Yup - Knitting

A stranded cowl...


A leafy shrug..


A stripey weekend v-neck...


A dress for spring...


The thickest, warmest sweater I'll ever wear...



Oh - and some origami too.

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

***

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Moments of absolute contentment

I didn't even know this was possible, and yet there it was.

On Sunday, January 10, 2010, the Physicist and I were driving back to IL after a day's adventure in Madison, WI. There was lunch at a great veg cafe, sub-zero walking along State Street, tentative steps out onto the frozen lake, shopping at Willy Street Co-Op and thawing out at the Olbrich Botanical Garden conservatory.

We were making our way back - I was knitting and listening to Zoe Keating - there were wide expanses of white glistening snow and the sky was that perfect winter blue.

I couldn't help but feel perfectly content, not just in an instant, but in that expended way that allows it to deepen and take root throughout your whole self.

There was nothing I needed, nowhere else I wanted to be.

I've had glimpses of that, but never an extended time - my distractible nature makes sure of that.

But not this time - this time I got an hour or so.

The spell was broken when thoughts of packing and planes got in the way, but I look forward to welcoming more of these moments into my life.

2009 Christmas

I have just not been in a blogging mood lately. Mostly, I've been knitting gifts and watching NetFlix on the laptop.

But tonight, I came back from Lorain with my boxes of Christmas cheer and decorated for the holiday season.

As usual, my feather tree takes center stage. After years of trying live trees, pink trees, and no trees - the sparse, quirky feather tree has simply won my heart (plus no sap or spiders to fight off).


A sampling of some of my favorite ornaments - most from late 70s or early 80s craft fairs.

I updated the knitting basket with my own yarn leftovers... (and how much do I love the calico sailing Santa in the background).


I remember the year I begged my parents for this ornament from Mrs. Claus' Closet - they used pantyhose to make the cookies - which is kind of gross, but endearing. Check it out, the peanut butter has embroidery criss-crosses - brilliant.



Ah yes, cardinal - with blue-painted beans for eggs.


I love love love this ornament. It's German and had a thin piece of balsa that went over the Claus' with a minute mistletoe hanging down. Years in the attic - and an over-zealous me - left it cracked and in the "Broken Ornament" box - so I had to save it.


My newest accessions - made at a party last year and inspired by Victorian ornaments we made years ago when I was working at the Historical Society.

A proper French Bulldog Angel. I feel her name must be Manon.


...and the two angel geese who helped me decorate. Just surreal enough to help me get through the sugar-shock of the season.

More Mid-winter knitting

Like the rest of Northeast Ohio, I was buried under 5 feet of snow for (what felt like) eons.

So what did I do?

I knit.

Ysolda's Gretel. Made for my mother who requested a fetching hat that would cover her ears.



I love this pattern - the trellis cabling is achingly sweet.



I started this 2 weeks ago and finished it in the car on the way back from the Akron Art museum this past Sunday. Go see the Edward Weston exhibit - you won't regret it.



So sweet! (Even without make-up...)


This sweater is actually what I've been working on as the snow drifted. I've no link to the pattern as it was in a free magazine I picked up at River Colors.



It's a good example of tempting fate - it was meant to be made with a different size yarn and needle - and the yarn I chose was limited as it was a destash purchase with no hope of getting anymore than the 5 or 6 skeins I had. So I squinted my eyes and hoped very, very hard that it would fit.



It seems to have worked.

Toffee with Fluer de Sel

So my delightfully cozy Friday night plans were thwarted by the beginnings of bronchitis (for me) and a nasty cold (for a friend).

I decided to laze about, reading copies of Martha Stewart that a friend gave me and, much to my delight, I found that her December issue had a chapter on candy.

I love the chemistry of candy-making, although I'm still quite the novice.

I found this recipe and realized that I had everything needed to make it.

So I got up, put on a Drs. face mask and apron and got to work!

The first step is to make Napalm of the listed ingredients: 300 degree Fahrenheit(!)
I kept worrying it would spill over... but luckily, it did not.



Poured onto a jellyroll pan lined with parchment paper and sprinkled with white and black sea salt.



Delicious bits of buttery, sugary, salty goodness.



To share. (Hence the Drs. mask... no one wants bronchitis in their candy)

Finally!

Hello my name is Sarah and I can never find boots that fit.

Thanks to a magical combination of genetics and lifelong activity I have enormous, muscley calves and a healthy cankle situation.

I've tried them all... J.Crew, Fitzwell, Naturalizer - you name the special boot and I've at least ordered it once (if not twice) and returned it.

I had one magical pair from Payless c. 1999 - but they look straight outta the wardrobe of Friends when Monica was making mousse out of Mocolate.

I have another pair that could use a stretch and another that's too stretchy and falls down when I walk 10 feet at a good clip.

