announced our Spring Read With Us book a couple of weeks ago, and by now I hope you're all on your library wait lists and moving up in the queues. We'll be writing promotional posts designed to provide you with some reasons why we hope you'll want to read the book, and it's my turn today. Just as a reminder, we're going to be reading Nesting by Roisín O’Donnell.

We chose the book mainly because it was on the Women's Prize for Fiction Longlist. None of us had read it when we made the choice, but I was lucky enough to get a copy from my library within a couple of days. I raced through it and found it both gripping and emotionally powerful. I personally think that Nesting is an unforgettable choice.

The book follows Ciara Fay, a Dublin woman on the brink of reclaiming her freedom after enduring years of psychological and emotional abuse from her husband. As she plans her escape, Ciara must navigate fear, manipulation, and dig deep to find her own hard-won resilience. O'Donnell’s storytelling is unflinching yet deeply compassionate, capturing the silent battles so many endure behind closed doors.

For book groups like our, Nesting offers a rare opportunity to open up meaningful conversations around topics often left unspoken:

• Emotional Abuse and Coercive Control: How does emotional abuse differ from physical abuse? What are the invisible scars it leaves behind?

• Resilience and Renewal: Ciara's journey is not just about survival—it’s about reclaiming agency, identity, and hope.

• Psychological Tension: O'Donnell masterfully builds an atmosphere of suspense, making Ciara’s internal world as compelling as the multitude of external obstacles she faces.

• The Power of Language and Silence: The novel’s careful attention to what is said—and what is left unsaid—invites readers to reflect on the dynamics of communication in toxic relationships.

Nesting is a beautifully written, emotionally charged novel that will stay with readers long after the last page. It’s a perfect catalyst for discussions about strength, fear, liberation, and healing—offering not only empathy, but insight and hope.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts through May. Discussion day for Nesting is scheduled for Tuesday, June 10, 2025 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Nesting is an important and powerful book. I do hope you'll Read With Us and prepare for an intense, rewarding discussion.

 

Sometimes Monday . . .

 

. . . is a day to enjoy the fruits of your labors over the weekend. I made split pea soup (it turned out a little thick, but that's how I like it) and some bread that we had for dinner last night and there are plenty of leftovers for dinner tonight. 

 

 

I also did a couple of loads of laundry so there aren't too many household chores for me to feel guilty about not doing. Yes, I could vacuum, dust, clean out the refrigerator, and mop the kitchen floor, but I think I'll leave those chores for another time. John is away for much of the day and I've found that for my sanity I need to take advantage of the time when he's not here. He used to travel a lot and I got fairly used to figuring out how to do most things myself. Now that he's retired, he can often be found hanging around in the kitchen telling me how to dice ham, and he's also offered me advice on how to hang laundry on the clothesline, how to fold clothes, the best way to water my plants, and when the best time is to go to the grocery store. (Keep in mind, he hasn't been to the grocery store in at least five years.) I love him dearly but there is a limit on how much advice I need (or want). There are times when I can't seem to do anything right, so today I'm reading, knitting, and not cleaning out the refrigerator. I bet I'll do those correctly!

National Poetry Month: Adrienne Rich

Today we're concluding National Poetry Month with poems from Adrienne Rich. She was an influential American poet, essayist, and feminist whose work explored themes of identity, politics, power, and social justice. Over the course of her long career, Rich’s poetry evolved from formal, structured verse to more experimental and free forms, reflecting her growing commitment to activism and radical thought. She is known for blending the personal with the political, using poetry as a means to challenge oppression, particularly in relation to gender, sexuality, and race. Most of her work is new to me, but as soon as I read this poem, I knew it was the one I wanted to share.

This poem movingly depicts a relationship. Rich describes how she and her husband venture into the Nevada desert to protest against a nuclear test being carried out by the United States government while contemplating their marriage at the same time. Once, the poet’s marriage was a happy one, filled with music and cookies, with movies and "afternoons on the riverbank". This togetherness is now a thing of the past. Their relationship is now characterized by an emotional distance, a "silence" at the heart of things. The couple have come to the desert not only to protest against nuclear weapons, but also to confront this silence that’s eating away at their relationship.

Trying to Talk With a Man

by Adrienne Rich

Out in this desert we are testing bombs,

that’s why we came here.

Sometimes I feel an underground river
forcing its way between deformed cliffs
an acute angle of understanding
moving itself like a locus of the sun
into this condemned scenery.

What we’ve had to give up to get here –
whole LP collections, films we starred in
playing in the neighbourhoods, bakery windows
full of dry, chocolate-filled Jewish cookies,
the language of love-letters, of suicide notes,
afternoons on the riverbank
pretending to be children

Coming out to this desert
we meant to change the face of
driving among dull green succulents
walking at noon in the ghost town
surrounded by a silence

that sounds like the silence of the place
except that it came with us
and is familiar
and everything we were saying until now
was an effort to blot it out –
coming out here we are up against it

Out here I feel more helpless
with you than without you
You mention the danger
and list the equipment
we talk of people caring for each other
in emergencies – laceration, thirst –
but you look at me like an emergency

Your dry heat feels like power
your eyes are stars of a different magnitude
they reflect lights that spell out: EXIT
when you get up and pace the floor

talking of the danger
as if it were not ourselves
as if we were testing anything else.

