This week I have had an obsession with sparkle and glitter, but it’s that time of year. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be in a winter wonderland of snow wearing this drop dead gorgeous dress, and a wrap to keep you warm of course. The dress makes me swoon. I only wish I knew where I found the picture of it.

Flim35,  B Splendid Blog, Gentle Pure Space, jung_n_freud via flickr

 
A while ago I gave my friend Melissa a wand I had made.   She must have it sitting on her desk at work.  Someone saw Melissa’s wand and wanted one for herself.  Melissa asked if she could come over and do some wand-making with me.  I knew that wands take a bit of prep, so I started the preparation without her.

I started prepping and decided to finish a few wands just in case we run out of time before Melissa finishes her wands.

Magic always starts with a stick. I collect all kinds of sticks that have fallen from our trees. It’s important to select sticks that have had some time to dry. I used my cute pink Tomboy hacksaw to cut my sticks.

If you want your wand to be truly magical, you have to add the good stuff. I use genuine Swarovski crystal beads for the tip of my wands. I add a bead cap to beautify the tip of my wand and a spacer at the top to embellish the crystal bead at the top.

I’ve been known to use cord and other types of string or thread for the handle of my wands. My favorite material though is embroidery thread.

The wand just doesn’t seem complete unless it has a lot of sparkle. I liberally sprinkle (not literally) Swarovski crystal rhinestones on my wands.

When I was a child, Christmas was magical.   As I grew older and had children of my own, I felt rushed and pressured every Christmas.  Over the last few years, I decided that I needed to relax.   I thought if I could make other people feel happy and joyful during the holiday then I could surround myself with a lot of peace and joy.    Although I originally made these wands in the spring, I believe that maybe Christmas is the best time for wands.  With a flick of your wand you can bring back the magic and true spirit of Christmas.

Here’s to a little magic this holiday season!

All poetry by pyrit is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at pyrits.wordpress.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://pyrits.wordpress.com/ .

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Further poems to be added Soon

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( By Jove, I think she’s got a kiddie poem … )

Mouse at Christmas

I’m a mouse at Christmas, Merry Ho Ho

I’m sliding down a snowman’s nose

Landing softly in the snow

Making snow angels

And snow balls to throw.

I’m a mouse at Christmas, Joy To You

I’m decorating my igloo

Tiny lights, green and blue

Trimmed with icicles

Holly berries too.

I’m a mouse at Christmas, Happy Noel

I am singing Jingle Bells

While I sled in a walnut shell

Snow tubing in a donut

Now that would be swell.

I’m a mouse at Christmas, Glory Be

I’m climbing up a Christmas tree

My most favorite sight to see

So Merry Christmas to you

And have as much fun as me.

~

Where Could Color Go?

Sunbeam swordplay.

Duels at dawn with spires,

Advancing against rooftops,

Lunging through windows,

Engaging our rooms,

Radiance assumes the stance.

Chambers are at daggers drawn,

The grande chasse’ is on.

Solar scissoring blades,

Dazzling forays,

The fabric of our life attacked,

Swank fades to blank.

Steadfast dyes defeated.

True colors retreat.

But where could color go?

.

Twilight trickery.

Shady lady under dim lights,

Donning evening gloves,

Spinning a pearl ring,

Blowing smouldering puffs,

Darkness bluffs her way.

Wink and a whisper until dawn,

The witching hour is on.

How the night is needy,

In order to reign supreme,

Keeping colors in the great unknown,

Until her masquerade is blown,

Upon the dawn’s rescuing blush.

Night surrenders as she must.

But where did color go?

(end part 2; what’s washed up. more on the next tide)

~

The Little Woodstove

The little woodstove, my winter witness, sits still.
Silently awaits, the ritual.
I lift the lid, whisk the cinders, bow to ashes’ grace.
Gray ghosts, silver spirits,
Billow upward in my face.

The little woodstove, with brittle windows winking.
What mischief it is thinking.
This is its folly, its whim, its chilling satire.
I know I’m no match for it,
And the riddle of silly old fire.

~

Penance

A writer’s whispered fingertips,

Scribbling, murmuring lips.

Uncoiling black wild

Ink over vellum child.

Sea swell, sinking spell

Betwixt the pen and the well.

All aboard wordsmanship,

Worthy maiden trip.

Chase flocks of birds,

Let fly bony spurs.

Sea swell, sinking spell

Betwixt the pen and the well.

A day’s reach island,

Ever bound horizon.

Turn of tide choke,

Press upon English oak.

Sea swell, sinking spell

Betwixt the pen and the well.

Ropes of prose

Hoist the odes.

Braided refrain,

A writer begins again.

Sea swell, sinking spell

Betwixt the pen and the well.

~

Brrr-lesque

All a rainbow once was the garden.
Too soon Autumn hissed, “Prithee I beg your pardon.
Time to rustle up my harvest palette,
Splatter flames on sylvan silhouettes.
Arbor Day greens are my Halloween red,
I cast fire to ash and they fall down dead.”
Whorling potpourri tumbles ‘round in alleys.
Winds race freely through wizened valleys.

~

Deja June

~

Compass Rose

More than not
We are lost.
For all our
Navigating,
Undulating,
Deviating.
After
What was it anyway,
Something shiny.
Something beautiful.
Something over here,
Or, over there.
On behalf of
The chase,
It is good to know,
Dragonflies
Finish the invisible maze.
Snail trails
Paint a silver rose.
Zebra stripes
Are as close as your fingertip,
And no two are the same.

