Oh, so lucky am I. The boy has been sick (much better now, so far so good) and I have been wealthy in friendship. Thank you, and you know who you are. Distraction, kind words and offers, and really wonderful ginger-honey syrup (for which I want the recipe) is doing us both good.

So now I sit, preparing for CampFire on Friday, at which time we will (I hope) explore some aspects of Chinese New Year. I am currently sucking down that most Chinese of beverages, lemon-echinacea throat coat herbal tea with a generous dosage of the aforementioned ginger-honey syrup. I’m not sick, and I don’t plan to be. I’ve just been doing a lot of reading aloud.

I find myself with wandering eyes… and oh, the loveliest things do tempt me! I’m currently reading a biography of Stephen Hawking (who has absolutely nothing to do with me, numerologically, astrologically, or otherwise, unfortunately–it’s such fun to draw those links, as he himself was born on the 300th anniversary of the death of Galileo, for example) which makes me want to know more physics; and then there is my usual late-night eye candy, M.F.K. Fisher’s The Art of Eating. It’s a compilation of several of her books. My favorite right now is How To Cook A Wolf, published in 1942, during a time of great shortages during war. The idea, of course, is that if the wolf is at the door… eat the wolf. Pages into semi-derogatory, semi-respectful lists of economies one might make to save food and fuel (baking: fill every inch of space in the oven to warrant the use of fuel; add bread crumbs to make scrambled eggs go further, etc.) she notes,

“Or you can roast some walnuts in their shells, and eat them while they are still pretty hot, with fresh cold apples and a glass of port if possible, for one of the desserts most conducive in this world to good conversation.” (p.203)


Recent daily makings:
Sunday: Worked on dressing the loom. Woo! Esme’s feeling neglected. Had to do some mental math to figure out how to redistribute warp from the long-as-the-5-Freeway warp to one a little more manageable.
Monday: Knit on boy’s sweater. Made up stories about Mrs. Chickadee and the downed tree, Mrs. Chickadee and the orphaned bird, Mrs. Chickadee’s birthday.
Tuesday: Made birthday gifts (watercolor-washed card and knitting bag with handspun) for a dear friend. Cut lavender and maraschino sage from the garden for our table. Knit on my sweater.
Wednesday: Wrote poems and illustrated them with Geeklet. Made candles together to celebrate Imbolc. Made Brigid’s fire out of beeswax. (Yes, I know Imbolc was yesterday and/or Monday but Boy was sick, remember?) Imagined that the cloud people had worked all day to create the lovely white clouds that covered our sky, but were opening them like arms to allow us a glimpse of our favorite stars–Orion’s belt and Betelgeuse, Sirius.


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