Welcome gifts that are easy peasy. Really.

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Despite the fact that we are moving into the middle school years, we have plenty of friends who are still just starting this little ride we call parenthood.  I like to give handmade gifts, no matter the occasion. With the number of babies we know coming into the world lately, I haven’t had time to sew or knit something special for each babe, but I wanted something with a handmade touch.  Here’s my latest inspiration – freezer paper prints on onesies.
Gender symbols for a set of twins.
His first facial hair.
Freezer paper stencils are quick and easy to do.  You can find Freezer Paper at the grocery store.  One side is coated in plastic – so if you put an image on the non-plastic side (either draw it freehand or an image from your computer – you’ll need cut the paper to fit in your printer), cut that image out, iron it plastic side down on your fabric and it will becomes a great stencil!  I use either fabric paint or acrylic paints, whatever I can find that won’t wash out.  I let the image sit for 24 hours, remove the paper, then iron over the paint to set it.  Wash it and you are set to go. 
We know of at least 5 more babies set to arrive in the coming weeks, including another set of twins to our across the street neighbors, so there will be more where these came from!

Go.

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My weekend:
Up early Saturday morning to hit market.  I bumped into neighbor Brian and wandered some with him, comparing notes on the chickens (they live in his back yard) and talking about what we need to do to winterize the chicken house.  I then ran into our friend Straz and wandered around with him.  Normally I make a quick run to the stands I like to patronize and then cut out of there.  Straz hadn’t been to market in a while and I found myself wandering and exploring the market like I haven’t made time for in at least a season, if not more with him.  Bonus, I got some impromptu quality time with Straz, which set my weekend off on a good note.  Thanks Straz.
Came home, packed up the fam for a quick little roadtrip.
Destination?  The Cowpasture River Preservation Association Annual picnic. The Cowpasture River are the headwaters of the James, along with the Jackson River and fall under the duties of my favorite Riverkeeper.

The Cowpasture is one of the cleanest rivers around.  It runs through the western most part of Virginia, in the Allegheny mountains.  It may be one of the most beautiful parts of the state.  As you can see in the above shot, the water is low.  We didn’t go out on the river, but we did enjoy mingling with the members of CPRA. They are a lovely group of folks.
This hollowed out tree was a popular topic of conversation.  Somehow it withstood the derecho while more solid trees around it were blown over.

The hostess of the picnic said there was an article published about it, but I haven’t been able to google it to link it.  It’s big and old and incredibly hollow.  It will no doubt outlive us all.
Another popular topic of conversation was the ensemble worn by the mini-me. The Picasso dress with zebra print rain boots.  Pretty sure only she could pull that off.  And don’t let this picture fool you – she was much friendlier to people who weren’t her mother and didn’t have cameras in their hands.
The ‘tween ‘tude is strong with her.
Johnny, one of Pat’s River Rats, so kindly put us up in his cabin farther down the river that evening.
Yet another quiet unplugged evening by the water….

I love the view from the front of the cabin.  Mountains and cow pastures with the river running behind it.  Quiet and soothing and a little bit of heaven. 
Sunday morning, we had to get up and book it back.

Cville Swaps  had our third swap this weekend.  We had planned it before I knew Pat had so much going on this weekend, so I didn’t have time to whip up any baked goods, but thanks to my pickling habit, I did have a good number of jars to bring.

Which Edie proceeded to swap to get herself some new earrings that Stephanie had brought.
I also brought home some BBQ sauce, peach honey, some of Vikki’s jams as well as her pickled blueberries.  (I am not the only pickling fool around.) My child is much more inclined to eat Vikki’s jams than she is mine.  I chalk it up to years of my bad jam.  I get it. It’s a big reason why we do the swap – so that I can get Vikki’s jams and jellies.  I got some cherry vanilla, peach butter and a peach jalepeno jam that I think is going to go well on a ham sandwich.