~

Irish Enough For Spring

If spring is your thing
There’s a land of weather
Softened by heather,
Where dreamy drizzle
Tickles the whimsical
Fancy feather.

Where spring’s a lucky ring
Of gold whin in Wicklow
And dear shamrocks grow,
Down to Bantry Bay
Up around Lough Neagh
And over Hillsborough.

Spring’s always in full swing
And the sun doesn’t glare
At so much green where
Mere ribbons of gilting
Upon rivers lilting
Brighten grassy glens so fair.

What were we discussing?
Sweet brambly patch jams,
Evergreen pastures full of lambs,
Dandelions, and salmon runs swift,
Fresh fields of clover adrift…
Is it spring flowing from my pen in hand?
Or, is it Ireland?

~

Poise

Our vernal pools,

Filling up desiccated depressions.

Our temporary housing.

Compensation,

Restoration.

Our vertebral pillar,

Rising up unparalyzed by evil‘s sway.

Our demons make peace.

Equilibrium,

Sanctum sanctorum.

Our vineyard pearls,

Instilling up desolated teardrops.

Our tendril-hold on the stem.

Diluent,

Abluent.

Our volta partners,

Lifting up the floor of collapsed hearts.

Our resuscitation.

One, two, three,

One, two, three…

~

I Went Fishing

I went fishing, a-fishing I did go

I went down to the deep fishing hole

I fished water the sun doesn’t know

I’m going back, is good for my soul

I’ll go fishing, and reel it in slow.

~

Spring To Life

I cannot begin to tell, how surprised I was,
When I kicked off my black boots
And away they flew, up and over, into the sky,
Taking wing, with a ragtag flock of crows.

Or the time when, to my amazement,
My sugar-coated chocolate donut got up from the plate,
Standing on dark, strong stallion legs
And shook powder-white snow from its rump.

Oh my, and that was not all,
I’ll never forget the frozen lake’s April thaw,
The last three icebergs woke up,
Flapped great bright wings, swanned around, tails waggling.

Now, perhaps, who knows, maybe
Sunlight will replace oxygen,
And I will breathe a sigh of re-leaf,
How rite of spring that would be.

~

Buttermilk

Tulips cupping the sun,
Resourceful as buttermilk.

Lightsome laundry drip drying,
Salubrious as full udders.

Under diaphanous presumption;
Sure the world will turn, turn, turn,
And not fritter away.
A faith, based on probability.

Bees buzzing the hive,
Busy as a church on Sunday.

Robed keeper’s smoke purifying,
Virtuous as a patchwork quilt.

Under immaculate persuasion;
Sure the world will burn, burn, burn,
And the colony collapse.
A view, based on belief.

Druids humming the renewal,
Buoyant as a gesture.

Haunted cygnets hue and crying,
Subtle as poets in the pub.

Under eloquent perceptions;
Sure the world will learn, learn, learn,
And blush with youth.
A trust, based on how the sun and moon sew the days together and the light of spring reveals a hole opened up in the Universe.

~

Shazam

Lulling rain
Flow and wane
Drizzling window
Lazy wind blow
Distant rumble
Gray and humble
Storm of no note
Well known by rote
Go on about
Matters without
Not a notice
Small storm as this
Carry onward
Toiling forward
Just keep going
Never knowing
What each minute
May have in it
Tarry among
Each tick’s short run
Until the time
Stops on a dime
A tick so long
Your life’s by gone
A trice, a wink
A flash, a blink
A flash so bright
A flash of might
Out of the gray
Some rainy day.

~

The Witch’s New Cat

The witch’s new cat got into the wands, while the witch was gone away.
Atop a shelf in the witch’s kitchen, the wands for years had laid.
Returning to find the wands in bits the witch was quite dismayed.
But the crumbs on the floor were small compared,
to the marvel the cat had made.

Magically, to the feline’s fortune, now the wand was in the cat.
Happy to be a vessel for spells, what tricks were dabbled at.
The earth moved, the skies shook, mountain tops fell flat.

The dust settled on a better world and the cat was pleased at that.

With one flick of its tail a fleet of shrimp trawlers washed up from the sea.
A herd of heifers, landed down from the Alps with a lifetime of milk for free.
Peacocks of India soon appeared, then trampolines under every tree.
By the time the witch got home, the cat had the most enchanting jubilee.

Now the witch thought, this all was alright, nothing has truly gone awry.
There was no keeping the wands any safer, for a cat no shelf is too high.
As soon as enough shrimp is devoured and the milk is lapped, oh my,
The cat will have the wand out of its system,
after a little more time goes by.

~

Courtyards

Each epiphany a kiss on the head from an angel;
Ephemeral divinity.

Each roof valley snow a peace dove’s wingfeather,
Silently landed.

Each stag’s forehead a throne for his constellation;
Celestial temple.

All worries are mice loose about the pantry,
Endlessly trying.

All thoughts are folded notes stuffed in pockets;
Laundering debris.

All joys are dogs bowriding a car window,
Speedily wondrous.

Every day, a sequoia seedling.

Every archway, a courtyard kneeling.

Poetry is catching a whale in a thimble.

And I, as much as the next wanderer, am happy to see another’s footsteps in the stardust.

