Top 5 things not to do in your cover letter when applying for a job:
5. Mention the hospital bills you have to pay after your recent sexual reassignment surgery.
4. Start every sentence with "I."
3. Talk about how you really don't need a job that bad, but you're applying anyway, as if it was a legitimate reverse psychology tactic.
2. Misspell something or confuse "your" and "you're" while purporting to be an editor.
1. Forget to include the attached resume, only to send a second e-mail saying "Oops! I forgot to attach my resume!" That's foreshadowing a crappy employee.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Quality Time
I don't see much of my family in the Houston area. That's what they'd have you believe, at least.
I am probably going to make more trips out there to see them, mostly because I discovered that my neice, Little T, is growing like a weed and I'm missing it. She's so fun to be around now. She'll be walking at any moment. She's babbling constantly and she's such a happy little girl.
So, I got to spend some quality time with her and the folks that care for her on a regular basis. I even got some time with my camera in, and some time with my fishing rod.
Here are some photos just to document. Notice the lack of baby in the pictures. When I was with my neice I actually spent time with her instead of spending time in the same room but behind my camera.
Favorites:
Limbs from an evergreen next to the lake dip their fingers into the water to cool off on a blistering day.
A view to one of the small islands in the lake at my parent's house. The bank is mostly delineated by a narrow stand of grass, then a greenbelt and then the steep trunks of the endless pines surround.
This stump spoke to me. It was so humble, a host of a small poison ivy vine that chose to circle about the bottom. It seemed old enough to posture as a miniature face of a canyon or something equally ancient.
The Houston area is surrounded by bayous, rivers and lakes, and around those lakes you'll find cattails, which are so fascinating.
There are signs constantly reminding you that where you live is surrounded by a delicate ecosystem. A concrete plant moved in next door to my parents' neighborhood. Its runoff has decimated an old stand of saw palmettos that kept the bogs clean and saturated. Without the palmetto, algae and duckweed have taken over. Without cover, beavers come in and take down trees and ruin the once-primordial landscape.
It just doesn't look right without the underbrush...
My dad. He doesn't look like a guy that's been torn apart and put back together more than Humpty Dumpty. He's the reason people say "Live fast and die young." Only he lived fast and long enough to see that the end of your thirties isn't the end of the road.
If my brother would have asked what I wanted in another sister I would have told him to marry a girl like Megan. Thank goodness he did. Even though he would have never asked in the first place.
To top it off, almost no knitting got done during the vacation, and I totally spaced on getting pictures of my sister Kara in the hat I made for her. She did make me some totally boss jewelry, and I'll put some pictures up of it when I can.
I am probably going to make more trips out there to see them, mostly because I discovered that my neice, Little T, is growing like a weed and I'm missing it. She's so fun to be around now. She'll be walking at any moment. She's babbling constantly and she's such a happy little girl.
So, I got to spend some quality time with her and the folks that care for her on a regular basis. I even got some time with my camera in, and some time with my fishing rod.
Here are some photos just to document. Notice the lack of baby in the pictures. When I was with my neice I actually spent time with her instead of spending time in the same room but behind my camera.
Favorites:
Limbs from an evergreen next to the lake dip their fingers into the water to cool off on a blistering day.
A view to one of the small islands in the lake at my parent's house. The bank is mostly delineated by a narrow stand of grass, then a greenbelt and then the steep trunks of the endless pines surround.
This stump spoke to me. It was so humble, a host of a small poison ivy vine that chose to circle about the bottom. It seemed old enough to posture as a miniature face of a canyon or something equally ancient.
The Houston area is surrounded by bayous, rivers and lakes, and around those lakes you'll find cattails, which are so fascinating.
There are signs constantly reminding you that where you live is surrounded by a delicate ecosystem. A concrete plant moved in next door to my parents' neighborhood. Its runoff has decimated an old stand of saw palmettos that kept the bogs clean and saturated. Without the palmetto, algae and duckweed have taken over. Without cover, beavers come in and take down trees and ruin the once-primordial landscape.
It just doesn't look right without the underbrush...
My dad. He doesn't look like a guy that's been torn apart and put back together more than Humpty Dumpty. He's the reason people say "Live fast and die young." Only he lived fast and long enough to see that the end of your thirties isn't the end of the road.
If my brother would have asked what I wanted in another sister I would have told him to marry a girl like Megan. Thank goodness he did. Even though he would have never asked in the first place.
To top it off, almost no knitting got done during the vacation, and I totally spaced on getting pictures of my sister Kara in the hat I made for her. She did make me some totally boss jewelry, and I'll put some pictures up of it when I can.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Too bad you can't knit while driving
Dave and I are no strangers to time in the car. We did drive (stupidly, might I add) to Key West and back. I am usually lucky to be in the passenger seat. While this means that I relinquish control of the radio for a fair amount of the trip, it also means that I may knit while we traverse the more boring parts of the journey.
I'm making my way down to Houston later today. It's a TREMENDOUSLY BORING DRIVE. Really boring. So boring that I would prefer to hire out the driving so that I can instead knit while we make our way to the swampy air of the Bayou City.
