Saisquoi?

So, I knew today was going to have a few snags. Any morning that begins with an 8:00 AM booster shot for your toddler has the potential for...high drama. I figured I was just exceptionally lucky when we made it out of the doctor's office with no screaming and only a small meltdown when I left her at school.

I went off to work and tried really hard to focus. It being the day after a very long weekend, my brain had a really hard time remembering what it is we do to make money. So that was fun. Then I got an e-mail notification that I had a new voice mail message. I checked it. It was for my husband--a woman who I didn't know left an exceptionally vague message, the gist of which was "Long time no see; call me and we'll talk more about...that thing."

I did what any curious wife would do--I googled her. And I came across a listing for a DIVORCE LAWYER. Yeah. Hello, Monday!

As I sat at my desk and felt myself turn into a quivering pile of nauseated self-doubt and panic, I tried really hard to listen to the Voice of Reason. The VOR said things like, I bet she does other things. Like Wills. We need to write up a will and you've been pestering him for 2 years to get it done. Or bankruptcy. Maybe this has something to do with those student loans we thought were cleared up but have perhaps never gone away. All the while, mind you, the Voice of Panic is jumping up and down, yelling DIVORCE LAWYER!! SHE SPECIALIZES IN DIVORCE, SEPARATION, AND CUSTODY ISSUES!!!!

After the VOP took a baseball bat to the VOR and I considered telling my boss I had to leave RIGHT NOW, going and picking up C, and checking us into a hotel somewhere while I found my own divorce lawyer, I decided to call my husband and ask him if he wanted to tell me anything, perhaps about why a DIVORCE LAWYER was calling our house?!

Oh--he says--I got a notice about a hearing regarding a case I worked on in 1997 and I was asking her if she thought I needed to be present, considering I'm no longer a member of the Bar. Didn't I tell you about this? Um, no. No you did not. Oh--he says--the County Court office might be calling, too, because I called them to ask as well. Awesome. Thanks for giving me the heads up on that one.

I'm on my second glass of wine right now. I think I might possibly relax at some point before tomorrow. Perhaps. I may also have another glass of wine.

On a completely unrelated note...I started another blog! If you want to see what I think of one of the daily office readings for the day, come visit me at borderlinedivine.blogspot.com. If you couldn't care less what I think about the Bible, that is all good, too. I'll hopefully be blogging here a bit more regularly...as I've said many a time before.

Hey, remember this?



This pair of socks is the bane of my existence. The Roman Catholic church may have done away with Purgatory, but I tell you these socks make me wonder if we don't, in fact, have it here on earth.

So, when last I spoke of these blasted socks, I was unhappy with the striping pattern and wondering if I shouldn't rip them out and try again on larger needles. Instead, I started the second sock on larger needles to see how it looked. And, frankly, I liked the sock on 0s better. The stitches are so tidy and small. And the sock fits really nice. And maybe the pooling isn't that bad and the striping isn't horribly obnoxious:





But, look where I am on the sock:



As you can see, there's still a fair amount of foot and toe left before sock #1 is finished. And I don't know if I have enough freakin' yarn. Yeah.

Now. I may have plenty of yarn because apparently I was on crack when I wound the skein into balls and one ball is larger than the other. And I started with the smaller ball. So, I'm wondering if I shouldn't put this sock aside and knit the second one and then finish up when I know I have leftover yarn?

To tell you the truth, though, this sock is no longer making me happy. In fact, the sock has seemed to work against me every step of the way. I've a mind to stick the sock and the other ball of yarn in a bag and shove the bag to the back of my stash until my mental state has improved somewhat.

It's a shame, though, because the yarn has been wonderful to work with (striping aside)--it's really soft and I bet finished socks would be a divine wearing experience.

Sigh.

On a happier note (hopefully), I finished the body of the Beloved's Cobblestone Sweater yesterday and will start the sleeves today. No pictures, though. Honestly, it looks just like the other pictures--only longer.

This has been part of my problem in regularly maintaining what seems to be mostly a knitting blog...I'm slow and so there's not much to report. Still knitting the sock. Still knitting the sweater. Doesn't look much different. Meh.

Add that to my general to severe sense of malaise of late and...well...bad blogger.

On the malaise front--I thank everyone who commented and/or e-mailed regarding my last couple of posts. I truly appreciate the warm thoughts. Things here are...maybe not better, but not quite so grim. The Beloved and I had a...discussion...about how things are, how I feel, and how I can't have this be my problem. I mean, I treat it like my problem. I very much see it as my problem and feel like it's my problem--largely because I don't get a sense from him that he sees any sort of problem at all. Which mostly leaves me feeling....like I'm not enough. Or like there's something wrong with me that makes me as bothered and upset as I've been. Part of me thinks it may be time to dig my therapist's business card out of my wallet. And then another part thinks, well, what the hell is he going to do about it? He can't fix anything or make it better. I don't know. It all just seems to require more effort or energy than I can muster right now.

