« January 2005 | Main | March 2005 »
Am I the only one in the whole world who thought Million Dollar Baby was (boxing scenes aside) overblown and emotionally manipulative? I was so MAD at that movie. And (no spoilers) I don't mind a movie that makes me weep, not at all. Give me some Steel Magnolias. But this, no. No, thanks.
This delighted me. Yet another good-writin' Stephanie from Canada. What up widdat? I will utilize point 5c tonight at the show. Yup.
And because I've got nothing else for ya right now -- what I'm working on now:
Wool-ease. Yes, really. Yet another retro-prep, because that's the best pattern ever. Mindless knitting. I'm loving it.
And me? Mindless, as well. Have a great weekend, all. Oscars AND the L Word on Sunday night, what could be better?
One more night (tonight) at work and then I'm off for four days. Tomorrow night I'm going to Janine's Dulaan knit-in (has anyone lately written about how freaking great Janine is? And it's not just because she is generous and warm and sweet, but she's also smart and funny and a brilliant designer, and she's the best thing to come out of the Pacific Northwest in a long time. Ryan, darlin', I know you miss her. But I'm so glad you introduced us via email those months ago). Oh, and you did all see Cuzzin Tom has a website now, right? He's going to Mon-frickin'-golia, as Ryan says. I can't even imagine how the internet works out there. (Aside: When my friend was in Ethiopia, I was trying to teach her dad how to use email. He never quite got it, because I was never effective at explaining exactly HOW the email knew how to find her. He thought it was like throwing a letter into the wind and hoping it found the right continent.)
Oh, and then after the knit-in, Lala's band The Whoreshoes is playing at the Odeon (really late, like when-the-Spaniards-eat late). You should come. They're super. And I would say that even if I weren't all head-over-heels. (Although if I weren't, and didn't know her, and saw the band, I'd totally hit on her. It was bound to happen eventually.)
And hey, while I'm a mad and crazy linker, a huge shout-out goes to Tracy, who rescued Lala the other night while she was searching her trunk for the change needed to order the best burrito in the world. Tracy said something like, "Not to sound weird and all, but are you Lala? Rachael's girlfriend?" And then they chatted and she gave Lala the last fifty cents she was short. I owe you, girl. Come to the show, I'll buy you a drink.
Then I pulled my cast-on (180 stitches) bottom of a sweater out of my bag and pulled the needle right out of about fifteen stitches. I was still on the first row, so I put 'em back on with some difficulty. It wasn't until row four that I noticed I'd twisted it when I'd replaced the original stitches.
Grrr.
I'm going to drive VERY slowly to work.
But honestly? I had a phone call from m'girl, and I ate, count them, four Cadbury Creme Eggs. I'm actually in a much better mood now. Oooh! Coffee! I think I need more coffee.
Now, to rip.
It's one of those late afternoons where I can't get off the couch. I thought about running, but I'm just too tired. I'll go tomorrow morning, after work. I got stuck working a 14 hour shift until 9am this morning, on my Monday, which means when I went to bed this morning I'd been up for something like 26 hours. I wanted to get an eight-hour sleep and sleep till 6pm, but instead Adah started jumping on my head at 4pm. I got up, but I got up surly.
I hate getting up surly like that. (She hates it, too.... wink, nudge.) I growled my way to feeding them, growled my way to making coffee. I rubbed my eyes after petting the cats (I'm allergic), and while I was running my eyes under water, I bumped my forehead on the faucet and then stuck myself in the eyeball with the allergy eye-drops.
Oh, and I'm nursing a grand bruise on my left forearm -- it's where I caught the weight of my body as I fell going up the front stairs yesterday. I suppose falling going up stairs beats falling while going down them, but it still sucks. (My most spectacular fall up stairs was when I tripped while holding beer bottles. They broke on the concrete stairs right before I landed on them, cutting my stomach in fine little stripes. Nothing serious, but annoying and highly embarrassing. Plus I had to buy more beer. I was a little late to the party.)
And my eyelashes hurt.
Grumble. I only grumble like this when I'm this tired. Or when I'm out of Cadbury Creme Eggs. Which I'm not, so I should just eat one and shut up. Right? Right.
Digit would like you to know that he is not grumpy for once in his life. Transference, you know.
Michelle's got a booyyy-fr-eeeeend, Michelle's got a boiiiiy-frieeeennnnn-dddd......
I love this stuff. And her. And love.
Sorry I've been AWOL -- I was going to blog from work, but they've decided in their wisdom to remove the internet again, as our 1.5 page hits an hour were too much (of COURSE that looks like a lot per month -- the brass forgets that we're a 3-person 24-hour operation. Sheesh. Anyway.)
So I'll just lay on you some of the emails I've been getting from Mom and Christy, who are in Paris right now. Hope they won't mind, but they're too good not to share. Oh, I wish I was there, too....
From Mom:
Bonjour -
Life in Paris is not so much pink as grey, though the city is beautiful anyway and right at the moment the sun is shining. Our hotel is fine, a tiny place with about twenty rooms ranged up a steep circular staircase; we're on the fourth floor, so we're getting in shape fast. Room is bare bones but comfortable; to get to the bathroom you go up a short flight of stairs and step out into the void - actually go onto an outdoor landing and into the little room on the other side of it. Fun at night.