Regardless, you shouldn't feel left out in the cold just because I'm gone for a while. You see that little box to your right? The one that says "Road Bumps"? That's my twitter feed. Feel free to follow it and get your fix of Miss Dallas while I'm away from my desk.
Also, go leave some love for berg with fries and switching over to AM. It must be hard to be sans wife for the weekend.
Back soon!
I'm making my way down to Houston later today. It's a TREMENDOUSLY BORING DRIVE. Really boring. So boring that I would prefer to hire out the driving so that I can instead knit while we make our way to the swampy air of the Bayou City.
Regardless, you shouldn't feel left out in the cold just because I'm gone for a while. You see that little box to your right? The one that says "Road Bumps"? That's my twitter feed. Feel free to follow it and get your fix of Miss Dallas while I'm away from my desk.
Also, go leave some love for berg with fries and switching over to AM. It must be hard to be sans wife for the weekend.
Back soon!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Getting a little dangerous
So, after talking to a neighbor as I was on my way home from yoga last night, I realized that on July 7 it will be three months that I have been without a steady job. The few freelance gigs I had on the outset really helped keep my chin up. They also helped me keep a nice schedule. They got me out of the house. They gave me a real sense that I could transition. But, they're gone now.
And I am left without work. Without a job. Without a reason to get up in the morning other than laundry and dishes, which is not a reason to get up in the morning but a reason to avoid getting up in the morning.
As a condition of collecting unemployment, you have to look for work. I totally get that. I am more than willing to do at least 5 work searches every week. Hell, at this point I've applied to almost 30 jobs and done about 90 searches. I'm good at looking for a job. I think the job, though, is piss-poor about finding me.
After applying to more than my fair share of job openings, I have yet to get a call. No phone interviews. No in-person interviews. Nothing.
So, my confidence is getting a little shaky. I'm getting a little tired of the passive rejection. And I'm thinking of changing careers.
This is probably a big shocker to anyone that knows me. They know me as a writer. They know that ever since I learned to write that I found it irresistible. I love words. I love reading them and I love editing, and I am pretty sure that I will find it very hard to pick up another profession because I love this one so much.
Trouble is, the newspaper industry has left a lot of casualties in its wake, and there are more than too many unemployed editors and writers that have gobs more experience than me vying for the same positions. My meager resume doesn't stand a chance against a veteran assignment editor.
So, here's the mental list I've been mulling.
Top 5 careers I might consider retraining for:
5) Welder and fabricator. If you've seen flashdance, you know that a chick welding is hot.
4) Portrait photographer. I did this semi-professionally in college. I hated it. It's an option, though.
3) Go back to school for a master's degree. I'd likely try for something in natural resources, something related to public policy.
2) Write a book. (Pshaw...)
1) Open my own creperie.
Suggestions? Anything I should consider that I left out?
And I am left without work. Without a job. Without a reason to get up in the morning other than laundry and dishes, which is not a reason to get up in the morning but a reason to avoid getting up in the morning.
As a condition of collecting unemployment, you have to look for work. I totally get that. I am more than willing to do at least 5 work searches every week. Hell, at this point I've applied to almost 30 jobs and done about 90 searches. I'm good at looking for a job. I think the job, though, is piss-poor about finding me.
After applying to more than my fair share of job openings, I have yet to get a call. No phone interviews. No in-person interviews. Nothing.
So, my confidence is getting a little shaky. I'm getting a little tired of the passive rejection. And I'm thinking of changing careers.
This is probably a big shocker to anyone that knows me. They know me as a writer. They know that ever since I learned to write that I found it irresistible. I love words. I love reading them and I love editing, and I am pretty sure that I will find it very hard to pick up another profession because I love this one so much.
Trouble is, the newspaper industry has left a lot of casualties in its wake, and there are more than too many unemployed editors and writers that have gobs more experience than me vying for the same positions. My meager resume doesn't stand a chance against a veteran assignment editor.
So, here's the mental list I've been mulling.
Top 5 careers I might consider retraining for:
5) Welder and fabricator. If you've seen flashdance, you know that a chick welding is hot.
4) Portrait photographer. I did this semi-professionally in college. I hated it. It's an option, though.
3) Go back to school for a master's degree. I'd likely try for something in natural resources, something related to public policy.
2) Write a book. (Pshaw...)
1) Open my own creperie.
Suggestions? Anything I should consider that I left out?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Beers with people with babies
So, a lot of the couples that Dave and I hang out with are either pregnant or have kids. When one of our friends' spawn have a birthday you just go, regardless of whether or not you have your own spawn to tote to the party.
Last weekend we went to Dave's close friend's daughter's third birthday party. It was at his his friend's father's place out in Garland. There was a pool. There was beer. I brought my camera. I regret not getting a picture of a half naked Barbie standing in a cake. I didn't even know that they still made those Barbie cakes. I always considered them embarassing for Barbie. You are basically undressing her and eating her clothes. Classy.
Some of my favorites:
Here we have the birthday girl, Leah. I am told she is a ham in front of a camera. It is true. She is coy and cute right on cue!
