I somehow managed to get myself back into a hole last week, and ended up one post short, writing only three. I really do prefer having a goal and a schedule, but I still somehow get sidetracked from routines far too easily. And although I prefer to be somewhat consistent with the blog, if I can manage it, I also have to admit that I am plunging headlong into a rather busy time here and may have to accept that blogging time, as well as coherent thought, may be in short supply. Not that I'm going to stop blogging, just that I should cut myself a little slack.
Last week was probably worth it though. I had lunch with friends, twice. We had family visiting and then we had more family visiting: all in all a series of joyous occasions which more than made up for the piles of work to be done when all the merriment came to an end.
Here is what I wore on a rather rainy day which started with lunch with a new friend whom I wish I had gotten to know sooner, and ended with a long laughter filled dinner with G and his sister.
Because it was raining, and I was running around a lot, I wanted to be comfortable and practical but also just a little bit festive. Since the weather has been turning cooler, I thought of this lovely gray and aqua reversible cardigan by Carlisle, which is at least 10 years old. With it I wore gray corduroy pants purchased just last week from Banana Republic, my black Aquatalia rain boots, and an aqua cotton shell I made in 2005. The scarf is also by Carlisle, athough I don't remember the year, and the silver necklace belonged to G's mother.
A couple of days later, after two uncomfortable and sleepless nights topped off with the beginnings of a sinus headache that would hang on for days, I was happy to have the same pants and necklace readily at hand, being out of my normal routine and having left them out. We had more visiting relatives that day, but all I could manage was loose and comfortable. I really would have been perfectly happy to spend the day in my jammies, perfectly invisible, but it was just not to be.
The second time around I paired the pants with an old silk blouse from J Crew, left dangling, its curved hem exposed, and a gray cashmere sweater made for Neiman Marcus, both of uncertain vintage. As you can see, I was aiming or the feel of those longed-for pajamas, enveloped in soft layers anchored by heavy metal and kick-ass boots. These are the second pair of Acne boots I purchased this season, incredibly profligate I know, but I love my first pair so much, that when I saw these I couldn't help myself. Someone thought the fact that I was wearing boots was noteworthy, I just thought it was an every day kind of thing. When I wear boots I feel pulled together. I guess you have to like boots to understand.
Another finished sweater. This one with far more ambivalent results.
I am just not sure what I think. It does look a great deal like the pattern photo:
But the fabric feel to light and flimsy to me, and the drape of the rayon makes the belt grow longer and thinner as the day wears on. I am constantly readjusting.
So I tried removing the belt, opening up the side seams to make belt loops and wearing a different belt with the sweater. It may be marginally better, but I am not convinced we are meant for each other, this sweater and I.
More likely I let my imagination run away with my common sense.
The questions arises, in a world where black seems to be the be all and end all of the basic wardrobe, what am I going to wear if I don't wear black?
Well, color of course. I love color. I always have loved color. But I really don't like being all bright and shocking, too much color and I feel like a neon lightbulb glaring for miles in the desert night. Not good.
I was already gravitating toward grayed plums and soft lilacs. Taupes and those uncommon grays that are neither warm or cool have always been my favorite neutrals even if they seem to be the most difficult to find. I love the combination of rose and gray and would love it even if they were not my school colors, even though my alma mater's current interpretation of rose often seems to run toward burgundy. But it was a post by Une Femme that really lead me to 12 Blueprints and this photo.
This pictures exactly captures the kind of soft muted layering I like to wear, the kind of colors in which I feel most at home and comfortable. Yes sometimes I wear deeper colors this, and the pinks aren't represented here, but most of my colors are not saturated, not bright and the look overall is not dark and brooding, but soft, with colors that have that rich but subtle glow you find through a veil of fog. And although I don't specifically have a problem with black itself, and in fact love the way shades of black play so well with textures and interesting shapes in clothing, I increasingly find that black is often just a little too strong of a statement for me, for the self I want to share with the world. I would like black to be the exception not the rule in my wardrobe.
Looking at this photo, and exploring color made me think about what clothes I feel best in, not about what clothes I think I should like or what other people think I look best in. After noodling around 12 blueprints a bit I pulled out my old Donna Fuji color sample palette, which had long since fallen apart and was in fact difficult for me to use. Donna pegged me as a color similar to "soft summer" which she called "deep summer", again a summer with some autumn transitions. But some of the colors from that Donna Fuji palette don't really suite me anymore and I was intrigued by this variation and wanted to learn more. I was also in the middle of sorting through my own stash and closets, caught up in this mid-life, mid-move urge to simplify, and I wanted to eliminate anything wasn't just what is right for me now. Eventually I did end up with a new color palette, and the first thing I noticed when the palette arrived in my mailbox, was that every one of my favorite colors was included. And that made me very happy.
