Long-Assed, Lots of Stuff

Oh, so much to tell you! I have not been blogging, but not because I am a Lazy Blogger (which is usually the case when I’m absent without leave), but because I have been a Very Busy Blogger. Too busy, in fact, to even check email, let alone blog. If I owe you email, please forgive me. It’ll be a’comin’….

And a Responsible Blogger would parcel out the fun stuff, would make three posts of this, but I am not responsible. I am a Frivolous Blogger, and plan to frivol all over this post.

First. The March on Saturday.

It was really kind of amazing. First of all, Lala and I got there at right about the right time, had it been a peace march, which it wasn’t. The rally was at 10, the march started at 11, so we got there about 11:20, expecting the people to be just starting to move. There was no one there! The streets were full of bored-looking tourists and street vendors. We asked a cop (Lala told me to boss him around, but I restrained myself), and he pointed, "They went that way, right at 11. I hear they’re at 3rd now — you can still catch ’em."

We realized that this march had been planned by mothers, not peace activists, thus it had left on time and in an orderly manner. We marvelled.

We caught up with them, and marched to Embarcadero, happy to see so many. Then they did something that we didn’t quite get (yet) — they stopped us marching and spread us out on the sidewalk, from Pier One down to Thirty-Nine. The pro-life march was coming, and instead of them yelling at us from the sidelines, as usually happens, it was our turn to line THEIR route.

Here, you can see them coming:

And then they’re here:

You can see the same guy with the rosary here:

The cops were SUPER vigilant about keeping them within their lines, but you can see how incredibly close we all are to each other.

It was really something unimaginable, to be standing on the sidewalk, chanting "Back alleys, no more, abortion rights for rich and poor" or "Our bodies, our lives, our right to decide," right INTO the faces of people who believe so differently. Looking right at them. Into their eyes. There were moments of anger, moments of humor (like the little girl who marched with her tongue stuck out at us the whole time — oh, she was so MAD that everyone was laughing), and moments of compassion. One woman in a wheelchair looked at me and then raised her fingers in the peace sign. Lala and I raised our hands in peace back to her. There were a lot of peace signs, actually. But that was the one that connected, that hit my heart.

Oh, there were so many MEN in that march.

They didn’t chant, or sing, or yell, and most surprisingly of all, there were none of those horrific maddening pictures of aborted fetuses. Apparently they’d been given a last minute directive to tone it down, and I think it had a lot to do with how peacefully it went. Two people ended up getting arrested, which wasn’t bad, considering that the cops had two city buses standing by as paddy wagons (which got covered in NARAL stickers as they moved slowly along):

This was taken after their march had gone by — our march followed them, which created a bottleneck at Fisherman’s Wharf, and they had to take another route to their rally site — this was, I believe, the goal. Lala and I, however, left at this point, fearing both violence (which didn’t happen) and that ArtFibers would run out of yarn (also, didn’t happen, but it’s better to be safe than sorry).

I’m making a little store model for them. I’ll show you as I go. It’s got a little bit of fairisle in it, which I started at a dark bar the next night. I am officially crazy. Lala’s band The Whoreshoes was playing, and a bunch of my friends came to see her. Two of them passed me right by while I was sitting at the bar, probably because I had my head ducked all the way down until my forehead was practically IN the alpaca. The muttering kept the other crazies away, too. Never attempt charted fairisle in the dark. Believe me.

And did you know that all the Rach(a)els in the whole wide world live
in the Bay Area? At one point during the show, there were FOUR of them
sitting in a row, while another sang onstage. Last night, at the
knit-out, a gal came by to say hi and introduce herself as a reader of
this blog, and when she left, Rachel said, "Who was that?" I said,
"Dur. That was Rachel!" (Hi, Rachel T.!)

Anywho, the show was fabulous, even though the vocal mikes sucked. I was pretty durn happy, though, that m’girl got one of the good ones, so her "Drinkin’ in my Sunday Dress," in which she sings lead AND plays the banjo, sounded great. I didn’t get too many good shots, as the curtain was a deep red, but you can see her playing her lap steel in the back:

And after the show:

I look drunk, yes, but I’m not. I was the sober driver (and roadie — I totally got into being a roadie). Lala, well, you know. She didn’t have to drive. Although I do believe she’s sober in this photo. This was early.

Damn, she sounded good. And I’m not being (that) prejudiced, really. She’s really good. I was struck proud.

And our knit-out! I apologized last night to Laine about all the hearts and flowers on my blog, all the romance mushy stuff that I really do try to keep at a minimum (if you can believe that) and she said, "WHY? That’s why I read! You’re like my own little romance novel!" So I guess y’all will read over the romantic gushing looking for the knitting content (I had some! Up there! I did!) or you’ll close the link with a snap (silly old knitter-in-love), but I can’t help it. She’s just so durn cyoo-t. And I’m sure she would like you to know that she is Very Tough. Yes, she is. (And cozy.)

So. The knit-out was fabulous (it is at this point I should start another post, but hell, I’m on a roll). The beautiful and fabulous Monica was in town:

and in honor of that, we met up at the New Zealander in Alameda. I think by the end of the night there were about ten of us — Elizabeth and Stella were the other bloggers there. Also in attendence were Rachel, Kira, Anna, Laine, Martha, Laura in Alameda, Won-Ju, and this guy:

He’s also seen here:

We have no clue who he is. He’s sitting in Rachel’s spot while she takes pictures, and he’s pretending to knit. He was very friendly. Hi, guy!

I committed a major foh-pah in the scheduling of the knit-out, though. There’s a new knit-bunch in town, and they were meeting at the very same time, just three blocks down the street. What are the odds? So when the New Zealander closed, some of us marched (lot of marching going on) down and joined ’em. The Coffee For Thought Stitch and Bitch, y’all, meets in Alameda (1545 Webster)  at 7pm on Monday nights. They’re the ones in the back. The group in the front is a sea-shanty singing group, and I gotta tell you, sea-shanties and knitting go very well together. In a weird SCA kind of way, sure, but they do go well.

Here we are in our new knitting place:

Is it possible this is long enough? Sheesh. I am off to Hoover Floormate my house. It works GREAT, by the way. I’ve been putting off using it all week, so I can get that gratification of sweeping up LOTS of dust’n’stuff. You know what I mean.

MWAH!