Author: 459856pwpadmin

  • Gone and Good Riddance

    Say goodbye.

    Cuisinart

    I said farewell to the cuisinart today.  It was not a sad occasion.  A new food processor will be procured, not a Cuisinart; I am done with that company.

    The first cuisinart I owned lasted a long time.  I used it heavily for over 15 years and then something broke.  The part was too old; the company was not helpful.  The part could not be replaced.  So I bought  a new food processor, also from Cuisinart even though Kitchenaides were beating Cuisinarts in the ratings.  My old machine had been excellent.  I should have paid attention to the ratings.

    This machine has been trouble.  Things break.  Replacements are not covered by the "limited" warranty.  "Limited to what" I want to know.  Limited to things that don’t break?  Some parts are not replaceable at all.  Cuisinart doesn’t want to bother.  The lid had broken, the stupid little piece at the back that holds everything in place.  No replacement available.  I could hold it together with a screwdriver in one hand while I drove the machine with the other.  I should have known it was a lost cause.

    Last night the lid kept popping off, the mixer kept stopping, the chef’s frustration level kept rising.  Eventually not only did the lid pop off it flew across the room, the bowl spun, food went everwhere.  Foul language escaped my mouth, even in front of houseguests. 

    I will not miss this machine.  It deserves a far worse fate.

  • Little Boxes

    Ruanas, shawls, and garments based on rectangles continue to fascinate me.  Usually however I am disappointed in them when I actually see them on the body.  Any given individual example may work on a particular person, but draping rectangular garments over rounded forms is difficult unless the exactly correct proportions are achieved.

    Yesterday this garment arrived for my consideration, forwarded by a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus.  It is surprising because it is not the kind of thing I have ever purchased from this store.

    Haat1

    It looks rather nice on Matilda doesn’t it.  She has the advantage of not having arms. The actual garment was much too narrow through the shoulders for me. 

    The jacket is by one of the Issey Miyake Lines, HaaT, and it basically consists of a large rectangle with sleeves, something like this sketch:

    Haat6

    You can see the construction from the inside of the garment here:

    Haat5

    But what is really interesting about this garment is not its shape.  It is hard to keep on the body, and I think it would work better as a modified rectangle.  What is really interesting is the fabric.  The body of the jacket is made up of a bunch of small rectangles of fabric that have been pieced together at the corners.  The fabric seems to have been fulled slightly, but not completely felted;  this probably does help with ravelling, but this is not a jacket for heavy duty wear. 

    Haat_003

    After the individual pieces were all sewn togther long rows of machine stitching were made free form to create the stripes on the fabric, and a few appliques were added.

    Haat3

    Pockets were placed on the inside of the jacket:

    Haat_008

    I am really intrigued by this cutting up or deconstructiong of fabric and then reconstructing in a similar but different form.  This could be fun to play with someday.  I see many possibilities, not practical maybe, but fun.

  • Digging to America

    Digging to America was a joy to read, as I would expect from any novel by Anne Tyler.  There is no great action, no great turmoil, and in fact very little self-analysis, although more in this book than some.  But Tyler’s novels of everyday life and everyday people are so well drawn, so personal that the reader is pulled into the characters, feeling themselves a part of the family, as if these are people we know and care about on an intimate level.

    It is a fairly complex story a story about culture, community, family, and fitting in.  The truth is we all feel that we don’t fit at some point or another, or many of us, any way, but Tyler explores the ins and outs of family and cultural difference with a deft ear.  The juxtaposition of two families, each adopting Korean infants, leaves room for a generous and tender exploration of American-ness, both through the Donaldsons, an American family in all its variations, and the Yasdans, an Iranian-American family. The book really made me think about culture and assimilation, foreign-ness and exclusion, and even what it means to be an American and what assumptions Americans tend to make no matter from where on the political spectrum they hail.

    The writing is straightforward and simple.  This is not a book you savor for the beauty of its prose, or for transporting you away to an imaginary place away from real life.  And that is not to say that it is poorly written and not a joy to read.  The spare simplicity is very evocative and effecting. It is a very well written novel.  It is certainly not a literary novel though, and I don’t mean that as a critisism.

    In some sense it is different than most books I love.  I tend to love books for the writing, a true luxury that is, like slowly savoring the finest chocolate, or I love books for the story itself, the way it draws me in to a world of its own and takes me to some other place, outside of real life, a place were visions can become reality.  These books are a necessity of sorts; we all have times when we need to escape from life as we know it into some fantasy world, be that a world of espionage and adventure, romance, beautiful clothes and expensive real estate, or just plain old fantasy.  By being able to indulge in some fantasy life we are able to more easily accept and tolerate real life.

