Late, but still thankful

At the very last minute, we canceled our reservation for Thanksgiving dinner at The Plumed Horse. It was kind of a bummer, but the four of us decided that it was necessary to do.

Shortly after I canceled our reservation, I ran into Cynthia and Colleen at the chiropractor. When Colleen asked what we were doing for the holiday, I said, "Probably sitting around the house in my underpants eating ice cream."

[Just an FYI, that is the definition of a GREAT day.]

Colleen didn't like the sound of that, and invited us to her house to join her family for Thanksgiving. I pointed out that the four of us would be an imposition, a TERRIBLE imposition, but she insisted that it wouldn't be a problem. Later that night, Colleen called and let me know that the dogs were invited to Thanksgiving, too. (She insisted on this point.)

We had a great time. Mom and I helped Colleen in the kitchen, and I got to torment The Snackary with reminders on appropriate behavior in a kitchen. (I made him call his mom "Chef", and afford her all of the courtesies of that position. It was super-fun.) The dogs got to work the room, and came home EXHAUSTED.

We discussed politics and religion, we ate loads of food, drank wine, and no blood was shed. A great time was had.

Mom pointed out, on the car ride home, that we hadn't talked about what we're thankful for. So, here I go:

I am thankful. I am thankful for my stash, which has gotten me through layoffs, the dot-com bust, and the currently depressed economy. I am also thankful for (what Andrew calls) my "equipment fetish" for the same reason. I always have the right tools for the job.

I am thankful for my mother, who always supports my harebrained schemes because she believes that I am capable of doing great, huge, awesome things. I am also thankful for Sam, who is always quick to point out holes in my plots, or conflicts of ideals. He is no "yes-man", and that's valuable, even if it's obnoxious.

I am thankful for my dogs, who remind me daily that being silly is good for the soul, that there is always time for snuggling, and that honking toys are FAR superior to squeaky toys. I am thankful for joy and comfort they bring me. I am also thankful that they have little interest in yarn or wool- with the exception of the Tess Yarns Microfiber Ribbon. (The dogs have impeccable taste.)

I am thankful for Andrew. I have come to the realization that I have impossibly high standards for spousal behavior, and ladies, he's mine. You can keep your Woolophobic boyfriends and husbands who resent your stash and sneer at your handknits. Andrew makes a big deal about my knitting and spinning, and it's the type of attention this handwork deserves.

I am thankful for Andrew because when the chips are down, we stand together. We work together. We don't have to spend every minute together. It's the way I think a relationship should be. Also, it's pretty snazzy that he can reach things on the highest shelves.

I am thankful for the people who read this blog, and listen to our podcast. Kindness and humor go a long way.

Lastly, I am thankful for my friends. To the people who know when I am a few stitches short of a row, and have the grace to remind me to breathe. The friends who defend my parenting when I feel like a complete failure as a dog-mom. The friends who insist I go out when I'm doing my best impression of a mollusk.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

(Oh yeah, and if you're here for knitting, I've got some wicked knitting content coming soon.)

The indignities of aging

Last week I went for my annual appointment with the optometrist. (Let's call him Dr. O. He doesn't get a cute nickname like Dr. B.) If you didn't know, I wear corrective lenses. I got my first pair of glasses when I was 12 (for reading), and then in 2006, I was switched to contact lenses (because I had to wear corrective lenses all the time).

On Friday, Dr. O announced that my coverage included regular contacts (or glasses), and a pair of "computer glasses".

"What are computer glasses? Like, I wear them when I'm at the computer?" I asked.

"Yes," Dr. O said. Helpful, right?

"Over my regular contacts?" I ask, not believing what I'm hearing.

"Yes."

So, in order to reduce eyestrain, I have to wear glasses over my contacts. It makes me feel about 80000 years old.

But, I got cute Tina Fey frames. So hey, not so bad.

Twilight

After I landed at LAX, Ally and I headed over to the Howard Hughes theater at the Bridge to go and see Twilight.

I had read about half of the book beforehand. (The only reason that I didn't finish it on the flight down was because I ended up sitting next to some friends on the plane - unexpectedly - and catching up with them.) I had an idea of what to expect, so, there's that.