By the time G and I were walking around the sheep festival my personal color sense had become second nature and I could quickly look at things with the confidence of knowing something was or was not me. This doesn't mean I don't admire colors I would not wear, but I no longer find them tempting. When we came to a booth showing woven garments I was initially taken by a series of jackets in shades of gray and black which were subtle and sophisticated and not at all what I wanted to wear personally, but which I could admire all the same. But G spotted something else, a pink jacket, and he thought I should try it on. He was right of course, the instant I saw it I knew the colors were perfect. I loved it and felt happy wearing it. I thought it would be fabulous with jeans or casual pants and imagined it mostly with denim, grays, and the kind of sandy grayed taupes I prefer. It is a straight kimono-style jacket of the type that I tend to think of as casual, but as you can see here, it also worked well dressed up a little with black.
I wore the new jacket to our anniversary lunch at G's request, and although weekday lunch at the American Bounty room is not formal, jeans are just a trifle too casual. I wore it with the same Joseph Ribkoff pants you saw in Monday's post, a black Lands End scoop neck tee, an amethyst and jade necklace, and the pair of iron bracelets that were my other anniversary gift.
Somehow it felt like I wore a lot of black last week, and it's true, I did wear black three days. I don't think I wore black three days all summer, except perhaps for gym clothes. My gym wardrobe pretty much revolves around black pants and a black tee, but generally that is the exception to my wardrobe rules.
So, why the black? And why is it even notable? I mentioned last week that I am not purchasing black items right now, although I have not eliminated black from my wardrobe. If I did I would lose most of my basic pieces, and I don't really want to have to replace them all at once. I'd prefer to eliminate them as I purchase or make new basics that work better for me.
But black worked for me this week, partly because there were a few days when I did not feel like wearing jeans, and it seemed too late in the season to be wearing white pants other than jeans, which meant that pretty much all that was left in my fall wardrobe was one summer skirt, and black.
For example, there was this sweater, which I finished in August, and which has been sitting patiently on Matilda waiting for me to wear it. Admittedly I had issues, and it was too hot in August for wool and silk anyway, but now that I've finally worn it most of those issues have been resolved. Some garments just seem to need to worm their way into my heart slowly.
I originally knit this sweater last January, ripped it out, and reknit it. The second time around I knit a size smaller, the medium, or 29" bust measurement, which fit the pattern instructions to knit with approximately 9 inches of negative ease. The first time I was apparently suffering from cognitive dissonance and I knit a larger size. I still sometimes do that, think I am bigger than I am, and the results are usually not pretty.
When I decided to knit this pattern, which is named Valencia, (non-ravelry link here) I noted that several people on Ravelry said that the sweater was either too tight or too short, the shortness undoubtedly being secondary to excessive widthwise stretching. Although most of them were using different yarns, not the yarn recommended in the pattern, and although I am all for yarn substitution, I thought that yarn could be part of the difference. The pattern was written for Cascade's Venezia Worsted, a wool silk blend. The silk gives the yarn a subtle shine and a bit of drape, with the wool providing a bit of recovery. Yarns that drape tend to grow or relax more than yarns without drape. I used the same yarn because I happen to love it, and because it was available at my LYS. But the sweater still drapes more than it clings. Were I to knit it again, I might use a different yarn, or were I to use the wool/silk blend again, I would go down another size. The warmth of the body encourages the drape, and the sweater is looser on me than it was on Matilda.
But I am happy with it and will wear it again and again. The color is actually more blue than in these photos, more like the color in the original January post. My photoshop skills are not adequate to overcome the warming effect of the rather horizontal autumnal sun. And I believe the sweater will look fabulous with the kind of soft, muted, medium tones purple, violet and gray toward which in increasingly gravitate.
But it worked with black. And black is good too, and perfect for a transitional wardrobe when life is a bit unsettled. I wore the sweater with black Born wedges, black knit pants by Joseph Ribkoff, and a lightweight black mesh cardigan. Since I have several black cardigans in different weights this may well prove to be a basic outfit over the next two to three months as I pack, move, and get settled. I really like this cardigan and wish I had another one in a different color, but since the label came off long ago, and the store from which I bought it has closed, I have no idea where to look and may end up eventually knitting something.
