Monthly Archives: October 2008

Knitters for Obama

Via Whip Up, I saw this post with knitting patterns featuring Barak Obama.

I wish I had a small dog, so I could knit the Bark Obama sweater for it.
bark  obama

I don’t think I can knit fast enough to get this done in time.
Obama sweater

I’ll have to settle for some fingerless gloves [pattern here]
Obama knit gloves

I tried looking for McCain-inspired knit patterns, but came up short. The only hit of interest was the Spock Ears.
knit spock ears

What you need if you have a cold.

I met my friend Noah’s girlfriend last night. I thought, at the very least, she would be boring but cute. At best she would be awesome like Noah. He got with a neato girl in AmeriCorps, so I figured the worst it would be was that she was vapid and cuter than me.

Wrong.

I’m going to tell you this, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. OK?

I lied. I lied my way out of playing boardgames with them, as eating pizza with them was much much more than I could bear.

I feel a little bit awful about faking a stomachache, but I cannot stress enough how amazingly, jawdroppingly, caricature-like awful she was.

We came in the front door and she berated Noah for bringing us in at such an inopportune time. She had just been sitting down to pee, she told us, and she didn’t have a shirt on yet.

I figured she was nervous about meeting one of Noah’s old AmeriCorps friends. I figured she’s warm up, and we’d have a lovely evening of wheat crust pizza and Trivial Pursuit.

She announced that her house rule was that one must lower the toilet lid before washing hands, “because I’m a bit of a germophobe.”

I managed, during this time between rants, to introduce myself and Jason.

Before we could order the pizza, she had to explain all the foods she wasn’t supposed to have because of her (deep breath) asthma, acid reflux, and irritable bowel syndrome. She explained how each of them aggravated the others, and then ruled 80% of the toppings off the list. “I’m not supposed to each cheese either,” she added. “Oh, and I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

After determining that we could order two different pizzas so Jason and I weren’t subjected to her dietary restrictions, she continued telling us about how she can eat cooked onions but not raw ones, and how her IBS is affected by the amount of spicy food she eats.

This went on until the pizza arrived. As we sat down to eat, I was at a loss of conversation. This is a rarity for me, and I was a bit puzzled. Jason had already shut down, and was keeping himself busy studying the pizza in his hand.

I asked if they had watched the last season of “The Surreal Life”, because Noah had mentioned it, and I thought perhaps I could get her onto a more normal topic. Yeah, it didn’t work.

The most pleasant part of the night was when we got on the topic of CostCo. She and Noah listed the things they had bought, and we nodded enthusiastically, because we were hoping she wouldn’t go back to her dying cat stories. “Mac and cheese? A gallon of jalapenos? Really?”

Her monologue shifted to her workplace. She bitched about how everyone was stupid and she had to tell them how to do their work. She bitched about how the new people were all men, and they were all already promoted to her level. Then she bitched about how no one goes to lunch with her anymore.

I bit my tongue. Jason and I looked at each other. I made a decision. I slumped down in my chair.

See, I haven’t been a pathological liar since childhood. I didn’t lie about important things, or to hurt anyone – I just lied to see if I could weave a truth close enough to reality to be imperceptible.

Anyway, they asked what kind of board game we wanted to play. I explained that I wasn’t feeling well, as weakly shrugged my shoulders and pulled my hands inside my hoodie’s sleeves. “All this roadripping is catching up to me,” I offered as bait. “I think it was eating gas station food for four day, but I just have a bit of an upset stomach. I think it will go away if I can just sleep.”

Jason caught on. “You must be feeling like Silva and I did after breakfast this morning – you’ll feel better later.” Good, good. Nothing worth noting, but uncomfortable enough to leave quickly.

Noah’s girlfriend, in a hypochondriacic frenzy, offered me about fifteen different drugs for my fake ailment. The pièce de résistance was when she offered ibuprofen. I took it, sealing the “nobody suspects that I hate you” act.

I rested with my head in my arms on the table as she blathered for a little while longer. We only had to spend about 15 more minutes before we were ready to leave.

I can’t imagine how I would have made it through playing Trivial Pursuit with her.

I half expected Noah to mention something in the car on the way home (he drove us). “Yeah, she had a REAL rough day at work”, or “that was her evil twin sister.”

In reality, the car ride was nearly silent. I wanted to shout “You fucker, what are you doing? Do you realize that I hate your girlfriend in a way that is almost comedic?! I had to LIE because I didn’t want to be around her! That’s really not normal!”

Noah dropped us off. I gave him the monster I had knitted him (pictures to follow), and he left. As soon as he was gone, Jason and I burst into an instant debriefing. Luckily, Charles and Silva were there to bear witness to our fervor.