We had tickets to the "Over 21 only" show, in the Director's theater. Leather seats, waiters taking drink orders beforehand, assigned seating, and no teen fangirls.

It was the best moviegoing experience I have ever had. Maybe it was the extra-strength Bloody Mary, but wow. Courteous patrons, comfortable seats, and no ill-behaved teens. (If there are any teens reading, it's no slight against your demographic, it's just that as an adult, it's not fun listening to shrieking, unsupervised teens. Sorry.)

The movie? Delightfully dreadful. The actors were so good-looking that you almost forget that it's not that well-done.

Almost.

A FO? Me?

I finished Sandi's mesh back sweater last week:

(Picture shamelessly stolen from the Purlescence Blog.)

You should be able to purchase it here, soon.

See? Now and then I actually do some knitting.

In which I find a fart less funny

Friday, Chloe graciously drove me to the airport to head out for my Nerd-tastic birthday extravaganza in Los Angeles. Since I hadn't had time to edit the audio for the podcast (which you should listen to, since it's the one with the Yarn Harlot), I took my laptop with me.

While I waited for my plane to board, I tweaked audio. This guy walks up, sits next to me, releases a nuclear fart, and walks away.

Ew.

Excersize, discipline, affection

Yesterday was a great day. Mostly.

Got some stuff done at work, ducked out to go to an appointment with Dr. B, followed by a trip to visit Suzy to get my roots re-pinked before my awesome trip to LA. When I was walking from my car to my first appointment, I have to say, the warm sun on my skin felt AMAZING. I can almost see the appeal of tanning. And photosynthesis.

So, I'm supposed to get back into doing yoga regularly, and bring some of the practices into my regular life. This is a good idea, and clearly, too obvious for me to realize on my own.

When I got home from getting re-pinked, I sat down to get back to work. I worked into the late hours of the night, putting out fires. Just after eleven, Niki begins to complain. He doesn't speak when he complains, but he makes this complaining noise that sounds like he's lecturing us.

(Imagine the tonal patterns that go with this lecture, "Do you know what time it is? It is time to go to bed. But YOU are still sitting there in front of that infernal machine." That's what he does. I call him a curmudgeonly old man. I'll try and record it next time.)

By the time we finally got to bed, I had two very tired dogs sprawled on the bed, demanding affection. There was some snuggling, and the obligatory, "Stop biting your sister. Stop biting your brother." That was all over once they heard the melodic sound of kibble being put in their dishes.

Oh, and if you listen to the podcast this week, we're finally airing our chat with Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. It should go live Sunday morning. (All thanks to Sheetal, who found a geek-tastic article on how to make Audacity ACTUALLY work.)

A FO and mo'

So, last night I finished the knitting on the Sandi Sweater. Tomorrow, I drop it off at Purlescence for some gentle blocking and seaming. Woo!

My carrot to finish the Sandi Sweater was the Chloe-made-me-buy-it Pink Cashmere Sweater (CMMBIPCS for short). But, when I finished the knitting, the hour was late, and I am (as we all know) an incredibly fickle knitter.

Candy brought her completed Abby to Saturday Knitting. (By the way, Candy, there are no completed pictures of it on your Ravelry page. Ahem.) I remembered seeing Amy work on it on the cruise, and I loved it then. After seeing Candy's I knew I had the PERFECT yarn for it.

I've mentioned before that half-price cashmere is my weakness. Well, half-price silk falls into that same category of Jasmin 2008/Social Pressure Experiment Kryptonite. (That's right nemeses, now you know my weakness. As an aside, I wonder how a nemesis would use that weakness against me.)

The last time Purlescence had a giant half-off table, I pillaged and bought all the cashmere and 90% of the sale silk. In the haul, I had a cheerful pink silk. It 's the Artfibers Regal Silk- which is a single, and I thought, "This would look great as the Abby."

I cast it on an hour ago, and I've done the first repeat (of eleven). I've been telling Mom that cowls are the new black. I think this might be love.

My faaaaaaaaavorite thing

(Just imagine Meghan from Stitch-it saying the title.)

This time of year is a great time for me. Mostly, because marzipan is widely available. On Saturday, Colleen brought me an obscene amount of marzipan. Marzipan potatoes, marzipan fruit, and even a marzipan pig, which I used to love as a small child. (I still love it, I just haven't seen one in years.)