Polly knows how I feel. Well, on the energy front.



It's hard work being that cute. Seriously.

I meant to post a weekend roundup yesterday, but was a) too lazy; b) without photographs; and c) too lazy. I'm still without photographs, but felt as though I could post now and perhaps do a picture-heavy post later in the day. If I can train The Beloved to use the point-and-shoot camera, that is.

So, here's what I did this weekend:

1. Got a cholesterol test done. I know, I know, you're all jealous. It was a lot of fun. Particularly when the phlebotomist couldn't find a vein. After she stuck the needle into my arm. The bruising is highly attractive. I don't quite look like a junkie, but if I had waited another week or so, it would only have added to my Amy Winehouse Halloween Costume.

2. Visited my grandmother. Visited is a loose term. I sat with her for a while. My grandmother is not doing so well and when I saw her on Saturday, she was completely non-responsive. I believe they were going to stop the antibiotics and take her off of most--if not all--of the other equipment last night, but I haven't pulled it together enough to call my mother for the update. If you're a praying person and can stop to light a candle for her, I would be greatly appreciative.

3. Cut all of my hair off. Pictures would be helpful here, no? Alas, The Beloved was not able to manipulate my Canon Elph. Yeah, it's a point and shoot. He doesn't quite grasp that he needs to hold the button down until it clicks, and I just didn't have the patience to deal with him last night. I had taken a couple of pictures of myself with my camera phone, but, let's face it, they are of such craptastic quality that I can't in good conscience (and in complete sobriety) post them on the internet. Hopefully, tonight, we will find that the husbeast can, in fact, be trained.

Anyway. I'm happy with the haircut. It's a good change, it looks good, and it's easy for me to style and manage and stuff. The Beloved thinks I look like River Phoenix as the young Indiana Jones. What a charmer!

4. Looked at wedding rings. Yeah. Never thought I'd have to do this again, but about two weeks ago I developed a severe case of eczema on the ring finger of my left hand. It still hasn't cleared up all the way. I moved my wedding ring to my right hand and began to grow a nice little spot of itchy pain between my ring finger and my pinkie finger. My rings are now on a chain around my neck--I feel like I'm in high school.

Now, I know that it may not be an allergy to the ring itself--as my auntie says, it is probably an allergy to the soap that gets under the ring when I wash my hands. Or it's contact dermatitis aggravated by the band being too tight (it's not) or too wide (possible--it is on the wider side, particularly when I wear it with my engagement ring). But that doesn't explain why I don't have a problem when I wear silver rings--I have one with a wide band that I wear on my right hand that has never caused a problem. And I have never been able to wear gold in my piercings--ears or nose--without having a painful reaction. I don't know if it's the gold, or if I'm just really sensitive to the other metals they use in creating the alloy, but, let me tell you, the possibility of being allergic to my wedding ring really sucks. If the eczema on my left hand ever finishes clearing up, I'll give the ring another go before I call the doctor for some tests. Then, the search for a solution begins.

I went to the jewelry store to ask about having the inside of the ring plated or coated with something--rhodium, I think (I read about this online and wanted to see how much it would cost and how often I'd have to have it done in order to wear my wedding and engagement rings--both gold--without this fun little reaction) and no one seemed interested in talking about that. They were really interested in showing me all of their platinum rings. Platinum, after all, is nearly hypoallergenic. And, after all, "you're worth it." The Beloved is not so sure about that. Fortunately for him, I'm not scouting diamonds as well. We watched Blood Diamond on the HBO preview a couple of weeks ago, and, let me tell you, it really turns you off of wanting a nice big rock on your finger if you're thinking your money is going to arm ten year old boys and support genocide in African nations.

When I first bitched about this over Sunday coffee a couple of weeks ago (the owie finger, not the genocide thing), my father was the one who suggested putting the ring on a chain. "After all," he said, "You've got the husband. What else do you need?" And he's right. Except that after wearing a ring on that finger for seven years (five married, two engaged), I feel naked without it. I don't care if we get a plain silver band--I just hate looking down and seeing nothing there....well, except for the red band of dry, irritated skin, that is.

5. Went out for Teppanyaki with The Beloved. He had never been before. There's something really fun about watching someone play with knives and fire whilst preparing your meal. Plus, the food was quite tasty.

6. Indulged in retail therapy. No, I probably didn't need the Vera Bradley bag. But it was sooooo pretty. Besides, my auntie commented on the hugeness and overstuffed-ness of my everyday handbag, which made me feel bad. This is much better. Too small to overstuff.

