Everybody Loves Saturday Night

But first, I need to respond to Mindy's suggestion--I'd been thinking of doing another exchange during the summer, but the idea of making a special Easter/Passover exchange makes me giggle. What would we call it? Secret Seder? Secret Last Supper? Secret Moses? Secret Angel of Death? The Super Secret Ma Nishtanah Is the Messiah, Is Not the Messiah Exchange?

Actually, Easter/Passover lends itself well to quickie knit ideas: Easter baskets, matzah covers...oy. Stop me.

I don't have an Oscar party to go to tonight* but I'm going ahead with my predictions anyway. I pulled out a ballot thingy from Entertainment Weekly to use, and like a lot of Academy voters, I didn't see everything, so if you're participating in a pool or contest, don't take this as any kind of actual, you know, knowledge. In fact, I'm hedging almost all my bets, because it's my blog and I can do what I want. I just wanted some kind of record so that tomorrow I can look at this and go, "Jeesh, could I have been any more off?"

Best Supporting Actor: Tim Robbins. Didn't see Mystic River, but even the majority of negative reviews have mentioned the phenomenal acting, so that's what I'm going by. I did see 21 Grams--Benicio could give Robbins some serious competition. In fact, votes could split between them, in which case the Oscar could conceivably go to Djimon Hounsou.

Best Supporting Actress: Renee Zellweger, I guess. I think it'd be awesome if Patricia Clarkson won, but she shoulda won for Far From Heaven last year. It won't be Holly Hunter, and it probably won't be Marcia Gay Harden. Because this category has traditionally been the "Surprise!" category, it could very easily be Shohreh Aghdashloo, who will then have to suffer through two egregious mispronunciations of her name. In fact, I'm changing my vote. It's totally gonna be Aghdashloo.

Original Screenplay: Lost in Translation. It's the pity "Sorry your movie came out the same year as Return of the King" award.

Adapted Screenplay: It should go to American Splendor, as another pity "Sorry we didn't nominate you for anything else" award. But it could also go to Mystic River, see above.

Original Score: Howard Shore, for Return of the King. A sure thing.

Best Song: "Into the Wind," from Return of the King, music & lyrics by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore, and Annie Lennox. Annie! Woo! But seriously, I think the two Cold Mountain songs will cancel each other out, and Triplets of Belleville probably didn't generate enough interest. Sentimental choice: "A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow," from A Mighty Wind. Oh, wait! Could the two "Wind" songs cancel each other out? This is the first year I'm looking forward to the song performances, but only if the songs are song by the ones who wrote/sang them. Annie Lennox? Catherine O'Hara and Eugene Levy? ELVIS??

Art Direction: Return of the King. Actually, if enough people saw Girl With a Pearl Earring, I think they'd vote for it--watching the movie is like watching Vermeer's work move, and that's worth something. If I'm not mistaken, Frida won this award over Fellowship, so perhaps the fact that Girl is about an artist will give it some pull.

Visual Effects: Again, Return of the King. And no, it's not because I loved this movie, or all three movies, even though I did. And it's not because I think Peter Jackson & Co. are more deserving this year than in previous years and RoTK is going to sweep because it's the last of the trilogy. I really do think that it's the most majestic and phenomenal achievement in movie making this year. Also, Gollum. If I recall correctly, Two Towers did not win last year, so Gollum needs some props.

Costume Design: you know, Ngila Dickson was involved with the costumes for both Return and Last Samurai, and if the Academy wanted to dam the flow of Oscars heading towards Return but still honor Dickson's work, they'd give it to Samurai. I don't know if they really think that way, but then again, I'm not exactly convinced that the costumes in Return are Oscar-worthy, precisely because they're pretty much the same costumes we've seen for the past three years. So I'll go with Samurai. What the hell.

Makeup: Once more, Return of the King.

Animated Feature: Finding Nemo. With a huge resounding DUH.

Animated Short Film: The only one I saw was Destino. It will win.

Live Action Short Film: I have no idea. EW picks Two Soldiers, so I'll go with that.

Sound: Return of the King

Sound Editing: Master and Commander. RoTK isn't nominated. It would also be cool if Finding Nemo won this one, and I think it's entirely possible that it will. You know, I think it comes down to whether I think this will be a safe Oscars or a fun Oscars. If it's a fun Oscars, then Finding Nemo. Otherwise, Master and Commander.

Cinematography: I have absolutely no idea why Return of the King isn't nominated for this, because the beacon fires scene merits its own reward. But I'll say Master and Commander, because it takes place on rough seas and probably made people queasy.

Documentary Feature: Fog of War. Maybe My Architect, but definitely not Capturing the Friedmans.

Documentary Short Feature: I would just like to point out the absence of Holocaust-related documentaries here, which renders my "always vote for the Holocaust documentaries" rule moot. I haven't seen these, but I know that Ferry Tales is about a diverse group of women sharing their stories while riding the Staten Island Ferry...and I'd like that one to win.

Foreign Language Film: I only saw The Barbarian Invasions and I loved it, and it's apparently the favorite to win.

Editing: OK, if the beacon fires scene didn't merit a Cinematography nod, then it should merit an Editing win, so I'll say once more, Return of the King. But I will allow for the possibility that Master and Commander will also win this one.

Best Actress: Charlize Theron. Unless it's that wild, unpredictable Oscars, in which case, either Diane Keaton or Keisha Castle-Hughes. The latter could easily happen if Keaton, Theron and Watts split the vote, which is possible. But I think Theron deserves it for having to put up with the insinuations that all a pretty actress needs is ugly makeup to achieve such a performance.

Best Actor: I love Bill Murray. I think it's impossible to walk away from Lost in Translation without a mongo-sized crush on Bill Murray, and I love that he won a Golden Globe, and I love that he got nominated. This race is the most exciting for me because here's how I see it: Sean Penn deserves an Oscar for all the other movies he's been in, so he could win. Ben Kingsley and Jude Law, not so much in the running this year. Murray could win. I think what's going to happen is a split vote between Penn and Murray, leaving the award wide open for Johnny Depp. Johnny Depp will be forever remembered as an exceptional actor (see shoulda-won performances in Ed Wood, What's Eating Gilbert Grape and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, to name a few) who won an Oscar for playing an over-the-top strung-out effeminate freaky comical pirate. What a world, what a world.

