Archives for March 2008

Oh, the sound of the Roomba in the morning… It starts itself up at ten and vacuums for about an hour or so, getting the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. And because those are the rooms the animals are in while we’re out, those are the worst hair collection rooms. Have I mentioned I love it? Even given the fact that we have three dogs and four cats, I have no idea why I’m so surprised every night when I clean it out to find SO MUCH CRAP. (The book says you can go three or four runs before cleaning it out. We can’t.)

Also, to give you fair warning, this is now my second Roomba. The first one had something go wrong the first week — kept telling me that I needed to clean the brushes, even when I just had. Frustrating. And I love it so much that I marched right down to Costco (I hate going to Costco), stood in line to return, then stood in another line to happily repurchase. This new one has treated me great, but I have warned it that should it act up, it will suffer the same fate. It is worth the time spent in the Costco line.

You may notice that I’ve blinged the blog. Please disregard the google ads low and to the right, but I have to admit I like the Amazon ad up there. I’ll keep it filled with books I’m loving, in case anyone is interested. I’m still neck-deep into memoirs, although I’m dabbling in reading fiction again.

Must get motivated! I have to do at least a little writing this weekend before I go back to work tomorrow — I had planned on taking great whacks at the rewrite, but yesterday I didn’t leave the house once. I had an unplanned pajama day, which was great except for the guilt. Which I fought, tooth and nail. I won, I think. But today I have Things To Do.

Oh! I forgot. I decided on Lush and Lacy, in stash red wool-something (love Classic Elite Lush, but it looses definition if you breathe on it). I have one sleeve done. Thanks for all the great suggestions!

And remember, I told you about the radio repair guy at work? The Jimmy Stewart guy with his sweater literally FULL of holes? Some big enough to put four fingers through?

Ees all fixed:

You can see the only obvious place is down at the bottom right of the picture — there just wasn’t enough yarn in the world to save that bit. I picked up stitches and diked them off as well as I could. Most of the repairs look more like this:

A casual observer wouldn’t notice, and a Knitter would think someone had helped the sweater out. Which would be true.

That is all. No more procrastinating. Off to Do Things. But I’ll have fun, too.

Don’t forget to wear a sweater tomorrow in honor of Mr. Rogers’ birthday!

On the Bart story. We went to visit him yesterday at the SPCA. We first went to the sick bay, but they led us over to where the kennels are. Oh, great. He’s well enough to be in a kennel now, I thought.

Um. No. He’s in the director’s office. Everyone who enters the admin area gets to pass him and get kisses and give treats. He’s gained so much weight in the last two weeks that you can’t see his ribs anymore! And he’s a LAP dog! The sweetest lap dog you ever met — I sat on the floor to get more kisses, and he crawled into my lap and put his head over my shoulder so Lala could still reach him for scritches. (Picture over at Lala’s blog.)

He really is the nicest dog we’ve ever met. We call him our perfect dog. In any other world, he would already be at our house, but with the four cats, two  dogs, and one very old dotty sometimes-crazy Harriet-dog, we just can’t take him. Can’t. We REALLY want to, but we’re being smart. So because of that, he will always be perfect in our minds. He’s never chewed up anything! Never! He’s never peed on the carpet OR pooped in the kitchen. He never, ever whines to wake us up in the middle of the night.

But god, he is a love. Bay Areans, really. Every single person at the SPCA is in love, and they don’t fall easily. Those folks are pretty tough. And they’re head over heels. Plus, if someone we knew adopted him, then we could have visiting rights, right? I’d make him a sweater for Xmas……

Knitting mojo continues to elude me.

I am near completion of a sweater that I really wanted. But in trying it on today, it was just wrong. I measured and remeasured, but somehow it is three inches short and six inches too narrow. And it’s HUGE, a wrap-blanket of a sweater, so those inches shouldn’t matter that much, but they do. It’s just not right. Doesn’t bear thinking about ripping. I will place it in the time-out box (getting pretty full in there). Maybe by next winter I’ll want to do something with it.

