tax (return) evasion

I always aim to file my tax return by my birthday in October. And then I promise myself it really will get done by Christmas. Inevitably I end up filing at the very last minute in January (oops). It's the absolute prime example of my worst habit - crashing procrastination - and it's the sole reason I get so productively engrossed in other things at around about this time of year.

So October came and went, predictably. And now with Christmas looming I'm knitting prodigiously all of a sudden, the latest finished item being the Christmas Zooey for The Boss. Super cute.

It was supposed to have some sort of ruffles up the front, but by the time I had added the button bands, hidden about two dozen tails, and added the buttons, I felt like the fabric had been tortured enough. Do you ever feel that way? That you've made beautiful soft sections, blocked them to razor-edged perfection, but then when it comes to the finishing it feels like torturing and contorting your lovely fabric into bumpy seams and knotty lumps under the armpits? No? Ah well, just me and my ham fists.

Anyway, moving swiftly on (so that I don't have time to think about, far less fill out, the forms for you-know-what). I've so admired Ginny's little girls in their cap-sleeved tops that I've decided to see if I can get one of those finished for the Christmas break too, using some yarn that should have everything going for it. Rowan Purelife Revive in Pink Granite is speckled, textured, made from recycled garments, and is all-round gorgeous. Unfortunately it's hand-achingly awful to knit with due to it being a lot like pretty string. But I've got four balls that cost a fortune about two years ago and I'm determined to use them up (more items have been started and frogged in this dreadful, gorgeous stuff than I care to admit), so the cap-sleeved sweater is it. I've never knitted anything in the round before and can't stand the string... what could possibly go wrong? Well I've just cast on for the fourth time. Watch this space...

Regarding books for Yarn Along this week, I'm still struggling with Jefferey Eugenides' The Marriage Plot and its lack of chapters. But someone in my book group back in Scotland just chose I don't know how she does it by Allison Pearson, which looks like a nice bit of light (hopefully chapter-full) holiday reading. I think I'd better save it for the airplane, because I've really got to get this tax return done.

Happy St Andrew's Day quines.

small chocolate nemesis

An affirming sort of thing happened this week.

One rainy afternoon, while twiddling about on the computer instead of paying my daughter the undivided attention she deserves, some music started to play. I was wrapped up in woeful confusion at not understanding a word of this blog tutorial, when I realised that The Boss (not normally a spontaneous dancer) was twirling, swirling and pogo-ing around the room to the soundtrack. She asked me to play it again and again and again. Dancing to YouTube was on the agenda the following day, and the next. Pretty soon, we were all at it.

Unable to find the tracks on iTunes, I figured there'd be no harm in emailing the musician to see if he could help me out. And within 48 hours he had replied, attaching ten of his songs to a generous and genuine email. In his words "I share all this in the hopes that (if you dig it, of course), you'll share it with others."

This ranked pretty highly on my random-act-of-kindness scale, higher still because it was a kindness directed towards my progeny, and all parents have a fondness for that. So, in the spirit of spreading the warmth I urge you to go over and check out Allen Cote's website and buy a few of his lovely tracks (some are on iTunes with more to follow I'm sure). His will be the soundtrack to our winter.

And so it was the soundtrack to our latest self-imposed random recipe evening (our official random recipe post for November is here, but we're nerds and try to cook randomly more often than Dom requests, because it's fun). My husband instigated another bizarre and unfathomable system for selecting the recipe. Somehow it involved me choosing lots of numbers (I still don't know how they featured in the selection process) and him hiding recipe books in loads of drawers. Don't ask.

The recipe in question needs a little introduction: years ago, in the halcyon days of lissome youth (aka the early 2000s), when we worked too hard to enjoy life as much as we should have, there was a recipe. A recipe that filled domestic hearts with fear, and newspaper columns with adjectives like unfeasible, infamous and disastrous. It was the River Cafe's Chocolate Nemesis from the River Cafe Cookbook. The stir it caused is described in this article by Julian Barnes much better that I ever could  (hardly surprising, him being the Booker prize winner an' a'thing). And as a (further) aside, if you're looking for a stocking filler for the man in your life, Julian Barnes' The Pedant in the Kitchen is a great little book if you can find it.