For some reason, I totally get a "movie star" vibe from Leah here. Her grandfather, Harold, is trying to ask her a question, and she has this sort of upturned nose toward him, sunglasses obscuring her face, as if to wonder how he dared address her in public. What a diva.
Click to go to the full sized one, and you can see the blue icing from the Barbie cake still staining her mouth. So cute!
Leah and her mom, Shelley. Shelley is the wonderful gal that introduced me to my dear husband, Dave.
What a catch, right?
Here's Leah with her dad, Mike. Mike's nickname is "Chicken." Dave and Mike were good friends growing up. Dave is still growing up (See previous picture).
Here's Janice. She is the wrangler of three very high-energy yet unbelievably cute girls.
And here's Leah, about to go down the inflatable slide. I love that little "OMG!" face in the background!
"Whoa! This is really high! You better be at the bottom to catch me!"
"Maybe it's just too high. I'm going to scoot down a little and then I'll slide. OK?"
"Look, Dad. It's just scary. Do I have to let go of the slide?"
"WEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Last weekend we went to Dave's close friend's daughter's third birthday party. It was at his his friend's father's place out in Garland. There was a pool. There was beer. I brought my camera. I regret not getting a picture of a half naked Barbie standing in a cake. I didn't even know that they still made those Barbie cakes. I always considered them embarassing for Barbie. You are basically undressing her and eating her clothes. Classy.
Some of my favorites:
Here we have the birthday girl, Leah. I am told she is a ham in front of a camera. It is true. She is coy and cute right on cue!
For some reason, I totally get a "movie star" vibe from Leah here. Her grandfather, Harold, is trying to ask her a question, and she has this sort of upturned nose toward him, sunglasses obscuring her face, as if to wonder how he dared address her in public. What a diva.
Click to go to the full sized one, and you can see the blue icing from the Barbie cake still staining her mouth. So cute!
Leah and her mom, Shelley. Shelley is the wonderful gal that introduced me to my dear husband, Dave.
What a catch, right?
Here's Leah with her dad, Mike. Mike's nickname is "Chicken." Dave and Mike were good friends growing up. Dave is still growing up (See previous picture).
Here's Janice. She is the wrangler of three very high-energy yet unbelievably cute girls.
And here's Leah, about to go down the inflatable slide. I love that little "OMG!" face in the background!
"Whoa! This is really high! You better be at the bottom to catch me!"
"Maybe it's just too high. I'm going to scoot down a little and then I'll slide. OK?"
"Look, Dad. It's just scary. Do I have to let go of the slide?"
"WEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sometimes I shock myself with productivity
In preparation for a baby shower this Saturday (which is, ironically enough, at a Tex Mex joint in Deep Ellum that is owned by a transgendered male) I was on a knitting marathon for about a week. I needed to crank out a baby set and block them.
Ladies and gents, I'm sure you'll agree with me, that this was a resounding success:
Booties: Baby Monkey Socks by Sheri Berger of The Loopy Ewe Hat: Vine Lace Baby Hat by Sandi Wiseheart from Knitting Daily. Both are knit in Red Heart's Heart and Sole fingering weight in the colorway "Ivory."
White is very gender neutral, so these could end up as heirloom items. Stuff to take those first pictures in.
The lace cap started out looking a lot like a blob. Blocking it really helped to show off the lace pattern, which now looks like climbing vines, whereas, before it looked like a blob.
Freaking precious, no?
I also soaked some of my first handspun yesterday. Soaking the skeins really helps relax and set the twist. I didn't believe it until I actually did it. It totally works.
My yarn is a lot more consistent now, I promise. And it isn't the precise shade of doo-doo either.
More stuff to come later today!
Ladies and gents, I'm sure you'll agree with me, that this was a resounding success:
Booties: Baby Monkey Socks by Sheri Berger of The Loopy Ewe Hat: Vine Lace Baby Hat by Sandi Wiseheart from Knitting Daily. Both are knit in Red Heart's Heart and Sole fingering weight in the colorway "Ivory."
White is very gender neutral, so these could end up as heirloom items. Stuff to take those first pictures in.
The lace cap started out looking a lot like a blob. Blocking it really helped to show off the lace pattern, which now looks like climbing vines, whereas, before it looked like a blob.
Freaking precious, no?
I also soaked some of my first handspun yesterday. Soaking the skeins really helps relax and set the twist. I didn't believe it until I actually did it. It totally works.
My yarn is a lot more consistent now, I promise. And it isn't the precise shade of doo-doo either.
More stuff to come later today!
Friday, June 05, 2009
Good eggs, bad eggs and potato salad
Let's start off with the good. There' plenty of time to bitch about stuff later.
Good eggs:
-OK, you know I'm excited about this, but Stephanie Pearl-McPhee posted about her trip to Dallas, and there I am, with the weird face and two tweed socks (look familiar?) down in the middle. I think her post pretty much captures the awesomeness of the event, and it was crazy awesome. Thanks for coming down to Texas, Steph. Hope to see you again soon!
