Rachael

This:

Was going to be this:

But I totally effed up, twice, and spent two days ripping. I finally figured out that I had started the garment twice using the wrong row for the right side, and those cables would never pop out. Damn it all to hell and back.

I know many people are accomplished froggers. They don’t mind pulling and rewinding and starting over. I MIND! I ain’t doing this again. It’s Mission Falls 1824 cotton, and I never knew how fab that stuff is. I’m making a ChicKami someday out of it, not that damn baby sweater.

This is more like it:

Easy, quick, cute enough, just needs some buttons and I’ll be done. I know it’s not half as impressive, but the baby’s gonna throw up all over it, so it’ll be fine. Yow!

almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend almost my weekend……

Only ten hours off last night, and that makes it hard to get enough time to sleep, let alone write…. I hate it when I slip into using ellipses…. all the time…..

Enough. Enjoy your day!

First of all, let me answer a couple of people before they come a-knocking – the Noro raglan took about eight skeins. Maybe a little less, but let’s call it eight and the small size is pretty darn safe. Or call it ten and make a little Booga J bag out of the leftovers…..

And oo-la-la. This one makes me want to sing. It’s Sunday morning. Shawl we? I know we’ve seen it before, but let’s see it again: It’s Marcy’s and it’s fabulous.

I think the “draped over a chair” theme has to stick. Go check out her hair, too. Cute as a bug. That’s what I want MY hair to look like.

So I’ve done a little housekeeping. A little Italian upkeep – to the left are my Italy emails from the last three trips. The first was when I went alone to Venice for a week and then met a couple of friends for the grand tour. The second was Mama and me, two months after September 11th. The third is the latest one (prolly the most fun to read, since I was alone for the whole trip). They’re not for the faint of heart. Read only if you’re 1) deeply in love with Italy or 2) want to be. They’re saccharine love notes, I know. The only way to go.

What’s cool about them, though, is that they’re also posted on my old site. Every once in a while I get random notes from strangers asking where to stay and what to do, especially in Venice. Recently I got this question from a woman in Britain looking for cheap digs for her family. I gave her some pointers and info on my favorite hotel, Hotel Bernardi-Semenzato. I just got this fantastic note and picture from her (reprinted with her permission, of course):

Hi Rachael

…. I just wanted to say a HUMUNGOUS thank you. We have just returned
from an utterly fantastic two days in wonderful Venice and your
recommendation came up trumps. They gave us a whole suite
(two bedrooms, bathroom, hallway) in the annex with views
over the canal – must be the room they’ve
taken their picture from for the front of the brochure/website.

We took advantage of the ridiculously cheap ‘city break’ flights that
operate from our local airport. We departed Monday evening and had all
day Tuesday and all day Wednesday in Venice, leaving late Wed. evening
for flight home. We managed to see alot and do alot (Basilica,
Campanile, Acadamia, Guggenheim, water taxi, gondola, ice cream, cake,
bread, pizza, several other churches, human sculpture man and amazing
guy from Russia playing ‘glasses’) and actually felt like we’d been
away for at least a week. I think we broke some sort of record when all
7 of us piled into a gondola!

Have you ever been over to the glass factories on Murano? Seeing glass
being blown was something we thought would be good to do with the kids
but hadn’t appreciated that it all happened on a different island and
we weren’t sure whether we’d have enough time. In retrospect, had we
known exactly where we were heading and what times they were open to
the public, we could have fitted it in. Spotted at least a couple of
gorgeous yarn shops and all those beautiful beads!!!!!!!

I was going to attach a picture of us all enjoying ourselves but there
isn’t one with us all on in the ones I’ve downloaded, so I’ll have to
wait until I get film developed. Meanwhile here is an interesting shot
looking up the Campanile with some of the children’s feet in the
foreground!!

Lots of love and many thanks again –
Jane

Isn’t that the coolest? Makes me SOOO happy to help people with Italy questions or dreams, ‘specially the city of my heart.

Happy Sunday!

Another Wave done!

This one is by Debbie in Germany and the colors are amazing. (And I love the shot of it over the chair – isn’t it romantic looking?)

