Oh Why-O, Part II

I found Ohio curious, but I enjoyed being there. Much of it looked like this:

So imagine my surprise when some of it looked like this:

That's a manatee in the background. The Columbus Zoo has two of them and features some of the most impressive crowd control management techniques I've ever seen. Not that they were necessary today - there were about 200 people in the entire enormous zoo, and we practically had the baby elephant all to ourselves. Manatees! Who knew?

Why, Oh Why, Oh Why Oh

This post comes to you via some flaky wireless service at the lovely
Quality Inn in Tiffin, Ohio. It may be expounded upon at some later
date when I can type with more than just thumbs. But let me state for
posterity that not only have I just attended a beautiful wedding and
enjoyed the excellent company of my friends and neighbors far from our
usual locale, but also I have witnessed the unprecedented sight of my
husband dancing to pop music with our son. Which alone may have been
worth any stress accumulated over the past 48 hours. Because that was
AWESOME.

The Snowy Day, Redux

What I Made This Week

Thanks to Reading is My Superpower for this darling reversible pinafore pattern, and apologies for the crappy camera phone pictures. Clearly my next project will have to be a pair of matching bloomers from Amy Butler's Little Stitches.

Otherwise: I just keep knitting around and around on a fine gauge sock. One origami box folded to hold rubber bands in the kitchen. And I've finally found the perfect pattern for the lovely handpainted alpaca yarn I received for Christmas (but it's a secret, for now).

My son has discovered beads, and was so focused on threading them onto a piece of plastic string (the stuff we called gimp back in the 70s - I suspect that's probably not PC any more) that he ignored the ringing doorbell completely. I'm going to have to get more beads.

The Missing Heads of Harrison Ford

A couple of months ago, Mr Apparently purchased a 5-pound box of Legos on eBay. The contents were said to be a mix of pieces from several Lego sets. Along with numerous wheels, about 200 little green L-shaped pieces, two plastic spiders and some random weaponry, the box contained the distinct trappings of an Indiana Jones set: a gold treasure chest, a bullwhip, and not one but three brown satchels. And, the headless figure of Mr. Jones himself.

We found it of particular coincidence that the other figure in the set, also headless, is clearly Han Solo.

Pentagram says I'm a courier type. I would have suspected myself to be a Perpetual Titling Light kind of person, myself, but self-identifying as progressive rather than traditional made all the difference.

Shoe Emergency?

Apparently can't be bothered to post something witty tonight because she's just realized that she hasn't worn her black special occasion shoes since giving birth (i.e., when my feet grew half a size) and suddenly needs a pair available for purchase online and delivered to my home no later than Thursday.

Which one of these floats your boat?

Jellyfish

We spent the day at the NY Aquarium. I have some mixed thoughts about this aquarium, but the "Alien Stingers" exhibit is unquestionably cool. Did the branding people think that "Alien Stingers" would attract more people than "Jellyfish"? I don't know about you, but I'm always up for a good jellyfish exhibit, regardless of what it's called.

Modern Quilting

The Modern Quilt Guild has a post today about how every generation calls itself modern, meaning a divergence from past style(s)...and yet a photo then-and-now shows that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Or at least that's true in quilting. My friend's vintage-photography-mashup website, Sepiatown, launched today, and it shows that the more things change in architecture, they more they just plain change.

quilt begun by Vania and finished by me in 2008. You should know this: if you ever give me crafting materials, it's likely that you will receive something made from them in return. I know this is not your intention. The cyclical nature of giving and receiving just appeals to me.

Another Finished Project

Crepes and Minestrone

I love making crepes. The only reason I don't make them more often is that the crepe pans live at the back of the pots and pans cabinet. Yesterday I whipped up a batch of batter in the morning - right, the other reason I don't make crepes more is that I usually don't have the foresight to make the batter ahead of time, and resting is a crucial component in the crepes's ultimate consistency - and not even last-minute dinner plans with Bert & Vivi's mom and Storkbite's mom kept me from cooking up a batch of ham and cheese crepes.

Storkbite Stew is always full of good ideas. Her most compelling reside at the intersection of food and community, and so tonight I am the fortunate recipient of a pot of minestrone and a batch of chocolate chip cookies lovingly prepared by a third mother and her 4-year old daughter. In two weeks I have the pleasure of returning the favor. I love living on Sesame Street.

