Thesis Completion: Just the Beginning

I defended my thesis yesterday. What that means? I can graduate. What it doesn't mean? That my book is done. It needs a few more edits and then its time to start (gulp) looking for an agent, farming out chapters, and possibly applying for book contests, depending on how things go.

I look back at where I was four years ago, when Rane told me about my current program and I applied, and I can't believe where I am. I was struggling to write stories that exceeded five pages then, and I have to really fight to cut enough words to get a short-short below five pages now. It's a good place I'm in, but I'm really still just starting. With talent and a bit of luck, maybe I can push myself the rest of the way.

But for now, at least, I'm in celebration mode. Last night, the man and I went for happy hour at Felice's, a restaurant located in what was once a residence. The bar is on the second floor and has martinis called things like "You can call me Al." The mood music: all the golden oldies my dad loves best. The veggie taco was to die for. It contained, wait for it, barbequed black beans. Great atmosphere. Excellent food. And an impressive bartender. I recommend the place.

This weekend, I'll be tackling more wedding details: talking to the musician, making an appointment to visit the seamstress who will be altering my dress, and knitting more of the veil. It's coming along nicely.

On monday, I hunker down with my thesis committee's comments and start the next round of edits. Next stop, agents.

When a knitter plans a wedding.

My first thought, when I began tackling the wedding plans was this: could I knit the dress? This insanity quickly cooled to a much more reasonable knitting of the veil. Then the hunt began.

I've never knitted lace before, so I was rather anxious to pick just the right pattern, one that would be interesting enough without becoming too difficult for a first time effort. I searched through book after book, page after ravelry page of anything that popped up under the restrictions of "knitting" and "free" and "lace." Finally, it hit me. I'd use one of the earliest patterns I found, a circular shawl pattern meant to replicate a chrysanthemum's petals. 

I'm deconstructing the circular and knitting it back and forth on size eleven wooden needles I inherited from my soon-to-be grandmother-in-law using sport-weight yarn instead of lace-weight. So far I'm happy with the progress. It looks a little wild, but with every few rows, it looks less like the random distribution of cobweb and more like a veil.

Lace. Is it mesmerizing? Not really. Do I get why so many knitters are enthralled with it. Maybe a little. But with every stitch, I'm a little closer to being married, a little nearer to having my family considered complete in the legal sense. And a little closer to having the wedding I didn't get the chance to have the first time around. Not a big thing, just a small, simple homemade affair, something I think this veil will symbolize pretty well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some knitting to do.

Giving up the kitchen reigns.

I can't do everything. There, I said it. I understand it. I accept it. But you know what? I don't want to give up anything either. It's been a hard go of it. I had to bust my butt to finish my thesis ahead of my previous schedule, which I succeeded at. During thesis madness, of course, there was no time for anything. There was work and there was thesis. Sometimes, I saw the light of day. You know, walking from my car to a building or from a building to my car.

Things have calmed a bit, though I feel like I need to be constantly active as I wait for my body's anxiety-state to return to equilibrium. I've been knitting. I've been writing and reading. I've been devastated that PBS replaced my knitting show on wednesdays and sundays with some quilting show. I've been working a lot and making money, which is good, though I don't have a lot of time to spend it, which is good too I suppose. But I miss grocery shopping with my man on tuesdays (which was usually my day off from classes during pre-thesis-hours MFA) and I miss practicing my guitar every day. I miss making food in my kitchen on a frequent basis.

In the time since my last food blog, I have made the following meals:
1. A random chinese stir fry with carrots, broccoli, the tofu my man had already baked, the rice my man had already cooked, and water chestnuts.

2. Spaghetti and meatballs with homemade sauce and frozen meatless meatballs
3... no that's about it.

Meawhile, the man has taken over the kitchen duties. This is no small feat for a carnivore to do when there is a vegetarian in the household, but he's done a pretty stellar job. Last night, for example, he made Moussaka:

Apparently the top there isn't cheese but a mix of egg and yogurt. It was even tasty reheated for lunch this afternoon.

