Rachael

So I'm going back to Venice. It's been what, three or four years now? [Runs to look at the blog.] Oh, my god, it's been five years. No WONDER I've been dreaming about it so much. I always dream about Venice, but it's usually along the lines of two or three times a year. Lately it's been almost weekly. I'm always trying to GET there, but something is holding me back — I'm late for the plane or I don't have my passport, and I can see the plane, sparkling there, ready to take me, and I can't get on. Or worse, I'm in a city full of cars (Mestre?) just outside Venice and I can't find a boat that will take me. Only about once a year do I actually get to Venice in my dreams, but oh, it's lovely when I do.

I was just thinking about the time I stole a boat in Venice, about eight years ago. Okay, okay, I only kind of lied my way into borrowing it. IT WAS SO AWESOME. Here's the story (from the blog back in MyGlassHouse days):

Today!

First: I decided to release the Venetian mystery I had
been reading, a la bookcrossing.com, at Harry's Bar. I
had never been there, except for popping my head in
once or twice, and I wanted a Bellini. I happened to
arrive when it wasn't that busy, so I ordered a
Bellini and a small sandwich. What was that? Oh,
that'll be fine. Whoops. What I got was a
mayo/egg/anchovy sandwich. I ate it, though.

And I released the book, even though the very
attentive maitre'd chased me out, "Prego, signorina!"
Oh, that's not mine, but thank you! And I ran.

I stopped to breathe my anchovy
breath at a motor launch. I noticed it was the launch
for the Hotel Cipiriani, the exclusive resort across
the lagoon. This is when I got the idea.

I thought for a while. Then.

I walked out on the dock and used the phone that was
thoughtfully connected there to order the boat. Yep.
Eee!

When the gleaming boat arrived, driven by the gleaming
Lovely Man, I had my Italian all planned out. "What
time is it? Have you seen my friend? Small, beautiful?
We were supposed to meet an hour ago at the
restaurant."

Number one: I didn't know if the hotel even HAD a
restaurant, but I figured it was a good guess.

Number two: The driver had no English, and my Italian
varies, and today was an off day. I might have
actually been saying, "What time is it? Have you seen
my pickle? Beer, green? We were supposed to marry
yesterday on a ski."

But he seemed to understand, no, he had not seen my
friend dee ann, and he held his hand out to help me in
the boat. Which he then drove across the lagoon, ME
HIS ONLY PASSENGER. Me, in this limo of a boat. I sat
inside. I stood in the back. I stood in the middle. I
finally stood in the front with the Lovely Man who
obligingly stopped in the middle of the choppy water,
in the sun, to take a picture of me. Grinning me. I
was giddy.

Once he helped me out of the boat, I kinda had to keep
up the ruse, since he just sat in the boat and watched
me inside. I swept in, "Is my friend dee ann here? I'm
late, and she had to leave for Greece…." As far as I
know, dee ann is either in San Diego or headed up the
coast in a fast car, but she ain't in Italy (more's
the pity). But Perfectly Groomed Eyebrows merely
smiled, "We haven't seen your friend, madame. Did she
have a reservation?"

For it was a room about the size of my living room,
full of RICH Italians wearing fur and dripping
diamonds.

"Reservations? No, we don't do reservations. I'll just
wait here, if I might? A Bellini?" I don't know where
the words came from, I swear.

"Sadly, we only use fresh juice here, madame. Would
you like fresh-squeezed raspberry juice and prosecco
instead, while you wait?"

Oh, I guessed that would be all right. By the time I
drank my drink (you DON'T want to know what that one
cost) and thanked my genial host and washed my hands
in the gorgeous bathroom (and stole some of the teeny
guest soaps shaped like hearts, don't tell), I was
genuinely getting miffed that dee ann hadn't arrived.

I scare myself sometimes. Right now Mom is saying,
"Cheeky girl." But she would have been the first on
the boat, don't let her fool you.

So on Christmas Eve, Lala and I sat down to open our presents from each other. I gave her a nice little stack, and waited in anticipation for my prezzies.

She put one in front of me.

She opened some, and yay! She liked what I got her! I opened mine — it was a cute sheep tee-shirt (this one, in fact). I loved it! Awesome!

But then she said, "I'm really sorry but I don't have anything else for you."

I goggled.

"I mean, I ordered you something but it didn't make it to the house."

Now, I've been working on not being passive aggressive. It's a bad, ugly trait, and I hate it when I get that way. So I took a deep breath and said, "Oh. I really like this shirt! But I have to admit, I'm disappointed. I planned your Christmas presents early, and I've been working on things for a while, and while I appreciate you've been busy, I have to let you know that my feelings are hurt."

