Recently in Knitting Category

A new set of handlebars, choosing rims, having my pedal threads retapped.

Flirting outrageously (redhead, natch). A couple of new dates in the works (non-redheads - well, one of them is in fact redheaded, but is not one of my fair redheaded friends).

A ride in a monsoon. A lovely cool ride the next day.

A thought about what I'd do if I were given another 40 years of life (just now), a thought about what death is, a thought that it's really best not to think such thoughts.

A list written to a boy I'll likely never meet. The world exists so much in the unwritten category these days - letters on a screen but never on a page.

I watched a documentary on the retrieval of a famous pirate ship wreck, and the objects they pulled up - the coins that used to be cut into eight pieces (yep, "pieces of eight"), a boy's shoe with a piece of his legbone still caught in it after 300 years. The cannon. More than 60 of them: English, French, and Spanish. The captain, a legendary dandy. The crew, run as a democracy, with even a primitive form of health insurance - they got paid for missing limbs.

My friends, pirates themselves, in one way or another, braving many, many dangers to flit in and out of traffic, delivering other people's packages for pittances - more money for faster riding. Bold, ignoring the laws of physics and the push of fear. Beautiful, strong, dirty, admirable, trash-talking, fiercely loyal, strangely kind.

That bit of knitting is a new hat, to go under my winter helmet. Yarn: Bought at Rhinebeck last fall, hand-dyed by a woman whom I met. The most glorious irislike colours. Colours is prettier with a "u," if you ask me.

Apparently there is an interview meme going 'round, whereby the blogger interviews her/his spouse regarding his/her feelings about her/his knitting activities, and knowledge of knitting terms. Having no spouse or even remote equivalent, I have decided to interview Kitwich instead.

Below is our interview, translated for your reading ease.

Girlwich: Has my knitting in public ever embarrassed you?
Kitwich: You never let me go out in public.

Girlwich: Do you know my favorite kind of yarn?
Kitwich: I know my favorite kind of yarn. Malabrigo.
Girlwich: Yeah, that's mine, too.

Girlwich: Can you name another blog?
Kitwich: No, but I can type something on yours. Here, let me walk on the keyboard.

Girlwich: Do you mind that I want to check out yarn stores everywhere we go?
Kitwich: See that first question. We don't go anywhere. You go out on that damn bike and leave me all alone to pine in the window. See me pining? Where's my catnip? I deserve catnip after such a long day of pining.

Girlwich: Do you understand the importance of a swatch?
Kitwich: I understand that it's tasty. But I really prefer the work-in-progress because it has those nice dangly ends.

Girlwich: What exactly is a swatch?
Kitwich. Yawn.

Girlwich: Do you read the blog?
Kitwich: No, but I write on it sometimes. xftrytfv. See? There. I just wrote something nice for you. Now gimme some catnip. Or milk. Milk is good, too.

Girlwich: Have you ever left a comment?
Kitwich: Um, hello. I comment all the time. Don't you hear me? Geez. What bad hearing you humans have.

Girlwich: Do you think the house would be cleaner if I didn't knit?
Kitwich: I think my litter box would be cleaner if you didn't knit. Or bike. Or think about boys.

Girlwich: Is there anything you would like to add in closing?
Kitwich: Yes. That Malabrigo looks tasty. I'm going to abscond with it now. And I should definitely get some milk and catnip after this blasted interview.

Hello bay-bees. My week of not thinking too hard about anything has been oddly productive.

Enough that I begin to wonder if I should do more of this kind of thing. Making decisions by not making them. Choosing to just ride my bike endlessly and sleep very very late, and then wake up one day knowing kinda what I want to do.

Sorta neat, really.

I begin to think perhaps my best bits are the intuitive ones, the ones that don't fret too much, that just let something sit and reflect the water off the leaves. I dunno.

But I will remember this the next time I have some momentous decision facing me. That sometimes the best course of action is no action - or actually lots of action. Lots of physical activity and less mental gymnastics.

Anyway, I don't think I am quite ready to go into details, since they are still being worked out (with very little brow furrowing), but it's good.

In other news, I have picked up an old on-the-needles project and have been whittling away, oh so very slowly and lackadaisically, at it. Row by tiny row. There's a metaphor in there, somewhere, but I am not going to go chasing it. It's my new park zen. Just ride. The rest will come.

Welcome to the Botanical Gardens. It's very, very pretty there. Lots of flowers and trees. We wandered, we looked up at the blue-blue sky, we took lots of pictures of ourselves playing in among the flowers, we sniffed a metric ton (each) of various roses (mmmm lemony), and we marveled at the giant pitch-black irises.

We knitted on the train both ways. I worked on my First (hopefully Triumphant) Sock. My traveling companion worked on her First (undoubtedly Triumphant) legwarmers. When I got home, I jumped on my bike and rode to Central Park and got a bunch of plant matter in my eyes and tired myself out on those hills and came home all nicely whooped and sweaty.

