I have a big vat of sour cream in the fridge, and am wondering what to
do with it. And by "big vat", I mean, a Costco-sized tub that could
amply dress a bushel of baked potatoes. I know you can make frosty
desserts from yogurt, so why not from sour cream?

To Google!

An Alice Medrich recipe that sounds lovely, though may depend too
heavily on the sour cream to bring the flavor.

Brown sugar ice cream, sounds good, though it also includes half and
half. I want to use up as much of my vat as possible.

Some fruity options:
Blueberry (just look at that gorgeous color!)

Strawberry

Lemon

Even though my knitting is slow, and even though the last thing I finished knitting is ugly, I take huge comfort in the fact that seven hundred and forty one knitters have made my peekaboo mittens pattern, and have posted about it on Ravelry.  Since not everyone is on Ravelry, I'm certain that at least a thousand knitters have scooped up my pattern, and have made a pair for themselves or someone they love.  I've seen Peekaboos made for teenage texters, and happy hunters.  For chilly commuters, and frozen friends.  Even though I'm not knitting much, my pattern knits on.  Pretty awesome, if you ask me.

And dammint, I should have charged money for that pattern. 

For the second time this week, I'm wishing I were handier with a sewing machine. First, I saw this lovely blanket over at Sweet Juniper. What a lovely thing, to make a quilt out of baby clothes. It seems so wasteful, to cut and sew baby clothes into a quilt rather than pass them on to a sibling or another family, but then I think of all the memories I have attached to that sweet little dress the tadpole wore to her first grown-up dinner party, or the little pink squirrel onesie I bought months before I got pregnant. So maybe I'll make a quilt, with a little help from my friends. Then, I've been scouring the web for a christening gown for the little one, and whoa Nelly are there some ugly gowns out there. But then there are some wonderful, thoughtful sewers making beautiful gowns, like Embroidered Heirlooms, Katland, and Dana's Unique Christening Gowns. Dana is actually having a christening gown giveaway, which is quite nice and would solve all my sewing angst problems. For this week, anyway.

I've had a subscription to Bon Appetit magazine for at least a decade, and I've been cooking recipes from the venerable old girl since my early teens. But I can't stay silent any longer. Bon Appetit irritates the hell out of me. That's right, I said hell. This poor old magazine got a makeover a year or so ago, which to my eye consisted of hiring a police photographer to do the food photography, and strangleworthy content editors. This month, there's an article on hosting cocktail parties. An achingly hip Brooklyn couple shares their secrets for the perfect party: "'When we host a party, we make everything ourselves, from the invitations to the absinthe, and encourage guests to dress for the occasion,' says Kate. 'Our love of old-world extravagance and well-crafted cocktails transforms our parties from get-togethers to grand events.'" Can't you just imagine Kate churning up a fresh batch of absinthe in the kitchen, pausing only to daub some ink on her vintage letterpress contraption? And her husband, Cory, has the stupidest handlebar moustache I've ever seen. Yes, I am being a little harsh. But there are so many ridiculous things in this issue. Like a recipe for conch fritters. Or a Christmas caipirinha with fresh mint (fresh mint? In December? I guess it gets shipped up from Chile, giant carbon footprint swaying in the breeze). Their "foodist" suggests bringing a host gift of chicken liver pate instead of a bottle of wine. He even goes so far as to suggest that you secretly stash the pate in the host's fridge, so they can discover it the next day and exclaim, "what the hell is this grey paste next to the ketchup?" All the food photography is just awful, harshly-lit birds-eye views of unfathomable food. Unnatural, unappetizing. And please, stop photographing models from the chin down. I feel like I'm reading a Fiona Apple video. OK, I realize none of you are here to read my Bon Appetit rant. :) So here's the good news. The recipe for Aunt Bill's candy on page 96 (by Molly of Orangette) looks really yummy, and I bet I'll be making a batch before the holidays are over. But the rest of the mag can bite me.

Just the other day I was lamenting the fact that it's been ages since I won anything online. In my glorious past, I've won a cashmere scarf, a TiVo, a roundtrip ticket to London (which I didn't take because the taxes were horrendous), sock yarn (twice!), and a Chibi. Then, a dry spell. A looooong dry spell. Until yesterday! I won a photo caption contest at Thingamababy and I'm getting a cool baby CD. w00t! I really hope the tadpole likes Medeski Martin & Wood. I already know she likes Johnny Cash and hates Neil Diamond, but her opinions on more current music continue to elude me. Thanks, Thingamababy!

For several years, I had season tickets to the Seattle Opera. The great thing about seeing lots of opera is that you're free to be honest about it. If you just see one opera every few years (or just one in your life), there's pressure to really get something out of it. But when you're trotting to four or five operas a year, there's a certain freedom to critique, as if seeing lots of operas makes you an expert. I've seen Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen in its entirety over the course of one week. I've loved Die Fledermaus and hated Mourning Becomes Electra. After each opera finished, we kept a tradition of going to late-night happy hour at McMenamin's pub. Pit musicians were often seated at adjoining tables. One night, on the way to the pub, a downtrodden fellow asked if we wanted to buy some "kick-ass champagne" for $20. Maybe, if the bottle hadn't clearly been re-corked. Almost every time we went to the opera, we enjoyed a little free tuba music on the steps of the opera house. Before and after the performances, and during intermission, the same guy sat on a stool playing his tuba. Sometimes he'd play When the Saints go Marching In, sometimes he'd play motifs from that night's production. Always in a silly hat, always accepting tips. I always noticed him, always wondered why he spent so much time playing the tuba at the opera house. I wondered if he ever went in to catch a performance. It's hopelessly cheesy to say so, but he always made me smile. We stopped renewing our season tickets a few years ago, and I forgot about the tuba guy until today, when I read that he died last week, after being beaten and robbed at a bus stop near the opera house. It's awful to read such sad news on an otherwise happy day. I'm feeling infused with optimism, and it's a little shocking to remember that bad things still happen for no reason at all.