Anyway, the recipe is the Easy Small Nemesis, from the River Cafe Cookbook Easy (emphasis on the easy, see?). If you're not familiar with the River Cafe, it's probably suffice to say that it was the culinary training ground for Jamie Oliver and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall amongst others. Small Nemesis contains a whole packet of butter, five eggs, four large bars of chocolate and a heap of sugar. It's still not exactly easy (only because at numerous points we felt sure we were headed for a cowpat and that's a bit stressful) but this version of the recipe does actually work.

It's definitely a "grown-up" pudding, so densely rich that the tiniest slice beat me (and I'm blessed with a snout and trotters). And it's certainly a restaurant-y pudding, for reasons that I can't explain in any way other than it doesn't feel like something you'd normally eat at someone's home - certainly not in my home. If you're from a family of fruit-pud haters it would be a seriously impressive alternative at Christmas, especially for nut-/gluten-free households. It ticks all the rich, indulgent, over-the-top boxes that a good Chrissie pud should. And this small version could easily feed twelve. Our neighbours have just moved out, so quite what we're going to do with the remaining ten slices of ours is anyone's guess.

And so, here it is: our nemesis. Because there's nothing like getting a headstart on your Christmas weight gain while dancing to the strains of a distant ukelele.

shades of autumn: finale

All good things must come to an end. The beautiful blogs Bumbles & Light, Live & Love Out Loud and Project Alicia have been hosting a photography challenge based around the shades of autumn. As I've said every week for the past couple of months, at only 70-ish miles from the equator there's no traditional northern hemisphere change in the seasons here in Singapore. I thought this might be an interesting exercise in sharing the shades of a tropical Asian autumn; lush, vibrant and dripping with sweat colour...

And while I haven't been able to indulge in the sumptuous, cosy, enveloping autumn of blazing leaves, pumpkin patches or first frosts, it has certainly been fun showing you around autumn in this part of the world. I've loved the enthusiastic feedback, and I'm so proud to have had a picture chosen each week for the Shades of Autumn Pinterest board. Okay, so I'll admit that I don't really understand Pinterest, but to have been "pinned" feels pretty cool (no... yes... maybe? Fill me in!). What I do know is that the SoA Pinterest board is a seriously beautiful place that I go to often. I commend it to you.

So what to do for the last week of the project? Well, I'll start with my personal challenge winner: this sweet shot, taken at the Marina Barrage here in Singapore, was selected by Rebecca, Alicia and Kristi as one of their top pics of the week for "red" at the end of October.

Now I LOVE that this was recognised by our wonderful hosts, despite its flaws, not least because it's the only photo I included of The Boss during the whole project.

But, maternal pride aside, I think one of my favourite shots of the season was taken back in week one: green week. A torrential thunderstorm had just ended, hence the fallen, dripping frangipane flower. (Yup, it's the one I've tried to make it into a banner; but I know I've still a little work to do there. Hey, I'm no designer... oh, you can tell huh!?)

This flower and these colours and that rain captures Singapore in a nutshell: beautiful, vibrant, and usually wet. It perfectly illustrates this two-year adventure of ours that will soon draw to a close.

Since this project has helped me to see what a beautiful rainbow-coloured city I live in, lets see if we can't make a SoA paint chart for finale week...

And, last but not least, I wanted to show you a sooc picture that didn't fit into any of the colour categories (some of you have seen it before, soz!). Strictly speaking this wasn't taken during the autumn, but I was amazed to have it printed in the October issue of a glossy magazine as a competition runner up - so a photographic success of autumn rather than a shade of autumn! I didn't win a prize or anything like that but it was a major creative ego boost, and I love showing it to anyone who'll sit still for long enough.

 

I'm itching to see what everyone else posts for SoA Finale Week. And in the meantime, for many, many more pictures, drop by my green, yellow, orange, red, purple, brown & white posts from previous weeks!

