The Five Really Good Things About Sunday

In Pictures:1) Sharing a breakfast of champions with the man I love and (yesterday's) Guardian. The supplement this weekend was the guide to baking, how auspicious was that?! By the way, the secret ingredient of the breakfast of champions: maple syrup and tabasco, baby. Mmmm.....

2) Going on this walk....

and meeting this kid with his Harris hawk, Thor. Apparently, Thor had his first taste of freedom today - his first flight!3) Discovering where Brussels Sprouts come from.

4) Making these cookies. Oatmeal scotchies...the toll house recipe of course, smuggled in from America and my all-time favorite cookie.
5) This souvenir from my in-laws' recent holiday in Egypt. Those belly dance lessons will be coming in handy afterall.

6) (I said 5 didn't I?) Making a start on my Christmas cards....6 1/2) That in England you get to say Happy Christmas instead.

Thanks Giving

(overheard: from my inbox)

Hey sis,

I know that you have been kinda thinkin 'bout dad this Thanksgiving season and Mom and I are going through some old pics that I don't know that you saw; with that said, here is a nice picture of Dad at peace. This, I can see, is where he sees beyond everything else in his life. Same as you and me.

Thanks, little sis. - xo big Bee

Five Things

Okay, so I'm crashing this party. And this one. While I'm at it, I may as well crash this one too. I'm hopping on your bandwagons ladies, look out!

First, let me explain why I think both of these challenges are a great exercise for me right now. I am in a funk man, and how! I think anything that helps me to recognize some of the positives in my day to day is up there with sliced bread and the Hoff.

Challenge numero uno: The five favorite photographs and why section. How can you choose just five? All of these on today's post came from a folder I have where I keep all the pics I've taken that I think just might the bee's knees. So, it's kind of like cheating really. I can't wait till I take the time to go through all of my old photos and see them with a fresh pair of eyes.
I think I'll leave the why part for a later post and let you think of your own reasons why these pics might mean something to me. I wonder, what do they mean to you?
The second part of this challenge is to list five things about today that were really good. I challenge you to do the same. Go on, I dare you.


The five really good things about Tuesday the 20th of November:

1) There's this 17th century windmill that I drive by on my way to work every morning. When I stop to think about it, I actually have a beautiful commute. Through hilly Warwickshire countryside along an ancient Roman road, so it's built up a little bit higher than your average English country lane and all the more straighter. Kudos Romans. Weatherwise, it turned out to be a miserable blow out of a day. Gusty wind, driving rain, you know the score. But it started out this morning just a little bit fragile. Morning light peaking through low clouds and a bit of fog rising up off the wet fields, this windmill at the top of the hill taking the full force of the sun's first meager amber effort to pierce through the grey. Beautiful.2) Rubbing Bisbee down with his towel when I got home from work after his being caught out in the rain all day. It's this sort of intimate routine we have, where he pretends he hates the rub down but comes back immediately after each 'escape.' His fur is always especially fluffy and clean after he stretches out in front of the fireplace to dry off.

3) My husband's patience. I'm really struggling to cope with my anxiety right now, insomia, inappetence, irritability.... you name it I've got it at the moment. He came home after day one of his three day Big Exams today (the one where he gets the letters after his name and everything) to find me in the midst of a full on panic attack.

I couldn't sleep last night for thinking I might have deleted this file of photos by accident. I backed up onto the external hard drive a couple of weeks ago, and at 3 this morning I woke with a fright at the thought that I made this mistake. Stupid, right? These are the ones from the 2 months I spent with family back in the States last year. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my nieces and nephews, all the preparations for our wedding. Some pretty important pics. So of course, because I'm acting obsessive and strange these days, I couldn't stop thinking about it all day and as soon as I get home I checked to see if they were there. They're gone of course. I checked all the computers and all the extra storage devices, gone. (If anyone knows any good data recovery software, please let me know!)

