Must not miss before we go :

Luray Caverns: The middle of July when it’s intolerably hot seems like the perfect time to visit cool and beautiful underground caverns.  We’re going this weekend.  Can’t wait!

The National Museum of the American Indian:  Steven was not especially thrilled about this one, so I think I’ll go by myself one day.

The National Museum of American History: It really would be a shame if I missed out on the National Quilt Collection and Julia Child’s kitchen.  Steven has already been, so I’m adding this to the solo trip list.

The National Museum of Natural History: Both this and the American History Museum were under renovation when we moved here.  They’ve been finished for years, but it’s been a while since I’ve screwed up my courage for a round of museum visits.

Must squeeze in one more visit before we move far, far away:

The United States Botanic Garden: Botanic looks really weird to me, but that’s the way they spell it so I guess they know what they’re doing.  Steven took me here for part of our anniversary this last year, and I fell in love.  The place makes my heart sing for joy.  I have vowed to go back, this time armed with a sketch book.  They have a whole room of orchids.  Well, room is not the right word.  Atrium?  It’s huge.  And like many things in the DC area, it is free.

Speaking of free, one thing I learned while living here is that the fact that all the Smithsonians are free makes me take them for granted.

There’s no excuse for taking things for granted.  Every little hometown in the world has undiscovered  delights, forgotten by locals who shake their heads in confusion at the tourists.  In Indiana we called them the lakers–people who spent winters in Florida, Texas, Arizona, California; but spent their summers on our local lakes.  Lakes we could visit whenever we wanted and therefore did not.

Let’s you and I make a deal.  Be a local tourist with me.  One person’s boring home town is another person’s vacation destination.  Our homes are what we make of them, as are our lives.  If you constantly tell yourself that yours are both boring, well…  you’ll get exactly what you expect.

Life is too short for boring.

Please feel free to leave me other DC-area tourist suggestions.  I’ve only been here four-ish years.  I’m sure I’ve not thought of them all.

2.  The patchwork pattern generator.  Create a quilt pattern from a photograph.  I think this would be perfect with an artsy close-up, or a scenic vista.

3.  A way to make magnets from beer bottle caps without making, well, beer bottle cap magnets.  From How About Orange.  These are so cute, and the possibilities are endless.  I know that ayone can make these, but I was thinking of making a few sets with themes from third-world nations and selling them in my etsy shop, then using the proceeds to fund Kiva loans to those nations.  Is that cool and interesting or too confusing??  Sometimes I lose my perspective.

4.  Attic 24′s Granny Stripe Blanket.  Oh, people…  crochet hasn’t screamed at me like this for quite some time.  It’s the perfect combination of colorful (which Lucy always does so excellently over at the Attic), vintage crochet kitsch, and modern stripey goodness.  Oh, how I love it!  It’s too bad I’m on a strict yarn-purchasing moratorium, because I would be winging it right to the big-box craft store for 15+ colors of yarn.

5.  I love this idea of covering something with coffee sacks from Ikea Hacker.  I have a coffee sack I have been dragging my feet about throwing away (I’ve had it for years), but maybe I can repurpose it for something like this.  Not this exactly, since we don’t currently own any furniture to speak of, but something in this vein.  Okay, so maybe this idea could use some work.

So Friday I screwed up my courage, and started going through the YC.  (Honestly, it’s not that bad.  I don’t know what he was making such a big deal about.  I don’t have a problem.  Really.)

It’s not just yarn in there, I’m something of an equal opportunity crafter–I’ll give anything a shot.  Couple that with my seeming inability to walk away from a Good Deal, and I’m what some (cough–Jamie) might call a Straight Up Hoarder.

And so it was that I came across this fabric that I bought at Ikea over a year ago.  I got, as you may have guessed, a Good Deal on it–$1.49 a yard.  The problem is, I don’t really like it.  Don’t look at me like that, people.  Who among you has not purchased something you later determined to be ugly while under the influence of a Good Deal?  If the colors rotated, I think I would like it a lot better.  As it stands, I think it’s something of a lazy design.  (I know…  not Ikea!)

So I played with it a bit, deciding if I could be brave and just donate it so it would be Someone Else’s Problem, and inspiration struck!  I broke out the rotary cutter, cut all the fabric into 3′ strips about as long as our King size comforter.  (I layed the fabric out to eyeball it on the bed while Steven was in it.  He was nonplussed.  He’s used to these bouts of insanity. I don’t know whether I should be happy or ashamed.  No I did not technically measure it.  There was no time for that!)

