Rachael

I keep thinking my fish Harper is gone for good. The first occurrence of his death happened while Michelle was staying in my office. I went in to feed him, stepping over the queen-sized airbed that took up the ENTIRE floor space, and he was gone.

No, really. All the way gone. There was no fish in the tank. At all.

I told myself that I was just being silly, so I pulled out the tank. I looked behind the fake plant. Then behind the ship's wheel resting on the rocks (I just typoed ship as sheep three times). No fish. That only left the little treasure chest. Oh, god. Had he swum inside and the lid (which has a hinge) closed on him? Would I lift the lid to release my dead fish? I stuck my hand in the water and opened the chest.

Nothing. No fish. I let the lid drift down and searched the bowl again. Still no sign of life. I got Lala to help me with the search. And I have to admit, the thought flitted through my mind: What did Michelle DO with my fish? Did she pack it up as a San Francisco souvenir for Scout? Midnight sushi?

La pointed out that I might want to pick UP the treasure chest. I did. And Harper swam out. Oh, god! Had he been trapped? For how long? Was it a close call? Oh, what a bad fish mom! But Lala argued that he'd swum under it — he could get out. (Marbles line the bottom of the tank, and it's uneven — I think she's right about that.)

Since then, I've found him hiding under the chest a couple of times, and twice the whole thing has been overturned and sitting upside down. I don't think I'm imagining that he's playing with it. Do fish really play? He has this habit of swimming down to the chest and then lying across it, like a chanteuse on a piano. He rests for a bit, pokes at the lid, swims up, then down again, draping himself sexily along the purple plastic. I didn't even know fish KNEW about gravity, but he does.

I love my fish.

Edited to add: I forgot, I was going to take this class, but now I can't, but that means you can! The peerless Kira will be teaching a shirt-making class at knit-one-one. I totally wanted to take it so I can learn how to make a button-down shirt for MY size. Details here.

Today was one of those days when all my fur stood up and I had wild eyes and difficulty retracting my claws. You know that feeling? I honestly think it's a reaction to an overdose of fun. Michelle visiting! Rock climbing! Stitches! Editing! Tonga Room! SO MANY ANIMALS! All very good, wonderful things.

    Me and Michelle, post Tonga Room, pre Naan'n'Curry.

But now I'm fitting back into my life. I'm remembering where I stored a normal day and dusting that off. I'm breathing, in and out. I came home from work and did yoga in my office with Harper's fish-tank bubbling and Sigur Ros playing. Then I had a piece of chicken with Lala. A glass of wine. The end of last night's Amazing Race. Now I'm off to bed, and that will fit, too. Tonight, the nerves are soothed and I'm relaxing into the place I live.

I finished Lala's sweater! I had originally wanted to finish it for Stitches, but I realized that Wondercon is her even bigger thing this weekend, and it should be done in time for that, too. So I put on speed and finished it yesterday (finished knitting the back, doing the duplicate stitch pattern, seaming and sewing in the zipper — all in one day).

And I'm so pleased.

It's Jesse Loesberg's great Retrofit pattern, free at Knitty. And it's his Space Invader chart, also (Ravelry link).

Specs:  Ella Rae Classic, 8ish balls used, 3US needles, size 46 made to gauge. Zipper from Zipperstop.com — they are the BEST.

All in all, great, easy pattern. La loves the shooter, and I love that she loves it.

TODAY: Michelle comes into town from NY! I'm so excited. She's doing Wondercon with Lala, but I'm hoping to drag her to Stitches at least for a minute. So yell if you see us, okay?

Oh, Alameda. It's a persnickety town, too privileged for its own good. I worked dispatch there for years, and I know its ins and outs — I know who the crazies are and where the pains in the ass live. I even still remember one drunk's birthday, because I ran him for warrants so many times.

Today we went to the dog park in Alameda. In the time I was there, I heard five different people gripe at each other about some small infraction: Don't let your dog too near mine, you can't trust him on the leash (why on earth is he at the dog park?), don't leave the trash can lid open, it's my turn to go through the gate. I ignored them all and we just ran around.

As we left, a woman told me what a fucking asshole the guy was that she'd just talked to. She'd told him his dog had pooped. He said thanks but didn't clean it up. I said perhaps he was going back for it later, but really, I didn't care. Some people don't clean up after their dogs. They should, I get that, but I don't care enough to police every action of those around me. She was mad at me that I'd even suggested we give him the benefit of the doubt. She's probably very stressed out all the time with other people's action, you think?

(Pt. Isabel, in Richmond, is totally different. It's Disneyland for dogs, and the humans are usually peachy-keen, too. I have to remember that.)

 

Clara has finally figured out how fun it is to stick her nose out the window (she's on a seat-belt harness that keeps her safely inside the car). It took her a long time to learn that.