The next day I had to work (say it with me, ICK!) but then later I got on my bike again and rode to the bowling alley, stopping first at a little park and watching the sun sink low in the sky with about a million hipsters, all picnicking and smoking and trying to outcool one another with their giant 1970s sunglasses and their short little baggy dresses and their long sideburns and their track bikes with curly bars.

But it was nice. And then I went bowling, and bowled really badly until I realized I needed a heavier ball (either that or the second giant 22-ounce beer kicked in), and then I bowled progressively better, finishing up with a STRIKE in the last frame. Yay, me!

And the kids bowling next to us were all sad when we left because we had been cheering for them, too, and they were gonna miss that, because they were too cool to cheer as wholeheartedly as we do. Plus, we had better tattoos.

Today I slept and slept. Very unusual for me. I got tired at 1am, and got into bed sometime before 2, and read, and turned off the light and fell asleep - all before 3. I know, you're thinking that's so late that it's practically early, but really, for me, it is very early.

And then I woke up at 9, all startled and out of a dream, and went to take care of those things that require doing first thing in the am, and then went back to bed. Tried to find my orange bandana (aka. blindfold), couldn't. Fell asleep anyway (also unusual). Woke up, again startled out of a dream, at 11:45.

So that means I got, like, nine hours of sleep. That's almost twice what I've been typically able to manage the last month. I feel like I'm underwater now, which is interesting given that the last dream I had was about swimming in a saltwater pool, and then jumping into a chlorinated pool with my backpack on. And shoes.

Soanyway, I am in something of an altered state. Sleepy/mellow overlaid on incredibly stressed out. I think I was trying to sleep myself into a different life.

But you know, I actually really like most aspects of my life. Okay, some aspects of it.

I like where I live. I like my little cat (most days) a lot. I love love love my bicycle (you knew that was coming).

I like my apartment a great deal; it's lovely and just the right layout for me, and my views are pleasant and green.

I love my friends, and a bunch of them have moved back to the city in the last couple of years, so we are all kind of a happy converged posse. I love not going into an office every day. I love not getting up early (duh).

Here's what I need to escape: work. It's been bad lately. Oh so very bad.

So bad that I need to change the subject. Right now.

Okay, so tomorrow I have planned the following:

a) tie dyeing with two of the aforementioned friends. One of them lives in a work/live space, which is nice and industrial/grungey - perfect for tie-dyeing.

b) bowling. Ha!

Much better.

Okay, then the other news (and this is rather big, in a tiny way) is: I am knitting socks. Well, sock. Yes, and if that weren't big enough, I am doing it via Magic Loop! Yawn, I know, you experienced sock knitters, you. But you see, I have tried this before. I tried and failed to do Magic Loop on some Lornas Laces about a year ago, and I just couldn't get the method to stick in my head. I did about an inch of ribbing, and then put it down and promptly forgot what the hell I was doing, and couldn't figure it out again.

Then a few weeks ago I went and learned the 2 circs method, and somehow that made Magic Loop make sense to me. Go figure. Of course, some of us will not be surprised by the reason I chose to do ML instead of just continuing w/ 2 circs: it's cheaper to buy one needle than two. Plus, in my case, I can't seem to remember that yarn stores exist after about April 25th, and I already had one long size 1.

Blah blah blah. Knitrivia. What can I say? It's been a long week.

PS. Almost forgot crucial info: The yarn is Colinette Jitterbug, in Castagna (128), the exact blend of purples and browns that I've been favoring lately.

Okay, okay. I got nothin'. So I will try to regale you with selected excerpts.

I still hate my work. But I need the money. What else is new.

My friend Special J has designed an extensive questionnaire that I am to hand out to first dates at the 90-minute mark (assuming they last that long). She apparently roped some geek-date of hers into formatting the thing with proper checkboxes and all. She has magic powers.

I am busily knitting lots of little projects on 2 circs, but I have yet to get some tiny needles for sockmaking. I just keep forgetting to hit a knitting store. That happens to me in spring. I forget they exist. I'll wait while y'all make a grab for the oxygen.

Better? Okay. Too bad one can't install smelling salts as an option in Movable Type.

Current project is a shoulder-strap pad for my bike bag. Yes, yes, it's still all about the bike, and always will be, if I have anything to say about it.

I was trying to explain to a potential date about the bike-love, but I don't think he got it. I mean, he's a fellow cyclist and all, but when I mentioned that I sometimes kiss the top tube after a ride, I could just hear him getting weirded out. Through email.

The only person who's yet gotten it is this guy, whom I met at an event appropriately titled Bicycle Fetish Day. He really got it. I asked him to tell me about his bike, and he started out by saying, somewhat abashedly, that he's become obsessed with it. He can't stop thinking about it. He can't focus on work. He doesn't want to do anything other than ride it, all day every day.

I smiled and nodded, and told him about my bike, and how he has a name, and how every time I am going down the big hill on the bridge, I yell the bike's name as a rallying cry.