At any rate, good thing number three was how my husband is a champion. Pulled me out of my ridiculous state, helped me make dinner, gave me some extra time when I know he's freaking out himself because of the exams. Good thing number three is love.


4) Running into an old friend in an unexpected place.

5) Lists. Top five lists. And lists of the things that I'm going to do this winter so that it doesn't beat me. Including learn to make samosas, read the Painted Veil by Somerset Maugham, use my sewing machine more often, eat more fiber, continue taking belly dance classes, knit with beads, read The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass, watch Into the Wild, and to learn more about balance.

Busted!

So the Bisbee-beast got the best of this ball of yarn (or did it get the best of him?) We were laughing so hard that by the time he'd had his fun, it took us a full 15 biting and scratching minutes to untangle the poor fool from all the furniture he'd wrapped himself around!

I noticed he's got a bit of a limp today, but that may just be the bitter cold that's blown in. I think he'd tell you it was worth it, he'd been stalking that ball of wool for the past couple weeks as I'm slowly but surely making progress on the Pippa bag. Let's say I'm 85% finished with the knitting, but have tons of felting and sewing left to do. Damn, I'm slow these days. It used to be that I'd get so obsessed with a knitting project I wouldn't leave the house till it was finished, feverishly staying up all night just get those last few rows completed. I can't even sit through a movie anymore. Restless, restless.

(sorry about the photo quality, it was my mobile phone that snapped these!)

High on Believing

I was feeling pretty down today, then I saw this.

First signs of winter

We had the first big frost of the year overnight and a bright, but chilly day to follow. I have to admit that I'm a little tremulous about it getting really, really cold as the past few nights our house has been miserably cold. It's a rented house, so there's really not a whole lot we can do about it. I've been in touch with our letting agent and I'm optimistic that they may supply us with some sort of supplemental heating soon. I explained how we spend the evening in coats and hats and scarves and mittens and she shivered along sympathetically on the other end of the line. Keep your fingers crossed for us!!

You can see here where the bullfinches and waxwings have already cleared most of the berries in a feverish binge before winter sets in and means it.

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. -Mark Twain

I'll give you two guesses where you can find all of these wonderful titles. Have a good look at them. Did you spot the Biochemistry of Silage? Who among you found Horse-Shoeing in Your Right Mind? The Small-holder's Manual? Microbes and Man? Applied Dog Behavior and Training?

All of these intriguing titles and more (much more!) can be found at my new place of employment. Did I mention I'm now a librarian? Okay, Library Assistant. And not just any library, mind you, but one of the UK's only colleges devoted entirely to the Land-based studies. What are land-based studies, the Americans are grumbling. Well, I'll tell you. You got your agriculture, forestry, and countryside management. Your floristry, landscape architecture and design, and your sensory gardening. Somebody's got to fix your tractor, so we've got training for farm mechanics as well. Then there's the equine unit in which you can get your Master's in Stable Business Management (horse racing or riding school specializations, of course) or else train to be a riding instructor, a groom/stable hand, or in something mysteriously called equitation and maybe someone horsey out there can explain to me what that means. There's also the Veterinary Nursing department where you can train to be a vet nurse, or get your Bachelors in Veterinary Business studies. You can learn to work with lab animals, train guide dogs, become a farrier, a blacksmith, or if construction or joinery's your bag there's courses for you too.

All the girls wear their jodhpurs and riding boots and I have to admit I feel a little out of sorts in my boring old office wear. Truth be told however, so far I'm quite enjoying my new job. Being a librarian is a fiddly sort of profession that suits my selectively perfectionist persuasion. I especially like talking with the students, it's a good mix of kids - the farm machinery boys are only there for 12 weeks and are a bit rough and rowdy and I'm always a little surprised when one of them checks out a book. On the other end of the spectrum are the oh-so-serious Equine Science majors who never leave the library and beg you to let them check out just one more book when they've already gone 4 or 5 over their 10 book allowance.
Speaking of equines, who's that out my office window? We haven't been formally introduced but I hear he's called William. Or was it Harry? I'm quite certain it was one of the princes anyway. All of this horse business has finally prompted me to read the Horse Whisperer. Why didn't you tell me it was so good? It's about time I read the damn thing and now I can't put it down. I'm even seriously considering riding again since I'm so surrounded by the horseys day in and day out. I inhale the alluring aroma of horseshit all day and listen to the clip clopping of their shoes out my window and occasionally Prince Charles here gives me a hearty ole whinny.