7. Celebrated Baby Brother's 20th birthday. How the hell did he get to be 20? No one asked my permission on this one. I'm not sure how I feel about it. How can he be 20? Wasn't it just the other day that he was in love with Libby and chasing her around in full Power Rangers regalia? Or dressed as a purple dinosaur? Anyway. The official date is today--the Baby is now 20 years old. I think I need a lie down.

8. Worked on Conwy. Yeah. Remember that sock? I'm about halfway done with the foot on sock #2. The end is in sight.

9. Ordered yarn for the Romantic Hand Knits-along. I'll be knitting "A Room With a View" and I'll be knitting it in the colors used in the book. (Saisquoi receives a C- for creativity and thinking outside the box, I know.) I thought about doing the sweater in brown with white lace, but thought I'd look too much like a pilgrim. Plus, I like blue. I look good in blue. And I'm trying really hard to wear more colors. I've fallen into another gray/black/brown/ecru rut.

So, there you have it. Sort of busy. Busy enough that Sunday night found The Beloved and I watching Children of Men on the Cinemax free preview wondering where the weekend went. And why we keep picking such "feel good" films to watch.

To tell the truth, we've been home since late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. But I've been recovering...er...reacclimating from my vacation. There's still more laundry to do before going back to work tomorrow, but I'm taking it slow. OK. I'm enjoying my last day of freedom before getting back to my (albeit greatly reduced) work schedule.

But, before I return to the fast-paced world of library-consulting, let me show you what The Beloved and I were up to! On Tuesday last, we flew out of NH and landed ourselves at O'Hare airport in Chicago. We stayed outside of the city in the Chicagoland area in Bloomingdale at the Indian Lakes Resort. To get there and back again, we rented a car. The Beloved was good enough to drive, mostly because he forgot to add my name to the paperwork and I refused to drive in case something happened and we weren't covered.

Here he is in our PT Cruiser. Isn't he cute? The car was kinda fun. We're going to have to buy another car at some point in the near future, and we'd like one with back doors. This has a huge gas tank and appears to get decent mileage.

So. The hotel. The hotel was nice, but it was absolutely empty when we got there! I suppose that's what happens when you start vacation on Tuesday. It was decorated in a sort of arts-and-crafts-Frank-Lloyd-Wright sort of ways. Except for the cave in the middle of the lobby. Seriously! A cave! And not just any sort of cave--a cave bar. We were intrigued, so we went for drinks. Very expensive drinks. With very little alcohol. And snacks. Which were also expensive. The cave bar was not, actually, our favorite place. In fact, I think it was the only time during the trip we felt ripped off. Fortunately, we got that out of the way early. Anyway--what it lacked in food or drink quality, it made up for in ambiance:

Our room was nice. But, again...weird. The arts-and-crafts theme continued, it was spacious (we had two beds, which seemed a little excessive, but The Beloved made the reservations), and the bathroom was very large. However, it didn't have a coffee maker. For normal people, this might not present a problem. For me, it was next to tragic. Even more confusing? There were coffee pods in the bathroom, along with cream and sugar packets. It was like they were toying with me.

But they did have pretty things on the ceiling. Look!

And that, my friends, was day one of our vacation.

On day two we met up with R & M at the Art Institute of Chicago. I loved it. The Beloved was bored. But he humored me. We saw American Gothic and Sunday Afternoon on La Grande Jatte. The Art Institute also has a fantastic Monet collection. We saw lots of haystacks. And some water lilies. They were lovely as well. The Beloved was pissy because we didn't see any Rembrandt or Vermeer. He likes Dutch Masters. Poor boy.

I thought he might like some modern art and sculpture. So we went and saw The Bean, or The Big Shiny Thing in Millennium Park.

Apparently, it's actually called Cloud Gate. It's seriously one of the weirdest things I've ever seen. Unfortunately, it still wasn't a Dutch Master and The Beloved was still grouchy. There was only one thing to do--let him pick dinner.

We went to the Exchequer Pub, which was a few blocks away, right in the Loop. It may have been a Speakeasy when the first restaurant was established at that location during the 1920s. It was also frequented by none other than Al Capone. Oh--and they are said to have the best deep dish pizza in the Loop. Guess what we ordered!


And beer. The Exchequer Ale is quite good. We drank plenty of it.

Day three found us back downtown--this time at Navy Pier. It's kind of like Hampton Beach. Only the guys don't seem quite so sleazy. We walked around and looked at things and took pictures of the city from the pier. Then we met up with R & M for drinks. The Beloved was hot and grumpy, so we bought him a baseball cap to protect his head from sunburn. I should have done something to protect myself, but, well, it isn't vacation until you've got a sunburn, right?

We all went on the Ferris Wheel.

Nothing impresses The Beloved.

Not even the view. Well. He may have enjoyed the view a little.

