In the traditional sense. They were always cranky women with white hair, using a combination of what we now call psychology, botany, and chemistry (then called 'magic') to cook up all kinds of wondrous - and sometimes freaky - things in their kitchens. That's me to a T, wouldn't you say? (They were also the village healers and midwives. I've had EMT training and I bet I could deliver a baby if I had to.)
Of course they used secret code to transmit their knowledge, going for off-the-wall, romanticized (creepiziced?) ingredient names. And while I've regularly used eye of newt (mushrooms), and the wing of bat (holly leaves) is out in the yard, I've got some goodies on the hob today.
How about dust of mummy and sacrificial blood? Bwahahahahahaha. (This may become a Knitty article. If not, I'll post a full explanation here, when possible. For now, imagine me stirring a pot and chanting Rolling Stone lyrics, preferably "Honky-Tonk Woman".)
Finally washed the first half of the Frog in a Blender yarn, and took decent photos.
Working on the second half, now. 'Cause the new wool is due today or tomorrow and of course I wanna dive right in on it. (Purple Trainwreck? Never heard of it.)
Caught the Goob in her natural habitat today.
That dress is a five and it barely fits her. I remember when we bought it, it almost dragged on the floor. Now her knees show. And speaking of pink, that's the first thing I ever let her pick out in the way of clothing. Not only is it pink, it's got flowers all over it. Her choice, not my fault. haha.
At the moment the Goob is cruising my cook books and telling me they're "pretty". I sense a galley slave in the future.
My office looks like this.
I fear I may need to clean it soon.
Am considering brewing an indigo vat. Anyone know how bad they smell? I'm not that fond of my neighbors. [Insert evil laugh.] Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. I met a gin-soaked bar room queen in Memphis...