~

Icing

Silky slick shishes
Silvery slicing sliders
Slippery swishes

~

Great White

~

Once Upon a Willow

When a willow is not a willow,
When you set your head on grassy pillow.
Looking up from down under,
Filling up full of wonder.
Circle time.

Sagely robed shaman.
Tassle shawled conjure woman.
Broody braids summon the pond.
Lady of the Lake’s wand,
Weeping.

Green seine sunbeam angler.
Fishtailing lure dangler.
Trolling tentacles drift and reel.
Dripping eels,
Hanging out to dry.

Kelly plunging parachute.
Rapelling ropes to trunk’s loot.
Shoots guard tall castle’s keep,
While roots swallow the army jeep.
Battle grounds.

Viridian boughs let Ophelia drown.
Girdle and sashes for Sir Gawan.
Laundry line for Tinkerbells’ tights.
Anne’s Green Gables bright.
Castles in the sky.

Olive-eyed Hydra dragon.
Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Siren lyres in babbling eddies.
Pantheon of divine deities.
Ancient wonder.

Chartreuse pouring elixir streams,
Absinthe vapors eliciting dreams.
Catkins catnapping in raffia baskets,
Twiglet flutes whistling tunes fantastic.
Will o’ the wisp.

Emerald City of Oz,
Wind in the Willows,
Robin Hood’s Sherwood Forest and
Peter Pan’s Never-Never Land.
Tall tales.

~

Let Us Winter

~

Gossamer has a way of slipping into the elevator as the doors are closing, making them jump back open.
Gossamer has a way of brushing against my hair, making me jump.
Gossamer has a way of riding in my coattails.
Smoke without ash.
Water without wet.
Energy without pulse.
The essence of absence of substance.
The mirror of vapor of phosphor.
The magnetism of wisdom of phantasm.
Valence.
Gossamer has a way of entertaining the cat.

~

Autumn’s Whiskers

Autumn wind is a daft cat,

Batting leaves across the ground,
Chasing its tail around and around,
Hunting beasties that are still awake,
Thirstily lapping the waters of the lake,
Climbing up high to the tops of trees,
Rubbing against sails o’er New England seas,
Napping in bright harvest sun,
Prowling streets when pumpkin moon is hung,
Purring ’round windows on a grey rainy day,

Nine lives blowing away.

~

Castine

Mine drear mortal, wat’re ye at?
Imp, she turn thee a carrot.
Tay Oth Othra Tay Rat.
At once, yea, a carrot.

Bite yer tongue, nor lurk ‘er bothy.
She brew dodgy cauldron brothy.
Dun Mull Mully Dun Frothy.
At once, yea, a mothy.

Spindly talons twiddle,
Shredded mutters, jiggered drivel,
Swindly eye giblets yer middle.
Beware, awfy twinge afore ye shrivel.

Wat slips fast as ‘er fleas,
A sklithery smell o’ wet weasels.
A bugaboo, hissing heebeejeebles.
A snit, lo, it spit wyrde diseases.

Hark yon huddle, chinwagging the witch.
Sulfur trails ‘er flying switch!
Spells spangle fro ‘er nervy twitch!
‘Ow they run dare she scratch an itch.

Sure that’s how she capers a livin’.
Witch’s wages fer others’ biddin’.
When trouble be on their head sittin’,
She ‘as ways o’ trouble riddin‘.

If’n a laddy does be kissin’ a shrew,
Shouldst a lassie thirst blackest pool,
Should e’er hap summerly snew,
‘Ol witch ‘as earned quare bob or two.

Double crossed hearts, bedeviled faces,
Be sneakin’ shadow like to ‘er place.
Silver chink or poison toads they pays,
‘Til victim’s spell soon betrays.

Dimwits, kings, an’ worrywarts curtsy.
Bring ‘er they strifes an’ beg ‘er mercy.
Sure, but naught ever once you, curiously.
Bah! That’s a fine how do you do fer sorcery.

Summat strange afoot now, alack…..
Mind, the cheek off you‘s due a payback.
Ye best apologise fer yer wisecracks.
Or she’ll go away,
An’ ne’er come back.

Why, ye look ghostly gobsmacked.
‘Ave I spoilt yer bletherin’ craic?
Yea, ye can’t git blacker than black.
Thee just may need ’er one day matter o’ fact.
Only to find ‘er empty shack,
If she goes away,
An’ ne’er come back.

~

Beetle Tea

Roll low, soft stones, trundle brushed colors

Cloak a hummock throne round a gargling crower

Mull over heavy fruit in foggy groves

As dewey pools sweeten buried troves.

Roll by, soft stones, send sprays to windowsills

Send tree faces; Picassos, Raphaels, over the hills

Leave bare veins, and sweet sap within, to stand still

Wildly flatter Mother Nature’s will.

Roll on, soft stones, spread bewildered view

This bleary mist, this autumn we fall into

Sullied, to dwell, by fire’s trial true

Shake out the old, shake out the new.

~

Frog Prince Big Mouth Spring Serenade

Presently frogs galore,
Ribbiting the woods o’er.
Alien harmonious din
Of the wooing amphibian.
With gregarious air
Leaps of love declared.
Midnight peeper duets,
Bufo Romeo & Juliets.
Broadly banjoing toads
Proposing as spring bodes.
Portly courtiers sprawl,
Beady eyes, warts and all.
Each chirp, grand croak,
‘Jug o’ rum’ under nights’ cloak.

