Archives for March 2006

I’m not sure if this person wanted blogish recognition (well, knowing her, she didn’t want it, but I’m not sure if she’d mind) so I’m leaving names out of it, but Lala and I got the gift of a sheep.

Made me cry. One of my all-time favorite gifts. A sheep! A sheep that will help someone else, a family that needs help. Amazing.

Also: Those of you kindest, sweetest human beans who have sent us gifts, please know that it’s just because I’ve been flying through the hours busier than I’ve ever been that I haven’t blogged each and every giddy box-opening. We do get giddy and then we fight over who gets to use the salt grinder/oil-vinegar cruet first. (That oil and vinegar cruet? Shoulda been me using it first. Just saying. Ask Lala to explain. No, it’s not broken! It’s just drying.) And this: If you did send us something, would you please send me your address? Pretty please? I mean it. I want your address.

Weird. It just dumped rain for about thirty seconds. Now it’s over.

The house is CLEAN! Lala’s parents will see the house for the first time today, and my parents will see it furnished for the first time. I’m so proud and excited.

And tomorrow, well. Tomorrow. I can’t wait.

Oh! I just realized I can tell you this, since I’m going to preblog this to post later than I’m writing it. Friday morning Lala thinks she’s running errands with me (Costco, Trader Joe’s, Longs, all the things I’ve been busting my ass to finish so she won’t have to) and then getting her hair cut. But what she doesn’t know is this: I’ve moved her hair appointment and we’re going out to breakfast at 10, just the two of us, Merrit Bakery down by the lake. Then we’re going to Piedmont Springs at 11 for a half-hour hot tub (I hope it rains, I love hot tubs in the rain) and then at 11:30 we both have a 75 minute massage. Nope, we can’t afford it, but I have an old gift certificate to blow there, and I think it’s worth it. Time for us to relax and NOT THINK about the wedding (can I do that? I’m not sure. I’ll try) and chill out. This idea came from readers, and I thank you. I always thank my readers.

Because out of all the readers in the whole world, I have the very best ones.

1. Do not stand on top of a ladder so someone can hem your dress at the last minute.

2. Do not let some horrid little blonde that you’ve never met before do your makeup because you will look like Tammy Faye and she and all her sorority sisters will laugh at you.

3. Do remember to bring the veil to the dressing area.

4. If you forget, do not attempt to make one with raffia. This will not work, even if you try for hours.

5. The hole that rips in the back of the dress right over your tuckus should probably be mended. Someone will notice.

6. It is better to take off the dress before letting that horrible, catty blonde sew it up from behind you.

7. Do not accept a package from the UPS guy and let him accidentally carry away your envelope holding your plane tickets and passport.

8. Take off your dress and put something else on before you search his filthy, oily garage. Don’t crawl under cars in your dress. You’ll regret it.

9. Quit looking at the clock. Yes, you’re two hours late now, and you know that your fiance and all your guests have given up on you and are drinking all the booze you spent this week planning, buying, and transporting.

10. If you DO make out with the UPS guy, don’t feel guilty. It’s a dream, and he’s hot. Just do it where that blonde bitch can’t see you.

11. Don’t agree to transport the cake yourself. If you do, the veil you found will be covered with frosting, you will get in a fender bender, the cake will end up in pieces on the backseat floor, and you’ll be arguing in the rain in your torn, oily dress with the other driver and then you’ll look up to find your friends and family leaving the church, not sparing you a glance. You will cry and then wake up to realize it’s only a dream and Lala’s still there and Harriet is snoring and it’s okay. So that part of the dream is good.

Holy crap. Lists upon lists upon lists. I’m not to the point of making lists of my lists yet, but I’m very close. I’m just rewriting them at this point.

And I have to remember to take with us to the wedding everything we want to take on the honeymoon, as well, since the sisters are spiriting us away to a hotel room that night after the party, and then we leave in the morning for Vancouver!

I am so excited. I am also ready for the party. Then I’m ready to leave. You know? I enjoy planning, but even with a tiny little cheap wedding, this is extreme planning, yo. We want to have a housewarming at some point, but that would be planning, and I just can’t bear it.

