PoMo Golightly

A Proper Cuppa

This view is from our side yard looking into the front.  In an effort to have less impact on Mama Earth, we're (well, Neal) slowly shrinking our front yard by transforming it into a meadow.  Neal did a lot of landscape architecture coursework as an undergrad, and I reap the results with an interesting yard.  When the grass is freshly mown, the line between meadow and yard is crisp, and the flow of the path to walk in order to enjoy the meadow (along with the myriad frogs, bees, and dragonflies) is nothing short of delightful.

I savor these autumn days, especially when they are linked with chilly nights.  I know that, before long, I'll need to brace myself before I open the door.  Right now it's enough to pull on a sweater and bring my beloved pashmina onto the deck with me if I want to enjoy the fresh air.

The leaves are taking their sweet time changing, and I'm not complaining.  We drove to the New York border today to mess around in a few antique shops.  I scored a delightful little embroidered gift for my mom, and I also made a purchase at an impressive tea shop.  When I came back from my summer in England, nothing but a proper cuppa would do for me.  Over the years, I've settled back into less satisfying American tea bags.  One of the little changes I want to make to enrich my life is to return to a proper cup of tea.  I've only myself to blame if I'm feeling less than elegant about the details of my life, and it's up to me to establish and maintain some standards.

I'd love to hear about how you ensure there are little moments of elegance in your life. 

Doggies and knitting and grading, oh my!

Thanks for the birthday wishes for Neal.  Lizzie asked about the third dog in the picture; that's Charlie, Blogless (not for long) Sara's sweet pup.  I'll tell you a secret: I've been sort of vying for a third pup in our house.  Neal's best friend just adopted her third dog, a chihuahua.  While I'm not usually a fan of little dogs, baby Aisha has changed my mind.  She's so funny and bossy, and, well, I'll be frank with you.  I could make outfits for a chihuahua.  I want a living dolly.  There, I've said it.  Think of me what you will.

I've realized over the last year as I've worked independently on my dissertation that I'm highly motivated by reward, but even more motivated by punishment.  Again, think of me what you will.  To that end, I'm finding that I need something to urge me onward with revising the novella section of my project.  I've struggled all month with a third short story, and I'm not making progress with it.  I"ve admitted a temporary defeat, but I'm not allowed any more failure in the next month.  I've decided that I can only knit on my Rhinebeck sweater on days that I do my Treadmill Journal.  Reward and punishment, all rolled into one.

Tomorrow's a big day in New York City:  Cara's Spin-Out in Central Park.  I originally thought I'd be going, but I decided that I need to spend the day with Neal.  We're going to have an adventure tomorrow, and then in the evening I'll be engaged in some grading.  My students turned in their first paper today, and that will keep me plenty busy for the next week.  If you're going to Spin-Out, though, I hope you have a blast.  I can't wait to hear all about it.

I'm off to walk my mutts, who lack in adorable outfits.  I need a chihuahua, don't you think? 

Happy Birthday, Neal!

We've had a fun day together, and there are still presents to be opened.  Oh, how I love birthdays!!

Will Post for Votes

Especially when I think the artists deserve them.

First, go vote for Yarn-a-Go-Go's novel.  You have to sign up for Gather, but they're not going to sell your e-mail or anything.  Remember, she needs a 10 for your vote to count.  As a fellow Treadmiller, I feel invested in her success!

Next, check out this contest.  Head over and vote for What's Wrong with Mud?  If I could pick anything else other than being a writer for my passion, I think I'd want to be an illustrator.  Aren't those farm animals adorable?

Her Hardest Hue to Hold

Our woods are getting littered with the early golden leaves that drift to the ground.  Now and again I see a shot of red or orange, and those glowy colors will increase in the next few weeks.

Can you believe S.E. Hinton's classic The Outsiders turns 40 this year? 

Sweet Weekend, How I Love You!