Today, it was the boy's picking night. He picked pizza. By the time I got home, my man had already made the dough (using my favorite recipe and the whole white wheat flour). Usually I hate making the dough, but now that I don't have time to, I miss it. He forgot to buy the toppings, though, so I opted to walk down to the corner grocery town (the pluses of city life are few but this is one of them). It was late spring weather when spring has only just started. The sun was shining, the magnolia trees were in bloom, and no random street hustler tried to sell me anything or beg me for money the entire walk, there and back.

While at the store, I went a little overboard. I picked up the carrots, tomato, and pepper that I came for, but spring has sprung in the supermarket too. The strawberries looked perfect. The zucchini is back in season and looking like warm-weather zucchini instead of that wrinkley way it looks when they sell it in the winter. The portobella mushroom caps were on sale. And because I was getting strawberries, I figured, what the hey? I picked up some shortcake and heavy whipping cream. Sure, I didn't have time to bake shortcake fresh, but the little shells worked out fine. Instead, I put a little energy (and not too much extra time) into making fresh whipped cream.

To make whipped cream:
In a large bowl, whip heavy cream until stiff peaks form. Add a bit of vanilla to taste and about a teaspoon of powdered sugar for every 1/2 cup, more if you want it sugary.

The best shortcake is the first shortcake of the season. 

It's not much, but I made something in that kitchen. It's a start.

Finishing that Thesis

April first. That is my deadline. Twelve chapters, one big revision. One month. And only my evenings are free for writing fiction. My days are for tech writing. I have four chapters done so far.

The thing is, as a mom who has been in college for the entire duration of her son's life, I have gotten really really good at scheduling. I list and I plan and I scheme out my days, to the hour if necessary. I have to, I always have, so I have a schedule in place.

I'll admit, though, that my schedules don't always pan out when it comes to writing. My process is at least fifty percent inspiration, and if it's not working, nothing I write is worth saving. Tonight is one of those nights.

There's so much work left to do and a very limited amount of time, but there's nothing I can do about it tonight. And I am okay with that. For now. I have a few nonfunctioning nights scheduled into my plan.

That Blanket. Yes, THAT one.

I finished it. The family plaid blanket is done.

And I'm never doing another one. Not ever. Even if it does look pretty great. The work is not worth the output. Maybe I could translate it into a potholder pattern. Now that's small enough that I could get behind it.

I also took a break from the blanket insanity to finish Johnny's Go Bro Beanie in time to send it off for his birthday. I tweaked my pattern a bit so that the stripes decreased in thickness as they reach the top of the hat. I love how it turned out.

In other yarny news, I have inherited a box full of knitting and crocheting paraphernalia from my fiance's grandmother. It took a long evening sorting things out but I now own more straight needles than may be considered sane. She was quite crafty in her day. She taught knitting to 4H kids, and when we went through her house a few months back, I found an unfinished afghan by her chair.

The first time I met his grandmother was at the funeral of her only son. She hugged me and told me to take care of her grandson. I think I've done a decent job at it so far, and I'm hoping she went knowing that he would be in good hands. I'll take good care of all the bits and bobs she inadvertently left in my possession too. It's almost like she planned for a yarn-loving granddaughter-in-law.

Yes, by the way, I did say fiance. The wedding is set for June 16th at the chapel of our undergrad alma mater. I have the yarn already purchased for my wedding veil and a few patterns I'm still deciding between. That will be the next project. All others are on hold, due to wedding plans and a thesis that needs to be complete by April.

Somehow, life seems to be coming together, one stitch at a time.

I made breakfast last night.

It happened, the thing I fear above all other things, the thing that sends me screaming to the grocery store when there is no sale on kellogg or General Mills or Kashi. Yes, it happened. I ran out of cereal mid-week.

I considered tearing out my hair. I considered spending my lunch hour at the Dave's downtown running up and down the cereal aisle comparing the prices of various raisin brans. Instead, I got ambitious. I decided to open up my recipe box, flip to the breakfast tab, and get cooking. What I found was a recipe I'd loved from years ago and had promptly forgotten about.