The bike-obsessed man appeared to melt and laugh and relax all at once, and we had a nice few moments, and I took his picture* and then I went over and talked to some other bike fiends. I mean, bike friends. Yeah, that's what I mean. Uh-huh.

*I hope Brown Bike Man doesn't mind me posting his picture. I forgot to ask his permission. His bike is brand-new (in a sense; it's a custom build-up from an older frame, I believe), and really nice. Graceful lines, and a lovely shade of brown.

PS. I see in this picture now that Brown Bike Man was rather handsome, and that perhaps I should have asked him out.

Often when spring hits I lose all desire to knit. But this time - perhaps because the weather continues to be intermittently cool, especially after the sun drops down - I am experiencing a late-season surge in knitting.

In a small way, of course. I haven't been working on my sweaters-in-progress or anything, but the legwarmers are done, and I am already working on another small project.

I am digging the two-circs method, and as soon as I get around to buying some size 1s or 0s I can start those momentous First Sox. (Already have plenty of sock yarn, natch.)

I had a big, long, rather fraught day, the details of which I will not go into, except to say that I tried and failed to fix part of my bike using a bolt and a can of Guinness. Just the can; the Guinness I drank last night in preparation.

I'd planned a triumphant and hilarious play-by-play of my amazing McGyverlike powers, but alas, 'twas not to be. That's okay. It would have pegged the sillyometer right off scale (not that that is a bad thing).

So now I am enduring the horrible ads for those egregious videos of college girls disrobing in assorted drunken stupors, which is pretty much what the Spike channel advertises at this hour, again and again. Geez. What a girl has to do to watch a little Star Trek.

In other news, I was totally suckered into ordering some "Imps" from here, and I am excitedly awaiting their arrival. It will be a while; apparently they have a backlog. Probably Juno's fault; she writes so eloquently about perfume that I can't imagine anyone not being drawn under her spell.

Then again, the names of their scents are enough to lure anyone with half an imagination. Carnal. Cheshire Cat. Forbidden Fruit. Libertine. Dragon's Blood. Venice. Lightning. Delirium. Ophelia. I mean, c'mon!

Spring, and a Girlwich's thoughts turn to (in no particular order):

1. Legwarmers. I have finished the brown ones and am currently wearing them (or I'd take their photo for you). They are wonderful. I want to wear them all the time. Because that would lead to smelly legwarmers, I have already begun knitting Pair #2, in a pretty pinky/purpley Lornas Laces DK called Valentine I received from Anna a wee while ago. Anna, they're going to be beautiful.

2. Birds. My cat would like me to mention that. It is highly amusing and/or endearing to watch her get all excited about the increased bird noise and activity around our windows. She chatters at them; she lies in wait, hunkered down on the window ledge; she takes sudden leaps into the screen. It's hilarious.

And I quite like going to bed to the sound of birdsong. Yes, Annabelle, I am going to bed at your wake-up time again. Really folks, it's a hoot; A. will text me sometimes when she's just woken up, and I get the text in bed, having just laid down to sleep. And we have a little chat, and she goes to work and I go to dream about #3:

3. Boys. You knew that one was coming, didn't you? Been getting some entertaining emails from a new one, whom I've not met yet. But at least his emails are interesting - more imaginative than the usual lot. Also, there are the fleet of adorable bike boys who hover like a crowd of angels or elegant moths in the vicinity of my bike shop. Sigh. I wonder how many of them I could fit in my messenger bag.

4. There are cherry blossoms in Central Park now. All of a sudden, boom. Explosions of fluffy whiteness everywhere. Like snow laid on by fairies. (I know, I am getting fanciful, but you should see them.)

5. God-damned awful work schedule keeping me from enjoying all of this a bit more, but I suppose I am lucky to have the work. When I did my taxes and looked at how much I made last year, I was shocked, and couldn't understand how I'd actually managed to survive on so little in such an expensive town. I guess I must be better at managing money than I'd thought. Or else I wiped out more savings than I thought. Or a little from column A and a little more from column B. Anyway. Let's just leave #5 by the side of the road and hope it gets run over by a local bicycle team, shall we?

6. Not entirely unrelated to #3 (math geeks, there is a joke in here for you): I have a few additions to The List. Item the First: David Oyelowo. Oh my fracking god.

Item the Second, Robson Green. I know, I've mentioned him before; he's been at or near the top of my list for years, but his series is back on with new episodes, and I am getting a fix every Sunday night, so I must present him again for your enjoyment.

Items the Third and Fourth, Sam Troughton and Jonas Armstrong, who play Much and Robin, respectively, in BBCA's retelling of Robin Hood as a form of teen rebellion. It's marvelous, and the concept works, and it has a lively, independent Marian in it, too. FYI, I put Sam first because I find him hotter, despite his being relegated to the status of sidekick.

And while I am slavering over BBC actors, puckish little Burn Gorman from Torchwood is a bit of alright, too.

Since it is spring, I am taking open nominations for new List members. Vote early and often, my friends. Tell me whom you love and why I should love them, too. In fact, let's make it a meme. Give us your To Do Lists, be they ever so quirky, kinky, or plain. Please alert me if you blog about your list, because I love to read such scurrilous matter. Behold, it's a Rite of Spring!

