Unfurnished Brooklyn

The sea was angry that day, my friend...

Sundays are usually reserved for father and daughter: I get to zone out with a movie while Cheb and Beavis go do whatever it is they do together. But as I haven't heard from Beavis in three weeks, I needed to come up with some activity that wasn't too tiring for me, but would distract Cheb from the fact that once again she wouldn't see her father.

It started out innocent enough: brunch in Sheepshead Bay. Cheb is on her own version of the Atkins diet and refuses to eat any bread, so we smuggled out the toast to feed to the swans. (A question: did I break any dietary laws by having bacon with my challah french toast? Just asking.) After feeding the swans, we walked over to the fishing boats to see the fish on display. There were two boats there about to leave for a half day of fishing. The mates were on the street, hustling people on to their boats. Cheb and I were hustled. I dashed into the store for some Dramamine, sandwiches, water, soda, and snacks, and off we went.

Cheb did well. Either that Dramamine was fast-acting, or she simply doesn't get seasick. The waters were rough, but she handled it well: walking around, stuffing her face, asking a zillion questions about fishing and boating. There was one moment where she ended up in my arms crying: someone had committed the egregious error of looking at her. A blueberry Poptart cleared that up.

Okay, what's the deal with sea robins? Never seen'em before, and now I've seen ten. Cari knew exactly what I was referring to in my previous post, and Jessica even gave me a link. On the boat, at least nine were caught and thrown back. I did get to feel'em up a bit. I'm fascinated by them. I think I'll put an intarsia sea robin on my next sweater. Ha.

Did I catch any fish? Of course not. Never have, and probably never will. I no longer believe that fishing is about skill. It's all about luck. You'll catch one, or you won't. We were fishing for fluke, and at one point stopped in the middle of a school of bluefish. A big one snagged my bait, tugged the line just enough to let me know he stopped by, and swam off. I'll be back, bluefish. I'll be back.

When we got home, there was a message on my answering machine. Guess who? Go back and read the first paragraph for a clue. Yep. Beavis. Not a peep for three weeks, then he shows up at my door at the usual Sunday time and can't figure out why I'm not there. Doofus. He insisted that he'd left a (not several, just a) message saying he had to work on those Sundays. He also claimed he didn't get any of the messages I left for him. His phone wasn't working, you see. Doofus. What's the Russian word for doofus? I must ask him.

Don't you hear me calling you, Miss Honey?

That song's been in my head all morning. Quite distracting. Maybe it was a defense: today is laundry day, and I often get into some kafuffle at the laundromat. Maybe its the bleach fumes, but people act really weird in that place. I need a good bitch track to gird my loins before doing laundry. BTW, that link ain't exactly work safe.

Yesterday I met my friend D. and her girlfriend E. for lunch. They came out to Coney Island and we ate at Nathan's and then hit the Cyclone. D. moved back to NY after living in California for a very long time. We reminisced about the old Coney Island- the different (and not exactly safe) rides, the other roller coasters that are now gone, and the long dark ramp leading to the Stillwell Avenue exit, at the end of which sat an old, dusty kiosk selling cotton candy, taffy, and candy apples.

We went out onto the pier to see what people were catching on their fishing lines, and saw a young boy catch a very odd looking fish. Kind of like a catfish with wings. I checked online, and the best I could come up with was this, only small and with little spines on its back. I did take a picture with a disposable camera; eventually I'll have it up. That was one weird fish. The kid threw it back.

We then picked up Cheb at her daycare, so I could take her to a party being held in the neighborhood. Funny thing about this party: I read Evil's blog. She was organizing the party, and invited me (and provided Cheb with some way cool party swag). I go, and the entertainment is provided by Marco, Man of Mysteries, an old friend that I'd lost touch with. He informed me that his girlfriend, who I met and became friends with in Brazil, is pregnant (baby sweater, y'all!).

Sing it with me: it's a small, small world!

And in knitting news... I've finished all the pieces for the Kersti pullover. I'll seam it today and knit the hood, and then I can start the Chebwear. I don't have a pattern for her sweaters; I'll wing it. She's been complaining because I haven't started it yet. Wonder if she'll actually wear it when I'm done.

And so it begins... this is going to be an interesting week.

My new look

Yep. Orthodontist visit today. I thought I'd lucked out because I only had braces on my upper teeth. Now that they're nearly in place, time to do a little straightening out of the lower set. They don't need much straightening, but Dr. H. decided I needed to have it done. There was some long detailed explanation as to why, but all I could hear was the 007 theme.

It's not all that bad, though. Compared to the palatal expander.

