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Oh, you people always knock our socks right off. My feet, they are cold and sock-less because you are so generous. She’s already (!) broken her target amount, but don’t let that stop you from donating to a very worthy cause or entering the raffle if you still want to. And if you haven’t read it already, go read Lala’s post about her ride. She spent a lot of time and thought composing it, and I think she was a bit chagrined to find that my friends (that’s YOU) just read my post and went and donated. I think she thought she’d have to talk you into it, so she makes a compelling argument. But the Code of the Knitter says Donate First, Knit Later. The faster we do something nice for someone else, the faster we get to the knitting.

Thank you. Thank you SO much.

We had a fundraising party for her this weekend — it went well. My sister’s fabulous band Deadpan Alley played, and they were great (you can hear songs here — I’m really fond of East Coast Boy). They were followed by The Whoreshoes, who looked and sounded oh-so-fine:

    Music in our own backyard

    Camilla, Joni and Diana rockin’ out

    Diana, Emily, and Lala

I’m sad I didn’t get any shots of Lala playing the bass, her new favorite instrument. Since I think we might have to give away three or four of the animals to make room in our house for an upright, I’m trying not to encourage her new passion for it. But she was good at it. She really was.

Also: MUST SHARE NEW FAVORITE PARTY TREATS

Ideas gleaned from the interwebs, posted here so I can find them again.

#1 – Caprese sticks. Thread a small piece of fresh mozzarella (TJ’s had tiny mozza balls in a tub), a cherry tomato (heirloom cherry toms from TJ’s!), a little bit of basil, and another small piece of mozzarella on a toothpick. Do this many, many times. Place them on a platter. Drizzle with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. DEELISHUS. This is my favorite salad, now on a stick.

#2 – Bacon-wrapped figs. People freaked out. No, they did. People who don’t like figs freaked out. Take one package of bacon (mine had 16 pieces), and cut all pieces in half. I got a tub of black figs from TJ’s. I pulled the stem off each, wrapped a half-piece of bacon around it, stuck a toothpick through it and cooked them at 350 for about an hour. Baconey goodness with a sticky-sweet middle. It was AMAZING. I want them for dinner every night. They disappeared. I will make twice the amount next time.

Now I am tired. I saw many crazy-interesting things at the Maker Faire, took no pictures, but saw nice readers (Steampunk Amy is adorable!), and left happy. Tomorrow I am on-call, so I might have to suddenly get up at 4:30am, so I should head to bed on that off-chance. So, goodnight. And thank you.

    Sister Christy and me. Half of Deadpad Alley! (Took one of myself and sister Bethany, too. She claim I never post those ones, but it’s only because I looked somewhat rabid in it. She was adorable, as usual. You’ll have to take my word for it.)

Thanks, y’all, for your thoughts. We really, truly appreciate it. Besos.

But now, let’s move on to happier things. Like Lala riding the AIDS ride!

Do you know how insanely crazy she is for signing up for this?

SEVEN DAYS on a bicycle, riding from San Francisco to Los Angeles.
Dude, it gives me a butt-cramp just to drive that far. I’m not kidding.

But seriously, she has inspired me. I have seen her, the Queen
of Sleeping-In, get up at 6:30am on Sunday mornings, week after week. And she is NOT a morning person. At all. It’s like waking a hibernating bear, only the bear would be more jolly about it, probably.

It must be really
irritating to her that I mock her pain by telling her how getting up
at 6:30 is sleeping in by more than two hours for me. I’d want to smack me,
and the fact that she doesn’t is just more proof that she has been a
real trouper during this whole training thing. Then I roll over and go back to sleep, and she goes and rides up and down mountains.

She has this huge dream of doing something big, something good. But during the
grueling training she’s sometimes doubted whether or not she’ll
actually be able to do it. Especially after strong winds, bad falls, and sandwich stops that fail to materialize.

But I’ve never doubted her ability, physical
strength, or mental determination, not for one second. And this is what I can’t wait for: For her to finish. Because I’ll find her at the finish line and tell her I told her so.

My sweet chickens, she still needs to reach her
donation goal. She wants to raise $3,000 for the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay and Lesbian Center. She’s half-way there now — would you like to help? 

Can I interest you in a little raffle?

