Yarn-A-Go-Go

Amazing

Bethany called and left me a message yesterday while I was sleeping. It said, "I wish you were awake, because I'm on the ferry back from Bainbridge Island and I just went to Churchmouse Yarns and Tea."

Ooooh, the little....

She was with her friend Kevin, who is absolutely crazy. Besides being crazy, his best party trick, he's also the worst knitter I've ever met. He once went from twenty stitches to fifty-five stitches in one row. And on the next row he was back down to about seven. It's like he he holds the yarn and two needles and then waves his arms in the air really really fast. What happens, happens.

Oh, hey, the marathon site's back up. Heartfelt thanks also go to these shin supporters:
Rachel T.
Catherine M.
Wendy W.
Krista S.
Sharon

(Have I missed anyone? Have I missed a link? Please let me know if I have.... )

I continue to be blessed and amazed. I work in job in which I see the worst of people. I drive on freeways where people will flip you off as soon as look at you. But I'm surrounded by The Amazing, all the time. Like you all.

And I saw it happen again today. I need a little cushion of money in my bank account in order to shop for a condo, just to sit there and make it LOOK like I've got money just resting there. Yeah. Right. Let's just say this: The only cushion I've got is what I'm sittin' on at this moment. I'd been debating asking one of my best friends if she'd loan me a little for the next six months. It took me a long, long time to get the gumption and the nerve to ask her, and when I did today, she said "Of course. Do you need more?" No, I didn't, but it was so nice to be asked. She's getting a sweater, I can tell you that.

And Daisy-Winifred sent me the nicest email.

And my coworker Gina bought me Atomic Fireballs, one of those weird cravings that I've had for the last week.

And one of our volunteers brought dispatch a box of Krispy Kremes, still warm.

It's a good life. Food helps. So do friends. Love someone up this weekend, okay? It sounds cheesy, and like I'm tossing that phrase off lightly, but I'm not. Love on someone. Enjoy what's right in front of you. Oh, and go see Cari, because her photo-blog ROCKS.

Em, Forgive Me,

but I went to Starbucks yesterday (I went for a group of people at work, I swear), and they were playing Emmylou Harris.

I was so sad. It was bad enough that I was there. But Emmylou? C'mon, honey, you didn't have to. Or, no! I know it was your label that must have sold you out.... The horror. The shame. We'll pretend I didn't hear it at all, okay?

With Chandra's permission, may I present my favorite Knitting is Sexy shirt picture?

Of course, all proceeds from the Knitting is Sexy Cafepress store go right to Team911, which leads gracefully (don't mind me shoving) into a Running Update.

Shin splints SUCK. Have you noticed my feelings about them? Have I been as clear as I think I have? Oh, probably. You're most likely rolling your eyes right now and stretching your legs. Sure, stand up and bounce on your toes a little, feel your strong healthy calves, enjoy the feeling of sheer power. Or something like that.

Me? I'm getting up every hour or so and walking around, taking ibuprofen like it's illegal, doing my stretches. But I gotta tell you (and I might amend this tomorrow), it's not too bad today. I ran the 3 miles yesterday afternoon before work, and while it hurt with each step (but not bad, Mom, I swear!), it wasn't that bad. And tonight I only hurt a little more than I did yesterday. I think I might be getting stronger. And the new wedges in my shoes might be helping, too. Who knows? All I know is I did it, and aside from the whole leg thing, it felt fantastic. (I realized while running how ludicrous that statement is. Yeah, running feels GREAT. Except that my legs hurt. Dur.)

And I *really* wanted to shout out my folks who have recently supported Team 911 by clicking on that little link over to the right, but when I just logged in, they were updating the site, and I couldn't get all the names. But John in Seattle, thank you! Not only are you Mariko's pal, but you're mine, too, babe. Who else was on there? Hmmm. Oh, I think Ann was on there again! And Rosenblum's big ole contribution showed up yesterday, too! Seriously, go buy one of their bottles of wine. I can't believe how much they've supported us, and I couldn't be any happier about them. The rest of you, I'll thank you publicly as soon as the site comes back up.... We're getting closer and closer to getting the team there!

Yow!

Happy dance! I mean it, stretch those shins, darlings!

I have to go change. Digit just drooled ALL over me. Yuck.