Darlings, I saw a simply smashing movie today with the simply too too divine Miss Em. Bright Young Things. You simply must see this film; it would be too too bogus not to. Absolutely shymaking if you didn't. I nipped 'round to the bookstore to find a copy of Evelyn Waugh's Vile Bodies but drat the luck, there were no copies. How boring! How will I ever live until I find a copy? I did purchase The Loved One, and found it terribly good.

Almost done with my Kersti jacket: almost on the decreases of the sleeves and then I can start assembling it. There's 4 inches done on the Koigu sock- almost ready to start hassling da Sock Mafia about the heel.

Big Angry Rant

Lovely morning. Birds are singing, sun shining. Turn on the tv to check the news and weather and- my cable is disconnected again. So my first call of the day at 6am is to customer service.

Me: Why is my service off? I did what I was told, I took the receipt showing I paid out to the boonies, I was told you were working on finding my misapplied payment.
Them: We haven't found it. That's why we turned it off: it's past due.
Me: But you have the receipt showing I paid!
Them: Yes, I see here that you brought in the receipt showing that you paid in full. But we still haven't received the payment.
Me: So you acknowledge that I provided you with the receipt for full payment- including the next month just so I wouldn't have any new problems- yet you interrupted me because your authorized payment center doesn't know what they did with my money?
Them: I understand your frustration. But until we receive payment....
Me: OK, I used to work collections. When I received the disconnection notice AFTER I went to your office to show payment, I called and asked if my account could be placed on hold until the payment was found and was told that yes, it would and to disregard the notice. And yet, my service is off.
Them: Because your payment hasn't been received.
Me: You're a fucking idiot, aren't you?

Okay, in truth, I did not say that last part. But I wanted to. I'll call back later and speak to a manager (after I get Cheb off to daycare). But this is simply insane. They lost my payment, ask for proof that I paid, then disconnect me because THEY haven't found it.

I don't need cable, do I?

I'm also p.o.'d because I haven't heard from Cheb's dad in two weeks. The first week, he claimed that he had to work so he couldn't pick her up. This week, I heard nothing. I have no idea where he is. Could be in a ditch, for all I know. This isn't the first time he's done this, by the way. And I'm left explaining to Cheb that he had to work, and that he didn't forget about her.

I took her for a walk yesterday and we ran into a kid from her daycare, and they had a four hour playdate in the park. I wasn't expecting it, so I had nothing to do while they played. No book to read, and (gasp!) no knitting. Four hours sitting in the sun. I was surrounded by Russian grandmas, so no conversation either. When I got home, I looked like a reverse raccoon: my face was darker, except for behind my shades.

This will be a good week. This will be a good week. This will be a good week.

Hey! Cari took a pic of me with a) Poncharlotte, b) my new haircut.

I probably could've blended the colors a little better with the first color change, but there you have it. And I'm very happy with it. I used Stephanie's poncho-izing instructions, and a color combination from Threadbear. I have 6 skeins of a single colorway of KPPPM, and I'm thinking I may make a longer, more dramatic version. Once you get the pattern repeats down, the Charlotte's Web pattern is very simple. It's all about the stitch markers, people.

Which reminds me: this version used a heckuvalotta stitch markers; for a longer version, I'll have to use many, many more. Let me think about this....

Just call me Gin-Gin

On second thought, don't.

But- that was the name on one of the ginger candies my Secret Pal sent. I got an assortment of ginger candies, some ginger shortbread (love ginger, love shortbread- works for me), and a cool hat. I must remember, though: next time, don't open my SP package in front of Cheburashka. Because I'll get jacked. She ran off with the hat.

A very nice hat, too. Made out of Cascade 220. Go on, guess the color. If you guessed ginger, you are correct. The cats loved the eyelash yarn trim, and swatted Cheb on the head trying to get at it. The hat fits, and soon enough Cheb will forget about it and I can reclaim it. Thanks Secret Pal!

I went to KnitNY yesterday to meet with Em and Cari (aka da Brooklyn Sock Mafia). She got me started on a sock in Koigu KPPPM. I've got about 4 inches of sock on two circulars, but its a little annoying because the circ cables are a little stiff. Other than that, this two-circ thing is pretty cool. If these work out well, I'm going to make some cabled wool boot socks. Which is what I've been wanting for ages yet could never find. And I call myself a knitter: why didn't I just make the darn things? But I have the perfect wool in my stash to make them with.

Sock Mafia? More like a sock cult....

Scrambled thoughts.

I spoke with the director (with the Toddler Torquemada present), and let them know I wasn't happy with that particular brand of discipline. It seems to be worked out (for my child at least- who knows if that's still standard for the other kids). Cheb will only be there one more week.

Grad school starts next week. Hokey smokes!! I'm not ready. Haven't even registered (I've an appointment on Monday). I thought it wasn't starting until later in September, and I wanted to go away before Cheb's school starts. Better dust off my brain and think this out.

Go wish Cari a happy birthday!