It’s hot here. It’s six-thirty in the morning and it’s blessed hot. Gonna be a scorcher today, that horrible easterly wind that we get up here. Down south on the Central Coast where I grew up, we call these the Santa Anas. Here they’re just called crappy weather. They make you feel sick and sneezy and grumpy and generally cause people to punch each other unexpectedly. They aren’t pleasant. It’ll make for a busy Saturday at work.

God, I’m so slow-witted today. I got up and did my morning pages, and while the point is to “keep the hand moving,” my hand kept resting on the page while my mind traispsed off without me. That’s not uncommon, and it’s happening now, too, but I like to at least keep it somewhere in the same room…..

One cool thing though: Yesterday I lost my calendar. Before the job I have now, I had never been a calendar person, but with this job and the amount of overtime and rep work we do, we all have to LIVE by our calendars. If I want to get something done on a workday (like this writing right now), it has to be scheduled in. My calendar holds my official overtime balance and the running balances of how much time I owe people and how much is owed me. And it wasn’t in my purse.

It’s ALWAYS in my purse. I’m anal. I never lose anything. That’s an exaggeration. I assume that I’ve lost something in the last ten years, but if I did, I can’t remember what it was. I’m one of those people that walks in the door and hangs my keys on the peg without thinking. Everything has a place. And I couldn’t find the goddamned calendar. I tried not to panic and looked in every bag I carry to work, around the places where the purse had been, under the balls of yarn next to the bookcase (because doesn’t EVERYTHING fall into the yarn basket?). Nothing. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I wrote myself a note before bed. “Where is my calendar?” Then I put a little “Thanks” after it.

I went to sleep comfortable in the knowledge that my mind would figure it out while I slept. I woke up, ready to remember. And the calendar is…. I waited. Nothing.

Terribly disappointed. My subconscious had let me down.

I did my morning pages, thinking about it (maybe that’s why I kept wandering away from them).

Then I sat down to write this, looked down at the carry bag that I had torn apart four times yesterday and thought, oh, yeah. There’s one more pocket I never checked and I know it’s in there. It was.

Don’t know if that’s a result of asking the question or just recovering from a brain fart but it just goes to prove that it’s okay to be anal. It’s okay for everything to have a place. I can’t take the stress. Lord, how do people live with other people? I understand a little more now why my mother got so upset when we would borrow her hammer and leave it in the backyard. Or the treehouse. Or at Jenny’s under the boat. “Use your father’s hammer!” Yeah, well, Dad couldn’t find any of his six hammers (because they were in the back yard, or under the car, or at Paul’s on the roof), and we knew hers was always in the kitchen cabinet, hanging to the left of her gloves, above the rags, next to the box of matches and her pliers.

I swear there will be knitting pictures in the next few days. I’ve just been doing too much else and haven’t made much progress on the sweater I started. The unnamed sweater. I’m using a minty green yarn that looks kinda irritating and cloying while in the ball but has surprising flecks of yellow and blue when knit up. I already know I’ll NEVER be able to catch the color on a digital camera, so I’ve been slow to document its progress.

Slow to move, period. Must have coffee. Enjoy your weekend!
PS – Bethany’s still in MN! And Alissa did her own virtual ramble along the Texas highways. How fun! Anyone else?

All day training yesterday and today out in Antioch, a suburb just west of Hell, so no post today. Just – THANKS, y’all, for coming with me on the road trip. I loved loved loved getting your comments. Man. No wonder I used a lot of gas. There was a lot of cumulative weight in that little car.

Oh, it makes me happy……

Since a few of you expressed interest in my ride down the coast, I thought we’d go on a spin together, okay? It’s a virtual ride, so we save gas this way (as opposed to driving to Brooklyn and then Taipei, as was suggested).

Hop in and buckle up! (I’ve got good tires, don’t worry.)

The day starts with an attempt at modeling the finished Noro Raglan with the buttons finally attached. Digit gets in the way and the show is brought to an abrupt halt.

