Raison de Blogger: A Bit of a Fishing Expedition

Blogging, ah wish ah could quit yew.

I've been thinking a lot lately about why I do this blog thing. Maybe I'm having a bit of an identity crisis; I'm not sure. The few blogs I read regularly seemed to be divided into two types (with a fair amount of overlap): the Chroniclers and the Thinkers.

The Chroniclers I enjoy are knitters, writers, or foodies (or all three); their progress on their respective projects reinvigorates my attitude towards my own creative efforts.

I can divide the Thinkers into two subcategories: the Funny Gals and the Brainiacs--and then there's one who has her own subcategory, since she is a Funny Brainiac.

As I look over my posts, it appears that I am a Chronicler. I wish I were a Brainiac, and maybe I would try to be one if I didn't have these other writing thingies I'm trying to do. But I just don't have enough Writing Energy Units (WEUs) to go around.

The posts of my own that I like best are those which consume the most WEUs. As a mother of five with too many obsessions and a distractingly handsome husband, I have to have a little self-discipline and conserve my precious few WEUs for use on my novels--both of which I had hoped to have finished several months ago.

I put in my $0.02 on a poll another blogger was taking recently on why bloggers blog. I answered that I blog a) to warm up for other writing; b) to keep a sort of a journal; and c) to keep friends and relatives up to date on life at the Perkins Corral. I think a fourth reason is emerging: d) to connect with a few other people whom I know solely through their own blogs. I know that purposes a) and b) are being fulfilled reasonably well for me; I'm not so sure about c) and d). (Hint: if you all would leave a comment once in a while, I'd have a better sense on this last point. It's really not hard to do, and I'd appreciate it.)

But I wonder: is this blog the best use of my time? I know it is not coming close to hitting any of the lofty aims I put forth in my very first post, but is it adding any joy or light to the world? I'm not sure; I guess I'll have to go do some more pondering.

Amendment posted 3/29/2007:

1) RJLight is not just 'another blogger.' She is another funny blogger. Hence the title of her blog. And why I go back for more nearly every day.

2) Many of the Chroniclers do Think, and vicey versey. Same goes for the Brainiacs and the Funny Gals. Good grief; I can't include you all in every category! That would defeat the purpose of the categories!

3) Everyone feeling better now?

The Impending Trek

For Youth Conference this year, the kids ages 14-18 in our congregation are going on a living-history-type Pioneer Trek on June 1-3 in Cockaponset State Park in Connecticut. The youth leaders hope to recreate for these teenagers what life must have been like for the Handcart Pioneers.

The kids will be pulling handcarts 10-14 miles, then camping, cooking and eating, and (I'm quite sure) sleeping like the dead until early the next morning, whereupon they will get up and start all over again. They'll be wearing clothing of the period and will be separated from all of their beloved electronic paraphernalia. It should be quite an experience.

Patrick and I have been asked to be 'parents' to one of the groups of the youth. We are to travel with them and provide physical guidance and spiritual leadership along the way. To say that I am not excited about this trip would be a considerable understatement. Frankly, I don't see the point.

If I were in charge and had the goal of having the youth get a bit of the flavor of real frontier life, I wouldn't try to fake something. I'd have them build a real house for a real family with Habitat for Humanity. Or clear a piece of real land, chopping down trees and pulling stumps, for a real community garden. Or have them grind real wheat and make real bread by hand in a stone oven, then distribute it to the real poor. Or something where the exhaustion of really hard labor would be compensated for by the satisfaction of having really served someone else. Teenagers don't get enough of that kind of thing, in my (real) opinion.

But I'm not in charge, and I'm trying hard to quell my rebellious nature and keep my covenant of support for the church leaders, so I'm just moaning a bit right here and now. There. No more negative words from me on the subject. Now I'll buckle down and get ready for the trip. Because there is a lot to do in the next two months.

Patrick and I need costumes. Last night I browsed through some pattern websites, and here's what I have come up with. Patrick will wear this (he'll need three) and these (we're allowed to spurn authenticity in favor of proper hiking shoes). I'll make this for myself, with three different shirtwaists. I'll also be sporting this and this. Yes, you can trust me to find an excuse to knit something new.

I also need to brush up my recorder and pennywhistle skills for campfire entertainment. I'll be practicing the hymns from the 1835 Hymnal. I'm hoping my friend Karen (who has a much better attitude than I do) will bring her guitar, so that we can make merry together.