“The part where she described the scarring on her esophagus, duodenum, and stomach lining from heartburn!?

“Her complaining about our poorly timed entrance! She knew we were coming! She didn’t have to say anything!”

“I was so glad when you said you were sick!”

I’ve never felt like I was in a formula comedy sketch before. This was like the old “Oh my gosh, honey, I forgot to turn off the stove at home!” “Oh yes, dear, we’d better get going … heh heh.”

Anyway, these situations do happen, and when they do, the best thing to do is to say “Would you excuse me? I cut my foot before and my shoe is filling up with blood.” Then limp away.



Pass the rhino,
originally uploaded by sundaykofax.

Tim and I started hurling the rhino at each other. He has a pretty
good arm.

By that, I mean a friend who brings you exactly what you need.

Pass the rhino

I met my friend Noah’s girlfriend last night. I thought, at the very least, she would be boring but cute. At best she would be awesome like Noah. He got with a neato girl in AmeriCorps, so I figured the worst it would be was that she was vapid and cuter than me.

Wrong.

I’m going to tell you this, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. OK?

I lied. I lied my way out of playing boardgames with them, as eating pizza with them was much much more than I could bear.

I feel a little bit awful about faking a stomachache, but I cannot stress enough how amazingly, jawdroppingly, caricature-like awful she was.

We came in the front door and she berated Noah for bringing us in at such an inopportune time. She had just been sitting down to pee, she told us, and she didn’t have a shirt on yet.

I figured she was nervous about meeting one of Noah’s old AmeriCorps friends. I figured she’s warm up, and we’d have a lovely evening of wheat crust pizza and Trivial Pursuit.

She announced that her house rule was that one must lower the toilet lid before washing hands, “because I’m a bit of a germophobe.”

I managed, during this time between rants, to introduce myself and Jason.

Before we could order the pizza, she had to explain all the foods she wasn’t supposed to have because of her (deep breath) asthma, acid reflux, and irritable bowel syndrome. She explained how each of them aggravated the others, and then ruled 80% of the toppings off the list. “I’m not supposed to each cheese either,” she added. “Oh, and I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

After determining that we could order two different pizzas so Jason and I weren’t subjected to her dietary restrictions, she continued telling us about how she can eat cooked onions but not raw ones, and how her IBS is affected by the amount of spicy food she eats.

This went on until the pizza arrived. As we sat down to eat, I was at a loss of conversation. This is a rarity for me, and I was a bit puzzled. Jason had already shut down, and was keeping himself busy studying the pizza in his hand.

I asked if they had watched the last season of “The Surreal Life”, because Noah had mentioned it, and I thought perhaps I could get her onto a more normal topic. Yeah, it didn’t work.

The most pleasant part of the night was when we got on the topic of CostCo. She and Noah listed the things they had bought, and we nodded enthusiastically, because we were hoping she wouldn’t go back to her dying cat stories. “Mac and cheese? A gallon of jalapenos? Really?”

Her monologue shifted to her workplace. She bitched about how everyone was stupid and she had to tell them how to do their work. She bitched about how the new people were all men, and they were all already promoted to her level. Then she bitched about how no one goes to lunch with her anymore.

I bit my tongue. Jason and I looked at each other. I made a decision. I slumped down in my chair.

See, I haven’t been a pathological liar since childhood. I didn’t lie about important things, or to hurt anyone – I just lied to see if I could weave a truth close enough to reality to be imperceptible.

Anyway, they asked what kind of board game we wanted to play. I explained that I wasn’t feeling well, as weakly shrugged my shoulders and pulled my hands inside my hoodie’s sleeves. “All this roadripping is catching up to me,” I offered as bait. “I think it was eating gas station food for four day, but I just have a bit of an upset stomach. I think it will go away if I can just sleep.”

Jason caught on. “You must be feeling like Silva and I did after breakfast this morning – you’ll feel better later.” Good, good. Nothing worth noting, but uncomfortable enough to leave quickly.

Noah’s girlfriend, in a hypochondriacic frenzy, offered me about fifteen different drugs for my fake ailment. The pièce de résistance was when she offered ibuprofen. I took it, sealing the “nobody suspects that I hate you” act.

I rested with my head in my arms on the table as she blathered for a little while longer. We only had to spend about 15 more minutes before we were ready to leave.

I can’t imagine how I would have made it through playing Trivial Pursuit with her.

I half expected Noah to mention something in the car on the way home (he drove us). “Yeah, she had a REAL rough day at work”, or “that was her evil twin sister.”

In reality, the car ride was nearly silent. I wanted to shout “You fucker, what are you doing? Do you realize that I hate your girlfriend in a way that is almost comedic?! I had to LIE because I didn’t want to be around her! That’s really not normal!”

