Month: January 2007 (Page 2 of 3)

It is so cold in our offices, we might as well make some money on the real estate & hang some meat. Cold storage is an understatement, people. I am |this| close to blasting the Rocky theme song over the intercom as my passive-aggressive form of protest.

Now, some might say this is a fine sort of revenge. Seeing as how at the Last Place I Worked, I kept the thermostat a brisk 60-something or other. My argument was that I was in Hell, and I was simply curious to see if I could actually freeze it over. (Seriously though, my argument was that it was JUST FINE, and my chilly girly neighbors wore sweaters. We had ventilation issues and my office turned into a Crock Pot if we turned it up.) Here, however? It is warm in the summertime and freezing in the winter. My toes haven’t thawed all day. I started visualizing sides of beef hanging from the ceiling, and I’m just waiting to hear someone shout about eating lightning and crapping thunder.

I’m listening to Snow Patrol right now, in honor of the weather. Actually, it wasn’t horrific driving in this morning – but there is a ton of ice/frozen sleet out there. Plus the fact it’s a holiday might have cut down on the number of drivers out there, so I was happy to get to work wreck-less and safe.

The weekend was spent burrowed in. I wore pajamas and hand-knit wool socks all weekend long, venturing out only once, and that was only two steps out the door to put the recycling in its bin. One wayward can fell beyond the bin & skittered into the middle of the driveway, and I called upon my helper dog (Polly) to retrieve it. She thought it was EXCELLENT because it was a can of chicken broth & she made sure to lick it thoroughly before finally picking it up and bringing it to me. That dog loves to fetch! We watched numerous movies, and I knit like a fiend.

Project Updates: I finished the Portland sweater – which I’m wearing today and because they turn the heat way down in the office over the weekend, I am surprised to say I’m still kinda cold. I used the yarn called for in the pattern (Rainbow) & the colorway is the plum combo. I then knit the Lady Detective Hat, in Noro #55, and the only thing I need to call it finished is the buckle that goes on the side. I’ll post a picture of the hat when it’s done – the pattern is from the book Knit 2 Together. THEN I cast on for the Curiously Clever Clogs, in Crystal Palace’s Iceland – colors are hot pink,lime green, and a variegated print that incorporates the pink, green & also purple & orange. There’s beading involved, and the beads I ordered had way-too-small holes to navigate a crochet hook through, but I would not be stopped. Instead, I devised a way to get the damn beads on the bulky yarn, and because I’m stubborn, I continued to do this, despite how much I ended up hurting my fingers! Basically, you can take a piece of monofilament, thread it through your loop you’re about to knit (or purl), then thread both ends through the bead, slide it down, and then tug like hell until it gets onto the yarn & you have enough room to work the stitch! I ended up giving myself some nice cuts that would give your average papercut a run for its money. I’ve hit on an alternative method for the second slipper: use needle-nosed pliers to hold and pull the monofilament. I got part of the first slipper done & my hands hurt so much, I had to set them aside. Enter project #4: another pair of socks, in the luscious Trekking colorway #126 – just like the Brach’s candy. Funny how knitting with the colorway can make you crave the candy! Two of my knitting pals have theirs done – check out the pics: Kyra’s socks here, and Leslie’s socks here! I wound the yarn off into equal balls & thought I’d lined them up perfectly with the pattern in the yarn to have them be identical? Wrong-o! But I’m not going to let that stop me. After all, the point isn’t matchy-matchy perfection! I’m knitting them using a stitch from Sensational Knitted Socks (again, mind you that you check the errata for the book if you use it as more than a stitch reference), it’s the Cloverleaf Eyelet Cable. Gives it just enough of a twist to be interesting, but not too complex. I worked on those during the season premiere of 24 – people, you just do not fuck with Jack Bauer. He can kill a man with his TEETH while handcuffed to a chair. I think he’s about to have a very bad day.

That’s the scoop, Friday’s the big day for the Lasik, and it’s also the day it’s supposed to warm up enough to melt all this nasty stuff. In the meantime, more knitting, more Jack Bauer (tonight!), and more cold. Stay warm!

I watch a lot of Law & Order. CSI, Court TV, A&E – I’ve always loved detective novels, and once I got access to a television, I immediately gravitated to all the criminology-based shows. I am fascinated by the psychology and formation of the criminal mind (and yes, I watch that show, too.)

A young Missouri boy disappeared Monday after school – stepped off the school bus & was gone. A sweet face, 13 years old, beaming up in his school picture, with glasses and a sharp jawline. The news showed the search parties each night, men, mostly, locals, dressed in their camouflage jackets and coveralls, walking shoulder-to-shoulder in the grassy fields near where he disappeared. As each day passed, and the 72-hour mark was hit, I felt that sick feeling in my stomach, that he would be another child gone, snatched and killed. His father on the news, eyes hollow, keeping it together, keeping hope alive, voicing a plea, bewildered this had happened to them.