Robyn also brought some Paw Paws, so we covered all the bases of home made, home grown and foraged for foods this swap.
Swap over, we dropped Edie at a friend’s and headed south.
The James River Brewing Company was having a pre-opening celebration. Pat’s been working with them on a few things (including a possible pawpaw brew), so we were quite happy to pop in and try some of their new brews.  They officially open this weekend. Their tasting room is beautiful. In addition to the breaktaking white oak counter at the bar, they used reclaimed wood throughout. Warm space, good beer, worth the trek to Scottsville.

 

I sampled a few, the Green Eyed Lady being my favorite.  Pistachios were used in the brewing.  It has a higher alcohol content, which led me to calling it the One Eyed Lady.  A few of those and I’d definitely be one-eyed. 
We headed back into town and grabbed a quick bite at Beer Run.  It was packed and as we were finishing up our meal, we had the pleasure of being forced to listen to the rant of some returning UVa kid who had his parents and grandparents in tow, complaining how they had to wait 10 minutes for a table.  Oh the humanity of it all.  I was surprised they didn’t just pack up and leave he bitched so long and so loud.  Clearly he’s never worked a day in his life in the food service industry.  I was trying to have a pleasant conversation and date night with my husband, after spending a weekend running around going to work with him and here this guy stood right behind us yelling about how horrible it was he had to wait for a table.  It took quite a bit of willpower to not say anything to him, but I realized he’d just start yelling at me too.  It was bad enough I had to listen to him. It was bum ending to an otherwise busy, but good weekend.
And now I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.  The last three roadtrips I have just pulled dirty clothes out of the suitcase, made sure there were clean ones in there and headed back out.  I think it might be time to unpack it, maybe put it away and spend some time at home?  My house is starting to get that September old lady house smell that inspires fall cleaning and I really need to crack down on this regular bedtime thing.  That child must start getting to bed at a reasonable hour on a regular basis before I will allow her any wiggle room on weekend.  That didn’t go over well when I told her that but Pat did high five me on my mad parenting skills. So I’ve got that going for me. 

On Preserving the Harvest.

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I’ve been getting a good number of questions on the subject of canning and pickling here lately.  I don’t claim to be an expert, but admittedly, I engage in that activity on average a few times a week  most of the year and find that along the way I’ve learned much through trial and error.

Certain rules you must abide by – the whole idea of acid contents determining processing styles and times still intimidates me, so I don’t play around with that one nor do I skip sterilizing steps, although I might not always hold fast to the 10 minute boiling rule anymore for sterilizing my jars. Should one of us get botulism this year, I’ll revisit that, definitely.
I have never pressure canned, so I can’t really answer questions on that process.  I struggled for a long time with making successful jams, but was finally (!) successful with it this summer – thanks to the Food in Jars Cookbook, I learned the temperature at which jam sets (220 degrees F) and since then have successfully made several small batches, including a cantaloupe jam.  I’m definitely feeling more comfortable with jams these days than I was even 6 weeks ago.  After years of massive failures because I was attempting to jam 20 pounds of fruit at a time, I’ve come to embrace small batches and with that, I have finally found success.
  It’s so much easier to get a feel for what you’re doing when you do it in small batches.  My first successful jam ever was a small batch of stone fruit jam inspired by new favorite cookbook mentioned in the above paragraph  – I had a handful of cherries and two small peaches that needed to go, so I threw them in a pot and gave it a go.  I yielded exactly one half pint jar that I didn’t bother to process but just stuck it straight in the fridge.  It gave me the confidence to try more.  Like the cantaloupe jam.
I have two chest freezers in my basement and consequently, freeze quite a bit of food as well, like corn, green beans, tomatillos and peppers.  I keep a spreadsheet of what’s in each freezer so that I know what’s where (I have my Type A- moments). I have experimented with drying foods (like tomatoes) and am starting to read about fermenting, because I want to try that out as well.  Preserving the harvest by canning, pickling, jamming, freezing, drying and fermenting are really an extension of cooking as I see it.  I don’t like to waste food, and so over the years I’ve learned that when my green beans are tough because of hot, dry weather, they make fantastic pickles. Bolting arugula not only cooks well as a green, it makes an excellent pesto. And then there are Watermelon Rind Pickles, in which someone once upon a time thought to use every last part of that watermelon. 
I’ve started a page on here that lists my favorite resources for food preservation, with the first link being an article from the Virginia Cooperative Extension that I was given when I took my first canning class.  I keep a printed copy in a binder along with the rest of my food preservation cookbooks.  The websites I have linked to are listed in the handout I give my canning students and these are the links I tend to reference when searching for an answer to a question I receive.  I know canning can sound intimidating, but if you approach it one little bit at a time, it’s really quite easy.  And I assure you, there is nothing better than opening up a jar of something you put up one hot afternoon in August to eat when you are snowed in again come January and February.

