Moon Pie

Less is Not (really) More

God, it's been a long time since I've been here. I mean really, I missed you. I did. I am trying to be a better person this year.  But I think I am setting my standards too high. I am basically lazy and shiftless.

Since Winter

I'm back to the knitting thing again, not that I was actually gone long. But I did stop writing about it. It's like a gotta bunch a new responsibilities at work and I sort of fell apart keep up with my real life...writing, reading, walking, meditation and (naturally) knitting.

So let's pretend I never left and take off from oh, let's say...winter. My friend at work Marcia brought me a HUMONGOUS bag of fleece from her little lambies. Marcia lives on an island in the Delta where she has sheep..shearing was last week so now I have a wonderful garbage bag fulla dirty lamb's wool. The first night, of course, Melvin and Tommie found the bag and ripped an oh-so-tiny hole in it. They worried the hole until they could actually reach inside and paw scoops of wool out and scatter it around the living room. They are very bad cats.

My plan is to scour it, card it, roll my own, and spin....I have a great deal to learn but it is going to be SO great!

Cat Tell

Lots o' knittin' done yesterday. It was dreary and cold and I had two Netflix DVDs I hadn't viewed. They were heavy and serious (Battle of Algiers - and Disc 2 of Battle of Algiers) so I knitted and watched.

The cats did not like it. First, they hate subtitles and second, when I am knitting I can not really pay attention to them every minute. So they act out. Bille found a piece of yarn and ingested it -- I am still waiting to see if it, ah, emerges. Moo barfed up a lung on the carpet - but she was quiet enough so I didn't notice until my foot was planted firmly in the squish of it - sooo gross -- and I had on new socks.

Melvin brought in a dead newt and then tossed it around until I was able to wrestle it from him and throw it in the trash -- naturally about six hours later he was in the trash trying to fish it out. But the finale was Tom who caught a bird, brought it in and dropped it on the couch during the knitting/movie. The bird was not dead but he was bleeding!

I wrapped the little thing up in a warm towel and held it real quiet (turned off the movie by this time) and shushed everyone outside -- except Moo who has never seen outside in her life. I sat with Mr. Bird until he stopped bleeding and started responding a little. Then I put him in a cat carrier and shuttled him off to the Lindsay Wildlife Museum where they rehab all sorts of wild things. My cats are such shits that  I am there more frequently than I like to admit taking all sorts of animals for rehab after one of the Serengetti cats from hell stalk them and catch them. Every time I get a lecture about keeping my cats inside..and everytime I vow to do it. But I am weak and they are strong.

Update: The bird was a Hermit Thrush and he was ok. They are going to give him some antibiotics and water then free him in my area.

I had ever intention of pictures this more including one with Bille sleeping on my new Irish yarn and Melvin under the swift (he thinks it is a cabana umbrella) but I can't find my cable thingy for the camera. My life is a mess.

Happy Valentine. Give your sweetie a big ol' kiss.

What House Payment?

Fuck Disneyland. The happiest place on earth is the Marketplace at Stitches West. All my Buddhist non-attachment, my quest for a simplier life, my vow to use my STASH  for new projects-- all gone. I went to Stitches and took a big ol' hit off that crack pipe. I also went with two Stitches virgins and just the adrenalin in the air was enough to make them breath into a paper bag.

I was among my peeps. Middle-aged women with disposable income just dying to buy the dream of a new Irish wool sweater or a scarf made out of their old fake chignons they wore in high school There was the button people and the yarn snots and the bookish. There was an entire ballroom of possibilities. It was heady.

I did pretty good. First I didnt take my credit cards. I wrote checks and my checking account has more reality for me. I mean after all, what's another $500 worth of yarn on a Visa? Citibank already owns my soul - why not my cashmere?

My friends were completely stoned on the overwhelm. One of them came up to me about halfway through our market place trek and breathed "A woman over there just spent $280 on YARN!" I stifled my evil laugh but I thought -- yep we start you on Fun Fur and then you belong to the DEVIL. Instead I replied, "Really?"

My purchases (pictures tomorrow) included some beautiful Irish worsted in a color called "Autumn" and a pattern to knit it with. (That will be my long plane ride knitting) and two books on socks (my goal this year) and a drop spindle and some rovings from Deep Color Studio. I am going to take a class and learn how to roll my own!