Yet another day of errands, followed by knitting and coffee. Have a good weekend.

Worst. Mother. Ever.

Okay, today I'm a little less dramatic, but yesterday that's what I felt like.

Cheb had been acting out a little more than usual lately, and not wanting to go to daycare. I talked to her about it, and she was very nonspecific about why. She wet the bed twice in the past week (you see why I was quite willing to carry laundry up the stairs), which is she never does. The second time (night before last) she was half awake and kept saying she's not a baby. After cleaning up, we talked. It turns out that one of the women in daycare has come up with a punishment for the children: they are made to sit in a highchair or take their nap in the room reserved for the very young children. It also explains Cheb's recent aversion to me calling her my baby.

I'm telling you, I sprouted horns and wings and claws and turned into the harpy from hell. But I also felt like crap for not catching on quicker.

We talked about how she is so not a baby. How much she can do, how big she's grown. I also told her that I will speak to the director today about this form of punishment (and how it's having the opposite effect). Last night Cheb seemed better, and even read the bedtime story (Hop On Pop- mostly from memory but dammit I call it reading).

Part of me wanted to keep her home from now on but a) I don't want to teach her that you deal with things by running from them and b) I have things to do. Like an orthodontist appointment today. Ack. But I had already planned to take her out of daycare at the end of August so we can have two weeks of unbridled summer before school starts.

I got some sweet Cash Iroha in the mail- made even more sweeter by the price- to make Williamsro from the second Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton book (thanks again Secret Pal!). I'm stalling on the Klaralund because even though I really like the color, I saw another (new) color that I like even more. So I'm debating keeping the present color for what I intended it for and getting the new color for Klaralund. Mossy green, y'all.

Achy-breaky

My apologies if you now have that horrendous song in your head, but that's how I feel.

The cooties came early this year, and I wasn't prepared to defend myself against them. Cheb had a fever on Friday night which blossomed into a full-on cold. Which she of course passed on to me by giving me big hugs and then coughing directly into my face. Children are sweet and cute and all that, but they can also be rather disgusting.

We stayed in all weekend, facing off a few times when cabin fever set in. After whining that she didn't want to go to daycare anymore, she's now whining because she can't. And yelling at me because I won't let her have caramel syrup for breakfast. Fortunately Nyquil has a high alcohol content. Unfortunately, I don't have any. So I'm relying on pain relievers and my chicken soup (which is 50% garlic).

Lordy. It just occurred to me- is kindergarten worse than daycare for cootie exposure?

I did put Cheb to work last night helping me to wind out all the Kersti I bought recently. So far, I've done the back of my hooded cardigan (from Vogue Knitting), and I've got the two fronts going on one circular. I'm going to make a mini-hoody for Cheb, and a pullover (with an intarsia heart in another shade of Kersti). That's right, I said it: intarsia. What?

Since I don't have access to the real picture, here's an approximation of my new haircut.

I left my wallet in El Segundo

...and someone found it and used it to buy yarn. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Actually, I was very good yesterday at KnitNY: I only bought two skeins of Koigu KPPPPPPPPM just to make a pair of socks.

I'm back (not that any of you knew I'd left). Cheburashka was flinging herself on the couch, wailing "why? Why can it be???" What was wrong? Nothing. She was pretending. I see an Oscar in her future.

Anyway... after KnitNY I picked up cable #3 to finally get the pictures out of my camera. Surely, this one must be the correct cable right? Of course not. I guess I'll have to search online for the specific cable this camera uses (yeah, yeah, I know- should'a done that first). I really want to get these pictures out, because there is an especially cute shot of my new haircut in it. And I don't usually like the way I photograph.

The elevator in my building has been out for 3 days. I couldn't take it anymore and lugged the shopping cart full of laundry down the stairs. I brought it back up in stages. Surprisingly, I feel good. Maybe all these dance classes are doing something for me. That, or this is one big hallucination and I'm actually lying in a heap in the lobby, surrounded by EMT's.

Gotta run, Teen Titans is on.

Song of the day? A tie: El Segundo, and Supersonic.

Reason to be cheerful, part two

(I'll get back to you about part three.)

Got a package from my Secret Pal: ginger Altoids, chocolate, and a cute card. Pal, you're the ginchiest.

I took a little trip to Seaport Yarn today to pick up some more things to send (funny thing about a swap: you can't just sit back and get stuff. You have to send it, too. Who'da thunk it?). It was so hard to resist: one for my Secret Pal, one for me. Two for my Secret Pal, one, two for me. I didn't, okay?

I mean, aside from the Blue Heron chenille incident....

Song of the day: He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother. I have no idea why. Next time I spend the day running around the city, I must have my CD player with me. That's what happens when I don't.

CD player. That's so '90s. Get an iPod, hippie!