A pair of handknit socks! That I will knit during the week of the ride from the comfort of some nice cushy chair. For YOU, knit by me! In whatever color you like. They’ll be nice, simple socks, the kind I love to make, and they’ll fit you great because they’ll be made with love. (Even if you have dozens of handknit socks that you made yourself, a pair by someone else always feels different. Feels good.)

Every ten dollars buys you a chance, so for $100 you get 10 chances to win, for $50 you get 5 chances. For $5 you might not get a chance at the raffle, but you’ll probably get into heaven. Any amount, small or large, will change lives for the better. And we know as knitters that little things add up: stitches lined up next to each other make a sweater, donations lined up together make a difference in the world.

Lala’s pledge page is here (LOLCAT AND HARRIET WILL MEET YOU THERE – click for cute even if you can’t give). Send me an email at yarnagogo@gmail.com to tell me how many chances to sign you up for (if you’ve already donated, send me a note and I’ll pop you on the list), and we’ll draw a name right before the ride. Then if you win, I’ll knit your socks while Lala rides.

And thanks. Again.  (Also, lala blogged about it, too. That’s probably relevant.)

The blog shall be silent for a little while as Chez Hehu has a big ole sad. Something important was taken away from someone we love (but someone you don’t know, so we won’t go into it), and it makes us very, very sad indeed. One of those life-isn’t-fair moments, and I hate those. It’s enough that it’s true; must life remind us so often? It makes us not want to write very much. It makes us want to write with a Royal We, which we must not allow.

I’m headed south this week to take care of the little mama who’s not feeling too well lately. So I’ll be back in a week or so to say hello and perhaps show you a new sweater. Or not. I’m making it up as I go along and I’m not sure I understood how to do a neck steek. I might be knitting a pillow instead of a cardigan. We’ll see.

What’s shaking?

I’m not doing much besides writing and working. I’m working a lot, 60 hour work week, and I’ve probably put ten hours into writing already, and it’s only Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I’m confused. I’m really into a new project, and I’ve been leaving work, going home, feeding the critters and sitting down to write some more at night. It ends up giving me about twenty minutes of down time, from 8:10 to 8:30pm, but I’m finding when you’re doing what you love, that’s all right.

I’m not quite sure what’s lit this fire recently. But I’m riding the mixed-metaphor wave as far as it’ll take me.

And to amuse you, your weekly dose of animals. We bought Clara a dog bed, since she is now Without Couch. She is too timid to use it much, though. It has been taken over.

And Digit just about killed me with this the other day. He does NOT go on top of the fridge. That’s Adah’s domain. She has her bed up there, and she loves it.

Adah is nonplussed.

I’m at home, for my one day off in nine. I’m having an unofficial pajama day — it wasn’t planned like this, but now my main goal for today is DOING NOTHING I don’t want to do. Except for laundry. I’m out of uniforms, and I’ve got a long week ahead of me.

I’m still under the weather — this has been the flu that keeps on giving. The latest gift it’s brought is a really sore throat, which should be illegal for someone who’s had two tonsillectomies in six years. (I bet most people never have the opportunity or desire to pluralize tonsillectomy.)

I dreamed last night we added two giraffes to our menagerie. They were sweet and loving, and folded themselves up onto our sofas like greyhounds.

Lala’s off cycling — 70 miles today, from Concord to Sunol and back. I can’t even imagine. My butt would fall right off, I’m sure of it. So now I’m NOT going to do anything physical — I’m going to pry myself off the computer and go knit in front of the television. A peaceful day.

I can smell things! Just a little, but it IS coming back, o joy. My house does not smell unclean, I am happy to report. Feliway is working SO well.

I am tired. Worked today for the first time in two weeks following this flu from hell. Up at four in the morning, rather than waking naturally. Home by seven pm. Tried to write, couldn’t. Too stupid tonight. Instead, I had pasta that I made a few days ago (but first smelled today, and it was GOOD), and now I’m going to bed. At 8:24pm. Life in the fast lane.

A sneak preview of the sweater I’m working on now:

It’s a pattern I’m copying from a Norwegian sweater my mother had made for her in Norway in the 60s. So far so good. It’s really unnerving, though, to look down on my couch and see a disembodied sleeve lying there, a replica of the sleeves that have always been attached to the sweater that my mother has worn for the thirty-five years I’ve known her. It’s like the sweater broke.

To bed. I wish you a good night.