Oh Hey, I Knitted Something for My Head.

This definitely is nowhere near perfect, but I'm so proud of it because I followed and finished my first knitting pattern ever. I got the pattern for FREE from Brooklyn Mercantile after purchasing a ball of yarn (and needles, but if I had already owned them I would have only had to buy the yarn).




Along the way, I found out that I was purling wrong... that was fun to realize. It made sense though- my knitting has always had a strange slant to it. I sat in BM for nearly two hours with one of the ladies who literally eyeballed my every stitch to make sure I was doing things right. It was incredibly kind and helpful of her.




I chose to adorn the ear warmer/headband with a matching brooch and earring I inherited from Mom Hennessy through Grandma Larsen. A lot of Brooklyn-ites are sporting the big knit flowers on their headbands, but that's just not really my thing. Maybe sometimes, but not this time.

In sum, this venture (in my book) was a full success. So was my trip to 30 Rock tonight when I got to see J-Lo on SNL. Irrelevant but equally awesome.

Olive You to Love Me.

Over the past week and a half or so I have really started to question who I am and why I do the things that I do. The things that I choose to do with my time started innocently and became mineralized and attached to my being. I wonder sometimes why my dad consistently wakes up at six am, goes golfing on Thursdays, and hates George Clooney with a passion. The fact of the matter is, he has had years and years of life to fall into his preferences and the routine he's accustomed to.

I too, am a creature of habit. I drink coffee every morning (I've switched to decaf), default to Paul Simon "Graceland" when I don't know what else to listen to, and obsess over Valentine's Day. Yeah, you heard me.

By all accounts, it doesn't make sense.

I'm not dating. I'm not looking to date. I'm not bitter (anymore) about past circumstances and experiences that have callused my poor little heart. I have to also add that the callusing isn't just because of others- I've just as often hurt myself because of fear or uncertainty. YIKES. What a mess I am. But I LOVE Valentine's Day, my friends.

I'm not as attached to the idea of romance as I am to the concept of LOVE. Love, Love, Love.



Last Valentine's Day I drew Valentines for my friends that were heart-shaped and either had a robot, David Bowie, a tea cup, or Thoreau's cabin at Walden Pond. Each one had a cheesily-wonderful phrase that tied (however distantly) to Valentine's Day. For example, the Bowie cards said, "Oh! You Pretty Things! Happy Valentine's Day." Cheesy, fun, something I gave to as many friends as I could to let them know that I cared. So, I guess that's what attracts me to Valentine's Day. To paraphrase what was said in the excessively-cast-highly-acclaimed-mainstream-holiday-film "Love Actually"- Christmas is the time to tell people that you love them. So is Valentine's Day, and it's much more straightforward because of all the cupid dyecuts on bulletin boards and cheap milk chocolate candy boxes on the shelves of drugstores. Even my cold un-romantic heart can't deny that I have love for people. All kinds of people.

Back to Valentine cards. This year I took on a new feat: carving linoleum to make a stamp. I had a little too much fun with this. And took a few too many nicks out of my fingers.




If you want one, I can send you one. Just email me your address.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Back From Red Hook...

So today I went to the Red Hook Recreational Track near the Ikea that's under the BQE circa my apartment. I love Red Hook, but that's another story. The track is great in its own right- framed by the big blue Ikea warehouse, a bunch of wispy sad winter tree skeletons, and a rusty old factory that must have manufactured paper or canned goods at some point. I went on a pretty emotional walk on account of I'm recovering from food poisoning and I didn't have the energy to run (whenever I don't run I have a little too much dead time to think about life). I made up an incoherent song about the feelings while I was walking which reduced me to near-tears. Setting the stage, my friends, setting the stage. Erin is emo-tastic.

I don't generally eat my feelings, especially since I don't eat gluten anymore. Gluten paired with sugar is the culprit of all feeling-eating, I say. I mean, I don't know many people that eat a whole head of raw broccoli when their significant other dumps their boot.

One of the coolest and most irrelevant things about where I reside is that it's pretty close to a shared Dunkin Donuts/Gas Station. These are two things I absolutely don't need to fuel my gluten-free, car-less New York lifestyle. But boy, they epitomize this city, don't they? I mean, "AMERICA RUNS ON DUNKIN" (or so I've seen advertised on the subway), and New York, if I may be so bold, is the premier American city. They run on Dunkin right by my house.

Segway. Not the transportation device. I don't completely understand what triggers the "gluten-cheating" chemical in my head. Today was a normal day. I wasn't craving a doughnut. I had gluten-free pancakes for breakfast, a cup of decaf-coffee (trying to get off caffeine), half an apple, and some rice and beans for lunch. No problem.

So, I'm walking under the BQE towards home like I've done twenty or more times post- run/walk. Oh NO. My body should be veering left, no, it's teetering right into the gas station. I'm standing at the counter in a zombie-like state. My internal voice is reasoning with me. Okay, Erin, you can just look at the donuts from the focal point of the cash register. The lady comes to the counter. "Do you have any frosted cake donuts?" I ask. She shakes her head. "No? I'll get the raised one with the white frosting and sprinkles, then." Erin... you can just have a bite. You have to promise to throw the rest away. Don't forget your gluten policy. I walk out of the Dunkin Donuts, hurling my inner voice to the curb, take a sharp right, and 30 seconds later I've polished off the doughnut. I can still hear silly inner voice screaming after me. I'm not even a raised doughnut enthusiast (my poison: white cake doughnut with cherry frosting w/ sprinkles) but MAN, that was DELICIOUS.

So, this may have been a moral failure of sorts. Sue me.

My point is this: the other 97% of the time when I maintain my gluten-free lifestyle, I like to experiment with recipes and make things that I CAN eat and enjoy. I think that's an important part of living. We eat food everyday, and we generally pursue the foods that we like. Of course, everything in moderation, but as someone who doesn't get very many pastries these days, I've taken it upon myself to have a little fun (and even make some things that other people want to try!). Here's one recipe I recently concocted:


Gluten-Free, Blueberry Oat Pancakes (with a hint of Apricot White Stilton)

3/4 to 1 cup Pamela's Gluten-Free Pancake Mix
1 egg or 2 tbsp. applesauce
1/4 cup of water (or until desired consistency is reached)
dash of nutmeg
1/2 cup rinsed blueberries
1/2 cup crumbled Stilton cheese (I got mine at Trader Joe's)

Mix Pamela's with the egg, nutmeg, and water. Cook like you would normal pancakes. Keep pan over medium heat, spray it well with Pam or use butter (especially with gluten-free mix). Pour about 1/4 a cup batter onto pan, then add the blueberries and Stilton. Make sure you give the pancakes sufficient time to solidify before flipping (probably a minute per side). The savory flavor of a bit of cheese with the fruit in the pancakes is great with syrup! Enjoy.




For the record, that was my first doughnut from DD. Someday I won't even be tempted to eat there because I'll have invented the perfect gluten-free doughnut and it will be about ten times better.