The Big Yellow Angel is Back!

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Well, sort of.
In our case, it came in the form of the neighborhood 10 year old girls knocking on the door at the ungodly hour of 7:25 (the hour to which we’ve been accustomed to getting ourselves out of bed most mornings for the last 5 years) to walk the two blocks to their new school. Which I realize is way later than every other neighborhood in town where the Walker bus comes through at the ungodly hour of 7 am.
I am lazy and spoiled.  But at least I admit to it.

The Big Yellow Angel is a phrase I picked up from my friend Virgina.  I fully embraced it after Edie’s first Christmas break back in Kindergarten, when I realized how much my child thrived on the structure she got at school all day.  Structured I am not.
She seemed to have a good first day yesterday – she’s been anxious about the change of schools for some time and I knew as soon as she actually got it over with she’d be in much better shape. Her BFF moved to Guatemala a few weeks ago, so a new school is not the only big change in her life.  We’ve known about this added change since last Christmas.  Waiting for them to both actually happen has been like very slowly pulling a band aid off.  Now that it’s finally ripped off, we can move on and find her new normal.  Thankfully, she’s got her crew of neighborhood girls that are right there with her, so she is in good company.

Catching up.

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Since I last visited this space, we have had a few adventures.
Going to pick up Edie from camp was the first.
After last year’s camp closing ceremonies, Edie announced that her goal for this year was to be recognized for archery at the closing ceremony.  Which she was.  Her face as her name was called for that was absolutely beaming.  She was quite proud of herself, as were we. Is there anything better than seeing the satisfaction of your child’s face when they hit a goal they set for themselves?  She was also recognized for Dance & Lacrosse.  She was surprised by the lacrosse recognition as she doesn’t care for the sport.  I told her she didn’t have to like it to be good at it, but wasn’t it nice to know that if she wanted to play it she’d be good at it?  She was only slightly sold. 
There was a dirt road involved on the way home.
We are fans of detours that include dirt roads, especially when they include ice cream as well, which this one did.
When we got home, I had her dump her trunk down the laundry chute so I could wash everything.  My basement smelled like someone had been bathing in a pond for 3 weeks and then left all her towels out in a rainstorm.  Which pretty much was her story.
While I was switching out the loads from the washer to the dryer Saturday night, I happened to glance over and see something wriggling in a spider web that didn’t look like it belonged there.
Turns out, it didn’t.  It was a baby Eastern Ringneck snake. The tiniest little snake you’ve ever seen.
Edie really wanted to keep it, but Pat wasn’t sure if it was eating the tiny worms we brought him/her.  Also, when all of Edie’s pals came by to see her the one day she was home between adventures, the little bug catcher the snake was in didn’t get properly closed and we woke up to find Ringo gone.
Hopefully it’s made it’s way out of my house.  But if it eats bugs, then hopefully it will stay out of my eyesight.
As soon as I got Edie’s camp laundry done and my basement smelling like a basement again (a big improvement over pond water believe it or not), we took off for our last family adventure of the summer.
We headed down to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to visit our friends the Dorbads.
19 month old Lincoln is cute as can be.  He also had a nasty cold he was more than generous with.  His poor mum came down with it while we were there and while Edie complained of a sore throat for a few days, I think I managed to zinc her up enough to head it off. 
I had totally forgotten that when you have a 19 month old, that’s pretty much all you do all day.
Although they are awfully cute and entertaining.
We had some great beach weather.  It was in the 80’s and thanks to some offshore winds, the water was ICE cold.  After sitting in the sun and ‘getting warm’ as my mother used to say, it was refreshing.
Also, how nice is it to get in the ocean in August and have goosebumps from the water temperature?

