If You Give a Guy a Knife...

Joe is turning the big THREE-O on July 27th and I have been feeling the pressure for months to get him something nice and to ease the trauma of turning 30 for him a bit. He is such a challenging person to shop for because he usually buys things he wants before he ever lets on that he wants them. Or maybe he has dropped subtle hints that I have missed. Sometimes subtlety isn't my thing. Joe also isn't the kind of guy to dig "handmade treasures" as I mentioned in my previous post, unless, of course, that handmade treasure is edible...and I imagine that is the case with most dudes.

I wanted to give him something that would last for years. Since he's not big on jewelry and techie things generally become obsolete within a few years, I decided to appeal to one of his manly, yet refined, sensibilities. A chef's knife. He can use it forever (unless something goes horribly, horribly wrong.) I remembered a knife set that caught his eye when we were at Sur la Table one time. The only problem was that the entire set is way out of my price range, so I got the 8 inch chef's knife and 4 inch utility knife for smaller jobs.

They are as gorgeous as knives can possibly be!

Maybe we can add to his collection with other special occasions...you know, a meat cleaver here...a bread knife there. That sort of thing. Before he knows it, he'll have the complete set, and I won't have to run up my credit card, which, due to the austerity program, has a zero balance these days thankyouverymuch! I'm not paying those fockers another cent of interest. Anyways... in the process of buying the knives for Joe, I learned that there are several things that must accompany the gift of a super sharp blade.

If you give a guy a knife, you must also give him a friendship penny.

If you give a guy a knife, you must also give him bandages.

If you give a guy a knife, you must also give him a knife handling class.

If you give a guy a knife, you must hold your breath and hope he does not sever any of his digits (or veins, or arteries, or tendons belonging to said digits).

Shhh...don't tell him. (I know he doesn't read this blog so I figure the secret is safe.)

Handmade Treasures & Rosa

Teaching summer school, chasing puppies, and evening college classes are keeping me pretty busy as of late, so that's my excuse for the lack of blogging this week. However, I wanted to share a little treat someone gave me. Yesterday I received a lovely gift from one of my aunts. She is a talented crocheter and made me a "TCU purple" afghan with grape hyacinth bouquets in the pattern. She called me about a month ago and asked what my favorite color is. I adore it! It is lovely, practical, and enduring. Every time I use it I will think of the love that went into creating it. Handmade gifts are special like that.

Within the last couple of years, I decided I want to learn how to crochet. In fact, I refuse to buy any knitted blankets or throws from Pottery Barn or Crate & Barrel because I always think--I could make that for much cheaper than what they want for this blanket! Guess I'd better get on it!

My grandmother made afghans when I was growing up, and we dragged them out for sleepovers or when we just needed some extra warmth in colder months. She taught me how to knit when I was much younger, but it was only for a few minutes on an afghan she'd been working on. I'd have no idea where to even start if I attempted it now. My aunt offered to teach me, and I think I am going to take her up on it.

On a totally unrelated note: I wanted to update y'all on the Kiva.org loan I made back in December to a Peruvian, lady-entrepreneur named Rosa. She paid lenders back months earlier than the term of the loan. Yay, Rosa! Granted, these are micro loans, and it was only $25, but I was still pleasantly surprised and genuinely happy for Rosa. And so, today, I found another Peruvian lady (Maria Teresa) to help out through Kiva. I need to pony up some more money to help out others because $25 is really piddly.

The Look Says it All

Poor Harry. He just tolerates the puppies when they jump on him, pull his tail, and steal his thunder. I wonder what's going on in that head of his these days. If you ask me, I think Harry's contemplating this puppy's "accidental" disappearance.

The puppies will be 8 weeks old this weekend, and they are becoming more bold by the day. Each time we let them play outside of their playpen, they venture a little farther from their comfort zones. They retrieve lost socks from beneath the couch and hide them in their dog bed and tug on my new curtains. Phoebe has weaned them and she growls if they nudge at her belly. But when she is not fending puppies off, she herds them close to their pen. It's pretty funny. She has ditched sleeping with them and is back sleeping with Joe and me. Thankfully, Pheebs is eating well and putting on weight these days. Ideally, the breeder will take her pick within the next couple of weeks and we can begin bonding with the puppy we are keeping.

Aside from being adventurous and super adorable, puppies make great blemish concealers and face-thinning apparatus. I wish I could carry them around like this all of the time. They would get in a lot less trouble, and who doesn't love puppy breath?

Wonder what the guy on the left is thinking. Probably something like, "Dear God, please help me!"