The skies were clear this morning as the sun rose, and the temperatures have finally equalized enough that we no longer have the thick early morning fog rising off the Hudson River. For a few brief moments everything just glowed with the warmth of the early morning light. I grabbed my camera but as I went outside my battery died and I had to run in again. I only managed one photo before the light suddenly shifted, and you can, in fact see the beginnings of that shift along the bottom of the photo and along the edge of the opposite shore.
That lovely autumnal color is as much the light as the colors on the trees. Most of the trees are actually bare, which you will see if you look closely. The colors have not been good this year, which is a sad kind of fairwell. There has been very little red, the leaves mostly just turning yellow then brown and falling off the trees. There has been far too much rain. The ground has been saturated for weeks and never really dries out. Trees don't any better with overwatering than houseplants.
Still, it is nice to have one last autumnal photograph to remember the old place by. We have decided that we will be moving in December. The new house should be ready the very end of the month or beginning of January and we should really be down there before closing anyway. So there will be a few weeks in temporary housing. I'm not ready, but I really won't be until it is done, and I already feel like our life is in a kind of limbo. Might as well get things moving along.
You might be wondering why, if I have a break in my time, I am not regaling you with things I've made, specifically things I've knit. I believe I mentioned that there have been two finished projects, which were done when I had less knitting time, but since my time has "freed up" nothing, nothing at all.
Or of course, you might not be wondering at all, not being a knitter, and you might be thinking "OMG she's about to go on and on about boring stuff involving long pointy sticks and string". And you'd be right. This is your chance, quit now or suffer the consequences.
I actually was sitting and knitting in the evenings, working on this kind of odd vesty-thing. It is designed by Anne Thompson and is called Creep. I was using this incredibly luscious alpaca yarn by Asland Trends, in a yummy shade of blue, blissfully whiling away the hours, when my knitting encountered an accident in the form of a four-legged terror. You see, I made a mistake. I put my knitting away, in my knitting bag, which zips closed, but (and this is a really BIG BUT) I left the zipper open by maybe half an inch, maybe less, at any rate not much.
And you know I've told you about how my sweet little baby cat, Moisés loves yarn, and is a very focused hunter. When he gets an idea in his head it stays there; he may file it away in some back corner of his little cat brain while he pursues more immediate concerns like chasing lights and flies, but as soon as an opportunity presents itself, he remembers and pounces.
Anyway Moises has figured out that if I leave the tiniest little opening in the zipper, he can get his claws in there and make it a little bigger, worrying that zipper along until the opening gets bigger and bigger until eventually he can get his head in the bag and survey the options before reaching in and snagging some prize.
Well of course, soft yummy alpaca is very tempting to a yarn loving cat. When I got up the next morning, this is what I found. Not particularly pretty is it? Of course I thought I would rip it out and start again, but the way this is knit and cast off and picked up and knit again (just writing all that gives me a headache) makes it difficult enough to unravel and the whole thing is made more complicated by the ministrations of little kitty claws.
I spent one whole evening, 3 hours, and got maybe a few feet of yarn untangled. And although some part of me doesn't want to admit to being defeated by yarn, I learned that it is only a very small bit. I am very willing to cut my losses and get back to what is important, namely knitting.
Now that sounds simple doesn't it?
But no. My evil little brain sometimes gets the better of me. I had a small part of that skein of soft blue yarn left and I wanted to do something with it. Apparently, like Moisés I store ideas up in the back of my brain where they pop out, unexpectedly, when an opportunity presents itself.
A friend and I had been talking about learning lever knitting, which is basically knitting, where one needle remains relatively motionless and the yarn is manipulated around the fixed needle. I decided that it had been too long since I forced myself to learn something new and this little bit of blue yarn offered huge potential for subjecting me to some kind of prolonged torture in the name of education.
I spent another day attempting to learn to hold my needles and my yarn differently. Mostly I just ripped and reknit the same little bit of yarn over and over again with increasing frustration. In desperation I turned to the web (yes, I know I should have done that first, but well, sometimes I am a slow learner), and I found a video of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee knitting using the lever method, or Irish cottage knitting.
I was entranced. I watched this thing over and over again. Something really clicked when she compared the action of knitting to the action of a sewing machine, and I really wanted to do this.
My fingers could work like a sewing machine when there was no yarn in my hands, but doing it with actual yarn was problematic. Either my yarn fell off my hands and I dropped stitches, or I wrapped the yarn so tightly that it cut off the circulation in my fingers and got my hands locked in place with the needle. I spent another day in a protracted struggle with yarn and needles before it finally began to click.