    This book does not really provide that escape; it is a book that draws you in to the details of life, and perhaps, but only perhaps requires that you look at the people that make up that life a little differently.  There were times I was exhausted and annoyed by each of the characters with their assumptions and beliefs and negative values.  But we are all like that.  We all blunder through life sometimes more successfully than others.

    And yet the book was enjoyable in its own quiet, reflective sort of way. I finished the book hoping the characters will get a little closer to getting it right the next time, and perhaps hoping that I too, might be a little closer to that elusive goal.

    In the end it is the story that I always fall for, and this story is no exception.  Highly recommended.

  • Hot! Hot! Hot!

    Last night’s performance at the Berkshire Choral Festival was truly specatacular.  We were treated to Brahm’s German Requiem with Kelly Nassief and Phillip Cutlip.  I had heard NAssief before and really enjoyed her performance.  Cutlip was new to me but also wonderful.  The entire performance was a joy, and I am sure this was not ony because I love the work so.  Both G and I were humming bits and pieces throughout the entire drive home.

    But it was unusually hot in Sheffield, as hot as at home.  Usually it is much cooler in the Berkshires, even in the fierest heat wave.  And it is hot here, mid 90s with high humidity, and expected to continue like this for several days.

    We went out blueberry picking this morning and then cherry picking as well before stopping at the farmer’s market.  By the time we returned I felt totally wilted.  G. does not tend to keep water in his car, a camel he is, never thirsty.

    But as soon as I saw the yard I knew that no amount of personal wilt would allow me to stay inside, lest I lose my babies.  The flower beds looked they would soon be gone, the plants lying on death’s door.  After pitting cherries and getting them in the freezer, I was back outside, hose in hand, Schubert on the Ipod, watering.

    We got about 3/4 inch of rain on Wednesday, and yesterday’s rain obviously did not account for much.  But the plants aren’t used to this kind of heat, and they obviously don’t like it.  I can’t say I blame them.

    We don’t have a sprinkler system.  We really can’t have the high-pressure underground system for serveral reasons.  First we have a well and although it is steady it may not provide enough pressure to run such a system.  Secondly.   the well is a the north side of the house, where there are no gardens, although there may be some if we ever get the deck built.  Most of the yard and all the gardens are on the south side of the house with rock ledge in between.  There is no path between the two except through the house, and even if we ran an additional set of lines through the crawl space on the ledge called our basement, there is no way we could bury the lines deep enough to be below frost depth. 

    The rock ledge issue is what keeps me from having a buried low pressure system as well.  I can’t bury anything.  I could set up a system, mostly on the surface, which I took down every fall and reinstalled every spring, but I would have to store it somewhere as well.  Perhaps the new storage room under the deck (which will not hold the pump) will work for that.  In the meantime I am still digging and putting in flower beds, and the regions to be watered are not connected or easily run off the one faucet we have. 

    So I hand water.  A sprinkler seems too wasteful.  Hand watering IS relaxing.  I can ruminate, I can listen to music, I can just let my mind wander.  But it takes time.  And it is HOT.

  • Pink and Purple

    Once upon a time I would have said I was not a pink kind of girl.  I thought I had "outgrown" that kind of thing.

    I was wrong.

    Pinks and Purples are definitely my thing.

    From purple cauliflower:

    Cauliflower_1

    To the varying shades of pink lilac and white in my garden:

    Cleome715

    Hydrangia7152

    Snapdragon715

    Snapdragon7152

    It is obvious that I am definitely a "pink kind of girl".  My husband is grateful that I don’t really like pink and purple decor in the house though.  My pinks are frivolous pinks, more for exuberant accents than for everyday practicality.

  • Local

    Summer Cauliflower in all its glorious colors:

    Cauliflower

    Unlike the purple green beans, purple cauliflower retains its color when cooked.  But one must be careful as it will share its pigment with anything it touches.

    We, surprisingly as it wasn’t planned, had a completely local dinner last night:

    Grilled veal chops, the veal from a farm about 45 minutes north of me.

    Tiny Steamed Japanese turnips with their greens, from Migliorelli farm just up the road.

    Cauliflower Salad with yogurt.  The cauliflower was grown at Mead Farm, about 15 miles north, purchased at the Rhinebeck Farmers Market and it was dressed with Sheep’s Milk Yogurt from Old Chatham Sheepherding Company, about 40 minutes north, in Old Chatham (of course).  Although I have often made a traditional Italian style cauliflower salad with olive oil, I wanted something lighter with the veal, the yogurt was wonderful, and the purple cauliflower dyed everything a light pink. 