We wandered down to Jennette’s pier one day so Pat could fish. 
While he was up there on the pier, Edie girl & I sat on the beach nearby. We had a most fabulous chat over a coke (her) and a beer (me). 
Daddy got to fish, Edie got chocolate ice cream AND a coke and I got to sit on the beach and read not quite an entire book all day, which we all considered perfect. How to top a day like that?

By heading even farther south to Cape Hatteras National Seashore the next day.
That was the view to the left of us down the beach. 
How sweet is that?  I adore Hattaras island and that particular stretch of coastline for just that reason.
The umbrella in the distance marked the set up of a young couple near us for the day.  It was so deserted she chose to sunbathe topless.  (One of us was horrified, one of us was amused and one of us thought good for her because I’d surely burn in a most unpleasant way in some uncomfortable spots if I did that.)
We went for a stroll to collect shells and to get away from all the people.

I couldn’t help but notice that Sandy McSandster, my daughter’s beach alter ego, lives on.
That child has some sort of magnetic attraction to sand.  When she was smaller and would come in from the beach completely coated in sand, I chalked it up to her being a baby, a toddler, three, four, etc.  But now she’s 10.  And still leaves a heavy trail.  I’m surprised there’s any sand left on Hatteras Island, because the inside of my car is completely coated, as is my beach bag, the cooler and I have no doubt her entire suitcase. 

At one point, we let her go into the cooler for something, where she proceeded to coat everything in there with sand as well.  Seriously.  One hand in to grab and everything after was coated.  That beer is fresh from the cooler, after she was in it. You should have seen the one she handed her father.  He took it into the ocean to clean it off. 

I guess she’ll never outgrow it.
Which is okay, because I happen to know 40-somethings that have similar traits.  She’s in most excellent company.

Despite the fact that my child coated everything in sight in sand and our hosts were under the weather, it was a great trip.  The day we spent at Hatteras was one of the most perfect beach days I’ve ever had.  It was 80, barely a cloud in the sky, the water temp and the breeze just right.  And I got to spend a day with those two with no outside distractions besides my book.  (I’ve been plowing through “Game of Thrones”, having watched the entire show the first week Edie was at camp, I picked up the books and am now on the fourth one.)
We spent the week without television and internet.  That was week two for me, unplugged and for Edie, week four.  (She was completely unplugged while at camp.).  It might be habit forming. 
We came back Friday afternoon.  Saturday I taught a pickling class for Market Central.

