This past weekend was perhaps the last empty, quiet weekend we'll have until at least June...and more likely October. Warm weather weekends have a way of filling up around here, which is fine since that means we're off doing fun stuff. But do-nothing weekends can be quite nice, too, and the one we just had was perfect.

Saturday we stayed home the entire day. Upon waking, we took our coffee to the living room where we spent a couple luxurious hours lazing around, Rob with his laptop and geek magazines and me with my knitting. Rob hopped up at 11 to tune the radio to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, and at that point we realized we were hungry. Time for brunch! Usually we make french toast or scrambled eggs, but this morning for some inexplicable reason we ended up with grits, bacon, and cornbread muffins. (Our Southern is showing.)

After brunch I think we may have gone back to the living room for more lazing, although I honestly can't remember. I do know that in the afternoon we took a walk and did some work outside. But by 6 we were once again settled in the living room, listening to A Prairie Home Companion. (NPR is so often the soundtrack of our weekends.) Rob did more of whatever he was doing and I did more knitting until we decided once again that we were hungry. So dinner was made, and eaten, and then we carried our wine glasses back to the living room where we stayed put until bedtime. A glorious day.

As was Sunday, but in a different way. The morning began the same - coffee and quiet tasks in the living room. But by mid-morning we were in motion. We went grocery shopping, stopping by a nearby bagel shop for breakfast. Back at home, there was some tidying to be done before leaving again for an afternoon hike with my brother. I went to yoga at 4 and then hurried home to help Rob with dinner, which we'd invited his parents to come over for. After a nice visit with them, we cleaned up the kitchen and then made our way back to - I'm sure you can guess - the living room, our weekend nest.

our home filled with friends

This is a recipe from Cooking Light, although I've tweaked a few small things. (The original version is here.) We've made this a couple times now and really like it. Great with a baked sweet potato and broccoli.

I imagine kids would like helping with the dredging part, as there's a fun little assembly line of messy things to dip the pork chops in. That's assuming your kids are willing to touch raw meat, though. That always grossed me out. (In college when I was cooking for myself, chicken was the only meat I would consider making, but I couldn't handle the ick factor of preparing it, so my mom bought me rubber gloves so I wouldn't have to touch it directly.) I'm over it now, although somehow the task of trimming meat almost always falls to Rob.

1 slice whole wheat bread, toasted and torn into pieces
1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon mustard
2 large egg whites
4 (4-ounce) boneless pork loin chops, trimmed
1 1/2 tablespoons canola oil

Place bread in a food processor or blender; pulse bread 10 times or until coarse crumbs measure about 1 cup. Combine breadcrumbs, cheese, sage, and pepper in a shallow dish. Place flour in another shallow dish. Combine mustard and egg whites in another shallow dish, stirring with a whisk.

Working with one pork chop at a time, dredge pork in flour, shaking off excess. Dip pork into egg white mixture, allowing excess to drip off. Coat pork completely with breadcrumb mixture. Set aside. Repeat procedure with remaining pork, flour, egg white mixture, and breadcrumb mixture.

Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add oil to pan, swirling to coat. Add pork; cook 5-6 minutes on each side or until browned and done. (Cooking with the lid on will keep pork chops juicy.)

Life is feeling particularly full right now. Full in a good way, like a nightstand stacked with books or a basket piled with yarn or a stomach stretched after a satisfying meal.

Surely the start of spring has something to do with it. The daffodils peeked out this week, and although a chill still hangs in the morning air, there's a promise of warmth to come. Sunlight becomes a little stronger and longer each day, and each week is now a significant step forward. We can feel the progress.

At the same time, Rob and I have had a plentitude of quiet moments, a whole string of wonderfully empty evenings and weekends to while away as we please. Even as we've made steps toward spring, we've felt a near suspension in time. We're about to enter into a busy, tumbling time of year, but for now, in this brief transition between seasons, we've had minutes and hours to spare.

For me, it's been a time of creating. And I think this is the crux of my contentment. The knitting, for sure, has been a newfound pleasure. Acquiring a skill is always satisfying, and particularly gratifying is learning to make something. Especially when the process is so beautifully simple. But there's also been time to enjoy, perhaps more than usual, other kinds of creation. Like creating meals in the kitchen. Creating order in a chaotic closet. Creating, with words, a cohesive collection of thoughts.

Not to mention making plans. Such as my ever-growing list of projects, of things to do. Things to knit, to paint, to plant, to cook, to write, to read. Things to revel in.

been reading: Yarn Harlot by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

So I'm giving knitting another go. I started a scarf back in 2004 only to get frustrated and declare myself a complete knitwit. I became, if you will, a bit unraveled. But lately I've had an itching for wool, been needled with an urge to pick knitting back up. Because seriously, the puns alone make it worth it.

Last time around, I was given a five-minute lesson by a coworker. I only learned knit stitch, and had no clue about needle sizes, yarn weights, or any of that. The yarn I chose wasn't a good match for my needles, and although I finished about one-third of the scarf, it was not fun or relaxing and so I stopped.

This time, I got a proper lesson at my local yarn shop. On the way to the shop, I drove behind a truck hauling sheep. Woolly yarn-bearing sheep. I considered this a blessing on my knitting endeavor.

And so far, it has been. Sure, over the weekend I ripped out my first several attempts and almost declared myself a yarn moron again, but I persevered with shear determination. (Shear? Get it? Yeah okay, I'll stop.) My starter project is simple, but more complicated than the scarf, and so far it's going well. And last evening I even dug out that scarf again and it's actually knitting up quite nicely.

With the knitting has come the desire to re-read Yarn Harlot. I read it when I started the first time, and it has been just as delightful the second time through. This is a blog turned book, so it's filled with short, silly stories. About knitting. And this woman is crazy for knitting - emphasis on crazy. For example, her yarn stash is so huge that she keeps skeins in the freezer and stuffs them in the empty spaces of her piano. It's a fun, frivolous read. Great gift for the knitter in your life.

spent knitting with a cat on my lap