Sunday, April 23, 2006
Knit-A-Paloosa
I went to the Knit & Crochet Show in Oakland yesterday. I was not nearly as dazed as I was at my Stitches West experience, attributed mostly to the fact that the show was much smaller. Which was fine. Because I still managed to spend plenty.
Carolina Homespun had the beautifully colored wool roving in my basket above. They were so squishally appealing, I had to get some to spin into yarn. The black & white I got from Royal Hare also to spin. Foxy Knits had a booth, where I could not, of course, resist their wares, coming home 4 skeins that, of course, cost an arm & a leg which I will, of course, let sit in my stash until such time as I can commit to the knit of that delectable yum called Koigu.And I came home with the most delicious basket ever and beautiful red print fabric from a vendor called Maendeleo with a storefront in Washington, but alas nothing on-line.
My sister came with me and we were sitting down eating some over-priced victuals when I looked up and saw this gal. I knew she looked familiar but I wasn't sure why. And I was sitting there staring jealously at her tiny arms and her tiny jeans as I sat eating my not-tiny vegetarian sandwich (that I split with my tiny-sized sister). She looked mega-hip and I kept wondering why. So I sauntered over to the Full Thread Ahead booth where she was standing and admired some adorable knitted projects that were on display. My favorite was this knitted tool set, over which I kept oohing and ahhing. I wondered aloud how I could make a fishing tackle set for my husband, to which the very hip-looking knitting lady glanced at me askance. Looking down at the table, I saw a book with HER posed on the front holding knitting needles. Duh. No wonder she looked so sauve...she was Vickie Howell, hostess of the DIY show Knitty Gritty, which I have never seen since I don't have extended TV cable, but which I have heard about. So I bought her new book, New Knits on the Block, she signed it for me, and off I went, feeling a tad chagrined.
My knitting addiction grows evermore; guess what everyone's getting for Christmas?
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 11:01 AM
Friday, April 21, 2006
sun days
We've had sun all week. It has had the adverse effect of making me aware of feeling glum. Perhaps it's the whole "shedding some light on things" theory. Perhaps it's the realization that I can't spend as much time outside as I'd like. Perhaps it's the fact that my skin is so white from lack of sun exposure that the glare blinds people. I dunno.
There is a mockingbird in a tree nearby who has laid claim to every single morning the sun has shone by trilling madly all day long. He copies everything he has heard, it seems. I recognize the calls of bluejays, crows, blackbirds, finches, cockatiels, parakeets. There is even a cellphone ringtone immersed within his repetoire. I didn't realize I hadn't heard any birdsong for weeks and weeks until I woke up every morning to this bird's singing. It seems such a small thing, birds singing. I hardly ever notice it. But after an exceptionally long spell of rain, when no birds were to be heard, the resurgence of their song is almost shocking.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 3:51 PM
Monday, April 17, 2006
Wayside Life
I have been spending a lot of time wondering how to improve my quality of life. I want time to do EVERYTHING, dammit. I want time to knit and read and spin yarn and cook and write and work and clean and work out and have sex and eat and pay bills and wrap birthday presents and spend time with friends and hug the kitty and shower and email and organize and spend time with Dave and relax. But there just isn't enough time for ALL of it. Something is always falling by the wayside.
We have entered a time in which women, for the most part, must work. There isn't really a choice any longer. Not if you want to sustain a certain lifestyle. None of the women I know really think in these terms. Of the fact that working out of necessity is a reality most of us live with. We live in an economic system and a social expectation that women work. And this isn't really a "bad" thing, per se. Women in the work force has created all sorts of socio-economic changes that are pretty phenomenal. But it's also created changes on the flip side that are sad in very subtle and gradual ways.