I'll be keeping to the running schedule I've been on, even though I know it would take marathon training (which I'm not doing) to be able to handle the Trek gracefully. But every little bit helps, right?

I need to prepare stories of pioneer ancestors--one of mine and one of Patrick's (he asked me to do his, and I agreed; he's got plenty more to do before then). Which to choose? We each have several colorful candidates with faith-promoting histories to relate.

Last but far from least, I will be praying for a change of heart and an outlook suitable for leading impressionable youth. Anything you want to add in that regard would be very welcome. Westward ho!

There is Hope, smiling brightly before us...

Pardon my absence. First I was on a bit of a Family History bender (oh, how I do love me a good genealogy binge). I had a nice bit of success finding some long-lost cousins of direct-line ancestors--very satisfying.

Then Hope and I went on her fabulous birthday trip to NYC. What a delight Hope is! Here's what we did: on Friday morning we took the train to Manhattan. We got our nails done. We ate sushi (Hope's favorite food). We spent three hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, admiring, discussing, and sketching what we saw. We walked to the Central Park Zoo and visited the sea lions, the seals, the penguins and puffins, and the polar bears.

Then we took the bus across town to our old neighborhood, where we walked around the campus of Patrick's beloved alma mater, then visited our lovely friends on West End Avenue. We had a terrific time catching up, playing, and eating. We slept over, lulled to sleep on an air mattress by the sounds of a clanking radiator and the night buses outside. Saturday morning, we went to Absolute Bagels for a little bit of heaven. After a brief pilgrimage to a Central Park playground, we hit the American Museum of Natural History; we spent most of our time there in the Hall of Oceanic Creatures.

Next was the Urban Inspirations Quilt Show at FIT, hosted by the Empire Quilters' Guild. We met my bionic quilting friend Deb there, and she gave us the grand tour. That's Deb with Hope in front of the Grand Prize-winning quilt. I've never seen quilts as exquisite as these all were. Hope bought some fabric and has already come up with designs for at least two projects. Last, we headed over to Grand Central Station's famous Oyster Bar for lunch. Hope tried a raw oyster from my platter, pronounced it good, then ate three more before consuming her entree of coconut shrimp. We ran to catch the train home and made it just in time.

I know this will be a wonderful memory for me, and I'm pretty sure Hope shares the sentiment. She was saying nearly every five minutes either "Thank you for bringing me here," or "I love New York!" It seems that nearly six years in the country have not taken one of our little native Manhattanites away from her roots, away from the city that is so dear to me. I'm glad.

Piecemeal

Eunny Jang was just appointed Editor of Interweave Knits, the best knitting magazine in print! (You know how I feel about Knitty, which exists only in the ether.) Eunny is a genius--ahh, her cabling; ohhh, her steeking! If you love me and/or if you love knitting, go check out at minimum Eunny's Anemoi Mittens; her Bayerische Socks; and most fabulousest of all, her Norwegian Jacket. That jacket--be still, my heart. I hope she publishes that pattern so that I can make it myself one day. Truly, Eunny tempts me towards idolatry.

Rather than violate the first commandment, I'll let Eunny tempt me back to two-color work (scroll down a bit on that link). About four years ago, Carmen and I went to a knitting workshop with Eugene and Ann Bourgeois, co-authors of Fair Isle Sweaters Simplified. I had wanted to try one of their sweaters for a while, so I bought a kit for their Circus Sweater. I started on it, using the two-handed technique Ann had taught us (knit Continental with one hand, English with the other, at the same time--one hand for each color--it sounds harder than it is). I was going along, loving the rhythm of the technique, loving the colorway, good, good, good. Then I hit a snag.

If you clicked on the link for the Circus Sweater, you noticed that the sleeves are very big. That's great if you are young and skinny, like the model. It's not so great if you are a bit more mature and less Hepburnesque. I imagined myself in the finished product after following the directions verbatim. More Circus Tent than Circus.

To avoid this scenario, I decided to make the arms much more fitted, which worked fine for the first five inches of the sleeve. I got to the second windowpane pattern and realized that it wouldn't come out right with the reduced number of stitches I was using. I set the project aside, planning to figure out how to make it work at some point. It sat in the closet as I turned to other, less demanding, more mindless knitting projects. Sometime later, it got demoted from the closet stash to the attic stash, where it has languished lo these many seasons.

