Table Mountain: Framed

I sold a photography print this week. It's been a few months since I've done any photo shows, so it was a nice change of pace from what I have been working on. I love what digital photography has done for our world -- no more film rolls! However, after looking at photos on the screen for so long, it is a wonderful treat to see one actually printed out and framed. 
 

 
The lady who ordered the print had previously purchased a smaller photo of one of my shots of Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa. The last time we were there, the Sailor and I went for a late afternoon stroll, and I took my small Sony point and shoot camera with me.  The light was amazing and I took several shots of the mountain and the sea. 
 

This one was one of my favorites.

Further down the beach on that same walk, I took this shot of a lonely boy fishing. 

Some of my all time favorite photos have been with small cameras. I love my Nikon d80, but sometimes less is more. It's unlikely I would have carried that big camera on our walk. The Sony, on the other hand, fit right in my pocket. The result? Table Mountain, framed and ready to hang on the wall.

Morning Brew

I'm trying to make more of an effort to eat my meals at the table when I'm home. I find that when the Sailor is gone, I inhale my breakfast over the sink while waiting for my coffee to brew, lunch at my computer, and then dinner on the sofa.

Maybe it's the start of Downton Abbey again, and all of those dinner scenes, but I've been reminded to take my time when eating... and that meal times themselves can be a delightful event, even when dining alone. 

In any case, the first meal of the day always starts with a steaming cup of coffee (breakfast was already consumed and cleared from the table at this point...) 

Happy Feet

Last night I finally finished these socks. 

This was the Happy Feet yarn I bought in Idaho, during the yarn haul. It was also the yarn I left in my checked bag on the way home, so I didn't get to start on the socks until later. 

And then when I did start them after the first leg of the road trip, they turned out too big because I used the new needles I also bought on the yarn haul. (Yes, I know I should have checked my gauge, but who does that with a sock?!) Besides, I've made this same sock pattern multiple times with worsted weight yarn. This was my first time using actual sock yarn, but it was from the same pattern book as the other socks I made (Patons Next Steps Four: Socks and Slippers if you must know). I figured since those socks fit perfectly following their directions and needle recommendations, so would these.

Wrong. 

I have big feet, but these were floppy enough to put over a set of skis. The one on the left is the first one I made. I know it doesn't look much different than the other one, but I can assure you, it didn't fit properly. Socks should hug your feet, and fit snug enough to keep your toes under wraps. They shouldn't flop off of your feet while you walk. Then I made the one on the right, two sizes smaller and on smaller needles. They fit wonderfully.

So I ripped out the first sock. 

And I proceeded to reknit it. Then I joined the ladies from my knitting club on Sunday at a local cafe to knit a bit. One lady saw the sock I had finished (the one that did fit me, mind you) and asked if it was for the Sailor. I told her it was for me. Bigfoot. 

Mid-way through my coffee, I noticed I had messed up on the instep count -- and had to rip out half the sock. Again.

Last night, I was determined to finally finish them. The socks themselves may not have traveled far yet, but the yarn sure had. Now though, the socks have finally found their home -- on my feet -- my now happy feet. 

Kitchen Disasters

Awhile back, after posting about this lovely orange marmalade cake, and my holiday soirée, I promised a soon-coming post on kitchen disasters. Well, here it is. 

Meet my kitchen. 

Meet the magic that sometimes occurs even with limited counter space.

(What you see above is the counter. All of it. Seriously.) 

 Now meet even more kitchen chaos:

 Including the cake that simply fell apart when I tried to move it:

(For the record, that was supposed to be a chocolate peanut butter marble cake -- but I'm going to guess the original recipe didn't use natural peanut butter like I did, which is probably what should have kept it together.)  

Then there's the ganache that was far too gooey to roll into truffles: 

And oh so many more dishes that never get photographed...

The bottom line? For every wonderful creation I make in the kitchen, there is often a kitchen disaster story to tell. It might be a ruined dinner, a cake that somehow didn't bake properly, or something as silly as a dropped egg. (My mom used to say that eggs make the same sound no matter which floor they drop on... I have dropped enough eggs in several kitchens to know she speaks the truth.) Usually that dropped egg is the last one I have on hand and necessary for the recipe.

Thankfully, the Sailor doesn't mind a disaster every now and again -- as long as we have pizza delivery on speed dial, charcoal for the BBQ, or a Five Guys within driving distance, we'll be okay. He has also encouraged me on more than one occasion by reminding me 'that's how we learn...' 

I have definitely learned a thing or two.

Years ago, I paid too much money for a little black book on basic cooking. I thought I could use some help in the basic area of cooking some days -- most days in fact. 

Sure, I could do a lot of basic things. Growing up, I always prided myself on being able to boil an egg -- that often seemed to be the standard by which people judged someone's cooking ability: "So and so can't even boil an egg."

But I'd never poached an egg before, and my omelettes sometimes turned to scrambled eggs. Ironically, my egg timer supervised this sauce-of-something-or-other that turned whatever cake I made into a dish nobody should have to taste. So awful was the cake, I've completely blocked out the name of it. I couldn't tell you what was actually bubbling below except for that lonely cinammon stick.  

Like that cake, this basic book was a major disappointment. You see -- it was almost too gourmet to be 'basic'. They used words like 'chiffonade' and 'poivrade sauce'. It had recipes for lobster bisque and snail butter -- foods I never actually wanted to eat, let alone create from scratch.

When I wanted to make some simple scalloped potatoes, I searched high and low in this book for the recipe. I just wanted to know the cooking time and temperature. The book contained more than half a dozen potato recipes but nothing for scalloped spuds. (I eventually found the recipe in that old wartime cookbook...) 

Yet even though I keep wanting to just get rid of this book, something stops me every time I put it in the 'giveaway' pile. I think it's because I need to just try something 'basic' out of it -- even if I can't pronounce it -- even if it might be a flop.

Tonight, when I picked the book back up and flipped through it, I saw the instructions for how to poach an egg. 

I suddenly realized that after all of these years, I have still never tried to make poached eggs before. They are pretty basic, after all.

Perhaps it's time. I think my little kitchen can handle it -- as long as I don't drop the eggs on the floor first. 

If I master that, maybe I can work my way up to snail butter. I've discovered there are no snails actually in the butter -- just garlic, parsley and shallots.  

And when all else fails, I know I can still boil an egg. I can also make oatmeal like a champ. I'm also convinced that anything tastes better in Pyrex. Read more here at the Pyrex Collective III about my hunt for cereal bowls.  

Hope for Spring

Remember when I said the post-holiday winter months sometimes still need some extra sparkle?

Well apparently it's supposed to feel a little like spring here this weekend -- 

at least for a few minutes.

My sparkly snowman may already be obsolete.  

Not that I'm complaining. I could always use some extra sunshine in my life.

It's usually the favorite part of my day -- the moments when the sun streams through the windows, shadows dancing on the walls. Sometimes I'm so busy I don't even notice -- but lately I've tried to make more of an effort to stop whatever I'm doing and simply observe.

I like to think of these above-average temperature days as a little glimpse into the future. Spring may still be a long way off, but for a few fleeting moments, I can actually picture leaves on the barren trees.

Hope shining through.