Best Picture: Return of the King, though my sentimental pick would be Lost in Translation.

Best Director: Peter Jackson, though again, my heart belongs to Sofia.

There are the occasional years in which Best Picture and Best Director don't match up. I wouldn't be surprised if this were one of those years. I also wouldn't be surprised if Clint Eastwood walked away with Best Director, but I wouldn't like it very much.

We will have three award winners who will make political comments as part of their acceptance speeches. Tim Robbins, if he does win, will be the classiest of that group. The issue of the night will be the proposed ban on same-sex marriage.

OK, while I'm at it, I think that the proposed Constitutional amendment to discriminate against American citizens will be narrowly defeated--defeated, yes, but narrowly--and that the Nader bid for Presidency will implode before the Republican National Convention. I predict that Kerry will win the Democratic nomination and select Wesley Clark as his VP. The first 70 degree day of the year in NYC will occur on March 29, but it will not last. Temperature-wise, spring will not arrive in full force in NYC until April 20.

I wish I could've watched the Independent Spirit Awards. here's a rundown of winners. Doesn't change my votes.

Hey!! There's a new online knitting magazine in town! Head to Magknits to check it out!

* You know, that sucks. It's the social event of my year and I'm sitting it home. It's enough to make me feel leperous (unclean! unclean!). There's no joy in making fun of what people wear if there's no one to hear me. I may hit one of the local bars to watch.

Or, I finish the week of meeting knitters by...meeting another knitter!

A week or so ago, I'd read on Iris's blog that she wanted to use some Silk Garden to make Rosedale, but was two skeins short. I happened to have exactly two skeins of the colorway she needed, so we arranged for a swap, which happened this afternoon at Knit NY. Here's what I got in return:



Despite my current aversion to sock knitting, I can't pass up Koigu. I love the muted colors in this yarn.

We spent a couple hours at Knit NY, chatting, drinking coffee, fondling yarn. Together we looked like we stepped out of a Noro catalogue--I was wearing my own Rosedale, and she was in her gorgeous top-down raglan pullover. You know? That place is a really cool and mellow place to just sit and chill out and knit for a while. People kept coming in to shop wearing their knitted goods, and we'd try to figure out what yarn they used. I do that anyway, but it's so much fun to do it with someone who knows yarn. The same way Iris could show me the new Rowan yarn she scored on eBay (did I remember that right? hope so) and I knew the appropriate response (which is, for all you non-knitters out there, "ooooooh"). Again, the mysterious thing that makes meeting someone I've only known online not weird happened. You know, I guess it's just not that weird. A lot of the time we'd reference something and the other would nod and say, "yeah, I remember reading about that." Maybe it's because so many of us are writers and/or read a lot (whether for business, or pleasure, or both), that we're able to form a bond with people we don't really know--we're well aware of the seductive qualities of language. Anyway, not to wax all philosophical and stuff--bottom line is, Iris is funny and sweet and an awesome person to hang with.

But wait! There's another knitter I need to mention, who paid me a little visit of sorts, via the United States Postal Service. The identity of my secret cupid is now revealed! Look what I got from Carolyn:



Perfect color, isn't it? Hopefully you can see the little flecks of hot pink in there. I'd stopped on my way out to check the mail, and there was the package--so I've been wearing these babies all day. They're perfect for this sort of not very cold but not that warm weather we're having. In fact, I think they kinda rawk! Thanks, Carolyn! And thanks to everyone who participated in the exchange. This was fun, yes? We should do it again, you think?

(Oh, yeah. I bought yarn today. See, I had this moment yesterday while I was setting up my first class--I'd taken my jacket off but I was still wearing this eyelash scarf I made last year, and all of a sudden, it hit me: I need more scarves. Huh? I don't know where it came from, but I've been around long enough to know I'd better listen to the Muse. So I picked up a couple balls of flashy, sparkly yarn. And to make things a bit more interesting, I also picked up volumes one and two of the stitch pattern Bible--Barbara Walker's Treasury. I couldn't decide between them, which is usually the time I think to myself, "Self, you're going to own them both sooner or later. Might as well be now.")

(Oh, and right...I saw up close and in person the Koigu Fancy that Rob posted about whenever that was, and it's gorgeous stuff, oh wow is it ever. I know what to get next!)

That's an exact quote, made by me about eight years ago, on this very day. Yes, it took me over a quarter of a century (makes a girl think) to find out why it's called "Ash Wednesday." It's not that I grew up isolated from Catholics, but I suppose the majority of Catholics I've known were, in the parlance of our time, "lapsed." Or something close to lapsed. Definitely not the Vatican I kind, at any rate. All this is to say, Happy Ash Wednesday, although I guess that's fairly similar to saying "Happy Yom Kippur," so take it for what it's worth.

I'm just meeting all kinds of knitters this week. Maggi and Mindy on Monday, and the fabulous Kay of Mason-Dixon Knitting this morning. Kay and her Southern cohort, Ann, are chairing the great Afghans for Afghans extravaganza, so I used up some Kureyon (ok, I'd read somewhere the correct way to pronounce it, and then I forgot, and Kay reminded me. It's not "KUR-e-yon" as in "makes for a great pun on a Kansas song," it's "Kur-AY-on," as in "crayon," because hey! Kureyon is Japanese for crayon. Amber's blog--Amber's now unreachable so I won't bother to reference it blog, but if you're reading this, hi Amber!--that's where I read that first) to make two squares. I sent Kay this picture but I hope she doesn't mind if I post it here as well. I mean, I made them. And I haven't posted pictures in ever so long.