After several false starts (the bank, the gas station), the top goes down and we drive over the Bay Bridge. The fog is thick, but it’s not cold. Just the right weather for a three-quarter length sleeved sweater, dontcha think?

While conversing on the cell phone (I’m sorry, I know it’s rude while you’re in the car, not to mention dangerous), we miss the exit. Whoops. Now we’re lost. Note my “I’m LOST!” face.

Okay, we figured it out. Feeling proud of ourselves, we cut through Golden Gate Park, heading west toward Ocean Beach on Fell St.

We turn left when the street hits the edge of the continent and pull over to take a couple of snaps. It’s a gorgeous day, and our bird-like friends know it.

It’s a good thing you’re here to take pictures of me! Goodness knows I hate doing it for myself…..

Okay, now we’re a little scared. Well, we don’t admit until later over lunch, but we’re terrified. We have a hard time keeping the rear end of the car in front of us in view in this soup. The headlights aren’t working the way we’d like them to – they just reflect the glare of the fog back at us. Devil’s Slide is horrifyingly scary, but in that gonna-get-through-it kind of way. Good thing my tires are so great or I’d turn around right now. This was the best of it:

Coming down into Montara, the sun breaks through for just a minute. Isn’t this wonderful?

Put your sunglasses on – the glare is something else.

In Half Moon Bay, damn it all, we fall right into Fengari, a fiber paradise. I hate it when that happens.

A wall of Noro…..

And a wall of fog, just waiting for us, clinging to the water’s edge.

But while the fog is to our right as we drive south, this is to our left.

We pull over here, and it looks like we’re the only ones!

Ain’t it gorjess?

Take off your shoes – let’s walk down to the water. You can’t come to the beach and not put at least your fingertips in. It’s a strict rule.

It’s just a leetle too rough to swim. Of course, if you weren’t here, I’d probably barrel in and swim a couple of miles. Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I ALWAYS do in frigid rough water. I don’t want to embarrass you, though. Uh huh.

The fog is still clinging down here.

Oh, stop it already! Don’t you know I’m shy?

All right, pile back in, and I’ll drive us to the real reason we’ve come so far. Duarte’s, in Pescadero. But to really seem dialed in, do pronounce it correctly: DOO-erts. No lie.

You get whatever you want, I know I’m getting the crab sandwich and a pint of Newcastle. We watch the British trio in the corner fight with their mussels.

But when they start discussing what to have for dessert, I can’t help it. I get up, go over, and say, “I hate to intrude, but you have to have the olallieberry pie.”
Gent One says, “What a laleelaleebrie?”
“Genetically, it’s a blackberry crossed with a…. raspberry? Boysenberry? I can’t remember.”
Gent Two is horrified, “A poisonberry??”
“Boysen, boysen…. Don’t worry about it, just get it.”
“Cheers, then. We will.”

Here’s my piece. Don’t worry, I’ll share.

We hated it, I gather. (So did the Brits, by the look of their demolished plates.)

We take the long way inland. This is what the road looks like.

And this is what I look like, after a beer, some crab, a coffee and a piece of the best pie in entire universe (and I don’t even care for pie):

You can’t miss gawking at the Pink Flamingo house above the river.

I know. It’s horrible, isn’t it? We have to rejoin society. But at least it’s a crystal-clear day inland, and out here from the San Mateo mid-span, we can see the City, Oakland, some of Berkeley, and south past the Dumbarton. A jet flies so low over the convertible that we duck and pretend that we didn’t.

Back in Oakland, headed under the Maze. Seven levels, we’ll be right at the bottom of the stack. Pray there’s no earthquake.

Traffic. Sigh.

Wait! I know we’re back at my house now, but I forgot to return a video. Wanna take a walk? [I find myself wondering if I’ve lost my mind and tell myself that someone somewhere besides myself might enjoy this, so I’ll keep going with it.]

Bet you didn’t know this is what Oakland can look like, huh?

This one’s for Em.

See? We have fall colors here, too!

My local theater. The video store’s just around the corner.

That’s done. Almost home now. One more thing to do – let’s peek in someone’s house:

You’re a dear and a darling for coming with me. We had so much fun! See you this weekend! Mwah!