Friday Favorites: Mugs

One of the quirks I share with my beloved is a love of coffee mugs. He always steals the new mugs to have the first cup of coffee in it. Even if it's girly or silly or dorky. I always whine that he's stealing my new mug...when really it's just the sincerest form of flattery to me. He loves what I love. Mugs. Here are a few gems from my our collection:


A New York City classic, but ceramic!


Bone China from Starbucks, a birthday gift to myself.


The Gossips, by Norman Rockwell.


Tropical mug from Starbucks (around 2007)


Love is in the Coffee Mug


Knit Me a Mug! (again, big Starbucks win)

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Everything I guess.

At one point I thought I was going to be a knitting pattern designer. But I discovered that I enjoyed knitting too much to go down that road. Besides, I'm much happier being spoiled by all of the talented pattern designers that there are out there.

Sometimes I think I could be a pastry chef or bartender "cocktail artist". Still working on that one and having plenty of fun trying.

A fiber artist? Well I think that one lasted for about a day and ended abruptly after staying up all night cleaning up Kool-Aid from my kitchen and un-knotting the 800 yards I just dyed. That was a good time though.

As far as a real trade goes...I think I'll stick closer to home...home being art and design. If I had to decide on one thing to keep my hands busy for the rest of my life, I would go back to what I wanted to do the last semester of my freshman year of college. Just make art.

Until then, I'm having a lot of fun on the journey. Dipping my toes in this and that. Typical process knitter, taster of pastries and cocktails, and recreational spinner of lovely, if slubby, fibers.

1. Saree, 2. Noro Swatch 2, 3. IMG_0698, 4. Sweet colored yarn 2

Some Knitting

Knitting again on the Sock it to Me! sock recipe. This time i added a dash of a slip-stitch rib pattern i picked up in one of my stitch dictionaries. I'm just about to finish turning the heel and can't decide if I want to continue the pattern all the way up, or switch to a good two by two like my trusty hiking socks.

Pretty? Or Functional?

If I go pretty and continue the slip stitch rib (which honestly would be so much more fun) I should finish these off with a picot edge.

I've finished a few things and enhanced the stash since I last blogged. So clearly didn't meet my goals on stash reduction. But doesn't mean I can't try again in 2010. MIght be nice to make more room for life, and have less room for yarn. Wow...never thought I'd hear myself say that.

Welcome (Back) Home

So we lived where Nana Marie lived for a time. Up in the sky in Jersey City with windows we could barely open and a stellar view (of Newark...don't laugh...it was awesome).

Now we live where Grandpa Moore lived. I think even the same street.

We bought this year, which accounts for my utter lack of blogging in the past few months. Most of the real work the house needed was done by professionals, so I can't claim that I've been busy with paint and tools. We've been doing the hard work of, quite simply, enjoying it. Living a life offline. Cooking, watching tv, hiding out from the cold.

We had a sweet little Christmas in our half-done house. I forced myself to put up a tree despite a half-demolished kitchen.

And now I sit and wait by the balcony doors for spring to come, so we can have cocktails outside and overlook the condos that have a better view.

Giving Thanks, 2008

At dawn on Tuesday November 25th, I boarded a plane from Mumbai headed to Cochin to begin the second leg of our trip to Southern India. I had just arrived in Andheri the weekend before and settled in quite nicely to Mumbai.

Mumbai was hot, smelled different than any place I'd ever been, and it wasn't so easy to get around. Lack of sidewalks, paved roads and manageable public transport leaves you at the mercy of private drivers or auto rickshaws. It's hard to be an independent traveler. But, if you've got family in India, it's hard to be independent at all. And quite frankly, not all that appealing anyway.

You just have to embrace being embraced, and that's that.

After landing in Cochin and driving 6 hours up to the mountains of Kerela, we settled in here:


Warm puffy Kerela bread dipped in southern indian curry was a fantastic substitute for turkey and mashed potatoes. Seeing as how this was a once in a lifetime trip, I almost completely forgot about the upcoming holiday that was the fabric of my upbringing. I was a thread in another fabric this time.

When we settled in to sleep that Tuesday night, the only tv we could get was mostly static and what we could hear was Malayalam...which we couldn't understand. The peace and quiet was a nice break from Jersey City...or Mumbai for that matter.

The next morning my sister-in-law's phone was ringing off the hook. The constant ringing of cell phones and door bells is part of the symphony of everyday life in Mumbai. We ignored it and slept. When we finally picked up we heard the vague but shocking news of bomb blasts in the city. Given the internal tensions my husband grew up with in Mumbai, I assumed that's what it was. An isolated bus or car bomb. Never in a million years could I imagine what was really going on.

After the concierge was kind enough to let me use the resort office to email my family, friends and coworkers, I managed to get a hold of the phone numbers I needed to contact my family and let them hear my voice. And describe to them the beautiful scenery and where I stayed nestled for the next few days. Paradise. They shouldn't worry and they should stop watching the news. My mother-in-law, who struggles to speak English clearly, managed to tell me "Don't be afraid."

We spent the next three days touring the tea plantations in Kerela and cruising on a houseboat in the backwaters. We enjoyed our vacation quietly, not forgetting for one minute what was happening, but soaking in every moment at the same time. And when we boarded our flight from Cochin to Mumbai on November 29th, we watched a local news station report that the crisis was over.

Fortunate, lucky, blessed. Thankful!

So, we left Mumbai three days early. We headed for the airport with the entire family. That's just how it's done in India. A caravan of 3 tiny cars followed us right to the terminal to give us hugs and kisses, laugh and cry with us, wish us well and shower us with blessings.

We were embraced.

I feel profoundly sad for what happened. I never really saw media coverage of these events. A few news clips here and there, some articles in the Indian newspapers. All it took to get the gravity of what happened, was to get to know the people of India. It took a trip around the world to really get the whole concept of giving thanks and embracing one's roots, one's family. We do it every year here in the states.

In India, they do it every day.