We pickled peaches, green beans and cucumbers.
It was a good class if I do say so myself.
I had planned on using the Ball Pickling Mix that is all over the market this season for dill pickles.  However, due to a small oversight, there was no pickle mix on hand for the class.  A quick flip through the stack of canning & pickling cookbooks I had brought along and we selected a new one – from my trusty Food in Jars Cookbook.  We just so happened to have everything it called for on hand and so we went with it.
I’ll let you know how they turned out in a week or so when I open the jar I carried home.  I’ve yet to make anything out of that cookbook or from her websites that isn’t good, so I felt safe trying that out in a class, untested.
I do need to brag that I completely guesstimated on the amount of brine to make for those pickles and turns out my guesstimate was just enough.  Not only did I pull it out, I pulled it out perfectly.
I’m good like that.
I can’t say the same for the amount of peach brine I made, there were several quart jars left over that students took home with them.  No one seemed to be too upset about that, as the pickled peaches were a huge hit just on the smell alone and as I pointed out, when you have leftover brine, you can use it to do another batch.  I shared the recipe I came up with as a happy discovery to much rave reviews, which felt pretty darn tooting good as well.
So now we are home for a good while – school starts Wednesday and we need to settle back into that routine.  The weather today – grey, drizzly and cool – was slightly conducive towards that end.  I cleaned out the fridge and found a forgotten jar of bread & butter brine, but I also happened to have a few cukes on hand and some jalapenos from the garden that I threw in, so there was a batch of pickles made today while I was baking bread with the sourdough starter Leni shared with me.  None of us have unpacked from the beach yet – heck, Edie still has bags sitting around with camp gear all over the house, thanks to the fact that she’s slept in her own bed exactly 2 nights since we picked her up over a week ago.  It’s good to have her home, it’s good to be home and it’s good to have a few more days to collect ourselves before it all starts back up again.

Me time.

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I just spent a glorious few days out at St. Michael’s.
Technically, the house I stayed in is on a cove on Edge Creek, just outside of St. Michael’s proper.

It’s an absolutely beautiful little spot.
There is no cable tv and no tv reception worth a toot. No internet access. Cell phone reception is spotty. You have to be outside for it really.
What there was was some very good wine.

Of course Caprese Salad.

After all, it’s August.  It’s in season.
We ate it daily.
 
There was also this completely amazing vegan pizza that we added goat cheese to one night at dinner as well as a linguine with clam sauce that I’m still thinking about.  Damn it was good.
There was some quality hammock lounge time.

Solitary

And with company.

There was ice cream
and little boys covering me in their ice cream by just snuggling on up to me.
Three year old boys are among my most favorite things in the universe. 
In a moment of brilliance, I handed Ian an empty egg carton box and told him it was a ‘treasure box’.  That game lasted us for days.
There were also some amazing sunsets.

And, in the middle of a serious deluge one morning, a visitor on the dock.

Best of all was quality time with this woman.

 You really only get so many friendships like ours.  Neither one of us are overly sentimental girls so we don’t tend to sit there and declare ourselves BFF’s.  I think we were in our 40’s before we ever really used that the term ‘best friend’ anywhere near each other, despite the fact that we were fairly inseparable throughout most of our college careers, especially Saturday nights.  We had a standing Saturday night date for years. We just hung out well together, with similar habits of reading, smoking, drinking, music and the ability to eat pizza for days on end.  Some of those habits have changed, but not all of them, which is why we still hang out together well for days on end.  And yes, had pizza multiple nights for dinner.
So, between being around her and being completely unplugged and absolutely lazy all week, I feel completely rejuvenated, although I’m not sure I want to fully re-enter the world.  We pick Edie up from camp tomorrow and then head out to the Outer Banks for a few days before I have to completely rejoin civilization.   Thank god, because I already know that first week of school is going to be a doozy.  Oh summer, how I hate to quit you.

For the love of pie.

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Rachel Willis taught a pie baking class at the Charlottesville Cooking School that I was lucky enough to assist with last Saturday morning.  I had assisted with her cake baking class last winter and knew she was amazing.  I knew she had won a pie baking contest last fall, so I was intrigued as to what her pie secrets were.  I consider my own pie skills fairly decent.  Granted, I can’t hold a candle to my mother’s pie making ability, but I have gotten to the point where I’m pretty convinced her skills are a gift that cannot be learned.