~

Corvid Corsairs

Give me that beady black eye,
Humour me with a reply
Cawing at Crows is what I do
Luckily I live on an acre or two
Our chats are ours and ours alone
No one’s calling cops on the phone
Recently I heard a rumour of a sort
That Rooks have been observed holding court
Taking a member of their flock to task
What impossibly is an offense to a Rook I ask?
The Corvid family are a rowdy bunch sure
A gregarious, intelligent, social creature
Bossy, saucy Blue Jays
Charcoal Crows in Oxford grays
Thieving, theatrical Magpies
Regal Raven splendidly wise
Solving problems, making tools
High in the sky in flight duels
They are self aware, they know they are black
They use the shadows to avoid attack
Their children play games, King of the Mountain,
Follow the Leader and Pebbles in the Fountain
They remember everything like a recorder
They live a complicated social order
Mating for life, truly honorable birds
Compared to them, these are empty words.

As a kid I cawed at Crows. Cawing at Crows is what I do. Luckily, I live on 4 1/2 acres.
Our conversations are private.
When Crows attack a predator it is called mobbing. A flock of Crows used to be called a murder. A flock of Ravens used to be called an unkindness. Ravens are the largest Corvid, growing to 27″ and weighing up to 3 1/2 pounds. The Raven is the smartest bird of all birds with intelligence equal to a dog’s. The Crow and Raven do not mix at all. Crows will mob Ravens. There are 120 Corvids worldwide.

From Aesop’s Fables to mythology,
Literature, pop culture to the Bible
Corvid’s claim on fame is justifiable.

~

Fall Femme Fatale

Geese, geese and more geese
On autumn wind shall meet and meet again
And leave into the wind
Lemmings of leaves, milkweed faeries
Mourning cloak over aster
Lowland coveys roost
No modern day can quell
That witch they know so well

Stars, stars, and more stars
Orion hunting, hunting beside the moon
Seven Sisters nightly teasing
Black cherries ripe and falling
Acorns for thieving
Filling raven’s throats, tree hollow caches
No modern day can quell
That witch they know so well

Long shadows and longer nights
To hibernate or to hunger long
Now is the time to choose
Bales, harvests, firewood
Woolly worms amble out
Spiders wait for dead, hanging by a thread
No modern day can quell
That witch they know so well

White chittering whispers
Icicle fingers
Cold, cold, age-old spinning skirts
No modern day can quell
This witch we think we know so well.

~

Alluvionnet

Pitch black cliff edge, the airy break tempts weight
Where crags torn to pebbles are slip and loose,
Whose downfall be a rocky broken truce
Beware the blade, so dear, cuts clay to slates
Failing yet legends to fall to their fate.
But this isn’t how a life wants to lose
Uprooted, windblown, nowhere left to choose.
Behind, only shale, below, grievance great
Facing odd options, scrabble or abyss
Standing low, as the oak before the scree
For the peaceful hero it comes to this
Resting on sands of time, left to debris.
Only water enjoys a dark cascade
So pour pure water which we all are made.

~

Get Lost

Lost gets a bad rap. Justifiably.
Being lost in a hedge maze is the antidote. It is nirvana. Like innocence.

In your memory, go back to the Time of Wonder.

Maybe you never left. Even better.

Proceed with great confidence! THIS is the way!
Run, don’t walk, down the path less taken.
Laugh heartily at the nay-sayers!
And there are nay sayers a plenty! (Ha!)
Onward ho!
Bam. Dead end.
Waaaaiiitaminit. Stop. Hold on. Wait I said.
Ehn?
What you thought was true is false.
Look up at your predecessors, who are wiser, watching, laughing, with great gaiety, at your demise.
You laugh too.
They know the way you need to go.
But they can’t tell you. You must find the way yourself.
You meet others who are lost, with stupid grins. Ha! It is divine to be lost together. Good humanhood.
They go their way. You make your own way.
Now, just hang on would you, I’ve been ’round that corner at least 5 times!
Laughing. Oh this is joy.
Hope springs eternal.
“You’re gonna make it after all.”
Oops. You thought for sure!
How could you be wrong? Again?
Others try to cheat; peek over the top, squeeze through the hedge. Not me man.
It’s no fun when you cheat.
Your head is spinning but the grand finale beckons.
Turn, turn, turn.
Aw I do not believe it! (Choruses of golden angels)
No! Way! That was it?!
Welcoming arms, celebratory hugs, ring the bell.
I DID IT!
It was great, like tewtally.
Ha! Pats on the back all around.
Soon, cracking up at the ones down in the maze.
Cheer them on, or, toy with them! What fun.
But it really is about the journey.
And, in a hedge maze, you get to start all over.

~

I used to be http://pyrit.vox.com/

In einer extrem dunklen Kirche irgendwo in Deutschland.

Wo: Deutschland
Wann: ?
Kamera: ?