And the other sweater I’ve been working on, the DROPS 101-3 Cardigan, well, it’s almost done. And I’m going to run out of yarn. I NEVER EVER run out of yarn. I am terrified of doing so, ever since Cromarty, so half my stash is made up of leftovers. But no, I just reached in the bag where I keep my working yarn, and there’s only one ball left. And I’m only three-quarters done with the back, and still have the collar to do. (I always make the sleeves, then the fronts, then the back, because the back is my favorite bit to make.) Frustrating. I can find more of the yarn I subbed; it’s just the work involved to do that that’s maddening. Also, it’s curling badly at the hems. I’ve been hoping a good stiff blocking would help that, but now I’m wondering.

Waste of a month of knitting time.

SO.

Casting on. For what? Everyday I search my sweaters for the perfect cardigan. It should be short-sleeved and lightweight, maybe lacy, but there should be enough there to cover up if the wind blows the sunshine away. Any great ideas? I’m trawling through the Ravelry pond, but I haven’t figured out the perfect pattern yet. I love Titania, but it ain’t no cardigan, is it? I do want to cast on for it, though. Like, now. Only I’d bring that into a deeper vee-neck, I think. And then I’d have yet another lovely sweater that I’d wear twice a year. I’m looking for an everyday sweater. But a graceful, sweet, everyday cardigan. Harder than it sounds. I know YOU know.

I’ve been composing posts for days. Really. That’s what I do sometimes, just drive down the highway, thinking about what to tell you. And damn, I am a fine writer when I’m in the car. We’re talking Pulitzer, baybee. Strong emotive words. True and original thoughts, startling in their vibrancy and beauty.

Then I get to the computer and my brain goes HAVING TJ’S CHICKEN NUGGETS FOR DINNER WHOOOOHOOO!  Or it says Roomba Roomba Roomba. Or it just goes plonk.

And I have things to tell you, too, so rather than try to gather the genius-droppings (they were everywhere but the Roomba got ’em), I’ll just list what little I can remember.

1. After 13 hours of nothing but talking — seriously, without a break, and usually at least three voices talking at once — silence in the car coming home is good. It’s not as good as meditation since I gotta focus of the other cars a bit, but my brain fizzes in a similar manner.

2. For the love of god, I have to teach Clara to spin. Or at least to ply.

3. I am in a Gus Van Sant movie. Oh, yes. Yes, I am. IS THAT SO COOL? More: He’s filming Milk here (you might have heard about it on NPR, mmm-hmmm), and my sister Christy talked me into going on Sunday morning. I’m so glad she did. We got to watch Sean Penn give Harvey Milk’s 1978 speech, which started "My name is Harvey Milk, and I’m here to recruit you." (More about Harvey Milk here. Goddamn Twinkie Defense.)
    And it was odd — there were a lot of us extras, all dressed in 70s clothing, trying to be cool. Sean Penn was doing the same thing. We went through the whole thing a couple of times — he came out onto the dais in front of City Hall in Civic Center and gave the speech. We cheered and yelled and then he exited the stage. The director yelled cut.
    But then: After two run-throughs which we thought had been real, the director said "Take ONE!" Sean Penn, just walking onto the stage, was a different person. He WAS Harvey Milk (believe it or not). We were in his pocket. His speech, which we’d already heard a couple of times, was world-changing. We would have done anything for him. The cheering and whooping were real. The tears were real. The pride I felt when the pretty boys on the balcony unfurled an early evolution of the Pride Flag was real. The fact that people were there as extras who had been there the first time….. Amazing. So lucky to be part of it.
    So you might see me. But if you don’t, please know my voice was one of the voices raised in support.

4. If you’re in the Bay Area, you should take Kira’s skirt class, first class on Saturday. They still have two spaces, I think, and I believe the reason people haven’t signed up is because they think in order to wear a knit skirt you have to look like Kira.

She is one of my two pocket-vegans. No, friends, you don’t have to look like that to carry off this skirt. You can also look like me:

And another shot of my as$, thank you very much:

Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you. You should take this class. I would, but I’ll be working, but I’ll be making this skirt, you can bet your sweet fanny. Class here.

5. These pictures were taken at the Gay Bay Knitting Meetup from Ravelry last night. Oh, Ravelry, how we love thee.

6. Kira’s been wearing that skirt for four years. I’m astounded by that. Looks new. No sag.

7. I have been typing FOREVER (worked on the book rewrite when I got home from work). Which means I’ve been going non-stop for almost 17 hours. TV! Now! And chicken nuggets!

HA! Link. From IHasAHotDog. Soon even politicians will be speaking Cheezeburger. I has a dream.

I has knitting 2 do. C U.