I've named the mitred square Morty, for no good reason other than I like to name things after 80-year old Jewish men living in Boca. My rather lame attempt at log-cabin knitting is also shown here--I've named this one Frank, as in Frank Gehry. I think it's obvious why.

Kay is an incredibly charming and funny person, and even though I lurk about on her site and we didn't start corresponding until this Afghan/Rowan drawing (you know I'm really in it for the Rowan, doing it all for the Rowan, yeah yeah the Rowan...sorry *ahem* yes, and?), we easily fell into conversation, about teaching and books and Mel wassisname and how David Denby is great. And then Kay gave me half her bagel, because she's just that way. I am happy to have met her.

I returned to the Must Have last night, because the Silk Garden I'm using for Tilt is giving me some sass. It refuses to comply with the pattern gauge and get 21 rows per 4 inches, which is fairly crucial in this pattern. If I were anywhere NEAR that gauge I'd be happy, but going to 10s and then 10.5s still landed me closer to 24 rows/4", and if I use 11s, I lose the stitch gauge. I don't know what to do, aside from shrugging and switching to a different sweater, which doesn't exactly solve my problem.

I know. I know! I was in such a rush to get out the door this morning, running late not as usual, throwing one mother of a hormone-laced conniption fit because my computer wouldn't behave, while the one little piece of me that's not neurotic and/or scary just sat back and said, "you know, I'm tired of fighting her," that it wasn't until I got to the subway that I realized I forgot my camera. So gone! are all the wondrous pictures I planned on taking of my visit with Maggi.

It was a wondrous time. We met at School Products, a place neither of us had been (another shocker--it's so highly praised for their yarn and service, but somehow it's managed to elude me. Until today. And it will not elude me again, no no no). I told Mike on the way out the door, "Yeah, I probably won't buy yarn, or at least not that much." Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. When you walk into a store and the first things you see are giant--and I mean GIANT--cones of cashmere...Maggi took a picture with her funky spycam thingy that I think doubles as a palm pilot? It looked like a nifty gadget. Rach, that one's for you. And yes, we will go there. They ship. You're fine.

I did not buy a giant cone of cashmere, though I must say a pound of cashmere for $50 seems like a pretty damn good deal to me. I did buy a 7 oz. ball of cashmere that has to be the softest most gorgeous shimmery stuff I've ever seen.

I also got a skein of Lamb's Pride to make Mike a hat.

And a cone of cotton to make that retro dealie in the latest Interweave Knits. I don't know why I like it as much as I do, but I do.

And (yes, and. what?), a bunch of sheentastic grey linen selling for cotton prices. That will be a cardigan of some sort.

Shopping for yarn with Maggi is awesome. I highly recommend it. We managed to touch every single kind of yarn, oohing and squealing, sometimes wondering bemusedly, "what would you make with that?"

After about an hour and a half, we left to head uptown to the Museum of Natural History, where Mindy works. We had lunch at a fantastic Indian restaurant, and talked about all sorts of things. A lot of it was about children and raising them. Considering that lately I've been finding myself looking at kids and thinking, "I totally must steal that child" (today it was a curly red-headed boy, who I now realize reminded me of the boy who plays Albert Brooks' son at the end of Broadcast News [I can think, while I type, I am thinking and typing both!]) it was a useful conversation. Mindy gave us free passes to the Museum, because she rocks, but even if she didn't have the Museum of Natural History hook up, she'd still be a very cool person. Maggi and I spent her last hour in NYC (for now) going through a live butterfly exhibit, wherein I noticed a number of children I didn't particularly want to steal, and lots and lots of butterflies. They were beautiful, but I kept thinking I felt them in my hair. And I was afraid I'd step on them. Then we went to look at the exhibit of artifacts from the lost city of Petra, which was amazing and totally overwhelming. I wish we'd had more time.

And now I'm back, taking yet another break from grading papers to write this up. They're really good, but a lot of students chose to write on the same thing, and I'm finding it difficult to concentrate. Then there's the student who launches into what is either a rather poor attempt at a feminist analysis, or a joke directed at me, and I have no idea how to respond to it. He could be ass-kissing, I suppose: "I'll just throw something in about women being oppressed by asshole men, and she'll love it!" never mind that I've never brought any of this up in the classroom. I may have talked about how advertising uses women as props to sell things like beer and cars, but that's about it.

Chapter I: What's that smell? It seems toxic and deadly. Oh, no--have terrorists targeted the L train?

Oh. It's just nail polish.


Chapter II: wow, that guy must have a top-of-the-line advanced technology cell phone, because here we are, deep underground in Washington Heights, and he's having a conversation on his phone.

Oh. My mistake. He's having a conversation with his phone.


Chapter III: Look at that nice man, kindly repeating the next stop destinations for those on the train who might not have heard the subway guy's garbled announcement. And how fun! He's practically singing it. Over and over. "23rd Street is next, 23rd Street is next, 23rd Street is next." Great. That's going to be stuck in my head for the rest of the night.

*****

"Exotic," Annie? I say "crazy," but maybe I'm just being too judgmental. I was just reminded of my favorite New York crazy story, which I must share with you. Colleen, Mike and I had just been to see Bend it Like Beckham, followed by the obligatory beer/grub at a nearby bar. Upon leaving the bar, we all three lit up cigarettes (yes, so you see, this happened quite a while ago), and were approached by two men who seemed to be having issues--one was lugging a suitcase cart filled with...stuff (I can't remember) while the other was walking behind and being annoying, trying to step on the cart to make it stop (which seems really stupid--someone could get hurt that way). I don't remember why they stopped to talk to us--probably to bum a cigarette. It became quite clear that the annoying guy wasn't just annoying, but really, really weird. He went from rather anti-Semitic remarks about Bloomberg to anti-feminist rants about bookstores and Bush, before coming to the Russians, and how his friend is Russian, but he's really "my brother." And on and on about the Russians. Or "Soviets," as he sometimes called them. You're probably ready for the punchline by now. So here it is.

He says, "But I love the Soviets. I really do. And you wanna know why?

"Because they understand what it's like to be in space."

