I have been really digging this blog of late.

The things she makes are astonishingly creative, and she writes, in Japanese AND English no less, so very sweetly. I particularly like the way she unwittingly called out a knit mag she did work for on one of those lame puns magazine editors seem to be so fond of.

This in particular blows my mind. Apparently they just sent her a t-shirt and she just went about her business. Simple and ingenious.

In other crafty news. I have picked up my Moby Dick again. Not this dick Moby. This one.

I bought the yarn for this three years ago, full of piss and vinegar, and having never tackled a fancy “pattern” before. I didn’t really grasp that i would have to knit the whole bloody thing on size one needles, then go through and do a french knot on each little pearl bump. I slaved my way through the back and one sleeve, but it has since lain alone and cold in a zip-lock bag at the bottom of my incomplete project box. I almost finished another sleeve this week when I realised that I had used the wrong sized needles. So. Frustrating. I felt like gouging my eyes out with those stupid little needles.

This is what lay outside my door this morning. This is not a black and white picture. This is a very very grey day.

A good day for curling up under a blanket with a hot toddy and reading nothing more challenging than a Miss Marple mystery perhaps. I am on holiday after all. But twas not to be. Too much to do.

(more…)

Here is a jacket I finished at the beginning of winter.

Made from a chunky wool/alpaca blend, it’s very warm, but also, makes me look like the very hungry caterpillar once he wasn’t so hungry anymore. Them’s the breaks with those chunky knits though i suppose. Kat was discussing the chunk factor recently, and to add my bit; my boss tried it on the other day, and though she is around the same size as me, she looked half my size in it. Thus I deduce that broad shoulders, and small boobs (neither of which i possess) are most suitable for chunk.

I took the pattern from a cute Japanese craft book, but had a lot of trouble understanding the instructions. So, most of it was just winging it. There isn’t too much risk with something that chunky. Also, i changed the recommended wool which was cheap (yay!) but very scratchy (boo).

Well, i had some good handicat action to share with you guys today, but my SD card decided to eat it all up. Piece of crap.

So, instead, I will share my Sunday night recipe with you. I was craving fish and chips and beer, but when we got to the supermarket, they were having a big sale on scallops. Usually, i would eat them raw with just a squeeze of lemon, or chuck them quickly in the frypan with some butter and parsley, but I already had my heart set on dirty greasy fish and chips, so i covered them in beer and flour. Sacrilege, I know.

Beer Battered Scallops with Homemade Chips and Tartare Sauce

Fish.

Mix half a can of beer with 1 cup of flour and your choice of seasonings. Dust your fish or scallops with cornflour then dunk them in the batter and fry in a couple glugs worth of olive oil. Put on a paper towel to drain.

Chips.

Before you cook the fish, wash and scrub potatoes, and cut into finger sized pieces. Parboil them, then toss with salt, pepper and olive oil and oven roast until nice and crispy.

Tartare Sauce.

Mix one cup of mayonnaise up with some chopped pickle. I used about 4 tablespoons worth, but adjust to your taste. Throw some capers in, about half a small onion, very finely diced, a handful of chopped parsley and lemon juice and seasonings to taste. Voila!

This is very rich, so you will need to wash it down with lots of beer.

Well Rio is home.

As expected, the first time I saw him i collapsed in a big salty puddle, but the vets were consideration itself and left us alone with him in the consultation room with a buzzer to call them once we had composed ourselves. 9 days later (too long!) we were able to pick him up and it looks much better, the fur has grown back a little, and it has made all the difference.

I was off sick from work when they called for me to pick him up. I changed out of my pyjamas, into an outfit that was as close to pyjamas as is socially acceptable, and decided against showering, removing the mascara under my eyes or looking in the mirror. So of course as I strode into the vets, with my greasy hair plastered against my face, they asked if they could film us for Japanese television.

The only time I could pick him up was late afternoon, which meant that I too had to brave the hideous Marunouchi Line crush. Jess and I now have matching blood-spurting wounds. He howled like a grieving old woman, and thrashed possessed inside the bag, gnawing frantically at the sides of the bag. None of the other commuters came even close to cracking a smile, they just pressed their eyes shut a bit harder. He then weed all over me and pooed inside the bag. Nothing like the stench of cat piss to endear you to your fellow commuters. A kind young guy gave me a seat and he calmed down a little after that. A little girl in a pea-coat and her grandma got on next to me, and the little girl couldn’t stop giggling every time he let out a low gurgling reow. Her grandmother tried to stop her laughing, but it was beyond her powers. I opened the flap to show her the cat, and he was pressing his contorted face hard against the netting with a little bit of fang and claw hanging out. She enthusiastically told me he was kawaii, which i thought was a generous assessment.

a blurry picture, but how cute is his face squooshed up by the bandage?

The wound.

Close up

“freak accident” or evil after all?