This summer I discovered Duo Boots - a company out of the UK that offers boots that have various size and shaft combinations (tee hee - I could use that same phrase in such a different context, but it's just too easy).

Anyhoo - I'm happy to report that my calf size is somewhere in the middle (I blame my Brit ancestry for the situation now) and I have my choice of all available options.

At the time, the pound to dollar was somewhere around 1.83 and I wasn't about to pay $300 for boots that are worth 120 pounds... so I waited and watched.
And watched.
And waited.

Today it was 1.46 and I went for it - it may go lower (and if it does go to 1.25 I will be getting another pair).

Behold, the magical boot... being whisked my way across the ocean blue to be worn with skirts and dresses all winter long.

*sigh....*

Next up... the Metz.. or maybe the Potenza... or the Samara...?

Early Winter Knitting

Winter is here and I can't seem to stop knitting.

I'm finally getting pretty good at trickier, nitzier things and projects are fitting closer to size (instead of 2x bigger - gah!)

***

My Nerdy-nerd Sweater Vest - in which I learn that I have a love/hate relationship with color work.



Me wearing the Nerdy-nerd Sweater Vest - in which I learn that I need to clean my mirror.



Monster pants for a baby butt - in which I learn that I love making things for the wee charming man named Lance.

Wanted: One life returned to normal

Every since the beginning the March, things have felt tumultuous.

Not in the big, bad life changing way, but in the little-things-add-up-over-time way.
Two big government grants in early March followed by the Film Fest being a week early.
Then the snow storm and the car inaccessible for 5 days.
And the 2 nights in a hotel that cost almost as much as a months' rent.
Followed by the week of horrendous sick and the malaise and feelings of depression that came with it.
And then I found out the company I'm working with to get my debt in order took March dollars and dispersed them in February, leaving a March payment undpaid and sending mean letters to my mailbox.
This also meant I had to shell out more cash - something I'm in short supply of.
My gas bill was HUGE because my place is drafty and old (which is also why I love it) and I couldn't put it off any longer and the icing (literally) is that my furnace appears to have stopped working and those I would ask to fix it appear to be out of town.

But I don't know that. So I feel out of control.
And I don't like to feel out of control.
Whether it be my health or my heat, I want to know that things will continue to work reasonably well and when they don't - that I have the tools to fix it right at hand.

But a headcold and a hard-to-reach furnace add up to one thing: WAIT.

So I wait and hope that in June, I'll barely remember the concerns that currently fill my days.

Casualties of Fluchitis: Day 6

"The terse yet unsteady demeanor, the puffy discolored glare, the quivering lines of fever and chills, only highlight the despair and isolation of the “grippe” patient, the oppression, the weakness, the malaise, the lack of air, the stupor, the hopelessness."
Reference.

Casualties of Fluchitis: Day 6 - DRY

Despite drinking oodles water and juice
Despite the humidifiers and baths
Despite the fact that I'm supposed to be 70% water
There is a 20 lb ball of dessicated phlegm where my heart should be

Casualties of Fluchitis: Day 5 - Fresh New Hell

I realize something like this has more umph when days 1-4 have been recorded, but if you’ve had fluchitis, or know someone stricken, you understand the absolute lack of energy and available umph for anything but general malaise.

let's count the fallen, shall we:
5 days of work.
1 sense of accomplishment.
2 12+ hour long stretches of time to sleep.
1 sleepless night.
2 boxes of tissues.
3 tubes of orange juice concentrate.
2 pineapples.
2 quarts strawberries.
2 pints blueberries.
2 many gallons of water to count.
1 sense of optimism that spring (the weather, not the concept) will come my way and bring with it CLEAR AIR PASSAGES.
2 bags gummi worms (don't ask).
1 bottle generic cough & cold (How can something be both a cough suppressant and an expectorant?)
1 box Alka Seltzer Cold Plus.
1 can of Lysol.
1 tube of Airborne, purchased pre-lawsuit.
Countless brain, skin, nose, throat and lung cells (seriously, I miss you all).
1 friendship (possibly 2, I get REALLY cranky and manic when I'm sick this long).
3 days with my family - not exposing mom and dad to this monstrosity, I don't care how dead Jeebus was and how not dead he became after a nap in a cave. Peeps or no peeps, I'm staying home.
2.5-year long streak of not having a cold.
1 over-used phrase, "I never get sick."

urban adventure

I'm a bit chagrined to say that I JUST experienced the free E-Line Trolley downtown. It's a nice little circulator - hunter green with wooden slat seats - v. stylish and of an early 20th century vintage.



I find that I experience unfounded anxiety around things related to any transportation that isn't walking. It's gotten better, but for months I've been avoiding the Trolley out of some unidentifiable fear that I would end up...what...?

In Indiana?
In a Turkish prison?
In a 4th dimension where my cell phone doesn't work and the bus driver can't communicate through usual means?