*****

In a perfect world, cats would not vomit.

Well, it's another day without pictures. In fact, I have very little news to report on the knitting front. I brought the Kureyon cardigan sleeve to the Sarah Jacobson retrospective last night, and had a very nice conversation with the woman sitting next to me, who weaves and makes pots and quilts--all things I would like to be able to do. I have also noticed, to my utter disappointment, that the Cascade Bulky Tweed is beginning to pill, ever so slightly. Finally, I moved on to the first part of the yolk yoke (oy!) on Tilt, only to find that my row gauge is now off. I'm going to have to do some 'sperimenting to figure out how to get the gauge right. Maybe going up one size would do the trick, or maybe using two different sizes at once...dunno. Stepdad's hat is upholding the tradition started by stepdad's socks, of being a pain in the butt. Note to self: learn to knit looser. Stop being so friggin' (up)tight.

OK, so, on to the political news of the day:

Our national debt, as of 5:53 GMT today, stands at $7,034,349,561,355.43. Don't know what that means? Find out here and here.

Item! The Bush administration has backed wayyy off on earlier predictions that this year would see the production of thousands of new jobs--strategery for the upcoming election, no doubt. Of course, if by some miracle, new jobs do appear between now and November, I'll bet the national debt that the Bush administration will claim, "we knew all along." However, at this point--pardon me for channeling Darth Vader--I find their lack of faith disturbing.

Some heartening news: Bush's poll numbers are slipping, and although he maintains an overall job approval rating of 51%, both Kerry and Edwards are leading Bush by double digits when placed in hypothetical elections. So: IT CAN BE DONE!

I was, however, disheartened by a report in the Daily News about Dean supporters announcing that they won't support anyone in the Democratic party, now that Dean has dropped out. I understand their disappointment, but this is the wrong battle to fight. The Democratic Party is not responsible for Dean's losses. Dean himself is encouraging his supporters to throw their support behind the Democratic nominee, because he understands that the biggest imperative is to defeat Bush.

Colleen sent me a great link-filled thing that I will put up, but I won't be able to until I get home.

It can be done.

Wanna read something delightful? Click here for the transcript of the White House press conference concerning the release of Bush's National Guard records. My favorite part: "You keep saying the word, 'serve.' Define 'serve.'"

I am a little late in getting all this up. I'm also late in getting around to Michael Moore's Dude, Where's My Country, but thanks to a brief bout of grief-related insomnia and two long subway rides, I managed to read it all in a day. And while I don't agree with Moore on everything and think his interpretation of statistics is, at times, willfully naive (I, for one, am not warm-fuzzy and secure in a 57% pro-choice majority), I think that this book is well worth reading. I didn't know, for example, that it's impossible to actually and literally read the language of the Patriot Act, because all it really does is amend already existing laws, and they aren't reprinted in the Act itself.

I am taking Moore at his word and hereby pledging to spend at least 10 minutes a day working to ensure a Democratic presidential victory. I realize that the number of people who read this blog is limited (I think I get maybe about 2000-3000 visitors a month, and that includes my own obsessive trips to the site) and many of you are liberal-minded people, but what I don't know is how many of you actually vote. The most optimistic chapter of Dude asserts that the majority of Americans are--gasp!--liberal! The majority of us don't want to see the environment ruined, don't want a repeal of gun laws and in fact want more gun laws (the best statistic? over 50% of NRA members want tougher handgun laws! I love that!), want universal health care, and so on. I was reminded while reading this chapter of all the people I talk to who say that they don't think Bush will be defeated this year, even though they aren't going to vote for him. The one glitch I found in this "liberal paradise" chapter of Moore's is that sure, a lot of people when polled will say they're pro-choice, they're pro-environment, they want this, they want that--but how many of them actually do something to ensure that the People in Charge work towards these goals? People, we have got to stop this defeatist "it doesn't matter what I do" attitude. Enough with the cowering in the corner, the shrugging of shoulders. Vote vote vote vote vote.

I love voting. I take part in any poll I can find. The only example of non-voting I can think of is regarding the next American Idol (but I kinda dig Fantasia. She doesn't give me a total Macy Gray vibe, and she rocked that Bonnie Raitt song, 'sall I gotta say).

I do have more to say, but I also have 30 papers that need grading. So for now I'll point you to the list of news websites that Moore lists in his book. You probably have seen them already, but I'm just getting around to them--oh, and MoveOn.org has a great new (or newish) 30 second spot called "Polygraph." It's good. Check it out.

For info on what the Patriot Act has done for you lately, and what you can do to support the Freedom to Read Bill, go to the ACLU site.

But first: thanks for your messages yesterday. The service was very moving, a perfect tribute to someone who had been so creative and inspirational to so many. Talk about compounding guilt: I had to leave before it was over. I was wearing loud shoes. I felt like a total yutz.

On the plus side, the synagogue that held the service is a Reform congregation--I may have found my new temple. Kinda excited about that. I'd been wanting to get back to Judaism for some time--since grad school, actually, but I couldn't get with any of the options I had where I was. Then I moved here and was just overwhelmed with options and didn't know what to do or where to start.


My brother's getting married!

My BABY brother's getting married!

That is all.


Some of you have noted my use of "meh," whether in conversation or here, as a way of denoting bland distaste; i.e., when something is "meh," it means it is not totally hate-worthy, but neither is it particularly pleasing. A watered-down "feh," if you will. Colleen has seen my "meh" and raised me a "schmeh," and I think it delightful and will henceforth be modifying my vocabulary accordingly.

Ex:

Do you want to see The Company?

I don't know; I heard it was kinda schmeh.

I have gotten a lot pickier about my movie choices lately, and I attribute that to the $0.25 increase in ticket prices, as though $10 weren't outrageous. Lately, though, I need to be assured of awesome spectacle before I fork over my $$.