I layed them out on the bed in what I hoped would be an intentionally random pattern, then stacked them and got busy with the sewing machine.  And that is pretty much what I’ve been doing non-stop for the past 48 hours, with brief interruptions for church, a baby shower, and a BBQ with some friends.  But I’m telling you, friends.  It’s all I can think about.

If you don’t hear from me in week or so, promise me you’ll notify the proper authorities?

“This is an intervention.  Less sewing, more petting.”

We made a deposit yesterday on a coach.  A 36′ Fleetwood Fiesta 34b, to be precise.  Bigger, newer, and more costly than we had envisioned our new home on wheels would be.

I’ve got feelings to tell.

I feel so blessed and surprised by the trajectory we’ve traveled over the past weeks.  I feel nervous and excited.  I’m sad to leave this place and these people here in this town I sort of love.  But, mostly?   I feel so settled, calm, quiet, ready.

It seems that pulling up our roots has eft me feeling grounded, which is…  ironic.

Now you’re supposed to say, “Thank you for sharing your feelings.”  But I lean more toward the freedom side of the spectrum, so I won’t mind if you don’t–you rebel.

Steven snagged tickets to watch the fireworks from the South Lawn of the White House.  (I’m not sure if South Lawn is a Proper Noun, so…  better safe than sorry.)  We didn’t realize that it would be a fully catered USO event with a complimentary concert but it was, and it was pretty awesome.

We sat just a few rows back from the White House, so when Mr. and Mrs. Obama came out, we had a great view.

The President recognized members of ever branch of service who have served admirably in the past year.  I can’t remember what all of them did, but the female Coast Guard officer who captained the first relief vessel to Haiti after the earthquake is the one in the navy polo–just to the right of the right-center pillar.  The woman standing just to the President’s right (turquoise and white) had a family member in the audience who was on the phone through the entire speech, saying lots of words to the effect of “OMG she is standing RIGHT BESIDE HIM.”  You would think if he was that excited, he would have been more respectful than to be talking loudly on his cell phone the whole time, but what do I know?

You know that game where you pause the TV to catch a beautiful person looking really ugly?  No?  Only me?  Okay then….  well all of our photos of Michelle look like that.  This is probably the least embarrassing.  She has sick arms though, even in person.  Yep, those are arms to strive for. Oh, here’s a more flattering one:

After the speech, they both came down to shake hands and greet people.  We didn’t muscle up there because, well it didn’t really seem fair.  More about that later.

After the Secret Service saved them from the cameras and handshakes, We got to chill around the White House grounds for a while.  We the new basketball court.  It was locked.

There was an open bar–beer and wine.  Steven was pretty thrilled about that.

“Danica, take a picture of me drinking beer on the White House lawn!  Just having a beer in the President’ s back yard.”  Doesn’t take much to make him happy.  I love that about him. And I’m no one to talk.  “Steven, take a picture of me knitting on the White House lawn!”

As it started to get dark, we were treated to some performances.  Cedric the Entertainer has never really done anything for me, but to each his own.

Brandi Carlile sings The Story.  I kinda love her.  Seriously.  Go download the album if you haven’t.  You won’t be sorry.  She was so sweet, and seemed genuinely happy to be performing for servicemembers and their families.

And finally, The Killers.  They were fantastic live.  not so sure about the advisability of these pants, though.

After all that, the fireworks were almost a letdown.  It was a great night…  one I won’t ever forget.  Thanks, USO.  You really know how to throw a party!

So that was our Saturday.  Three days later we met the President of the United States in the Oval office.  I’m really not making this up…  and in about three weeks I will have the photo to prove it.  It’s probably going to be awful though.  Word of advice: wearing panty hose in 100+ temps is never worth it.  No matter how important the person you’re being introduced to may be.

Anyway, in November I bought a 1300 yard skein of laceweight merino-silk from Black Cat Fibers.  It was so luscious and the colors so beautifully tonal that I decided to wind it by hand into a center-pull ball so I could experience every single yard.  Husband patiently held the hank while I wound…  and wound and wound. 

You may already see where this is going, but I’ll just stop here for the inevitable PSA:  If you have never wound a center-pull ball by hand before, maybe your first try shouldn’t be on a 1,300 yard laceweight skein.  This happens:

My mistake, I now realize, was not leaving a large enough gap in the middle of the ball for the yarn to relax into. 

