Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Conversations of late.

I knit publicly. I try to always have a little project* socked** away in my bag, so that if I unexpectedly happen into a block of unused time, I can fill it up by knitting, instead of fidgeting restlessly, reading anything in view, and fidgeting some more. This has proved to be a handy habit - one day, I was in a car accident - a minor fender bump, not my fault - but I still got to spend about an hour & a half, sitting in my car, watching the rain. And knitting! The police office who arrived to take my statement was very impressed with my industriousness. And prehaps my sanguine attitude - I really was quite content. I could've maybe had a purring cat & a cup of tea to complete the scene.

I also knit on the train. I've had a couple conversations with people who were knitters themselves (albeit private, closet knitters), and were commenting on either my technique or my projects. (I switched from knitting the way that pretty much everybody else here does - English style, with your yarn in your right - to Continental style, where the yarn acts like it's going to be crocheted, & curls lovingly about the fingers of your left hand. I look forward to someday holidaying in some far off & exotic locale, where all the knitters knit that way, to see how they do it. I taught myself, & I just recently realized that I was purling odd, so now I'm, alittle curous to see some working lace Continentally.)

(Should I warn you that today's post is about knitting? No? You've already guessed? Okay.)

I switched knitting styles to avoid getting carpal tunnel syndrome, because it's more efficient, & because the English style originated because when knitting moved up from the crofter's cottage to the lady's manor, it was considered that the motion of the hands wasn't very ladylike. So they changed it. To save my knuckles the wear & tear and to express my offence to 'them', I no longer knit that way.

S knits when she's a work, & she was telling me that people are always astonished, because "nobody does that anymore". I'd never had that response, although I had noticed that knitters are apparently regarded as exotic & possibly dangerous creatures, judging by the Transit Seat-Share Index***.

So when I was taking the train from the zoo to the spa, I was quite surprised to hear a man's voice over my shoulder: "Excuse me - are you knitting? You're knitting! I didn't think that people did that over here!" Turns out he's from Goa, INdia, & his grandmother knit jumpers up for them all the time. We had a brief discusssion about how knitting here is different, it's more of a luxury craft than a survival**** mechanism, and then I had to cut the conversation short as my top arrived. That's okay though, because he was shifitng the conversation from knitting to the fact that he met a Mexican (in Mexico), who knew where Goa was because of its 'like crazy weed, man'. In my experience with transit tales, a segue to drug stories inevitably ends in a cheezy pickup attempt. So do hat complimetns, actually.

At any rate, I'm off to put on my threatening cap, & continue to harrass people x about situation y, as per my mandte. (Don't worry, it's an office thing.)

*-Something small, that uses one color, that can have it's stitches dropped & pickedup again easily.

**-Not usually a sock, though.

***- You know - you get on a bus/train, and who do you want to sit next to? Nervous Asian women reading books are preferrable, because they're quiet & small. Big fat people eating potato chips are to be avoided, because they take up space & have greasy crumbs. (I know it sounds rude, but it's true. Sorry.) Goths usually are pretty cool. Avoid teenagers wth cell-phones, because like, Emily, seriously, Aaron was so into you at the mall, but you know, really...

**** - As much as I love knitting, & I think I would go bonkers if I didn' have it in my life, if I dropped my needles, my family wou;dn't go hungry or cold. ALthough there would be less yarn to help insulate the basement... really, it's my duty, I must struggle onwards! For the good of my family, I'm doing it.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

"And you know you've seen it all..."

Some days have automatic soundtracks. You wake up, and there’s a song in your head, & it just fits the day.
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So what kind of day am I headed for if I’ve got the Dead Kennedy’s “Holiday In Cambodia” in my head?
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Time will tell… but it could be rough on the engineers that are wrapped up in their own little worlds….
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Turns out, it led to a happy & productive morning, followed by a slump in the afternoon. Fits with punk, I guess - all strong agression, not much lasting power. I guess it's hard to sustain that level of energy. And yes, it's true, old punk has lasting appeal; but what about the new stuff? Blech.
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Also, I changed listening gears forcibly as I spent 55 minutes trying to get across the rush hour traffic into the zoo to pick up my zoo-camper. Agh. I think I would have started clubbing people with my Club if I hadn't changed tunes.
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Now, to go & wake the baby, then zoom to the chiro, then back to the zoo! Oh boy! Wish me luck with traffic!

Monday, August 18, 2008

The Perils Of Home Offices

My desk is small and I keep grabbing my mouse and instead of my mouse, I stick my fingers in my salsa con queso.
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Ah well. It could happen in the office too... although there, I'm into seven layer dip more than salsa.
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And at least it's less hazardous than tea. Because who hasn't dumped a cup of tea into their keyborad at one time or another?
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Oh. Well, if you're going to be all judge-y, then I'm headed back to work.*
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*Of the less creative office variety.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Old, Old, Old.