I never thought of these things before. Before the consideration of having my own babies came into play. I always accepted the norm, which is that I would work, regardless. But this weekend, as I looked around at a home that really needs a scrubbing, at projects that have been left to languish for months, even years, I realized there is just NO TIME. Dave & I both work more than full-time. I get home at night by about 6:00 or 7:00, which leaves about 3 hours to do things like make dinner, eat, feed the cat, wash the dishes, put away the dishes, tidy up the kitchen, look at mail, shower, return phone messages, maybe do a load of laundry, and all the other little things that need doing (sew a button, iron, order new checks, write a thank you note...). By 9:00 or 10:00, we're bushwhacked. By the time the weekend rolls around, the last thing I want to do is clean, and yet I have to make some attempt. Gah. Vicious circle.
I've decided I have too many interests, there are too many things that pique my curiousity. It would be much easier to have pedestrian interests.
How do people do it? Is this why people are having fewer babies? So much to consider. But no time for consideration.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 7:36 AM
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Shake Your Way to Español, Vol. 1
For some reason I have decided that I want to come back in this lifetime as Shakira. I don't know why. I think it's the hot dude with the curly lips in her La Tortura video. Which I found on iTunes (shocker). Or maybe it's her Bon Jovi ala Blaze of Glory fashion cum Neena & Veena bellydance grooves. I am singing songs in Spanish and have no clue what I'm singing. I play her album Fijación Oral, Vol. 1 on my iPod on the way to work, crooning in Spanish like I know what's what. I fake it with an Italian accent. I pretend it works and justify by saying I'm teaching myself another language. Forget Pimsleur. Gimme Shakira.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 11:12 PM
Monday, April 10, 2006
Spinning a Yarn
I haven't yet mentioned the fact that I borrowed a spinning wheel from a friend. And am attempting to spin my own yarn. And that I've never done it before in my life. But I figured it couldn't be that hard to learn. You see, that's the funny thing about me. I always figure things "can't be that hard to learn", with the exception of anything sports related since I have no faith in my sportsly abilities (perhaps if I'd been encouraged in a sporting direction as a kid, things would have been different...aerobics don't count). I always think that with enough determination, you can learn to do whatever the heck you please. You'd think as I get older, I'd know better. But I don't.
So I got this spinning wheel, and had my friend, T., show me how to use it. Then I tried it. I'm not sure how much anyone else knows about spinning, but I knew nothing. I didn't have any books and the stuff on-line seemed rather vague. But I tried anyway. She had some brown wool her son had brought home from one of his trips abroad, either to New Zealand or Britain, some place where they "grow" wool. Wool for spinning is called roving. So I had this big ball of brown wool roving. When I was watching T. spin, she used both hands, the right hand "feeding" the roving into the spinning wheel, and the left hand holding onto the big ball of roving. It seemed easy enough. I even went on-line to eBay in a fit of spinnerly zeal and bought all sorts of hand-colored roving from a wonderful seller who has a farm called Split Rock Ranch in Colorado.
So I got situated. You get your wheel spinning by peddling away on the treadle, which is basically a big pedal. I start peddling and the wheel immediately starts spinning the wrong direction. Which makes the yarn you already have on your spindle unwind (mind you, the yarn that was already on the spindle was yarn T. had spun, not moiself). I did that for about 20 minutes.
::peddle:::
::ffffffuuufffffftttttffffff::<--- sound of yarn unwinding
::shitandshinola::<--- sound of me swearing under my breath
::peddle peddle peddle::<--- sound of me thinking peddling faster will help
::ffffffuuufffffftttttffffff::<--- sound of yarn unwinding
::ohforheavensakeshitandshinola::<--- sound of me swearing under my breath
::REPEAT 100x::
Finally, after practicing peddling without bothering with the roving, I got the hang of it, sorta. So I try with the roving again. This time it actually goes in the right direction! Victory. Then I try to feed some of the brown wool roving. The spinning wheel sucked up like half the ball of roving in one gulp and I had what looked like one of Bob Marley's very long rasta dreds spun around the spindle.