Last weekend I sat down with the sad ball of yarn, and slowly picked out all the knots.  It was tedious and slow, but I made it, and now it looks like this:

And hopefully, it will someday become this:

And I hope you are happy, because going to the trouble of linking you all to the Black Cat Fibers page made me realize how desperately I would like to own this.

Last night I made a soup that combined several of my favorite things: dry beans, meat free meals, and the slow cooker.  It was delicious, and you should try it.  So without further ado:

Crockpot Bean Soup

Servings:  Lots.  Makes about 3 quarts of soup.

Ingredients:

1 pound dry beans.  Navy beans were in my pantry, but this would be great for any white bean.

2 Tbsp olive oil

3 medium onions, chopped–divided

3-4 cloves of garlic, pressed

2 medium carrots, chopped

1 bunch of spinach or kale.  Kale would have been my preference, but spinach was available and it worked just fine.

5 cups of low sodium chicken broth (vegetarians will obviously make a substitution here)

1 (14.5 ounce) can of diced Italian tomatoes

1Tbsp poutry seasoning OR 1 tsp each of sage, thyme, and oregano

Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Soak the beans overnight, or according to package instructions.

First thing in the morning, sautee 2 of the onions, the garlic, and carrots in olive oil until the onions begin to turn transluscent.

While the veggies are cooking, drain and rinse the pre-soaked beans, then put them in the slow cooker.

Toss in the sauteed vegetables, then the spices and broth.  Hold off on the salt and pepper for now.  Turn the cooker on low.

After work, or 8-9 hours later, add in the can of tomatoes, undrained.  It’s important that you wait to do this until the beans are fully cooked.  Otherwise the chemical makeup of the tomatoes will prevent the beans from softening.  (Don’t make me go all Food Geek on you.  Just trust me.  I have science and I know how to use it.)

Sautee the remaining chopped onion in olive oil until transluscent.  Add in the spinach and sautee to your desired wiltiness.  (Is wiltiness a word?)  I like mine just barely wilted, but I understand that it’s a matter of personal preference.

Stir in the wilted spinach and serve.  This was a very satisfying meal for me, but the meativore I live with ate a turkey sandwich on the side.

Let me know if you try it, and how you personalize it.

PS:  The inspiration for this recipe came from SavingDinner.com, a site that sends out email menus and grocery lists.  You have to pay for the menus, which I do not.  I have seen the sample menus, though, and I think it could be a really good resource for a family.  If you’re tired of deciding what to make for dinner, you should check it out.  I plan to try her Quinoa Salad recipe very soon.

My friends, here you see 7 glorious patterns for perfectly reasonable people to use to sew perfectly reasonable BONNETS for their DOGS.  Yes, bonnets. 

We have patterns like this to thank for the funny looks we get when people find out about our hobbies. 

If you hurry, you might be able to make the end of the ebay auction.  There are currently no bids, but you know how those lurkers can be–ruthless!

Like the Yarn Closet.  (Not to be confused with the Yarn Harlot.)  It’s my bottomless pit of yarn, fabric, and other odds and ends I have set aside for future creative endeavors. 

I frequently think about ideas for organizing it, beautifying it, making it look like a real room.  But when I go in there I get overwhelmed, not inspired.  So I mostly just throw things in there and shut the door quickly for my own protection.

Another thing that piles up is not blogging. 

It’s a bit like a very good friend you always mean to call.  You love the person so much, but you don’t get a chance to call very often so you want to wait until you have a good chunk of time to set aside to catch up.  The longer you wait, the more you have to talk about.  It’s a vicious cycle. 

The moral of the story is that there’s not perfect time.  For anything. 

So hello, friend.  It’s good to talk to you again.  Let’s do this more often.

A nearly finished, nearly perfect, seamless hybrid sweater.

All it’s waiting for is a collar to be ripped back to here:

You may be wondering why.

It is, after, all, a pretty good looking sweater.  The fit is nearly perfect.  It’s just the slightest bit too short.  I try to share more successes than failures here, but this one is so epic…  the tale must be told.

And that is the ruthless quality of knitting.  Make one little mistake in measuring an armscye, and it’s all over.  You might ask: do I REALLY have to rip it out?  Well, what would be better: to do all this work for a sweater that would be finished and would look just lovely folded in my husband’s dresser, or to spend an extra day or two fixing it so that it will become a sweater that he will wear until he wears it out?  The second one, of course.  All that will not be worth it if he can’t wear the thing.  That’s the whole point.

I took a brief break to knit this little bunny friend (who is about to relocate to an overseas locale…  more on that later.)

Now, on to the ripping.  Now, what did I do with that Weezer CD?