Oh, you people think that the only thing I do is watch Project Runway and ANTM, don’t you? Because I have been so very, terribly lax about posting these past couple of months. But you are wrong, wrong, wrong. I do so much more than that. For instance, I surf the internet aimlessly, I knit and ravel (un-knit) and I cook. Some of these things make for a nice synergy along the way.

Take for example, the aimless surfing and the food. When I was but a little shoe, my parents bought me a subscription to the Time/Life Foods of the World series for my birthday present. They were a wonderful introduction to the techniques and flavors of world cuisine. They were full of pictures and narrative and I still have every one of them, albeit a bit sticky, dog-eared and in some cases, a little water damaged. In one of the volumes about America, there was a two page photo spread on apples. I don’t remember what the title was in 1969, but today it would be heirloom apples. They may have been described as antique or lost varieties, or maybe just regional, but there was one apple in that spread that captured my imagination: the Sheepnose apple. It was longer, and somewhat more conical than a Red Delicious. It resembled, in fact, the nose of a sheep. Living in South Florida, there was no option of going around from orchard to orchard until I found one. Even today, with heirloom foods a major foodie trend, and boutique green grocers popping up, I have never seen a Sheepnose. BUT! In my aimless wanderings around the interwebs a couple of weeks ago, I Googled “Sheepnose apple” looking for pictures. Instead, I found Apple Source, a little, family-run business that sells varietal apples and ships them anywhere in the US. The lovely lady owner convinced me that I really didn’t want to eat a Sheepnose, because they are a fruit which is better in theory than in practice. She allowed as how one could find a really great Sheepnose, but only rarely, and then they don’t keep or travel so the only way to really and truly enjoy one would be to find an orchard having a good season, pick it and eat it right there. Sigh. But I did order a box of mixed heirlooms and the RLA and I have been doling them out like treasured jewels. And I ordered a box for the GirlCousin. And another for the David Lee Roth clone that is my brother-in-law. And now that the season has gone on and the varieties are changing, I may order another box for me.

Real apples. The smell alone is enough to make one swoon. The variety of tastes, and textures and colors is mind blowing. They are tart and sweet and tangy. The skins are rough (russets) or smooth. They are green with a rose colored blush, dark red, pale cardinal, yellow and green. Some of them are crunchy and others more mealy. None of them have been anything less than delicious. The RLA, who grew up in

Rochester, New York tells me that this has unleashed memories by the bushel. So go visit Jill and order yourself some apples. You’ll thank me.

The raveling and interwebs have intersected here at Ravelry.com. Ravel and unravel, like flammable and inflammable would seem to be opposites, but are actually synonymous. Anyway, you need to sign up for Ravelry (sounds like revelry, not to be confused with reveille) before you can get sucked in to the endless delights for yarn junkies. I have never seen a greater (in every sense of the word) time suck than Ravelry. I have entered my knitting needles and crochet hooks into a data base. Why? I can look over at the jar on my desk and see what I have. I’ve uploaded photos of my knitting, I’ve created a library of my reference books, even though they are on a shelf to my right (see WHY? above). I’m surfing patterns and yarns and looking for yarn junkie friends and looking at other people’s stashes. Yeah. I know. It’s yarn porn.

But there it is, and here I am, stuck to my laptop like a leech.

And then there is my love/hate relationship with “Tin Man”. And the never-ending garage sale plans. And a few bits of sewing that have yet to be finished, and did I mention that I’m heading to Disney World at the end of the week? Must commune with the mouse. More later, I think my boss has noticed I’m blogging and not working…