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I know there are those of you who don’t watch much TV. Or any at all. Good on you, and I mean that. But this post is not for you. (I used to be you. I am now,however, an unashamed Big Ole TV watcher.) (Okay, untrue. I am a little ashamed. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.)

Okay, here’s where I’m going. Reality TV can suck, big time. You know the kind I mean: Let’s put three people in a house and take bets on who sleeps with whom first. That’s just wrong, and I wouldn’t watch it. Or at least I would NEVER admit that I did. I can’t handle Nick and Jessica (although I’ve tried). And those Road Rules shows don’t seem like reality TV, they just seem like an MTV game show with flashing lights and bitchy women in thongs, something I can live comfortably without.

But how in the name of all that’s holy did I end up watching any reality TV at all? Dude, don’t erase Amazing Race off my TiVo, or I’ll sic my drool-cat on you. (Schmirna’s fake accent that would pop up whenever she spoke to someone in a taxicab was driving me CRAZY. “Okee, I geev you dohlars for to use your telephone, okaaaie, Habibbi?” WTF?)

What’s bothering me the most, however, is that I’m watching what I would have guessed would be the nadir of all television programming: Amish in the City. And I don’t hate it. I’m a bit emotionally invested, if the truth is told (I’m really trying here). When Mose almost drowned because he didn’t understand the strength of the ocean, I was all a’flutter. When Miriam’s best friend came for a visit, I thought, a-HA. I was right! She IS a lesbian. (Don’t tell me you didn’t think it. Those were some damn emotional hugs.)

I just can’t quite believe they put five Amish kids and six LA kids in a house in Beverly Hills, but they did, by golly. Now that’s the way to get your rumspringa on (a word I’ve always loved. I’m 32 and still in my non-Amish based personal rumspringa.)

I felt a little better when I read this article — it makes the series sound deeply thoughtful, a “new generation of constructive, literate reality TV shows.” Well. I don’t know about all that. I think it’s not the ultimate trash that it should have been.

But I’m still embarrassed. What about you? ‘Fess up.

Bethany just woke me up by calling me while I was sleeping. Christy’s been starting to do that lately, too. Mom always has, and for some reason the fact that she does never tripped me out, it just was. Thing is, y’see, is that I sleep with the ringer off. I have voice mail, too, so the phone makes no click, no sound whatsoever when it rings or takes a message. There’s a small light that blinks, but I sleep with earplugs and an eye mask, so that ain’t it. And other people never wake me by calling. I can have four messages on my machine, but the last timestamp will show that Mom was the last one to call me, silently, at the exact minute my eyes opened. Can’t explain it. Won’t try. Just is.

I’m using my WIRELESS on my COUCH with Digit draped across like a heavy, slightly stinky blanket. And oh, he just drooled on my stomach. Ew. (This is how I knew Adah was meant to come home with me from the shelter: I had gone there to get a kitten to keep Digit company. She was all grown up, and I thought I would just pet her for a minute and then walk on. She drooled all over my lap, and I was sunk. We’re a happy drooly family. The worst, however, is when she sneezes because she’s so drooly. Spit sprays in a fine, fast mist. Deesgusting, at any time, but especially so when you’re sleeping. Thank god for that eye mask.)

I went swimming yesterday. Can we please continue to call it swimming? I HATE the phrase aqua-jogging, and I hate the action even more. Hate. I hate relatively few things in this life (war, unkindness, famine, chicken liver, and ants), but aqua-jogging is right up there on that list. I think this is my biggest sacrifice to running. The pain I can tolerate. The impending lost toenails aren’t really bothering me. The sweat and time, eh. Bring it. But this STUPID treading water thing? You can have it. I’ve never done an activity that I hated so much, so actively. My shin splints are still pretty bad, so I made myself a solemn vow that I would not run this week, even though I really need the maintenance training. And I vowed that I would make up that training, in some other related way.

The only other thing that would come close to substituting for running is the elliptical machine, and I tried that at work the other night before shift. It didn’t hurt to use the machine, but when I got off the shin splints had flared so badly I had to hobble up the stairs to the Communications Center. Someone later told me, when I was complaining about how the elliptical machine was supposed to be low-impact, that “oh, YOU shouldn’t use that! It simulates running!” Well, duh. Thanks for that.