* The title of this post is a Nemo quote, from Dude Crush the turtle. He's on my List, too.

Gak! I have written and rewritten this post three times already. Sometimes nothing seems good enough for the outside world. All my efforts seem to fall flat, like those banners in Soho that have holes cut in them to let the wind come through so they don't topple the poles to which they are attached and fall on unsuspecting pedestrians below.

But really, that's not what happened today. What happened today was:

1. I got the cranks I desperately - oh so desperately - needed. I won't actually have them in hand for probably another week, but I am guessing that even if my knees agreed to let me bicycle, my shoulder would have something to say about it. So to wait another week is probably a good thing. In theory. In reality, I am like a racehorse that's not getting taken out to run. Ever see one of them? No? Okay. Ever see one being put into the starting box and freaking out and trying to leap vertically up and out of it so it can run free? Yeah. That's me, all right.

Anyway.

2. I got the deadline extension I so desperately needed. Not as long an extension as I had hoped, but I think it will be enough. And she was pretty nice about it. (Thank you, oh client lady. A blessing on both your publishing houses. And so on.)

3. I went for a walk in the park, and there were daffodils. Daffodils are just excellent.

4. My long-dreaded tax bill, while it is higher than I can actually pay at the moment, is so much lower than I was afraid of that I practically did a jig when I got the package from my accountant. (Note: I did not quite actually jig, because of all my various injured bits, but under normal circumstances I damned well would have. I like jigs.)

5. The new season of BSG starts tonight, and I have much geekery goodness to look forward to in a mere 3 hours and 50 minutes. And BSG has been getting me through my long work sessions all week, because the beloved Sci-Fi channel has been playing reruns from last season from like 1 am to 3 am, which is perfect for my work-till-1-am schedule.

6. If you made me blonde and changed my facial structure a bit, I think I'd look just like Starbuck. Well, okay, my tattoos are different than hers, but you get the idea. She's a swimmer, you see. And she rocks so hard. So...well, I am just saying. I pretty much am Starbuck, minus the drinking problem and extreme self-destructiveness. Okay then, I'll be getting into my Viper now. See y'all later.

PS. Look-look! I finished my first legwarmer yesterday. It fits, sorta.

PS2. I spoke to my bike builder on the phone, which just cheered me up by proxy somehow. He was all excited about the cranks, too. See? GEEKERY.

PS3. A big thank you shout-out to Boywich, who handled the cranks transaction for me as partial repayment of a debt. It was fun to get text messages about cranks that were made before cell phones were even a twinkle in Alexander Graham Bell's ghostly eye.

So I was at the pool the other day, and a woman asked me where I get my bathing suits. "Depends. Sometimes I order from Amazon, sometimes I buy from a swim-specific place."

"How much?"

"Well, I just ordered some new ones - they were on a good sale. About $45 each."

"Forty?! I paid four dollars for this," she said, holding a dripping leotard (clearly not an actual swimsuit) right in my face while I was in the shower.

Now, let's just look separately, for a moment here, at the fact that this woman was invading my shower stall with her naked body (I was wearing my suit; I shower for real when I get home) to ask me the question in the first place.

Oy.

I mean, NYC is a big object lesson in losing your personal space and freedoms in all kinds of ways, but there really ought to be a limit. And I'd like to draw mine at the door of my shower, thank you very much.

Then there is the whole other question of Getting What You Pay For. On that subject, I am about to descend into hitherto unheard-of regions of bike geekdom. Because My Goddamned Knees Hurt. Like Hell. Every fracking day, and for several days after each bike ride, no matter how careful I am, despite my new easier rear cog.

So here we go, with the discontinued obscure expensive-as-hell cranksets in impossible-to-find short lengths. Here we go with the Q-angle, and the vintage parts market, and ohmygodI'vebecomeabonafidenutcase.

But it's not for the esoteric love of vintage parts (not that there's anything wrong with the esoteric love of vintage parts, mind you). It's because, as I keep plaintively crying to Boywich on the phone at all hours of the day, "The world does not fit me!"

Waaaaaah.

Anyway, now that I've got that off my proverbial chest, I can tell you that I have knit eight whole inches of a legwarmer. Whoop de dooh.

And I have to get back to work.

This will have to be short, since I am wiped out. The brilliant combination of very little sleep (even for me), a long night of tax crunching, a long day of this and that, the kind of work-perfect-storm where your head just explodes and explodes and explodes some more, and lots of knee pain in payment for yesterday's ride has me ready to just collapse.

But I wanted to tell you this: I learned a new trick, which does not happen to me that often in the knitting realm, not because there aren't tons of knitting techniques that I don't know how to do, but because I tend to just keep to the known universe when it comes to knitting. I am weird like that.

I do not know how to make cables, and I have never tried. I have never knit a sock. I have never successfully knit anything out of lace. And I tend to avoid patterns that require seams, even though I know damn well how to wield a sewing needle.