And then the impossible happened: not only was he found, but another boy, kidnapped four years ago, was also found. James told me as I walked into the living room, they had just broken into the non-stop weather coverage to report it, it had just happened. Then, on the later news, they showed more footage, had more details of the story, you saw the 13-year old smiling as the police escorted him in to the building, and I imagined his father wrapping him in his arms, finally giving in to the fears and sadness in the relief of the moment. We also saw the other boy, taller, unsmiling, walking with another crowd of officers, and I thought of his mother, who must have just spent another Christmas, mourning and hopeful and feeling the hole in her heart that never healed, and I saw their future, an uneasy road, because this boy had grown, has probably been told lies about his parents for the past four years, that they didn’t want him, that they gave him to this evil man, and I can barely bring myself to imagine what he did to him. His first victim had gotten too old, and he needed another. The sense of displacement, even in such a hellish situation, this older boy’s psyche, the work that will have to be done and undone and still, never erased. And I wept for both those families, because of the joy and the fear and the sadness and the pain, so many lives twisted, never to be unbent completely, because of one man’s evil. It’s a misnomer to call it a happy ending – but it’s as close to a miracle as you can get.

The detailed story is here.

Well, we’re getting a nice downpour of freezing drizzle right now, and it’s supposed to be another lovely ice storm for the metro area. We were going to head up to Iowa this weekend, but this, among other reasons, has cancelled those plans.

On the knitting front, one of the Christmas presents I gave our dear friend Roger was the promise of hand-knit socks. I don’t knit socks for people, really, except JWo and me, and then I made a pair for my dad when he was sick, and then a pair for Brenda so she would feel the love and connection that goes into knitting up socks. I also made my mother-in-law a pair for Christmas. So yes, I guess I do knit socks for other people, but not just “OH, hey, would you make me a pair?” or “Could you make some for my Sister-in-law?” They’re only for the near, dear & special. And this includes Roger! I made them in record time – given that they were bigger than the ones I usually make for myself, and how long my Mermaid socks had taken me with paying attention to the pattern. Pictures!

Roger’s Socks, in Trekking XXL #138:

My Mermaid Socks, in Trekking XXL #139:

Oh, and the mohawk? (JWo called me “mohawk girl” this morning) It’s not really a mohawk. But I can get some INSANE bed hair workin’ while I’m sleeping. My friend Beth thought my hair QUITE hilarious when we roomed together on the Kristin Wedding Trip last fall. So I had to incorporate a photo of it into my participation of the 365 Days pool on Flickr. Pretty! But that’s on’y in the mo’nin. Wooowooooo!

If I’ve learned one thing in the short amount of time I’ve participated in this photo pool? It’s that I have absolutely minimal knowledge about photography. I’m awed by some of the stuff out there, it’s just incredible!

If life is like a box of chocolates, then I would like a medium-sized box of original Frango Mints to magically appear on my desk.

Target really should sell them. Wait. Maybe not. Too accessible.

I have such fondness for them – they used to be something we only had at Christmas, as our family friends brought them back from Chicago during the holidays. (My dad & he grew up in Hinsdale.) When I moved to the Twin Cities, they were available at Dayton’s – in so many more flavors. But there’s just nothing like the mint ones, for Original Gangstah Chocolate-Flavored Memories. (OGCFM)

Someone’s ready for lunch.

OK, I’ll get to my eyes in a minute, but right now my dog is lunging after some sort of flying bug that is in the computer room/attic with us, and it’s very distracting. I’m assuming she learned this behavior from Suzy, who is known throughout the midwest for her bug-gettin’ skeelz. I have no idea if she got it at this point. She had it, let it go, and then got it again. I swear, she has half a cat in her.
OK! Back to the regular blogging!

I had my big Lasik eye exam today and yes, I am an excellent candidate for the procedure. It still kinda freaks me out, and it’s not exactly cheap, but then really, do you want to go into the 7-11 for a Slurpee and some quick Lasik with the Extra Taquitos Post-Op package? PRObably not. They dilated my eyes, and I was rather panicked afterwards when they told me they no longer had the undilating/reversing drops. Just my frickin’ luck. Apparently the company who makes it is in some sort of patent feud with another company and they aren’t making it right now, which means I got to drive home doing my own impersonation of The Fly. Look! There’s ELEVENTY lanes to drive on and they’re all shining bright with the evil, evil light. Even now, some 5-6 hours later, my eyes are still sensitive and my monitor is confusing me – is it heaven? Go to the light! Oh, never mind, it’s just the bright white of Blogger.
(See? Still dilated:)

Meanwhile, I am cranking on my friend Roger’s Xmas socks. They are AWEsome. I will put up a picture, along with the mermaid socks I finished last week. Patterned socks (anything beyond our friend Le Rib) take me a lot longer to do, and I was surprised at how fast I tore through his socks. It helps that I have about three projects’ worth of yarn screaming at me to hurry up.

I must end this entry, because Polly has gas and we are in a confined space. Between my eyes and my nose, my body is going to start shutting down in about three….two….one…….

JWo loves to laugh at me. I say things like, “He fuckin’ PLOWED into him!” for a hit he wouldn’t categorize as a PLOWING. Alls I know is, someone knocks my feet out from under me, no matter what sort of helmet I’m wearing, I’ve been plowed.