Thanks for a wonderful project Rebecca, Alicia and Kristi, I've enjoyed every. last. minute. xx

fred and ginger

It's been while since I last knitted a "garment". I haven't been knitting for long, maybe three years on and off, and I'm still big on things that are flat. Simple projects that I don't have to gauge, measure or generally fret over. Rowan Kids' Zooey has reminded me why.

I liken knitting the front panels of a cardigan to learning circus skills. For starters you have to knit your basic pattern. Let's call this the unicycle-riding element. Then the pattern tells you to start shaping an arm hole (keeping your pattern correct). So we've added basic plate spinning while you're up on that unicycle. Now while you're shaping that armhole and keeping your pattern correct, you'll want to make sure you're also creating a beautiful neckline decrease. Because plate spinning on a unicycle is nothing unless you're simultaneously singing mio bambino caro. Oh, and by the way, remember that the basic pattern includes a twenty-stitch lace panel (ie this version of mio bambino caro is in Cantonese).

'Kay? Got that? Feeling fantastically clever after muddling through the left-hand panel? Well, don't get too smug because the edited essence of the next line of instructions reads: 

RIGHT FRONT - Same as left front in reverse.

Let's just pause to contemplate that for a moment... (while I head for the hills, arms waggling and tongue lolling from corner of mouth). It reminds me of a bumper sticker that I saw years ago on a beaten up old Mini in Glasgow. It said something along the lines of "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards and in high heels".

Anyway, after some imaginative cursing and more than a little unpicking, I have all the components of Zooey ready for finishing. She's now wet blocking on the spare bed (precisely following these fabulous instructions from The Yarn Harlot). Phew.

I haven't made much reading progress this week. I have two excuses reasons. The Marriage Plot by Jefferey Eugenides is good so far, but with one pretty significant flaw (in my opinion): a lack of chapters. I don't know if this affects his writing style or my reading style more, but it definitely affects something, and it means I'm getting nowhere fast. The first section is over 100 trade paperback pages long. Blugh, can't be bothered.

Also I've been waiting until after my husband goes to bed to work on his Christmas gifts - a pair of iPhoto hardback albums. The process is totally addictive and so I've been falling into bed long after midnight all week. But I've just pressed the order button on them, and have 5 days to wait for the results... fingers crossed they come out beautifully!

Linking in with the lovely Yarn Alongers once again.

buttons

I am lucky enough to be a stay at home mum. I get to spend all the time in the world with my girl - something that I know many women aren't able to do. I chose this, and I try to value it every day. I have a very generous 15hrs a week to "get stuff done" thanks to a divine local nursery school. But once the daily grocery shopping, cooking, washing and cleaning are finished, that doesn't seem to amount to all that much.

Just occasionally I wish that - by virtue of a paid job, nearby relative, or live-in maid domestic helper (lets not even get into that debate just now) - I could, just once, throw my hands up in the air and sod off to go and do my own thing without a backward glance (...or a quick look down at my watch for the ever-looming school run/babysitter deadline).

I realised last week that there have only been two nights in nearly five years where I have slept away from my daughter. On the one hand, how incredibly lucky am I? (And this hand is definitely the winning hand, I know it holds the top trumps.) But on the other, I felt the need to scream for my lost independence.

But I can't do that because I live in a block of flats and it would've woken the neighbours. How bloody frustrating.

If you've ever felt this way, and you're the parent of a preschooler, I've found a sort-of short-term solution. It's simpler than you would ever have imagined. I can't magic up a childminding granny, a full-time Mrs Mop, or an undemanding morning job in a divine local boutique (aaah dreamy)... I don't have the cash or the work permit to make any of those things happen.

But I can do buttons.

Seriously, if you don't have a tin of buttons, go to your local cheapo craft shop and buy the biggest mixed bargain bag they have. They induce remarkably long periods of contented, educational quiet time, during which I retreat to my room to knit and read. Knitting and reading isn't exactly asserting my independence to the world, but sometimes a bit of peace and quiet is all I need to restore perspective.

And when I start to crave her company again, I can always go and join in with the colour sorting, the threading, the adding, the size grading, the tiddlywinking, the endless mesmerising possibilities...

Buttons.

They've been known to save my day.