Mit Liebe aus der Suppenküche

<click>

Aus Lizchens Suppenküche “Soup to Go” kommt diesmal das Montagsrezept der preiswerten 1Euro-Gerichte.Ich liebe Suppen ohnehin. Sie gehören auch zu den Gerichten, die aus der Serie “Anwalt’s Rezept” nicht wegzudenken sind. Nicht nur, weil

sie allesamt in der Büroküche und nicht nur in der Cucina hier zubereitet wurden und werden. Das heutige Rezept können Sie sich auch einfach ausdrucken lassen, da ich es u.a. hier bei BonGusto veröffentlicht habe.  Und da ich jüngst von einer realen Gastro-Inhaberin einer Suppenküche danach gefragt wurde, die wissen wollte, ob man meine Suppen-Rezepte auch gedruckt bekommen könne für die Wanddeko in ihrem Bistro: Ja, klar, gern. Das Motiv ist natürlich wie alle Arbeiten nicht nur als RFL/RM sondern auch in diversen Prints verfügbar. Hier zB. Wie auch andere Motive.

Für 4 Personen

1 Stange(n) Salatgurke

120 g Speck

4 TL Frischkäse

250 ml Gemüsebrühe

250 ml Milch

I am fortunate enough to be both a mother and a daughter. This is what I’ve learned so far…

Your mother is supposed to love you unconditionally.

As a daughter, you have to make your mother absolutely miserable so she can prove that she loves you unconditionally.

Your mother is supposed to be wise beyond measure, so that you can draw from her experience.

As a daughter, you have to make as many impulsive decisions as possible, so that you will have a rich bank of wisdom for your own daughter later.

Your mother is supposed to lay down her life, if necessary, to protect you from the Boogey Man.

As a daughter, you are obligated to date at least one Boogey Man, just to test the depth of your mother’s devotion.

When my daughter was only 8, she put in place her first installment of mother-daughter testing material. We went shopping one day near Halloween, and she bought a magic wand at the toy store. Over lunch, this sweet little urchin said to me, “Mom, I’m going to change you into something, but I can’t think of anything awful enough yet.”

“Well,” I said, “Let me at least give you some advice first. Just for your own sake, whatever you turn me into had better be able to drive a car and to generate revenue.”

“What’s rev-in-ewww?”
“Money.”
“Oh. Good idea.”

She turned me into a witch because she figured that witches can’t drive but they can fly, and they can conjure up rev-in-ewww. Also she said that I wouldn’t need a costume.

Foto vergrößern.

It has been probably the most crazy week of my pregnancy. Have I mentioned that I have a strong dislike of the medical field? If you havent heard it from me yet, you’ll hear it now! But it was also an exciting week, getting to find out the sex of our baby.

I had a clinic appointment last Thursday. My mom came with me, and they took medical history from me, and directed me to get an ultrasound before my next clinic appointment 4 days later. Stress!! I was very hard trying to figure out insurances and locations and times. But finally got an appointment for the next day. I had to have a full bladder for the ultrasound, and was nervous about this because of a bad experience last July.

(I should perhaps explain that last July I had a miscarriage of a 6 week pregnancy. I ended up going to the ER, where they refused to take me in the adult ER because I was not yet 21…even though my 21st birthday was 3 weeks away, and was having a miscarriage. So I was taken to the children’s ER, where I got to stare at WonderDog on my ceiling and listen to screaming children with broken bones and illnesses while I was losing my own child. A student nurse tried to take my blood ten times in one arm [not an exaggeration], and tried again in the next. Blood was everywhere, and finally the regular nurse took over. I know now to say that NO, you may NOT practice on me. But anyway, after nearly vomiting and passing out from blood loss and dehydration and pain, they got the needle in and blood out. They wanted me to have a full bladder, and gave me 2 huge bags of IV fluid plus a ton of drinking water. By the time of bladder was full, it was so full I couldn’t even lie down. And of course, the technician wasn’t ready. And on top of it all, every nurse treated me like a child with an illegitimate pregnancy, even though my husband was right there. Forgive me, if this is too much information, but I now know which ER I will NEVER set foot in again.)

So needless to say, I was a little nervous about the whole “full-bladder” thing. But I was fine! The ultrasound technicians were great in this hospital, and I really enjoyed the experience. When the technician stopped moving the wand, I could see my baby move on its own and open and close its little hand! Oh, it was amazing. And! We got to find out that it is a BOY! I was shocked to hear this, I must admit. I thought for sure it was a girl (still not sure why, maybe because I have been so sick). I was shocked, but still happy. It was the strangest feeling! But as the days have passed, I get even more excited knowing that it is a boy. I am so excited to meet him.

And so today was my appointment with the clinic doctor. Eric came with me, and I met with a nurse, and then got examined by a doctor. She was so kind that my nervousness about this part soon passed. And then…the dreaded bloodwork!! I felt so lightheaded even thinking about it!! But Eric had explained to the nurse beforehand about my painful experience; and she took me by the arm and said, “Honey, I’ve been doing this for 18 years!” She was so funny and kind and reassuring. And then Eric and another nurse had a conversation that I tried like mad to listen to while she drew blood. It was uncomfortable, but not painful! She was right!

All in all, I am glad that all of this is over. It has been so busy and confusing. But I got to see my little boy, and know that he is a healthy size and weight, and that everything looks good. And this helps me feel better.

Hi folks. I know, after three huge posts, another one about this is definitely too much. But  for completeness sake, I just have to do it.

What motivated the whole immersion subject was my interest in Project Natal. So that’s what I mentioned every time I talked about it. But it wouldn’t be right to neglect other efforts on the same field. My curiosity about Project Natal made me take a closer look into both the new PS3 motion controller and the already released Wii MotionPlus. Although they have a different concept, Natal being controller free and the others being wand based, all of them try to achieve the same goal, which is to increase immersion by either making controls more transparent or more engaging.

