Rachael

LOST SHEEP: Shepherd Daniel Devine carries this merino (“Shrek”), which has evaded shearing for six years on New Zealand’s South Island – and has the wool to prove it.
STEPHEN JAQUIERY/OTAGO DAILY TIMES/REUTERS

More HERE. Thanks, Maeve, for the heads up!

Bethany “They’re already setting up for the March!”
Rachael – “How could you tell you were in the right area?”
“I was in this place where they were putting up banners, and I wondered, and then the speakers started blaring Sarah McLaughlin.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Dude! I just almost got hit by a limo!”
“Are you driving through DC and talking to me at the same time?”
“I’m NOT driving!”

T minus how many days? Four? Jaiz, I’m getting freaking excited. I’ve done almost nothing to get ready for the trip, though. I am the biggest packing/list whore there is. Usually. When I travel abroad (ahhhh….), one of my favorite parts is the list-making. That’s why it’s so weird that I’ve done nothing. I think I have a note to myself somewhere that says to change the sheets for my house-sitter. I know I’ll forget that one, though. I’ve barely thought about what I’m bringing to wear. Travel in the US seems so much easier and so much more difficult at the same time.

When I leave the country, I take one of everything: one dose of sudafed, one of tylenol cold, one bandage, one tube of antiseptic cream, one needle, one clothesline. Here, I know I’ll never be out of range of a drugstore. But the pace of the US is so fast. You’ve gotta know where you’re going and how to get there and where you’re going to stay and what you’re going to do. Or at least, when thinking about a US trip, that’s how you’re made to feel.

I’m trying to reject that. I know where we’re staying in DC, because with the March and millions of people descending on the city, that was imperative (and ass-expensive, too). I know where we’re staying for the Festival, because I want to worry only about wool. I know how we’re getting to NY and back.

That’s it. That’s just about all I know. I’m taking a page from Greta’s book. She knows she doesn’t need those kinds of plans, that it will all work out, and it does, and happily so. Why is that so easy for me to accept in other countries, but not here? I’m working on it. I’m going to transplant my Italian serendipity and place it right on the east coast. Kay?

Oh! I started the Bella cardie in Calmer last night. I think I might really be crazy. 2+ weeks? In lace? Every other row there are these weird k2togs that, because of the following y.o., are just tricky to pick up. I have to look at and fiddle with every single damn k2tog. I don’t know why they’re wonkier than normal k2togs…. Frustrating and slow. Oy. But it’ll be good non-boring travel knitting.

And go read Cari today. (Well, every day, for that matter.) I love her.

Worst spam header so far: “Slay creche.” Who opens those things? Worse, who writes ‘em?

Forgive me if I’m a bit ragged-edged today. I’ve been running hither and thither, a million errands and can’t seem to remember a one. My friends Rachel and Kira (of ArtFibers) are getting married the day after I get back from my trip, and they asked me to say a few words. I hadn’t been thinking much about clothing, knowing I could pull a little something from my closet, but when I looked, all my best clothes are variations on black. While I’m not opposed to wearing black to weddings anymore, I think I’m actually a co-officiant and black just won’t do in that case.

But navy blue might! I found a cute cocktail type dress with a nice Jackie O kind of neckline, tags still attached (Spago, anyone?) for half-off $1.99. Shoes: navy strappy heels from Payless Shoe Source, $10.41. Rowan Calmer (color Slosh) from Article Pract for the Bella cardie I simply have to make before then: $80ish. That’s eighty dollars OUT of the MD yarn budget. Oy. But I have to make it. Good airplane knittin’, right?

Are my spending priorities totally out of whack? (Mom, you’re not allowed to answer that.)

Back to running around. I’m fighting an ear infection, and dear Greta told me about sweet almond oil (I’ll do that in a few minutes) and Rescue Remedy, which is interesting and weird and I think I like it. Anyone else use it?

Two new blogs have arrived!
Juliette, who might get a tattoo with me someday, and my friend Exy. Go say hi!

What fabulous fun I just had. Damn. My friend Christina, owner of Article Pract (my LYS), and I went out for lunch. We went to the Temescal Cafe, where we had the knitting meet-up last week, and where I think I’ll be spending more time. I’ve been looking to adopt another cafe, as my old walk-able one is just too far away now. This could be it, folks. I could see myself writing there. We had a fabulous veggie sandwich with excellent smoked gouda and avocado, and then we went over to the (closed) shop — how cool is it to be in a closed yarn shop? –where she asked me if I wouldn’t mind helping her with special orders.

I was a bit nervous. I thought special ordering yarn would be tricky and precise. Nope. She showed me how to find the color needed in the swatch books, and then she’d say, “Hey, order five more bags of whatever colors you like. Okay, three for Classic Elite Waterspun. Two more colors for Anny Blatt Super Angora.”

In through the nose, out through the mouth. I got to choose yarn! I got to ORDER yarn and not pay for it! I got to touch all the little samples I wanted to touch.

Playing it cool: Yeah. *shrug* It was all right.

I was grinning ear to ear.

From playing it cool to playing catch up: There are certain questions that keep coming up in comments that I’ve been meaning to answer and kept forgetting about. ‘Cause I’m like that, you know.

1. Cromarty.
Dude. Ms. &tarmore’s creation has been put on hold. I’ve got the sleeves and the front totally done. Then I came close to running out of my dyelot of Koigu Kersti(I had received every skein of said dyelot) because my stitch style EATS yarn. Rob has sent a remaining skein up to the wonder-dyers of Koigu who apparently LOVE him (who wouldn’t?) because they’re working with us on the problem. While I can’t wait to have a finished object, I am (obviously) enjoying my break.