I go through phases where I don't like chocolate, or I'm not in the mood for ice cream. I have never been in a "no marzipan" place. In fact, it's one of those things where (if I'm not careful) I will devour huge quantities in small amounts of time.

(I maintain that it HAS to be good for me. It's made of almonds; almonds have loads of protein.)

Friday, sweet Friday

There has been some knitting. There has been some spinning. Oh, and I've had some serious IT problems.

Relax, it's my work machine, not my personal machine, but seriously. Today has been ultra-long because my Tuesday and Wednesday were eaten by a MASSIVE hard drive failure. (Also, it's apparent that automatic backups are kind of awesome. I thought it was annoying to have it pop up once a week, but the auto-backups saved my life.)

Once the Work Machine got his new hard drive, I booted him back up, launched Firefox, and...

Nothing.

No bookmarks. 90% of my job is based on having my bookmarks. (In case you're curious, the last 10% is comprised of meetings. I spend more than 10% of my time in meetings, but guess what? I need BOOKMARKS for them.)

Because I am a dinosaur, I didn't have them saved in any sort of bookmark-saving place online. I sauntered back to IT and of course, the day my hard drive decides to go the way of the dodo bird, I am not wearing makeup. I AM, however, wearing a "comfort" sweatshirt (read "oversized and ugly"). This is not a good thing, as makeup and nice clothes seem to expedite all of my service-oriented needs.

(Yes, I know that using my looks to get things done oppresses all women in the long run. But I also use my charm, and since I determined with Dr. B that I'm oppressed anyway, I may as well "shake what my mama gave me". Good looking men work it, too. Yay, feminism!)

Anyway, Mr. IT takes remote control of my computer looking for the last time my bookmarks were backed up. (By the way, this is INCREDIBLY unnerving, especially if you've seen these two episodes [The Big Game and Revelations] of Criminal Minds. Which I have.) So, he pulls up a list, which are bookmarks from when I started working there. Like, close to two years ago.

He finds another, which is marginally more recent (from 6 months ago), and can't find anything more recent. While he's "driving" my computer, I point out the "Bookmarks Backups" folder ("Maybe they're in here?"). Aha! There is the backup from LAST WEEK. Crisis averted.

Afterward, there was much working. Lots of working. But there is an upside to this.

By using the Picard Maneuver, I managed to escape the clutches of the knitting black hole of the Sandi Sweater. I am closing in on the second sleeve with Michael Phelps-like speed. (If he knit. However, I think I may swim faster than he can knit. Take that!)

I've also started spinning up my Atlantis roving from Crown Mountain. It's pretty. In a manly way. Fetching. Dashing. Whatever. Oh, and I'm closing in on completing sock #2 of the vintage Lisa Souza sock yarn.

I've been invited to go see Quantum of Solace with some old friends, but I'm finding myself wanting to see High School Musical 3 more. (Is it just me or is Zac Efron unnaturally cute? He's no Hugh Jackman, but still.)

Speaking of Hugh Jackman, Emy, you were totally right about Van Helsing. Terrible movie. I disagree about the movie eclipsing his hotness. That's like non-planet Pluto eclipsing the sun. It'll never happen. Hugh's hotness is too great. Like the sun.

(I would LOVE to see him play a werewolf in something better. Like Richard Zeeman in a movie adaptation of the Anita Blake books, before Laurell K. Hamilton turned him into a douchebag and made the books all smutty.)

For the record, I would like to state that I saw Scoop for the Hugh Hotness. The only "scoop" it resembled is the one I use for "panning for gold" in the backyard. But he was still HOT.

In short:

1- Technology is out to get me.
2- Knitting is agreeing with me.
3- Hugh Jackman is awesome, regardless of the horrible movies he is in.

It looks like the perfect movie

Has anyone else seen the ads for "Australia"? Andrew's love of Nicole Kidman, and (what can only be described as) my Hugh Jackman addiction make this seem like it's going to be the PERFECT film. Date night, anyone?

Also, have you noticed all the gratuitous topless shots of Hugh? Wow. (Hubba, hubba even.)

(Just for your reference, I've loved all of his movies- even Kate and Leopold, which was TERRIBLE. It just goes to show that if the eye candy is appealing enough, any movie can be considered "good".)