When I got home, I fell into a deep sleep on my couch -- coming down from my high, I guess. The cats gathered round each picking a limb to sleep on. I woke up when one of them found the wool roving - I guess he thought it was a relative.

First there is a Mountain, then there is no Mountain, then There is...

So I got outta the revolving door of the holidays. Then I gave up knitting for a hot minute. Then I gave up blogging. Then I gained weight, then I bought new clothes, then I gotta new haircut, then I started knitting again. NOW I am blogging.

There you have it.

I didn't get the job at Cal. I secretly didn't want it. I know that sounds like sour grapes but I fell in love with the idea of being an academic. It sounds so romantic doesn't it? Drinking sherry at the faculty club talking about the Field Theory or some damn obscure thing.

But here is the reality -- I am NOT an academic. I read FICTION for god sakes and I write (shink back) memoir (yes, it IS all about me, as a matter of fact). But I don't think all that deep and when I do -- I scare myself. Besides being a old lady with four cats and who is a professor....I would be Professor McGonigal from Harry Potter. I just refuse to be any  more of a stereotype.

I really need that tattoo and nose piercing. Really.

The other thing -- the academic job --- $20K LESS than I make right now! I would have to take on a consulting gig. What WAS I thinking. So I am forever a civil servant for the County. And believe me things COULD be worse.

On the Knitting Front

I finished my Colinette wrap -- lovely! and the Soho Poncho -- warm! and the Pon Pon scarf -- Too Hip for words. My plan is to go to the Stitches market tomorrow and buy yarn for a sweater. I have a long plane ride ahead of me in a few weeks.

Am I a Loser? (This is just rhetorical -- relax)

I am/have trying/tried to make the Clapotis. Like many people in BlogLand - I love this scarf. However, I feel like such a moron because I keep screwing it up. The moron part comes from people reporting how easy and fun it is...so when does the  fun part happen? I just keep messing up -- adding stitched (or subtracting) until have have to start again.

Even the cats are bored with it.

Revolver

Help! I am stuck in a revolving door with "Here Comes Santa Claus" playing in my brain. I will be back. I promise.....

Yikes!

Flashback

Do you ever wonder if the drugs you took as a teenager are living residually inside you anywhere? Today would be a good day for them to make an appearance. I continue to angst over the purpose of my life (an important job interview – see Tuesday – will make that happen). Then I had to frog a scarf I’d been struggling over because I lost count of the rows and screwed it up. Then I took a look at my stash and UNDERSTOOD why I have no money.

Are you supposed to be this weirded out at 50? I know that supposed is a judgmental (heavy on the “mental” part) word but dang…when am I supposed anticipate the garbage bill? At what age is it developmentally appropriate to hang up your clothes or put the top back on the bottle of white wine you swigged out of the night before? And WHEN do you stop worrying about whether or not to wear horizontal stripes?

Back to my knittin’ – so I am making a sweater. It’s a great design called Lamarosaro (I am not sure but I just might have made that name up)  from Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton’s Transitions Book 2. It is in a yarn by Filati called FUNKY – which fit my mood and my budget. The Main Color is a variegated warm coral and sand colors and (don’t tell my dead mother) it is going to have HORIZONTAL stripes. Pushing out my cheeks like a blow fish.

“Does this make me look fat?”

Hey, I am over 50, over 200 pounds, and OVER IT ALL. So fuck it, if I look fat – then you’re just jealous.

Neener Neener.

Inner-View

So I had a HUGE interview at a HUGE university (go Bears!) for a faculty position yesterday. It was major. The interview began at 8:30 am and it ended at 5:00 pm. I met the Dean and the search committee and the students and other faculty and I had to end it by teaching a class to students and faculty.

I took my meds -- $75 at Cody’s Books and the world’s biggest BLT at Intermezzo – and came home and went right to bed without taking off the three pounds of makeup I put on for the interview. It was 7:15

New job = new life. I am not sure I want to change my life. I am 50. I love the idea of being in the rarified world of academia with all of its pitfalls and glory. But do I love the idea of leaving what I am doing…changing my career path…starting my retirement all over again? When did I get so practical? Sheessh.

Then there is the three months off in the summer.

I woke up at 4:00 am since I HAD my eight hours sleep and did some meditative knitting. Thank god for this method-acting of prayer/mediation.

It was good. It is all good. I think.