I may be adventurous as all hell in other areas of life, but as a knitter, I am a stick in the mud.

So, in that vein, I have begun knitting a pair of legwarmers that are pretty much exactly the color of mud. And sticks. Well, but they are pretty mud and sticks, you see. A lovely variety of browns from Briar Rose Fibers.

I don't have photos of any of the knitting I'm working on right now (I also have a brighter pair of legwarmers and Snow White on the various needles), but the big news about these particular brown 'warmers is that I am knitting them using 2 circular needles, which is a technique I'd never tried before. After attempting to learn Magic Loop and failing to get the hang of it, I wasn't all that wowza about doing the 2 circs thing, but someone convinced me to learn it as part of the Learn to Knit Socks Already initiative. Well, the socks will have to wait till I've got enough legwarmers to see my biking self through the spring, but step 1 has been accomplished. I have about 2 inches worth of ribbing done, so I think I can officially say that I've learned the technique.

All very exciting for you sock-making, lace-knitting, cable-contortionist fiends, I am certain.

But that's all I've got right now, gang. That and a bunch of complaints and tiredness and yearning for milder weather.

Knees are somewhat better today, and I went swimming, and then I had peanut butter and banana and honey and tea, so you know, there's all that.

I also took a pic of my new hat. It's simple, it's ribbed, it might look better if it had a little i-cord something or other on top, but I thought I might try wearing it under the bike helmet, so I left it plain on top.

In other rib-knitting news, I have decided fuck the tubular cast-on. I am just gonna knit Snow White with my regular long-tail cast-on, or maybe a cable cast-on (which I successfully taught myself yesterday while trying unsuccessfully to learn the tubular), and I'll maybe use needles a size bigger or something. I don't care, and this annoying cast-on is delaying my access to the pretty sweater, so off with its head!

For the record, I am not going off completely half-cocked here; I checked Ravelry last night at 3 in the morning and did find someone who'd made a perfectly nice Snow White with a regular ol' cast-on, and I do not generally have a problem with casting on too tightly. So there we are.

Incidentally, I want to point out that the expression half-cocked most probably derives from old-style firearms, which I don't think will shoot half-cocked. (Yep, I was right.)

In any case, I have shot a firearm of this type, and, well, now you know: I know how to shoot. Add that to your list of freaky things you'd rather I didn't discuss here. But, hey, I figure if you wanted to be reading a PG-13 type of blog, you'd have left long ago. (Byeeeee! Have a nice trip...)

Anyway....yeah, rifles. Yarn. Cat asleep on couch, as per usual. I'm gonna go swatch some Classic Al now. Well, after I finish that work I owe that client. And maybe write a poem to end this completely inane and aimless post.

Later: Work done, but sorry, no poem. But I got to talk to my bicycle mechanic about crank length. He was up till 2 am researching cranks for me. Now, that is the way to a girl's heart.

"Where is fancy bred? In the heart or in the head?" - William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice. Also, Willy Wonka, in his Chocolate Factory.

More adventures with my darling Nikon, and a ride over bridge and dale to meet the fair Annabelle for dinner and wine. And a stop at the bike shop to chat with the friendly neighborhood Bike Boys, in all their slim legged glory (hubba). And some work on my novel. And some knitting with pretty girls in a bar.

And...why oh why isn't this the way every day goes? Okay, yeah, that was two days' worth of stuff, but you know what I mean.

Annabelle said, "You're silly when you're on the bike."

And I said, "Well, I get a little giddy, maybe."

But the truth is, I can't quite sort out whether it's the rush I get from being back on my favorite mode of transportation, the wee little bits of endorphins it affords me, or the special bikemen brand of testosterone that I keep getting high on whenever I am in that bike shop. Whatever it is, I like it. I like it very much.

I also like getting creative work done, especially when it includes three of my favorite pastimes (writing, taking photographs, and knitting).

I am almost done with a new hat, which is Malabrigo repurposed from an abandoned fingerless mitten concept. I got one mitten done, wasn't happy with the fit, and determined that really, the yarn wanted to be a hat, and the fingerless mittens wanted to be made from something DK. And within minutes (or so it seemed) two skeins of beauteous DK weight yarn appeared in the mail.

I am revving up to start work on Snow White. It's that darned tubular cast-on that's been intimidating me, but I will just have to blindfold my fear of it, and get on with it. And that's really all I have to say for now. I am not feeling replete with wordyness, but I have lots of pics to show you. I guess I shall have to dole them out over a few days.

Oh, and hey, did everybody see the eclipse? An eclipse in a clear sky and something like five inches of snow, all in one weekend. Not too shabby for boring ol' February.

PS. The title of this post refers both to the photos (natch) and to what seems to be happening to me lately. Somebody's been clicking my embiggen switch. And I think that somebody is ME.