I sure did. Plus, we got to see R & M be nauseatingly cute.

After the Ferris Wheel, The Beloved decided he was ready to venture out of downtown. He had read about a pub he really wanted to visit. Who cares that it was 3:00 on Thursday afternoon--that's a perfectly acceptable time to visit a pub if you're vacationing! So off we went to the Lincoln Park area and tracked down The Red Lion Pub. The pub is very English in decor, beers on tap, and menu. It's also rumored to be the most haunted bar in Chicago. All we saw was a crazy patron who spent a fair amount of time mumbling at us from the bar, introduced himself to The Beloved and R, and told me and M that we looked strung out. Although, when we got to the next bar (yes, it was a productive afternoon), I found my camera was broken! Poltergeists at work? Who knows.... (we fixed the camera with a little packing tape).

It was still early for dinner, so we decided to hit another bar in the area. North Lincoln has plenty from which to choose. I have no idea where we ended up, but they had pool tables.

We spent the rest of the afternoon there. I am an abysmal pool player. Pathetically bad. Thus the much maligned look on The Beloved's face as he was saddled with me. He apparently forgot that part of our wedding vows.

After several beers (or scotches if you were R), we closed out and went back downtown to 17/West at The Berghoff for German food. It was excellent. Unfortunately, we had already consumed so much crap that no one was particularly hungry. It was right about here that I realized we no longer had the bag of souvenirs. I don't know if we left it at the bar with the pool tables or if we left it in a cab. Only that it was gone. And I was a little bit pissed. So, it was time to call it a night.

The Beloved and I went back to Bloomingdale and R & M went back to Joliet. They had to get ready for R's parent's gala boating party on Saturday, which we, regrettably, had to miss so as we could come back home. It was still relatively early when we got back to the hotel, so we went to a movie--Live Free or Die Hard. It was much better than I expected it to be. Highly enjoyable.

Our last day there, we stayed in Bloomingdale. We ate a sandwich and then went to see another movie--this time we saw 1408. Also good. Surprisingly scary. After the movie we went back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. We went to Tapas Valencia. Dude--I don't know why this place isn't packed all the time. It was seriously some of the best food I have ever consumed. The Beloved and I are converts. Tapas is the best ever. I don't think we have any in the area (if I'm wrong, please let me know), so I'm going to have to track down some fabulous Spanish recipes and host my own Tapas parties.

After that fine food, there was only one way to cap off the evening...back to the movie theater to check out Ratatouille! Another fine film. And a fine way to end our vacation. The next day was utterly eaten up with travel back east--including a fun bout of airport hell in not one, but two airports! I got more knitting done during the return trip than was accomplished the rest of the week. Here's the sock at National Airport. It's hard to see, but the Washington Monument is in the background. Seriously!

The sock did, in fact, go everywhere I did on vacation. I just rarely took it out to work on it. I was too busy drinking beer. And taking pictures. And playing. But I finished it just the same. Yesterday. But, I feel like this post is awful full, so I'll tell you all about it and show it off tomorrow.

We had a fun vacation, but man...it's good to be home!

This is mine. I call it The Piglet. You know--cause it's not quite a Hog.

I inherited the moped last summer from my Dad. It was basically a hand-me-down as he upgraded to an actual motorcycle. His is a yellow Kawasaki Ninja--or, as he explains it, "his toy-colored motorcycle."

Dad picked up the moped the summer before. It had originally been purchased for my cousin. He rode it once or twice, and then it sat for ten or so years in the basement of my aunt and uncle's house. Dad rode it around all summer and proclaimed it the most fun ever. Well, until he got the motorcycle.

I have to concur--at least as far as the moped goes (no motorcycle for me--at least not yet). Last summer was very difficult for me--I had gone back to school and was driving to Kingston, RI twice a week for class. On top of that, my job security was in the toilet, as half of my organization's funding had been cut. Dad to the rescue: "You've got to take the moped out. You can't be depressed and ride the moped at the same time. I can't explain it, but it works." And, you know what? It does. Perhaps it has to do with taking your life in your hands. The engine is very basic and the machine runs on a mixture of gasoline and oil--the same mixture Dad uses in his chainsaw. Going downhill, you can push it as fast as 40-45 MPH, which makes your life rush before your eyes. I average 30 MPH on it, which makes it perfect for riding around town. And since it gets about 200 MPG, it's like I'm saving money 'cause I'm not taking the car to church/to the store/to the dentist/to my parents' house/etc, right?

This summer I added the milk crate to the back so I could just pop my handbag in there when I wanted to go somewhere instead of having to transfer everything to a backpack, or bungee cord the thing to the back and hope for the best. The milk crate also means I can take it to the supermarket if I only need a couple of things. I can pop my helmet in the crate while I run in to do my errands, and then put the bag of groceries in the crate to go home! Efficient, if not cool looking.