-Had a great time last weekend with my dear cousin, Mark, and his wife, Erin. These folks know how to have a good time, which is mostly evidenced by the extensively stocked bar they keep. We had an awesome time grillin' and chillin' at there house Sunday and Saturday, and we celebrated a fantastic visit from my sister Kara and her live-in, Vic.
That's Dave in the foreground and Vic in the back. We were doing a good job of sipping mojitos and keeping cool either by the pool or in it. Also, I did a canonball. It was awesome.
Kara doesn't like this picture of herself, but I do.
Here's Mark, my cousin, trying to wear a pink innertube. Someone tell Mark that you're supposed to use that thing to float.
Here, Vic thinks that the float is better used as a shroud, which will help him launch silent splash attacks on unwitting swimmers.
Oh, and did I mention that I got to meet Clover, Kara's new little chihuahua/poodle mix? What do you call that, a Poochi? Choodle? Chipoo?
Anyway...
-Kara brought me some fiber to spin. 100% Peruvian Alpaca, dyed with vegetable dyes by natives in the Andes. So awesome. Don't know what an alpaca is? Take a few moments to look at some video.
You want one now, too, don't you?
It's in just about every color of the rainbow. Really gorgeous stuff and the best fiber I've spun yet (OK, it's only the second type of fiber I've spun, but if it gets better from here, I'm totally cool with that.)
100% Alpaca on my drop spindle.
-I've also been knitting a lace baby set for a shower next weekend. Now I know what I'm going to do with all that left over sock yarn! BABY SOCKS!!!!
Vine Lace baby hat by Sandi Wiseheart from Knitting Daily in Red Heart Heart and Sole, Ivory colorway.
-Also knitting a surprise for my little niece, Teagan. Her birthday party is next month and I'm so ridiculously excited about making her some cute stuff.
-Also knitting socks. Only I'm trying to muster the mental will to start the second Noro Stripey Sock.
-Also, the orchids are blooming and looking quite fabulous. I may not be able to get my garden right, but hey, I can take care of orchids!
Bad Eggs:
- I don't know what's wrong with it, but I hurt my right foot pretty bad last Friday. Let's just say that a shovel was involved and it didn't end well for my foot. In any case, I've been hoping that it's just strained and that it'll mend, but it's a week later and it still gets sore from walking on it.
- Been having trouble sleeping lately. I'll lay awake for an hour or two in the middle of the night, and Dave, being the sweet guy that he is, won't make much effort to get me up in the morning before he leaves. This makes me feel unproductive and lazy, but I'm still trying to figure out what I can change to make sleeping a little easier. We might need a new mattress, which would be prohibitively expensive right now.
- On the injury to self theme, I ran my elbow into the wine rack last night while playing with Hornsby. I then proceeded to blame the dog for my own klutziness. He gave me kisses and I'm trying to get over it, but it still smarts. Apparently, being unemployed makes you uncoordinated.
-I got a really cute haircut from my sister, Kara, but it requires styling, which is a time investment I'm reluctant to make.
A Very Jemison Potato Salad:
Ingredients:
6 russet potatoes, peeled, boiled, cooled and cut into 1" pieces
8 hard boiled eggs (preferably from backyard hens), peeled and chopped
1 Vidalia onion, chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
Dressing:
2 Tbs. dijon mustard
1/2 c. light mayonnaise
juice of one lemon
1 Tbs. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. celery seeds
pepper to taste
Combine the salad ingredients in a very large bowl (I'm talking humongous. The biggest you have.) and set aside. Whisk together the mustard and mayonnaise in one bowl and the lemon juice and olive oil in another. Gradually add the olive oil mixture into the mustard/mayo mixture in parts, whisking continuously. You want to emulsify the mixture, combining the ingredients completely. Whisk in salt and celery seeds and then add to the salad ingredients. Stir to coat the salad completely. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit for 1 hour in the fridge before serving. Enjoy!
Good eggs:
-OK, you know I'm excited about this, but Stephanie Pearl-McPhee posted about her trip to Dallas, and there I am, with the weird face and two tweed socks (look familiar?) down in the middle. I think her post pretty much captures the awesomeness of the event, and it was crazy awesome. Thanks for coming down to Texas, Steph. Hope to see you again soon!
-Had a great time last weekend with my dear cousin, Mark, and his wife, Erin. These folks know how to have a good time, which is mostly evidenced by the extensively stocked bar they keep. We had an awesome time grillin' and chillin' at there house Sunday and Saturday, and we celebrated a fantastic visit from my sister Kara and her live-in, Vic.
That's Dave in the foreground and Vic in the back. We were doing a good job of sipping mojitos and keeping cool either by the pool or in it. Also, I did a canonball. It was awesome.
Kara doesn't like this picture of herself, but I do.
Here's Mark, my cousin, trying to wear a pink innertube. Someone tell Mark that you're supposed to use that thing to float.
Here, Vic thinks that the float is better used as a shroud, which will help him launch silent splash attacks on unwitting swimmers.
