Finally, FINALLY, I finished the boy's Hempathy sweater! I started it in May 2010 with some sale yarn from Stash, the now deceased LYS that I miss so very much. I think the sweater was finished a few months later, but the sleeves were kimono-like. Not only were the sleeves enormous, but they stopped short of his wrists, so they were double stupid. I forbid him from wearing it, even though he swore that he didn't mind the ridiculous ginormity of the sleeves, because I had visions of him pointing to those sleeves explaining to coworkers and friends that his wife was forcing him to wear this hand knit sweater, and of people giving him a sympathetic look in return and telling him that he is a good man. No way was I going to be that knitting cliche!
I stuffed the sweater into a cloth grocery bag, and then shoved it into a cabinet, and it didn't see the light of day until I unearthed it a few months ago. I was shamed that something that took me so much time and so much yarn was not getting any air time, so I ripped back both sleeves, took some more of the boy's arm measurements (which proved difficult because it was hard for him to stop flexing and talking about his "smoking guns"), and knit some appropriate sweater sleeves. He now has a functional sweater that, if I may say so myself, looks jaunty and hip. Done, done, and done!
Last weekend, the beet greens were ripe for thinning. Since I have an affinity for trimming and picking, and since I have not been taking part in the nightly slug and snail hunting, it was my task. We ended up with probably 1/2 a pound of beet greens that were quickly washed, then wok-ified. I stir fried them with olive oil and garlic, dusted them with a bit of freshly ground salt and pepper, and then we inhaled them. The boy wondered why we were bothering with beets when the greens were delicious. I must remember to buy some more deep, leafy greens seeds specifically for cutting.
Since we seem to be the only gardeners who cannot get zucchini to come out of our ears, this made me feel like less of an urban farmer failure. In fact, I think that our squashes are shrinking in size, which probably means I should cut them off to end their agony.