It took me a couple of days to realize that my manic knitting was causing severe aggravation of my rib strain. I didn't understand why I was in so much pain the last couple of days, but I've been knitting like a maniac... The Mister was sitting at the table at 11 last night making ravioli, and I decided to pull my knitting back out. My ribs had been so painful all day, but had finally started to let up a little. Within a moment or two of starting back on my project, the pain was surging. *sigh*
So, what else is new. Finishing the Noah sweater...all I need to do is sew on the front pocket and weave in about a thousand ends. Went out and got a pair of circulars with a shorter lead so I could actually finish the Baby Cozy, which is coming along nicely. Unfortunately, I SO miscalculated yarn yardage on that one. For some reason, I figured 2 balls of Chunky Mochi would do it. 4 balls in and no end in sight, I recalculated last night...I need 6. Now, if you've worked with Chunky Mochi, you know it's not cheap. $8-$9 gets you a mere 49 yards of yarn. I don't use it for big projects, or really, for many projects at all. It's hand wash only. It's gorgeous, and I happened to pick up several balls on sale some time ago. Unfortunately, I had to order more last night. Not on sale. So much for making most of my projects with stock yarn. Ordered buttons for several of my projects from Etsy. Next cast on will be the Old Man Cardigan, and I picked up some gorgeous, soft shimmery grey for it, and the bottons for it are wood, hand burned with a rose (nauseatingly cute, considering this cardigan is for Rosalie). Still haven't made progress on dyeing my blanks...
In the kitchen...it has indeed been a ravioli making extravaganza. The Mister is so tired of making them, but we had our first batch of chicken mushroom & ricotta ravioli last night, and man was it delicious. He's made a ton of batches, and a ridiculous amount of pesto. We shared some of his fresh bread with the new neighbors, one of which is also gluten free. No report back on what she thought of it, but I warned her husband that if she's not used to eating high fiber gluten free flour, it will make her fart. Man, I am a classy broad.
The woods have yielded a great deal of treasure this weekend, although Saturday's trip was mostly in vain. He'll be going out Tuesday to get the chantrelles that were too small for picking, as well as anything else that catches his eye. It was nice to have him home Sunday. I got to go to a mom's morning out function, and then laid in bed in the air conditioning (thank god for window units) and watched crap on netflix, knit, and napped. Speaking of crap on Netflix, I watched This Film Has Not Yet Been Rated. Very interesting documentary about the MPAA. My favorite parts were the interviews with John Waters and Boys Don't Cry director Kimberly Peirce.
So, going to tea yesterday morning was awesome. It wound up being only me and one other mama from our local community, but it was very pleasant, and gave me some food for thought. I'd hesitate to call this other mom a friend, she's more like a friendly acquaintance. We don't know each other well, but our community is a private closed one where everyone shares a lot. I really like her and have a lot of respect for her. She's kind and quiet and very real, in a completely opposite way than I am. Namely, she's not rude or offensive or in your face, which I know I have a tendency to be. We were talking about the way our lives are run, our priorities, and our long term plans. We don't have similar goals, but her life is no less authentic than mine. We definitely have a lot of shared principles, and probably some shared experiences that haven't been unearthed yet, and our conversation was a great reminder that not everyone has to want to do what we want to do in order to live authentically. For us, living authentically means a lot of DIY, it means being deeply connected to the land we live on and the food we eat. It means a return to traditional (way less technologically ruled) practices. Pretty sure The Mister would spirit us off to an Amish community if it weren't for that whole religion thing. It definitely gave me pause yesterday, and I spent a lot of time thinking about how authentic doesn't mean the same thing to everyone. I have a few really close friends who think our idea of perfect is an abhorrent way to live.
So, what does authentic mean to you?
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