The food blog is no more. Ah well.

Honestly? I’m not sorry to see it go.

As a tool for reining in our family budget, and showing us how much more we were spending than we needed to, it’s been fantastic. We learned a lot about our shopping and eating habits, and we adjusted accordingly. Our finances are in way better shape now than they were at the beginning of this experiment. For those of you who didn’t follow along over there, the idea was to spend no more than $50 a week per adult on food, while still eating well (which for our family means fresh, organic, and local). That includes groceries, meals out, snacks, etc. Everything you eat. We were allotted $125 a week: $50 each for me and Billy, and $25 for the kiddo.

That actually sounds like a lot of money, doesn’t it? It didn’t when we started the blog, but a few weeks in, when we’d made the necessary adjustments, it became clear that that is ample money to feed a family of three very well. Which was part of the problem with the blog. It was a very reasonable goal to work toward, but it didn’t exactly create blog magic, did it? Low bar. I have no problem with that. I wouldn’t feed my family on much less than that a week. But the blog got to be a drag after a while. How many interesting posts can you pull out of your ass, when you’ve committed to two posts a week and they’re all a variation on: “Yep, we stuck to the budget” or “Whoops. We shouldn’t have ordered that Thai food”? You know?

I learned all there was to learn from the project in the early weeks, which is:

Cook almost all our meals at home.
Plan meals so we’re only buying what we actually need at the store.
Grow or make as much as possible, within reason. (For us that meant growing 90% of our vegetables year round, baking 90% of our bread and baked goods, and canning all of our jam. None of this is that hard, because you don’t do everything all at once.)

Once I figured that out, there wasn’t that much left to say. That’s not why the blog died, though. The blog died the way nearly all blogs die. My co-bloggers stopped posting. I’m not sure why. And when they stopped posting, it made me not want to be the only jackass still doing the work. You know? After a couple weeks, I “prompted” Adam, as he put it, to post some kind of explanation.

Like I said, ah well.

For those of you who followed me over there from here, thank you for reading. And if you enjoyed what we were doing over there, I’m sorry for the abrupt end. The good news, for those who read $50 a Week, and those who did not, is that now I won’t be spreading my blog fodder quite so thin. And I get to post about gardening, baking, cooking, etc without having to talk about money. Because, really…do you care how much I spend on groceries?

We’re sticking to the budget, still, because it’s good for us. But I won’t be blogging that number anymore. And you know what? That’s a relief.

…that our dear Rachael’s book, How to Knit a Love Song, is now available for pre-order at Amazon.

Now, I usually try to buy all my books from Powells, to support my local independent (and utterly fantastic) bookstore, but getting good pre-order numbers truly helps emerging authors. So if you know and love Rachael, as I know many of you do, pre-ordering from Amazon would be a great way to support her.

And if you don’t know Rachael yet (which likely means you aren’t a knitter. And that’s okay), go check out her blog, and then please consider ordering her book. Yes, it’s a romance novel. You don’t read romance, you say? You know what? Me neither, usually. But do yourself a favor and put genre assumptions etc aside. Trust me on this one. The woman can write her ass off.

How are you? How was your Thanksgiving (if you live in the U.S.)? And how was your nice long weekend (if you live in the U.S. and didn’t have to work)? Mine was good. Really good. I made stuff. I like making stuff. Have I mentioned that before? Once or twice over the past 6.5 years of blogging? Yeah. It’s true. I’ve been busy making stuff.

Want a list? Sure you do. Who doesn’t love a list?

1. Well, first and foremost, of course, I’m making a baby. But you knew that already, and it’s a slow process. She’s still doing well, turning her in utero barrel rolls like crazy. I’m still huge. Getting huger by the day. (Huger. That’s so totally wrong. Why doesn’t it get a red editing line under it? But it doesn’t. Wrong. Wrong. Hmmph. WordPress spell check, I am not impressed.)

2. Last weekend (the one before the holiday weekend), I made a batch of apple butter. It came out beautifully, and we all love it, so I suppose it was worth the hour of my life that was spent peeling, coring, and quartering 6 lbs of apples by hand. No photos of that. Picture brown stuff in a jar. Well, eight jars.

3. So I got smart (and lucky) and borrowed Heather’s apple peeler/corer/slicer to make the apple pie for Thanksgiving.

I love that thing. It worked brilliantly. It hurt to return it, but Heather had her own pie to bake Thanksgiving morning.

4. Here’s the pie:

It’s the first pie I ever made, which is kind of weird since I do a lot of baking. But there you go. I made a pie, and it was good. Made the crust and everything. Hurray for pie.

5. And I made a pumpkin pie, too. The pie was delicious, and also quite instructive. The pie informed me that our oven isn’t level.