For, I admit, the moped is a bit geeky-looking. It is not a Vespa; it is not sleek and European. It is very utilitarian. As my Dad says, "People with scooters go clubbing; people with mopeds go AV clubbing." Whatever. I have, though, gotten some nasty looks when I park my moped next to their shiny new Vespas in front of the coffee shop in the center of town. I'm sure they're just jealous. Then there are the cars that refuse to share the road and pass you in completely illegal fashions. Dude. I love getting passed on in-town streets--particularly when I'm going the speed limit or a little faster. Really. I do. Life in the moped-fast lane.

In other news: Jaywalker #1 is coming along nicely. Last night I turned the heel, picked up stitches and started the gussets.

Turning the heel is probably my favorite part of sock-knitting. It's like magic every time. I remember turning the heel of Conwy on my lunch break at work and giggling like an absolute simpleton--look, it was straight and now there's a little cup for your heel. How unbelievably cool is that??? It was much the same for this heel, only I did it at home for The Beloved. He gave me his patented patient "I married a touched woman" look and continued to watch his TV program. Poor man simply doesn't know what he's missing. I fear the day I no longer appreciate the magic of the turned heel. It will probably be a sign that it's time to tie the anchor to my ankles and toss me overboard.

Gussets, on the other hand.... I hate picking up stitches. And no matter how hard I try, I always end up with a little hole between needles 3 & 4. I'm pretty sure it's small enough that no one will notice, particularly since there are little gaps there anyway as part of the pattern...but I notice and it ticks me off. I'm sure I wasn't helped last night by The Beloved's running commentary of the program we were watching and the fact that the light in the TV room was not very good. Excuses, excuses. Anyway. Stitches are picked up and we're on our way towards a foot.

I'm much happier with this sock now than I was at the very beginning. Marianne was right--the Funky Stripe does make a nice Jaywalker. I need to lighten up and realize that judging the yarn based on an inch of ribbing and a handful of pattern rows is not a good idea. I really need to trust that these things will all work together. Because...as you see...they are!

This sock and its mate will be coming on vacation with me. The Beloved will be pressed into yarn-holding duty so I can wind the second skein of yarn. (He keeps whining, "I am not a yarn swift." No, he's not. But until he gets me one, he'll have to do.) Tonight, we (The Beloved, the sock and myself) are going up to Portland to watch the Sea Dogs game. The Sea Dogs are the Double-A Affiliate of the Boston Red Sox. I've never been up to see them play, but it's supposed to be a very good time. We're sitting here, and the tickets were more than reasonable, considering I'd have to pledge my first-born in order to score Red Sox tickets...and those would likely be standing room only. I think we'll have fun--and we'll even have enough for a hot dog and a beer, which is all part of the adventure, yeah?

Several weeks ago I ordered a couple of bags from Heather over at LuluBelle Custom Handbags. Well, they have arrived! I couldn't be happier with them. Behold, the Little Lulu:

And inside:

And the Lauren:

And inside:

The handbags are handmade. Select your own exterior and interior fabrics, choose from fabric or bamboo handles, choose between snap and ribbon closures. The products are gorgeous. I'm very, very happy with my purchases and will likely buy more of her stuff in the future. In fact, the Lauren will be coming to Chicago with me. Did you see the pockets on the inside? It's a nice, roomy bag that will comfortably hold my wallet, sunglasses, iPod, camera, the guidebook, the gallon-sized plastic bag for hand lotion and lip gloss, a novel or magazine for myself, one for The Beloved, his XM radio/MP3 player, and a partridge in a pear tree. Oh--and this:

The GoKnit Pouch which I bought over at Scout's Swag. She has awesome color choices and wicked fast shipping. Now my sock will be safe and I won't have to worry about runaway yarn on the airplane! Anyway, since Lauren is so roomy, I don't think I'll need a separate carry-on for the flight. Which is good, because I never have enough room with a carry-on and a purse. I'll pack another carry-on bag in our checked baggage in case we (hopefully) go shopping and buy stuff on vacation and need something in which to transport our loot back to New Hampshire.

Anyway. Here's some food for thought: Why does vacation begin with the Spanish word for cow? That deep thought is brought to you care of The Beloved. Enjoy.

I know. I said I was giving up on it. But here's what happened....

A week ago Sunday, I saw Baby K and her mom after church. Someone asked about the upcoming baptism, and Mom responded that, well, her family couldn't find the...whatever...that babies generally use at family christenings. And since the baby has been sick a lot over the past several months, no one really thought to ask other family members if they'd seen it. And, in fact, they weren't expecting a large family turn-out, anyway. Did I mention that Baby K is our priest's daughter? Where, in some families, this may be a rite of passage with little actual religious significance (no one ever goes to church, but dammit, we're baptizing this baby and having a party), Baby K's baptism should have been an event. So I told her Mom, "I think I have something she can use."