I haven't ridden in years. My family had quarter horses and paints when I was a teenager though I'm ashamed to admit how quickly I lost interest once I turned 16 and got a car and discovered boys. It didn't help that every time I got in trouble for something involving the newfound cars or boys, the punishment was always the same: The entire weekend up at dawn stripping stalls and hauling manure out back in a wobbly wheel barrow in the pouring down rain. It sort of killed the romance of horses for me. Particularly when my parents went through their 'we're going to be horse breeders' phase and would have as many as 17 or 18 horses at any one time.

If I'm honest, I'm a bit intimidated by dressage and equitation and show jumping and the like. I've only ever ridden Western and I was hardly disciplined about it. My favorite thing to do (nevermind that I once paid dearly for it with a torn Achilles tendon and a plaster cast on my ankle for 6 weeks when I was 12) was to just plain hop on the horses while they were out at pasture. Even better if I was barefoot. There was something so wildly free and exhilaratingly sensual, even at 11 years old, about riding bareback and barefoot with nothing but a halter and lead for a bridle, or sometimes less. Plainly at the mercy of whatever whim the horse I was riding would take. Which mostly meant my holding on for dear life as they tried desperately to buck me off or hoped that if they ran fast and hard enough under the one tree on the edge of the field with the low branch they might just be rid of me and get back to munching on that fine, green grass. Damn, I had balls back then. (What happened to those, anyway?) Somehow I find the English approach so aristocratic and antiquated - though I know plenty of riders who themselves are neither of these things! Somebody talk me into it, I dare you.

I saved the best for last here's my favorite shelf of all. I especially like the way cheesemaking, trapping, squirrel control and beekeeping are all in one convenient place. Truly one stop shopping.

Autumn Pic of the Week

Though it can hardly be called autumn any longer, it's becoming more and more wintry everyday. It's below freezing tonight, there's already frost on the corners of the window frame, and we're seriously re-thinking how charming living in a quirky Victorian cottage is afterall, bearing in mind it hasn't been updated in 50 years. As the hub says, "It's blowing a gale through here." And that's just through the front door, nevermind the back! I guess we'll just have to cuddle.
Cheers!

Doh!

Which one of these needles is not like the others? Now that you'll be humming that sesame street classic under your breath the rest of the day, I'll explain. I grabbed the wrong friggin needle when rushing about to pack up for the quick trip back to the States last week when I was frantically rummaging through my to-do box. Consequently, one side of the Pippa Bag has this unsightly little bulge where I'd picked it up using the mistakenly identified offending 5 mm needle.
For whatever reason (hmmm, could it be travel exhaustion?) I didn't even notice until I got to Tucson and started in on the second side piece of the bag and began to run out of yarn. "Surely, the pattern called for 4 skeins, why does it look like I'll need six?" I said, puzzled. Apply hand to forehead here.

I'm going with it. It's felted, no one will be any the wiser, right? Any experienced felters out there please feel free to advise. This is my first felted piece.

This led my selectively anal-retentive nature down the long path of an inner monologue regarding how to avoid this in the future. Having worked as a vet nurse for a number of years, an obvious solution strikes me. We label instruments that all belong in the same surgical kit with rings of coloured tape to denote a matching set. I think I may embark on the same endeavor with my needles. Surely, that's the most overly drastic measure I could take. It would probably just be simpler to bind them together with rubber bands or create one of those wonderful needle organizers that I see patterns for all over the place. In fact, there's a pattern for one in the very same Rowan book that the Pippa Bag's pattern is in.

