Twisted Germans & Vinaigrette

Technically it's already tomorrow, again, but that's because I'm working on a knitting project I can't talk about.

Shhhhhh.

But don't worry...as soon as I can I'll illuminate this project here on the gutsy blog. Because it's the gutsiest thing...knitting-wise...I've ever done.

However! I will talk about ONE aspect of the project that I learned how to do that is incredibly fun. Look out for some knitting nerdiness (but all you non-knitters can skip to the paragraph after if you'd like).

Knitting Nerdiness: The Twisted German cast-on is the best thing since sliced bread. It's a stretchier cast-on than the normal knitted one, and thus it's perfect for any hems that need to stretch. Besides that, it's actually REALLY fun to do! For some reason, once you get the rhythm down, you feel like the coolest knitter in the world once you get it. Awesome. I seriously felt disappointed once I'd cast-on the necessary 60 stitches because I wanted to keep going. It's that fun.

Anyway.

Welcome back, non-knitters! My second gutsiness of the day involves salad dressing.

Here's the story...

We went out for lunch at Claim Jumper for my brother's (we'll call him Brother Bear) birthday, and all of us ordered fairly conservatively, knowing well how large the portions at CJ can be.

However, there was a snafu with my sister-in-law's (we'll call her Sister Bear...are you seeing a pattern, here?) order, and she ended up with a side salad BEFORE her meal and also WITH her meal. Not wanting to waste food--and knowing that I hadn't ordered a salad--she offered her second one to me.

I was grateful, but hesitant. I trust Sister Bear completely, of course. But there was something else...another element to consider, if you will.

You see...I have a strange relationship with salad dressings. Milk-based dressings...like ranch, caesar, and especially blue cheese--are totally fine with me. The closer they taste to cheese sauce the better.

But the dressing on Sister Bear's plate was not milk-based. It was balsamic vinaigrette...and what's the root in vinaigrette? Vinegar. My arch nemesis since my days cleaning tables at my first job, where it seemed like I would go home smelling like vinegar every day. It got to the point where I couldn't even look at vinegar without getting nauseated.

It's amazing how much doing a blog creates strange little catch-22s you didn't expect. Like knowing that balsamic vinaigrette angers me, but being powerless against it, because my own claim to gutsiness forbids that I quibble over such trivial things. Plus, I hated the idea of a whole salad going uneaten. My mother has taught me well.

So I took the salad, and I ate it. And you know what? The darn stuff was delicious. I couldn't believe it.

If you need me, I'll be over in the corner with egg on my face, munching on humble pie with a side of crow.

Okay. Maybe that was a bit melodramatic. But just a bit.

-The GLS