For your enjoyment, bad entertainment (available on DVD) with excellent eye candy:

Shark Attack (Casper Van Dien)
Tarzan and the Lost City (Casper Van Dien)
Shark Attack 3: Megalodon (John Barrowman, from Torchwood)
Robin Hood (the BBC series- Richard Armitage and Jonas Armstrong)

Awesome, nerd-tastic birthday plans

I have a birthday coming up. Two weeks ago, out of the blue, Sam called me and DEMANDED that I come down to LA for my birthday- and to go to the Firefly/Serenity convention in Burbank with him. After some serious consideration, and weighing my options ...

I'M SO GOING!!!

I'm super-excited. We're also talking about seeing Wicked while I'm down there. Two packed, fun-filled days.

I have a feeling that 26 is going to be a very good year.

Mondays are for nerds

If you've been a long-time reader, or you've read the archives, you know that I find nerds irresistible. I read nerd romance novels, I observe nerds in their natural habitats, and I watch nerd TV.

Yes, nerd TV. It started with Beauty and the Geek (which I watched mostly for the eye candy, since I hated the premise). Then, I discovered Chuck and The Big Bang Theory. Of course, no "hot nerd" discussion is complete without the mention of Dr. Spencer Reid (from Criminal Minds), and the plethora of nerd eye candy from Heroes (keeping one specific, I-always-knew-he-was-just-misunderstood watchmaker in mind).

It's basically all nerd eye candy and nerd humor. Chuck is full of more common nerd pop culture references, where you need to be a hard-core geek to really enjoy the humor in Big Bang Theory. Like, speaking Klingon hard-core. (Qapla!)

So, Mondays are for nerds. The lineup is all there. Chuck, Big Bang Theory, and Heroes. I'm a sucker for a brilliant men in glasses. (Or Sheldon from Big Bang Theory. Apparently, brilliant and arrogant work, too. Does this sound oddly familiar to anyone?) Add socially awkward and that's a trifecta I can't resist.

Now, to get caught up on my nerditude...

Rock stars!

This year I decided to host an impromptu Halloween shindig. We all came dressed as rock stars and played some Rock Band in the front room. The neighborhood kids got a huge kick out of it, and looked who joined us:

(Photo courtesy of Tika!)

Dolores! She took time out of traveling the campaign trail to visit us, and play a few tunes with our band, Fyrewyre. It wasn't as eventful as a night at the Lucky Horseshoe, but she seemed to have a good time.

Despite the rain, we had a good turnout of trick-or-treaters, and I think one of the little boys from across the street invited himself over to play sometime.

I guess that's the sign of a good party, right?

Niki, the snuggle-mutt

When we adopted Niki, he didn't know how to snuggle. I found this incredibly disappointing, since I had this idea of snuggling with our new dog on the couch, like EVERYBODY else does with their dogs.

I'm a problem-solver, so I taught Niki how to snuggle. I kept dog cookies in my pocket, and would get him up on the couch, snuggle him, and periodically give him a treat. After a month or so, Niki would snuggle without need of treat. Smart, right?

Ever since, he's been a snuggling machine- especially if I'm not feeling well. The last two days, I've been on a migraine bender. Thursday night, I laid down on the couch (ice pack on my face, heating pad on my neck), and chilled out.

Niki hops up next to me, and starts walking over me- without stepping on me. I'm objecting loudly (because you don't step on the alpha in your pack EVER), and he curls up on my stomach. To snuggle me. Like a cat. A 45-pound cat.

(I wasn't at risk for any sort of compression asphyxia, he was mostly resting on my hip bones and my stomach. His very decorative tail was on my chest.)

Andrew pointed out that the dogs always stick to me when I'm sick- if I'm in bed, they're on the bed with me (or in the bedroom, keeping an eye).

Maybe I'm not the worst dog-mother in the whole world, after all.

Here is Niki, sunning in the planter:

Something wonderful

My Auntie Desi gave birth to a healthy daughter today. I have a new cousin! (Pictures and details pending!)

Wow, I like to knit!

Last night, I remembered that I like to knit. Before you start assuming that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, just bear with me.