Oh, and did I mention that I got to meet Clover, Kara's new little chihuahua/poodle mix? What do you call that, a Poochi? Choodle? Chipoo?
Anyway...
-Kara brought me some fiber to spin. 100% Peruvian Alpaca, dyed with vegetable dyes by natives in the Andes. So awesome. Don't know what an alpaca is? Take a few moments to look at some video.
You want one now, too, don't you?
It's in just about every color of the rainbow. Really gorgeous stuff and the best fiber I've spun yet (OK, it's only the second type of fiber I've spun, but if it gets better from here, I'm totally cool with that.)
100% Alpaca on my drop spindle.
-I've also been knitting a lace baby set for a shower next weekend. Now I know what I'm going to do with all that left over sock yarn! BABY SOCKS!!!!
Vine Lace baby hat by Sandi Wiseheart from Knitting Daily in Red Heart Heart and Sole, Ivory colorway.
-Also knitting a surprise for my little niece, Teagan. Her birthday party is next month and I'm so ridiculously excited about making her some cute stuff.
-Also knitting socks. Only I'm trying to muster the mental will to start the second Noro Stripey Sock.
-Also, the orchids are blooming and looking quite fabulous. I may not be able to get my garden right, but hey, I can take care of orchids!
Bad Eggs:
- I don't know what's wrong with it, but I hurt my right foot pretty bad last Friday. Let's just say that a shovel was involved and it didn't end well for my foot. In any case, I've been hoping that it's just strained and that it'll mend, but it's a week later and it still gets sore from walking on it.
- Been having trouble sleeping lately. I'll lay awake for an hour or two in the middle of the night, and Dave, being the sweet guy that he is, won't make much effort to get me up in the morning before he leaves. This makes me feel unproductive and lazy, but I'm still trying to figure out what I can change to make sleeping a little easier. We might need a new mattress, which would be prohibitively expensive right now.
- On the injury to self theme, I ran my elbow into the wine rack last night while playing with Hornsby. I then proceeded to blame the dog for my own klutziness. He gave me kisses and I'm trying to get over it, but it still smarts. Apparently, being unemployed makes you uncoordinated.
-I got a really cute haircut from my sister, Kara, but it requires styling, which is a time investment I'm reluctant to make.
A Very Jemison Potato Salad:
Ingredients:
6 russet potatoes, peeled, boiled, cooled and cut into 1" pieces
8 hard boiled eggs (preferably from backyard hens), peeled and chopped
1 Vidalia onion, chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
Dressing:
2 Tbs. dijon mustard
1/2 c. light mayonnaise
juice of one lemon
1 Tbs. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. celery seeds
pepper to taste
Combine the salad ingredients in a very large bowl (I'm talking humongous. The biggest you have.) and set aside. Whisk together the mustard and mayonnaise in one bowl and the lemon juice and olive oil in another. Gradually add the olive oil mixture into the mustard/mayo mixture in parts, whisking continuously. You want to emulsify the mixture, combining the ingredients completely. Whisk in salt and celery seeds and then add to the salad ingredients. Stir to coat the salad completely. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit for 1 hour in the fridge before serving. Enjoy!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Dear Stephanie,
This may be a little too soon, Steph, but I wanted to go ahead and get this off my chest:
I fucked up.
You see, when I heard that you were going to do one of your legendary appearances at Legacy Books in Plano (which, is not in Dallas, but we'll get to that) I was a smidge excited. My husband said I was hysterical. He's embellishing. Swear.
I have been following your blog for about three years now, almost as long as I've been knitting, and I've found it to be an immense resource when it comes to relating to other knitters and our extremely nutty behavior. I now know that yarn hoarding is not a disease, but instead a hobby. Nay, an artform. It should not be considered a mental illness.
I had planned to come to your signing and talk for about two weeks now.
And yet, it did not come easy. Bet you saw that one coming, right?
First, my husband and I had a grand plan: We would do some quick shopping at a nearby sports store, grab a quick dinner and then a cuppa joe, and head to Legacy Books for the signing. Only when we were making these plans, which are good plans (especially if you include a burrito in there somewhere), we didn't account for Friday rush-hour traffic heading north to Plano from East Dallas.
Eff. Ewe. See. Kay.
The trip to come visit, Steph, was an unholy nightmare. I honestly didn't think we were going to make it. I was -this- close to stabbing Dave with one of my sock needles when we finally got close to Legacy Drive. That was at about 6:30 p.m. Dave called the bookstore and the gal at the desk said that all of the seats upstairs were full, and that it was standing-room-only.
"Wow. That's a lot of knitters," I thought.
I went ahead and bought a hard-back copy of Free-Range Knitter and got my ticket in line. I was No. 3. I thought that was pretty awesome, that was, until I discovered that it was No. 3 in the second group, which was after 60 other fiber enthusiasts who were all big enough fans of yours to brave Dallas traffic on a Friday near rush-hour to come and see you. It was going to be a long night.
Nancy, a fiber fanatic, was there with her wee one, Evie. Notice the February Baby sweater...
So, I knitted.
And knitted.