Then I went home and knit like an absolute fool for the next week. I didn't do laundry. I didn't spin. I wasn't ready for the start of Summer of Socks 2007. All I did was knit the Christening Shawl.

I couldn't knit it as long as I originally planned. In spite of my best efforts, I still had to go to work and occasionally sleep or eat. But, this is what I managed:

The Beloved and I are actually going on vacation this year! Like, we will leave the great State of New Hampshire. We will even leave New England. We're going out to Chicagoland for five days. Why Chicago, you ask? Well, because The Beloved has never been there. And because we have a dear friend who lives in Joliet, IL. No, not in the prison, you naughty children. He bought a house there several years ago and every year comes out to spend a weekend with us. Every year he asks, "When are you going to come out my way." And every year we say something nebulous like, "Oh, soon...."

Last year, I decided enough was enough. My poor friend. I feel awful. So I told him, "Next year. We will come to Chicago at some point in the next year." The Beloved didn't believe I was serious. So I decided that if my darling spouse did not want to come to Illinois with me, I would go alone. Good Lord, I lived in two foreign countries before I married him--I was certainly capable of putting myself on an airplane to spend a long weekend in the Midwest. Well. The Beloved liked this idea even less. "You're leaving me to have an affair! You want to have an affair with him!" Nooooo. I've know him longer than I've known you, sweetie. Think about it for a second. Besides, I really didn't want to go alone--I wanted my husband to get on the stick and come with me!!

Well. Something worked, because we're going.

The last vacation The Beloved and I took was about five years ago. We went to Montreal and Quebec City on our honeymoon. While we've taken time off from work since that time, we've never actually managed a "trip." There are several excuses here: We bought a house, so there's no money; I changed jobs; The Beloved's job is crazy and he has a hard time leaving it behind. Plus, I've recently intuited that The Beloved doesn't like airplanes. I don't know if he's always hated planes or if this is a post-September-11-sort-of-phenomenon. How did I discover this delightful little tidbit? When he asked how long it would take us to drive to Chicago. Hmmmm. I don't think so. Perhaps I can give him half a Valium prior to boarding and he won't even know we got on an airplane.

We also don't tend to do things halfway. If we're going on vacation, dammit, we are going on vacation. This trip does not seem to be an exception. While we are flying coach, we will be renting a car and staying at the Indian Lakes Resort in Bloomingdale--about a half-hour's drive from O'Hare and about 50 minutes away from Joliet. There will be no Holiday Inn for us, apparently. I'm not complaining--if vacation only comes once every five years, I'll take what I can get. The resort features two (2) golf courses (I don't play, but I believe The Beloved once golfed in a former lifetime), a tennis court, an indoor and outdoor pool, two restaurants, two bars and a spa. Now we're talking vacation. I'm wondering if I can convince him to set me up with one of these packages. Hmmm. Well, if he's going to golf, I have to do something.

And, naturally, we will go see my friend. My friend for whom I am supposed to be diligently knitting one of the afghans that is sitting in the corner and gazing at me dolefully from time to time. I should have something done to show him, but I'm just not happy with the pattern I've chosen, which leaves me with the eternal question: To Rip, or Not to Rip? Should I just suck it up and make the damned afghan, or should I start over and try to find a pattern that is perhaps more aesthetically pleasing? Or should I just ignore the blasted thing entirely and work on the baby shawl? That last option is looking more and more likely....Ah, me....

I suppose it all depends on how much luggage we bring and what goes in my carry-on bag. No, I'm not planning on bringing the afghan on the plane with me, although it's always a possibility. I think the last thing I knit on a flight was a baby blanket....but that was before I discovered socks. But I am realizing that I don't have a proper Big Bag to use for my carry-on...and to haul my crap around Chicago and Joliet while The Beloved and I practice being tourists. Do any of you have favorite Big Bags or traveling bags that you'd recommend? It needs to fit the following: A sweater; my camera; my iPod; at least one book; at least one knitting project (likely socks); wallet; sunglasses; etc. I'm thinking it might be time to spring for a Lulu Belle Bag, but am being wishy-washy. However, I have to make up my mind soon, if I want a bag here before we leave on vacation....it only looks like I'm counting the days. Really.

Sorry--you're going to have to settle for stock photos right now as I'm posting at work (bad monkey!) and do not have the luxury of my camera, USB cord, or appropriate software. Pretty screwy, considering I work at a school known for its photography program. Anyway...