Savory Crepes, from The Joy of Cooking

Ingredients

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup milk

1/4 cup lukewarm water

2 large eggs

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/4 teaspoon salt

Directions

1. Pour the batter into a pitcher or other container with a pouring lip.
2. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand for 30 minutes or in refrigerate for up to 2 days. (This allows the flour to thoroughly absorb the liquid and gives the gluten in the flour a chance to relax.).
3. Place a nonstick or seasoned crepe pan over medium heat. Coat the pan with a little unsalted butter.
4. Stir the batter and pour about 2 tablespoons into the pan, lifting the pan off the heat and tilting and rotating it so that the batter forms an even, very thin layer. Cook until the top is set and the underside is golden. Turn the crepe over, using a spatula or your fingers (fingers work best here) and cook until the second side is lightly browned. Remove the crepe to a piece of wax paper. Continue cooking the rest of the crepes, buttering the pan and stirring the batter before starting each one.
5. Stack the finished crepes between sheets of wax paper.
6. Use immediately or let cool, wrap airtight and freeze for up to 1 month.

This recipe claims to make 12 crepes; I have small pans and it made 7. Why not double the recipe? You know that the first one in each pan never comes out right anyway.

image from Wikimedia Commons

Sugar + Fire = Satisfaction

Mr Apparently, ever the sweetie and clever to boot, has hit upon the perfect "I need a little something and there's nothing in the house" snack. Occasionally at night I'll hear the click-click-click of the gas burner on the stove, and two minutes later, this:

Really, fire is the ultimate way to extract value from a marshmallow. No nutritional value whatsoever, but 25 calories of sticky, sugary goodness.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Good: Snuggling in bed with Apparently Junior, reading his favorite books about tractors and fire trucks, while huge flakes of snow tumbled around outside the windows.

Bad: Why in bed? We were both exhausted, having been up since before dawn. And I tried to nap this afternoon, really I did, but the ConEd guys drilling in the street outside were having none of it. "We have to work in the snow; you don't get to sleep during the day time," they said. Or, they would have if I'd opened the window and asked them - nicely, of course - to stop. And if they spoke using semi-colons.

Ugly: The ConEd guys left three orange cones blocking the entrance to my street. I watched as an SUV drove over one of them, dragged it a few feet, and then backed up into the intersection in an attempt to dislodge the errant beacon. Back and forth, several times, until the passenger was discharged to investigate, and she then appealed to a building super who was salting the sidewalks, who finally yanked out the wayward cone. I can only assume that the ConEd guys left the cones for a reason (other than neglect), and that the SUV is going to receive some sort of nastygram when they return to find it parked over their manhole cover.

The Art Museum, Not the Grocery Store

Since Mr. Apparently had a rare Monday holiday, we left the house early and took the bus to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 10am is a perfect time for museum-going; no waiting in line, the halls are sparsely populated, and you're ready for a snack before the lunchtime rush.

Thanks to New York, New York!: The Big Apple from A to Z, Apparently Junior was adamant that we find William the Hippo, the museum's unofficial mascot. The Interwebs could tell us only that William resides "in the Egyptian galleries," which is an area larger than a city block containing hundreds of thousands of items. Security Guard #1 had absolutely no idea when I was referring to when I asked the location of the little blue hippopotamus; he suggested I ask another guard. Guard #2 also had no idea, adding, "I don't usually work in these galleries." We did a little detective work as to little William's age and managed to get closer before asking the next guard, who smiled kindly and pointed out the little sculpture across the room. Result: one happy toddler.

The second highlight of the trip was an indoor/alfresco lunch in the Charles Engelhard Court, an enormous atrium featuring natural light both direct and filtered through transparent panels, making it feel as if one were outside on a spring day while seated comfortably inside during a February chill. Noshing on American artisanal cheeses with the shimmering Diana and Tiffany windows nearby was an unexpected and welcome delight. (Bonus: here's a photo set showing the restoration of this court prior to its reopening in 2009.)