Very low-key at Casa Em. We had options, like ice skating, or the Met--but if I've learned one thing from having people visit, it's that I never want to go to the Met on a Saturday ever again. I'm not sure why we nixed the ice skating option. Perhaps I can put that back on the table for...my birthday? *cough*

I suggested seeing if there was a movie we wanted to see, but Mike said, "Mmmm, I am pretty sure we could find something we want to watch here." He bought me something? I didn't get him anything. But he bought me a movie? Ooh! Wait--I bet it's Lost in Translation. It has to be. We both loved the movie, he knew I wanted to own it, it just came out...I wound up teasing Mike the rest of the day with questions like, "Is it a movie that perhaps takes place in another country?" "Is it a movie with a great soundtrack?" "Did this movie come out recently?" "Does the movie make fun of Cameron Diaz?" I had to stop then, because I would've looked like such a dumbass if it hadn't been Lost in Translation. But it was.

I found out this morning that a friend of mine has passed away (cancer). Now, it's been about a year since the last time we got together, and I hadn't spoken or emailed with her in quite a while, and I'm in shock. The memorial service is this afternoon.

'Slike, what do I write after that? Her name was Sarah, she was a great person to know, the first and thus far only time I ever sang karaoke was with her, in a private room somewhere in Little Korea, we did a version of "Love Shack" if I remember correctly, or maybe it was "I Love Rock and Roll." Both are plausible. Sarah made films, including a treasure called Mary Jane's Not a Virgin Anymore. Shortly after I met her, I started as the graduate teaching associate for the Women's Studies program at MU, and I wrangled up the money to get Sarah to come, give a little talk, and show the movie. The turnout wasn't the greatest, but for a conservative school it wasn't half bad, and Sarah and I had a blast hanging out and watching silly movies (ones she didn't make). The last thing I know she was working on was a short film about her 10 year high school reunion. She showed a version of it about a year and a half ago, and it was a riot. She also grew up in Minnesota, although we didn't know each other then, and we went to similar high schools. What she did was go around with her digicam and confront everyone who had been mean to her (you don't need me to point out the thematic relevance here, do you? I thought not). It was funny, but it had that extra Minnesota layer on top that I enjoyed--like the fact that practically everyone at her high school was blond.

But like I said, it had been about a year since I saw her last, and we weren't the closest of friends to begin with. If she'd had cancer when I knew her, she didn't tell me--not like it's something you go around telling people. "So, tell me about the date you had last night. Oh, and I have cancer." So I feel bad, shocked, etc., but also kinda removed and aloof, although maybe that's also the shock talking. But I think I'm also feeling guilt (whoa, big surprise there), for not having made more of an effort to stay in touch over the past seven or eight months. Things get away from me like that, far too often. I don't know where the time goes, when I'm not all that busy most of it. When I just sit around on my ass cruising the net or knitting a lot of the time. I'm not beating myself up here, really, and I don't feel bad for not feeling worse. I just feel...very sad. And a little guilty. That's all.

The only other thing that I've been thinking with regards to Sarah and what I knew about her is kind of an inside joke, but I offer it up as a tribute anyway: Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains.

My nod to the fact that it's Friday the 13th. I've never actually held much stock in that superstition, but I can't not mention it.

Hey, are people having pop up issues when they come to this site? I was reading over at Indigirl's site that she took down Tagboard because of the pop ups. I've got a really good pop up blocker, so I haven't ever seen any. No one's mentioned it here, but I thought I'd ask. I'd get rid of Tagboard too, if it became a problem.

So, I'm heading to the library soon. Actually going to do it. Banff is coming with me for support. I told myself that as a reward for spending at least two hours there, I can buy myself something from The Body Shop. But then, I'm out of the shower gel I use so that's more of a necessity. Maybe I'll treat myself to...a pizza! Will Diss for Food?

Try this one on: Mike was running errands around Union Square yesterday, and I asked if he would have the time to drop into nearby Knit NY to pick up some size 6 needles--either dpns or a 16" circular. I wrote it down, and said any brand would do, as I just want to get the stepdad present DONE. Man comes back with Addi Turbos. Saved me a trip and about $100--cuz you know I wouldn't go into any yarn store and walk out with just needles. Please. And thanks to the Knit NY shopperson who complimented him on the scarf he was wearing.

So I cast on for the hat I've decided my stepdad needs...and then immediately turned to Tilt. I mean, the hat will take practically no time at all, right? Right. But Tilt? What a great pattern! The sides are easy, mindless knitting, but I just love the way the stripes of Silk Garden look when they're vertical. And I love that what looks like ribbing in the picture is actually seven stitches done in garter. So simple, but so cool! The mindless knitting pieces are meant to wrap around from front to back, so they're very long--24". I've got about 22" on the first piece done, and now I'm thinking that I should have done an invisible cast on, since I'll be picking up stitches from the cast on side to do the button bands (oh, I'm looking forward to button shopping for this--Maggi, maybe we can detour on our yarn trip?). The yoke is done in four pieces--it will require a bit more concentration but the charts look pretty straightforward. I'm going to alternate mindless side pieces with the yoke pieces to keep it more interesting. Everything except the hat is on hold for this baby. I will take a picture soon.

The Kureyon sleeve had been my subway knitting the last couple days, and I'm almost done with that, too. Yoked in another knitter along the way to the beauty of Noro. Hey, I guess I'll be needing buttons for that, too! Darn.

1. We've pondered amongst ourselves about the relationship between writing and knitting. Now I'm wondering if they both have something to do with being bullied as a child. The pointy stick part, I mean.

2. Nothing beats the flirtation of little old Jewish men. My grandfather used to embarrass the hell out of me when I was a teenager by joking around with women we didn't know, but I get it now. The elevator I was on stopped at the third floor and the man (I'm going to say he's 80 if he's a day) waiting asked, "Going up?" When I said yes, he got on and said, "Ah, a lady on her way up." I'm still grinning. I love working here.