The man got to bed the other night & told me I was old. I blinked, a little taken aback.
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"We're both old. We Are Old. Z was watching the movie, and Right Before They Blew Up The Deathstar, she was like 'I'm bored & I'm going to go and read.'. And she left! Right Before They Blew Up The Deathstar! We're old."
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He seemed kind of shocked by it all. I've been letting my inner granny out to play with all sorts of things since I was, oh, 5 or six? (Liquid embroider anyone? Wheat weaving? Never mind the knitting & the sewing.) So I'm a bit split personality age-wise, in that yes, I quilt, & I knit, & I do All Sorts of Old-Fashioned Square* Things. I guess my inner granny & I, we sit & spin in the rocking chair, & we're content with being old. And then I stack blocks with my toddler, and I'm happy being young. And** then Z walks by, & I revel in being square. I prefer to think of it as flexibility, not confusion.
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Z is currently out with Auntie S, they're hiking. Than man has gone to the gym, & Am is sleeping the sleep of the small & exhausted. I'm puttering in the basement, not really accomplishing much, because really, I've already cut quite a swathe through my UFOs***, and not every moment of my time needs to be spent in frantic action. I think the frenzied push to Get Things Done has a little bit to do with grieving for Hugh, actually, and I need to take a deep breath, realize that yes, time may be short, but by cramming every second with action & obligations, life isn't that enjoyable.
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I'm debating starting a new project or two. I think I'll polish off some more UFOs first though, but I'm mulling, variously, knitted socks, using the two-at-a-time, two needle method, dye projects, lace-weight cardigans, striped sweaters & vests... Not to mention taking up painting, in the smaller art-work sense, as opposed to the larger, room-reno sense, which I am already quite proficient at, thank-you. Oh, and, um. Yes. There's never a lack of things to pick up & poke away at.
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Anyways. I'm off to go & wheedle two BBQ covers out of the enormous pile of green MWCN****, wish me luck.
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*Square, as in the out-of-date slang term, not as in the orthogonal shape. Although some of my projects are square, it's true.
**And I know I'm not supposed to start sentences, with "And", but I I can't help it. I like it. And I'm gonna.
***UFOs - Un Finished Objects
****MWCN - Medium Weight Coated Nylon - old fabric store speak.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Great Googelly Moogelly

Things that Z said last night whilst we were letting the Phantom Menace: Star Wars Episode I wander across the tv screen. Arranged in both chronological order & scale of astonishment....
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"I've never seen that movie."
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"No, none of them."
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"So the Jedis are the good guys?"
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Wow. I have been remiss, brother A___, you have been remiss, we have all been remiss. How can a child grow to be ten years old and reamin unaware of whether the Jedis are good guys or not?

Friday, August 08, 2008

Ooooooo!

So, I've been back from SK for most of a week. I think. I was there & back & there again, so it's hard top tell. It's also hard to tell because yesterday felt like it was 14 years long.
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Why? Well, my poppet*, because of something that I plan on entering into my vocaublary of curse word: MOLARS. Am was pushing one molar for sure, maybe more, and she woke at midnite & every 15-20 minutes thereafter, screaming in agony, vibrating, & generally being understandably upset.
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I kept her company. In the literal, hugging, rocking, soothing, s'shing manner, of course, not the figurative, let-me-join-you spiritual way that involves me also pitching a fit, because solidarity rules.
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Although about 4:23am or so, I was tempted. Luckily, I was distracted by the fact that in 7 more minutes, Am could have another does of Tylenol, sweet sweet** Tylenol.
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Of course, there was hardly even a dreg left in the bottle, much to my horror. Luckily, the 1/2 dreg was just enough to allow the poor girl a rerieve from her molars, & she finally fell into a light sleep. Poor thing.
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I was quite shocked that the bottle was empty, as it's quite new, & didn't even have that nice sticky patina that baby Tylenol bottles seem to acquire. Then I was chatting with a coworker, and she commented that yes, they're such ridiculous little bottles. I looked at it when I got home - and yes! They are! Ridiculous little bottles. 24 mL. And when Am's dose is 2 mL, every 4 hours, well. The sticky bottle runneth empty, indeed.
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Speaking of other ridiculous things... (random, too. Did I mention that? Do I need to mention that?)...
1) I finally had the lightbulb I've been waiting for vis-a-vis C's babe S's crib skirt. Here's a hint: BROCCOLI! (Pictures will follow.)
2) The number one sign that your niece is not a budding fashionista: Vogue is pronounced vog-you. As in "Hey Aunt Kourtney, that vog-you magazine upstaris... (And no, I'm not mocking her. THat's a reasonable way to pronounce the word, esp. since it's all in caps on the magazine cover. I just can't remember ever not knowing that it's Vogue. In fact, trying to think up how to phonetically spell Vogue is making my brian short out a little bit. So we'll move on.)
3) I think we should enter the Internet Village Fete. http://belgianwaffling.blogspot.com/2008/08/village-fte-rules.html I found it because of Antonia at Whoopee. And I'll put a link in later, if you don't want to go & look at the sideabr, because the wee*** one is awake. After she slept**** all night! What a sweet girl.
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Later skaters!
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*Poppet. A real word, contrary to Z's initial belief.
**Sweet Tylenol - figurative use of the word "sweet". Have you tasted that crap? Bleh.
***Comparitive. A is smaller than Z.
****I think. Either the man didn't turn the monitor on last night when he plugged it in (unlikely), or I turned it off in my sleep. More likely, but I'm trying to comfort myself because a) I would have heard Am anyways, if she's been crying, it just would have been once she hit "I"M FREAKING THE F%&** OUT HERE PEOPLE" instead of "Waah" & b) she was crashed in pretty much the same position as when I put her down last night. Tired girl.