Several weeks ago, The Beloved was struck with an uncontrollable desire to own the entire Highlander television series. So he ordered it from Amazon.com--only to discover he hadn't changed his address from the last time he ordered something several years ago. Since we moved into our current abode about a year ago, this did not make him happy. Particularly since the items shipped later than planned and just missed mail forwarding.

He tried again and ordered the series on E-bay. And waited. And waited. Meanwhile, several items I ordered around the same time arrived without hitch. And The Beloved grew angrier and angrier. His mood was not helped when he e-mailed the seller to ask for a ship date and tracking number only to be told, "I don't answer individual e-mails in order to keep my costs down." The Beloved took the following days to craft the perfect negative review in retaliation.

You can imagine his delight and surprise when a large heavy box of DVDs arrived at the house on Tuesday. Since then, we have watched 10 episodes. If this doesn't prove my love for him, I don't know what does.

On the knitting front:

I'm about to pin the baby cardi out on the blocking board. Point of information: As Resident Sibling pointed out, it isn't actually a cardigan, but a kimono. Please forgive me if I have misled you. Anyway, back to the sweater. Since it is still in pieces, I won't bore you with a picture. I will, however, bore you with the following:

This is a dishcloth I've been working on since I finished knitting on the baby sweater. It knit quickly and has an interesting look. I think it's called "Squares on the Diagonal." It's knit corner-to-corner, like a grandmother's favorite. I love corner-to-corner dishcloths. I think this might knit up into a nice baby blanket. But I'm trying to finish off the blankets I've got going before beginning any new ones. Here it is close up:

And here it is posing:

It's cuddling with my new ball of Koigu. I blame KelinCal over at HypKNITized for this. And for this:

It's the beginning of a Dream Swatch. And while I'm a bit more enamored with hers than with mine, I'm thoroughly enjoying the yarn and the knitting. It brings me great joy. I might have to buy more Koigu tomorrow. In spring colors. Even though it is definitely not acting like spring today. We've been enjoying "wintry mix" here on the NH Seacoast today--which basically means we have a potpourri of crappy weather including snow, sleet and rain. Blah. The only good part about this weather? It means I can enjoy this with my knitting:

Ah. Wonderful. Now I'm off to block the baby sweater.

I've spent my Sunday doing very mature, adult things. I went to church this morning for Palm Sunday. I finally got the guest list for Easter dinner--we'll be having 17 or 18 guests for dinner. So The Beloved and I started to clean in earnest. Hopefully the house won't be appalling next week--I have high hopes, particularly if Resident Sibling pulls her weight. That, of course, is not a certainty, but I choose not to worry...yet.

So we cleaned. And I did laundry. Lots of laundry. And we cleaned some more. Wow. What a way to spend a Sunday.

Saturday was WAY preferable. My camera arrived, so here are some glimpses of The Beloved and I out on the town.

Here we are at The Home Depot. Our toilet seat broke. Naturally, the toilet in our house is gray. Behold the wall of toilet seats:


None are gray. We found we could special order a gray one if we really wanted, but that just seemed...well...silly. Particularly since we really didn't want to wait for a toilet seat to arrive. After much deliberation, we decided on an oak one. Nothing was going to match; oak seemed the most reasonable choice.

When we finished running errands, we decided to take advantage of the absolutely glorious day.

We went to the beach. As you can tell, we were the coolest kids there. From whence comes the burning desire to fly a kite? Who knows. But I had it. And The Beloved, being wonderful, agreed to humor me. In spite of the fact that neither of us have flown a kite in years, we didn't do half-bad if I do say so myself. It took off with ease and sailed like nobody's business.

Man, it was great. If you haven't flown a kite recently, I highly recommend it. You should be able to find one at a high-quality toy store, and while some are expensive, ours was under $20. Hours of fun.

Check out The Beloved in action:

He claims it was "OK," but I think he actually had fun. In fact, I think he may come out and do it again!

We had so much fun outside, that knitting "suffered." I'm plugging along with the baby cardi and it will be done eventually. Probably next week, particularly since I'm taking some time off. I'm also working on a "mystery project." My mother's birthday is coming up and so I'm trying to figure something out for that--something tells me the baby cardi isn't for her.

Tomorrow, I'll play with the camera some more, show you the progress on the baby cardi and give you a little yarn porn--the yarn for my cardigan arrived yesterday, and I'm considering just keeping it as is and carrying skeins around to pat during the day. The yarn is soooooo soft. But now I'm getting sleepy and have to get one more load of laundry in before calling it a day. I gotta tell you--the kite-flying was way more fun than the housework.

The Beloved is a gamer. And not in any casual sense of the word. For the past few months, it has seemed to me that he has lived, breathed, eaten and slept World of Warcraft--the online gaming sensation commonly known as WoW. Any South Park fans who saw the WoW episode--it's only funny 'cause it's true. Which, actually, makes it not so funny.