On our way to the modern art wing, after a quick ride in the coolest glass elevator ever, we passed through the Apparently family's secret favorite part of the museum: Visible Storage. Row after row of glass cabinets house settees, teaspoons, salt cellars, cigarette cases, grandfather clocks and assorted clock mechanisms, glass vessels organized by color, and an amazing array of American painting. Gilbert Stuart's portrait of George Washington resides here, and for some unknown reason John Singer Sargent's Madame X is currently in residence in a front-row glass case. The security guard, an older man of European descent, caught my incredulous gaze and nodded knowingly. The last time I saw Madame she was the centerpiece of a huge exhibition several years ago. Now she hangs frameless in Visible Storage.

Our destination in the modern art wing? Charles Demuth's The Figure Number 5 in Gold, a lovely painting in its own right and appealing to Apparently, Jr for its role as the model for a watch he and his father presented to me on Valentine's Day. Only through a strange series of gallery closings, restroom detours, and chance did we stumble upon the one open modern art gallery today, and there it was: Demuth's brilliant homage to William Carlos Williams. Can you see the fire engine?

After all this excitement, A Jr. fell sound asleep on the downtown bus, and no amount of transferring or being carried home in his father's arms could wake the exhausted little bug. I couldn't be more pleased that art makes him happy.

Guilty Pleasure

Mod Podge Rocks. Go on, click it. You know you want to.

So, we're halfway through February's Post-a-Day Challenge, and while I have managed to post at least something every day, I've also confirmed that I don't necessarily have something witty/clever/vaguely interesting to say on a daily basis. I do visit the far corners of the web fairly often, and I like to share the bits of interest found therein. This is why I enjoy blogs such as not martha and Juniper Moon Farm's occasional feature Probably Something You Would Like.

Perhaps my role in the blogosphere is as a connector.

Fried

And so, something nifty from the web:

Potentially Amazing Technology: Spray-On Liquid Glass

Thank you, Treehugger.

Old Fashioned

It's no Manhattan, but apparently was just what I needed.

Use old-fashioned cocktail glass.

Sugar, 1 lump.

Seltzer, 1 dash, and crush sugar with muddler.

Ice, one square piece.

Orange bitters, 1 dash.

Angostura bitters, 1 dash.

Lemon peel, 1 piece.

Whiskey, 1 jigger.

Stir gently and serve with spoon. And good conversation with a friend who knows how to knock a little bit of sense into you.

-- recipe from the Wikipedia

Let Me Count the Ways

Regardless of your take on Valentine's Day (day of bliss or Hallmark holiday?), there's something for everyone in Geekdad's Top 10 Tragic Love Stories in Geek Fiction.

Or, perhaps you're still looking for that special something. Consider 8 Unusual Valentine's Day Gifts to Get Your Mate Hot ...or Bothered.

Hmm, InventorSpot may have one ugly web site, but they have Ideas for your Gadget-Loving Crush as well.

When I picked my son up from preschool today, I received my first construction-paper valentine, edged in gold glitter and containing glued-on pictures of conversation hearts. Be still my heart - it's totally perfect.

Lego rose available at lego.com. But it comes pre-built - where's the fun in that?

From the Mouths of Babes

"What's a blog? There was a huge snowman right next to our building. Our building apartment. A gigantic snowman. One of the trees fell down, maybe its trunk broke or something. It was very windy when I got to Lou Lodati Park. We bought some marshmallows and some cocoa and some hot chocolate. I like my marshmallows plain - not fried, not roasted. We're having a blog."

"NYC public schools will be closed tomorrow 'due to anticipated squally weather conditions,' Chancellor of the New York City DOE Joel Klein said in an e-mailed statement.

The blizzard may dump 8 to 13 inches of snow in New York City and Long Island, according to the weather forecasters are prediction. The storm is expected to start in the early morning hours on Wednesday and could continue all day."

Seriously, 8 to 13 inches merits a school closing? I think Joel Klein just wants to go sledding.

Eek!

Apparently I am afraid of mice.

But if I am allowed to elaborate, I might suggest that I am rather Not Pleased With Having a Mouse in My Apartment. I have glimpsed numerous mice while staying at a farmhouse in Vermont, and one can hear the mice scrambling through the walls of my parents' rural home. But roaming through my apartment in Queens? Not Okay.