I learned from Rachel that while that might be partially true, there are skills that can be learned.   I’m just going to go ahead and gush about how amazing that class was.  I thought I knew a lot about baking a pie.  Holy Moly did I learn a lot about pie.  How to do a crust.  How to roll it out (okay, I knew that was my weakness). How to do a lattice top pie AND make it look easy.    Different thickeners for the filling. Different flavor additions.   I’m still sort of absorbing all the knowledge I took in.  I haven’t had time to bake a pie yet with my new knowledge, but I am definitely looking forward to apple pie season in ways I have never looked forward to apple pie season.  And I LOVE apple pie.  It is my chosen birthday dessert, as long as it’s homemade to my specifications.  (Different late harvest apples is key.)

So the class.  She had the students bring fruit to make their own pie – sort of Iron Chef of pie baking classes.  There were blueberries, apples, peaches & cherries.  (Some of which were combined).  She greeted the class with a rhubarb custard pie with some orange accents.  Even her experiments in pie are amazing.

She started by teaching us how to roll out the dough.

While she was at it, she demonstrated a lattice top pie.
And how incredibly easy they are to do.

I feel a lattice top pie kick coming on.

She had premade dough for everyone’s pies, of different varieties.  After preparing the filling for pie, everyone rolled out their selected crusts and got the pies in the oven.  The idea was that we’d sample the pies everyone baked.
Once the pies were in the oven, she demonstrated how to make a crust.
And then everyone got to make a crust to take home, as well as their remaing pie. 

She works half her fat in at one time, then works in the remaining half. That’s what the dough looks like once you’ve worked in the water and before you dump it into plastic wrap to let it sit and chill.  Totally different from how I do my crusts. 
Her crusts are so much more flakier than mine and now I know why.  It’s not just one reason, it’s several.
I wish I had more pictures but about this point in the class my camera battery died. I have no shots of the various blueberry, peach, cherry, apple & blueberry pies that came out.
We sampled them all and they were good.
I did however, get a shot of the chicken pot pie Rachel made for lunch. 
And that was pretty darn tooting amazing too.
Part of why I love assisting with classes at the cooking school is because of the knowledge I walk away with. This class was by far, the most informative class I’ve ever had there.  Rachel is a seriously superlative baker.  She knows what she’s doing and she can explain to you the how and why of certain tricks.
I was most impressed with how she had her class use glass baking dishes.  I swear by my aluminum ones, but she even has me rethinking the usage of glass dishes.   Rachel, you really should teach more baking classes.  I could definitely use some help with my cookies next. 

I can pickle that.

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Pat & I have been told more than a few times that we may resemble more than few sketches in Portlandia.  Admittedly, we are music snob geeks with some pretty firm standards about what music our child listens to (Mike & The Mechanics ARE a gateway band that we refuse to let her listen to and yes, we do know who Neu! is. ).  We may have watched entire series of TV shows in marathon format, but what has really gotten us the most comparison to the show is my love of pickling.

Admittedly, I have mostly laughed it off.  After all, I’ve already taught one canning & pickling class and I’m gearing up to teach  a pickling class in a few weeks, so I need to practice and know my stuff, yes? 

However, the other night, Pat & I were having dinner with friends and had jimica for the first time.  About two bites into it, I looked at him and said “This would make a great pickle”.

This week, with Edie being gone, most of the block on vacation and Pat at work all day, I’ve kept myself busy with you guessed it, pickling.  As I type this, my second batch today is on the stove – Curried Pickled Squash & Zucchini, Betty having left me a big bag she acquired from Russell.  Leni was kind enough to share a large bag of cukes I turned into Bread & Butter pickles earlier today.  The squash pickles would be my 4th batch of pickles in 3 days.  I spent all day Thursday making Watermelon rind pickles (and realized I need to rewrite the recipe to double the liquid amounts in the brine) and last night I pickled a peck of peaches (which is really fun to say.  Pat & I walked around all night saying it. I bet you said it while reading it, didn’t you?)