Wow, right? This incredibly gorgeous yarn was sent to me by Anna, who shall henceforth be known as Incredibly Generous Anna. Those are two skeins each of Lorna's Laces Shepherd Worsted in Lakeview, and Lorna's Laces Swirl DK in Valentine. And the colors are even more vibrant and lovely in person. Sigh. They are now sitting in a pile on my chair looking like candy.

She also sent me a soy candle which melts into massage oil. How freakin' cool is that whole concept? And a carry-your-knitting bag from Loopy Yarns. And Miss Kitty got her very own care package, too, comprised of a pair of excellent woolly catnip mice (she went right for them) and a passel of nice and smelly dried fish (which we may be sharing with our neighbor cats, as she kind of licked them and then walked away, which just proves the eternal unpredictability of cat behavior).

Thank you, Anna!!! I think I may have to cast on for some Swirl mittens right this very minute.

It's been a week of realizing that there are real people out there reading these words, just as I am reading theirs, and that we all interact in this strange blind cocktail party that is the Internet. And though it often seems like science fiction, or that we're all characters in a book, we are instead this queer brand of friends who've simply never met. I suppose it is nothing new - penpals have been around for ages, and in the days before quick and (relatively) easy travel, friends who lived in different towns would go months or years between visits.

So maybe it's not so odd.

But it feels odd. Like the magic that allows strangers on a train to get to know each other in an afternoon. Or how I walked into a certain bike shop and suddenly felt right at home. Lately all of human interaction seems a blur and a conundrum to me. I just feel dizzy with it. I fall in love at the drop of a hat - or into infatuations that are hard to explain. I make big decisions on a dime, and stop momentarily to wonder, and decide that it just feels right, and proceed full steam ahead.

The only constants are wind and water and me and my cat. And the cat and I are given to strange nocturnal activities. I find myself dancing on the subway platform a lot lately.

I've been doing a fair amount of knitting behind the scenes here chez girlwich, though I keep forgetting to photograph it and/or post the pics when I've taken them.

For instance, I made a rather cute little lavender garter-stitch heart pillow for my mom, but it's already been packed and shipped and unwrapped and exclaimed over, so no pic of that. But I guess when you've seen one lavender knitted heart, you've probably seen them all.

There's also the drop-stitch scarf, which was completed sometime last week, and washed and blocked (as much as I ever block anything, which is admittedly not much) and worn and admired by all and sundry. Okay, by two local knitting buddies.

I made myself take some pics, finally, once there was enough sunlight in this apt to do so (it's been a grey, rainyish, snowyish, icyish week, for the most part). And here's one of them, at least. I won't know until I finish this post whether you get the other one also, which just shows the end with the ruffled edge I decided to put on to firm up the drop stitches. It came out rather nice, though of course not especially square or perfect. But then, I am not much of a perfectionist - well, as a knitter, anyway. Other areas of life we can discuss at another time.

And now I am knitting some fingerless mittens, in still more Malabrigo (yes, I know, I have a lot). For two reasons: one, because I only have one pair of fingerless, and if I should (perish the thought!) lose one of them, I am screwed. Also, two, because I need a portable project to carry with me hither and yon. What's that you say? Sox! Yes, sox, of course, but I need a mindless portable project for those times when I am sittin' with the girls drinking alcohol or caffeine in liquid form and knitting away.

And First Sox do not a mindless project make. While mittens aren't quite mindless, I have done enough of them to not get massively confused if my attention strays onto more-interesting topics than row counts. Boys, for example. Bicycles. The various merits of 1/8 in. chains as opposed to 3/32 in. chains. To teflon tape or merely to pack the threads with grease.

Don't worry, the girls don't know what the hell I am talking about when I get like that, either. But it floats my boat.

"Engines make her hot!" - Serenity's first mechanic, referring to his soon-to-be replacement, Kaylee.

"You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise. Like a summer with a thousand Julys."

"You give me fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight. Fever in the morning and fever all through the night."
Today is one of those Mondays that seems to have an atomic weight of 50, compared to ordinary Mondays, which have atomic weights of 30-35, and to ordinary other days, with their weights of 25, and ordinary lightweight Fridays, with their weights of 18-20.

The sky is grey and low. The cat is alternately hyperactive, needy, skittery, and purrful. I am slow and tired and on a slow angry burn about something that has little to do with current circumstances and much to do with my heavy, heavy past.

It is no wonder, I thought earlier today, that I seem to have an urgent need to be physically strong. I am perpetually carrying giant rocks around. I'd like to hurl them at something and watch them smash. Well, I am working on that.

"Here's how to be an agreeable chap: Love me and leave me in luxury's lap....When I say, 'do it,' jump to it!"

So here is the on-the-train project I've been working on in bits and drabs (that phrase being my own concoction compounded of dribs and drabs and bits and bobs, methinks). The beautiful Verde Esperanza crack (Malabrigo) wanted to be a drop-stitch scarf when it grew up (it told me so), and I am liking the result so much that I am not even going to weave anything into the dropped stitches a la Bob + Weave, as I'd originally planned. It reminds me of waves, and I am way into waves lately.