I've been working on a GORGEOUS garment for Sandi, and I'm making good progress on it. However, it's Obligatory Knitting now, and it has a deadline. Whoosh! The slightest utterance that something has become Obligatory Knitting sucks the joy out of knitting like fire sucks air out of a room.

I could metaphorically suffocate in Obligatory Knitting. Thank heavens life isn't a metaphor.

(Or is it?)

While the OKSandi Sweater (OKSS for short) is truly lovely, it is not all-purpose knitting. While the pattern offers elegant simplicity, the piece has gotten too large to carry around, and the rows are staggeringly long. Are-we-there-yet long, even.

When I've finished two of the impossibly long rows (one pattern repeat), I measure the length. Nothing ever changes. It's Black Hole knitting. (This may be why I don't finish sweaters very often. Just maybe.)

Last night we had guests over to watch the election results. There was eating, drinking, and a good time was had by all. So, I worked on my second Mushroom Caps sock, which is knitting that is much better suited for just such an occasion.

I finished MOST of the foot. (Not pictured above, that's the first sock and the humble beginnings of the second sock.) The whole time, all I could think was how much I love knitting with handspun, and how delightfully short each round was. I started planning my next sock, even. (Given my exhausting work schedule, I haven't been planning much knitting, which is the first sign that I'm starting to lose my knitting mojo.)

Now I am hearing the siren song of some merino/seacell that is telling me it wants to be a pair of aran socks.

Once I finish these socks, of course. And the OKSS.

One small person, one giant ballot for mankind!

This morning, Mom and I got up early and went to our local polling place. Once we got checked in, I was handed a RIDICULOUSLY large ballot. Like, one of those giant birthday cards.

Proof:

The sock is 6" long. I would have gotten a better shot of the ballot, but they were watching my pink-haired self pretty closely, and I think they would have yelled at me for standing on a chair. (Some people have no sense of adventure. Really!)

I don't want to be redundant. But, here we go: It's important to vote.

My parents are immigrants in this country. They're both naturalized citizens, and they vote.

I read someone's blog this morning, and I was infuriated because she said that she didn't really believe in the person she voted for, but essentially, he was the lesser of two evils. That is crap. It's the same defeatist garbage that keeps people home on election day, and bitching during the eventual aftermath.

I voted for Obama. Whether or not you agree with my politics, I voted for him because he wants to change things, and I find that refreshing. I voted for him because he's brilliant. I voted for him because when he speaks, he makes me feel proud to be American. (A hyphenated-American, but an American nonetheless.)

I voted for him because I truly believe that if you go into something intending to make a change, then change is inevitable. This is how I've lived my life, and I've done pretty well living with that personal philosophy.

Stand behind your candidate. Tell me why you're voting for the person you're voting for. You have the freedom to disagree with me, and I stand up for your right to disagree. The only thing I demand is that you be proud: the person we elect is going to be our representative to the world.

Alas, humanity is doomed

Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. It turns out that having hot pink hair is awesome 364 days out of the year. On Halloween, I had a doctor's appointment, then went to the grocery store. In street clothes.

I had three separate people asked what I was dressed as. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. No makeup. Nothing special. The first time, I was confused. "I'm dressing as a rock star later... Oooh. No, I always have pink hair." The third time, I was still polite, just annoyed. Next year, I leave the house in my costume.

When I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw a woman come out in a pair of galoshes (wellies?). I've always wanted a pair of galoshes, but the thing that really got me excited was the pair of cabled socks she had decoratively flipped over the top of an otherwise boring pair of shiny black galoshes.

You can understand how I am now on a mission to find the PERFECT pair of shiny black galoshes - and what are galoshes without a shiny rain slicker?

The last time I found a shiny rain slicker was in an Adult store. Silly me, it was just the right length for me (part of a sexy firefighter outfit, in case you were wondering), and I foolishly thought I would be able to find a better version of the same slicker. (Read "better version" as "not purchased from a seedy sex shop".)

So, I've been hunting around on the internet for my "perfect" galoshes. As if I needed more shoes, right?

So far, I've found the following:

Candidate #1:

Fabulous, right? So very pink! Alas, $103.50 seems a little high for a pair of Elle Woods-esque wellies.

