Z is for zest. My fridge is currently full of bald citrus, mostly lemons, because I love me a little citrus-y zing in holiday cooking (and drinking) and also preserved fruit and peel for eating out of hand. I've tried many gadgets to part peel and fruit: graters, vegetable peelers, paring knives, zesters. Some methods produce fine crumbs, some strips of varying width and length. All tasty, yet the zealous quest for the perfect zest remains ongoing, the goal elusive. Not least among my desiderata: consistent pith-free Z-twist twists.
Z is for zero-g. BIL dearly wants to experience weightlessness. As a trip into outer space seems unlikely, he's dreaming of a parabolic flight (USD $3,000+ for one day of 15 flights).
Z is for ZZZZs. At this over-scheduled time of year, I'm always longing for that "long winter's nap." Staying up late obsessively playing Zuma doesn't help.
Z is for Zeneedle. It seems deeply fitting to have started the year and this photoessay series with Anne, founder of the feast, and to end it with Zeneedle and the eXcellent contest for finishers. I've enjoyed the challenges of the ABC-Along (despite occasional lapses) and often have been moved by the essays of other participants. Many thanks go to Anne and Margene for a special fiber-y year, in alphabetical order!
And Z is for zibelline, the ultra-luxe fur or fiber of the sable, Martes zibellina, and fabrics made of the same. What Eartha Kitt, Jhene, Kylie Minogue, Macy Gray, Madonna, Marilyn Monroe, the Pussycat Dolls, and Vonda Shepard all want Santa Baby to slip under the tree.