Things got particularly bad this winter. The Beloved joined a guild in November while I was finishing graduate school because he needed something to do since I was gone all the time. He has since managed to lose more and more time in front of the bloody computer in pursuit of uber-lootage. In February, I joined an online community of almost 3000 "WoW Widows." Yes, I realize exactly how sad this sounds--and what's worse is that The Beloved's obsessive playing was mild in comparison to the actions of other member's significant others.

So, what does this have to do with movies? After a 12-hour stint in front of the computer on Sunday which left me extraordinarily non-plussed, The Beloved has decided to quit his guild, or at least to go on an indefinite leave of absence. I'm not sure which he eventually chose. Anyhow, we've actually spent quality time together these past evenings after work. I can't tell you how great it is. On Wednesday nights I work a second job which keeps me out until 8 or 8:30, and I was dreading finding him in the computer room having fallen off the wagon. When I got home from work, he was in the computer room. WoW was on. As soon as I walked in to say "hi," he asked if I wanted to watch a movie and turned off the game. Just like that. Now, if you've ever lived with a compulsive gamer, you know these things just don't happen. If you've never known a compulsive gamer, you've just got to trust me on this one and believe me when I say it's almost the equivalent of "here, honey, let me open a bottle of Moet and get you some strawberries and then you look like you could use a nice foot massage."

So we watched Curse of the Golden Flower. It was absolutely stunning. I know nothing about this film other than that it's Chinese, so it was hard to knit and watch at the same time since I had to read subtitles. There were scenes set in the Forbidden City--but I don't know if they shot on location or if it was a set. No matter--gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Very violent at the end--so there was something for The Beloved, who, while able to appreciate stunning costumes and amazing settings, is still a man who digs battle scenes.

The film was directed by Zhang Yimou, who brought us Hero and House of Flying Daggers. I think it was recommended to us by my mother-in-law. While glorious to watch and wonderfully directed, the story was a bit of a jumble. Shakespearean scholars may recognize elements from their favorite tragedies--in fact, at one point The Beloved commented that it was starting to look like King Lear. Still--particularly if you have a big TV--I found it worth the 114 minutes. Particularly since it made for a lovely date with my husband.

A few weeks ago, we were blessed with a snow day. I took the opportunity to be industrious and I knit a hat. This hat, in fact.

I'm not as thrilled with it as I hoped I would be. The idea, I think, was a good one, and the hat is not atrocious. Unfortunately, I didn't have a small enough circular needle, and my attempt to knit this using the "magic loop" method were not as successful as perhaps it could or should have been. I also think I chose poorly in the way I added the "seeds," as I have a couple that threaten to unravel or drop stitches or do other evil things that are simply unacceptable in a hat intended for a small child.

The hat is tiny. I'd guess it would work for 0-3 months. You can adjust it a little with the I-cord tie. Or use the tie to make sure the hat stays on the baby's head. Here's the hat again--this time, on The Beloved's cat, Gabriel. [Note: The cat must be feeling mellow today because he didn't even try to claw my eyes out for this indignity. I hope he isn't getting sick...]

I admit, putting this hat on the cat was cruel, and probably something done in kitty torture camps. In fact, I could probably get kicked out of the ACLU and Amnesty International for this sort of behavior. Or, I could send the picture to Stuff on my Cat and see if it makes this week's "cut." Never mind, though--I digress. The Beloved feels that this hat, in and of itself, is an evil creation and that we should probably bury it in the backyard and never speak of it again. He hasn't even seen the picture of the cat in the hat. (Sorry...that was really bad. I'll try not to do it again.) When shown the completed hat (which I currently refer to as my "prototype," because I intend to knit a better one at some point in the next week or so), all my sweetheart could say was, "Why?"

"Because it's cute."

"You would put that on a baby? You're meaner than I thought. That's terrible. Poor kid can't defend itself and you put that on its head."

So I pondered. In my opinion, it is acceptable--nay, it is necessary that one create or purchase obscenely cute/borderline ridiculous items for babies. Were I to knit a watermelon hat for my husband, my father, or one of my contemporaries, that might show questionable judgment. But for a two-month-old baby girl? Of course she needs a watermelon hat! That goes without saying! My female friends who had the dubious honor of seeing the watermelon hat the day The Beloved confronted me with my supposed cruelty confirm my belief that the hat is, in fact, ridiculously cute and eminently appropriate for an infant. In fact, one could easily get away with making one for a toddler.

The Beloved is still skeptical--only now, it isn't just me. Interest in the watermelon hat has led him to believe that all women are inherently cruel and somehow get off on torturing small children through purchase of cute things. Which of us is right? I'll let you decide. In the meantime, where did I put the pink yarn and the circular needles.....