Sunday, February 22, 2009

Those Army Cookies

ANZAC biscuits that we've taken to various events have been well appreciated by folk here. They can't quite get to grips with the name of the bikkies, though, and continue to ask about "Those army cookies".
In other yarn-obsession-related news, I finally finished a crochet seat cover for the computer chair:

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Beer toys

The toys we ordered with various Christmas-present-beershop-vouchers arrived last week. The innocuous-looking rectangle of metal below is an elegant way of quickly cooling 23L of boiling liquid down to a temperature appropriate for pitching yeast.



And here's a bottle-washer that I've been stalking since back in Palmy - it connects to the tap in the sink, and when an inverted bottle depresses one of the nozzles it releases a jet of water inside the bottle. Even better, this bottle washer has two nozzles which suits me down to the ground, since I totally have two hands, each capable of holding a bottle.


The bottle washer also comes with an attachment for carboys:


Today, while Mort was at his beer-judging class, Johanna took me for a little (9.5km) hike up Dimple Hill (starting from Chip Ross Park) to make use of a sunny day. In the background is part of Corvallis and the Willamette Valley. The ranges in the distance are the Southern Cascades.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Not completely Winter

Today I left work before the sun set. I cycled without a jacket under a clear blue sky full of contrails* and robins, and didn't get cold. That's not completely Winter, is it? And why? What could have brought on this aberrantly sunny weather, when six weeks ago all was white and frozen? What changed? Global warming? No.
Six weeks ago I had not finished my latest pair of socks - Norwegian-style Winterscarers.



Yesterday we saw our first nutria (a.k.a. coypu) - on the bank of the stream around the corner from our house. It looked like a giant guinea-pig with the fur of a beaver and the tail of a rat. It was being watched, from a respectful distance, by a cat. The nutria was not concerned. There was grass to eat.

* Sometimes contrails are little better than graffiti; I dread to think what the pilot may have drawn had fuel been less expensive...