A few weeks ago my son, age 2.75, announced, "I saw a mouse" while pointing to the radiator in the kitchen. Neither Mr. Apparently nor I saw any mouse and we chalked it up to toddler imagination (knowing the odds were decent that this was willful self-deception on our collective part). But last Wednesday night I walked into the kitchen to discover a little brown mouse scrambling furiously up the back of the stove. I calmly put down the plant I had intended to water, walked to the bathroom where my son was being bathed, and announced, "There's a mouse in the kitchen." By the time Mr. A arrived to investigate, our little visitor had disappeared.

Mr. A used the top rhetorical skills in his considerable arsenal to convince me that this very small rodent was here by accident and didn't want to be in my kitchen any more than I wanted him (the mouse) there. I remained squicked-out and tense. And then we went on vacation for four days. leaving explicit instructions with the building's management to let the exterminator into our apartment and deal with the little...pest. This did not happen.*

I returned to find mouse droppings on my counter, and I flipped out. You can rest assured that my kitchen has since been thoroughly disinfected, phone calls made and plans set afoot. Holes will be plugged and humane traps will be set. By tomorrow my home should be a fully-mouseproof zone.

But strangest of all to me? My own reaction. I didn't exactly get up on a chair and flail my arms about, but I've pretty much accomplished the 2010 version.

My cat, by the way, is useless.

*Isn't it required that people who live in apartment buildings provide a set of keys to the building management? I have always done so, and I've always known that in the case of an emergency - fire or massive water leak or something along those lines - the the super has the right to enter my apartment. Apparently in my building they are in possession of a scant handful of keys, a fact I first learned during the Great Upstairs Water Leak of 2009. The management company, when asked, just shrugged it off with "people aren't always very cooperative."

Neither Rain nor Sleet nor Snow

Gas is $4.59/gallon. The temperature is below 70. What kind of trip to
Florida is this?

Watch Out, Arthur Danto

photo by bshort

Stuff I've Made This Week

One messenger bag (still needs a buckle), from The New Handmade

Two baby hats

Four pinwheel bobby pins

And sadly, one square for a memorial quilt

All I Ever Wanted

We're on vacation! That's right, at this very moment (or the moment this post goes live, anyway), we'll be flying down the Eastern seaboard to visit B's parents in sunny Florida.

Unsure whether I'll have computer access in the Sunshine State, I've put together the first installment of a web round-up. Here's what's caught my eye lately.

Apparently, I Like This

Modern Page Flags from See Jane Work

In the absence of the late Gourmet magazine, Gourmet Unbound

Pants for kids and parents by Matt Brown

True Up, my favorite source for fabric news

Toddler Math, or Let's Play in the Snow

The walk from our apartment to preschool is five blocks. A healthy adult can make this walk in five minutes, or perhaps six if one observes all traffic signals. A healthy adult walking with a curious toddler, however, can make this walk in fifteen minutes at best, and that's if the lights cooperate, as we stop for every one. Short legs plus an affinity for asking questions about each truck, bird and sound makes for a chilly journey in winter weather. So usually we take the stroller to school. And let's be honest: this is for the boy's mother's comfort. He's happy to play in the cold.

This morning, however, we woke to a rare bit of snow.

And so I bundled us both up and we walked to school.

Plus, I Have to Make My Own Coffee

Old news, but new to me: according to Salary.com, if stay-at-home mothers were paid the equivalent of their professional counterparts in child care, cleaning, cooking, and all of the other tasks demanded of the role, we would earn ~$134,121 annually. That number represents 91.6 hours each week. Let's be more precise here and remove the laundry machine operator and (most of) van driver from my particular equation - that's still more hours than I ever spent as a corporate strategist. That said, I enjoy my colleagues and the dress code is more relaxed.

Crafty Bloggers Celebrate "Boy Month"

It's BOY month on Dana Made It and Made by Rae - two crafty bloggers who rightly agree that boys have been underserved in the crafty blogosphere. So this month they're focusing on Boy tutorials, Boy clothing ideas, Boy crafts, Boy bags and all things crafty + Boy. I, for one, will be following along intently. Because those pinwheel pins are cute, but I'll toss my sewing machine out the window before I try to convince my boy to wear them.

Today Rae shows how to make a men's shirt into a boy's shirt. I already have the pattern pieces cut from Heather Ross's Kai Shirt from Weekend Sewing, so this goes right into the sewing queue.