tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84763922213582075632012-02-16T14:40:55.577-05:00jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.comBlogger191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-25112542714838637692007-08-06T14:03:00.000-05:002007-08-06T14:11:56.083-05:00

When we first started off together, Blogger and I were BFFs. But, truth be told, the firewall at my place of employ has hated Blogger desperately from the beginning. So I must, too.But you can come join me at my new buddy's. We're still getting to know each other, but soon we'll have figured out each other's quirks.

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-72672144947679625672007-03-20T08:58:00.000-05:002007-03-20T14:55:35.470-05:00

[M]en were much like children in their minds long ago, long, long ago, and so before they took to writing newspapers, and sermons, and novels, and long poems, they told each other stories, such as you read in the fairy books . . . Some of the stories were made, no doubt, not only to amuse, but to teach goodness. You see, in the tales, how the boy who is kind to beasts, and polite, and

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-4599961414992289632007-03-14T09:20:00.000-05:002007-03-14T12:02:45.034-05:00

I bought it because it was cheaper than gin, but I have learned. Learned. It's unfortunate because I really do love whiskey. I'm not a celiac. My tolerance for grains like barley and rye fluctuates (and at this point, I really do only have rye exclusively in the form of whiskey). So in theory, I can have whiskey. Perhaps it's because all of my allergies are on high alert this week, but I

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-68783032321749971852007-03-09T12:36:00.000-05:002007-03-09T16:28:47.483-05:00

I have a bad habit of trying to sew last minute outfits. As my sewing machine is old and the tension is so bad, I am sometimes driven to handstitching or cursing at the machine while accomplishing nothing. There is a slight possibility this is my fault. After all, before last summer, the last thing I had knit was a matching outfit for my me and my Cabbage Patch Doll.But while most of my spring

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-30426159262974408772007-03-07T13:14:00.000-05:002007-03-08T17:00:13.274-05:00

I am a compulsive listmaker. Not of To Do lists, though. Before Christmas I made a To Do list and even inked in progress on the projects. This became necessary because handknitting all gifts meant a lot of work and very little sleep. The thought was if I hung it on the door to my apartment, I could compel myself to really buckle down and finish everything. It's worked when throwing a

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-12562784302428718482007-03-05T12:39:00.000-05:002007-03-05T15:11:53.770-05:00

What is it about watching samurai movies that makes me want to bake? Or, what is it about baking that makes me want to watch samurai movies? It's hard to say which desire comes first, but these urges tend to arrive at about the same time.The informal PPK poll listed Isa's peanut butter oatmel and ginger cookies as the absolute favorites for Isa cookie first-timers. Why fight the love,

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-35855713017589921452007-03-02T16:29:00.000-05:002007-03-02T17:05:20.089-05:00

When we were little, about once a month my father would go do his SAC duty which meant, as I understood it at the time, that he had to live on the air force base on the weekend. At nights, my mother would push a chair up under the knob of her door to make sure no burglers could get in. My brother and I would be . . . on the other side of that door. But the fact that my mom would use these

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-68792880371662044802007-02-28T16:31:00.000-05:002007-02-28T17:33:14.276-05:00

But then do. I went on a bit of a book buying spree last week. First, I allowed myself into Forbidden Planet for the first time in a few years since I can do as much damage there as in any yarn shop. I felt compelled to buy three volumes of Hellboy and two of Preacher and other miscellany (although I emerged toy free). And then continued this mindless rampage at Barnes and Noble where I

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-22771219581625861442007-02-26T13:18:00.000-05:002007-02-26T14:53:52.215-05:00

I never thought crochet would take. I've had that Debbie Stoller book for ages. I've tried working from it a few times, but got frustrated and put it down. The problem, I found, was that since I already knit, I couldn't be bothered to crochet. While I've heard crochet can be faster than knitting, I was crawling along, none too sure I was doing anything right. But then it happened. Flipping

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-15210283042802012902007-02-26T10:05:00.000-05:002007-02-26T13:02:47.430-05:00

Whether in books, film, art, I've always appreciated creative types who love to experiment. Even if the finished product isn't perfect, I still prefer it to something created by someone who always plays it safe. But when it comes to food, I've been hesitant to push things too far. Food has a different kind of purpose though, and the possibility that I might have to throw out a whole pot of