"And if I fell into the spell of your call, I'd be caught in the undertow."

Sure do wish y'all could hear what I hear sometimes. Today it is Shirley Horn, giving a little maniacal laugh at the end of that song.

PS. In case you are wondering, those pale weights holding down the edges of the scarf so you can see the dropped stitch portions are two of three beachrocks that my neighbor brought me a while ago as a thank you for looking after her cats.

Today (I call it today until I go to bed, which gives me a little extra leeway) is the annual virtual poetry reading for St. Brigid's Day, and so I am putting up another.

But before that, a few important things that happened today:

I got invited to join Ravelry.

I got my yarn for Snow White (it is perfect).

I went out to brunch and ended up spontaneously spending the whole day out with the girls, meandering from eating place to haircut to eating place to shopping place to eating place. I am now very, very full. Overfull. Ouch.

I have sworn off pursuing boys. I am tired of the fuss and the nebulousness and the frustration. We came up with several good shorthands for this, which I will not at the moment share here, but suffice it to say, I had a moment in Ricky's where I was laughing so hard I was doubled over. And then I looked at a robot t-shirt and bought some sugar scrub. So I can have incredibly soft skin that no boys will get to enjoy. Also, earlier, I bought two more "date tops." Yeah, so that swearing off is going really well for me.

And so to the poem.

Cream, she said, and ran her
eyes into his stars
his legs tangled in a weedy
mess along hers
the dark blanket a forest
for them to chew into

The sudden dearth
his arms gone and then fluttered into birds
So many damn birds
All that's left after a rain
is chatter and flight.

copyright 2008 Lizbon Grav. All rights reserved.

I saw Sarah Jessica Parker on the street, suckling at a cigarette as if it were her last meal. At first I thought it couldn't be her (though it looked a lot like her), because she looked awful - creepy almost.

Then I remembered the Rule of Celebrities. Which is, roughly speaking, if you spot someone in NYC who looks like somebody famous, it is usually them. To wit, my two Lance sightings. On the first one, my eyes registered that it was Lance, but my mind talked me out of it. The second time there was no mistaking him, which made me realize that the first time, I hadn't seen "some guy who looked like Lance"; I'd seen Lance.

I think we expect celebrities to look luminous, the way they do on magazine covers and in movies - to look different than we do. So their reality looks too small to be believed.

In a similar way, things like Writing Novels for A Living look too big for a regular-sized human like me to be able to accomplish - even though I know in my head that the people who do that for a living aren't any bigger than I am. (I refer here to psychic size rather than physical height, for those of you who are snarkily giggling behind their hands right now.)

Eh. In other news, I am considering converting my road bike to a fixie. You know why? Let me give you a list.

A) Because when I went for a ride, my chief complaint (apart from frozen feet because my bike shoes are held together by electrical tape) was that it wasn't enough exercise.
B) Because I really kind of dig tinkering with my bikes.
b-sub1) Because I get to play with tools.
b-sub2) Because I know for a fact that a girl working on her own bike = hotter than hot.
b-sub3) Because it is very satisfying to fix something myself.
C) Because I have always hated my drivetrain.
D) Because there is just nothing cooler than a road bike converted to a fixie, except:
d-sub1) A road bike converted to a fixie by the girl riding it.
E) Because, when I mentioned this plan to Boywich (soliciting his advice on the conversion because he knows about such things), his response was: "Well, if you meet a cute fixie-riding boy and tell him you did the conversion yourself, he will cream his shorts immediately."
*Side note: I love Boywich.

PS. These pics are Rhinebeck leftovers. I still have a camera, and I even have new yarn to photograph, but I am too tired/lazy/rained-on (take your pic - ha ha) to take new pics. And really, who can argue with pretty wool?!

There's a phenomenon among people of my generation that's been described as "tribe formation." In simple terms, it means that people my age (roughly members of Generation X, for those who are wondering) have a tendency to form strong bonds with their friends, and to view them in a way that previous generations might have reserved for biological relatives.

There are plenty of reasons for this, some sociological, some to do with individual personalities. In my case, it's largely a function of my innate longing for solitude, combined with a desire to spend my time mostly with the few humans whom I feel understand me - or at least part of me. It's not so much likeminded souls, as that implies that I only want to be around people who share my opinions on everything, and really, I often find it more interesting when my friends have different ideas, because then we can discuss.

But to put it more succinctly than I have in the past two paragraphs, I have tended to choose friends over family whenever I had a choice. That's changed a bit in recent years, as I've developed different, more interesting, richer relationships with everyone in my immediate family, but I still really, really dig my friends. I choose them carefully, and I tend to have a few close ones rather than a passel of arm's length pals.

Anyway, several things occurred today that put my friends front and center in my mind. And funnily enough, they coincided with a bunch of crazy things happening in my family that are gonna require my immediate attention and a significant expenditure of energy.