====

Rich, Adrienne. "Trying to Talk With a Man." Diving into the Wreck. New York: Norton, 1973.  

You can read more about the poet here and here.

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Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today. Thank you for joining and reading our celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!)

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/23/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with the Dracula Hitchhiker. That's what Wollmeise called the collection of mini skeins so that's how I continue to think of them. I've finished with the first color, Petit Poison dark, fiddled around with several ways to start the second color, Fliederbusch (lilac bush), and finally hit on one that seemed to work okay. (It's just yo, k2tog, nothing complicated.)

Except . . . I don't really like these two colors next to each other. I have had to remind myself that this is not really a gradient series, just colorways that Wollmeise grouped together, and I do like the later colors better. I think I'll just keep knitting and see what I think when I start the third and subsequent colors. It's nice yarn to work with and I have to knit something. 

I started and gave up on four or five books last week before I finally settled on Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. by Joyce Carol Oates. It's kind of a long-winded tale (800 pages!) about a family of five siblings whose father dies and how they and their mother react. I've never read anything by this author, but she does seem to use four or five words when one would suffice. So far, I'm sticking with it because the writing is good enough that I want to find out what happens.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Better Late Than Never

I had to run to the grocery store for a few things on Saturday, and they had a display of Easter flowers right by the front door. I picked up a pot of three hyacinths to inhale their heady fragrance, decided I needed them, and carefully placed them in my cart. 

Later I came to the floral department and saw one of those mini orchids and it was in an adorable bunny rabbit planter. I felt like I had to decide whether I wanted the hyacinths, the orchid, or neither of them, but in a complete departure from my usual, I bought both. They make me happy every time I see them! 

Jess texted me last week to ask what time they should come over for Easter and could she bring anything. Easter has never been a big holiday for us and I honestly didn't feel like cooking a big meal, but for a few moments I did consider making Easter dinner for just Justin and Jess. Ryan was playing D&D and wasn't willing to drive for an hour for a meal he didn't really want. I ended up telling Jess that I didn't have anything planned but maybe we could get together next week so I could hear about her trip. (She just went to the Galapagos!) She said that was fine; she and Justin would go fishing. I didn't have to do something that I didn't really want to do and I needn't have worried that I was going to hurt someone's feelings.

I was working outside on Sunday when I noticed that a bunch of my grape hyacinths had spread (or the squirrels spread them) and were now blooming in the yard rather than the flower beds. My mother had a fairly strict rule that outside flowers were meant to be enjoyed outdoors and we were not allowed to cut them and bring them inside. (Why? I have no idea!) I often still stick by the "rule" and leave flowers outdoors where they bloom. But since these were in the yard, I picked them and brought them inside before John mowed them. I'll be 68 in a couple of months, so I guess it's finally time for me to do what I want to, even if what I want to do is relatively minor. 

These are all small things, and while I don't see myself throwing caution to the wind, heading to Atlantic City to gamble our retirement savings, and taking up with a suave and handsome Italian gigolo, it is interesting to see that I can break some "rules", do some things that make me happy, and nobody gets harmed when I do that. Who knows, I may even order some yarn that I've been lusting after, take a nap, or eat three of my homemade peanut butter bites just to make sure I've really learned this lesson. Better late than never!

 

Not for Mark

John and his brother Mark visit each other every few weeks. Sometimes John goes over to Mark's house in PA, and sometimes Mark comes here to NJ. They talk about deer and other assorted manly topics and spend a few hours together. I often offer Mark lunch when it gets to be that time, but he rarely takes me up on it. He does, however, like my candy dish. 

This is just a dish from my grandmother that I like and what better thing to keep in it than candy. It did have some Hershey kisses and two Reese's peanut butter eggs in it. Sometime after Mark left last Sunday, John asked me if I ate the last peanut butter eggs. I had not; in fact, I was kind of saving them for later. We figured out that Mark must have eaten them. While I don't begrudge Mark a few pieces of candy, I was a little sad that I no longer had any.

So I made some.  It's really just the taste of peanut butter and chocolate that I wanted, so I used this simple recipe. I had all five of the ingredients; it's relatively simple to make, and doesn't require any baking. Clean up was a little messy but it was just two bowls, a few spoons, and a measuring cup. 

I sliced them up into small portions and I'll be storing them in the refrigerator. I doubt Mark will go in there to eat my peanut butter and chocolate confections, but it makes enough that I might even offer him a few pieces the next time he's here.

 

 

 

It's been quite a week here, but now I can enjoy some homemade chocolate and peanut butter bars. I think they're even better than drinking!