I think we need massages. Yup. I may need to make some phone calls today. Not like we have ANY money to spare, but can’t we justify this? We NEED it. I’m feeling mostly good, and mostly together, and mostly happy, and then something little will happen, and I’ll snap — GRRROWWWWWL! Kerthunk. Humph. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Of course, it’s Lala I snap on most — or if it’s not snapping, then it’s moods. Growly moods, for bad reasons like tripping over the dog, or not having chocolate in the house. Stooopid.

But I’ve learned this, and it’s a good lesson: On my days off, for the last three months, I’ve been busy from morning until night. From 7am until 9pm, I Do Stuff, constantly and without ceasing (mothers all around the country are saying SHUT UP! I’VE DONE THAT FOR YEARS!). First it was packing, then moving, then unpacking, then wedding planning.

That’s not complaining, that’s an observation that I am able to be productive when I need to be. Which means this: When we come home from the honeymoon, I will spend that time writing. Or at least a lot of it. If I can spend all day running errands and doing things that I don’t particularly like to do, then I can spend more hours than I am now writing, which I LOVE to do.

So that’s the plan.

Oh, my god. I’m still planning. Erg.

It just took me WAY too long to type those words up there in the title line, and I’m pretty hungover. I asked Lala why I was so hungover, since I didn’t drink that much last night. She said, "It’s because you drank a LOT." Welp, don’t remember that part so well, but she’s probably right.

It was our bachelorette party! Yay! If you didn’t get invited, it’s not our fault! We didn’t have to plan it! Christy and Bethany planned EVERYTHING and I think that’s one of the bachelorettes’ party’s best features. The brides don’t have to do sh*t but show up. And drink, apparently.

I did use the evening as a trial run for my wedding makeup. I figured it’s probably not the best idea to wear false eyelashes for the very first time on your wedding day. I could just imagine being allergic to the glue or something. MAN, are those things hard to get on. But look: aren’t they fun?

The first part of the evening was at Christy’s fabulous pad, where we
had cocktails and little teeny wonderful sammiches and nice cheese.
Stuff like that. Yummy, yummy. Fun people. Martinis. Good times.

Isn’t she dapper?

There were knitters! (And a shy Won-ju.) I didn’t even bring knitting. Can you imagine?

And so it begins.

Accosted by Rachael’s camera. Who could ask for more?

Celia serenaded us with a beeeyoootiful western yodel.

Smush-face. This might be my favorite picture all night.

So we ate and drank and laughed and talked and sang, and that was just the beginning. We piled into cars and went into the City to Encore, our favorite little karaoke bar in the world. I was tired as we were driving over, and I wondered if I would find more energy once we got there (I hate it when you’re so out of it that you try to type once starting with a W). But I found MUSIC, people. That’s what I needed.

Camilla and Joni tore it up. Whitesnake never looked so good.

The sisters! Both have FABULOUS voices which they put to excellent use.

I think I thought that was in focus last night.

Me and Mike Shut-In. I heart Mike.

Bring it.

Oh, it was brought, all right.

He never should have said that about Dwight Yoakam.

I don’t actually remember there being food there, so I don’t know what that is….. (No, wait! It’s coming back! There was cheese, I think, and taquito-looking things. Oh, I hope I didn’t eat any of the taquitos….)

Caught! (I love this shot.)

I went a little Crazy, too. (Oh, Patsy…..)

Lala, apparently, was Bewitched. (And bothered and bewildered, for those keeping score.)

Best party ever. To have a planner like Christy plan all this out, and then just to show up and be feted, that was the best.

Of course, today, this is what I look like.

Heh. Now I’m going back to bed.

I’m lying on the couch, the sun behind me, two dogs curled against me, and an angry Digit glaring at me from the dining room table. He’d really like to be on my stomach right now, but he can’t quite get over the dogs. He’s getting much closer, though, and doesn’t run every time they walk past him anymore. Kind of a small cat-miracle, that. Digit, the cat who never, ever came off the tops of the kitchen cabinets when the dogs were visiting at my condo (even if they stayed for days, he stayed up there, only venturing to the kitty litter box in the dead of night), is now wandering the house almost at his leisure. He still hates to see the dogs coming. But he is tolerant now. He also has a LOT more room here. We all do.