Queen Bee Poll: How do you organize your needles and other implements of mass construction?

Bisbee Friday!

Look who made himself at home on my desk.

Tuesday's Autumn Pic of the Week

Sunrise through the spiderweb.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Right. So, on the 5th of November in 1605, Guy Fawkes was caught in the cellars of the Houses of Parliament with several dozen barrels of gunpowder. The king frowned upon this, quite obviously, and Fawkes and his fellow plotters were hung, drawn and quartered. Not in that order, of course. You were drawn and quartered first, to make sure it was a most painful sensation before having the breath squeezed out of you by the noose. Did you know the English midlands was at the heart of this plot? In fact, the plotters themselves were caught in the next village over, in fair Dunchurch. Or so I was told by a strikingly convincing primary school teacher last night.

The nursery rhyme, of course, was invented to remind future generations that treason carried with it the most heinous of punishments. And even today, at least in my village, the local children make effigies of old Guy out of old clothes filled with newspapers and the like, to be burned to the general conviviality and camaradarie of the village folk on Bonfire Night, the 5th of November.

It was the Green Man Pub in my village that was responsible for the biggest fireworks display in the county. Whether that is actually true or not remains to be seen, however, the biggest damn bonfire this side of an American High School Homecoming night was certainly in effect. There was beer and hotdogs for all, though my dear neighbor Zoe insisted the queue was much too long for hotdogs and if truth be told, that sausage kind of weirded her out (fair enough) and that the Scampi and Chips at the Harvester (not the chain) were soooo worth the wait. Doesn't she look convincing with that beer at hand?

She was right, of course, about the Scampi, and surely the sausage as well. Oddly enough, British Scampi isn't anything like the North American version of Scampi, but is instead some sort of fish by-product mashed and muddled and then most likely artificially flavored to taste like fish and then rolled liberally and gluttonously in bread crumbs and then deliciously deep fat fried. Yum. Totally worth the wait, especially after all that beer on an empty stomach. Whoa! Did I mention how big the bonfire was?
Then came the fireworks. I am decidedly crap at photographing the fireworks. Luckily, the Green Man display lasted a full 35 minutes and I had plenty of opportunity to practice. Unfortunately, the beer on an empty stomach got the best of me and this, I'm afraid, was the best I could do.Long Live Long Itchington!! And God save the Queen. Or something.

Home Sweet Home (or home is where the heart is)

Well, I made it home after a gruelingly long haul across the Atlantic and an even more punishing journey on England's fine rail system with the 88 pound suitcase of goodies I brought home from America!! The exchange rate is so good right now, I just couldn't help myself! And besides, tis the season for cornbread and those jiffy mixes are only 34 cents a piece!

Despite my inherent grumpiness after the 24 hour door to door, the hub was happy to see me and treated me to fish and chips at our favorite village pub after which, belly full of Duck on the Pond goodness, I crashed hard until about midnight at which point I lay with my eyes wide open for most of the night. What a dumbass!! I'd signed up for a knitting class today to learn more about cables and beading, but can barely keep my eyes open so I ducked out on it. I'm really bummed about missing it, because I've been looking forward to it for weeks. I can hardly string two words together much less gab with the girls whilst learning new skills for the day.

Besides, tonight we get to see Iron & Wine play at the Rescue Rooms in Nottingham. I need to conserve my energy. I heart Sam Beam. And Sarah Beam and well anything and anyone connected to the band..... Here they are in Vienna when I saw them last with Calexico, nearly 2 years ago. I believe Sam is much furrier these days. Tell me what you think of the new album, The Shepherd's Dog. On first listen, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it, I liked it but I was hesitant to say it sounded anything remotely like what I expected from an Iron & Wine album. I listened to it a ton on the flight back home and it's really beginning to grow on me. And behold! You can now actually rock out to an Iron & Wine song courtesy of this album. Thanks, Sam!