Obviously I am not a natural knitter.
A week later I am reknitting Creep with new yarn. This time I am using Cascade Venezia Worsted in a lovely teal. I am not yet faster than I was before, but I like this technique. My tension is tighter than it used to be and far more even. My knitting tension remains remarkably even whatever my personal tension level happens to be. My tension remained consistent even after I accidentally flung a 14 inch metal needle across the waiting room of the Vassar Brothers Medical Center Radiology Department yesterday and had to listen to it clang as it bounced along the tile floor several times, even as I endured the irate glare of the lady who had just told us all to be "very very quiet" because she couldn't hear Judge Alex on the television, even as I nervously managed to tangle my fingers in the yarn and then drop the yarn under the chairs as I tried to extricate myself, even after all of that, my tension remained fabulously even.
As too Creep. I will confess that at the moment I have doubts. I look at the pattern picture above, and the mess of loopy knitting hanging off my needles and wonder what I was thinking when I decided to knit this project. Oh, I will probably love it in the end. At least I hope I will love it in the end. Right now my brain is too fogged up with learning new things to really think clearly, but I am loving knitting, and am sneaking in a row or two whenever I get a chance, so I know it will have been worthwhile whatever the outcome.
Today is our 25th Wedding Anniversary. There are no big celebrations planned and yet it is a special day and like a good marriage will be celebrated with a combination of the necessary, the mundane, the joyful and the decadent:
Go to vet to pick up prescription for insulin for Sam the cat.
Meet with investment advisor for retirement accounts
Lunch at the American Bounty Room with Champagne
Nap
Light Dinner
Sit on sofa and watch TV (Ringer tonight!)
Have a lovely day and I will be back later in the week.
Sometimes the simplest outfits bring the greatest satisfation.
This past weekend was "Rhinebeck Weekend". It was the weekend of the NYS Sheep and Wool Festival and I was up at the fairgrounds both Saturday and Sunday. Sunday I also went to the Farmer's Market and considering the amount of traffic, and that quite a few of the parking lots were closed due to excessive mud, I found parking near the fairgrounds in a moderately muddy, but still driveable field, and walked back to town for the produce before proceeding to the sheep fest.
Obviously, practicality and functionality were a consideration. Of course I wore boots. Specifically I wore my Frye Harness boots, my go-to boots when a lot of standing, walking and possibly questionable terrain are involved. This is actually my Sunday outfit. Sunday was the warmer day, with mixed sun and clouds and this outfit offered just enough warmth without being stiffling inside crowded barns.
Although this outfit isn't particularly stylish and is in fact probably pretty boring, I felt fabulous wearing it. I felt completely comfortable in my skin, appropriate, and even chic, if chic can be defined as a state of mind, whether I was at the farmer's market, walking throgh town, at the fairgrounds, or out with G in the afternoon perusing old master drawings at the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center.
With the boots I am wearing a pair of Agave Paraiso straight leg jeans in a medium wash, which had the pefect "feel" and weight, both physical and metaphysical. The lightweight plaid shirt is cotton batiste, purchased at Eddie Bauer last year. But it is the outer top that may be my favorite "new" piece this year. New is in quotes because it is really old. This is one of many sweet things I found in a box of old clothes that fit me before I gained so much weight, clothes that are all at least 7 or 8 years old and some even older. Surprisingly, I did a good job of editing that box, because not only do they fit they are styles I will happily wear.
But back to the black top. It is a pleated lightweight woven fabric (polyester and wool) by Issey Miyake that G gave me. I don't think I wore it much. I never wore much black (the exception being the past few years) and I couldn't quite figure out how to wear it in a way I liked. It does strike me as funny that now that I have decided to gradually eliminate most black from my wardrobe, I find an old black piece that I adore and will wear. I'm not eliminating pieces I love now that happen to be black though, I am just not buying black, so this still fits into the general plan.
Even though the two collars were at odds throughout most of the day, I loved the shirts together. I love the idea of wearing the Miyake piece as a layering piece, something that never occurred to me 8 years ago. I see now that this piece was just waiting, patiently, to be rediscovered.
Yesterday was a kind of blah day, and although it was cool and rainy, I'm not talking about the weather per se even though it is possible that the dreary skies and rain did dampen my state of mind.
