Wrap or serape? And my very own Bloody Mary.

I have a fairly strict policy of packing my lunch every day.  It makes sense, both from a financial point of view and from the tried-and-true "I can make that better!" point of view.  No one can top my "Clean Out The Fridge" Salad.


However, during Farch, I cut myself some slack.  There are days when it is all I can do to get out of bed and shuffle off into my routine, let alone plan and pack my lunch.  Yesterday was one of those days.  When I saw -2 degrees on the thermometer, I threw up my hands and yelled "Uncle!"  This always has an interesting affect on my 'kids', who have been snoring softly (and not) from under their toasty piles of fleece blankets.  Jerked out of a sound sleep, Slimmie bolts for his room, Peanut barks madly and nothing in particular, and Lovey just looks worried.


Gluten free cuisine has not permeated much of this city, apparently.  If pushed, one can get a sandwich in a gluten free wrap for an extra buck-fifty.  PASS.  I usually ask for whatever I order without any bread product, but that usually causes panic or blank stares, and they forget anyway.  So I just count it as bonus chicken food.  Yesterday, I ordered a falafel wrap, from my favorite mid-Eastern type carryout place.  With the whole wheat wrap, she says virtuously, as I am trying to make sure my chickens have only the best.


I don't know if it's because I live in a cave, from a gourmand's point of view, or if we just make 'em big up here, but that wrap was the size of a poncho!

I was thinking of putting an umbrella
next to if, for scale

The chickens were thrilled.  They also got the rest of my Indian Butter Chickpeas, which were very good but I faltered after four days in a row.  I've got to remember to halve all the recipes.


I've pretty much finished my anklets - although I forgot that I needed to cast off the top loosely.  Because, you know, I finished the first one two days ago.  Much too long ago to remember.  Then I cast on a sweater. 


About this sweater.  While going through my office/craft room, I decided to winnow out my crafting library.  If there is one thing I know about myself, it is that I am sometimes more crazy about the 'stuff' involved in a craft, than the actual crafting of it.  Geez.  I went through my knitting books and found a) I had one that I hadn't even realized was for crocheting; b) of the remaining books, one contained only one pattern that I would even knit, one didn't even have ONE pattern I would knit, and one was full of patterns I would knit.  I rehomed the crocheting book and the knitting books that are getting the heave-ho, were heaved into my garage sale bin.  Once I settled on a pattern, I had to see if I even owned a sweater quality of yarn.  I may have lots (MEGALOTS) of yarn, but most of it is in single skeins or balls and all 'special'.  I should not have worried.  From the magical land of Oregon (and it IS magical - or, at least, there are magical people there), a box landed on my doorstep that very night, and contained the exact amount of yarn I needed for my sweater.  And then some.  Cue the spooky music.  The yarn was mailed before I even knew I was knitting a sweater.  I swear, it almost gave me goosebumps.  Because - are you sitting down? - it was also in the exact color that I was thinking about.  Lawsymercy.  (You know who you are, you Yarn Fairy, you.)

The Sweater

The yarn

As with all things I jump into, this pattern was unknown territory - knit from the bottom up (first for me), with a shaped form (read: decreasing in pattern - argh).  I sallied forth.  And promptly had to rip it completely back.  Too much sallying, too little focus.  This morning I shunned all social media, made a large cup of strong coffee, and concentrated.  Hi-ho!


If you don't believe that this endless frigid weather can cause one to lose the farm, become that last straw, make grown men weep and babies cry, well then, I am here to tell you that it can make quail go completely postal.   For most of this week, the overnight temperatures have hovered near, or under, zero.  The daytime temperatures haven't been anything to write home about either.  My quail have braved this weather for months - but, apparently, last night was the last straw.  When I uncloaked the hutch this morning, I noticed some bright red dots on the upstairs level.  OMG!  I got the door opened and the largest quail (most likely female) was chasing down her roommates and pecking them bloody!  I removed her and marched her down to the wood line and bid her bon voyage.  The remaining quail were huddled, bloody-headed and unnerved in a far corner.  I hope they can recover, poor things.  I have a feeling the Quail Venture is doomed.  (Really?  And, pray tell, why would you think that????)  Had it not been for my required hour commute this morning, there would have been bourbon in my hot chocolate.


I am going to put my seed-starting set up together this weekend in my hour of unscheduled time.  To hell with the housework.  I need something that evokes sunshine and green things.