Rachael

I've had a great weekend. First off, it was my birthday! Last year's birthday was so close to Mom's death and I was out of town for work and it just sucked. I was worried that last year broke all my future birthdays, but I am happy to report my birthday mojo is back.

(Have I mentioned I LOVE BIRTHDAYS? Everyone gets to be really special for a whole day — or a week if you're doing it right — and everyone deserves that.)

Lala started things off Saturday night by having the house full of things I love: sweet apricots, orange tulips, buffalo mozzarella, fresh bread and more cheese (chevre), and prosecco. And she vacuumed. That's love, people.

The next day I had artichokes from the garden and a caprese for my birthday because I could and IT WAS SO GOOD.

Then to the Big Scavenger Hunt! Sisters Bethany and Christy went ALL out making it for me. It was so damn cool. A run down of how it went:

They put up a webpage that they sent with the Evite which had  a picture of a mural and a google map with no identifiers. I didn't know the mural, but I know Lake Merritt, so I was right on time for the magnificent picnic.

After we all stuffed ourselves silly and directed the people who were lost to our blankets, they handed out a knitting puzzle, one in which we finally figured out that the YOs stood for letters, which directed to us a cafe down the street.

I loved this one: It was a flier on a window that was advertising lessons for Sexy Knitting (I was sad none of the little slips of paper at the bottom hadn't been torn off). There was a url of a youtube video on it. How freaking clever is that? RachelO's iPhone to the rescue: The video led us to the library across the street which was closed, but in a pile of donated books I found a copy of How to Knit a Love Song (they'd made the cover and wrapped it around a Harry Potter book).

Inside the book was a picture of this mural:

If you click to make it big, you see that in chalk is written Smith 3339. Didn't take us long to figure out that it meant Smitty's, a bar down the way, at 3339 Grand St. Yay! Break time!

But no rest for the wicked. Bethany had knitted me the most awesome scarf of the alphabet, the letters in different colors (will show photo when she's woven in the ends, still not quite done). The scarf was the decoder for the next clue which the bartender gave us (after giving us a nice G&T). Using the colors of the letters, we worked out the clue which led us down the street 45 paces and up three steps to find this:

 

Ooh! Gelato at Michael Mischer down the street. There we found some needles:

 

After a bunch of puzzling, Bethany finally had to give us this one: the Kingsman Lucky Lounge, down the street.

 

Celia, Maia, Nate, and Sara working out the next clue (which was a bracelet of row counters acting as a decoder ring — that one was AWESOME but too convoluted to explain. We cracked it, though!).

 

Me'n'Bethany

The clue there led us down the block to Walden Pond Books, where in the knitting section we found:

 

No, Thoreau didn't write a knitting book (it was funny that several people checked the section without noticing this). Inside was a photo of another mural:

 

Me with the photo. That led us to the Grand Lake Theatre, where one guy nicely agreed to hold the clues, and the other douchebag later ripped them up and threw them out. Thanks, Grand Lake Theatre douche! You are now immortalized on The Blog! (But thanks, first guy who was nice.)

But that didn't matter! Bethany fished out the pieces of Sarah Palin and Ralph Nader charted for intarsia (HAHAHAHA) and figured out as a group that it was a clue for the Seranader lounge down the street. The clue there led us to another cafe, where I found a scarf with a sign that said Frog Me.

 

You really want me to frog it? Okay?

 

If you click for big, you can see me frogging away. See the blue yarn? And the boys in blue? Dude, I totally hemmed them in as if the yarn was police tape. They didn't say a word. Smart.

Down the road, the yarn ended:

 

At sushi!

 

How freaking GREAT is that? I had the best time. Thanks, sisters, and thank you to my guests who made my day fantastic (and to Maia for the photos!).

And yesterday I fixed our leaky faucets and started learning the fiddle. Today I'm off to take the dogs out and then to conti
nue with the last day of my birthday weekend. But it's only a 3-day work week starting tomorrow, and then I'm on vacation, so this summer thing is working out way better than I thought it would. YAY!

I've been reading, and I keep forgetting to tell you about it, so here you go! A dump of book thoughts!

Charlaine Harris, the Sookie books
First of all, I think Charlaine Harris is a doll. Don't you? I adore the fact that she sold the first Sookie book for $5,000 after publishing 20 or so other books before it. I love that she was able to hire her best friend as her personal assistant. There's a wonderful picture of her here. And her books are just fun. I'm not a big vampire gal — the Twilight books never grabbed me at all. But I love the HBO series True Blood that is based on her books. Granted, I skimmed the first one, Dead Until Dark, because it was similar to the TV show, and I wanted to get to what happens next. But I loved book two, Living Dead in Dallas. The writing is snappy and funny and fast-paced.

Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care
About a child born with bones as fragile as glass, this book got stuck in my head and hasn't left it yet (which doesn't happen often; books slide in and out of my memory so quickly). At its core, I think it's really about what a mother is and what a mother can bring herself to do. I loved it. Rich and deep.

Deidre Knight, Butterfly Tattoo
I don't know how to begin telling you about this. I should just leave it at this: if you like romance of any flavor, you should read this book. I can't explain the premise behind it and make it sound at all like something you want to read. But I'll try. Okay, Hollywood star scarred by stalker falls in love with man who is mourning his dead (male) partner and trying to raise their pre-teen daughter alone. I KNOW! That's what I said! But it was wonderful, tear-jerking (and my tears, believe it or not, are NOT easily jerked by prose), and I think you should read it. Digital only (I know. Still worth it, even if you don't have an e-Reader. I swear).