In my head I'd had this idea that I would now have some time off to explore my own interests, that there would be a bit of a rest between putting the house on the market and actually moving. Yesterday it finally dawned on me how many decisions still needed to be made and how much needed to be done and my imaginary reprieve vanished like the dream it was. The truth is that I am ready to go, even if I'm not really ready to pack. I just want to get on with it. I want someone to buy my house, to close the deal, and move. But it may take longer than that. I had hoped to move in December, but there have been delays and the new place may not be ready until January. But January is an iffier month in which to move, and I had hoped to avoid the winter. Now I have to make decisions and consider other plans, think about the actual options not just my hoped-for scenario.
Reality has a way of kicking in like that and disrupting our fantasies.
I've given myself the weekend off. This is Sheep and Wool weekend here in Rhinebeck, and I intend to spend most of my time at the fairgrounds. Early next week is our anniversary. After that I have to start working on plans again, decide if we are going to stay and wait for either this house to sell or that house to be finished, or just go, finding temporary space for ourselves. Only when I know what we want to do can I figure out how best to make it happen.
In the meantime, I made soup. I love soup and could eat soup every day. G does not feel the same way. I gave him a break this summer and there were no summertime soups. Now that the nights are cool and crisp and the leaves are turning colors however, I feel that it is once again time for the comfort of soup.
The inspiration for this soup came from Food & Wine magazine back in August 2008. It was fancier, and more fussy: a salad contained in a soup. I suppose the original was a late summer soup. Although my version still revolves around a summer vegetable, it is more of a fall soup.
Yellow Squash Soup with Sausage (4 servings)
1 Tablespoon unsalted butter
2 pounds yellow squash, preferably small, cut in 1" chunks
2 bay leave
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
1 1/2 cups water
1 cup buttermilk
salt and pepper to taste
12 ounces pre-cooked sausage such as kielbasa, sliced into thin rounds
Melt the butter in a medium-large saucepan over low heat. Add the yellow squash and bay leaves and stir to coat lightly. Place a sheet of waxed paper over the top of the pot and then place the lid on top of the wax paper, sealing the pot tightly, turn the heat to very low. Cook undisturbed over low heat for 10 minutes, until the squash is beginning to soften and is quite fragrant but is not yet turning brown.
Remove the lid and wax paper from the pot, discarding the wax paper. Add the broth and water, replace the lid on the pot and bring to a simmer. Simmer until the squash is soft. Remove pot from heat and allow to cool slightly.
Discard the bay leaves. Transfer soup to a blender and puree until smooth. Depending on the size of your blender, you may have to do this in batches. Stir in the buttermilk and season with salt and pepper to taste.
While the soup is cooling heat a skillet over moderate heat. Add the sliced sausage and heat until just hot through and perhaps beginning to brown. Do not overcook or the sausage slices will be tough.
Divide sausages between 4 bowls and top with soup.
In the batch I made yesterday I used a local venison sausage from Highland Deer Farm. I have used their Venison Keilbasa, and the Venison Garlic Sausage and this was the latter. In the winter, when their sausages are not always available in local markets, I tend to prefer the Andouille sausage from Aidell's, although regular keilbasa would also work. The soup itself has a very subtle flavor and a spicier sausage compliments it well although it is also lovely plain, without the sausage, in a cup. This recipe would fill 6 standard mugs with soup (not the oversized variety).
Now that the days are getting shorter, I am often up before the sun. Unfortunately, I have no view of the sunrise to enjoy with my morning coffee, usually just a gradual brightening as the sun filters through the thick morning fog that coats the river.
So far the subtle play of light through fog is something I am unable to capture on film.
The sunsets, however, have been spectacular, and although my photographic skills don't capture their full glory, I occasionally come close.
Although I love the longer days of summer. The fall sunsets are somehow more vivid and the timing now is perfect.
Providing the perfect counterpoint to the day.
Allowing time to pause and reflect.
Before settling in on the sofa with my sweetie for a few quiet hours.
I used to think of myself as continually distracted, but that is far from the truth. The truth is that I find the world to be filled with fascinating things that capture my attention. When I am doing something I love, be it reading a book, listening to music, sewing, knitting, learning something new, or just daydreaming, I am so totally focused that the intrusion of the world comes as something of a shock. There are so many things pulling at my hearstrings, so many things in which to lose myself, so many things tempting away from my one true passion ..... of the moment. I want to explore them all.
Despite these changing passions, there are some constants in my affections: sewing, knitting, style and clothing, music, food. These are the main topics I will consider here, although there will be digressions and explorations as well.
