Why I'm Currently Away

I mean, good grief. Doesn't anybody in this city have any translucent white paper for sale? What's a girl supposed to do to construct her own lightbox?

Be back soon. I freakin' hope.

A Picture Meme

Thanks to Sally Comes Unraveled for mentioning this meme. It's so very creative and fun. I encourage everyone who, like me, is now burning time before a major professional event (burnt-out brain cells, what can I say?) to give it a whirl.



1. Elizabeth - Liliana photomanip, 2. Shrimp and Penne Pasta Salad with Pesto, Bocconcini and Cherry Tomatoes, 3. Atitlan Dock, 4. Masjid Al-Noor, 5. D. Day-Lewis/Cosmos, 6. White Russian Unmixed - Lebowski Style, 7. Tutorial II - After, 8. squares, 9. The Letter Writer, 10. books, 11. Arc de Smart Triomphe, 12. One pretty boy

Directions if you want to play:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

No pictures and fewer words

I've been post-shy of late. Rather than spending time on the internet playing games, surfing Ravelry, and generally goofing off, I've been pounding away at final* revisions to my mystery novel, Death Under a Plastic Orchard. Today is the day that I have finished the book -- or, as a mentor of mine once put it, I beat it out of myself. Feels good.

It's a tremendous, 85,000-word milestone, one that is as fraught with uncertainties as all the other creative pursuits I "enjoy." Can I get an agent? Can the agent sell it? If not, will I write another? How many will I have to write before one can be sold? Is there really such a thing as a top quark? It's sure to be an adventure.

To that end, this blog has now spawned, in the interest of focus. My life and work as a writer and artist shall be detailed (but not too detailed!) here. I'm sure stray bits will find themselves to this here crafty blog, but I know the truth: y'all are out for yarn pr0n. Heck, so am I. Let's give 'em what they want.

This will be a cordial separation, with little property to divide and no children. In fact, the two blogs intend to remain close friends. But be aware that all agreements are off if the book gets published. (Just saying.)

Before long, I'm hoping for a finished glove shot. That's a maybe/maybe not kind of thing, which is a long story involving a bit of a joke I want to play... Let's just say, I can't wait for the FO pics. Not a peep till then, y'hear?

Ta!

* Ha, ha. There will be more, should it find its little way to publication. Only for now it's good enough to show people. That's saying something.

Economic Stimulus 2008

If anyone has been paying attention to economic news in the U.S., she will know that a vast swath of the tax-paying population (including me) are receiving $600 "economic stimulus checks," designed to save the economy from recession.

Heh. No, really, guys. Come on. There is nobody in this country for whom $600 is enough to serve as a life preserver. If you need a life preserver, you're likely looking for something on the order of $20,000 or more.

The whole "stimulus plan" seems to me like Congress and our president stayed up late one night, and in a fit of trying to sympathize with actual, struggling Americans, tossed this idea out in a grand "Let them eat cake!" moment, without thinking through the rest.

This is how I visualize their planning process:



This is the first glove, up to the pinky, of a pair I'm knitting for my fellah from Ann Budd's patterns. As yet, it covers the least useful finger of them all, and the rest are left to figure something out for themselves. Fortunately, I have skills, but how many people don't?

My stimulus check came a couple weeks ago. I donated a little to Doctors Without Borders:



I donated a little to the Nature Conservancy, to support their efforts in Costa Rica, chiefly rain forest conservation.

The rest I'm packing away in various schemes designed to (a) take advantage of a plunging stock market and (b) dodge this crazy inflation rate. We'll see how many more fingers I can cover before I run out of yarn and the hard winter comes.

Overheard

First dates. They're even worse when they're other people's.

Last night, at the table too close to ours:

GUY: Did you know you can find prostitutes on Craig's List?

(pause)

GIRL: Do you know that from experience?

GUY: What? No. No! I just heard it from, I mean, I just... I saw it on Dateline?

Let's Not Go Without Mentioning

Read this article, regarding Clinton's exit of the primary:

In a culture that’s reached such a level of ostensible enlightenment as ours, calling a powerful woman “castrating” – however you choose to put it – ought to be seen as just as offensive as rubbing your fingers together to convey a love of gold coinage when you talk about a Jew. It’s nothing other than an expression of woman-hate — and the degree to which such expressions have flourished, in the mainstream media and in the loonier reaches of cyberspace this year, has added up to be a real national shame.

I'm not upset that Obama has taken the nomination, but I wish more people, both men and women, would take note of what raging sexism has limned this campaign from the day Hillary said, "Me, too." Sexism - linguistic, professional, casual, automatic - is so accepted in the culture today that a person is often shamed into silence when sexist jokes are told, when bowling shirts with nudie girls on them are ordered, when a woman is assumed to be dependent rather than independent, when her opinions are simply not considered.

Not long after the Ohio primary, which Hillary won, a male sort-of-friend in Ohio wrote me in a fit of rage. He said something to the effect that "These women want to eat men alive and see us all dead." That is as close to the original as I can recall, since I deleted his email, but come on, folks. Get with it.

From where does this irrational male terror arise? Can you please tell me when the last time was that a man was scared to walk to his car alone after midnight because he might be assaulted and raped by a gang of hormonal women? What made the male employees of the theater where I saw Sex and the City on opening night stare at all of us with eyes widened in shock and fear, when we were just hanging out together and having a good time?

Get. Over. It.

Later in the same article, writer Judith Warner criticizes the recent Sex and the City movie for disallowing women to be dumpy or bitchy, from what I can gather. It's a shame she disses what was an imperfect film but an excellent event. Her critique is a throwback to earlier feminism that rejected anything traditional (crafters, speak up!). It's ignorant to insist that a feminist can't also choose to dress fasionably or be open about her sex drive. And as to the insistence that no real, working woman over 35 can be slender... come off it. You get no prizes for not taking care of yourself, no matter how busy you are or how many demands are placed on your time.

Read the rest of the piece - just disregard the SATC bits.

One in a Thousand

This weekend, the hilarious, witty, and quite-sweet-in-person Franklin Habit of The Panopticon came to Austin from Chicago to shoot at The Knitting Nest for his 1,000 Knitters project. On Saturday morning, I made the trek across town to take part.

I forgot to bring my own camera with me, but thankfully my knitting-friend Sally was there. Not only is it true that Sally Comes Unraveled. She also comes equipped with a camera, a folding chair, and no fewer than two WIPs at any time. Thanks, lady. You keep the rest of us from running out of gas.



It will surprise no one that I had no trouble chatting away while Franklin shot. Poor man; I may have taken him a little bit aback. One forgets after having spent so much time around actors that the neighbors leave the volume on a little lower, as it were.

That blue dress I'm wearing which shows up very little in the shot is a vintage dress I found accidentally one First Thursday on South Congress for $27. I get lathered with compliments every time I wear it, to the point where I either need to go back to the store for more vintage or find a way to make the dress wash itself so I don't have to take it off. After 29 years, I may have at last figured out "my look."

I shall have to make a "Habit" of it.

Badum-ching!

Overheard

At Central Market's bakery counter:

Lady Patron: Excuse me, are those muffins any good?

Male Employee: They're better than sex with 90 percent of the men you've slept with.

(Pause.)

Lady Patron: I'll take two.