Needle Tart

If I'm not knitting or sewing something, I must be cooking something!

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

That movie

Yes, I know, I should be working on the quilt, but I have seen some comments about the 9-11 movie and I wanted to share my penny's worth.
I don't particularly feel that the actors, directors, etc. should be censored or reviled for making this movie. That's their job, to tell our stories. That being said, on 9-11 my Mom had just died, and we were waiting for the call that Daddy was gone too. No, they weren't in the towers (though we didn't know where The Husband's sister was and she did sometimes work at Windows on the World) but all I can clearly recall from that day is sitting at the computer waiting for the call about Daddy (he died a week later). When I saw the promo for the movie the first time I wanted to cry. It brought back all the feelings from that time and I would have appreciated some sort of warning. I have read some comments from people who were at Ground Zero or Shanksville and they all seem to feel that the trailers, ads, etc. should not be shown without some kind of warning. Add my (albeit small) voice to the chorus. Make the movie, tell the story, but give those of us who are not quite ready the chance to change the channel or leave the theater rather that relive that time in technicolor and surround sound.

Monday, July 24, 2006


During my childhood, when it was a particularly hot summer, my dear mother would make drinkee-poos. This was when blenders were a new and exciting addition to the kitchen. The main ingredient in these drinkee-poos was ice cream. We used any liquor we could find in the liqour cabinet (OK, the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard) and lots of ice cream. Then we took the concoctions out to the veranda (OK, the front porch) and pretended we were at Tara. This year Elder Child turned 21. Tonight he got into the liquor cabinet (OK sideboard, but it locks!) and started sampling my chocolate liquors. This led to the story of his Gramma's summers and........ merriment ensued.

We used lots of Bryer's vanilla ice cream, Chocolate Chip Cooked liquor, a small amount of milk and just a soupcon of Kirsch. Mmmmmm. Chocolate Cherry Drinkee-Poo in memory of Gramma. Saaaalute!

On the knitting front, I sent a few hats to the WIC programs in California and Massachusetts as our Harlot asked. I took them to Services on Friday to show to a Temple member who works for the local WIC program. One of our Temple members asked if I was selling them. After services. On Shabbas. OY! (For non-Jewish readers, doing any business, especially handling money, on Shabbas is bad form).

I knit four of them from cotton (mostly Takai, the pineapple was knit from KnitPicks cotton yarn), and four of them from wool (KnitPicks merino, left over from the Map of the World Sweater). The apples, tomatos, eggplant, and pumpkin(don't you love the chenille for the stem and leaf?) were pretty easy. Each one took less than an evening to knit. The pineapple and berry tart however were really hard on my right hand(I have been having trouble with it since The Husband had gall bladder surgery a year ago and I did a lot of hand sewing while waiting and visiting). There are many K3tog in both of these patterns. They weren't that difficult it just takes some manuvering. To rest the right hand I finished Elder Child's pirate socks:

Pretend there is a picure here of his feet in red socks with a white skull and crossbones. I have no idea why it won't load. It said it loaded. *sigh*

To further rest the right hand I have started socks for The Husband on bamboo needles. If I knit on steel for 2-3 hours my hands hurt so much the next morning I can hardly lift my cranberry juice, but knitting on bamboo (Clover, size 0) for 5 hours or more doesn't bother me at all. Good thing The Husband has decided that he really likes hand-knit socks. I must get working on The Baby's college quilt. I have cut 240 rectangles of different fabrics (some as old as he is) and 480 squares of various white on white prints. If I don't post for a week, and I promise to have a picture of the finished top (not the quilt, just the top) will you hold me to it?

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Sale

Over the weekend we had the Great De-Crapification Sale. Thursday night my living room looked like this:

All day Friday and Saturday my friends and I kept watch for buyers in this way:

This is my dear friend, Dana. She and her husband came down from our hometown just to help me with the sale. They regard it as some sort of vacation. Maybe there's something in the water where we grew up?

For years I have planned to spend part of the summer sitting on this bench under the apple tree while doing needlework. Guess what I found out? There are grass fleas in the grass and they love my blood. Still, I got to live the fantasy for a couple of days. Then it got so hot I spent two whole days in the sewing room with the air conditioner. We made almost enough money to pay for this yarn:

Well, OK, we made enough money to pay for this yarn and the balance on my charge card. Now my living room looks like this:

Note that I did not sell any of the CDs. They, mostly, belong to The Husband. No cookbooks were sold in the de-crapification of this house (Maybe next time. Hee hee).

Monday, July 10, 2006


Yesterday was this guy's birthday:

This is Ed Ames dressed as Mingo from the Daniel Boone TV show (circa 1967). For someone I have never met he has had an amazing impact on my life. I stumbled on the show when I was 12 and was so impressed with this educated, handsome, articulate Cherokee that I started working really hard on my history studies so I could find the truth (I also worked harder on my music lessons, as he is rather famous for his singing). My mother and I spent many afternoons watching the show (in re-runs) and critiquing the clothes, history, and continuity. Mr. Ames speaks 7 languages. When the chance came to learn French in Junior High I worked hard and rose to the highest level and was (in those days) completely fluent, I've also picked up a number of phrases in many tounges, mostly food: ravoli; mit schlag; poulet avec bechemel; and so forth). In college I wanted to study history and become a docent for someplace like Williamsburg, VA. To this end I talked my mother into a visit to Williamsburg and William and Mary College. We couldn't afford for me to go out of state but it was a terrific visit and my family still likes to visit historic villages and recreations. During college I saw Mr. Ames on a talk show and he said he was Jewish. Back to the books. I had been taking a lot of comparative religion courses as I had already decided that I was not a Christian (blame Paul), but wasn't sure what I was. After three years of study I found a resonance with the Reform Movement and converted. Then I met my husband. Not too many years ago my sons gave me this for Chanukkah:

See the resemblence? A flaMingo with two feathers and a whip. Oh yeah, the whip. Mingo was kind of famous for using a bullwhip. One year we went to the local Indian Reservation and lo and behold there was a whip! I spent several weeks allowence on it and went home and learned to crack it on the front sidewalk (we have never had problems with the neighbors). When Mr. Needletart and I were first married, I was in a play (right, plays. That was something else Mr. Ames got me into by example) and needed a long fancy Victorian nightgown. The costumer couldn't find one long enough so I sent one of the stage hands out to send The Husband to fetch mine and he said, "Sure, but where is it?" The message I sent back (remember the stage hand running in between?), "It's under the whip." The Husband said OK and ran off to fetch the required garment. Stage Hand couldn't believe that two such nice people were up, la, la. Things he didn't want to think about.

In any event, on September 26, 2006 the first two seasons of Daniel Boone come out on DVD. If you want to know why so many little girls in the 60s fell for this guy (although most of them probably outgrew it) take a look. But remember, I saw him first!

(note to Mr. Ames. Have a happy birthday and many, many more. Rest assured I am not a crazed stalker. I don't ever want to meet you and ruin all the illusions I have held. Thanks for being who I believe you to be.)