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-76363814961325983042007-02-23T11:01:00.000-05:002007-02-23T17:35:12.206-05:00

I will not try to pretend. I love Anthropologie. I love the life they try to sell me. Maybe because it helps me forgive the cracks in my bedroom and living room walls and the missing tile on the rise to my . . . picturesque bathroom. But right now it's all about the clothes. They're too pricey for me and a good lot of them aren't vegan (especially those winter sweaters), but a girl can dream.I

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-37678823762933627182007-02-14T10:51:00.000-05:002007-02-14T11:58:00.617-05:00

In this case, me (as I have no delusions that I have any readers). And, to a certain degree, my office mates to keep the chub in check.In early January, while wading through old Cream Puffs in Venice posts, I came across a link to a recipe for Hazelnut Sandwich Cookies from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Desserts that sounded divine. I thought it looked as if it would veganize fairly easily.

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-78428183173994534962007-02-13T15:31:00.000-05:002007-02-05T14:44:10.026-05:00

I'd love to pretend that it's atypical for me to spend a weekend sacked out on my couch with a stack of books, magazines, yarn and needles growing beside me, but this blog is Bottle and Ball for a reason. I'm not much of a people person. Or rather they intimidate me. Or I have social anxiety. Or something like that. So, much like when I was a child, I spend a lot of time alone.It almost

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-28858767518048128072007-02-05T13:56:00.000-05:002007-02-05T14:44:10.495-05:00

With the temperatures dipping down to unbearable, I settled in this weekend, hoping to get a lot accomplished. Seaport had saved the day by providing the yarn for my legwarmers. If only I could remember what the heck I did with my 6 dpns. While I would have loved to go back out and get them, I know mine are in my apartment somewhere. Perhaps buried under the mountain of books? Now that I

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-17150773882687328142007-02-02T11:12:00.000-05:002007-02-02T12:55:36.747-05:00

Now that I've finished a good set of thigh high stockings I'm feeling emboldened. I've got it in my mind to knit every pair of socks and stockings in Folk Socks. I was lucky that a very special friend works in a small bookshop and gave it to me as a welcome home present for my post-holiday return. I've started with the Norwegian stockings (which I first fell in love with, I believe, on Eunny

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-45228679086501575852007-02-01T12:18:00.000-05:002007-02-01T13:13:42.386-05:00

Perhaps I shouldn't gloat yet. I finished the final toe decreases one short subway stop away from work, slipped the stitches onto the stitch markers and cast on for a new pair of stockings. I felt very cool, like when you finish one book on the subway and whip out a second -- sort of like, I read so much I have to carry extra books around with me. Except now I don't read quite as much, and my

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-48232550577474091782007-01-31T12:38:00.000-05:002007-01-31T14:22:04.749-05:00

I read cookbooks for fun, several at a time, spread out in front of me or perched on the edge of my bathtub. I imagine what I might cook, plan elaborate dinner parties and clever dinners for one that maximize variety while minimizing the number of ingredients I would need to buy (perfectly strategized, nutritional bounties, of course). I mark the standout or most interesting recipes with strips

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-30826895585034935022007-01-25T17:32:00.000-05:002007-01-25T17:35:26.180-05:00

There's something lovely about finishing your first project of the year. Even better when that first project is something weather appropriate. Like this hat from Knitting Nature.Just last week as I wandered down the hall at work to my cubicle, someone shouted: "When are you going to make me a hat?" To which I could only respond: "I don't even have a hat." (This is selective memory. I have

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8476392221358207563.post-51401001817621104962007-01-24T17:18:00.000-05:002007-01-24T17:24:13.323-05:00

I'd like to pretend I've never fallen victim of that one sock curse. But somewhere in my apartment, stuffed into the back of my closet no doubt beneath the one bit of laundry I always refuse to do, hides a house sock made of springy, pink Rowan Calmer. Part of me knows I’d like to find that sock. I want the yarn back. I have things I can do with it.But I don’t want to confront the

jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02403204441047302754noreply@blogger.com0