Digit watches Harriet walk away.

Hey, I finished the wedding stole! I’ll block it later today and take a picture for you. Promise.

Suddenly, I just realized what that meant. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a project. That. Is. So. Cool. That means I can go into my room and play with yarn and patterns and come up with something. What I really want to make is another handspun cardigan, a knock-arounder, but that requires spinning, and I’m so busy the next couple of weeks, that won’t happen. (A wedding will do that to you, I hear. It’s like having PMS, all the time. Sometimes good, something bad.)

Wait. Did I ever show you the handspun sweater that I DID finish? No? Sigh. I didn’t think so. I finished it about three weeks ago, maybe a little more, during the throes of moving hell, so I wasn’t in any mood to hurry and blog it. Plus, I didn’t really like it when I finished it. I just kind of knitted it, no pattern, throwing math-like numbers on a piece of scratch paper when I felt like it, which sounds so very blase and don’t-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about, and I was prepared to feel all proud of myself when it was done, but I wasn’t because it kind of sucked. Okay, it didn’t SUCK, but it just wasn’t quite right. The back was the problem — there was a lot of room back there. It was as if I had made the sweater for a person with boobs in the front AND back. Just kind of hung weird. When my shoulders moved, the back draped and swung, lifting the hem, showing the back bottom of whatever shirt I was wearing (or the top of my low-rise jeans, which while I understand that’s the style for the kids today, I personally feel a little nekkid showing that particular area of skin). It was weird. Bell-like. (What’s this I hear about reverse-ease and making a sweater with the circumference taken from under your armpits and not the chest? Anyone?)

But then I washed it (yes, washed!) in the machine (yes, machine!) and blocked it somewhat on the table, and it’s okay now. Lala said now it looks like a normal sweater, and it’s nice and warm, but I’m going to have to get over the initial disappointment I felt upon putting it on. I’ve only worn it once since I finished it.

Hey, that’s TWICE lately I’ve been disappointed in something I’ve designed and knitted. Erg. I don’t like that. But I do heartily love the stole, so that’s something.

Anyway, your patience will get you everywhere. Here you go:

Blurry, but you get the gist of the fit.

More true to color — it was a merino two-ply I made of a green/blue and a brown/orange, obtained at Deep Color in Kensington.

Hello!

I realized when I finally sat down with my wheel here at the new house that this was left on it, ready to be plied, so I did, and now I can make a baby sweater, perhaps.

This post just keeps going, doesn’t it? See, I’m doing like nine other things at the same time, wandering the house, doing laundry, thinking of things I MUST do today, and then I pop over here and write a little more. You used to get a lot of short posts, and lately you’ve been getting big ole long ones, not as reg’larly. Hope you don’t mind.

But what that’s good for is this: I just took a picture of the stole in its bath!

Next, I’m going to use the WASHER (which is still like a happy miracle every time I look at it or think of it) to spin it out.

This is a nice day. It’s only 9:30, and I’ve been very busy since I got up. I suppose at some point I’ll make breakfast, since my Cadbury Creme Egg and coffee isn’t really the breakfast (heh, typo: breakfat) of champions. (Lala brought me TEN boxes the other day when I was in the absolute worst mood. She didn’t even tell me, just let me grump my way into sleep, and then I found them in the morning, in front of the coffee machine. O, joy divine.)

Also, this is a reclaimed day, since it was an on-call day for me. Today I’m getting paid to be on-call, and you usually know whether or not you’ll have to go in to work by 4am, which is when people are supposed to call in sick by. So you sleep rather badly until 4am, wondering if your phone is going to ring, and you don’t make any plans, and you count on going to work, and you lay out your uniform, and then when they don’t call, you get a whole nice unexpected day off. Loving it.

I’m really done rambling now. Have a good day, all.

(Oh! To you, and you know who you are, who have sent us gifts, bless you. We’ve had the MOST fun in the kitchen at night, opening boxes and squealing in bride-like joy. Okay, that’s me. Lala’s a little more suave about it.  Thank you, thank you, thank you. xo)