::blink::
I will not cry
::blink:: ::blink::
I tortured myself like this for about 3 hours until my neck was so tense I couldn't move it for 3 days afterwards. I broke down and bought 3 spinning books on Amazon. I refused to touch the spinning wheel until I got the books and read through them. This weekend I tried again. This time with the roving from Split Rock Ranch. And by gum, I got it! It actually looked like yarn instead of hemp rope. So now I have a new passion. I know the yarn isn't perfect, but I made it and that, my friends, is pretty darned nifty.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 7:48 AM
Saturday, April 08, 2006
When It Rains, It Pours
Literally. It has been raining for something like 40 days straight. We're going Biblical. My gutters were overflowing again (yes, I know I should contact the landlord about it, but if we're moving soon, perhaps I should let it ride. Or maybe since we're leaving soon, I ought to get it taken care of...gah).
So, in keeping with the rain, I am also attempting all things at once. Those are:
1) buying a house
2) getting pregnant
3) looking at a new career
Jeffrey, who I used to work with in mom's office when we were both there, tells me I'm certifiably cuckoo. He's probably right. But the real trick about it is that when things are right to happen, they just happen.
1) The house came up because my parents sold a house in Hawai'i and have to buy another one or else pay capital gains. Voila, there's a down-payment for us. It happened now and we have to act now so we are.
2)Attempts at baby are being made because I'm not getting any younger and we both want kids, so why the heck wait any longer? No time is ever the right time. So we opted to start trying this year before the house thing even came up.
3)Mom wants to retire. I want a career that I have more control over (in some ways, at least). So I've started the agency process to become an approved candidate to be an insurance agent for the company I've worked for a lot of my life (I started working in mom's office when I was 16 making cold calls to ask people if they wanted a quote...someone should have told me that Monday nights in January were not a prime cold calling window of opprotunity and to expect to hear things like "What the hell are you doing calling me in the middle of The Game?!")
It's all coming together NOW, and there comes a time in one's life, I believe, where we realize that we can't control some of this stuff. So I'm not trying. I don't know when or if we'll get pregnant. I don't know if I'll get mom's agency when she retires. I don't know which house we'll end up buying. But the timing is happening according to Someone else's wristwatch and I'm surprisingly fine with that.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 9:34 AM
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
01:02:03 04/05/06
On Wednesday this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.
This was going around like crazy in email. Why does that kind of number synchronicity tickle me pink?
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 1:03 AM
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Listing --> House --> Home?
We're trying to buy a house. We are under the gun. I never thought my head could spin so much.
We've toured about 25 houses in less than 2 weeks. This done while our real estate agent was on vacation for 1 week. I scoured the open house listings for 2 weekends and we tramped through the rain to look at 14 houses this weekend. I've discovered more about the streets of Sonoma than I ever knew growing up here my entire life. How uncurious have I been all these years!
I can't believe how quickly your idea of what you can afford changes the longer you look at listings and run the numbers for a mortgage. And my whole thought process has had to be accelerated due to the time constraints we've got. You'd think $100,000 would make a big difference in your payment, but it doesn't. It's insane. We've gone from looking at properties in the low $500,000s (which are often dumpy or not dumpy but in dumpy areas) to looking at listings in the low $800,000s (which are nice homes in nicer neighborhoods, but not on the Eastside which is where all the chic people live...including my parents, ironically enough, but they're grandfathered in since they've owned there since I was born). In Sonoma, however, $800,000 is not what $800,000 is in another state. It all seems too ridiculous.
I daren't write about the houses we're interested in. I'm afraid I'll jinx it somehow. I don't know how you step into the real estate game without feeling like you're stepping over the edge of a cliff. Some people get off on that high, the riskiness of it. I look at it and gulp and my stomach does loop-di-loops and then I just take a running leap, grabbing my husband by the hand and yanking him along with me. If not now, then when? We won't have a chance like this again. Go for it. Take the plunge. You're going to land and however you land will not kill you. Bruised? Maybe. Broken bones? Possibly. Dead? Never. So go. [yes, in case you're wondering, you are witnessing me convincing myself as I type]
It's strange, this process. How a "listing" in the newspaper or emailed by an agent becomes a "house" once you've toured and had a look around so you can think if this can be your new "home." It's all so surreal right now. I guess I'll wake up once the first payment has to be made.
| Mrs. Botton was at it again @ 8:17 AM
