In recent years, I’ve become quite the Thanksgiving Scrooge. It’s not my favorite holiday. It’s simply a meal whose traditional foods I do not enjoy (fowl, yams and pies).

Mind you, I have plenty of good memories of turkey and tofurkey of yore. And, I’m not one to shy away from the kitchen. I just don’t get into the anticipation and obsession of the ritual eats. I would love a social meal at any time during the year. I don’t need an national holiday to dictate one for me.

For the past few years, we’ve driven up to Eugene to C’s parents’ for the weekend. It’s always relaxing here and Janie loves her duty of protecting the yard from squirrels. I get a lot of knitting done and often have to make a dish. Good times all around.

Something clicked this year. Different. It was a great meal, even without a vegetarian turkey imposter. My gratin with mushrooms and celeriac sizzled. More importantly, I talked with everyone in my immediate family on the phone. I realize how much I really, really miss them. It would have been nice to share this meal with them. Even my brother that no one knows I have.

Not being a dessert guy, I gave one a whirl. I finally made the brown butter rice crispy treats from Smitten Kitchen. They weren’t as life-changing as their name would lead you to believe, but worth the attempt. I’d like to tweak them with more savory next time: sage perhaps?

I’m thankful for having a change of heart and looking forward to my next t-day. I’m thankful for my family, here and across the country.

But mostly, I’m thankful for butter.

Siskiyou pass from CA into OR to give thanks with the inlaws in Eugene. I miss my biological family – Seattle sister and western NY parents.

I miss snow, too.

Carrie posted some lovely photos of her freshly washed socks drying. Having just washed 12 pair myself, and briefly visiting the tens, nay, twenties, (I don’t want to believe it’s over 100) of skeins of sock yarn lying in wait yesterday, I’m feeling the urge to produce more foot coverings. For my own feet, for my mind, for friends and loved ones.

But sock knitting takes time. So does the button band on the cardigan I’m knitting. As do the designs that have yet to be committed to paper. Not to mention the many sweaters I hope to wear that have yet to be wound. Then there are the gloves I promised MiHi when I first started knitting so many years ago. And the Knitspot jacket I’ve loved since Sock Summit and had the yarn since Rhinebeck 2009. Don’t forget the babies. And the woolly pounds more that take up space in this apartment.

There are at least six socks completed or near completed awaiting their mate. I think I’ll start with them first. Maybe I’ll even allow myself to start a simple mindless pair just so I can have a sock sack for all seasons. But first I should really tackle those gloves…

Shaken or stirred? Beer or wine? Ethiopian or pizza? Coffee or tea? Book or blog?

There are so many choices, none of which is the clear winner over the other.

Stephanie has outed me as a teetotaler. Or at least as a tea drinker. (Beer and wine will remain my close friends.)

The tradition is new to me, adding a little structure to my work-at-home day, but I’m not stranger to the bags and leaves. Growing up as the son of a minister, I’ve survived hours upon hours of church coffee hours. With that comes experimenting with all forms of Styrofoam-cupped beverages. Not being a fan of sweet things, I wasn’t having any fruit juice or approximation thereof. Plus, it helped up my pretentious quotient to try to drink like a grown-up. Oh, the 70s and early 80s.

In recent years, tea was reserved for feeling under the weather. I’m a huge fan of Traditional Medicinals teas at the first sign of a sniffle. In lieu of tea, coffee and its barista-crafted forms have been my morning and special weekend go-to treats. I’ve often flirted with various forms of green tea, but never developed a habit. And like any good friend of lesbyterians and yogis, I can be trusted to have at least two herbals on hand at any given time.

Right now, I’m working through the many years of accumulated tea in the cupboard. It’s too unconsidered to call it a stash or a collection. What advice would you give a tea-newbie? Nothing fancy or fruity, just simple, traditional, tea-ish. I want to start with British, Scottish, Irish, Canadian, heck all of Europe. I’ll work my way more east in time… I’ve always wanted to experience a chanoyu ceremony, but that’s another blog post.

Let’s grab a cuppa. I steeping some Twinings Earl Grey as I type. It’s a place to start.

City Councilperson Joel Burns from Fort Worth, Texas. It’s worth watching the entire thing.

This is part of the It Gets Better Project (YouTube channel and website) started by Dan Savage.

Here’s Dan’s column that started it all (see the third item down).

It really does get better.

This is not my piece, nor my dipping. I was lucky enough to watch Kathy at earthues speak and dye during the Men’s Fall Knittng Retreat. (Her place is beautiful, a must-see in Seattle.) I am even luckier to call myself the owner of this fine scarf, now a deep, dark indigo blue. It’s currently drying on the stair railing.

I looked back to see if I posted anything this time last year about the lasr retreat. Sadly, I hadn’t. It was the start of a time of transition, as I was preparing my homework, an hour-long audition, for my current role that would see me leave a nine-year stint at Clif Bar. I was also knitting my wrists off to complete a raglan sweater (that was just published) and another garment (fate still TBD). I remember sitting in the Seattle airport, concerned about the future that I hoped to open up for me.

Much like the indigo dip, the retreat (as with many before it) stands out in my memory as a watershed event. There’s great oxidation & transformation that follows upon exposure to air & life afterwards. I ended up getting that job and what a ride the past year has been. I’ve turned many new shades of me and have come out wildly different than it initially appeared.

In its own special way, this year will similarly have yet to reveal itself. I hadn’t planned on attending this year’s MFKR, but I’m glad they could accommodate a late addtion after an impulsive Labor Day phone call. A stressful project had just wrapped up and I could imagine being social and not stressed again, if imminent a weekend.

I need a forthcoming transformation, boy, do I ever.
Who knows? Maybe it will reveal itself like last year, in just a few weeks.

Fabulous Secret Powers from SLACKCiRCUS on Vimeo.

Remember this.

ETA: great thoughts here: more creation, less consumption.

In the mini-park across from the office, two pigeons bathed in the grimey water that trickles down the wall. Some call it a fountain.

An uncharacteristically warm day, for birds and humans alike.

I’m not a traditional tuna salad guy. I don’t like large pieces of celery nor do I like relish. I also do not feel tied to mayo for a ghostly binder. What passes for tuna salad at most sandwich counters bores me.

That’s not to say I’m adverse to the concept. Exhibit A: today’s tuna surprise sandwich was an open-faced pile-up of peas, pickles & pumpkin seeds with a soft-boiled egg on top. Basically, whatever is in the fridge and concepts or combinations I want to try. In my uneducated way, this is how I play with textures, temperature, flavors and seasoning.

Thus far, it hasn’t failed me. Making do with what I have and an imagination creates excitement and beauty. Luckily the trying is as tasty as the magic of mixing.

I need more of this in my life.