Jan Hanff Korelitz, Admission
Has anyone else read this? I don't know what to think. I have never been so ambivalent about a book I liked so well. Does that make sense? No? Okay. Let me try it another way. Korelitz's language is gorgeous, pitch perfect. The story, about a Princeton admissions officer and a familial secret, was fascinating. But every time I put the book down, I wasn't exceedingly moved to pick it back up, even though when I did, I very much enjoyed reading it. I've never felt this way about a book, and I'm not sure what caused it. The narrative was mostly internal reflection, and it's certainly possible that I'm a vapid enough reader that I lose focus when there's not more dialog. But even with that said, I would still recommend it.  And I'd love to hear what you thought about it.

Kristan Higgins, Fools Rush In
Pure fun! Wacky hijinks! The best kind! I eat her books up with a spoon. This one had a premise I wasn't sure I could get behind, but I did, and I adored the characters, especially the leading man who, in my mind, looked like a cross between Aidan Quinn and Sam Shepard. And with that last sentence I realize I am perhaps older than I thought I was. My idea of sexy is still rooted in early 90's movies. Huh. That's kind of surprising. That and Johnny Depp. And the guy that plays Eric in True Blood (creepy yum).

Marisa de los Santos, Belong To Me
Did you read Love Walked In? This is its sequel. I'm not done with this one, but I can tell you right now, it's even better. It's one of those books that I can't stand to be not reading, but I'm trying not to read it too fast, because I don't want it to be gone. (Also, it's her second book and I'm busy being WILDLY jealous that this is her sophomore attempt. My sophomore attempt is in the hands of my wonderful agent (who suggested this book, actually), and although it's apples to oranges, I can't help but wonder what the author's process was like.

(Amazon links provided for convenience, but please support your local bookseller.)

And Lala appears to be as verbose as I am today. Go read her Rah-rah-Summer entry (and get a look at that good-looking new nephew of ours!).

You like? It's new! It's a little pattern I whipped up (that took two tries — the moss stitch would NOT behave).

Detail of the easy-peasey crocheted edge.

And dudes, it's probably closest to this color on my monitor. It's BRIGHT. But I love it.

It's Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sport, in Firefly, and it is SO SOFT. So, so, so soft. I'm thinking of adding little pearl buttons, but I'm not sure yet. I kind of love it like this.

Pattern? Well. Ahem. Darlings, it's not going to be out for quite a while. It'll be the pattern for book #2. But you can wait a bit, right?

I love it. My new summer in San Francisco sweater.

Oh, MAN.

I woke up with all sorts of clever, interesting things to tell you, and since I emailed Revision Three of Book Two to my Fabulous Agent yesterday, I have free writing time in the morning before work (HELLO FOUR AM WHY AM I UP AGAIN?) for a few days, and you were gonna reap the benefit of that. Now, however, I'm sleepy and  I can't remember anything but a dream I had.

(Yes, the commonly accepted rule is that other people's dreams are boring. However, this is my blog, and I will do my best not to bore you, how's that? No promises, though.)

I was in a large train station. I found a stack of money (a lot of fifties and some ones- – WOOT) along with a bunch of checks. The checks were all made out for specific amounts, but the TO line of each was blank. 

For about as long as I would have been in real life, I was tempted to keep the money; that is to say, I was tempted for about forty-five seconds. And then I was just PISSED that in my dream I was going to be honest. (It was one of those annoying dreams where you know it's a dream but can't control it.)

It's one thing to know that in real life you would be honest. Sure. Whatever. Hopefully we all know that. But in a dream? You want to be wild! A rebel! A crook! I wanted to put the money in my pocket and head to Morocco, not trudge up to the ticket window to turn it all in. Sigh.

That, my friends, is too rigid. BO-ring. I shall work harder at being a daring criminal in my dreams.

(The next dream was about traveling with my sister Christy in Borneo, except I'd made the small mistake of bringing all three dogs and four cats. And they got out on a wild plain above the ocean. And I realized while trying to wrangle Harriet into a cat carrier that I'd forgotten to buy any souvenirs. That was not a good dream.)

PS – Almost forgot, Sile of KnitOneOne wanted me to mention for you locals a good spinning class coming up: HERE.

This is exactly what it's like when I take a bath. Top hats and all.
Melody Gardot, Baby I'm a Fool

Also, her story is fascinating.

 

I love this shot (click for big), even though Clara's eyes are glowing weirdly. It's a new trail I found this week with her while exploring the Chabot Regional Park. This was a gorgeous one: In the picture above, the hills lift high overhead, covered with oak and redwood and eucalyptus, and to the left, a cliff plunges far, far, down. If Clara turned there and looked over the cliff, she'd see treetops below. The Cascade trail clings to the middle of the hillside like this, and goes for about two miles before joining the bigger trails.

I have this new romantic idea of myself. In the vision, I write all morning, and then go tromp around the hills, just me and my trusty dog. We sit in a shaded glen, and I chew on a crusty baguette and cheese, drinking sparking water from my hip flask. Perhaps we take a short nap. Then my collie and I trek back through the hills to get me to my desk in time for a little more work before dinner with Lala.

But in reality, I don't want to carry a backpack, and I don't want to nap on the ground. Ticks worry me and there's poison oak everywhere. And usually there are other things on a day off that occupy me, things like laundry and shopping for cat food and mowing the lawn. But I like to dream about my romantic writer's day, even if I don't get it very often.