Every so often I go nuts at Central Market. [As opposed to going nuts at the yarn shop, fabric store, bookstore, etc.] Back in March I bought several types of sausages and froze them, two by two, just like the Ark: some chicken, some turkey, some pork.
All summer long I could not bear the thought of cooking them up, but now that it is imitating fall out there, I am suddenly feeling carnivorous. Every few days I grab a package out of the freezer and toss it into the fridge to thaw. Last week I had applewood smoked bacon for two breakfasts. Last night I poached two maple-blueberry sausages for about five minutes, then browned them in my skillet.
The larger one is going to the office with me today, accompanied by a hot dog bun and maybe some mango chutney, just to make sure I get my daily five in the fruit and veggie department. [If ketchup is a vegetable (thank you, Jimmy Carter), then surely chutney is the farmers’ market in a jar.]
Last night I sliced the smaller one into coins and also frizzled up two eggs, over easy, in [not quite enough; I should have added a dab of butter] sausage grease. It is at moments like that, that I wish I had one of those hollow tongues like butterflies, so I could get every smidgen of goodness. I toasted one last slice of the buttermilk oatmeal bread for wiping up the bowl.
I am up to 65 projects in my queue on Ravelry. This does not count the projects that caused me to buy three new knitting magazines last Saturday. I need to solve the mysteries of time travel, or clone myself, or both. Though two [or more] of me is a scary thought, even to me!
And I have begun the new incarnation of my sister’s main birthday present. Thank you, Vogue Knitting! Sometimes you just turn a page and think, “Oh, so that’ s what this yarn wants to be!” I ran the idea past her in a quick call on Saturday afternoon; she was intrigued. The only downside to this project, and it’s a very small quibble, more like une quibblette, is that I will not be able to cable-without-a-cable-needle. I tried, briefly, during sacrament meeting, gave up on it, and promptly dozed off.
Further swatching on the doll sweater is set aside for the moment, in the hope that I can get this birthday project in the mail to SisterMine sometime between her actual birthday and the end of the month. At which point Secondborn’s birthday gift becomes the project du jour. But as that brat Miz Scarlett was heard to say, “Tomorrow is another day.”
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!