I thought I'd distract you from my continuing inability to post new pictures by showing you the peonies I carried for my wedding.  Aren't they so pretty? 

Randomness follows.

1.  I started Foliage last night. It's Christmas knitting.

2.  This kit arrived in today's mail.  I may shun the Cozy V-neck pullover for all the grief I've had of it and cast on this as my Rhinebeck sweater.

3.  I taught a good lesson on thesis statements this week.  Well, I did it in two parts, and today was the workshop part.  The brave kids who volunteered their draft thesis statements seemed pleased with their revised, post-workshop statements.

4. I just booked a flight to visit my bestest friend and sister, MB, in January.  I'm super excited as I'm hoping to get a visit with Sheila in, too (I'll be e-mailing you with the 411, Sheila!).

5.  Even though I can't wait for Season Four of Gray's Anatomy to start (I've almost caught up on all the previous episodes), I thought the hour-long PR piece about Addison and her new show was ridiculous.  I tried to defend it while Neal mocked it.  After all, these are my tv friends.  But, c'mon.  WTF?

6. Despite the inherent sadness of the subject matter, Away With Her, adapted from Alice Munro's "A Bear Came Over the Mountain," is one of the best movies I've seen in quite some time.  I liked that it opened a lengthy discussion between me and Neal about how we want to be treated as we age.  I hated that we need to have such discussions, but better to know each others' minds than just think we'll be young (ish) forever.

7.  We went to a divey Mexican restuarant on Wednesday after I cried over my failed polenta on Tuesday.  Yesterday I woke up thinking about the leftovers I would have for lunch.  One might say I obsessed over them.  After two years in New Mexico, I'm damn fussy about the Mexican I eat, and I'm glad to have found a joint I like, even if it is in Connecticut's own version of Hell.  At least the restaurant isn't in a mall, right?

8.  After a bit of spit-spat housework, I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon outside.  We're having divine end-of-summer weather here, and I want to savor every moment of it.

Thanks for bearing with the randomness; I hope you enjoy your weekend!

A Little Linen Thong

I made this earlier in the month for a handmade swap.  I like how elegant the linen makes this simple pattern, and any books I give this holiday season will come with a little thong, too.

While I'm able to get pictures from the camera to the computer now, I've managed to lock up the memory card that goes in the camera, so fixing that is my next technology challenge.  I've got lots of other things to photograph; I'd better get out that camera manual again!

Twisty and Tricksy

I'm getting bored with my lack of pictures, aren't you?  Not that my pix are any great shakes, but they do make for a more interesting post.  I guess that means that I should focus on getting the cameral and computer together.  ETA:  After some time with Google, I discovered that I need to buy a memory card reader, and then I can get back to posting pictures.  I'll be stopping by my favorite box store tomorrow to pick up what I need!

Pictures would really help me to explain what happened at last week's SnB.  Blog-free Kim was talking about the way in which a stitch sits on a needle.  I looked at my stitches (I was working on Cozy V-neck, v.2), and her description and my stitches had little to do with each other.  I decided to ask the question that I've avoided for a while.

"Do my stitches look twisted to you?"  Both Nearly-Not-Blogless Sara and Blog-free Kim agreed that they did.  I showed them how I knit. 

Nope.  My knit stitch is not the culprit.  I showed them my purl, and NNB Sara (an English-style knitter) confirmed that I was not purling properly.  I don't need to hear comforting comments about how there is "no" right or wrong way in knitting.  I believe there is.  One may get to the right way via a variety of methods, but there is a place of rightness in knitting. 

Anyhow, NNB Sara showed me her purl stitch, and whaddya know?  My knitting looks just as it should again.  My pals wanted to know WTF?  How was I purling wrong for so long?

After I thought about it for a few minutes, I realized that when Scout and Carole instructed me in the ways of English knitting, I was working on socks, and I only learned the knit stitch from them.  I didn't anything flat until after I'd moved back east.  I find it hysterical that I have been effing up for nearly two years now; I applied my Continental way of approaching the yarn to the English way of knitting.  Jenny asked if I was doing combined knitting, and I guess I had been, of sorts, but not a combination that works!