Baked Faux-Toaster Pastries

What you need:

1 c. whole white wheat flour (or 3/4 c whole wheat plus 1/4 c unbleached flour)
1 stick of butter/margarine (or 1/2 c of your favorite butterish alternative)
1/4 c water
Jam (as much or as little as you want but a little goes a long way)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease yourself a jellyroll pan. The jellyroll part is important, because if you are like me and end up overstuffing your pastries in your enthusiasm, you want a rim on the pan on catch any run-away filling.

2. In a small bowl, cut the butter into the flour with a fork. Add the water as you go. It will be a lot like mashing potatoes after awhile. When the flour becomes doughy enough to form a ball, do so and knead it around a bit to make sure there are no large clumps of butter in there. You want it roughly uniform. Separate that one ball of dough into four equal balls.

3. On a floured surface, roll out one of the balls into a rectangle as thick or as thin as you want. On the bottom half of that rectangle, add a thin layer of jam, leaving at lead 1/4th of an inch at the edges clean of jam. I used strawberry for two and blueberry for the other two, but any variety will do. Fold the top half over onto the bottom half. With that same fork from before, crimp the edges of the top half into the edges of the bottom half to seal the pastry. Place the pastry onto the jolly roll pan.

4. Repeat step 3 for the remaining balls of dough. If you, like me, enjoy a variety of jam flavors, remember to give each a distinguishing mark so you can tell which is which, unless, of course, you really like surprises.

5. Bake in the preheated oven for about 12 minutes. My stove takes less time than others, so you might need to put it in longer. They should come out vaguely golden brown. If some of the jam seeps out, because you too are an enthusiastic jam stuffer, fear not. It will come off in the wash.

I used this excellent blueberry jam that has tiny whole blueberries in it for two of mine and your standard Smuckers strawberry for the other two.

Of course, if you, like me, are planning to make these puppies ahead of time, just put them all on a plate with plastic wrap separating each one and pop them in the frig. Then, in the morning, you simply nuke one in the microwave for 45 seconds. Add a drizzle of honey if you like your pop-tarts frosted. Leave plain if you prefer your pop-tarts unfrosted.

These were even better than I remembered them. The jam is sweet but with a taste that just seems less fake-tasting than your boxed toaster pastry, due to the actual fruit content. The other plus, you know how there's those parts at the top and bottom of the pop-tart where there's no filling and the crust tastes, in a word, nasty? Nonexistent in a homemade version. The crust is simple, a little plain even, but it's enjoyable alone. Not that you have to worry. That little bit of jam will find a way to coat everything.

When the voice in your head leaves you (and it's a bad thing)

I am one chapter away from completing the first full draft of my novel. I've been one chapter away from completing the first full draft of my novel since September. You see, I had a brilliant system. I pledged to finish a draft of each chapter before going back to revise, and while what I consider a usual first draft has been revised quite a bit already (I'm an as-I-write-it reviser), that left a lot of work to get to a solid first draft at the end. A lot of time passed me by. I wrote the first chapter for my first workshop class back in 2009, if that provides some scope.

As a result, I've been having a bit of difficulty, despite saving all my workshop notes written by myself and others, in remembering what it was I needed to revise. I puzzled everything back together for eleven stories over the summer, but I haven't been able to get through the twelfth. It's a first person story, you see, and no matter how I reorganize and freewrite and plan, I can't get the narrator's voice back inside my head. For third person or second person, its easy. I write the words and usually, the narrator just ends up sounding a lot like me. When I first a story in first person, though, I do it because I can hear someone speaking to me.

And this lady, I can't hear her anymore. She's just gone.

I'm trying to get her back by writing scenes of her life before the present moment of the story and forcing her to tell me what it was like for her. I'm hoping it works. I'd really like to put this draft to bed, so I can start in on the next one. After all, it has to be done for graduation in the spring.