Archives for August 2006

We finally upgraded to a new camera. I’d had mine for about four years, and it was taking a dive. Lala’s was okay, but big and bulky. So we bit the bullet and sprang for the real deal (imperative for Venice, right? Right?), the Canon Powershot SD500 Digital Elph, with 7.1 megapixels. The POWER! And it fits right in my pocket.

Wow. I just checked, and it’s smaller than my cell phone (not that that means anything, since the Treo is pretty big, but wow).

So here! Fewer cell phone photos for you! (Although you’ll still get them, the phone is always with me…..)

    5 lbs of cute

    There are a lot of these surprised looking shots

    But then I figured it out.

I freaking love technology, man. Now we’re off to the beach, where I’ll probably take one bajillionty million pictures of dogs, pictures that no one else will appreciate like I do, but I appreciate! I do! I also have a lot of errands that I just don’t want to run today….. I had a hell of an HOA meeting yesterday, in which I had to go head to head with the guy next door (he got his name as associated on the title, so we have to let him in the meetings), and I hate confrontation. Apparently I’m good at it, but it left me a sobby, weepy mess afterward. Of course, I had worked all night, and had come home to find Clara in a crate full of intestinal distress (poor baby, she’d eaten something horrible, I think it might have been a rotten lemon from the backyard), so at 6:30am on Sunday, I’m in the front yard, sloshing out and scrubbing the crate with Lysol and hot water, washing the dog under the hose. The meeting came after that (and a nap, thank god). I am in a much better mood today, but in no mood to Do Things I Have To Do.

Lala had a great idea yesterday — every time I have an HOA meeting, we get out a box of Cadbury Creme Eggs from the freezer. There are five left, and I just CAN’T have five meetings between now and Easter, can I? I think that’ll do nicely.

Beach now.

https://rachaelherron.com/we_finally_upgr/

It is not, I repeat, NOT for Christmas, Rabbitch. I sah-wear to god. If you didn’t live in Vancouver (for which you are forgiven all faults, but forget I said that), I’d drive up there and give you such a pinch!

I can’t believe you did that. Bringing up the C-word when there’s another heat wave headed our way. Humph.

So here it is. Let me be the first to make this eminently sensible decision this year, and I am making it out loud, right here and now, for all of you, gentle readers, to witness.

•     I am not knitting anything for anyone this year for Christmas.

Dpn’t get me wrong (that was an honest typo. Hah!). I do love knitting prezzies for people, but I really dislike doing it on holiday deadline. (Christy, the shawl doesn’t count. I’m LOVING knitting it. Can’t wait to show you. And it’s not Christmas.)

And you know what? I’m going further with this, watch me:

•     I’m not going to buy anything for anyone until one week before Christmas.

How do like THEM cinnamon-apples, HUH, Rabbitch? Put that in your stocking and smoke it, lady.

And when I do buy Christmas presents, this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to drive to the City, pay for garage parking, walk to the MOMA museum gift store, buy one small and interesting gift for everyone on the list, and then go home and wrap them. I think I can have Christmas done in under three hours, including traffic. Watch me.

Now, you can go ahead and cuss me out for bringing it up. But please remember that I wasn’t the first one. Rabbitch was. Good thing she lives in Vancouver. Safer up there, y’know.

Lately I’ve been trying to jumpstart creativity, just like my Divine Ms. Em has. She has a post and a comment thread that I loved reading this morning. Go give her some more idears, huh?

Mom is a good sport. Never that into dogs, she is a complete cat person. However, she was pleased as punch when Miss Idaho decided to give her the nod the other day when they were in town.

And Harriet is willing to sit at anyone’s feet, just as long as she’s getting all the attention.

But Clara? While the little mama is cute as always, isn’t Clara the show-stealer here? Hi! Here I am! I’m so HAPPY! Steak please?

https://rachaelherron.com/mom_is_a_good_s/

Moebius Scarf! Directions at DIY Network. I love it. I used my own handspun cashmere, so I *really* love it. It’s almost too soft to wear, if that can be possible. (It also stretched out a bit, so I wore it doubled later in the day, which kind of defeated the moebius effect, but who cares? It’s cashmere!)

And get this: I was in San Francisco yesterday, meeting relatives in from New Zealand. While waiting in the hotel lobby, a woman asked me, "Is that the moebius scarf from Knitty Gritty?" So we discussed. Ah, the common language of knitting….

https://rachaelherron.com/moebius_scarf_d/

So, did you hear that Lala’s band The Whoreshoes got a European gig? They’re touring Benelux (see site for full details) for about ten days at the end of September. If you’re there, you should go.

We’ve known about this trip for a while. We’ve been broke for a while, too, so there were no plans made for me to go along, although my first thought on hearing about the tour was VENICE! I could take Lala to Venice! That was my first thought, even though my first thought really should have been something along the lines of "Oh, how wonderful that my wife’s band is so good and popular." No, I thought of how close Venice is to Brussels via Ryan Air.

Then we looked at finances, and I had given up the dream. Sigh. Someday.

Then we rented the condo, and I signed up for on-calls and overtime, and the dream is BACK on, baby.

I have to admit, that however glamorous it sounds, I don’t have much interest in touring with the band. That sounds like a lot of work and not enough time sitting in cafes. So instead, Lala and I are going to fly into Brussels about four days before the tour starts, and immediately hop a flight to Venice, where I will show her the city of my heart. (For more, if you have to have more, there are links to some of my Venice ramblings on the left.)

We’ll stay three days only, a long weekend for me, and then we’ll fly back to Brussels where I’ll dump her at her gig, maybe watch the first show, and head home.

I am beside myself. Look. Here’s me, and then over here, here’s me, sitting next to me. Be. Side. My. Self.

To catch you up if you’re behind, I love Venice, Italy. I do not like the city. I do not feel fondly toward it. I love it. I love everything about it. I’ve been six times, I think, and nothing dampens the passion. I got an amazing email from someone today, a gal who had stumbled on some of my Venice writing and wrote to say that she feels the same In Love way with the city. She, however, is living the life — writing for nine months in America, and living for three in Venice. I am jealous in that happy oh-someone’s-really-doing-it way.

The passion for the city feels physical, it feels like when you’re in love with a person. The smell of salt mixed with diesel, the sound of birds’ wings flapping and the myriad bells chiming, none at the same time, none together, the taste of spritz and prosecco and coffee and sepia.

Look! That just happens when I think about Venice. I wax poetic. How annoying for you.

I worry a little about freaking Lala out. She won’t love it as much as I do, and that’s okay. Few people do. She’ll think it’s a nice, pretty, tourist town, as most do, and that will be good. She might like it a LOT. She’ll be amused by her enthusiastic Boxy Ferrari (a Venetian working on a church’s scaffolding once gave me that description), and hopefully that will keep her from wanting to scream if the Ferrari says, "Oh, over here, sugar, over here!" one more time.

Also, even though god knows I love Italy, Italy does not, so much, as a whole, love the gay. They’re pretty closed to the gay. So it’ll be interesting to be there, out as a couple. I could have a very different experience this time. But I don’t think so. While the people are wonderful, and I love the interactions I have there, my relationship is with La Serenissima herself. I’ve called the city "it" through this blog entry, and every time I typed the word, I felt like I was calling a woman "it." I knew, however that saying I can’t wait to get back to her would be too precious, and I’d want to slap myself. You’d come through the computer to slap me, and I wouldn’t blame you. But Venezia just isn’t an It.

Ack! Stop me!

I’m excited.