I think the philosophical prize has to go to Microsoft, not using controllers is the ultimate goal. But it is unquestionable that the wand makes some things much easier, specially for hardcore games. Pointing things, be they pens or guns, and swinging objects, golf clubs or swords, are part of a huge segment of games. And the mechanic is easier to simulate with a wand (although not impossible without it I must say).

I can actually see them going in different directions with each technology. No matter how they fight for controller supremacy, the winners are the players.

See you space cowboys…

so ladies and gentlebens the hands down prize winner of most tactile, beautiful, fetishy, hand crafted musical object of the year goes to….. people in a position to know.

*applause*

so apart from releasing wand’s born bad, one of my top ten records of the whole goddam year (dunno if i can i be arsed writing some form of list cliché this annus) he’s only bashed out a hundred of these mad buggering things.

it’s almost ridiculous how hand-made this is. let’s start with the record:

8″ square record on clear vinyl. lathe cut. i’m assuming it was personally carved by peter king (lord of the lathes) all the ways over in new zealand. using unicorn horn. then gently carried over continents by the breeze from flapped angel wings.

and the sleeve:

well firstly sleeve’s a bit of a misnomer. it’s more of a book. somewhere between the necronomicon from evil dead and john doe’s notebooks from se7en. without the satanism and serial killings. obviously. nah. it’s a thing of genuine honest to god personally crafted loveliness. the square shaped lathe (clear vinyl no less) is mounted under a thick hand-cut faux-wood lino cover (with handpainted logo). the pages inside (lyrics, scribbles etpetercetera) are painted, printed and/or silkscreened onto x-ray sheets. it’s all bound together with leather strapping. possibly hewn from the sandles of plato himself. possibly.

lots of hands involved anyway. or maybe four. it took (he claims) over 120 man hours to produce. for this dedication to your art (and it is art fella), for your fulltime unpaid second job hobby, for your singlebloodyminded obsession to putting out this wonderful shit, mike dixon i offer you my staunchly hetero man love. and sometimes my hard(barely)earned cash. thank you sir.

limited to a hundred if you can dig one up from somewhere. i got in early and pre-ordered fools. volcanic tongue are holding i heard…

oh yeah you also get four songs from james jackson toth aka wooden wand aka wand. recorded at various places, stretching out over the past decade, covering his lo-fi classic rock country jams and a demo for beatles and stones (from the recent jescos seven incher).

tops!

myspace / people in a position to know / the jescos

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I found this cool solution.

http://operawiki.info/PowerButtons#retrievewand

a) Add a javascript-based button to your toolbar.
b) Navigate to the site, where you want to retrieve your wand password.
c) Click the button (from step a) and an alert-window will show you the desired password.

jetzt wo die auflösung da ist, kann ich euch auch dieses bild zeigen:

hier ist die auflösung zu was ist das? – III :

es ist die fassade eines einkaufszentrums. früher wechselte noch die farbe, gestern zumindest aber leider nicht. aber das blau erklärt den farbverlauf hier.

ich würde sagen, der punkt geht an lilo. aber ihr wart alle schön kreativ

Apfelstrudel

Im Angebot sind, wie der Blick in die Werbebeilagen am Wochenende in der Sonntagszeitung und im Briefkasten zeigte,  hier  heute bzw diese Woche  Äpfel, 3kg Kiste 1,49 Euro. Sie

bekommen keine Werbebeilagen und wollen die auch nicht? Bookmarken Sie sich doch einfach ein paar geeignete Websites der Lebensmittelläden,  bei denen Sie gern einkaufen, sie haben inzwischen fast alle welche und manche, wie die  gennante Website sind  durchaus praktisch eingerichtet, weil Sie den nächsten Markt per PLZ finden und dort dann auch die Angebote anzeigen lassen können.

Während man früher für den Strudel bei uns sehr gern Boskop nahm, sind heute Elstar, Golden Delicious, Pink Lady, Cox Orange etc beliebter. Das Wochenangebot ist ideal für einen Strudeltag bei den Montagsgerichten aus der Serie der 1Euro-Rezepte. Von dieser Kiste werden für das folgende Rezept nur 2kg benötigt, so dass auch noch frische Äpfel für den Rest der Woche zum Naschen bleiben.

Die folgenden Rezeptangaben sind für 6 Personen bemessen:

Strudelteig:

375 g Mehl

1 nur sehr leicht gehäufter Tl Salz

3 El Öl oder flüssige Butter

knapp 1/4 l lauwarmes Wasser

Aus diesen Zutaten einen Teig herstellen, in Folie gehüllt mindestens 30 Minuten ruhen lassen.

Inzwischen die Füllung vorbereiten:

2 kg Äpfel

1 Tl Zimt

Saft einer halben Zitrone

Abrieb einer halben Zitrone

200 g Schmand

150 g Zucker (gern auch Rohrohrzucker)

100 g in Rum eingeweichte Rosinen

100 g flüssige Butter

1/4 l Milch zum Begiessen

etwas Butter zum Ausbuttern des  Bratreindls

Äpfel schälen, vierteln, entkernen und in Scheiben schneiden oder hobeln. (Wenn Sie’s wie ich machen wollen, wenn es gelegentlich schnell gehen soll: Äpfel schälen, mit dem Kernausstecher den Apfelbutzen ausstechen, Apfel halbieren und über den Hobel Scheibchen schnibbeln)

Sofort mit Zitrone, Zimtzucker, Zitronenabrieb, Rosinen vermischen, 10 Minuten ziehen lassen und dann den Schmand unterrühren.