So, it is with shameless pride & arrogance I give you this screen capture.

Yep, that’s me. Jen$ A$$ Kicker$. My blog-bud Bekah organized a Fantasy Football league last fall and invited me to partake. Now, my exposure to fantasy football thingies in the past consisted of all men, gathering in a room someplace, drinking, eating, whatevering, and talking about individual players spanning the league nonstop for months. All of it booming over my head at sonic speed. So it was simply natural for me to join. And I did, and I made my picks, and then? Then? I thought that was it. Hah! This would explain why, after a couple weeks, I was at the bottom of the league. You have to change your player roster every week, sillies! DUH! (I inserted that for those of you who are more knowledgeable and were already getting dizzy from shaking your head so hard.) Well. I only give you the excuse that I was really busy and I think I was even gone the night we did the actual draft. But all you have to do is fix the gun in my hand for me to take off like a monkey on crack, shooting up the saloon and fruit stand. And with a little advice and guidance from Bekah, I picked up the pace and got, shall we say, a little more competitive. Granted, I can only credit luck for my ultimate win, because I still don’t bother to know everything about everyone in the NFL, and I really only follow the Chiefs.

But the long & short of this story (besides what a fan-fuckin-tastic WINNER I am, so modest and non-preening) is that sometimes the winner is a surprise. And I’m hoping like mad, so hard my fingers ache from being crossed, that we’ll see a surprise tomorrow afternoon when the Chiefs take on Indianapolis, and our amazing playoffs chance lasts a little longer this go-round. If not, well, at least I’m still a WINNER. ME. MMM-HMMM. You could almost say I PLOWED my way through the brackets……

I’ve always loved puzzles. Whether it’s a crossword, sudoku, tetris, or a box of a thousand pieces, the puzz and puzzling of my brain is one of my great joys in life. I tend to approach most everything in life as I do a puzzle: understand the goal/desired result, assess the situation, determine the process, do the work.

Grief, thus far, has eluded me as a tangible, definable puzzle. It has felt like a large blob in Aisle 12, simply awaiting cleanup, and no matter how diligently I mop, scrub or scrape, it replenishes and shifts and changes and morphs and moves as I thrust my hands deep within it and try to find a hold, something to grasp. Because I’ve been searching for clues, trying to find something to give traction, a place to stand and stop falling down.

Yesterday, I left work a smidge early. I was tuckered out and the stress was gone, and I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile. My mind wandered as I drove my familiar road home, and I thought about a couple situations in my life, and as I’ve done so many times before, I thought, “What would dad tell me to do?”

And that’s when it hit me. When I finally found a line, an edge, a shape to at least part of this. An unspoken fear, truth, knowledge and sadness in all of this that finally felt concrete. Because I can’t call him anymore. I can’t ask for his advice, even if I chose not to take it. I knew that, of course. But I realized at the core of this, I’m afraid I won’t be able to be wiser with him gone. Who will teach me, give me the perspective that only time can bring? Who will temper my spluttering, will tell me to calm down, and do so with the wisdom of my father, with the unconditional love of a parent, with the perspective of having known me from my first breath, my first cries, my first steps, my first words? Seeing that stark truth helped some of my grief form under my hand, and I felt the first delineation of an object, of a puzzle piece, an edge of a shape, a shape I hope to see in its entirety someday.

I’m thinking that’s the basic outline of my day. We had our big meeting today, and it went well, overall. Some parts were skeery, some parts were stressful, and my part, at the end, was delivered in high-speed Alvin-and-the-Chipmunks style in the interest of time. Fortunately, I think I skimmed over the less-interesting parts and spent my time on what makes us FABulous. Which is the whole point of sales. Nothing is more unpleasant than having someone read to you. In business anyway. (I just read “Hooway For Wodney Wat!” to JWo the other day.)

Once the meeting was over, Kristin and I went to Imo’s for pizza, and Half-Price Books. I actually didn’t buy any books (a couple cards & a trinkety gift for a co-worker), but Kristin made fast friends with a lady in the crafts section. I walked back to find her & (in a true friend move) left her there. Actually, this woman had the ability to talk without pause. I seriously had to cough/clear my throat to even make my presence known, and she continued to talk talk talk talk talk talk (and breathe, which always mystifies me, how someone can do that and never give you a moment to jump in and say something.)

I’d like to script the rest of my day, which would involve knitting and sleep, with perhaps another meal thrown in there and hugs from my sweetie. I’m just drained from the build-up of nervousness (coffee makes me a might nervous when I drink it, mm-hmmm) and anticipation of today, and now that it’s over, I want to fall down and sleep. Instead, I’m going to make some notes of everything I need to not forget to do, and go see what came in the mail. Slow-n-steady, until I can sleep! The pizza in me isn’t helping on staving off sleep though. Mmmmm. Sleeeeeeep.

These are the only times I really miss my old office, when I’d lie down on the floor & have a chair blocking the door. (I only did it for 10 minutes at a time, but boy, it made such a difference!)