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Inspired (as I often am) by Em, I think I'll actually come up with some resolutions this year. Generally I don't, thinking I'm just gonna break'em anyway and then feel bad about it. But, if I don't have a goal I can't meet it right?
Things have washed away. Photographs, toys, books, children's drawings and their first attempts at writing the alphabet, bowls, combs, dresses, shirts, everything. I look around my cluttered apartment and I wonder how I would feel if I watched it all sweep away in a sudden rush of wild water. There's nothing I can sum up from the depths of my imagination that would compare. Nothing. Not even nightmares that have awakened me, shaking and unsure of where I am, can compare. And even the attempt to understand the feelings of one who stands ankle deep in muddy water looking at the ruin of a home once filled with life and love makes me feel very small.
In the shadow of the growing numbers I feel small.
Things have washed away, yes. But the people... the innumerable people. People who will never know the fate of their loved ones; people who will lie with nameless others in deep graves once associated with the cruelty of men, not of nature. The aged find themselves parents of babies. Children wander in search of their parents. And those who live must set aside their grief in order to rebuild.
And when the water is wrung from the houses, and the cars disentangled from the trees, then what?
Man, I could use some of that. I won't get any, though.
I've been sick for the past week (actually longer: my cough from last month never went away). I could use a break, but I haven't seen Doofstoyevsky in 3 weeks and everyone else is away, or working, or sick. No rest for the wicked weary.
Cheb is off from school this week, and I'm trying to think of things for us to do. Today we went to a Kwanzaa (what's the word- show? event? thingy?) thingy at the Brooklyn Children's Museum, which is where I go when I really can't think of anywhere else. I don't celebrate Kwanzaa. I don't even really celebrate Christmas: I stick some gifts for Cheb under a garish fake tree and call it celebrating. Haven't been to Mass in eons- and I'm not exaggerating at all. But, I'm down with anything involving music and dancing. So off we went.
Tomorrow should be very exciting. Laundry. I have to figure out a way to convince Cheb that doing laundry is a barrel of laughs.
No, it's freakin' HOT.
Maybe I shouldn't complain. There are probably people without any heat at all. But, man is it hot in my apartment. Last week I told my super about the leaking radiator and she sent the plumber (who was working on another apartment) up to fix it. He fixed it by screwing it shut, so I can't adjust the heat.
No problem. I'll just turn off the radiator in the living room and that will balance it out. Not. We are positively broasting in the bedroom. It got so bad that I had to open the window and put in the window fan to bring in some cold air. This is ridiculous.
And I have to wait until next week to get it fixed. Ack.
I finished the teacher's Wavy scarf.
(My walls are not that weird shade of green. I was trying to show the trampy shade of red. I LOVE that red.)
I told Cheb the day before what it was. Of course she told the teacher. Well, I said, at least she doesn't know what color it is. It will still be a surprise. Cheb said, "well, Mom. I got something to tell you. I told her what color it is." At least she doesn't know the scarf is wavy, so... anyway, I hope she likes it.
I was pretty much tired of it. Usually I can bang out scarves quickly, but this one took more time than I had planned to spend. It doesn't help that I've been really selfish about my knitting lately, only wanting to knit for myself. Don't even ask about the second one I was going to knit. Don't even ask.
Today: baking gingerbread cookies to leave out for me Santa Claus. Tomorrow: mustering up the strengthto hang with my family. I almost want this cold I've been fighting to kick in so I don't have to go. Sad, really. But the forced cheer of the holidays bugs me. Maybe I'll have extra helping of rum cake. Hold the cake, please.
No sign of cooties. I may have actually dodged this one.
Anyway, I was fully prepared to watch the extended version of Return of the King: had my knitting ready, big-ass mug of hot chocolate, large block of time to myself. For some reason, I started with one of the documentaries (I usually save those for when I have absolutely nothing else to watch). The sound was off, and the voices were shaky. Hmm. I started the film, and the sound was even worse. Crap.
I ordered it from Barnes & Noble, and this was the second time a dvd I ordered from them was defective. But- the plus side (besides the discount that makes me order from them in the first place) is that I can just exchange it at any of their stores. So I did. I'm going to try again today. My fellow geeks across the country are on their third or fourth viewings and I haven't seen it once yet. Shameful.
I haven't finished the Wavy scarf. I won't have time to make another. I'm thinking of stash-diving and finding some bulky yarn to make a second gift scarf. Or I could just give a nice card. The whole Christmas thing? I'm just not with it this year.
I've had some weird dreams the last two nights. The first, I dreamt I was being sexually harassed by my college professor- who was Alan Alda. Might have to do with Cheb's constant replaying of Free to Be You and Me. Last night I dreamt I was working in a hospital with soldiers returning from Iraq. They were all amputees. I was trying to start a separate program to help them deal with going back into regular society; it was hard trying to convince people that it was necessary. The common response was, "oh they're soldiers. They should just suck it up and deal with it." I ended up marrying a soldier with one leg.
Before bed I read an article about Rummy Rumsfeld and how he's catching hell from all sides, yet probably nothing will happen to him. Figures. Dubya did a crappy job and he got re-elected, so.... Accountability? What's that?