I've had a lovely day so far, aside from having to go get blood tests. Dr. Smartyboots diagnosed me with gallstones earlier this week, from wisdom gleaned from the internet. I do not browse medical sites. They freak me out. I thought she was crazy, but then I read the symptoms, and went to see my doctor, who thinks Dr. Smartyboots is probably right since I have all the classic symptoms. So, blood tests. A sonogram next week. Whatever. If it is gallstones, it doesn't hurt most of the time, so I'm not too concerned.

Then I had two hours to kill before yoga, so I wrote at Gaylord's in Piedmont. When did everyone start smoking again? I'm just wondering. It seems to be hip again.

Then yoga rocked, even though I was tired and achy. Yoga is my church. I'm so in love with Loka Yoga. Then a bath, and a nap, and a dog walk, and now it's time for more writing. Then I'll head to a rendevous with a friend with whom I'm collaborating on a pretty exciting creative endeavor, and there should be beer there, so it's just a damn fine day, isn't it?

At some point I should knit. I'm getting close to finishing a sweater for Lala, since she obviously needs something to wear to Stitches next week. Instead of this:

A thrift store sweater (nothing wrong with that) full of holes (SO WRONG) that she wears all the time. She'll totally wear that, too, if I don't finish hers, just to prove that cobbler's children go barefoot.

I feel like I've been reading non-stop for a while, and I never get around to updating that little Amazon portal on the right or telling you my latest and greatest favorites.

So here are a few I've read recently that I'm still thinking about:

Still Life with Chickens, Catherine Goldhammer.

What a lovely, lovely book. A memoir about divorce and starting a single-mom life in which the author buys a small house, gets some chickens, and builds a new world for herself. Her writing is spare and elegant and true. Not since Michael Perry's Truck have I enjoyed a memoir so much. (Per his website, his new book will be out in April…. Yay!) (A reader recommended this, but I can't remember who, so thank you, whoever you are!)

Casting Spells, Barbara Bretton.

Oh, I loved this. It was — get this — a paranormal knitting romance. And I LOVED it. (I don't read paranormal/magic anything usually.) Great, engaging writing, fantastic characters (a non-magic (she thinks) yarn store owner living in town full of people with strange powers, and the cop who comes around investigating a murder). It was like a wonderful yarn-ey Brigadoon story, and I highly recommend it. (And while I was reading it, Barbara herself contacted me to see if I wanted to group blog at Romancing the Yarn. To be in her company in cyber-space? Hell, yes!) (Recommended by local cutie Cordelia — thanks!)

Just Desserts, Barbara Bretton.

Unable to get enough with just Casting Spells, I moved on to the next Kindle-able one I could get by Barbara, partly to see if her love of knitting was what made Casting Spells sparkle. Nope. It's her love of romance, and words. She's awesome. This one was about a bakery owner whose famous rock-star father finds her — the lawyer negotiating the "find" falls for the independent single mother, and no matter how strange the set-up sounds, it's a great tale.

Too Good To Be True, Kristan Higgins. 

You know what I love about Higgins? I could read her all day, every day. She writes those books that are so fun you can't wait to pick the book back up. You just know there's going to be a wacky hijink on the next page and it's going to be funny as hell but it's also going to move the conflict/love story right along. This one: Her sister's dating her ex-fiance, so to show people she's all right, she makes up a fake boyfriend, all the while falling for the ex-con next door.

Knitting the Threads of Time, Nora Murphy.

I was graciously given a review copy of this memoir. The author knits a sweater for her son, and writes about the crafting of it through the year, adding bits of fiber history along the way. I enjoyed the memoir parts more than the history, but that's because I'm a big loser and not that smart; I like creative non-fiction better than Real History. However, every knitter passionate about the history of our craft would like this very much.

Anything new you're loving? Hmmm?

Mmmmmm.

I'm home. I've spent two hours today driving in the pouring rain, in the dark. I've decided that I hate that. I know that's a big shock. I'm sure you LOVE driving in the dark in the rain at  speed in heavy traffic.

I also realized, after hydroplaning twice, that hydroplaning is YOUR CAR FLOATING ON WATER. No. I do not like that. I had a couple of little hydro-boosts, and one scary go-one-way, skim-back-another.

It was my brother-in-law's birthday, so after my shift, I met him and
Lala for Indian food at House of Curries. They thought I was kidding
when I said I wanted a Tikka Masala for myself. I was not kidding.
Tikka Masala (who cares about the chicken — it's all about the sauce),
rice, and garlic naan. I am stuffed. It was worth the rain.

And now I am liking being home. At my desk. I have two great piles of papers, one of either side of my computer — I got my final edits from my editor! And I can't tell you how exciting it was yesterday to pull almost a ream of marked-up paper from an envelope, how cool it was to go through the revision letter, to glance at the pencil marks, to set it on my desk and start working. (There will be another round, I'm told, of copy-edits, but these are the last big Decisions being made.)

But now, bed. Oh, and I'll finish this half-glass of wine. If I must.