I pulled it out again yesterday, because I'd had a flash of inspiration after virtually and lurkingly consulting with Eunny. Flash: I don't have to use the pattern Ann and Eugene prescribed. I can make up my own that would fit properly. Right, right--already plotting it out on the graph paper in my brain. So now I'm all excited about the Circus Sweater again (even though I hate circuses and almost everything associated them--ewwwww, clowns--nothing scarier). I've got to get to work; fall is just around the corner! Thanks, Ms. Jang!

Another blogger characterized Eunny as our generation's Elizabeth Zimmermann. As much as it may sound like it, folks, I don't think that's hyperbole. I can't wait to see where IK goes with Eunny at the helm.

In food news, James's empanadas were fantastic last night! Luis was again our inspiration, but we used the Cook's Illustrated recipe; that magazine has never failed me. Lest I forget, I must also mention the delectability of Christian's lasagna last week. Excelsior, boys!

A Master Plan

Q: What do you do with a pint of leftover mincemeat, a cup of leftover cranberry chutney, and three cups of leftover applesauce--all homemade and delicious, but all listlessly hanging around the back of the fridge like wallflowers at a hoe-down?

A: Invent Cranberry-Apple Mincemeat Pie, of course. Don't forget the Pie Crust Scrap Cookies; you know how the kids love those. The filling tasted great; we'll see what the ladies at the Relief Society's Pot Luck and Pow-Wow think.

Q: What do you do when autodidacticism fails you?

A: Swallow your pride and hire a consultant.

Let me explain the second Q&A.

My grandmother was an amazing automath. When she wanted to learn how to do something new, she would simply check books out of the library and teach herself by reading and doing. She made her own saddles. She designed and built her own deck and greenhouse. She learned how to decorate wedding cakes, then had a very successful side business for years as she honed that skill to high art.

Though she took enormous satisfaction in these accomplishments, she never succumbed to vanity. If we ever complimented her excellent cooking or baking, for example, she would scoff good-naturedly, saying, "If you can read, you can cook."

Watching her, I learned that if you wanted to do something, you gathered the necessary information, then plunged in and just did it. Grandma's process has worked well for me over the course of my life. I've sewn, I've sown; I've made cheese and rendered lard. But recently, I hit a brick wall.

A couple of years ago, I read a great book about permaculture and got very excited about employing its principles on our little third of an acre. Sometimes called 'forest gardening,' permaculture is an agricultural system that seeks to work with nature, not against it, in the production of food crops. The permaculturist mimics nature's systems as closely as possible, hoping for maximum output (food) with minimum input (work). It's a method that attempts to recreate Eden here in the Lone and Dreary World. Here's a quote from Toby Hemenway:

Permaculture is notoriously hard to define in a sound-bite. Here's one way to describe it: If you think of natural building, sustainable agriculture, solar energy, graywater recycling, consensus process, and the like as tools, then permaculture is the toolbox that helps organize those tools and suggests how and when to use them.

I've made various plans for our land since we moved here almost six years ago, amending them as I have worked in the yard and as I have read more books on garden philosophy and design. Hemenway's book pulled all of my dreams into one overarching concept, so I got to work trying to make a new plan incorporating new ideas such as the use of plant guilds, a mandala design to increase the edge factor, and the unique characteristics of our little microclimate.

I got stuck. It was too big; I couldn't get my mind around it all. Figuring I just needed more data, I bought a couple of very technical permaculture textbooks and studied them. I got stuck again; I just could not pull everything together. Then we renovated the house last year, and I had to abandon any thoughts of work on the yard.

Last fall, while reading a magazine that focuses on green building, I came across an ad for the services of Ethan Zickler, a permaculture landscape designer who lives not too far from us. Perfect, I thought. In a flash, I humbly recognized that I needed to bring in reinforcements if I wanted the permaculture thing to happen.

Last September, Ethan came out and consulted with me. He spent an hour listening to my desires and ideas, then walked around our property for a long time making sketches. Realizing that we couldn't do much over the winter, we agreed to touch base again in the early spring.

The other day I met with him so that he could show me what he had come up with for our yard. I about fell over when I saw it. Ethan is both experienced and gifted. One one large, well-drawn map, I saw all the concepts I'd tried to conquer seamlessly integrated into a Master Plan.

I like to be self-sufficient; it's hard for me to accept help from other humans. But I am grateful for the lesson learned: drawing upon the gifts of others can enhance and expand your own. Our property is now bountiful and pleasing to the eye on paper. I can't wait to run with Ethan's plan and make it a reality.