Making Conversation

Work: "Hi! How are you? Hope you're feeling better. Just to let you know, we're implementing some new anti-fraud measurements. So, HR needs to know where you were working between October 2006 and February 2007?"

Me: "Er, I was working for you guys.."

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A few completely unrelated and random links:

+ Is this cake scary or awesome? I just cannot decide.
+ I had a long conversation about the Theremin the other day.
+ Renewable clothing by Fernando Brízio. Art or not?
+ This page makes me so, so happy. I'm clearly weird.
+ Doctor Who: I Love the World. Heavy spoilers for Season 4, so beware.

And, yes, Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is up and running.

Back To Books

I may have injured my wrist through too much knitting. Yes. Really. I'm going to see my doctor tomorrow for my usual 'why do I keep keeling over, Doctor McKay?' thing and might just ask him about my poor overworked wrists. I suspect the answer may be to lay off with the knitting for some time. At least that will give me time to finish various reads.

I'm currently halfway through Iain Pears' An Instance of the Fingerpost which reads like a mix between early Julian Barnes and Umberto Eco with a dash of classic whodunnit. David gave up on the book after about 200 pages but I find myself enjoying its slow pace, Pears' knowledge of 17th century science (unlike, say, Ross King whose Ex Libris was so, so, so inaccurate that it nearly made me cry) and the novel's multi-narrative structure. My partner bought Pears' The Immaculate Deception from Oxfam Books yesterday. It looks to be a light read, though. I might keep that for winter. I tend towards light books during the dark months.

Also on the backburner: Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping. Back when I was in the process of moving countries, I read her Gilead. It floored me with its precise language, its exploration of 'home' and 'family' and the slow, deliberate move towards its dénouement. At that point of time, I was living out of a suitcase whilst spending nights on friends' sofas. I was susceptible to Gilead, in other words. Robinson's Housekeeping is bleaker and I cannot quite muster the calmness that her novel demands. I still adore her way of using language though.

And then there are the books which have suffered. Maps For Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam and Old Men In Love by my beloved Alasdair Gray (signed 1st Ed - I should scan the dedication). They're on my bedside table and deserve far more attention.

If everything else fails, of course, there's always my growing stack of knitting books..

In Which I Quote A 70s Icon

I never thought I'd quote Peter Frampton, buffon'd singer of the '70s, but in the words of the man who made one of the best selling live albums of all time and wrote the winner of Eurovision 2008*, oh baby, baby it's a small world.

I'm surfing Ravelry when I come across a pattern by Slagt En Hellig Ko who's cool with /many who's cool with Mr Palnatoke who's one of my dearest friends.

Oh baby, baby, it's a small world.

(* okay, just listen to the song and don't tell me it's not a variation upon Mr Frampton's best-known song?)

What Do You Mean By "It's Only July"?

The first family request for a Christmas wish list usually pops up about a month after my birthday. I'm a February child. Lately I've found myself asking my Other Half what he wants for his birthday. His birthday is in November. I suppose we all try to be different from our parents and none of us succeed.

But I usually hate writing wish lists whether they be for my birthday or for Christmas. Last year was a classic case of Ms Bookish trying desperately to think of things that could easily be sent by mail, was difficult to confuse with anything else* and that would not just gather dust. So, I asked for plain table cloths, a mascara and a Danish film. I didn't end up with any of these things, of course.

(* I remember one year I asked for a tiny saucepan because I was a poor student with foodie tendencies. I got a huge stew-pot instead because I "needed that much more". I put it next to my other two stew-pots. No, it was impossible to exchange it for the tiny saucepan; stew-pot came straight from my auntie A's cookery stash)

This year will be different. I have signed up for Wist which apparently helps you organise cool things you see online (it would be extra useful if I could remember my password). I have bought a notebook where I keep track of lust objects and when my mother finally pleads for a wish list (this month? next month?), I shall mail her one with well-organised, colour-coded items I would absolutely love.

Here's a little preview of my two-page long list:
+ Merino/silk yarn from Nimu
+ Icelandic shawl pattern & yarn
+ Knitted Lace of Estonia - Nancy Bush
+ Addi knitting needles: 3mm, 4mm, 5mm ..

Huzzah for new, exciting hobby and all the exciting things that overseas family can easily send me! Huzzah! Christmas cannot come soon enough - and I think it's the first time in my adult life that I've said that.

Can I Have Another Piece..?

I have a guilty pleasure blog that I read ever so often whenever I either want to cheer myself up or want to depress myself (and sometimes I want both - I'm a complex woman). The blog in question is Tartelette and it is a food blog. No, let me rephrase that: it's a food blog and I tell you them italics there make all the difference.

Tartelette features mainly desserts and baked goods - at least that has been the focus since I started dropping by ever-so-casually. A typical entry would be somewhere along the lines of this Lemon Rhubarb Mascarpone Mousse Cake entry: mouth-watering photography, exquisite recipe and a delightfully humourous blogging voice with oodles of that 'personal touch' which is so essential to a good blog read. And, of course, let's keep in mind that we're talking about a lemon rhubarb mascarpone mousse cake which is miles away from that lumpy lemon pound cake I managed the other day. It's good to daydream sometimes.

Seeing as I won't be making a lemon rhubarb mascarpone mousse cake (nor the honey panna cotta and raspberry terrine, alas), I think I shall have to pay The Mannequin a visit. It is a scrumptious tea and cake shop which has opened just a few minutes away from Casa Bookish. Last time we enjoyed their fabulous New York Cheesecake. I think it's time we sampled their Belgian chocolate cake.

Look Wot I Made..

This is my first major lace work (bar two projects we shall not mention) and I'm actually pretty happy with it despite my overly critical eye. The pattern is called "Swallowtail" and it's a nice little shawl. It was knitted in lovely DROPS Alpaca (which is available in Danish yarn shops, hint hint!). The second lace pattern from the top was supposed to have tiny "knots" but they were omitted because I decided they looked like fuzzy brambles.

The shawl pin is a silver replica of a Bronze Age shawl pin found in a bog close to where I grew up. E. gave it to me as a token of love and friendship when I moved from Denmark. I think of her every time I wear it.

I also realise that I have actually posted a picture of myself on my blog for the first time in.. well, the seven years I have been blogging (bar the profile photo, of course). I have been hesitant in showing my face to the world but I'm figuring that most of my readers nowadays* will either know me offline or have me friended on Facebook. Besides, since my blog stalker experience** I have realised that no matter how hard I try to keep myself fairly anonymous, people can and will find out personal details.. So, yes, say hello to my face (and the lovely lace shawl).

* Ah, my hotshot literary blogger days are long gone..
** surely I have mentioned this before? Let's just say the police were involved.