A Gathering of Poetry for National Poetry Month: April 2025

Today our focus is on Aging. We're all aging, even the youngest of us, so I think it's a good idea to face it with poetry. I chose this poem because it captures my dear Mother-in-law's last days so clearly when she was in the hospital after a fall (and I also love the title). She was using a wheeled walker and when one of the welds broke she fell and broke her pelvis. I wish she had made progress to take five steps, but it was not to be.

 

Jellyfish Olympics

by Cristina M. R. Norcross

There are wires and cords
that stretch out, 
hang dangling
from the hospital bed,
the transparent filigree 
of a floating jellyfish.
One leads to the phone
to order food. 
One leads to the TV, so we can stare at
cooking shows with delicacies not available here.
One leads to compression wraps
for your vulnerable legs.
Another leads to the IV ports 
in your bruised, crepe-skinned arm.

In between your long spells of sleeping
and my knitting, 
we enjoy the pretend competition
of the contestants cooking.
We marvel at how quickly 
they move about the kitchen.
I marvel even more at your careful movements
and the miracle of progress after your fall.
We count the steps you take
as if you are skipping stones—
any number makes you a winner. 
You fight for everyday markers of strength,
your efforts a perfect ten.
This is the Olympics of rehabilitation.

Cotton gown diamond patterns 
become your fashion.
We look out the window as day becomes night.
Another day passes 
in the goldfish bowl of recovery,
a blue ribbon day of taking five steps 
just to turn around
and walk back to the bed.

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Norcross, Cristina M.R. "Jellyfish Olympics". Poem-a-Day on November 8, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets. 

You can read more about the poet here.  

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Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!) 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/16/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with an FO. 

My Barn Owl socks are done and I'm happy with them. At first the colors reminded me of chickadees, but now I think they are more in a barn owl colorway. I tried to get them to match but I would have hard to get rid of a lot of yarn to do that, so they almost match which is good enough for me. I was so taken with Sarah's socks for Molly that I had to purchase my own skein of yarn, and I've heard that another knitter may also be making copycat socks in the future. I hope Sarah gets her commission check from Fibernymph Dye Works soon! I had forgotten that it can be calming to knit socks, so there may be another pair in the near future, but I haven't yet wound the yarn. 

 

Another relaxing thing is working on a Hitchhiker so I've also been doing that.

 

 

I took the photo mid-row because I got interrupted seven times (no exaggeration), so I figured that meant I should just take the picture. It's still just the deepest purple (Wollmeise calls it Petit Poison dark, which is slightly intriguing). I have a plan for when I change to the next color, so I hope I get there soon so I can see if it will work.

I finished two three-star books this week that I had hoped might be better than they turned out to be. Fredrik Backman has a gift for writing about the emotional intricacies of human relationships, and My Friends is no exception. His usual warmth, empathy, and humor are present to some degree, and there are several moments that tug at the heart in that signature Backman way. The themes of grief, connection, and redemption are handled with care, and he also wrote some interesting things about art.

That said, this one didn’t quite hit as hard as some of his previous works. The pacing felt uneven, and at times, the narrative leaned too heavily on introspection and monologue, making it feel slower than necessary. None of the characters felt fully developed or as compelling as those in A Man Called Ove. Overall, this book was too simplistic and saccharine for me. I honestly struggled to finish as it felt like something had happened to what I remembered as Backman's previous high-quality writing. Maybe something got lost in translation, but as a US reader this quote seemed strange, “It really is a remarkably bad idea, all this. Worse than socks in a toaster.” There are others that are just as odd.

This isn’t a bad book by any means—it has some touching and beautifully written parts—but it didn’t leave the lasting impact I’ve had from previous Backman novels. Fans will still find value here, but it might not convert new readers. Two and a half stars rounded up.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Atria for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 6, 2025. 

Rope by Tim Queeney offers an unexpected deep dive into a topic most of us take for granted. I'm not sure I would say that rope is "the backbone of civilization", but the author does explore how rope has literally and figuratively held the world together. From Ötzi's death from a flint arrowhead, to pyramid building in ancient Egypt, how rope was used in punishment, and how important rope was in landing Curiosity on Mars, the subject is more fascinating than it might seem at first glance. The book shines when it leans into quirky historical tidbits and surprising innovations.

That said, the tone can be a bit uneven—sometimes breezy and humorous, other times overly detailed or dry. It reads more like a collection of rope-related anecdotes than a cohesive narrative, which may work for some readers but felt slightly disjointed to me. This book is crying out for illustrations! I often wished for visuals and diagrams to complement the content, especially in the more technical sections. I found myself searching the internet often while I read so I could picture pyramid building, khipu, and ropewalks. Still, it’s a solid read if you enjoy niche histories or just enjoy learning how everyday things came to be. Not quite gripping from start to finish, but it was informative. Three and a half stars rounded down.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on August 12, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?