We didn't get flooded but lots of streets around us did. Last night's rain was apocalyptic there for a few minutes and showed us that we really do need new gutters because the rain was sheeting down between the soffit and gutters. It was like curtains of water, pretty but only on someone else's house. I must be getting old, there's a picture of a child swimming in a street on the front page of the paper and all I thought was, how dangerous, where's her mother? Old lady thoughts, right?
We're skipping writer's tonight because 3 of the 5 can't make it. Maybe I'll get Durwood to do a couple of exercises with me, unless someone wants to come over and write. I miss it when it's too long between exercise nights. I just love feeding off the energy of a group of writers sitting together and putting words down on paper.
July 7--Seychelles, Africa. Marty sat on the bow of the boat, leaning back on the windshield, as they sped toward the little island. She saw a dark mark on the white sand and sat up straighter. It looked like a piece of driftwood shaped like a cross. X marks the spot, she thought with an internal giggle. The swarthy faces of the boat crew reminded her of Hollywood pirates and she had entertained herself all week spinning tales of buccaneers out here in the Indian Ocean. This desolate part of the world peppered with far-flung island and few people would be the perfect place for a band of pirates to lurk. Of course these days they'd be in speedboats not the beautiful but slow sailing ships of old. Ranel the deck hand came up onto the bow with binoculars in his hand. He stood with his feet braced and flexed his knees to stay upright as the boat bounced over the swells. She stood up to get a better look. She gasped when she realized that what she had thought was a driftwood cross was the spreadeagled form of a man burnt nearly black by the harsh tropical sun.
Aaand, it's clouding up again. Man, the skeeters are going to carry us away if it keeps being so hot and wet. I'm off to get ready for work. Have a day.
--Barbara
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Gray Funk
That's the state of my mood, I'm in a gray funk, and it really has nothing to do with my life at the moment. I think it's like a chronic bacterial infection, it comes and it goes, sometimes it responds to treatment and other times it has its own agenda. Good things are happening in my life, I got published and PAID last week, nobody's sick(er than usual), and nothing's broken. But I can't seem to stick to my food plan (I'm trying so hard not to think of it as a diet) and it's more trouble than it's worth to work out lately. Maybe the crummy weather's what's making me ache all over and not want to exercise? So that means I'll feel better Friday when the overcast is supposed to be gone. Maybe? I got an email yesterday from the director of The Clearing asking if I was still interested in coming up and helping them get their newsletter restarted, to which I answered a resounding YES! That's an excellent piece of news, don't you think?
July 6--Kauai, Hawaii. Lani never expected it to be like this. She had always imagined Hawaii as a place of palm trees and white sand beaches, not jagged rocks and canyons over half a mile deep. She stumbled and sent a rock bouncing down the path and off into the air to clatter toward the bottom. It was cold here too, not at all what she meant to be doing on her vacation. When Richard said he wanted to go for a hike she thought he meant a stroll down the beach hand in hand, maybe in the moonlight. That would have been romantic. This was not. this was the Hawaiian version of the Bataan Death March, with a bunch of nerdy birdwatchers and botanists with binoculars around their necks and notebooks in their pockets. She wanted to be sipping a MaiTai under a palm tree not sipping an energy drink on the rim of a canyon. Some vacation this was turning out to be.
I'm with Lani, I'd like to be sipping a drink under a palm tree instead of needing to shower, get a haircut and then go to work to keep the world safe from scuba diving. But I do get my paycheck today, that's a good thing, and Dusty's coming over tonight after supper to knit for a while, that's a good thing too. My life is not all crap, I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Cheer up, Barbara, your life is good.
--Barbara
P.S. Is anybody out there? It feels big and echo-y in here. Hello?
July 6--Kauai, Hawaii. Lani never expected it to be like this. She had always imagined Hawaii as a place of palm trees and white sand beaches, not jagged rocks and canyons over half a mile deep. She stumbled and sent a rock bouncing down the path and off into the air to clatter toward the bottom. It was cold here too, not at all what she meant to be doing on her vacation. When Richard said he wanted to go for a hike she thought he meant a stroll down the beach hand in hand, maybe in the moonlight. That would have been romantic. This was not. this was the Hawaiian version of the Bataan Death March, with a bunch of nerdy birdwatchers and botanists with binoculars around their necks and notebooks in their pockets. She wanted to be sipping a MaiTai under a palm tree not sipping an energy drink on the rim of a canyon. Some vacation this was turning out to be.
