Meetup

my meetup group has slowly garnered about 14 members and we are in the process of voting for our first meetup. people are slow to respond however, maybe they dont check their email everyday? i would not have thought it possible, but i am addicted to the internet and will browse on my phone if i have nothing better to do (usually i do, but tend to ignore mundane household chores...)

meeting two of the ladies from the group today, provided they don't pull a no- show again like last time. would be nice to finally make some friends. summer is all right, there is a lot to do but it will be a long, freezing and lonely winter all on my own.

argh. its too early for thought.

But it rained!

"For the rain it raineth everyday"

--Feste, Twelfth Night

Enjoying the JC rainshower.

Enjoying rereading Feste's closing song. My favorite character in the play.

Dr Scholl's costs me a 'dime' and more

I've learned my lesson and that means no cheap shoes for me ever. Come to think of it, everything I buy at Wal-mart turns out ruinous in the end...so I got these fruit of the loom knickers at like throwaway prices...but I'm shocked...at how scratchy the fabric is. I've worn their tshirts before and my husband uses their vest. they are generally so soft..but these are a major let down. hope washing will soften them up a bit.

I got these Dr scholl's mary janes at about $20. should have known it was too good to be true. They ate away at my skin, kept rubbing it off and in 15 min, rubbed off a dime sized circle of skin. I'm not kidding. Sadly.

Gauged for a pain or socks in knitpicks 'playtime' colorway. 8 st=1". Will cast on tomorrow on DPNs.

Must learn magic loop!

iblock

Blocking mats, wires, hundreds of T-pins and plenty of finished objects. All soft and squidgy and smooshy. I like soft things. Fuzzy-wuzzies which I can press my cheek to, fluffiness which I can sink my feet in and cocoon myself in comfort. Knit, purl, purl, knit. What a life, and what an art. Wearable as well as creative, so sucks to you, grandma, for calling me old fashioned and my art ‘old housewives sitting on the front stoop with nothing better to do than clack needles and tongues endlessly.’

My stash is threatening to take over my apartment and UFO’s in various stages of execution lay about here and there. A couple inches of ribbing on the sofa, an unpaired sock on the table, a poochie sweater with ends not woven in. Frogged (sigh, it took me so long to do that much) sweaters lying in an ignominious heap inside the telly trolley. And yarn everywhere, fuzzy ends on the floor, tangled and untangled and detangled cakes piled about just anyhow. From creation to chaos and from chaos to a cosmic (well almost) state of new creation. Such is life, as I said before, and here I am, with the fruits of my labor draped about me, cloudy trophies of my art.

You doubt my art, ma’am? Since it seems plebian to you, well everybody can knit of course and everybody, they say, can dance and paint a picture. Everybody is me, and yet, not-me, because I am everyone and I am no one. Sometimes I am an average Someone, point for point an ordinary little homemaker with few ambitions and some fulfilled desires. More often, I am no one because my writing and my words are me and if the well runs dry, then the bucket ceases to exist. Meaningfully, that is. Words and thoughts swirl away as the water does and whispers fade into the air. You don’t believe me do you? All right then, give me back my lost words. Words that used to be and may still exist in some dark, dank corner of the internet. Can you find them and bind them together? I thought not.

Blocking mats and pins and shiny little points, prick my finger and feel the sting. I wish I could block the kinks off myself and be what everyone wanted to be. Frog that. Wish I could block myself into what I wanted me to be.

Clouds restarted and some cooking thrown in

I have an average of one craving per half hour. Not kidding. Sometimes, the want fades away, leaving a few soft sighs behind, more often however, it does not and I need to have it. The Cloud Bolero is one such thing. Wanting it in India where you can't get 8mm circular needles, frustration. Wanting ti in the US, with needles but no ring markers on hand. Sigh. Cast on. bliss. soft and easy? schmeazy! fatal mistakes and my poor bolero is frogged and reincarnated as two matching watch caps for husband et moi. and now- attempt 2. in a cheaper yarn, but hey what the heck. i need to have this!

i often crave non edible items and that guarantees non instant satisfaction. what is one to do then? simple enough- cook something every now and then. Today was Rajasthani day, with dal-bati and homemade gulab jamuns. The verdict is yet to come since we haven't eaten yet, but i live in hope. And the smell of cinnamon.

Irony

Here I am, eating crisps, while my husband works out at the gym. Ironic.

Here I am, buying more and more wool until it threatens to take over my closet (and sofa) and I'm frogging every other project. Okay, so the cloud bolero got frogged because I made a mistake in the pattern (ok, a really bad one) but I frogged the vest because I just didn’t like how the stitch pattern was turning out- and the yarn hurt my hands. Okay, I think, no more cheap yarns anymore. I finished a sleeve on the drops pullover, and slid it onto my hand to show my husband who loves the pale pink color. He strokes it and finds it a tad rough. Well, what else can you expect from an acrylic polyester blend?

I’m craving crisps again…not good!

So much cooking- chicken parm and samosa- rajma chawal and pav bhaji- kheer and pasta…sometimes I wonder- should I put up some recipes? Nah, I think- no one reads this anyway. And that’s fine.

I was so lonely when I first got here and now? I still don’t have any friends, but I go to a class occasionally, and I know my next door neighbor now (not well, they moved in a week or so back) but still it’s better than nothing. And I have knitting and watching the telly, dr who (and lusting after david tennant) and classic toons and unlimited Netflix on my DVD player…so yes, I am alone, but I’m okay.

Although I do look forward to my husband getting back- and I daydream about him off and on- mostly the creases about his mouth as he starts to smile. Not dimples, just creases. Intensely sexy.

And drooling over him while stuffing my mouth with lays crisps.

Irony.

cooks, cleans and knits.

and that sums up my life right now. and dont get me wrong- i am quite happy. happier when im not in a 'bright star' hangover, or cramping or frogging ...