Dann den Strudelteig portionsweise zu Strudelteigflächen für die Füllungen ausrollen und ziehen.  Diese dann auf bemehlter Fläche erst mit dem Nudelholz ausrollen und dann auf  frischem und leicht mit Mehl betäubtem  Linnen (Geschirrtuch zB)  noch ausrollen und dann über den Händen dehnen und ausziehen. Das geht am leichtesten, wenn man ihn über dem einen Handrücken gelegt und hängend mit der anderen Hand dreht, dehnt, und mit dem Handrücken dabei unter dem Teigstück auch mit dehnt, während die andere Hand ihn hält oder behutsam nach aussen zieht, bis er ohne zu reissen hauchdünn ist. Wie es so schön heisst: am besten ist er, wenn man durch den Teig die Zeitung lesen könnte.

Teig dann auf dem Tuch auslegen, mit der zerlassenen Butter bestreichen und die Fülle auf den Teig verteilen, dabei einen Rand von 3-5 cm lassen. Von den Seiten den Teigrand nach innen über die Füllung schlagen und dann mit Hilfe des Tuchs den Teig von sich her und weg aufrollen und ihn (notfalls mit Hilfe des Tuches) in das gebutterte Reindl gleiten lassen, dabei sollte der abschliessende Falz auf der Unterseite sein. Mit allen Teigportionen so verfahren. Dann mit der Milch begiessen und bei 200° im vorgeheizten Backofen goldbraun backen (dauert ca 40 Minuten). Zwischendurch noch mit dem etwaigen Rest der zerlassenen Butter auf der Oberseite bepinseln, das gibt eine knusprige Kruste.

Der Strudel wird heiss und mit Puderzucker bestäubt  serviert, schmeckt aber auch abgekühlt zB zum Tee oder Kaffee.

Zur Adventszeit mag ich es auch gern, die Äpfel nach dem Schälen und hobeln mit der Zitrone, etwas Vanille und einer kleinen (!) Prise Lebkuchen- oder Bratapfelgewürzen  in einem Topf kurz anzudünsten, die Mischung dann in eine Schüssel zu geben, mit den Rumrosinen und gehackten oder gehobelten und in unbeschichteter Pfanne gebräunten Mandeln zu mischen und nachdem die Äpfel heruntergekühlt sind, mit dem Zimtzucker und dem Schmand zu vermengen oder ein bis zwei El der Apfelmischung anstelle von Vanillesauce zu den Strudel zu servieren und gebräunte Mandeln, Zimtzucker und einen Klecks des Schmands dazu zu garnieren.

Wird er als Mehlspeise wie heute bei den Montagsgerichten serviert, schmeckt eine Vanillesauce gut dazu. Sie können diese natürlich mit einer handelsüblichen Packung  (Dessert-Soße Vanille-Geschmack zum Kochenvon Dr. Oetker zB ) zubereiten. Persönlich mag ich dabei nur die zum Kochen, kalt angerührte Vanillesauce ist nichts für mich. Sie können aber natürlich auch mal selbst eine solche ausprobieren, was jetzt in der Adventszeit gut passt, wenn Sie zum Plätzchenbacken oder zum Backen von Makronen ohnehin gut Eiweiss gebrauchen können:

Vanillesauce selbstgemacht:

6 Eigelb, 100 g Zucker, Mark einer Vanilleschote (oder Msp. Vanillemark aus dem Glas), 1/2 Liter Milch.

Eigelb im Wasserbad mit dem Zucker dick und heiss und hellgelb schlagen.

Inzwischen in einem hohem Topf Milch mit der Vanille einmal aufkochen lassen, dann bei reduzierter Hitze  5- 10 Minuten ziehen lassen, während Sie die Eizuckermasse im Wasserbad schlagen, NICHT kochen. Dann nach und nach die Vanillemilch unter Rühren unter die Ei-Zucker-Masse mischen, die Gesamtmischung in den Topf zurückgiessen und bei mittlerer Hitze noch einmal unter Rühren “wallen” (nicht kochen, weil sonst das Ei ausflockt) lassen. Man nennt das auch sie zur Rose zu ziehen. Der Ausdruck rührt daher: Taucht man einen Esslöffel in die Sauce und bläst dann behutsam über dis Sauce auf dem Löffelrücken, so entsteht ein Muster wie von Rosenblütenblättern.

Rezeptvarianten und Tips:

Sie mögen keinen süssen Strudel ?Kein Problem, blättern Sie mal in den Angeboten – im oben erwähnten Markt sind aktuell auch Wirsing zum kg-Preis von 0,59 Euro oder Lauchzwiebeln zum Bundpreis von 0,39 Euro  zu bekommen. Lauch/Porree ist zudem als weitere Variante fast jede Woche günstig zu bekommen. Wirsing und Lauch sollte vor dem Verwenden als Füllung blanchiert und dann in Streifen geschnitten werden. Wirksing kann man auch hobeln. Bei Wirsing nehme ich die äusseren grösseren Blätter gern auch, um daraus Krautwickerl zuzubereiten, die man wie mit Weisskraut herstellt. Für die Strudelfüllung werden dann die inneren Blätter des Wirsings verwendet und nur ein paar dunklere der äusseren darunter gemischt.