I've got 12 pages of an introduction under my belt, and the motivation to get my ass to the library on Friday to fill in the gaps I've left. An insight into my academic writing process: in order not to break the flow of thought while I type, I leave myself little notes in brackets, like "need example" or "explain more--check with Onslow" That way I don't have to stop writing, go to my bibliography notes, find the title, copy it, and then think, "what was my point again?" This is most convenient when I know I have to look something up in order to fully explain it, like who first used "The Woman Question" and how. I keep a list of things and books I need to look up when I go to the library. The main problem is actually going to the library. I love going there, it's a gorgeous place, but no sooner do I get my books and find a seat and turn on my laptop and get ready to work than all I can think about is either eating or sleeping.

It's amazing that I got anything written at all. My morning was rather annoying. I was multitasking, answering email while cruising my blog 'hood and composing my own scattered and random entry for the day, when all of a sudden everything froze and I got the lame-ass "The system is dangerously low on resources," which is such bull because I got resources up the wazoo, I am steeped in resources and I don't know why Dennis doesn't recognize (my computer's name is Dennis, because it's a Dell, and it's such an obscure reference and really dumb when you think about it that I just won't bother. Trust me, the mystery is better). Normally I take this sort of thing in stride, even when I've got a half-finished blog entry lost to the ether, but this morning I was devastated, because of one paragraph I had just finished that I was particularly proud of, that had taken a lot out of me to write, and that kind of moment just can't be recreated--and should it, even? I stormed, stomped, moaned, cajoled, everything short of throwing things, and then I remembered the electric bill was late and the Netflix movies needed to be returned, so I went out. On my way out I checked the mail and discovered the salmon-colored slip of failed delivery from the post office, figured it was my Silk Garden from Wool Needleworks, remembered the last time I tried to get the post office to redeliver, and decided I should take the time to go to the post office to pick the box up myself. How pleasantly surprised was I to find that, although the line at the PO was almost out the door, there was actually someone at the Pick-Up Only window and no line in front of it--fastest PO trip EVER. And the box did indeed contain my Silk Garden ($6.49 a skein!), color #88, destined for a springtime-flavored Tilt. In fact, I may have to start it today. Or now, even. Here's the yarn--doesn't this just whisper "early crocus flowers blooming springtime" to you?



While I'm at it, here's the first sleeve from the new Kureyon #90 cardigan--yarn courtesy of the fine dealers--I mean, men--at Threadbear.



I love how quickly I can knit with Kureyon. It helps that I'm making 3/4 sleeves, and I decided to try a picot edging, which you can't see because the stockinette curls up. It might be too bulky to hem back, so if I don't like the way it looks I'll get some ribbon to thread through the eyelets. I'm actually kinda more excited about the ribbon option at this point.

Rob has also sent me two luscious colors of Bearfoot for my stepfather's new socks, and I went with the bluer colorway, saving the purple color for me. Or someone else. Not sure yet. In order to get the socks to go quickly, I doubled up the yarn, but unfortunately was getting a smaller gauge than I needed on my size 5 dpns. So I either need to bite the bullet and deal with single-stranding, size 3s, and 68-72 stitches, go out and buy size 6 dpns and try again, or just give up completely and make my stepdad a HAT out of that yarn. I think that would be nice and cozy, but then, it's not the socks I promised. Then again, I have no guarantee that he would WEAR the socks, whereas he lives in Minnesota and has precious little hair and needs all the hats he can get.

Speaking of yarn, Colleen sent me this link a couple days ago, about a music video in which everything is made out of yarn. Yesterday, S. sent me a link to the video itself. I love that my friends understand my obsession. Now go buy me a swift and a ball winder and 40 skeins of Koigu.

The paragraph I lost was a musing on the differences between Blogger-me and 3D-me. I had said in a comment on Rachael's blog, kinda facetiously, that I am way funnier in text than I am in person, which I do think is true, if only because I have more time when I'm writing to revise a sentence for the biggest comedic punch. Then again, I don't often revise blog entries. Then again again, I'm kinda revising this one, aren't I? But it did get me thinking more about the public persona I put out here and how different, or if it is all that different, than the public persona I put out face-to-face. I'm not necessarily talking about subject matter, and why I won't talk about fights I've had or my secretest fears and anxieties and neuroses...well, you get the neuroses because they're pretty funny. The other stuff...I don't always feel comfortable writing anything when I feel stupid and dull and bloated, but then feeling uncomfortable also makes me feel uncomfortable because it's like I'm trying to hard to be likable, like the blog is really for readers and not for me. I suppose if you want to get ultra-technical a "blog" is for other people, as a compilation of links and commentary, and this is more like a web journal and hence the appropriate forum for discussing how dull and bloated I am, and I should really know by now that whatever I put out there at least one other person will think or even write, "Oh, yeah...me too." And it shouldn't matter if no one does. But it does, kinda. There's that need, that desperate ache for acceptance that I have had (oh yeah, this is what it was about, right) ever since I was little. I was picked on. A lot. Teased and bullied mercilessly. I was an easy target because I let it get to me. Even today, "Ignore them and they'll go away" sounds hollow and false to me, because that never worked. Ever. How do you ignore someone sneering in your face or spitting on you? How do you ignore a whole classroom of kids cheering when it was announced that you were transferring schools?* The whole "they're just jealous" bit also rubbed me the wrong way. It still does--I don't think that kids process emotions that way. I never learned to defend myself verbally or physically. I just worked extra hard to get people to like me--or at least not laugh at me. I'm over it now but bullies still really piss me off (and it's still hard to take when people laugh at me when I'm not being intentionally funny). The funny thing is that in my adult life I have become friends with people that would have been the ones picking on me as a kid. Does that mean they got nicer or I got tougher? I still don't understand what is so necessary about tearing someone down. I don't understand why bullying makes some people feel good about themselves, or why they turn to bullying if they don't feel good about themselves. I feel an Elvis Costello cover of a Nick Lowe song rendered so wonderfully in a Bill Murray movie coming on.

Bottom line: I guess I'm not all that different--these are my thoughts, my personality, I'm not hiding anything, although I am deliberately choosing which parts of my life to make public and which ones need to remain private. Everyone does that, whether they blog or not.