Location is great, looking down on a tiny triangular park on the Ile de la Cité, in the middle of the Seine, minutes from Notre Dame and the Sainte Chapelle. So far, in addition to just rambling, we've been to the Rodin Museum and the Musée d'Orsay, where we spent yesterday afternoon happily surrounded by Impressionist paintings.
Good (and frequent) food, lots of walking, always with an eye on the sky. It's cold, but our layers of clothing keep us warm; rain this morning but the sun is out now; possibility of snow tomorrow, but we're planning a three-day trip to Mont St Michel, over on the coast. Not much shopping yet, but plenty of temptation.
We're in an internet cafe, and now they're playing Piaf - someone must have looked over my shoulder. A short letter is all you're going to get because it takes me forever to navigate this crazy European keyboard - more soon.
And from Christy:
I just made reservations for the train to Mt. St. Michel - we are staying in Pontorson. Remember when we stayed there? And I ordered that big huge plate of mussels without knowing what it was and we ate the whole thing and giggled. That was fun.
Man, I'm tired. this woman is running me ragged. I tried to go back to sleep after breakfast this morning and she only let me sleep for, like 20 minutes before she made me get up again.
Oh, my god. I remember how she wore OUT my feet in Italy. Two months after cancer surgery, she walked my little legs off. I couldn't keep up. (And word to the wise: She kicks in her sleep. Get two beds, Christy. I mean it.)
So. I want things. You know how sometimes you feel selfish for wanting something? I do, a little bit. But I'll tell you what I want.
I want to take my girl to Maryland Sheep and Wool. But I'm house-poor. After the mortgage payment and reg'lar bills, I've got nothin' left at the tail end of the paycheck. So I need a plan.
World? Meet the plan. A new Cafepress Store! All proceeds go (totally selfishly) to getting me'n'La to the barns.
Woot!
That's such a non-creative name for a sweater, isn't it? What shall we name the baby, people? Let's call it.... Oh, screw it. I can't think of anything good, so I'll just show ya.
Yes, it's rather a cleavagey sweater. I did have that in mind when I made it (nice side note: At Stitches, Interweave Knits' Sandi said she liked it and would like to see something from me! Woot! I don't know if I'm up to the math, but there are programs that would help with that, I'm sure.... What's your favorite?)
Specs:
Yarn: ArtFibers Jadis, alpaca -- It was made as a store model for them.
Pattern: Made it up, and took the fair isle design from an out of print book called Fabulous Fair Isle. Kira at the store will be able to use their software to design the same pattern for you iffen you want, and I'm going to write a page of mods for the fair isle/crochet bits.
The obligatory, and rather manic, Rachael (I was running late for work, as usual):
On the bed:
And a close up of the actual color:
Yep, that's a crocheted border edging that came out of desperation. For some reason I thought a three row moss stitch border wouldn't roll. And then it rolled (surprise! gotcha!) and I freaked out, thinking, oh, man, this was free yarn, shop-model yarn, I better fix it. So I slapped the crochet on, and it's the part that people seem to like best. Who knew? I'm pretty happy with it.
And know what else I'm happy with? A fabulous little thrift store find that curled my toes in deep red love. Check this out:
This is Estonian, hand-made, and had the Cyrillic tags still attached. Okay, it's a kid's sweater. Who cares? I call it sexy (which means tight, in most languages).
Here's a bit closer:
Cute, non? Shoot, I wish I'd made it.
All right. Nuff. Have a great weekend, all. Love on your loved ones, okay? MWAH!
I have to make Mariah. I do. As Claudia says, we could all use lots more cabled hoodies. Okay. I'm paraphrasing. But I think she would agree. Right, C?
When I was at the ginormous Thrift Town in El Sobrante the other day (best thrift store in the Bay Area, I'm convinced), I found an Irish sweater, a deep dark variegated green one, huge and lofty and scratchy and wonderful. I clicked away from KnitPicks just a minute ago, where I was dithering about ordering that yummy merino, and I've decided I will indeed rip the sweater up and make the Mariah sweater. (The name does make think of "they call the wind," and I'm wondering if I'll get over that while knitting.) I'm broke, and even cheap yarn ain't cheap enough right now. But I always worry while ripping that I won't have enough yarn to make what I want (remember my cashmere? Still haven't used that stuff....), and once you run out of that kind of yarn, it's all about math and muddling. I don't muddle well.
But I do sometimes take really spectacularly fabulous photos. I won't even post it right on the front of the site here, in case people are eating and scrolling my site -- I wouldn't want to jolt you right out of those fabulous handknit socks you're wearing. But this is proof that Lala and I are the hottest couple anywhere. Or at least in Oakland. Or in that ice cream shop, anyway. No, I guess her normal-looking brother and sister-in-law were there, too, so I can only say that we were the hottest couple seated in our chairs at that exact moment. Yep. Popup photo here. Don't say I didn't warn you.