Fixed

Dude, I fixed the computer! Actually, WE fixed the computer. I installed Spyware Blaster, SpyBot S&D, AdAware, and moved to the Mozilla Firefox browser (which is totally faster, you're right). Take THAT! So in celebration, here are some pictures!

Ann, me, and Bethany, Bay Bridge behind us.

These next pictures require explanation. Bethany and I had heard of a South Pacific product store in San Leandro (Mangal's on E. 14th) and we've been trying to get there during store hours for a while. (Mom's from NZ, and the parents met while they were both living in Western Samoa. I know way more about taro than I ever wanted to.) We got there yesterday, and boy howdy. We found a bunch of things we wanted (PavlovaMagic in a plastic egg, TimTams -- they were out of Vegemite, but I have another source for that) and saw a bunch of things that we assuredly did NOT want.

Like these:

Lamb brains. Yum! Not just for dinner anymore.

We were able to pass up the chicken flavoured potato chips, but Bethany couldn't resist trying these:

Yep, tasted like burgers. She would have chucked them in the nearest bin, but I wanted a picture first. And yes, that's my small haul from ArtFibers. Kyoto, and it just gleams.

And are you ready for it?

That's Bethany leaving.... (See Tach's cool new flames?) Wave, everyone! (And think good thoughts for me -- I'm trying to psyche myself into running. I'd taken the last week off, as the shin splints were getting SO bad, and I'm off now to try the Lake.)

Laundry Day

Had a wonderful, awesome time with Ann yesterday. Unfortunately, haven’t had time to fix my ‘puter, so no pictures yet, but know that yes, she really is that sweet. We shopped at ArtFibers (I only got two balls of red silk that actually GLOW, their sheen is so bright) and we walked to the ferry terminal and then came back and had lunch with new friend Janine and old friends Kira and Rachel. Then we came back to my house and had my favorite part of yesterday – we sat outside and knitted, talking and drinking tea and eating my mother’s AMAZING fruitcake (which was a surprise b-day gift to me, and it couldn’t have come at a better time). Just swinging on the porch swing, just talking yarn and little boys and cabbages and kings.

Miss you already, Ann. Hope you found your way to the next house o’fun....

So I’m sweeping this morning. Okay, afternoon, since I get up so late on my Monday. I’ve already been doing laundry, washing all my stuff and a few things Bethany asks me to wash before she jumps back on the road.

I’m sweeping with a vengeance. I hate cat hair and it’s a constant battle. At least hardwood floors show the dirt and are easy to clean. Bethany’s on the couch under her blanket, the one I made her years ago that I’ve been watching for her, the one that’s going with her to Montana. She offers to help by lifting the living room table. Fabulous. She lifts, forgets her glass of chocolate milk that’s on TOP, which hits the couch and then the floor, breaking into a gajillion pieces. We’re both, of course, barefoot.

So I stay in place and yell at the cats, who decide that broken glass is cool, while she jumps into the only shoes at hand, snow boots (from always-thoughtful Greta), and clomps through the house, getting broom and pan for her hyperventilating sister. She helps me sweep for a while, wearing a tee-shirt, clutching the blanket around her waist, tripping over the tassels in her huge snow boots while she pokes the broom under tables.

It finally hits me.

“Are you WEARING anything under that blanket?”

Sheepish. “You’re washing all my clothes.”

“All?”

Sweep, sweep is my only answer.

That was so funny to me I wasn’t even annoyed anymore. Heh.

She gets on the road today for Montana, her wintering spot. Hopefully she’ll be able to blog from there, ‘cause I’m personally gonna miss the crap out of her. And her blanket, too.

Pop-up HELL

You know in Impromptu when Emma Thompson says, “stupid, stupid rain”? Well, that’s what I’m saying about my laptop. Stupid, stupid computer! I can’t bear to work like this – I type a few letters and then my cursor disappears and lands on an effing pop-up, so this is a very brief entry. I need a five hour block of time to fix this stupid thing (and you all ROCK for the suggestions), and I’m not going to get that until tomorrow, I think. Oy.

So, two quick things: I saw The Producers last night. Wow. It deserves the hype. It brought back memories of high school and college, of being SO into musicals, and traveling long distances to gaze at the boys draped on the Les Mis barricade. Of course, last night's show was loud and funny and farcical, but it brought back that glitz and glam. I was in small musical productions when I was in college, and because of that I can’t help catching what I think are knowing glances between cast members and speculating on which dancer hates which singer the most. It really was fabulously well done, and we had a blast.