6. (Psst: Want to see that apple peeler in action again? It does potatoes too! Thanksgiving 2009, made possible by Heather’s apple peeler)

7. After a serious knitting slump, I finally finished something other than little farm animals (which I’ve been cranking out like a champ for Hanukkah, by the way). I knit the first sock and 3/4 of the second sock of this pair of knee highs about a year ago, then set them aside when it became obvious I was running out of yarn well before the toe of the second sock. This weekend I dug through the box of sock yarn leftovers and found the dregs of the Trekking I used to make socks for Norma a million years ago. I decided it was complementary enough to finish off the second sock without turning it into a total Frankenstein affair. I’m pretty pleased with the result.

There ya go. Don’t look for a number 8 or 9 anytime soon, as I have a flurry of freelance work over the next couple of weeks, and my novel revisions are screaming at me from my desk. But seeing as I’ve now shown more knitting in the past two posts than I probably did for all of 2009 before this point, maybe we’re actually seeing signs of something of a knitting resurgence around these parts. Which would be fortunate, seeing as I still have about 20 years’ worth of yarn in the stash.

…I know you’re not used to this from me anymore.

But, well…I’ve been knitting. I know! Remember when I used to do that all the time? I’m up to it again. Maybe because it’s cold outside. Maybe because there’s a new baby on the way. Maybe because the kiddo is into wearing stuff I make for him right now, as long as it’s dark blue. I should probably now show you photos of the kid in his matching hat and mittens, but I don’t have any for you and he’s at preschool right now. Soon.

In the meantime, I have donkeys and pigs for you. Yes, donkeys and pigs.

Those of you who’ve been around since the time when I actually knit with some regularity were expecting socks, right?

There’s a parent work-hour requirement as part of enrollment at the kid’s preschool. I managed to wrangle the very best work-hours of all, knitting some toys for the classroom. See? Donkeys and pigs. I’m going to make some hens and roosters, too.

The patterns are from Freya Jaffke’s Toymaking with Children. Cute patterns, and quick and easy, but to be honest some of them are rather badly written. I had to make a few leaps and assumptions that a beginning knitter might not be able to make. If you do check out the book, know that going in.

I didn’t think the kid would care much about them, but he’s really into them, so I’m going to make some for him as a hanukkah gift. And then maybe a couple to set aside for the baby, and then a couple for the niece and nephew… These little animals are kind of addictive. On the other hand, it’s been so long since I’ve made socks that nearly every handknit sock in my drawer has a hole in it. Maybe the animals for the kid and the chickens for the school, and then some nice cozy socks for me. And then a sweater for the new baby. And THEN some more pigs and donkeys and chickens. And maybe that horse pattern…

…here are some of the photos my friend Everette took on Halloween.

From these photos you will learn the following:

• The kid is very cute.
• The kid, usually quite enamored of his dark blue police helmet, was uninterested in wearing it for trick or treating.
• The kid’s friend is also very, very cute.
• Together, insane cuteness.
• Diego? He’s cute, too.
• Also, I am hugely pregnant.

That is all.

We’re not sure how long he’ll be with us, but he’s here today.

The bloodwork showed he’s got kidney disease. So much for the hoped-for bladder infection. It may or may not be cancer, but we’re not going to subject him to more testing to find out, because it wouldn’t change our course of action. We’re not going to put such an old dog through any kind of grueling treatment. We’re going to make sure he’s loved and comfortable, and when he’s no longer comfortable, we’re going to say goodbye.

I hate this part of living with animals. Hate it.

I hardly ever blog about the dog anymore, and I’ve taken so few photos of him recently that I couldn’t find one to add to this post. It doesn’t mean we love him any less. It’s because he’s become a rather old dog, and he mostly just sleeps. Life moves faster than it used to, and taking photos of a sleeping dog is pretty low on the priority list.

So, here’s the thing. Diego’s at the vet today for tests, and we’re not 100% sure he’ll be coming home. He’s a very old man. He’s gone down from 11 pounds to 9 pounds, even though he still eats plenty, and he’s pretty much lost complete control of his bladder. We’re hoping the tests show it’s a simple, treatable bladder infection, but the weight loss in spite of his food intake isn’t a great indication of what we’re going to learn.

Please, if you’re so inclined, think a good thought or two for a sweet old Italian greyhound today, okay? Thanks.

My feelings about Halloween run from complete and utter disinterest to strong annoyance, depending on how close upon us the damn day is. I’ve got a kid who’s old enough to get into it now, though, so this year I needed to suck it up and fake some enthusiasm.

I did okay. Mostly because Billy loves Halloween and I followed his lead. He insisted trick or treating would be more fun for the kid if he did it with a friend or two. So that’s what we did. It was a lot of fun. The kids went to five or six houses, then returned home to check out the spoils. Yes, five or six pieces of candy. I know we won’t get off so easily in the future.

I only got one picture, and it’s not that good.

Why so few pictures? Because my friend Everette was visiting.