So I’m left with treading water. Really fast. Wearing a foam belt. Listening to the Italian foreign exchange students try to pick up the mothers teaching their tots to swim in the shallow end (actually, that’s pretty amusing. I don’t mind that).

And actually, if I’m to avoid the gaggle of kids who arrive for free swim at about four o’clock, I should wiggle into my suit right now and get to treading. Bleah. And then? I’ll knit, while blog-surfing from my COUCH! Have I mentioned how much I love wireless? Hoo yeah.

Just for fun, here’s a kid that can swim near me anytime: Winter with dad Jason up in the hills above their house on Monday.

I’m hot. I’m having major temperature control issues. As in, my own. I think it’s a testament to my high metabolism (the reason that I can eat so MUCH ice cream) that I’m not two hundred pounds overweight, but if I have hot flashes like this, I can’t imagine what I’ll be like in twenty years. Whew. I think it’s warm outside, but it’s like seventy-three degrees. If that.

I had the best, best day yesterday. First, I drove up into the depths of Marin Country, out to Nicasio, near San Geronimo (both really good names). My darlin’ friend Monica lives far, far out this rural road that goes pretty much straight up (the coffee cup actually fell backwards out of the cup holder, such was the angle of the car) and then straight down into a silent wooded valley. Her husband Jason came home for lunch, and we rode the ATV up an old fire trail to the top of a great hill. From there, we had a clear view, all the way around—we could see just the tip-tops of the tallest buildings in San Francisco poking up over a far-off hill, and we could see the bay, and the Richmond/Bay/Golden Gate bridges. To the other side was Lake Nicasio and then nothing but the golden, rolling hills of California (the best Kate Wolf line ever). We were on top of the very world. And what a world!

Then, back down to Oakland where I met dear reader Jude. She’s one of those people with whom I made an instant connection, even though she doesn’t blog. We bonded in email over Tom Russell and John Hiatt and Slaid Cleaves, and she showed up at my door yesterday for a late lunch. This blogging thing is remarkable. That I can make friends with such a warm, loving, funny woman just because of the internet? Amazing.

I’m all superlatives and no specifics today. Well, I’m sleepy. The last part of my day was spent with the gal I’ve got a crush on (sorry, but “on whom I have a crush” just doesn’t sound right). I won’t even go into superlatives here, because I’ll embarrass her (and probably myself), but I’ll leave it this: The Triplets of Belleville is a gorgeous movie. And Eritrean food is really good.

Today, I’ve got knitting to finish. I’m on deadline for the Secret Project—I can’t wait to be able to tell you what I did! And Monica is going to have a baby girl probably right NOW, so the sweater has to be finished, and quick. And the Guy Scarf has to be done in the next two weeks, too. Cromarty, which is a commission piece, should get wrapped up soon, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a crunch of deadlined knitted items, but it’s kinda fun and challenging. And what’ll be even better is having NO items to have to do. Christmas this year will be storebought, I can feel it already. I wanna knit for me. Me, me, me. And then for me after that.

All right, I’m off to try to install a wireless router. Have no clue how to do it, so I thought I’d post BEFORE I attempt more computer futzing. Wish me virtual wireless luck.

And one more thing: John and Alan of Portland are going to Rome—anyone know any yarn stores in or about Rome? Any help is appreciated….

***Added an hour later — I’m on my swing in my backyard, connected to the internet. I don’t know why I never did this before. Oh my god. I’m in love with the internet, all over again…..

I’m so not blogging tomorrow. Two on the weekend? About knitting? Back the heck up. I got a couple of requests for the pattern I’m using for the scarf, so I wrote it up. I haven’t actually finished the scarf yet, and my eyes are crossing trying to write the pattern, so excuse the errata, please (and let me know about any problem spots). And if you DO make one, send me a pic, huh?

The Clever Name Here Scarf:

Yarn: I’m using worsted weight, Rowan Cork, probably about 400 yds, more or less.
Needles: 7US, but remember I’m LOOSE (cough, cough). You might go 8 or 9US.
Gauge: Eh, whatever. It’s a scarf.