And I finished my Noro stripey sock. Only I didn't. I actually made it four rows too short and I justed ripped it out.
Here Stephanie takes one of her classic sock-tourism shots. Stephanie and her sock got to hang out with Dallas knitters reluctantly in Plano and other area knitters.
But in any case, here's my take-away from your talk:
-Knitters are awesome. Fact.
-Not many people understand the awesomeness of knitters. Fact.
-Knitting does a lot of good things for your brain and your latent homicidal tendencies.
-Knitting is more artistic and complex than more people think, and it's pretty accessible, too.
-Yarn is awesome.
You, Stephanie, were much more eloquent and funny. And I laughed my ass off. Seriously. I think my ass is still somewhere in the back row of the business strategy books over at Legacy Books. The part about the "McGuyver" art festival was legendary. Also, the part about the Wal-Mart socks was ridiculously funny, too.
And then after a brief Q&A, we assembled into a line. Well, it took me a while to get into the line, but when I did, I met more great knitters, and I knew exactly what I wanted you to write in my book:
Except, when I got up to the front of the line, I was a little starstruck, I missed out on asking you to put in "Seriously." And I hope you'll forgive me for totally arsing our dialogue. I forgot to mention that I'm deaf and I wasn't reading your lips when I went to pull out my first socks. But, hey, you were a good sport for the camera!
Third time's a charm for the book store gal!
Again, thanks for coming to Texas, and to the D-FW area, but how about next time your incredible agent finds a good bookstore near Dallas, or doesn't put us all through the hell of trying to get to Plano on a Friday. That shit's terrible.
You were awesome, though.
XOXO and K2TOG,
Jo
I fucked up.
You see, when I heard that you were going to do one of your legendary appearances at Legacy Books in Plano (which, is not in Dallas, but we'll get to that) I was a smidge excited. My husband said I was hysterical. He's embellishing. Swear.
I have been following your blog for about three years now, almost as long as I've been knitting, and I've found it to be an immense resource when it comes to relating to other knitters and our extremely nutty behavior. I now know that yarn hoarding is not a disease, but instead a hobby. Nay, an artform. It should not be considered a mental illness.
I had planned to come to your signing and talk for about two weeks now.
And yet, it did not come easy. Bet you saw that one coming, right?
First, my husband and I had a grand plan: We would do some quick shopping at a nearby sports store, grab a quick dinner and then a cuppa joe, and head to Legacy Books for the signing. Only when we were making these plans, which are good plans (especially if you include a burrito in there somewhere), we didn't account for Friday rush-hour traffic heading north to Plano from East Dallas.
Eff. Ewe. See. Kay.
The trip to come visit, Steph, was an unholy nightmare. I honestly didn't think we were going to make it. I was -this- close to stabbing Dave with one of my sock needles when we finally got close to Legacy Drive. That was at about 6:30 p.m. Dave called the bookstore and the gal at the desk said that all of the seats upstairs were full, and that it was standing-room-only.
"Wow. That's a lot of knitters," I thought.
I went ahead and bought a hard-back copy of Free-Range Knitter and got my ticket in line. I was No. 3. I thought that was pretty awesome, that was, until I discovered that it was No. 3 in the second group, which was after 60 other fiber enthusiasts who were all big enough fans of yours to brave Dallas traffic on a Friday near rush-hour to come and see you. It was going to be a long night.
Nancy, a fiber fanatic, was there with her wee one, Evie. Notice the February Baby sweater...
So, I knitted.
And knitted.
And I finished my Noro stripey sock. Only I didn't. I actually made it four rows too short and I justed ripped it out.
Here Stephanie takes one of her classic sock-tourism shots. Stephanie and her sock got to hang out with Dallas knitters reluctantly in Plano and other area knitters.
But in any case, here's my take-away from your talk:
-Knitters are awesome. Fact.
-Not many people understand the awesomeness of knitters. Fact.
-Knitting does a lot of good things for your brain and your latent homicidal tendencies.
-Knitting is more artistic and complex than more people think, and it's pretty accessible, too.
-Yarn is awesome.
You, Stephanie, were much more eloquent and funny. And I laughed my ass off. Seriously. I think my ass is still somewhere in the back row of the business strategy books over at Legacy Books. The part about the "McGuyver" art festival was legendary. Also, the part about the Wal-Mart socks was ridiculously funny, too.
And then after a brief Q&A, we assembled into a line. Well, it took me a while to get into the line, but when I did, I met more great knitters, and I knew exactly what I wanted you to write in my book:
For Joanna.
Seriously.
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee
Except, when I got up to the front of the line, I was a little starstruck, I missed out on asking you to put in "Seriously." And I hope you'll forgive me for totally arsing our dialogue. I forgot to mention that I'm deaf and I wasn't reading your lips when I went to pull out my first socks. But, hey, you were a good sport for the camera!
Third time's a charm for the book store gal!
Again, thanks for coming to Texas, and to the D-FW area, but how about next time your incredible agent finds a good bookstore near Dallas, or doesn't put us all through the hell of trying to get to Plano on a Friday. That shit's terrible.