I'm with Lani, I'd like to be sipping a drink under a palm tree instead of needing to shower, get a haircut and then go to work to keep the world safe from scuba diving. But I do get my paycheck today, that's a good thing, and Dusty's coming over tonight after supper to knit for a while, that's a good thing too. My life is not all crap, I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Cheer up, Barbara, your life is good.
--Barbara
P.S. Is anybody out there? It feels big and echo-y in here. Hello?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
What's That Flaming Ball In The Sky???
Oh, never mind, it's gone again. We here in the depths of Wisconsin are not used to it being hot and muggy day after day. We're whining now. I want to ride my bike but (insert whiny voice) it's too hot and humid out there. Plus my knee hurts. And my toes because they get shoved forward in my shoes. I think I'll stay in the a/c and pout.
July 5--Filicudi, Italy. Lipari and Salina lay tantalizing on the horizon just waiting to be explored. Gina grew up hearing stories of her grandparents' childhoods on this little cluster of islands. She heard about the farming and fishing, about the war years and how hungry everyone was, and yet they were nostalgic about the place, The yearning in their voices was plain to her even when she was small. She always meant to come, and she meant to bring them all along. Of course her grandparents were long dead, her parents too. Her Aunt Lucia was still alive but Gina would rather cut off a hand than spend a month exploring Italian islands with Aunt Lucia who was a professional complainer. Uncle Vito had died about fifteen years ago, probably just for the silence, and Aunt Lucia still acted as if it were yesterday.
Eh. Stay cool.
--Barbara
July 5--Filicudi, Italy. Lipari and Salina lay tantalizing on the horizon just waiting to be explored. Gina grew up hearing stories of her grandparents' childhoods on this little cluster of islands. She heard about the farming and fishing, about the war years and how hungry everyone was, and yet they were nostalgic about the place, The yearning in their voices was plain to her even when she was small. She always meant to come, and she meant to bring them all along. Of course her grandparents were long dead, her parents too. Her Aunt Lucia was still alive but Gina would rather cut off a hand than spend a month exploring Italian islands with Aunt Lucia who was a professional complainer. Uncle Vito had died about fifteen years ago, probably just for the silence, and Aunt Lucia still acted as if it were yesterday.
Eh. Stay cool.
--Barbara
Monday, July 5, 2010
The End
Today's the last day for the best yarn shop in the area. Loops and Links in DePere is closing because the owner needs more time with her growing children. Everything in the
store was 60% off so I made one more trip, spent another $20 bill, one last time. I found some lovely yarns to use to make the wrap pattern I bought in Goshen (I am amazed that the pattern's not on Ravelry so I can't even link to it to show you). It's a rectangular wrap knit slightly on the bias on really big needles (and we all know how much I love knitting stuff on big needles) with interesting yarn, and then when you're done, you pick up stitches along the short ends with smaller needles and use kid merino (skinny and fuzzy yarn) to knit a ruffle on the ends. There was a sample in Ewe-Nique Knits that really attracted me and the pattern was only three bucks. I got the purple Nashua Daylily to go with some Filatura di Crosa Multicolor I've got on hand. I'm not sure what I'll put with the coral Urban Sil
k but it was too gorgeous to leave behind. Besides, 60% off!
I made excellent progress with only a few stumbles on the 198 yds. of Crazy shawlette yesterday. See? I'm through the first 22 rows and almost halfway through the next 22. The pattern calls for 2 1/2 repeats but I think I may add another one since I've got another skein of the yarn. Only time will tell.
store was 60% off so I made one more trip, spent another $20 bill, one last time. I found some lovely yarns to use to make the wrap pattern I bought in Goshen (I am amazed that the pattern's not on Ravelry so I can't even link to it to show you). It's a rectangular wrap knit slightly on the bias on really big needles (and we all know how much I love knitting stuff on big needles) with interesting yarn, and then when you're done, you pick up stitches along the short ends with smaller needles and use kid merino (skinny and fuzzy yarn) to knit a ruffle on the ends. There was a sample in Ewe-Nique Knits that really attracted me and the pattern was only three bucks. I got the purple Nashua Daylily to go with some Filatura di Crosa Multicolor I've got on hand. I'm not sure what I'll put with the coral Urban Sil
k but it was too gorgeous to leave behind. Besides, 60% off!