He’s way better with the camera thing than I am, so I let him do the documenting. More/better photos when he sends them along. It was kind of awesome. If you’re friends with any professional photographers, I highly recommend inviting them over on a day that just happens to coincide with some kind of family milestone. Oh…say…kid’s first Halloween where he’s old enough to care about trick or treating? “Hey, there, old buddy with the camera capable of taking good photos at dusk who actually knows how to wield said camera effectively at dusk? Want to come over? With your camera? There’ll be pizza…”

Yeah. It was pretty cool. I’m psyched to get those photos.

Oh, and it was rather fantastic to see Everette, too. Did I mention that we hadn’t seen each other in ten years? (He was already planning on passing through town this weekend. I SWEAR I did not actually invite him over because of the camera. That would have been…well…weird.)

Halloween was pretty good this year. I may have to revise my opinion about the holiday. But you’re still not going to get me into a costume. No fucking way.

We had an ultrasound this past Thursday, the detailed anatomical scan. It was all good news. Everything measured just fine. The baby looks great. And unlike her big brother, who kept his legs tightly crossed for most of his ultrasounds and only gave us sneaking little glimpses that allowed the sonographer to guess with 75% certainty that he was a boy at his 16-week scan, this one is not in the least bit shy. Legs in the air, waving her little butt around. We can announce with 100% certainty that I’ve got a girl cooking in there.

Yesterday I sorted through all of Thumper’s outgrown clothes, setting aside the very “boyish” stuff to give to my friend Helen, who’s having a boy any day now. It was hard at first to put anything in the bags to give away. We got rid of all the basic basics, like onesies, before we moved, so every little thing I pulled out of the boxes had some memory attached. It seemed like only weeks ago I’d dressed him in those little pajamas, and now here I was trying to decide if I want to dress his little sister in blue trucks. Too fast…and yet he’ll be nearly four when she’s born.

I decided to give the blue trucks away. Not because I wouldn’t put a girl in blue clothes (though I dislike blue and it’s all Thumper wants to wear so I’ll be very happy to see less of it on this one), or things with trucks on them. But because I want her to have some things that didn’t belong to her big brother first. And I want that little thrill of dressing her in something for the first time, something that will have probably been handed down from a friend’s kid, but nothing I will have already dressed a baby in.

As I went through the boxes it got easier, and I now have two big bags of clothes to pass on to Helen’s baby. I kept more than I’m giving away, and this little girl will be wearing plenty of handmedowns from her brother. But there will be some things that will be just hers.

Poor kid. I’m already way too excited about dressing her like a little Minnie Pearl. If Thumper is any indication, I figure I only have a year and a half to two years before she starts insisting on dressing herself. I’m going to make the most of that time.

1. Medium-sized avocados are two for a buck at Fred Meyer right now. Usually, they’re 69 cents each. I had no idea. Ever since we started the food budget, we’d been mostly going without our beloved avocados because the large ones are $2.99 EACH at New Seasons, where we do our shopping. Why the huge difference? New Seasons only carries organic avocados, and only the large size. The avocados at Fred Meyer aren’t organic (and are the smaller ones). WAY cheaper. And we figure if you’re going to skip the organic for any produce, do it with something that has a tough, non-edible skin. We are back in avocados, people. This is life-changing news. Or maybe it just feels that way because I just ate that avocado on a rather fantastic sandwich, and nothing makes a pregnant woman (this pregnant woman, anyway) happier than a really, really good sandwich.

2. Said sandwich was bargain avocado, tomato from the garden, the last slice of Swiss leftover from our ill-planned lunch debacle on Sunday, and a healthy smear of mayo on challah I baked this morning.

3. Yes, I baked challah on a Tuesday. I wanted challah. Yes, it felt weird. Yes, if there are ghosts my Jewish grandmother will rise up to give me indigestion. I don’t care. It was worth it. (And it’d be kind of nice to see her, anyway.)

4. I’m reading Already Dead by Denis Johnson right now. I already thought he was a genius. Now it’s pretty much confirmed. For those who think you don’t like his work, please remember that it’s not his fault that 44% of all first-year MFA fiction students are trying to write like him. (With another 52%, mostly female, trying to write like Lorrie Moore, of course. And it’s not her fault, either.) That leaves 4% who right off the bat are trying to write like themselves. I’d like to flatter myself by saying I was in that 4%, but truth be told I was most likely trying to write like Borges filtered through a used cheesecloth screen with bits of Johnson and Moore stuck to it.

5. Now I write like myself. Really. How do I know? It hurts a lot more and it’s harder to show to others.

6. I want another sandwich. There’s plenty of bread, more tomatoes, another avocado. No more Swiss, though. Will it be the same without the Swiss? I’m hungry. Gonna go for it.

7. I wish I had some of those Terra chips.

8. I don’t eat chips. That’s the fetus talking. The fetus makes me eat and enjoy things I don’t like, like chips and orange juice. But I’m a stingy mean mama, and no first-timer, so I only gave it chips once.

9. Okay. Twice.

10. So far.