    The vegetables were all from Dutchess County, the yogurt and meat were from neighboring Columbia County.  This is about as local as I get, and the food is all wonderful. 

    People tell me that grass-fed meat is an acquired taste but I am quite happy with it.  I certainly love the quality of the veal and lamb I have been getting, the taste is wonderful and I don’t have to worry about all the issues surrounding the commercial production of lamb and veal.  I like the beef also.  But some people have told me the lamb is too strong, and they don’t like the flavor of the beef.   I don’t know why it came so easily to me.  I remember when G and I were in Spain and at a local restaurant that specialized in grilled meats.  We both loved the steaks.  Perhaps this was because G spent his early childhood in Europe and I had that early exposure to grass feed beef when we lived in Spain.  Perhaps it is because my father usually ordered our meat, lamb, beef, and veal from local farmers and ranchers, ranchers who often range-fed their animals.   

    We recently had wonderful braised goat at Cafe Tamayo in Kingston.  The goat was acquired  from a farm in Saugerties.  The restaurant buys it directly from the farm.  I am not sure G is so fond of goat that he would want a whole or half goat, but there is a butcher shop near by that specializes in local range-fed meats so perhaps they can acquire it.  Or I could try the local Mexican markets.

  • Fashion Fabrics Wools

    The fabrics I ordered from the Fashion Fabrics Club  wool sale arrived today!  I was completely surprised; I had almost forgotten I had ordered them.

    The taupe wool is lovely:

    Taupebirdseye

    I had ordered it with some trepidation because taupes can be difficult.  True taupes are a great color (non-color??) for me, but often I see something described as taupe and it comes looking much to yellow.  This one is quite nice, has a lovely texture and a nice light spongy, crepey feel that will work very well for a versatile suit.  I really have no plans for it right now, the color and the price were right, and I can always use a good taupe wool.

    The other fabric I ordered was kind of a menswear plaid that I hoped to use for a dress.  Here is the fabric with the proposed pattern:

    Mensweardress

    The fabric is not quite what I hoped from the description and the online photo, but it is still nice.  I am not sure if I will like it for the dress, but I might, and the price is right.

    We’ll see.  As well you know, my plans for sewing seem to be way ahead of my actual sewing success of late.   It’s not that I haven’t planned and set aside time for sewing, I have.  And it’s not that I then fritter that time away doing other things either.   It just seems that no matter what plans I make of late, life gets in the way, things come up and my schedule is shot to …. well, you know where it shot to.

    Well, tomorrow is another day.

  • Corrections

    I went back and made some corrections to my post on broad shoulder alterations.  I had not been careful enough and it had been plaguing me, not that the techniques were wrong, but that I was not meticulous in my measurements.  The three new patterns, using three diffferent techniques, should have yielded the same results. 

    This error has been corrected and you can go directly to that post here.

  • Summer Lunch

    Chop some garlic with cracked red pepper flakes, fennel seed and salt:

    Tuscankale1

    Saute it with some blanched Tuscan Kale,a little olive oil and a little lemon juice, and you have a perfect lunch:

    Tuscankale2

  • Two Films

    We watched two movies over the extended weekend; two very different movies.

    Under the Tuscan Sun was rented mostly as a light romantic time-passer to knit by.  It fulfilled those expectations with its predictable, romantic comedy aspirations, stereotypical settings and story, and sappy expectations.  I knitted.  The movie was mildly entertaining, primarily because of Diane Lane, who rescued the film from groveling in a swamp of cliche.  Despite these words I enjoyed watching it, once. 

    G and I watched Munich last night.  This was a different kettle of fish, very thought provoking and disturbing film but not a great film.  Still we had to indulge in a glass of brandy and some light nonsense (HGTV) before toddling off to bed.  There have been far too many reviews for me to add anything here.  The movie was effective in getting one to at least think about Spielberg’s message.  The rather unsophisticated cinematography and lack of subtlety was probably more effective in getting one to think about what was going on that would be true in a more polished looking film.  At the same time, the lack of subtlety, was rather annoying in its insistence that you “get the message”.   

    Still, I enjoyed Munich, if one can truly say that one enjoys watching a movie that at times made one squirm.  But then I like watching things that make me think, even if they make me think about subjects I would prefer not to think about.

    Is violence, even justified violence, useless?  Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy!  Is everyone caught in a web from which there is no escape?  Probably true.  Is it avoidable?   Well, of this I am not so sure.  This seems to be one of the essential traps and flaws of human nature.