Cast on 33 stitches.
R1 (right side) : k1 p1, across.
R2-4: k1 p1, across.
R5: (k1 p1) 3 times, k4, p2, k9, p2, k4, (p1 k1) 3 times.
R6: (k1 p1) 3 times, k1, p3, k2, p9, k2, p3, k1, (p1 k1), 3 times.
R7: Repeat R5

R8 and all following wrong side rows: (k1 p1) 3 times, k1, p3, k2, p9, k2, p3, k1, (p1 k1), 3 times.
R9: (k1 p1) 3 times, k4, p2, put the first 3 sts on cable needle, hold at front, k the next 3 sts, then k the 3 sts from cable needle, k3, p2, k4, (p1 k1) 3 times.
R11: (k1 p1) 3 times, k4, p2, k9, p2, k4, (p1 k1) 3 times.
R13: (k1 p1) 3 times, k4, p2, k3, put the first 3 sts on cable needle and hold at back, k the next 3 sts, then k the 3 sts from cable needle, p2, k4, (p1 k1) 3 times.
R15: Repeat R11.

Repeat rows 8-15 until you’re happy with the length. If it won’t go around your neck once, it might be too short. If you could ride a horse and rope a steer with it, it might be too long. Otherwise, you’re good to go. End with 4 rows of k1 p1 across, bind off. Add fringe if you’re that fancy.

Suggestion number one: This would be a good way to learn how to cable. It’s easy. Swear.
Suggestion number two: Try cabling without a needle (the fastest way to go). Wendy, of course, has the best instructions HERE.

Enjoy!

Well, let’s just call this the Monday post, eh? I’ve overbooked myself for Monday anyway…. Why do I DO that? It’s not like I think the day will get any longer. I just like to say yes to things. Yes! Sure! That would be fun! Oh, whoops. Did it again. Two lunches scheduled. But one friend might have a baby on Monday. Yep. I might yet get away with my flagrant overbooking. Just call me Southwest.

What I checked in to say was this:

GINNY’S BACK! She was my first online friend, way back, probably about two years ago. She was the first person to link to me, and I felt like such a superstar because of it. Go tell her hello and welcome her back to the fold.

And this. Wait, better get a helmet or something. There is actually knitting content ahead. (Have you noticed how I seem to have given up blogging about knitting on any regular basis? Thank god the only knit-ring I’m part of is QueerKnit and Amy won’t chuck me out. I don’t think.)

I’ve been deep into a Secret Project that involves a lot of mohair. Hey. Maybe THAT’S why my throat hurts. Little tiny bits o’fluff. But I can show you this non-secret project.

It’s a Guy Scarf. I can’t stand knitting scarves on a normal basis. I don’t wear them much, and I have all I need for when I do. And they’re BORING to make. But this one is keeping me happy. Simple little pattern that I made up as I went along – don’t have to think about it, but it’s interesting knitting, the kind where you glance down to see what you’re doing and your fingers flip from k1p1 to k9 without thinking (typo: tinking. Without that either). It’s going to be a gift for the lovely man who sold Mom and me our Strawberry tickets. He wanted a scarf in burgundy. I think I now know that I’m not really sure I know what burgundy is. This might be maroon. Is there a difference? But I like it. Actually, I kinda want to keep it. That’s always a good sign. (Using Rowan Cork from Article Pract. Ooooh. Love this stuff. Light and smooshy, but soft.)

Digit is perched on one wrist. My wrist, I mean. That’s fifteen pounds that must be lifted to type. Good thing my wrists are strong. He likes the scarf, too:

We have a six-mile run tomorrow, but I think the splints are just too bad. Going to skip the run, and I’m not going to feel badly about it (she said determinedly). I need to heal a bit this week.

I have NO plans for this evening. I’m going to sit and knit. Maybe have a beer or two. A friend said he’d call to go play, but I might blow him off. (That preposition is a really important one, innit?) I think a night of lying low might be good for me. I’m fighting a sore throat, and I’m just tired. A good, foggy night to stay in with kitties and books and yarn.

Speaking of kitties, check out this belly:

That, right there, is my ultimate sleep goal.

And MORE thanks go to:

Ann — you are so cute.
Sonja — hooray!
Stephannie R — yay!
Carolyn — yippee!
Juliette — Wow! You rock!

‘Course I ain’t running today. I swear. I promise. (Somebody tie me to the couch….)

Happy, happy weekend, all.