I made excellent progress with only a few stumbles on the 198 yds. of Crazy shawlette yesterday. See? I'm through the first 22 rows and almost halfway through the next 22. The pattern calls for 2 1/2 repeats but I think I may add another one since I've got another skein of the yarn. Only time will tell.
Holiday Weekend
So, did everyone have a nice weekend? Did you go see some fireworks? I did. It was lovely. We walked from DS & DIL's apartment down to the Fox River Trail and found a spot right there where we could see them. It drizzled a bit but we stuck it out and oohed and ahhed along with the rest of the diehards. I love fireworks. Did you eat traditional 4th of July fare? Not us, Durwood fixed chicken gizzards in the crock pot and a kohlrabi and carrot casserole that was...interesting. I suspect it would have been tastier in its full-fat form, but "fit & healthy," remember? Despite a lack of weight loss lately I'm sticking with my goal to get fit and healthy. Hey, at least I haven't gained weight, that's an accomplishment right there.
July 3&4--Manhattan, New York. It was hard waiting until 9:45 but Jane found the strength to be patient when her goal was so near. The last four years had been nearly unbearable but all that would change in the few minutes after that magic time. Please God, she thought, don't let them start late. When dark clouds rolled over the city in the late afternoon she had nearly cried, but she was done crying. Now was the time for action. Her preparations had been careful, seamless, and no drizzle was going to interrupt them. She had been sure to have plenty of Roger's favorite beer on ice and she had made steak on the grill out on the balcony with friend potatoes made in his beloved mother's cast iron skillet. "Good," he had burped as he stuffed the last bite into his mouth and dropped his fork with a clatter. She saw a little shard of the plate chip off and fly into the salad bowl but said nothing. He didn't see it, his head was tipped back, the better to empty his eighth beer. He went back to his recliner, picking another beer out of the fridge on his way, and settled in to watch the fireworks. Jane cleared the table, scraped the scraps into the trash, and loaded the dishwasher. She left the bag of trash by the back door untied and ready. From the television came the sounds of patriotic music and a reporter interviewing families. She peeked at the screen as she went through the room to the bedroom. Everything was going as planned, the TV cameras were right in the park across the street with a view of the barge in the river where the fireworks would launch. The smooth voice of the reporter told her that she had less than three minutes to wait. Perfect. She changed into her loudest print blouse and put on latex gloves. She pulled the shiny chrome pistol out of her underwear drawer and quietly jacked the slide. Jane heard the foomph of the first shell being launched not one-hundred yards from where she stood and squared her shoulders. On legs that were sure and unshaking she walked into the living room behind Roger in his chair. She listened for the sound of the next shell igniting, counted to six, and at the moment the exploding firework shook the pictures on the walls, she gently touched the barrel of the gun to the top of his head and pulled the trigger. She was calm and unblinking as she watched Roger's brains spew out his mouth and land in his lap, then she turned toward the kitchen, peeling off the gloves as she went and making sure they wrapped around the gun. She put it in the trash bag and tied the top. Taking a moment to wipe off her arms with the bleach-soaked rag she had prepared, she picked up her key and the bag. After a stop at the dumpster she made sure to be in the crowd talking to neighbors and the young reporter in her very memorable shirt before the echoes of the blast had faded.
Whoa, guess we don't want to piss Jane off! Sorry, Roger. What a crap day.