No clue what my problem is, but I steeled my apparently fragile nerves and
*waited at the stop (worried that it wasn't the RIGHT stop)
*got on the bus (worried that it wasn't free and if it wasn't would I have the right change? could I get to it quickly?)
*rode the bus with much trepidation about WHERE I was supposed to get off and WHEN (or IF) I should pull the Stop Request line when the destination was in sight... keep in mind that the length of city I was crossing is one I regularly walk when it isn't an icy tundra, so even if I did get off at the wrong stop, I could easily remedy it by WALKING)
*exited the bus and felt like I CLIMBED MT. EVEREST

What's ironic is that I can do NYC subway, Chicago L, no problem.

I gotta do this more often, the city is not that big and I need to learn to ride the bus without fear of ending up in the imaginary wormhole of fear and helplessness that I conjured up for myself...

well, that was a bit premature

UPDATE: Car in valet, day 5.
I missed the festival last evening to wait for the grants.gov website to acknowledge my submission, so I got caught a ride out and back in to work today.
Get my car tonight -
Lucky pampered car.
5 days and 4 nights at the Ritz.

****
turns out I was done with winter, but Cleveland wasn't.

I just spent about 60 hours in Tower City.

Friday a.m. I went to Tower City to work the Film Fest.
On a whim, I packed a bag with some extra clothes and necessary things, since it was all doom and gloom about the storm.
I guess they weren't lying.
I valeted at the attached hotel, and worked my 13 hour shift.
I stayed there that night, only to be told that it was going to get worse the next night...
so I worked a 14 hour shift and stayed again.

i called a neighbor, and he said the street was horrible, a bus stuck and cars snowed in along the curb -

i was lucky enough to get a ride home after a shorter day (only 11 hours - woo hoo!)
and left my car - again - at the hotel.

but the Film Fest is going great - 3,000 people yesterday (amazing!)

let's hope i can get (and park) my car tomorrow evening -
here's to warm melting thoughts.

done done done

NO MORE WINTER.
I'm finished.
Done.
Exasperated.
One more goddamned snowflake and I will
LOSE IT.

I want to banish wool coats.
Burn my gloves.
Eviscerate my car scraper.

I want to incarcerate my shovel.
Crucify my earmuffs.
Toss my boots in a THAWED SEA.

St. Valentine

Happy Valentines Day!
May you find glee in pink hearts, chocolate, childhood sweethearts, kindred spirits and pillow fights.

I think today belongs to one of my favorites things: awkward teenage love.
Meg Murray and Calvin O'Keefe
Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe
Charlotte "Chuck" Charles and The Piemaker
Lyra Belacqua and Will Parry
Torrance Shipman and Cliff Pantone (the toothbrushing scene...? adorable! awkward! swoon!)


I know I'm supposed to be all dark and stormy and cranky about today, but the further I get from 20-something angst, the more I revel in the innocent warmth of adolescent crushes and precocious smitten-ness.

Resolved

As you can tell, I'm a few weeks behind the curve with the holidays.
So here I am on January 13, making resolutions...

I don't normally make resolutions, since I usually don't keep them, so perhaps this process of waiting a few weeks is a healthy one, as I'm resolving to continue to do things I've already started doing anyway.

Here goes nothing.
Resolved. In 2008, I will...
*not feel obligated to always answer my phone.
*continue to attend my modern dance class and not use the Film Fest as an excuse to get out of habit (although I will likely skip a class for the festival).
*continue to get out debt (I have no choice, I'm on a plan).
*continue to attend UU services when in town on weekends.
*continue to try new - challenging - knitting projects.
*seriously consider keeping my internal monologue INTERNAL.
*make my way down jenky-ass, tore up Euclid to attend a lunch-time Pilates class at the gym that's now near impossible to get to.
*change my oil when I'm supposed to, not 3-6 months later.

So there's a few things....

Fingers crossed.

Pink Christmas

Christmas is put away, but I realized that I never posted a pic of the pink tree...





back to cold and dreary...

I miss the pink glow a bit.

Filthy Christmas Icons

I was putting away my Christmas decorations:
trees, ornaments, stockings...
and I kept hearing these ungodly noises...

and what to my wondering eyes do appear?
an elf and cookie, engaged in flagrante delicato.

the elf is half in the bag from what seems to be a cosmo? a negroni?


the gingerbread really seems to be enjoying himself.

Santa battles bad modern dance

a more intriguing cleveland

since losing Sage last year, I've been adrift in a sea of unsatisfying watering holes.

but in the past month, I've reintroduced myself to places dark, posh and reveling in their own decadent delights. It's mostly in search of those who supply Hendrick's Gin, and I find that if the gin is there, it's a good indicator that I'll be happy to settle in and stay until the fire dies down or the pianist tires out.