Candidate #2:

Right price ($51.99), and while the plaid is pleasant, it's not as versatile as I would like. Alas.

Candidate #3:

Black, shiny(ish), but kind of ugly. And not that special brand of galosh-ugly I'm looking for.

Candidate #4:

Keens! Alas, not the classic galoshes that I dream of, but (so far), the best suited to my tastes and needs. Also, nothing fits quite like a pair of Keens. (If you haven't tried a pair yet, do. They're WONDERFUL. Also, a little weird-looking, but clearly, I like that sort of thing.)

In short, I'll go try on the Keens (at R.E.I., my favorite place for practical footwear), and keep hunting for shiny, perfect galoshes.

(Let me know if you can find them, and where!)

The worst mother EVER

Yesterday was a hard day for Elphie. Without going into too much detail, Elphie had been exhibiting some behavior that necessitated going to The Vet. While historically The Vet hasn't been a stressful place to go (since the first couple of visits), her last trip was to the Emergency Vet. That was pretty gnarly.

Add to that, our favorite vet ever has moved to London. As with any medical/patient situation, the doctor has a relationship with the patient. In the case of our seriously abused little dog, rapport is important, as is the idea of their growth and development. (Elphie still is a little twitchy around strangers, but she's made some exponential growth, developmentally.)

The prognosis was that Elphie needed to be sedated so that they could flush out the afflicted area. Since she doesn't know the new vet, she was not about to let Dr. A administer ANYTHING. Add to that, Elphie isn't treat motivated, and is wicked smart. So, we decided to give her a sedative first (which doesn't require hunting for a vein, then injecting, which is a time-consuming venture), let her calm down, then I would restrain her, again, to get the sedative shot into the vein.

Elphie makes TERRIBLE noises when she's scared. It's totally heartbreaking. Here I was, doing my best as her advocate/parent/owner, and she doesn't understand why I'm letting strangers (potentially) hurt her. The look she gave me said, "Et tu, Mama?"

She wasn't hurt by any of this, physically. This is important to know. They gave her the sedative, and in seconds she just went limp. I don't think I've been that upset in ages, watching her very lively, active body just. Go. Limp. I had a bad feeling, but I've always gotten good care at the practice, and was ready to wait in the lobby for her to wake up.

(Usually they send owners home, wait for the dogs to totally come to, then send them home. Since Elphie still hasn't gotten over her fear of being in a crate/kennel, we decided- we being the vet and me- that once she was alert enough to lift her head, I'd take her home and keep an eye on her.)

So, I sat and read. While she was under, one of the seasoned vet techs asked me if I wanted them to run her heartworm test- which they hadn't been able to do at her first couple of appointments, three years ago. I was thrilled that she remembered, and approved the test. Elphie got the full "spa treatment" (tooth brushing, nail clipping), all while she slept.

I waited a little over an hour, and the vet tech let me know that she was starting to wake up. We loaded her up in the car, and headed home. When we pulled up to the house, Elphie was awake enough to not want ANY of my help or attention, but I carried her in the house, and set her down on the rug. Then, I cried for a little while. Partly because I was exhausted and hungry, partly because I felt like the Worst Mother Ever.

It's those things that need to be done- vaccinations, doctor's appointments, whatever, that human children say things to their parents like, "I hate you" or "Why are you letting them hurt me?" or whatever. One cannot explain the necessity of these things to a dog. Believe me, I tried.

I SWEAR- for the rest of the day, Elphie was snuggling anybody BUT me. (Fortunately, Niki had no qualms about snuggling me.) After some breakfast, a nap, and a mandatory cup of coffee, I felt better, physically. Mom assured me that I am not the Worst Mother Ever, and told me one of her Worst Mother Ever stories.

Colleen came and sat with the dogs while we went to see Flower Drum Song, partly because I'm neurotic, but mostly because if something went wrong, Colleen would know what to do, and the dogs trust her implicitly. By the time we got home - around 11 PM - Elphie had forgiven me.

By this morning, she was bouncing around on our bed, making me feel like yesterday was definitely over, and today is a new day.

Just like that.

To interrupt our normal programming...

You can hear how I came to spinning in the most recent episode of Cast-On!

(Upcoming posts will include our AWESOME Halloween shindig. And some knitting.)

Enjoy!