And today, I’m seeing someone very special. And we’re going shopping. Heh. It’s going to be a flipping good day.

Vines

There are these blackberries outside my window, wrapped around George, the giant aloe vera (wait, it's not a metaphor, I swear) that are the sweetest damn things I've ever tasted. They're like magic. I can't seem to pick a bad one. Even the ones that have cobwebs on them don't bother me. They're best warm from the sun (like tomatoes). I think I ate one with a bug in it yesterday, and I didn't even care. Just kept chewing.

They're not mine, actually. They belong to the house next door. Their yard is almost my yard since they don't have a fence up yet. When talking to the neighbor one afternoon (why won't his name stay in my head?), I asked if it was okay that I steal some berries from time to time (read: every morning when I get home from work). He said sure, that they weren't very good anyway. Then I made the classic mistake by telling him the truth: "NO, they're INSANELY good." He tried one, and agreed. Darn it. Now he knows, and there are fewer berries for me.

In my future, way down the road, when I get settled, when I move into a place where I can put things right into the ground without thought of transplant, I'm planting blackberry vines. I know they're a noxious weed, but I have to have 'em. That and a sheep.

I don't have much weekend coming up -- I have to work Saturday night, and the rest of the weekend is filled with to-dos (including one fun one: going to The Producers on Sunday). I need to spend some time working on my dang computer. (I realized I spent 18 hours yesterday looking at computer screens -- 12 at work, 6 at home dealing with the crash and subsequent discovery of the spyware nest.) You've all given me fabulous suggestions of downloads, so I'll add a few more and work on killing those bugs. Such a major pain. Clear your cookies, folks. And eat some, too.

We lost this round.

Addressing Democrats, House Majority Leader Tom DeLay summed up the arguments on both sides at the start of the debate. "You think this bill is cruel and we think same-sex marriage is a contradiction in terms," DeLay, R-Texas, said.

Yeah. It is cruel. I have to move to Canada.

*** Added later, on second thought. Screw that. While I still want to move to Canada someday, I will not be driven out of my country by people who think I deserve fewer rights than they do because they don't fully understand love or its different manifestations. Let's keep fighting, shall we? Togther.

Questions

Go, Marie, go! She finished her wave-along stole! Check it out, isn't it gerjess?

I love how alluring it looks, leaning provocatively on the fence like that.

All right, so I ran AdAware and Spybot S&D (thank you for your suggestions!), and I'm hoping that's all I need to do for now. I ran 'em at work, too, on the shared computer, and the pop-ups are still happening. Blast it all.

Eh. Enough complaining about computer woes. We've all got them, haven't we? Why can't it just be easy? Why can't there be life without crashes? (You, Mac people, put your hands down. I know you know the answer.)

Instead, I gotta show you this:

Best? Fire?

It's on all sides of the building, and I've wondered about it/at it for years now. Was it someone with limited English skills who just liked the way question marks looked? Or perhaps the printer mistook exclamation points for question marks? Perhaps it was meant to be Best! Fire! But in that case: Huh?

Dunno. But it rocks Oak-town, yo.

Dickens

I’ve spent the last two and a half hours reinstalling my operating system, which had somehow become corrupted, and now I’m having the dickens of a time logging on to the internet. I’m finally in, but I think the nefarious spyware has latched on to my computer’s innards. I have a strong feeling spyware is a catchall phrase, much like shin splints. My computer keeps throwing all these OFFICIAL, IMPORTANT, READ THIS AND CLICK THIS LINK TO GET RID OF SPYWARE SO YOU DON'T DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH pages at me from my System Administrator, only I can’t help thinking my sys admin would have better grammar. So I ain’t clickin’, but if anyone’s got a good way of dealing with this, lemme know. I need to find a very very small, very very smart child and send him into the depths of my HP Pavilion with a scrub brush. The 21st century American equivalent of the chimney sweep child labor force of 18th century England.

Erg.

