Waiting for Coq au Vin

That's what I'm doing right now. Just waiting for my coq au vin to finish cooking. It's the "Quick Coq au Vin" recipe from Cooking Light, which you can find here. I mean, look at this stuff - yummy! I've made it so many times, you'd think I know the recipe by heart (I mostly do, but if I don't take a quick look at the recipe I might forget something).

This is where coq au vin was born: Bourgogne France (Burgundy for us English-speakers). What a beautiful landscape! So that's what I want for Christmas: a trip to the birthplace of coq au vin.

M.Y.O.B.

I had a moment of extreme self-awareness during my yoga class tonight, and here it is: I am tooooo nosy. I already knew I was nosy (Marc will tell you that when dining out, I'm often inordinately interested in the tables around me), but I can't help it. The world is such a fascinating place!

But the time for fascination is not while you're in reverse triangle pose. That is not the time to be gawking at your neighbors. It is the time for focusing on not falling down. Oh, and stillness, always stillness.

Crafting Doldrums

For reasons that are not immediately apparent to me, I haven't been in the mood for crafting for several days now. I think it's my lack of dedicated sewing space. I have to drag all of my equipment up from the basement every time I want to sew, and it's kind of a pain.

Speaking of pain, I also hurt my back on Saturday, while chasing my nephew around. It was my own fault. I was bent over and running after him at Marshall's, and the awkward angle combined with the duration of running made something go awry at the base of my spine.

Bravely, however, I managed to meet Leslie afterwards at Trader Joe's for the grand opening of the first store in Rhode Island. As my friend Julie said when she called me from TJ's later that day, "You have no idea what's happening here unless you've already been here." She was right, but I had been, and knew what she meant. It's hard to explain the madness unless you had seen it for yourself. The shelves were looking empty, even after just 36 hours in business. It was like a feeding frenzy. Bags of Mandarin Orange Chicken were flying through the air, along with small children and packages of Trader Jose's enchiladas. Not for the faint of heart.

As for my crafting doldrums, I did receive my monkey-pirate fabric in the mail today, so perhaps I will be inspired after all. Ahoy mateys!

Happy Hallowe'en!

I like how they used to write it as "Hallowe'en" in "the olden days." Have a spoooooooky day, and eat lots of candy! That's an order. I'm not kidding.

Pirate Monkeys

I love this fabric! I ordered some today for a baby quilt I'm making for my future nephew. Nothing says "baby" like monkeys dressed as pirates, that's for sure. Arrrr ...


I also ordered some red and white calico prints from fabric.com. I don't normally go for calicos, but I thought they might come in handy if anyone has a baby girl, or I feel compelled to inject a little "shabby chic" into my bedroom. Well, that probably won't happen, but I just liked the fabric and it was only $4.98 a yard (rationalizing alert!). And wouldn't it be cute as a dress for a little girl?

Speaking of little girls, Marc's friends just had twins a month or so ago. I'm in the process of making baby quilts for them, as well. They're both circus-themed, because when I bought the fabric I didn't know the sex of the babies, and mint green "gender neutral" fabric just doesn't do it for me. So, the quilts are bright, primary colors, with an emphasis on red.

Why I Should Own a Quilt Shop

I've been a really bad blogger. I know I have.

OK, I got that off my chest. Now, I really wish I was a quilt shop owner so I could go to "Market" and see all these designers' gorgeous booths!

Ode to a Lonely Bullet

Have you ever found a bullet in your washing machine? I have. Okay, my husband is a police officer, so I guess it's not that hard to believe, but the first time it happens, it's a little unsettling.

I was minding my own business, transferring my wet clothes to the dryer, when I heard a clanging sound in the washing machine. I thought it might be coins, but no, it was a bullet. Now, I've been fairly sheltered in my suburban world, and have never seen a bullet in person, never mind found one in my laundry, so as you can imagine, I was a bit unnerved. Would it explode? Was there some particular way of disposing it? I had no idea.

So I placed it on top of the washing machine, where it remained for several weeks, undisturbed, save for the spin cycle. I finally brought it upstairs and gave it to Marc and asked him to put it back in its home. Was it lonely during its basement exile? Was it glad to rejoin its mates? Perhaps we'll never know.