* I didn't transfer because of the bullying. A program for really super smart kids had started up and I'd passed that test. I got teased there, too--but not nearly to the same extent and besides, with a last name like mine, it would be unnatural for me not to get teased a little.

P.S. a warning to all cat owners out there who also subscribe to The New Yorker: brace yourselves for the Chris Ware piece. 'Sall I'm sayin'. I had to hug my cat for a solid half hour afterward--he wasn't too thrilled with that, but it made me feel better. Good Lord, but that Chris Ware is good. If you don't have a cat and are still upset/disturbed, come on back and click here. Hee. I don't know why this picture makes me giggle, but it does.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the Beatles' first appearance on Ed Sullivan, and everybody and their monkey have been doing "Tributes to..." to the point of oversaturation and meaninglessness. I didn't watch the Grammy Awards last night, but they, too, had advertised a tribute. Even Entertainment Weekly ran a little story this week, asking the rhetorical question, "Are the Beatles still relevant in this hip-hop world?" and running to the lead singer of Blink 182 for the answer. Yes, I find that rather inexplicable as well.

I have been in love with this band since grade school. My personal musical journey begins with them, and it will most likely end--as much as musical journeys can--with them. There was a time when I could answer any bit of Beatles-related trivia. My two favorite albums are Revolver and--this came as a surprise to me, actually--A Hard Day's Night. When I was younger I loved the later stuff a lot more, but when I went back to HDN a couple years ago I was blown away by the intricacies and depth to what I had previously dismissed as "cutesy pop." This all might sound kinda silly coming from someone who was born a year after they broke up. It shouldn't, though.

I had a fantastic weekend, full of splurging. Saturday we met some folks for brunch and then gallery-hopped our way through Chelsea. I always forget that I can do this--for free, no less! Contemplated going to a couple shows, but then opted for 21 Grams, which is hands down the most brutal movie I've seen since...well, since Amores Perros, actually. You know, I'm not even sure I liked the movie all that much. I loved the performances, I loved the non-linear narrative, but the movie ultimately left me feeling cold. And not because I was emotionally drained. I think it's a movie I can appreciate and support on an academic/aesthetic level, but I wasn't moved by it. I think I'm weird.

The other highlight of the weekend was having not one, but two cab drivers who knew how to get to my street in Brooklyn.

I got the new Interweave Knits a couple days ago. Anyone else feeling a bit "meh" about this one? I haven't read through all the articles yet, just took a couple glances through the patterns, and I can't tell if it's the patterns I'm not overly impressed with, or the models (and the bizarre haute couture paired with the sweaters), or the photography. Or all three? The two designs that stood out for me are Stella's Blouse--the retro, pleated, short-sleeved sweater by Robin Melanson (it fits perfectly with my teacherly wardrobe--must have yarn for this soon) and the faux cardigan by Rona Feldman--but could the model have been photographed without the shadows hiding the yarn details? Please! And P.S., please bring back the models with breasts. Thank you.

How awesome is that? It's my Cyborg Name. Got the link from Alison, who got it from Theresa.

Knitting Wednesday was wonderful. I've never really had a group of women that I regularly meet or communicate with, and I sometimes think about my grandmother's bridge club friends, who would meet every Thursday afternoon for tea and sandwiches (and, I assume, bridge, although by the time I'd get home from school they were well past the cards and into the chocolate candies and talk). These women had known each other for years--decades. I've longed for that kind of group, even though I don't know how to play bridge (and besides, I think I'm more of a mahjjong person).


You can see a picture of me in Banff and knitting away at a Rumba beret on Cari's blog, and here's another picture--Cari took this one with her camera, and it's better than the one with my camera, so I thank her for sending it along!

I made minor modifications to the sweater pattern. I made the smaller size but the longer length, and I shortened the arms just a wee bit. I also made the neck about an inch shorter, partly because I was afraid of running out of yarn, and partly because I didn't want the neck to engulf my chin.

I love this sweater. I know I complained about knitting it--my Knitting Wednesday pals protested that it took me no time to put it together, and I know they're right, but it felt like a long time, especially when my head had been turned by cables and twists and the last thing I wanted to do was stockinette (this explains my sudden aversion to socks as well). But it was worth it. I've worn the sweater three days in a row and frankly, I never want to take it off. I love the bell sleeves and the way they fold up to be out of the way. I love the roominess of the sweater. It is SO comfortable and SO soft. Lurve. I highly recommend the Cascade Chunky Tweed--but I did need an extra hank of it for Banff and wound up having just enough.

After frantic consultation with Rob last night, I think I've settled on a solution to my Regia sock aversion: Bearfoot. He's sending me a couple different colorways for my stepfather's socks 2.0, and when they get here I'll have to drop everything else to get them done. So many projects calling my name. So many. Including the Trendsetter yarn I got with my friend S. in mind--the S. that's coming to visit this weekend. Think I can whip out a scarf before she gets here at 5:30? Hmm. It could happen. I was hoping I could figure out an interesting lace pattern for it, but perhaps I should just bite the dropped garter stitch bullet and be done with it. How very uninspired...but then, she'll never know.

I'm so exhausted after this week that I wish I could just sit at home and relax all weekend, but I am glad that S. is coming, because it's been about five months since we've seen each other. I slept in this morning but I would really like to go back to bed again. It's raining and drab (blame it on the rain? ouch) and perfect sleeping weather. I am so glad I have no grading this weekend. I don't even have any lesson plans to figure out. We've been working on image analysis, which is always one of my favorite things to do. I had them bring in magazine ads to critique yesterday, and they did such a great job that I think they're ready for the next layer of analysis (fitting it all into American ideological constructs--this can be really tricky because it requires people to stand back and look at the bigger picture, which is difficult to do when you LIVE in it), so that's where we're going. Yesterday was one of those "I LOVE TEACHING" days.

I am. I am in deep smit. I have been for a couple weeks now, but I kept waiting for something to go wrong, because something usually does. But now I don't care if it does, and I don't care if I'm not able to fully justify my love. Because if loving John Edwards is wrong...