2. The Doctor.
What can I say? Fizzle. We had those coupla-three dates and nothing. We emailed desultorily for a while, and then let it wither on the vine. It seemed totally like a mutual death. Come on, I’ve never had a kiss with that little chemistry. It was like kissing the top of my cat’s head. Only I WANT to do that.

3. Vacation Plans.
It’s close enough now that I can reveal what I’m gonna do this month. I’m so FLIPPING excited. I’m flying in to DC on Saturday, where Bethany will pick me up in her truck named Tach and I’ll get to give her (Beth, not the truck) the BIGGEST squeeze ever. Then we meet up with darling Em, and the next day we’re meeting Maggi and Maureen to march on Washington. I’ll be wearing, of course, my KAB shirt (have you seen Maureen’s store? Her profits actually go to worthy causes. As do mine, for that matter. If you think Buy Rachael Some More Yarn is a good cause. I do.)

Then, it’s up to Brooklyn, for some more fun with Em, and I get to meet my favorite novelist, Cari. Yarn stores in New York, baybee. Hear me roar. Then it’s truckin’ back down to meet up with our Greta for the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival.

*insert little chair dance here*

I’m joining the SpotTheBlogger plan – I’ll be wearing the Knitting is Sexy shirt with MyGlassHouse on the back. Find me! Point at me! Laugh at me! (I won’t notice, I never do.) And I get to see ALL the SHEEP!

(Bethany, honey, let me apologize in advance. We’re going to be seeing a lot more yarn than you probably ever wanted to see. At least you’re a knitter now. You’d kill me in my sleep with a blunt dpn if you weren’t.)

Then back to stay with Maggi for a night (or two?) and then we’re off for our own few days of unplanned adventure. All I know is I have to end up in Boston to fly out on the 8th of May. How we get there is going to be spontaneously decided.

Man. I get all giddy and silly just thinking about the Fun To Be Had.

And I still have eight Cadbury Creme Eggs left.

I just counted the days in my book. I’ve been writing this novel for about a year (oh, be honest, more like sixteen months), and I just realized I’ve only moved three weeks into my character’s life. That’s a whole lot o’days spent on each day. I’ve got the Pioneer Melissa thing going on – I feel there’s a lifespan for every piece of writing, and my book’s days are numbered. I need to finish it, edit it (!), and get moving on the next one. I’m not scared, really, just mindful. I don’t need any more two month breaks. I don’t even need a week’s break (well, vacation is vacation. I don’t write fiction when I’m on the road. Too much of the travel’s flavor winds up in scenes that don’t need the seasoning.)

Slow and steady wins the race.

Man, cliches are annoying. But they feel good to say, don’t they?

I finally finished the Interminable Yoke on the man’s raglan I’m working on. I’d show it to you, but there’s no way to make gray 3×1 ribbing interesting in a photo. I tried.

Oh, hey, I found a new place for yarn money in my house. Thought I’d share in case you’d like to look in your house for extra cash, too. Christy asked me if was growing out my hair. The answer is technically no. I do like the length, but it had been getting pretty damn shaggy. It was driving me crazy. I love the woman who cuts my hair (so please don’t tell her this story), but this is what I thought before the knitting meet-up last week: I pay $50-60 for my cuts. I was about two months overdue for said haircut and REALLY needed it.

I took a shower, combed my hair while wet and snipped away. I’ve had MORE compliments on this cut than I have in a long time. I decided that my knitting philosophy (it’ll never be noticed from a trotting horse) applies well to crooked hair. And that $60 went right to yarn last week at Article Pract.

Heh. It’s like I’m getting over on myself. But it still feels good.

Oh, here’s hair and raglan crop-top:

It’s an addiction, people. Admit it. Now I have to call my pusher, Rob. Did you know he has Rowan Calmer? Lord. I think that cabled hoodie in Debbie Bliss’s book Cotton for All Seasons would be great in Calmer….. Yep.

And before I forget (I just keep going, don’t I?), reader Anna who came to our knitting meet-up is doing the Aids Ride, something I am in awe of. If you’d like to donate and make a difference, go here. Go Anna!

You know what’s interesting? To me, anyway, and since you’re reading, come along. I’ll tell you.

I hadn’t been reading fiction when I wasn’t writing. For the last few months, I’ve been reading mostly non-fiction, things like writing manuals and biographies and the New Yorker. This is totally unlike me, the fiction queen. I’ve always sneered a little at non-fiction, thinking it dry and dull. Shows me. The non-fiction I’ve been reading has been fascinating and wonderful and witty and smart and so fine.

But it wasn’t fiction. Down south, over the weekend, I picked up a novel that Mom had just finished, A Certain Slant of Light. Not only was it gorgeous, lyrical writing (with some great references to spinning and wool and fiber – the author obviously knows her sheep), but it started filling something that I didn’t know was empty. That first night, lying in bed, reading her words, I felt as if I were drinking water after being in the hot sun all day. Every word tasted good.

While I was reading, my brain turned on. It started to think again as a writer. In between paragraphs I thought of my own characters. It was like they were standing up and waving to me. “Hey! Over here! Remember us?”

Seriously, it was weird. But really, really good.

I have eggs on the boil (is there anything as good as a hard-boiled egg, still warm?) and I’m ready to make my coffee. It’s windy as hell outside, and I feel sorry for the little plant-lets I put out last week. Some of the flowers have just broken right off and over. And I just decided right here and now that I don’t like my garden plan. I hadn’t been sure, but now I know. I also I know it isn’t going to be changed until after my vacation, so I won’t worry about it now.

Do you know that with work and prior obligations and being out of town, my next free no-plans night is MAY SEVENTEETH? That, friends, is ridiculous. But short of canceling my trip (HELL, no), there’s nothing else I can change. Yipes. I’ve scheduled a couple of do-nothing afternoons, though.

Can’t figure out how to end this entry. So: Good bye. Mwah.