Rachael

On my weekend. Can now officially relax.

So what am I doing? Today:

Morning pages
Blogging
Washing the Digit-hurl blanket
Going out for more kitty litter (hello, procrastination)
Paying bills
Cleaning the house
Writing
Wandering the City, looking for yarn, hopefully getting together with a friend.

I hope to get to that fun stuff at the bottom. But I have to do the others first. First three are done or in process, fourth is high on the list, and I suppose paying the bills and cleaning can go to hell if I don’t get to ‘em. Isn’t it Annie Lamott who talks about no one on their death bed wishing they had scrubbed more toilets? Something like that. (Sick secret: I love to scrub toilets. Floors, not so much.)

Today is one of my favorite days of the year. Eleven eleven. Eleven is my favorite number and I always think you can’t go wrong on a day like today, although once I broke my foot while WALKING across the Golden Gate Bridge on this day. BUT it was offset by me being on a terrific first date that led to a terrific relationship – she came to the hospital with me and held my hand and made me laugh.

Two years ago to the day, my mother and I sat in the square in Siena (there’s only really one, and it ain’t square) and drank red wine. We felt happy, lucky, and blessed. She’d had colon cancer surgery two months prior on the same day that terrorists hit the WTC, and for these reasons we weren’t sure we would honor our plane tickets. But we did, and it was the most wonderful trip I’ve ever been on. I remember sitting in that square, as we watched the locals walk past in the lowering dusk, lifting our glasses until our cheeks were pink, toasting her health and our luck and our blessedness.

Mmmm. On that wonderful memory, I wish you a very happy Eleven Eleven!

Good lord, I’m tired. Migraine again last night. Tired all day. While training is interesting and makes the time pass quickly, it’s HARD.

Stepped out of my car tonight in front of my house and I smelled the most amazing smell. It’s unbelievable, and I can’t think how to describe it. Hmmmm. You know that autumn smell of wood-fires burning? It was that, in the crisp, cold air, with the full moon hanging bright, but it was married with the strongest smell of cinnamon! It was holiday paradise. I felt like I was walking through a Hallmark commercial. Surreal.

I thought, Damn, my life is good. I was happy to open the door and greet Adah, happy to go into the back yard and find Digit, who ran meowing to my feet, happy to feed both of them.

MUCH less happy when Digit projectile vomited all over the living room. All over the blanket I made for Beth years ago (and which I’m keeping for her while she’s on the roadtrip). All over the corduroy couch.

Deep breaths. Lots of 409. No more food tonight. For either of us.

But it’s fall! Isn’t it the best? I can’t wait for my weekend – I want to rent movies and sit on my couch and knit the Must Have and oh yes, did I mention I’m seeing the Indigo Girls on Thursday? And Dar Williams on Saturday? (and I’m broke, but it’s worth it.)

Hope your moon is bright.

https://rachaelherron.com/good_lord_im_ti/

I did it, I wrote. I’ve discovered (and what writer hasn’t, except me apparently?) that it’s GREAT to write at the coffeeshop. I always thought there would be too many distractions. And it’s true, there are a lot of ‘em. Weird-looking dogs. People who sing. People who talk on their cell phones WAY too loudly (common courtesy, folks, that’s all I’m sayin’).

But you kinda look up, you notice, you look back down and go on working. At home I have SO many more distractions, and there’s always the option of standing up and doing other things, all those other little things that absolutely must get taken care of right now. When you’re out of the house, those reminders are gone. It’s fun just to sit and write and drink chai and dream. Felt like playing.

I love that feeling.

It also felt like playing last night when I took BART into the City to meet the girls for knitting. It was raining and I got incredibly lost walking around looking for the bar where we were supposed to meet. I had Yahoo-mapped the directions, which is, let’s face it, not always the best way to go. I ended up about three-quarters of a mile down Delores in the wrong direction, in the rain. But it was awesome. Lost in the rain, on SF streets, it felt romantic and adventurous. If I had never found the bar, it would have turned into something quite irritating, but I called my friend Brooke who knew exactly where I was supposed to be and how to get there.

And so I ended up at Papa Tobey’s Revolution Art Bar Cafe. Yup. With the sliding walls opened all the way to the street and the rain, with its drunk cowboy who’s apparently a regular, with acoustic music sung by extremely sensitive women, with the back of the bar filled with eight or nine knitters, it was awesome.

Part of the group:

The cowboy, playing chess and drinking under the overhang, next to the rain:

But hey. Knitting cables by candlelight, two beers down, without a cable needle? Daring, to say the least. I swore quietly. A lot. But it was worth it.

Working fourteen hours Saturday, so I’ll see you Sunday?

A quick word to say Happy Friday (my Monday) and it’s off to work with me. Didn’t get up early today – had too much fun at the bar knitting last night. Will tell you about it later. In the meantime, Bethany’s settling in…..

https://rachaelherron.com/a_quick_word_to/

Three posts in one day? I can’t stand it.

First, must say that Debbie Stoller bought yarn from my friend Kira at Art Fibers this afternoon. Uh-huh.

And second, look at what Missa whipped up. And I mean it took her about forty-two seconds to come up with two (excellent) choices. I chose this one:

Steal it!
Link it!
Whoo hoooo! We’re tatt-ing now, and we don’t need no shuttle, neither.

https://rachaelherron.com/three_posts_in_/

holy cow, I love this story from alison.