I don't quite know what it is. According to the National Journal, he's not as liberal in his voting record as Kerry has been--although perhaps discrepancy in years of experience is partly accountable for that. I'm not that fond of the fact that he seems to have used his Senate seat as a leg up. I am impressed with the way I've seen him relate to people while on the campaign. The New Yorker puts it best, through a comparison with Dean during the Iowa and New Hampshire campaigns:

At town-hall meetings, Dean delivered his responses to the TV camera; Edwards never broke eye contact with the person who had addressed him.

He must have been one hell of a lawyer, because when he starts stumping, my heart just flutters. Maybe I'm just a total sucker for the kind of optimistic "together we can rebuild the country" patriotism that seems reminiscent of decades past, and maybe it is that dogged spirit of optimism that has broken down all the cynical walls I have spent the last sixteen years building up. Maybe I'm just a sucker for a pretty face (well, that much is true). Too late now. I'm dreaming of a Kerry-Edwards ticket.

I also have a crush on the Massachusetts Supreme Court. In your face, "Defense of Marriage" Act!

I'm must get ready to head over to Cari's now. I love that I'm being referred to as "The Divine Ms. Em." I should travel with my piano accompanist everywhere. Get well soon, Mr. Manilow!

I am trying very hard to not say anything about that Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake display. I'm not winning that struggle. Are they kidding? I was so convinced it was nothing more than a "whoopsie" (and a rather amusing one at that), especially since I was convinced that Ms. Jackson looked P-I-S-S-E-D O-F-F right before the lights went down. And now she's saying it was planned, but went horribly awry? Which part, hon? Does "wardrobe malfunction" (this is, hands down, my favorite piece of rhetoric yet this year) mean Justin meant to rip off part, but not all of her bodice? Because then what was up with the L'il Kim-esque sequin thingy on her boob? Does she wear that normally (it is a nipple piercing, after all)?

OK, so that much is confusing and weird, and I'm possibly in the minority among people who weren't offended by the "display." Frankly, I find that perplexing. The whole halftime show was in questionable taste, from those quasi-stripper dancers ripping half their clothes off to Nelly to Kid Rock rapping about bitches 'n' hos. And that's what they're trying to pass off as "family-oriented"? Honey, please. And the FCC is going to concetrate their investigation on Janet's breast, because that's what's really scary and obscene. Right. I honestly can't believe that so much is being made of this one little thing. Because it IS a little, little thing. So a bunch of people saw a boobie. I highly doubt that's what's going to send kids screaming into therapy. Would anything have come of this if the wardrobe hadn't malfunctioned? Do people really believe that even network television still lives up to any kind of decency standards?

On the other hand, Justin Timberlake's (dang, who woulda thought I'd be typing that name twice on my blog?) ripping of the bodice while singing "gonna have you naked by the end of this song" doesn't exactly fight against the general objectification of women.

What I'm far more worried about are the young women who continue to view their bodies and the bodies of all women as dirty, cheap, expendable, and wrong.

~~~~~

Am I the only one who was more shocked by the explicit nature of the impotency pill ads? From Mike Ditka throwing a football through a tire (symbolism!) to the actual warning, "Erections that last over four hours, although rare, should receive immediate medical attention"? Clearly these people don't know from Tantric.

~~~~~

Banff has a neck! I'll take pictures soon. I may even wear it to Cari's tomorrow.

1. I am woefully behind on my movie viewing.

2. I really want to paint my apartment.

3. I have no right to start new knitting proejcts when there are holiday gifts yet to be finished.

4. I kinda suck at seaming.

5. I really hate Budweiser ads.

6. I wish I could channel Simon Cowell to grade student papers. "That was absolutely horrific."

7. I have no idea who half these people are on Survivor: All Stars. But I don't like any of them.

8. Joan of Arcadia is my new favorite show, and if anyone had told me I'd be watching--and loving--a show about a teenaged girl who talks to God, I'd laugh them out the door. But really. It's quite good.

9. Return of the King is just as good the second time around.

10. When the hell is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind coming out? I only just got the title straight. Not a huge Jim Carrey fan, but this looks interesting and fun and it has Elijah Wood in it, who just happens to be my movie star husband, according to one of those quizzes I took.

I am really in no mood to do this. My weekend was marked by several frustrations, none of which were very big, but accumulated in a way that made the simplest task like cleaning out the litter box fraught with tension and stress. I got some papers graded but because they're the first papers of the semester they're taking a lot longer than I would like. I just can't seem to become the kind of teacher who can spend no more than 10 or 15 minutes on a paper. I spend too much time thinking about how to tell them to improve their writing. I value revision, but sometimes I wish I didn't, because it would be so much easier to slap a grade on a paper and move on. I treasure concise writing, but I can't limit my own comments.

Blah. It's just been blah. I feel blah, even though I went out and found closure to one of the weekend's frustrations (short version: I needed more BC pills, the Brooklyn clinic had RUN OUT, I went to the Manhattan clinic outside of the designated pill-pickup times, finally got them today), and went shopping for more food. I feel very mundane.

On the knitting front: Banff is seamed together rather crappily (see #4) and just needs a neck. I'm feeling the pressure to work more so I don't know when that neck is going to happen. I really need to get working on those boring Regia socks, but I'm desperate for a different knitting present for my stepfather because I really, really hate these socks. Unfortunately I don't have enough plain yarn in a manly enough color, so I'd have to go buy some...yeah, like that's a chore.

I should get back to work. My friend from Boston is coming to town this weekend. We were going to see Suitcase but tickets have sold out for all but three shows. Impressive! So now I think we're going to see the brother of one of Mike's colleagues from the poetry program play in his band (I love connections like that) and I'm sure we'll find other things to occupy our time. When S. comes to town, it means Veselka's. I love Veselka's, with its dazzling array of pierogies and stuffed cabbage. This new diet doesn't allow for pierogies, but I think a friend visiting is a great excuse to stray just a bit. I'm only human, right?