#1: (yeah, you knew there was some kind of list coming, didn't you? even though I hadn't necessarily foreseen it myself): This post of Shannon's. Yes, that was me, and it was a secret Rhinebeck gift I'd been sitting on for a few months waiting till I'd finished her friend's cap and finally, finally got to send.

#2: This post of Cari's, which I think is just an incredibly neat idea, and a swell piece of writing to boot. I may have to do that sincerest form of flattery thing at some point and start posting little tidbits of my own, because the concept rocks.

#3: I started some zippity knitting on the Welcome Back scarf (cue the Mr. Kotter theme for those of you who are old enough and/or nerdy enough to remember it; the blonde could sing all the words, I am sure - not so much because he is nerdy [he isn't] but because he has a weird talent for knowing the words to television songs), having realized that Friday is the recipient's birthday, and would be an appropriate time to present her with said present.

#4: I have recently realized that most of my closest friends now live in the city, following several years of diasporic tendencies. This is a very hopeful feeling, especially since one of the things I used to find hard about being here was the random loneliness that would hit and hit hard. It still does, to be honest, but it's less of a strain when there are things like birthday parties and dinners at friends' apts and movie nights and wine nights and so on to look forward to.

#5: My sister needs my help, and I have to go help her. I would honestly rather stay home, but she is scared, and I would be, too. And I love her. So there will be late-night posts from the lavender room in her pretty house.

It's weird, the ways of friends and families, and maybe it doesn't matter where the people who enter your heart come from. It's more important that they're there, isn't it? (That goes for rambunctious, affectionate, darling, demented little cats, too.)

PS. Oh gad, how could I forget today's most important detail! I ordered this for Snow White, and many thanks to Shan (she of #1, above) for lending me her Ravelry account so I could do research! So helpful. And so much frickin' fun that I put myself on the waiting list, at last.

PS2. A couple of longtime readers (bless your hearts; I love you) have asked what happened to my nearly two years' worth of old posts (yikes; time flies and all that). They do still exist (um, I think) somewhere on my messy server, and they will eventually reappear properly archived right here on our stage, but I have to cut-and-paste them all in by hand, for reasons best known to Movable Type and best quietly ignored by the rest of us, lest they waken the sleeping tiger in my breast and I go on rampage against the vagaries of technology and generally just tear up the joint.

PS3. The subtext of items 1 and 2, is, of course, that I have been noticing that some blog friends can turn into real-world ones, and I find that both remarkable and lovely.

Really. I walked so far that the little nubbly treads on the bottom of my left shoe had worn down by about 1/2 inch by the end of it. When I got to my spa appointment (nothing luxurious, I assure you), and the technician asked me if I'd done my run today (she knows my ways), and I told her, no, but that I'd walked 140 blocks, her eyes just about fell out of her face.

Then she told me, merrily, about her clients who'd complained about having to walk 7 blocks from the subway. I guess she's been beautifying a fleet of suburbanites lately. We had a lovely little chat while she inflicted a little pain on me (as gently as possible; she is really, really nice), and then I went home on slightly tired legs.

Earlier today I found the very perfect yarn (yes, I know, perfect can't be modified, but I am being creative) for a friend's Welcome Back to NYC - We Missed You Honey! scarf. But still no Snow White yarn. I went to three yarn shops, looked at Cascade 220 (nice-ish colors but maybe not soft enough for against the skin), Pear Tree Merino (drab colors and too inclined to pill), Cashmerino (trop cher), Manos (not soft enough, and the handpainted is probably wrong for this project, as much as I adore watching colors shift as I knit), various pretty Italian merinos that would bankrupt me, and so on.

At home, I got back on the Interweb and looked again at the Kathmandu Aran, the Elann Sierra Aran, the Peruvian Highland, the Swish (yeah, still not jazzed about those colors; I should offer to do color development for Knitpicks - they need me!), sidled on over to kpixie and eyed both the expensive and the less expensive options. It's a conundrum. If it's soft enough, it's too pilly or too expensive or both. If it's cheap enough and study enough, it isn't soft enough. If it manages to be soft enough and relatively sturdy and relatively affordable, the colors leave me cold.

Goodness me, I have really never had this much trouble choosing a yarn before. I know that phrasing sounds uncharacteristic (when have you ever heard me say "goodness"?), but I feel quite out of my depth, and it seems to call for language I'd never use. I suppose there isn't really a tremendous rush about it, but it would be nice to get this project underway while the weather is still cool enough to tangle with wool.

In the meantime, there are two scarves and a First Pair of Socks to get on with. Yes, I also bought sock needles.

PS. I am well aware that this is the largest number of knitting posts I have probably ever created in such a short span of days, and I have no idea why that is so, other than that I have grown weary of talking (or even thinking) about boys and am taking a break from all that for a while. In theory. Also, I suppose I had some sort of interesting thoughts as I walked and walked and walked, and there was a relaxing solitary dinner in my current favorite restaurant, in which I managed to order exactly what I wanted (I am not always capable of identifying it in the moment of ordering), and to sit for as long as I liked without feeling terribly awkward for being sans companion or book, and it all just Went Well for once.