More Knitting and Less Ink

Atomic Fireballs at four in the morning are really fun, I’ll have you know. Just for the record.

Many things to cover today, but most importantly, I have to point out that August 20th turns out some pretty great women. What an auspicious day to be born.

First, there’s Lisa, one of my very first blog-friends. Her pups keep me entertained and her incredibly detailed, intricate knitting keeps me amazed. She’s sweet, and smart, and she LOVES her sister, something I totally understand. I haven’t met her yet, but I fully expect to do so someday. Blog, dog, blog. Snaps to you.

Then, there’s Cari. Sigh. How much do I love Cari? Incalculable. We met for the first time in a coffee shop in Brooklyn. I remember catching sight of her sitting on a hassock in the rear of the huge room, looking as gorgeous as a woman can look. She saw me, and we raced at each other, hugging and holding on and laughing. People looking on would have assumed we were the oldest friends, parted by years of circumstance and distance. Perhaps we were. As we sat at dinner that night, she looked at me, touched my arm again and said, “You’re here. Hi. Oh, hi!” It was so right, so natural and perfect for me to be sitting there with her and the Divine Ms. Em and Bethany. She is real, and honest, and lovely in all ways. I miss her when I’m not in Brooklyn (which is, strangely enough, like, ALL the time).

And Greta. Oh, wonderful, darling Greta. This is how we met for the first time: She and Daughter Bird were coming to stay at my house. Sight unseen, I was going to pick her up from the Amtrak station in Oakland at 9pm. Of course, they were on the Coast Starlight, which is always delayed if animals like cows or seagulls or stray snails wander too near the tracks, so the train eventually pulled in about three in the morning. I was waiting on the platform, wearing Orange Alert (wanted to make sure she recognized me). I saw them coming, DB grinning her trademark ear-to-ear grin. She waved. Greta dropped her luggage (in Oakland!) and we raced at each other, hugging and holding on and laughing. I hadn’t quite planned for the amount of luggage the two of them had managed by that point to accumulate, and we had to put the top down on ole Petunia to cram it all in. Poor Daughter Bird was relegated to the back seat, and then covered with suitcases. From the front seat, we literally could not see her. We drove the deserted highway home, the wind in our hair, laughing about how ridiculous the world might think we were, strangers meeting for the first time at an Amtrak station in a town not known for its relative security. I yelled, “Are you okay back there, doll?” Daughter Bird said, “Yes!” Greta and I stayed up almost until dawn talking. We couldn’t settle down. And know what? We haven’t yet settled down. Nor will we.

(While I’m talking about people I love, let me just point y’all to the Divine Ms. Em’s new homepage, if you haven’t already tracked your way there.)

Okay, those were the most important things to remember. What else? Oh, yes. I got the best email from Lizzi yesterday, with an attached photo of her scarf that she made based on my pattern. Remember how I said if you could rope a steer with it it was too long, and if it wouldn’t go around your throat it was too short? Well, she proved me wrong, because her new wallhanging is JUST the right length.

This is what she says about it:

I was going out to dinner with my parents a few days ago, when I realized that all of my WIPs were too large and complicated to take with me; so I hopped on your blog, copied your pattern from the screen straight into chart form in my little graph paper book, and grabbed a leftover ball of wool that I assumed had enough left in it for a short scarf. Oh, I was wrong. But it was so pretty, I couldn’t bear to frog it when, later that night, I came to the end of the ball at only 15.5″ of scarf. Which, by the way, is my exact collar size–I know this because I went through a phase in high school where I wore men’s dress shirts, unbuttoned, over tees and tanks. It was sort of a post-grunge flannel equivalent. Anyway, point being, not a scarf. So look what I did with it instead! It’s like a Chinese scroll painting, except with more knitting and less ink.

I adore that.

And I adore my wireless. Look, here’s a phone-snap of my foot (one of two which are going to run fourteen miles on Sunday) up on the couch (see? I’m elevating!), computer on my lap. Look Ma! No wires!

And one of Adah, who thinks I’m ridiculous. No, she KNOWS I’m ridiculous. But so’s she, so we’re even.

Happy weekend, all. And happy, happy, happy birthday to my girls.