Diese Gemüse kann man mit dem Schmand, etwas geriebenem Käse (ca 150 g), mit ein wenig Semmelbröseln (1-2 El)  und für Nichtvegetarier mit Wurst- oder Bratenresten, die montags vom Wochenende noch vorhanden sind oder etwas Hack oder Speck, Salz, Pfeffer, Prise Cayenne und Muskat nach persönlichem Gusto als Strudelfüllung verwenden. Anstelle der Milch verwenden Sie Brühe.

Auch sehr gut schmeckt die Kombination von Lachs (TK-Ware, aufgetaut, in Stücke zerteilt) mit den genannten Gemüsen.

Tip für Zitronensaft:

Nervt SIE das auch so: Sie kaufen ein Netzerl Zitronen und bereits anderntags ist garantiert die erste von Schimmel befallen? Bissl Schwund ist immer? Muss in dem Fall nicht sein: Ich habe mir angewöhnt, Zitronen bereits direkt nach dem Einkauf mit der Zitruspresse auszupressen und den Saft in Gefriertüten für Eiswürfel einzufüllen und ins TK-Fach zu geben. Ein kleiner Filter ist dabei nützlich, wenn man nur seine eigenen 2 Hände hat, aber sonst unkompliziert. Bei Bedarf wird einfach ein Zitruswürfel entnommen für die Kanne schwarzenTees, für Salatdressing, für Obstsalat, als Zutat zum Backen, Glasieren etc. Der Zitronensaftwürfel ist binnen kurzem aufgetaut und ohne Geschmacksveränderung nach dem Fristen nutzbar. Eiswürfelbehälter geht auch, sollte aber abgedeckt werden (Folie).

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The Don Wand glass wand is an amazing eco friendly, sex toy. Besides looking amazing, the glass wand will bring you to orgasm faster than you can say…oh yeah.

This stimulating glass wand features a unique LED light in the base that illuminates the shaft behind the gentle blue swirl texture. The LED light function transitions from red to blue with a gentle fade back and forth. The realistic tip is approximately 1 1/2in in diameter and sits atop of the 1in diameter, ergonomically crafted, curved shaft and is approximately 6 1/4in in length.

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I’ve been sporting this blue wand for longer I can remember. The Wand of San’layn.  Why? Well I have been wholly unlucky in wand drops, even the spider heroic place.  I think the handful of times a decent wand dropped from somewhere I would get beat out. To tell you the truth it wasn’t a bad wand. It had haste and it served me well.

Last night The Rod of Imprisoned Souls dropped from Icehowl in ToC 10.  Which tell you the truth is the only thing I really truly wanted, besides the Merlins Robe pattern, and a decent pair of pants.  Well I rolled my roll. Shitty roll of course. Lysandre aka Amber beat me on the roll fair and square. But I was sour, as many times I did ToC and this is the first time I even seen it drop. I don’t remember but someone linked their wand in raid chat I think to say what a poor wand. I was like oh yea, check my whopping blue wand. Though if anyone knows me, especially from my Warhammer days, they know my awesome luck where it comes to gear, 100+ runs of the Bilerot dungeon, and I still never got my shoulders from that place.

So I was prepared to just swallow my anger, and move on. It’s just purple pixels, and I’m use to it. But the odd thing happened, Amber said she would give me the wand. I was like…What? Really?  I was touched….and this time not in a dirty way. It’s acts like that earn my loyalty, and respect.  I want to personally thank Amber, it was a nice thing to do, and it will not go underappreciated.

As for the rest of the Raids last night as a whole still had a problem with Anub. Those little adds adding too much poison to us, and killing us.  Personally I think I did rather well. I was right under DPS wise with the other Mage in our guild, but he has some better gear then me.  The only thing I did screw up, are a couple orbs landed on me wrong. I missjudged the direction they were floating because they were behind me, and they intersected right on me almost. Other then that everything went good, and we killed the Ony 10 loot pinata last night too.

Oh yea Strat run 1123 Still no Barons Mount…….I hate that guy…I really do.

I go to Practice every week, for the crew I’m on. We practice our craft for the weekend shows. We go to reconnect with each other, to talk and play and share together. We go to teach the newer members, as well as the guests. We go because we are always learning, always finding something new, always have room to improve.

We practice flogging against the wall, against the cross and on each other. We do electric scenes, checking the wands and trying out the toys. We practice our brand of fire play, training on all three stations. We don’t have the space for much suspension practice currently, but once in a while we get that, too.

But, for crew, practice isn’t enough. The skills are there, we learn what to do. But our weekends are full of strangers, with different reactions, different bodies, different needs, wants and desires. For us to “perfect” our craft, we need more than just our Practice night. We need to work with all sorts of different people, under the low lights and loud music. We need to deal with drunk, sober, shy and loud. What we do is very different, and very unique. It takes more than swinging a flogger or firing up a violet wand.

For me, it also takes a desire to serve and to share. I could just attend practices, and have time with them and do what I want to do. I could just be another attendee and sign up on the lists. I volunteer for crew to share the experience. To provide others the opportunity to learn and do what they might not have a chance to do otherwise. It fills a need in me to give back, to contribute to the community. Just going to Practice is no longer enough for me. I want more.