To soothe myself from the distress of having to rip out, yet again, the Cozy V-neck pullover, I spent my craft time over the weekend on embroidery and spinning.  I also whipped out a washcloth to go into the Christmas gift basket.  My oldest sister suggested that her daughter would *love* a pair of hand knit socks for Christmas, as well as an iPod cozy (she's coveted her mother's for a while), and a hat.  Gotta love a girl who wants hand knits, no?  I just need to get information about sizes and colors, and I'll start some projects for Miss Alexis.

Have you been working on any holiday projects?

We Have a Winner

Thanks to everyone who played in the contest--at 11:29 last night, Bev left the 2,000 comment on this blog. 

Bev, will you please e-mail me at b13army AT Yahoo DOT com with your snail mail addy?  I've got some yarn and something handmade for you and want to talk colors.  I like my contest winners to be happy.

***

A while ago Neal suggested that I must see Gothic.  As a fan of the English Romantics (I almost made that my area of study instead of Shakespeare.  Imagine!), he thought it was shameful that I had never seen Ken Russell's film about one of literature's most important contests.  I dutifully put the movie on my Netflix queue, only to discover that it was being reissued.  All summer I waited for word that it was on its way to us, and yesterday, finally, it arrived.  I was so excited about it that I called Neal at work to tell him the good news.  I did all my chores and even cooked a lovely meal, then settled in for the movie.  Neal gave me a sheepish, "I hope you like it," you know the way you do when you've built up a movie or book and then have doubts about your recommendation.

It. Sucked.

I couldn't even finish it, and I'm pretty good at finishing even bad movies.  The aesthetic of the film irritated me; the angles at which Russell shot the actors were beyond unflattering; the story was all wrong.  Don't even get me started about the sound track, which was constantly at a frenzied, built-up state, meaning that the viewer is constantly expecting something big and is constantly denied that big something.  Not in a suspenseful way, either.

As Neal chatted with me before work this morning (one of my favorite parts of the day, btw), he was a bit sheepish and unclear about why he'd thought that movie was one of his favorites.  I blame it on the 80s.  Perhaps it seemed artsy and edgy then, but it did not hold up over the last 20 years.

What's the worst movie you've seen in a while? 

300

First, thank you to everyone who left a comment yesterday.  I appreciated the thoughtful words you all shared. 

Now, some math.  If there more than a few comments to this post, I'm pretty certain we'll have a winner for my little "2,000th on the 300th" contest.  There's something attractive about reaching both of those numbers at the same time to me.  I like when numbers align.

I had to align some numbers myself today.  Last week I diligently knit the first part, you know, before you join, of the Cozy V-neck Pullover from Fitted Knits.  I did all thirteen repeats before I got off my lazy tush and found a tape measure.  The pattern calls for 3.5 spi.  I had 5 spi.  My math-addled brain said, "fine, missy.  You'll just make a smaller size and be fine.  You're just off by a little."  After Blog-free Kim and Blogless Sara messed around with the math for a few minutes, they reached the same conclusion at the same time.  Wanna know what it is?

Beverly is a ding dong and totally, as Noelle might say, a math-impaired Barbie.

I was convinced my gauge was off the wrong way.  So I ripped, and then I did some algebra.  I took all of the places in the pattern where numbers of stitches (S) occurred, divided said number by 3.5 (pattern gauge), then multiplied it by 5 (my gauge).  I penciled in the new numbers and cast on again.  Sixty-nine stitches instead of forty-eight.

In formulaic terms:  S / 3.5 x 5=NSN (new stitch number).  Now that ain't so tough, is it?  I'm not math-impaired at all.  In fact, I'm a bit clever about math.

What's made you feel rather clever in your life lately?