I have often stated that I don’t tend to follow recipes while in the kitchen, but when it comes to canning and pickling, I don’t improvise, I am by the book.  The whole concept of acid content and knowing what works and what doesn’t is sort of beyond me.  Or so I thought.  Last night, as I was getting myself set up to pickle those peaches, I realized that the last time I made a batch, I sort of merged the recipe from “Joy of Pickling” with the one from Serious Eats In A Pickle, meaning, I wrote my own recipe.  My very first pickling recipe.   And because we’ve already eaten them and people that have had pickled peaches before have eaten them and declared them just like their grandmother made, I knew I had done it right. Needless to say, I was pretty impressed with myself and sat down while the last batch was in the canner and wrote the recipe out to use in my upcoming pickling class.

My name is Becky and I’m a pickling junkie.  I’m going to walk away from the canner for a few days and head to the water for some quality time with my all time favorite partner in crime from college.  I’m going to resist the urge to pickle anything for the next few days, although I can’t promise I won’t put a bird on it.

In the mail.

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We are just over the halfway point of Edie being away at camp.
She’s been gone exactly 11 days.  We got one letter the first week she was gone.
She has since mailed two more notes and a list of things she needs sent, ASAP.
Four pieces of mail, one “I miss you” in the bunch.
Oh, and this:
One of her target practice sheets.

Not a bad little shot, is she?
 

Tracking Progress.

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In February, 2011, I posted a photo on here and announced the start of a new project.
A long promised sweater for my husband.
In September, 2011, I posted this:
The torso was to the point of being ready to be joined with the sleeves.
Of which I had started exactly one.
This past February I posted I had gotten sleeve one to the point where it was ready to be joined with the torso and I was starting sleeve two. 
I wrote then that at the rate I was going, I should be putting it all together by mid-summer.
Sometimes my guesstimates are so right I think I’m onto something.
Monday night, as we finished “Game of Thrones” (with some Olympics throw in), I realized I was there.
Yesterday I bought myself a new 40″ circular needle so that all 328 stitches would fit easily on one needle and while watching Olympic water polo and the US Men’s Beach Volleyball, I sat down, took a few deep breaths, counted and recounted all my stitches, read and reread the directions and finally put it all together. 
I’ve read that knitting is quite soothing, that you fall into a rhythm that is almost meditative at times.  This sweater, knit entirely in the round from the bottom up that you can put it down at any point and pick it back up, definitely falls into that category.  I don’t think knitting is about talent as much as it’s about patience. Certainly there are talented knitters, people who can look at a ball of yarn, imagine an end result and just know magically how to make that happen.  I’m not one of those knitters.  I need my hand held on any project not a scarf.  At this point, I’ve been working on this sweater project for 18 months.  It’s been interspersed with smaller projects, mostly scarves and more scarves.  I have carried the various pieces with me on every roadtrip, to every soccer practice and piano lesson. I’ve watched endless hours of college football with this in my hands. The majority of both sleeves were knit watching “Boardwalk Empire” this past winter.  There are mistakes, dropped stitches and honestly, I hope the cuffs straighten themselves out when I block the sweater because they look a little funky. The yarn is slightly stiff and heavy – the finished sweater is going to be one that Pat can wear on the water during the winter to keep him warm.  Originally I had wanted to knit him an Irish Fisherman’s type sweater, but sitting down to it was so overwhelming that I realized I needed the pattern to be as simple as possible.  I stumbled upon Knitting without Tears by Elizabeth Zimmerman and realized this was a pattern and I style I could do.  I am horrible at the finishing parts of knitting – the weaving in of the ends, and especially the part where you have to sew together the finished bits.  It’s not at all like the sewing I’m used to. There is nothing more frustrating than spending hours upon hours on something and have your finished product look less than stellar because you stink at the finishing parts. One of these days I’ll get around to taking a class on proper knitting finishing techniques, but in the meantime, I’m quite grateful to have this pattern that lets me knit from the bottom up, all in one piece.  Knitting without tears indeed.