Jon’s a founding member of GMADK (Gay Men Against Drunk Knitting). Hee. And he has a great new New York knitting site. His reg’lar blog is cool, too. Go say hey.
All Knitting, All the Time
What not to do:
After two beers, sit on the dim couch, watching previously TiVoed Airline episodes with sister Christy, knitting Cromarty. When you suddenly and very unexpectedly come up a stitch short in one of the patterned areas, don’t fret! Just make one, purl it as you should, and go merrily along.
I didn’t think I was that affected by beer – after all, I’ve been drinking it for years and years and knitting under its influence at Stitch’n’Bitches for a long time. When I woke up the next morning, before I even got out of bed, I though, oh shit.
I found that dropped stitch, yes, I did. Worked it back up the seven or so rows and fixed the problem, but I’m amused at how blithely I just whipped up that extra stitch without even THINKING that a missing stitch might be something to worry about. Lord.
And while we’re praying, please help me with the dyelot problem. I got the yarn from the BoyWonder Rob (and another slew of Noro 55 – I mentioned to him that it was a good thing he didn’t sell drugs – he laughed his evil laugh and inferred that the skeins might be laced…..) Koigu Kersti is one of the best yarns I’ve ever worked with, but one of its magical properties is the color – it’s hand dyed, and I knew this dyelot might be a little different. But it’s quite a lot different:
It’s the difference between a coffee with a splash of cream and cafe au lait. In certain lights, it’s not very noticeable. In others, it is. So. Now. Help me out.
** Here’s where I originally had a long What I Could Do entry. But then Marvellous Rob emailed me, saying, Oh, I have some of the darker, too. Send me your old one and we’ll match it.
See why I love him? I want to marry him. Although Matt might not like that. And you know this pesky country of ours won’t let gays marry.
Heh.
I *heart* Rob.
Which Biological Molecule Are You?
Got this from Bethany — hers was totally her, and this is totally me. Gotta love a stupid quiz.
You are a neurotransmitter. You believe in the
good-naturedness of man’s biology and soul.
You’re happy, everyone’s happy, and no one will
ever take that away from you. Or else you’ll
make them go insane.
Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Heh.
With all the news on TV lately about the sub zero weather and snow that the east coast and upstate NY areas are experiencing, we shouldn’t forget that Southern California has its share of devastating weather also. I’ve attached a photo illustrating the excessive damage caused to a home from a west coast storm that passed through the Los Angeles area a couple of days ago. It really makes you cherish what you have, and reminds us not to take life for granted!!!
* Don’t know where this originated — my sister Christy forwarded it to me in my email. Love it.
DMV. Oy. Where do they find them? I understand that their job is to deal with unhappy people. But come on, that’s my job, too. No one calls the police department when they’re ecstatically happy.
But I needed to pick up my plates (I YARN). I had an appointment last week to pick them up. Appointments rock. If you have one, you usually wait less than an hour. But when I went to remove the old plates, right before the appointment, I couldn’t get them unscrewed from the car. It was like those stupid bolts had rusted right to the car. I sat in the driveway, in the rain, after being up working and moving for 30 hours straight, crying because I was skinning my hands on the damn screwdriver. There was a gardening crew working across the street, and when I started disgusting myself by hoping that a big ole gardener would come help me I gave up, went inside and sat on the couch. I breathed.
So earlier this week, after getting a friend to remove them for me, I went to DMV without an appointment on my day off. (Appointments take about three weeks to get, and plates are cancelled and returned if not picked up after 30 days, so I had a time crunch.) I waited in line for about thirty minutes to get my slip of paper that said I would be number B140. The wait time on the scrolling marquee said I had a two hour wait. So I left and had lunch. Came back an hour and a half later — they were up to B40. I went and ran errands for an hour. When I came back, they were at B55. Two hours later, I gave up and just sat there for another hour, working on Cromarty. Basically, six hours later, they were only up to B95, and I had to be somewhere and left. Frustrated out of my mind. And it smelled funny in there. Hot and stuffy. Way too much hair product.
Yesterday, I went back for my last attempt. I arrived at 7:30, half an hour before it opened. There were only about a hundred people in front of me. When the doors opened, there were at least two hundred behind me. We waited in the ticket line, which took till 8:30 to navigate. Then I sat down to wait my turn. I watched an elderly man with limited English skills deal with the woman who was going to issue him the driving test.
She said, “You’re late. I can’t help you.”
He said, “But I wait in line.”
Loud, exaggerated words. “You’re late! Your appointment was at eight. It’s eight-thirty. Make another appointment.”
“But I take day off work for this.”
“I CAN’T HELP YOU.”
Luckily, he had a friend who advocated for him, who pointed out that he had been in line since 7:15, and it was only the sluggishness of the lines that had made him late. She still insisted that there was nothing that she could. She was SO rude and SO curt. His friend asked for a manager who said to let him take the test. Oh, that chapped her hide, all right. I was so pleased.
But the pleasure left when they called my number at 9am. Yep. The plate was wrong. It said “IYARN,” no space between the words, and it was all grouped over to the right. So the second half of the plate was blank. I even thought about accepting it for a minute. I couldn’t bear thinking about dealing with this all over again. So I asked the woman helping me. “How does this look to you?” She raised an eyebrow and said without hesitation, “Stupid.”
All right. I waited another hour for them to cancel the plate and re-send my corrected request. So in six to eight weeks, I’ll be doing this all over again.
We had a marvelous day yesterday, and it was just like we thought. It was sunny, right up until the middle of the afternoon, when it clouded over. First thing, we went and looked at the most beautiful city in the world (next to Venice) from Alameda.
Then on to BART, where we went straight the Sony Metreon, a huge glass building that houses Sony shops and arcades and a theatre and restaurants. We gazed at the wonderful floors and high glass walls, buying nothing but touching everything, and spent a brief raindroppy period in Mel’s Diner next door. We’re talking big ole french dips and a sundae the size of my head (this is becoming a welcome trend, I think).
After lunch, the sun came out again! It was one of those perfect rare San Francisco days when the wind dropped and the sun shone and people smiled. We headed, of course, to ArtFibers (our second of three yarn shops), to see my friend Kira. Greta barely got out of there alive. It is only the size of her luggage that restricts her shopping at this point. She’s already putting a box together for me to send after her. This is what makes life, good, yes?