She took it well. "Yes," she said. "I can understand that."

Fast forward to her brother's house. Our nephew Isaac was opening presents (okay, he opened one present, a book, and didn't have any interest in opening anything else. He loved the book). Lala gave me a box. Oops. I started to think that maybe I'd been played but then I opened the box, and I KNEW I'd been played. She totally shocked me and got me something I've never been able to justify purchasing for myself. 

A WOOLEE WINDER for my Ashford Joy. Dude! 

Okay, for those not in the know, attaching a Woolee Winder to your spinning wheel is like moving from a 1962 Fiat to a 2011 Lamborghini. The Fiat you have to futz with every few feet. You have to lift the hood. Add coolant every ten miles. Adjust the take-up, using hooks:

Whereas the Woolee Winder Lamborghini? It takes up BY ITSELF. We're talking SPEED, baby. I'm so excited about it I'm blogging before I use it, because I love to prolong anticipation. (Seriously, I cleaned the house before sitting down to write this blog.)

"I had it mailed here," she said. "Not to our house. You know all those studies I was doing? I used that money."

I was overcome. She did good.

Then I gave her her other present (and Isaac's too), so at least I didn't feel too shabby:

Hee. (It's the Mangyle pattern for her, and I just kind of made up his as I went along.)

And NOW I'm off to spin. I'm a little nervous! But I love to drive fast, so BRING IT.

I made a shawl! I haven't blocked it, and boy, it needs it, but I thought I'd show it to you now, since I think it's super cute when it's bouncy and flouncy like this:

Ravelry link here (I can't seem to find a non-Rav link for the pattern, so if you're not part of Ravelry, you should join!)

It took approximately forever to bind off (but in typical Rachael fashion, I put it away months ago, exHOSSted by it, and when I picked it up last week, I was HALF WAY THROUGH the bind off. Who does that? And then forgets about it? Sheesh).

It's out of Regia sock yarn, and I'm not even sure what kind (but I'll look it up).

Do you think that only knitters like shawls like this? I mean, really, think about it. It was pointed out to me that the only people below the age of 80 wearing shawls are knitters. Does that make us naturally uncool when we wear ours? Or does it make us more cool? I actually wonder this a lot, and while I wore this the other day, I vascillated between thinking I was ultra-hip and uber-out-of-it. I'm (obviously) more comfortable with the latter than I am with the former.

Bonus Digit shot!

To you: Happy holidays, if you celebrate, and if you don't, enjoy the days getting longer. Thanks for being a part of my life this very exciting year. xoox

The random winners of the knitting abaci are: C.C., Margaret W., and Haley. You've been emailed, and congratulations! Enjoy your useful bling.

Useful bling. Is there anything better? See, like this: 

See? Good looking AND it tells Digit where to find his favorite dog. (Clementine looks like she just saw Digit coming for her, doesn't she? Although she did not mind those ears AT ALL. She kept 'em on a long time.)

I absolutely love the knitting abacus bracelets from Hide and Sheep (list to the right to see all the bracelets) and they're giving THREE away to lucky commenters! Leave a comment below to be entered — I'll draw the winners on Friday. Good luck!

Click HERE if the video doesn't play.

(For those of you visiting for the first time, I swear I don't talk about acupuncture pillows much. Or ever. Nope, I can pretty safely say I've never done it before this last post. But forgive me — it's just so awesome!)

I haven't had real neck/shoulder pain since I started using it. The other night I was weaving and I felt the tension start, so I immediately took ten minutes and used it, and the pain was GONE.

Yesterday, though, I got a doozy of a migraine that started in my sinuses (they often start in my neck but not this sneaky bastard). Since I didn't think impaling my face on the pillow would be a prudent (or attractive) idea, I didn't. The migraine came — I was miserable. But later, after I got the shot at the doctor's office, when I was still nauseous and the pain had lodged in the base of my skull, I used the pillow and both that pain and the nausea subsided.

So for me, I'm still in love. It's not a cure-all (HA! typoed cure-ass first) but it's close.

For your reward, those of you not interested in painful pillows you can't sleep on, here's a picture of the scarf I wove (all handspun):

And what I warped last night (Noro Silk Garden Color S289):

(That's Willie on the floor, back right)

And I'm using this handspun for the weft:

And for those of you who neither spin nor impale yourself on thousands of pointy little pieces of sharp plastic, you can't deny the cutness that is Clementine's tongue:

(Post walk. Clara needs a cigarette.)