In the comments J Strizzy left a link to an article about the Dyker Heights displays. Much better photos there. Also, if you have a few minutes to kill, check out the photo gallery "Scared of Santa." I haven't laughed so hard in ages.
I feel like a condemned woman. Cheb is getting over a stomach virus, and I know I'm next. I feel fine now (and Cheb is better- it really did last just 24 hours), but I know it is coming. I've had it before (several times- kids are cootie magnets). I'm hoping for a Christmas Miracle. Just this once, can it pass me by?
But then again, if I have to be confined to bed I guess I'm lucky that today I got my Four Disc Special Extended Not Now, Mommy's Getting Her Viggo On DVD Edition of Return of the King. Either way, I'll be busy for the next day or two.
Clapotis, actually.
I used around 3.5 skeins of a cashmere/silk/wool blend from School Products; I doubled the yarn and used #8 needles. The color's slightly off: the green isn't quite as dark as it appears here. I wear it constantly.
It made a brief debut at KnitNY today: I couldn't loll around all day like some people (bitter? moi??). I had to pick up Cheb as her father is off on an adventure of some sort. I picked up some Cascade 220 to make a scarf for Cheb's teacher, and found the same hot shade of red as her leather gloves. (I think teacher's got a secret.) I also picked up the same yarn in blue for the school's safety officer, who has been a big help on those mornings when Cheb decides she doesn't really want to go to school and plants herself in the doorway.
There was something I was going to ramble about but I've got a new bee in my bonnet. I watched Hannity & Colmes. Aargh. I've seen bits of it before, but tonight I sat through the entire program. I don't even know what to say. There's so much wrong with it, I don't know where to start. But seriously, it made me nauseous. It made me so sad for this country. I've said it before, I'll say it again: hell in a handbasket, people. That's where we're going if we don't talk to (not at) each other, and listen to each other, and respect each other's differences. The blatant manipulation of facts, the use of dubious 'research' and not expecting your audience to care enough to check those facts (not even stating where your information comes from)... I could go on. Actually, I did but I erased some of it. I do go on sometimes.
Sigh.
Did I ever mention that I worked for (many) years in nightclubs? Hellish. Lucrative, but hellish.
I was thinking today that I'd like to work in coatcheck again. Because as hellish as it was, I do miss it (especially the tips- actually, just the tips). I do have a boatload of stories and some cherished memories from my time in club hell. Not all of which I can share....
I was thinking of the Pancake Guy today. It was the end of the night, the guy was completely wasted and staggered toward the coatroom slapping at his pockets (the international symbol for "I can't find my ticket").
Me: Lost your ticket?
He: No! I can't find my ticket!
Me: Well, try to find it, or you won't get your coat.
He: (face turns to stone) No. I can't lose my coat. My father gave me that coat. If I lose that coat, I will disintegrate. Like butter. On pancakes. Because I like pancakes for breakfast.
Me: Alrighty.
I had pancakes today. I think of that guy every time I have pancakes. I wonder if I live on in someone's memory as "the drunk girl that..." It would not surprise me at all if I do.
So I've come up with a new rationalization for my yarn stash. I'm letting the yarn marinate. I have yarn purchased more than a year ago (and probably some older than that) and I'm just getting around to deciding what to do with it. Or maybe it is simply that I can't buy any more yarn so I've suddenly come up with ideas for what I already have.
I like the marinate thing better.
Yesterday I finished Clapotis. Haven't taken a picture. Busy day; I'll do it tomorrow. I dropped all the stitches last night while watching The Two Towers (preparing for watching Return of the King- yes, I'm a geek), and haven't taken it off since. I. Love. It. I'm glad I let this yarn marinate; it was going to be a pullover. This is much better.
So until the Clapotis pic tomorrow, here's Cheb:
(click image to embiggen)
Kix 1, Girl 0.
1) Little kids are so gosh-darned cute.
2) I couldn't handle being a kindergarten teacher; I salute those who can.
3) Modest dress can be fashionable!
4) Zippers unzip and shoelaces untie of their own free will, usually five kids at a time.
Ignore the crazy woman that posted yesterday.
Yep... feeling better, even though the 2 hour nap I wanted only lasted 20 minutes. I'm going to try for that 2 hour nap today. After I finish putting up the window blinds....
And in Secret Pal 3 news- today I received a great package from Anne/Annushka. I suspect it's been sitting in my super's apartment for a few days, judging from the date it was mailed.
First, how gorgeous is that pooling colors scarf? I was thinking of attempting that pattern but it sorta scared me off. Anne did an incredible job. There's also a book for Cheb about life in the prairie; a great gift for my little City Mouse. A bracelet for me (seeing as I coveted the sparkly ones she sent Cheb in her earlier package), and beautiful jade stitch markers. Finally, she added two skeins of Blackberry Ridge wool, dyed in beautiful autumn colors. Love the colors, and there's something about the way the yarn is dyed that makes it look kind of like velvet. Great stuff.
Спасибо, Анушка!
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