--Barbara
July 3&4--Manhattan, New York. It was hard waiting until 9:45 but Jane found the strength to be patient when her goal was so near. The last four years had been nearly unbearable but all that would change in the few minutes after that magic time. Please God, she thought, don't let them start late. When dark clouds rolled over the city in the late afternoon she had nearly cried, but she was done crying. Now was the time for action. Her preparations had been careful, seamless, and no drizzle was going to interrupt them. She had been sure to have plenty of Roger's favorite beer on ice and she had made steak on the grill out on the balcony with friend potatoes made in his beloved mother's cast iron skillet. "Good," he had burped as he stuffed the last bite into his mouth and dropped his fork with a clatter. She saw a little shard of the plate chip off and fly into the salad bowl but said nothing. He didn't see it, his head was tipped back, the better to empty his eighth beer. He went back to his recliner, picking another beer out of the fridge on his way, and settled in to watch the fireworks. Jane cleared the table, scraped the scraps into the trash, and loaded the dishwasher. She left the bag of trash by the back door untied and ready. From the television came the sounds of patriotic music and a reporter interviewing families. She peeked at the screen as she went through the room to the bedroom. Everything was going as planned, the TV cameras were right in the park across the street with a view of the barge in the river where the fireworks would launch. The smooth voice of the reporter told her that she had less than three minutes to wait. Perfect. She changed into her loudest print blouse and put on latex gloves. She pulled the shiny chrome pistol out of her underwear drawer and quietly jacked the slide. Jane heard the foomph of the first shell being launched not one-hundred yards from where she stood and squared her shoulders. On legs that were sure and unshaking she walked into the living room behind Roger in his chair. She listened for the sound of the next shell igniting, counted to six, and at the moment the exploding firework shook the pictures on the walls, she gently touched the barrel of the gun to the top of his head and pulled the trigger. She was calm and unblinking as she watched Roger's brains spew out his mouth and land in his lap, then she turned toward the kitchen, peeling off the gloves as she went and making sure they wrapped around the gun. She put it in the trash bag and tied the top. Taking a moment to wipe off her arms with the bleach-soaked rag she had prepared, she picked up her key and the bag. After a stop at the dumpster she made sure to be in the crowd talking to neighbors and the young reporter in her very memorable shirt before the echoes of the blast had faded.
Whoa, guess we don't want to piss Jane off! Sorry, Roger. What a crap day.
--Barbara
Sunday, July 4, 2010
A-a-a-and, We're Off!
Vroom, vroom, vroom! That's the sound of all the projects starting around here. I told you I'd do it and I did. I tried to resist the lure of all that yarn and all those empty needles but I was too weak. And it's hot and humid and windy so I need to stay indoors and cast on knitting projects.
I started the second Cartoons sock at work on Wednesday. Of course I forgot to take it along on Thursday, but I was busy most of Thursday so I probably wouldn't have gotten any further anyway.
Dusty and I decided on Tuesday that we're doing a KAL (Knit-A-Long) of the shawlette (kind of a triangular scarf-ish sized lace thing) called 198 yds. of Heaven. It's supposed to be easy and it's on bigger needles and calls for worsted weight yarn, instead of the toothpicks and spiderweb yarn most of them do. We were foolish enough to imagine that we could start them at Friday Night Knitting Circle. Hah! After a few tries, Dusty put hers away but I persevered, casting on, knitting a few rows, rea
lizing I was short stitches or doing it all wrong, and frogging it--probably 5 or 6 times. (frogging means ripping it out to start over) After I got home I worked on it a bit more, had still made a fatal mistake and put it away. Last night (after driving up to the tip of Door Co., diving with friends, and then driving home) I tried again and bollixed it up again. This morning I frogged it and started over, for about the 12th or 15th time. This time I followed Durwood's suggestion and chanted the stitches out loud. It works. I can't watch a movie or listen to a book while I knit on it, but I have hopes that eventually I'll get better at lace knitting and be able to. I was getting so tense that my fingers were cramping and my shoulders were hunched up around my ears. Thanks for the idea, dear! I'm stubborn enough to stick with this through all the initial frustrations and console myself that the bit at the back of the neck will be really soft from all the frogging and reknitting it endured. Way to rationalize!
And I want to knit that red hoodie I keep dreaming about and have the yarn for. It's
the Judi sweater from Knits Three Ways and I've decided to see if I can't knit it in one piece on circs instead of back and forth on straights. I hate to purl and the body of a sweater's a lot of purling when you have as much acreage to cover as I do. I cast on the right number of stitches for my size and I'm getting gauge, but it looks small. For now I'm going to trust the pattern. *fingers crossed*
I met friends at Garrett Bay in northern Door County for a dive yesterday. Here I a
m after we'd done an hour underwater. I still love diving but I'm getting too many hobbies, too many claims on my time. I need to open up a branch Barbara so that I can do EVERYTHING all at once!