But while ye olde laptop was chugging away, resetting itself (bless its electronic neurons and CD backups), I was forced to use the phone. I got a ton of things done, those phone calls I’ve been putting off, like calls to credit card companies. My mortgage broker (isn’t it funny that I have one of those and yet have no mortgage?) thought I should call my credit cards and ask them to raise my credit limit without checking my credit score, as a courtesy. I need to get my score raised by one measly point. Welp, those phone answerers answered the way you might think, with incredulity and a remarkable lack of politeness. Providian and CitiPlatinum, bite me. Just because I don’t know the rules doesn’t mean you should scoff at me. Simply explain that it doesn’t work that way (even though I bet it COULD, iffen you wanted it to). Don’t get so bitchy that I feel horrible that my silly question has had an impact on your personal and social life.

Double erg.

I believe this calls for ice cream.

Brick Joy

So. Anyway.

Ahem.

See, I’m finding it hard to think of what to write today, because I had a good date last night. I know, I’m not dating. You’re totally right. Completely anti-dating, me. But come on, she’s a knitter who plays the banjo in an old-time band. I had to meet her. I was surprised I hadn’t already.

I had fun. That’s all I’m sayin’. (I ‘fessed when I found her blog and anted up with mine, so this is not a secure channel, as we say at work.)

And as we return to our previously scheduled broadcasting, I present to you Brick Joy:

Specs:
Yarn: Fairy Hare Softie: Merino/Angora blend, 4 skeins
Pattern: Debbie Bliss pattern, Cotton for all Seasons
Size: 38in
Gauge: Let’s call it 20st/4in, since I’m too lazy to look it up (to pattern specs).
Needles: 5US

Then I got distracted by the purdy flowers:

And my favorite (for so many reasons), the nicotiana:

Digit tried to help with the photo-shoot:

She ain’t being modeled, not for any shyness factor (you know me better than that) but because she needs a zipper, and I haven’t got around to picking up one yet. And I might not today, either. Today, I’m throwing myself a little Alone Party (at least until I go to work tonight). Yeah, not that anyone would remember this but me, but last week I said Saturday would be my alone day. Then I agreed to work for a friend, all good. Then I said, firmly, assuredly, that Monday would be my alone day. Bethany was supposed to be on the road home to Mom’s that day, and I would hide away, watching TV and knitting and not answering the phone or checking email.

Bethany, however, was such a sweet loving little person yesterday, and did NOT want to leave. We had lunch with Christy and Kira and Rachel at Cafe Colucci (best Ethiopian this side of Harrar), and then went shopping (the other thing I swore I would not do yesterday) at the East Bay Depot for Creative ReUse, which is a fancy name for Place With a Lot o’Junk for Real Cheap.

But dude, I fully scored. Check:

(The chair, not the cat.) And the backs in the sun:

I’ve been eyeing chairs like this to go with my formica table (given to me by my friend Laura), and they usually price out at around fifty bucks each. Kitsch is in. Vinyl is hot. These puppies? I led the green young man up to the front and outside, where five of these were languishing in the sun and dirt, and asked how much. “Geez. I don’t know. Two fifty each? Or all five for ten?” This is the same place I got the Cascade Sierra for fifty cents a skein. Just like last time, I nodded slowly. “Oh, all right. I suppose I’ll take them.”

Rachel helped me spit and polish them—lord, they were dirty—and I’m in love. Look at those legs! Hooray!

Oh. Tangent, sorry. Alone day. Anyway, around five-thirty yesterday I started to ask Bethany what time Mom expected her to arrive (the folks live four hours away).
“I still have to call her,” Bethany said.
“So call her,” I said, sitting on the couch, icing my shins.
“When I get up and find my cell phone.”
“Let me get it for you. Here. I found it for you. Want me to dial?”
She tells Mom she’ll leave in another hour. One hour later I say, “Won’t Mom be upset if you’re late?”
“I just wanna hang out a little longer here with you.”
“But you don’t want to let Mom down.... She’d be so sad.”
“She won’t mind.”
“YOU HAVE TO GO NOW OR I’M GOING TO LOSE MY FREAKING MIND!”
“I’m out.”

Beth’s such a good egg. She didn’t mind that I kinda flipped, and she got out of my hair pretty darn quick after that. Of course, I only had a couple of hours alone before I had to leave for said date, but I regained some composure in those few hours. That alone time, man. I don’t know how you mothers do it. I firmly believe that’s why bathtubs come standard in most homes. They’re an escape. Hey. Good idea. I’m off to escape right now. (Long-ass post. I guess I thought of something to say.)