Facing Intimidation (and Doing Sort of Okay)

I know how to knit a little. I can knit and purl, and have made several nice scarves and a lumpy but serviceable poncho. I've been wanting to make hats, though, but haven't had the courage. Until now.

I present . . . my first hat, hours away from its completion:



I don't know if this photo (taken with my phone, of course) shows off the yarn, but it's hand-dyed, and is a gorgeous plummy color, and so soft! It's going to be a lumpy hat, and more than a little uneven, but I think it's going to fit. And I can't *wait* to wear it.

I picked up this yarn when I was out getting those double-pointed needles. It's either a gray that looks blue or a blue that looks gray, and I love it. Plus: On sale!



It's Shetland wool, and I've been hearing Mike Myers as his character's dad in So I Married an Axe Murderer ever since I picked it up. "Head! Pants, now!"

What? Oh, Hi There.

I've been absent a while, playing the role of the stay-at-home mom, which is not for the faint of heart. (Although now that school has started, it might be a nice gig. I could see myself staying home alone all day, cleaning, cooking, running, baking, knitting, and reading, and then shuffling off to pick up The Boy from soccer practice at 4:30. And if I ever find myself independently wealthy, that's exactly what I'll do.)

I won't bore you with my activities of the last week and a half, but I will tell you a few things:

The Boy is in middle school, with a crazy schedule of rotating A-Weeks and B-Weeks, and a locker, and all kinds of grown-up(ish) stuff. I'm excited, interested, proud, and nervous about all of this cusp-of-adolescence business. AND his picture is on the school's new website, which is cool. He's in profile, and he's not in uniform, because the photo was taken on an Own Clothes Day, but he's reading to his Kindergarten Buddy, and it's too cute. If you already know what school he goes to, and you know him, and you want to see, let me know and I'll send you a link. (If you're a weird stalker pedophile, go to hell.)

I am still running (plodding), and am on the part of the plan where I run (plod) for 25-minutes straight. I've lost about fifteen pounds, I think. I only have one more week on this program, and once it's finished I'll go back to the beginning and actually RUN. Not fast--I'm never fast--but fast enough that toddlers and people with walkers won't be able to lap me.

Jennifer Haigh's new book, The Condition, is very, very good. I got it from the library (they sent me a large print copy, which was VERY difficult to read), but I will buy it when I can afford to. Haigh is a wonderful writer with a connection to western PA, and there's always at least a little piece of that in her novels.

Tropic Thunder is very, very funny.

I got my hair cut and colored last week, and while the color is awesome, the cut is leaving me cold. I told the woman who cuts it that I wanted to be able to NOT DO ANYTHING TO IT. Technically, I don't have to do anything, but . . . it needs to be chopped shorter. Next time.

And that's it for me. I'll be in my corner napping if you need me.

Good News and Bad News

First the bad news: I am at home, weathering the perfect storm of stomach, anxiety, and menstrual issues. I will be fine, and am hoping to be able to go into work this afternoon, but for now I am sticking near the bathroom.

The good news, however, is really good . . . at least if you're a Jasper Fforde fan. I picked up the audiobook for The Fourth Bear, just because it caught my eye at the library, and listening to it made me wonder what Fforde is up to. According to his website, we can look forward to a new book next summer, Shades of Grey, which is neither a Thursday Next book NOR a Nursery Crime book! It looks like we're going to get a whole new Fforde universe!

But wait--there's more! From the website:

"If you want to know what's happening after that, it will either be the sixth in the Thursday Next series One of Our Thursdays is Missing or the third in the NCD trilogy, entitled The Last Great Tortoise Race."

How's THAT for good news?

And now I'm off to sip Coke and nibble on an English muffin.

Headlines

Public Service Announcement: I have read the first two books in the Twilight series, and I must insist that you read them ONLY if you have a girl in your life who has read or may read them. The books are crap of the highest order, and the feature one of the worst, most drippy, dreadful protagonists I have ever encountered. Avoid these books at all costs, unless—as I said—you know a young fan. If you do, please read them immediately and initiate a discussion so as to ascertain whether fan in question thinks it’s normal for girls to completely sublimate themselves to their overbearing boyfriends, and whether she thinks it’s okay for female sexuality to be portrayed as something that literally threatens her life unless it remains totally passive, and controlled by said boyfriend.

That concludes this public service message. Thank you.

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Back to the Lab Again: I have been serving as the de facto music librarian here at my station, and have been cataloging the tens of thousands of CDs in the music library. (Believe it or not, there is no formal catalog or database in existence.) I couldn’t help but notice, as I cataloged, that there is a real dearth of women in jazz; unless they’re vocalists, women are few and far between. Intrigued, I started gathering information about the women who did/do have more of a role—women musicians, arrangers, and composers, and I thought . . . I THOUGHT . . . I might be able to come up with a small book about these women, and what made them succeed in the dark, seedy man’s world of jazz. I mean, I have all kinds of resources at my fingertips, Pittsburgh is a jazz hub, and I have a master’s degree in what is essentially research, so I figured a publisher might actually take a proposal from me seriously. Right?

But it turns out that the people I was most interested in, like Marylou Williams, have been covered pretty thoroughly. And guess what: If I’m not completely captivated by a subject, I can’t give it enough of my energy to come up with a decent scholarly article, much less an entire book.

As Beck sang: “Soy un perdidor. I’m loser, Baby, so why don’t you kill me?”

So while there is not a book in my immediate future, it looks like an exam will be: I’m going to retake the GRE because my old scores (from back when I was SMART) have expired. Why am I doing this? So I can get another master’s degree, of course. Because I’m having a terrible time finding a library job in a university library (and once you work for a university, the perks are impossible to give up, let me tell you), and I think having a second master’s will be a big help there. So . . . time to remember my geometry and brush up on my vocabulary, because I have to pin my self-worth to a standardized test score. Woo!

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I Have Pretty Fingernails: I don’t do anything to deserve them, and I only really notice them when they need trimming, like now, but . . . as I am fairly light on the natural beauty assets, I thought I would take a moment to publicly appreciate them. And, you know, take a picture of my fingers while I’m supposed to be working.