I started the second Cartoons sock at work on Wednesday. Of course I forgot to take it along on Thursday, but I was busy most of Thursday so I probably wouldn't have gotten any further anyway.
Dusty and I decided on Tuesday that we're doing a KAL (Knit-A-Long) of the shawlette (kind of a triangular scarf-ish sized lace thing) called 198 yds. of Heaven. It's supposed to be easy and it's on bigger needles and calls for worsted weight yarn, instead of the toothpicks and spiderweb yarn most of them do. We were foolish enough to imagine that we could start them at Friday Night Knitting Circle. Hah! After a few tries, Dusty put hers away but I persevered, casting on, knitting a few rows, rea
lizing I was short stitches or doing it all wrong, and frogging it--probably 5 or 6 times. (frogging means ripping it out to start over) After I got home I worked on it a bit more, had still made a fatal mistake and put it away. Last night (after driving up to the tip of Door Co., diving with friends, and then driving home) I tried again and bollixed it up again. This morning I frogged it and started over, for about the 12th or 15th time. This time I followed Durwood's suggestion and chanted the stitches out loud. It works. I can't watch a movie or listen to a book while I knit on it, but I have hopes that eventually I'll get better at lace knitting and be able to. I was getting so tense that my fingers were cramping and my shoulders were hunched up around my ears. Thanks for the idea, dear! I'm stubborn enough to stick with this through all the initial frustrations and console myself that the bit at the back of the neck will be really soft from all the frogging and reknitting it endured. Way to rationalize!And I want to knit that red hoodie I keep dreaming about and have the yarn for. It's
the Judi sweater from Knits Three Ways and I've decided to see if I can't knit it in one piece on circs instead of back and forth on straights. I hate to purl and the body of a sweater's a lot of purling when you have as much acreage to cover as I do. I cast on the right number of stitches for my size and I'm getting gauge, but it looks small. For now I'm going to trust the pattern. *fingers crossed*I met friends at Garrett Bay in northern Door County for a dive yesterday. Here I a
m after we'd done an hour underwater. I still love diving but I'm getting too many hobbies, too many claims on my time. I need to open up a branch Barbara so that I can do EVERYTHING all at once!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Oops I Almost Forgot
I was so excited to go diving today that I forgot to post my nightly writing before I left and after I got back. It was a gorgeous day and a nice dive. Thanks for asking.
July 2--Kizhi Island, Russia. The island is long and narrow like it was squeezed up out of the sea. I picture two great hands, fingers together, pressing and shaping the primordial ooze like potter's clay. It rises slick and shiny into a peak which the hands smooth a bit, not too much, just enough so that a few hardy organisms, fungi and lichens and tough grasses can find a few centimeters of surface to cling to. The edges of the island aren't straight, our imaginary artist abhors straight lines, but left jagged. Natural, he says. Some say it's an excuse for his sloppy work but I see the opportunities he has made for trees to shade the spine and shrubs to gather in corners so that every aspect of the long thin precarious place has its own special charm.
Okay, there you go. Now I can go do tonight's prompt, or maybe I'll wait until tomorrow, I'm awfully tired.
--Barbara
July 2--Kizhi Island, Russia. The island is long and narrow like it was squeezed up out of the sea. I picture two great hands, fingers together, pressing and shaping the primordial ooze like potter's clay. It rises slick and shiny into a peak which the hands smooth a bit, not too much, just enough so that a few hardy organisms, fungi and lichens and tough grasses can find a few centimeters of surface to cling to. The edges of the island aren't straight, our imaginary artist abhors straight lines, but left jagged. Natural, he says. Some say it's an excuse for his sloppy work but I see the opportunities he has made for trees to shade the spine and shrubs to gather in corners so that every aspect of the long thin precarious place has its own special charm.
Okay, there you go. Now I can go do tonight's prompt, or maybe I'll wait until tomorrow, I'm awfully tired.
--Barbara
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)