Rachael

Went out last night to a club in the City to hear some bands. My friend Jes Muse (her real name) is in a band called the Hunks. They were up second, after a one-man band. Now, let me tell you. This was bizarre. Bee-zare. His name was Fauntleroy. He wore a shiny purple sateen three-piece suit. He had a beard and a mustache, and was obviously either totally crazy or on something that you can’t buy at Safeway. He had Casio-sound coming out of his laptop that was plugged into the speakers. When he sang he jerked and twitched. He was a little tone-deaf.

But get this. He had the most amazing Tom Waits kind of timing, a very alarming use of language (this was NOT someone with whom I’d want to share a seat on Greyhound), and he completely won over the small crowd. We went from blatant snickering to rather shamefaced amusement to astonished admiration. Dude was working it. The tall skinny boys in the crowd wearing leather and spikes stopped touching their messy hair self-consciously. It went from Fauntleroy’s only friend boogying in the front row to all of us shaking our hips a little.

I don’t know why it touched me so much. And taught me again that you can’t judge a book by its cover. I’m ALWAYS wrong about covers.

Jes’s band was fabulous. Took a little warming up, but they’re good girl-punk, and Jes is freaking amazing on the drums. That kind of rhythm held in the body? I can’t imagine what that would feel like. My friend Rachel and I were the only ones really dancin’ it up, but we just couldn’t help ourselves. When you have to dance, you gotta move.

Now if only the boy next door played his drum set like that….

Today, PLEASE keep your minds focused on USPS. I want that lovely Koigu box from the boys to arrive TODAY. If it doesn’t, then I have no Koigu for the trip home for my weekend (going to see the little mama again). I want to start Cromarty! Now now now. If that doesn’t happen, then I’m taking the cashmere down south with me. But I’m just not sure exactly what I’m going to DO with the cashmere. It’s too bulky and tweedy for Rogue, and I just don’t know…. Thinking about a simple raglan vee-neck pullover. How can I go wrong? (Oh, the fear of Going Wrong with cashmere….) Hmm. Idears?

There ain’t nothing like a bacon-egg-n-cheese biscuit meal from McDonalds. With coffee. I know loving it is wrong, but I don’t wanna be right. Let’s talk grease. Lovely, salty goodness. And I have to say, their coffee ain’t bad, either.

Work is, so far, pretty quiet. Of course, the Q word is not allowed to be uttered in this room. If it is, then something awful happens and it’s suddenly very Not Quiet. And if you’re the one who said it, it’s all your fault. So I’m not gonna say it. I’ll just write it. Don’t tell.

I received a call yesterday from one of Mom’s angels. Mariko says he doesn’t like fanfare, so let’s just call him J. J gave my mother information, something she’s finding very little of elsewhere lately. I couldn’t tell him enough how much we appreciated someone who took an interest in her. I think I embarrassed him a little. But really, things like that mean the world when you feel like hell and there’s little relief to be found. Mom’s still feeling poorly and tired and shaky, and now they’re second-guessing her hyper-thyroid diagnosis. IT’S SO FRUSTRATING. And that’s how *I* feel. Can’t even imagine how she feels.

Anyway. Thank you, J. Thank you, Mariko.

(I know you shouldn’t tease an angel, but did you know Mariko is scared of Santa? Go see her insane brother for the funniest proof ever (scroll down to the 20th). I’m going home to see the little mama for my weekend, and I’ll take Mariko out for coffee to make up for this. But I had to. It’s the cutest.)

P.S. It’s not quiet anymore. My bad.

“They constantly manipulate facts, and when things don’t work out as they want, they run to mama and whine.”

Seems as if the AFA isn’t, in fact, going to take its poll on whether Americans favor same-sex marriage to Capitol Hill, as they had originally said. Hmmm. I wonder why? Humorous, but disappointing just the same. (Thanks for JStrizzy for the link.)

I got the best sleep last night! No knitting done at all, just bound off a Secret Project (pics to follow in the next few days) and called it good. I took a hot bubble bath, which I used to be good at doing every night, but I’ve fallen out of the habit recently. I tried to catch up a little with my New Yorkers (four weeks behind right now) and I got to bed at a decent time. I slept until ten minutes before the alarm would have gone off.

I took Alice Starmore’s Celtic Collection to bed with me. I’m going to make Cromarty (breathe deeply, in, out — I’m a wee bit frightened, this being my first A.S.) and I wanted to READ the pattern. You know, really understand the construction. Of course, I can’t get past the very SECOND instruction, k1b. WTF? Amy, help! Is that knit one through the back loop? That’s the only abbreviation they don’t explain in the back of the book. And it’s the second thing I’d have to do after casting on. Lord.

I’m going to do it in Koigu Kersti, from the boys, and can I just tell ya? They cut a deal with me like no deal has ever been cut. Also, I got to talk to Rob on the phone, as they were cruising — I mean looking — for a new home for Threadbear. I hate it that they have to move their business, but we’ll all pull together and order LOTS of yarn from them to make the transition a little easier, huh? We’ll sacrifice a bit. Won’t that be terrible? Ordering yarn? Stop it. And Rob? Fireball, that’s all I’m gonna say.

So I read Cromarty. That made for sweet dreams. And I tried to get further with my Proust, which the – girls – and I are reading, but I swann….. I’m loving the book — it’s rich like fruitcake and heavy cream, and it makes me drowsy and dreamy in the same way. Oh, it’s lovely. And narcotic-like.

All right. I’m bored with myself and work is busy, so I’m outta here. Have a great weekend. Mwah!

Now would be a good morning to say:

Think about Stitches West. Less than a month away! Seriously, if you’re in the Western Hemisphere (alison, you’re the only one from whom I’ll accept an excuse), you should come. Mariko and I are planning on Friday breakfast in Jack London Square at Jack’s, followed by a morning of excess at the Marketplace, and possibly lunch at Le Cheval (I haven’t asked her about that one yet…) I have to work all day Saturday, but I’ll be back on Sunday for a class and more shopping.

You know you wanna.

Absolutely too damn sleepy to write much more today. Yesterday I had lunch AND dinner out, and both meals were heavy Italian creamy pasta dishes with a beer. My pants SO don’t fit right today. And all that food kept me awake, so instead of going to sleep at ten and getting up at four this morning (had to be at work at five), I finally got to sleep about one-thirty. And why is it that on the nights I can’t sleep, Digit can’t either? He growls and paces at the windows, using my hips for purchase to get at the window next to my bed (and he had more to purchase last night, that’s fer sure).

This is painful. I’m a sleep-gal. Not that good at it, but it’s my favorite sport. Need. More. Coffee. Want some?

It’s your Friday! You did it! (and thanks for the EXCELLENT comments. What would I do without you?)
*yawn*

I love Maeve’s new Peachy-keen sweater. And her sleeve lengthening tutorial below it is fabulous. Do you think she’ll lengthen my bolero for me if I ask nicely?