Noah dropped us off. I gave him the monster I had knitted him (pictures to follow), and he left. As soon as he was gone, Jason and I burst into an instant debriefing. Luckily, Charles and Silva were there to bear witness to our fervor.

“The part where she described the scarring on her esophagus, duodenum, and stomach lining from heartburn!?

“Her complaining about our poorly timed entrance! She knew we were coming! She didn’t have to say anything!”

“I was so glad when you said you were sick!”

I’ve never felt like I was in a formula comedy sketch before. This was like the old “Oh my gosh, honey, I forgot to turn off the stove at home!” “Oh yes, dear, we’d better get going … heh heh.”

Anyway, these situations do happen, and when they do, the best thing to do is to say “Would you excuse me? I cut my foot before and my shoe is filling up with blood.” Then limp away.



Pass the rhino,
originally uploaded by sundaykofax.

Tim and I started hurling the rhino at each other. He has a pretty
good arm.

Famous for my cake wreck spotting

Abby introduced me to Cake Wrecks, which is the Go Fug Yourself of cake design. (Wow, that’s niché, isn’t it?)

A few weeks ago, I went to an All Tomorrows Parties music festival near Monticello, NY. While at the grocery store there, I spotted a wreck of a cupcake. Being the dutiful documenter that I am, I snapped a picture, and sent it in. Who can resist the mocking of a porn-‘stache-wearing, cookie-choked Cookie Monster?

And so, I have made it onto Cake Wrecks. Huzzah. Now, on to my next goal: Cute Overload. I need to take one million more pictures of my cat.

At D’Parma



At D’Parma, originally uploaded by sundaykofax.

Today we lazed around recouperating from the face flu (as opposed to
the stomach or butt flu). Now we’re enjoying a late lunch. It’s not
that the flu made Jason’s head any larger, he’s just drinking espresso.

What’s this, what’s this?



What’s this, what’s this?, originally uploaded by sundaykofax.

It’s the first set of fingerless gloves of the season, started in
Detroit. Why am I knitting in Detroit? My plane is broken, and I’m
waiting for the new plane to be ready. Ho hum.

At least it’s more fodder for Helpful Paws.

Meatless meat pie

Meatless meat pie

All families, I think, have those meals that are quintessential. For my family, one of those meals is meat pie. It’s a leftover-made meal, made from last night’s beef roast and potatoes.

When my sister had her baby she requested it as a meal I made for her, and this version was a vegetarian, from-scratch, need-to-make-gravy version. I roasted vegetables, and made the pastry crust. Then I made a roux with miso paste.

Since my sis was off onions and garlic (sulphur = gassy baby), I was worried that it would be bland. Luckily, our family’s recipe IS bland, so it tasted juuuuust right.

Savory Meat Pie

Make the crust a few hours or the night beforehand:
Sift together 1 c. flour, 1 T. sugar, 1.2 tsp. salt. Cut in 6 T. butter. Mix 1 egg yolk, 1 1/2 T. lemon juice, 1 T. water. Blend into dry ingredients. Dough will be soft. Chill. Roll out on lightly floured board.

Make the filling:
Saute in hot fat…
1/4 c. chopped onion
2 T. chopped green pepper

Combine in 2 qt. baking dish with…
2 c. diced cooked meat (beef, lamb, veal from leftover roast)
2 c. diced cooked vegetables (fresh or leftover, such as carrots, celery, peas, corn, turnips, parsnips)
1 1/2 to 2 c. well seasoned gravy thinned with milk or stock

Heat in hot oven (425 degrees) for 15 min. Take out, and cover with pastry crust. Have mixture hot when topping goes on to insure a thoroughly baked top crust. Cut slits in top for steam to escape. Bake until golden brown (20 min?).

Temp: 425
Time: Bake about 20 min.
Amount: 6 servings

Day 17



Day 17, originally uploaded by sundaykofax.

Today, Felix is 17 days old. I slept all through the night, so I don’t
know if he kept my sister up all night.

I’m back at the Java Hut, for some workity workity before a grocery
run and then Felix’s first trip to the farm. I wonder if he’ll want to
pick apples and pet the cows.

Babyville, Iowa

Sonya in Iowa City

I’m at the Java Hut in downtown Iowa City, working. I worked a little this afternoon, but mostly spent time with my sister and her new baby Felix. He’s so so so tiny (16-days-old tiny). I don’t know that I’ve seen such a tiny baby in a long time. Maybe since my brother and sister came home from the hospital, which was nearly 26 years ago.

My sister isn’t big on photos being on the internet, so I’m respecting her wishes. I do plan on asking her if once we take a really nice portrait, she’ll let me post it. She may say no, so don’t get your hopes up, internet friends.