You were awesome, though.
XOXO and K2TOG,
Jo
A Very Harlotty Friday
In honor of this evening's festivities and the much-awaited visit of Toronto's own Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, a little yarn about a sock:
I finished a sock on Thursday. Usually this is a really great stage in making a pair of socks. You've done one of them, you've figured the pattern out and all of it's little idiosyncracies. You know that you can do it, and now you are ready to cast on for the second one, because, hey, it's definitely going to go faster than the first and you've got the pattern memorized.
And, who wouldn't want to cast on for the second sock in a pair that promises to be this beautiful?
Here, the sock (Broken Cable Socks by Ann Budd in Patons Kroy Socks, colorway Flax) enjoys some time being warmed by the sun on our fancy schmancy adirondack chairs...
Except, what if you can't cast on for the second.
What if you committed the cardinal sin of knitting?
What if you DIDN'T BUY ENOUGH YARN OF THE SAME COLORWAY TO KNIT A PAIR OF FREAKING SOCKS???
Because that's what I did.
And the funny thing is, before I finished this sock yesterday I had two socks nearing completion but not a pair.
So, my strategy is to scour ebay and ravelry and all of the sites where old colorways go to die for the right shade of gray to finish these socks, becuase, as you can see from this photo, the sock really wants a friend to share the sun with...
And it would have one if I wasn't such a freaking nimrod of a knitter.
Also, I now remember why Saturday was such a blur: Dave and I spend the better part of Saturday morning and into the afternoon walking ALL THE WAY AROUND WHITE ROCK LAKE.
All. The. Way. Around.
That's about 9 miles. Totally crazy-pants. Notice the timing of the hike, too. The very day after I had a mental screw loose over the cellulite on my thighs in the department store dressing room, an event we will now refer to as my Come To Jesus Moment on the condition of my rear. And my hips. Thighs, too.
We started off super optimistic, doing a little jogging here, picking up the pace there, but always returning to a brisk walk. At points, I thought my hip might give out. But, we kept at it, and by God, I was so glad to have that air conditioning on me by the end of it...
So, yeah, that's why I forgot most of Saturday. And I'm thinking that this behavior, my over-exuberant optimism for my own abilities, has something to do with the fact that I have one sock and no hope for another any time soon...
I finished a sock on Thursday. Usually this is a really great stage in making a pair of socks. You've done one of them, you've figured the pattern out and all of it's little idiosyncracies. You know that you can do it, and now you are ready to cast on for the second one, because, hey, it's definitely going to go faster than the first and you've got the pattern memorized.
And, who wouldn't want to cast on for the second sock in a pair that promises to be this beautiful?
Here, the sock (Broken Cable Socks by Ann Budd in Patons Kroy Socks, colorway Flax) enjoys some time being warmed by the sun on our fancy schmancy adirondack chairs...
Except, what if you can't cast on for the second.
What if you committed the cardinal sin of knitting?
What if you DIDN'T BUY ENOUGH YARN OF THE SAME COLORWAY TO KNIT A PAIR OF FREAKING SOCKS???
Because that's what I did.
And the funny thing is, before I finished this sock yesterday I had two socks nearing completion but not a pair.
So, my strategy is to scour ebay and ravelry and all of the sites where old colorways go to die for the right shade of gray to finish these socks, becuase, as you can see from this photo, the sock really wants a friend to share the sun with...
And it would have one if I wasn't such a freaking nimrod of a knitter.
Also, I now remember why Saturday was such a blur: Dave and I spend the better part of Saturday morning and into the afternoon walking ALL THE WAY AROUND WHITE ROCK LAKE.
All. The. Way. Around.
That's about 9 miles. Totally crazy-pants. Notice the timing of the hike, too. The very day after I had a mental screw loose over the cellulite on my thighs in the department store dressing room, an event we will now refer to as my Come To Jesus Moment on the condition of my rear. And my hips. Thighs, too.
We started off super optimistic, doing a little jogging here, picking up the pace there, but always returning to a brisk walk. At points, I thought my hip might give out. But, we kept at it, and by God, I was so glad to have that air conditioning on me by the end of it...
So, yeah, that's why I forgot most of Saturday. And I'm thinking that this behavior, my over-exuberant optimism for my own abilities, has something to do with the fact that I have one sock and no hope for another any time soon...
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Memorial Day-yum
In America there are two different kinds of holidays: ones for which you go to church and ones that you get crazy drunk and barbecue. Memorial Day resides in the latter group, and it's effects are intensified by the presence of the hallowed three-day weekend.
Memorial Day is just a fucking awesome holiday, and not many people would disagree with me. Also, in the US, it is the symbolic start of summer and is usually preceeded by the last day of school in many public districts. What's not to love?
Also, Dave was let off early on Friday, so we met up at a local store so that I could check out bathing suits and some cute dresses to help buoy my mood. Let's just be frank: Trying on bathing suits when you're as out of shape as I am will do anything but buoy your mood. It will make you feel like this whole world is a dressing-room shaped nightmare and that every piece of lycra on the planet is plotting against you in a concerted psychological directive to make you feel fat.