Ooo everyone is all abuzz with Obama fever! Last night, I watched Obama give his victory speech on TV, while spooning rice cereal into the Tadpole's mouth. I'm so glad for the outcome of this election, not just because I believe Obama will actually change things for the better, but because a majority of Americans just demonstrated that they are willing to sacrifice for the betterment of their country. This sacrifice may come in the form of higher taxes, or more expensive gas, but we're all willing to accept those burdens in exchange for helping our neighbors, bettering our society, and rescuing our environment from literal destruction. You can't get something for nothing, and I think we all just showed that we're ready to give. So yay for us! We rock, and we just elected a rockin' president! Even in this Internet age, I felt compelled to get a newspaper commemorating this election. Which brings me to a question for you all - I'm starting a first-year time capsule for the wee one, to be sealed on her first birthday and opened on her twenty-first. This Obama newspaper is going in the capsule (which will probably be a box, stored on a closet shelf), but I need some great ideas for other additions. Here's what I'm thinking so far: Items to show what daily life was like: Grocery lists Grocery receipt Grocery store circular Bus pass Celebrity magazine Cooking magazine Takeout menus Sentimental items (informational): Letters from mom and dad Letters from other family members Printouts of e-mails discussing tadpole Other sentimental items: Duplicate of a favorite toy Birth plan Year-specific items 2008 coins 2008 stamps Things that may not exist or be used in 21 years Newspaper Plastic utensils Old cellphone So this is where I need help - what things will be defunct/extinct/quaintly funny in twenty years? Some time capsule websites suggest including recordings of songs or television shows popular at the time, but I think we'll be able to access those pretty easily in the future. But ephemeral things like grocery receipts are pretty much gone forever.

If you guiltily watch South Park like I'll do, you'll get this post title. So it's election day! I voted absentee over the weekend, but I'm still giddy like it's Christmas morning. Just what I wanted! A new president! Well, a gift certificate for a new president, redeemable in January. Some of the giddiness may be attributable to the cup of free coffee I snagged at Starbucks this morning. I think it had much more caffeine than my customary double Americano. Whizzzzz!!! Even though it's supposedly taboo to discuss politics at work, it's pretty clear that most of my coworkers are riding the Obama train, myself included. Take this exchange from earlier this morning: Coworker: Oh, Obama Obama love love love Obama Obama vote excitement! Me: I had puppies for breakfast. Of course I didn't say that, but you'd think so given the reaction my actual statement got: Me: Well, I'm pretty sure Obama's going to win, but even if he doesn't, McCain is a heckuva lot better than George Bush! Seriously, can't we agree on that, regardless of our political leanings? I feel sorry for McCain. I might have voted for him eight years ago. But weird things happen when you try to appeal to evangelicals, financial conservatives, moderates, and everyone in between. Weird things like Sarah Palin, and the "pro-abortionist" trainwreck. It also doesn't help to be running against the coolest presidential candidate ever. Oh, Obama Obama love love love Obama Obama vote excitement!

Found via Not Martha

How about this for the most unoriginal post topic ever: Once you have a kid, everyone thinks it's their job to keep you from screwing up childrearing. I've found the best way to deal with this is to have science on my side. This weekend, in the grocery checkout line, the woman waiting in line behind me commented on what an adorable baby I had (duh!) and lamented the fact that she had only one grandchild. I smiled sympathetically, who doesn't want lotsa babies! Then she said that her daughter stopped with one child because she was only able to take enough time off of work to take care of one child, and she didn't want her babies to be raised by (sneer) daycare (/sneer). You know, sometimes you can accidentally insult someone. Like when you introduce yourself to a new knitting buddy and say "oh, don't you HATE Red Heart yarn?" and they pull a big ol' Red Heart Super Saver log out of their knitting bag and you're like, whoops. So I said, "Well, my baby goes to daycare and she loves it!" As such, I gave the nice lady a way to backpedal and not be all judgmental of a stranger. But she couldn't take a hint. "Oh, but it's so much better if they don't have to go the daycare." Ugh, is she really going to make me be the mean epidemiologist? I guess I have to... "You know, it's so interesting, they've actually found that children who go to daycare have a reduced risk of leukemia compared to kids who just stay at home, and kids in daycare do better on achievement tests when they're older. Amazing, huh? There are pros and cons to all our choices!" She looked really disturbed, and I felt kind of bad. The risk of leukemia is so small that daycare really isn't going to make a difference for most babies. And parents who choose to care for their children at home can do a fantastic job of giving their babies all the stimulation they need to be the next Nobel Laureate. I would like nothing better than to win the lottery, buy a foreclosed megamansion and take care of the tadpole myself until the Rapture. Unfortunately, I think making grandmas feel bad in the checkout line is sufficient grounds to be Left Below. Gah, do I really look like I'm doing that bad of a job?