So, I picked up a way-cute maxi dress and went home to lick my wounds.
On Saturday we decided to get some stuff around the house done, like washing dishes and yard work. We also chose to go to World Market and splurge the last of our discretionary cash on some Adirondack chairs and then at Home Depot on some Tiki torches and plants. Lest you be confused, these are all happiness inducing purchases by making our yard a bit more like a sanctuary, and therefore, are totally worth it.
We assembled the adirondacks, set up the Tikis, grabbed a few vodka coolers and sat back to relax with the chickens. Nothing wrong with that.
Sunday's a bit of a blur now, but I do remember that we had dinner with Dave's parents that evening, and that we also spent some quality beer o'clock time with my good buddy Jack.
Monday, though, was the title bout, the main attraction and the reason for the three-day weekend.
We were prepared to do a significant amount of day-drinking, but not nearly the amount that we actually did. Well, Dave wasn't prepared, and he was throwing back hard ciders like no one in the world was going to make them anymore and he had to get his fill of them RIGHT NOW.
So, by the time we had all eaten our fill of ribs, chicken bacon skewers, grilled asparagus and beer (or white wine spritzers in my case. That crazy-pants session staring at my cellulite in the corner mirror at the department store did a number on my self-esteem) Dave was pretty much a drunkface.
Good thing we had lots of QT with our fabulous neighbors before then:
Bart and his sweet little morsel of a son, Hank.
Hi, Hank!
"Well, hello, yourself, lady with the camera!"
You are just tremendously cute, Hank. Thanks for being a good baby.
Notice the "rally cap" on Dave's pate and the sad look on his face. This is not a good sign.
"WHOOOEEE! DEM ARE SOME RIBS A'SMOKIN!"
The Bart action figure, beer grip comes standard.
This is George. When not trying to pull down your pants, he likes to splay himself out in the shade or on the kitchen floor.
This is George's partner in crime, Betty.
Bart is on the fence. Literally.
But he's in a precarious position because Dave egged him into some impromptu tree maintenance. The first thing out of my mouth after seeing Bart hop onto the fence: "BART! THE BOY NEEDS A FATHER!!!"
And here, Dave is shocked that everyone survived that episode (Well, except for the dag-nabbed limb).
The end!
Memorial Day is just a fucking awesome holiday, and not many people would disagree with me. Also, in the US, it is the symbolic start of summer and is usually preceeded by the last day of school in many public districts. What's not to love?
Also, Dave was let off early on Friday, so we met up at a local store so that I could check out bathing suits and some cute dresses to help buoy my mood. Let's just be frank: Trying on bathing suits when you're as out of shape as I am will do anything but buoy your mood. It will make you feel like this whole world is a dressing-room shaped nightmare and that every piece of lycra on the planet is plotting against you in a concerted psychological directive to make you feel fat.
So, I picked up a way-cute maxi dress and went home to lick my wounds.
On Saturday we decided to get some stuff around the house done, like washing dishes and yard work. We also chose to go to World Market and splurge the last of our discretionary cash on some Adirondack chairs and then at Home Depot on some Tiki torches and plants. Lest you be confused, these are all happiness inducing purchases by making our yard a bit more like a sanctuary, and therefore, are totally worth it.
We assembled the adirondacks, set up the Tikis, grabbed a few vodka coolers and sat back to relax with the chickens. Nothing wrong with that.
Sunday's a bit of a blur now, but I do remember that we had dinner with Dave's parents that evening, and that we also spent some quality beer o'clock time with my good buddy Jack.
Monday, though, was the title bout, the main attraction and the reason for the three-day weekend.
We were prepared to do a significant amount of day-drinking, but not nearly the amount that we actually did. Well, Dave wasn't prepared, and he was throwing back hard ciders like no one in the world was going to make them anymore and he had to get his fill of them RIGHT NOW.
So, by the time we had all eaten our fill of ribs, chicken bacon skewers, grilled asparagus and beer (or white wine spritzers in my case. That crazy-pants session staring at my cellulite in the corner mirror at the department store did a number on my self-esteem) Dave was pretty much a drunkface.
Good thing we had lots of QT with our fabulous neighbors before then:
Bart and his sweet little morsel of a son, Hank.
Hi, Hank!
"Well, hello, yourself, lady with the camera!"
You are just tremendously cute, Hank. Thanks for being a good baby.
Notice the "rally cap" on Dave's pate and the sad look on his face. This is not a good sign.
"WHOOOEEE! DEM ARE SOME RIBS A'SMOKIN!"
The Bart action figure, beer grip comes standard.
This is George. When not trying to pull down your pants, he likes to splay himself out in the shade or on the kitchen floor.
This is George's partner in crime, Betty.
Bart is on the fence. Literally.
But he's in a precarious position because Dave egged him into some impromptu tree maintenance. The first thing out of my mouth after seeing Bart hop onto the fence: "BART! THE BOY NEEDS A FATHER!!!"
And here, Dave is shocked that everyone survived that episode (Well, except for the dag-nabbed limb).
The end!
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