Drive-By Thinking.

turkeeeeeeeeee

It's 2:30 on Thanksgiving Day and I've cooked nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zeeeeroooooh.

I like it that way.

Don't get me wrong -- we've every intention of indulging in the traditional feasting. But I've no intention of wasting my entire day on it. I have pie crust chilling in the fridge, ready to be ruined by my feeble poking about. (I'm not genetically predisposed to pie crust. I'm convinced that this, like gravy, is something that can only be conquered if you're born to it.) Fortunately, the filling (the old standby of two-slug apple) should mask the inadequacy of the covering. The bird is currently getting its pre-grill bath and oil. In about three hours, I'll boil some potatoes, microwave some frozen vegetables, stir up a cheese sauce, open a couple of jars of gravy, pry the cranberry sauce out of its can, and toss a salad. 

Oh, and open up that bottle of bubbly that's taking up space in the garage fridge.

whattya doin' tomorrow?

I am NOT going shopping.

but it's black friday.

And I'm vaguely agoraphobic. There is nothing on God's green earth that I need badly enough to fight through a bunch of idiots for. I don't much enjoy shopping under the best of circumstances; I certainly am not going to seek out the press of the half-awake and largely unwashed and unmannered to spend money I shouldn't be spending on things I didn't need. No, I'm not supporting any of these "buy nothing" anti-capitalist movements. I just hate crowds. Besides, I have to work, and it's probably safer not to be fighting the traffic around the malls and shopping centers. So I'll tuck up comfortably in my office and work on the calendar that's due altogether too soon.

Besides, I'm doing my shopping online this year. Rather successfully, I might add.

If it's a holiday where you are, Happy Thanksgiving. If it isn't, Happy Thursday; I'll celebrate for you.

monday morning pondering.

If I thought it wouldn't piss off Hizzoner (and go against every oath I've uttered on the subject), I'd offer to bear Victor Davis Hanson's children.

He's offered up his own bit of drive-by thinking here (please to click). Some of it will make you say, "yeah, I knew that." Some will make you say, "yeesh. I didn't think of that." Some will make you say, "and ANOTHER thing…!" Point 10 resonated especially loudly with me:

An entire American culture, the West itself, its ideas and experiences, have simply vanished on the altar of therapy.

Think about it.


on another note…

When The Anointed One started hollering about change, I didn't realize that he meant changing back to the Clinton II administration…. Silly me. I figured he meant he'd do something "new." Guess that's what I get for thinking. (whip snaps sharply in background)

anything else?

The Colts are starting to redeem themselves this season. Still time for them to blow it, with six games to go.


optimist.

No. Not me. Never an optimist. Realist. Totally different and usually counterintuitive to each other.


whatever.

Hey, the American Music Awards were last night! Anyone care?

[silence]

Didn't think so.

Oh, and I finished a sock. It's nice. It's soft. It's needing its mate….

umm…

Y'all.

It's snowing.

Here. In southeastern bloody Virginia. In November.

and?

It doesn't DO that here. Not here. Between the latitude and the bay, it just …doesn't. Not this early. Christmas, maybe. January, not unusual. But now?

 not the end of the world.

 Unless you're a southern driver who panics when you see the white stuff.

Oh well. It's too warm to stick or last too long (low 30s all week). Pretty. The heavy wet flakes that drape nicely on stuff.

Global warming my Aunt Fanny.

quiz time.

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Conscientious, Fulfilled, and Spiritual

26 Renaissance, 11 Islamic, 15 Ukiyo-e, -34 Cubist, -36 Abstract and 4 Impressionist!

The Renaissance was a cultural movement that profoundly affected European intellectual life. Beginning in Italy, and spreading to hthe rest of Europe by the 16th century, its influence affected literature, philosopy, religion, art, politics, science, and all other aspects of intellectual enquiry. Renaissance artists looked at the human aspect of life in their art. They did not reject religion but tended to look at it in it's purest form to create visions they thought depicted the ideals of religion. Painters of this time had their own style and created works based on morality, religion, and human nature. Many of the paintings depicted what they believed to be the corrupt nature of man.

People that like Renaissance paintings like things that are more challenging. They tend to have a high emotional stability. They also tend to be more concientious then average. They have a basic understanding of human nature and therefore are not easily surprised by anything that people may do. They enjoy life and enjoy living. They are very aware of their own mortality but do not dwell on the end but what they are doing in the present. They enjoy learning, but may tend to be a bit more closed minded to new ideas as they feel that the viewpoint they have has been well researched and considered. These people are more old fashioned and not quite as progressive. They enjoy the finer things in life like comfort, a good meal, and homelife. They tend to be more spiritual or religious by nature. They are open to new aesthetic experiences.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

Link courtesy of Jo the Magnificent.

I was never much for Art History. I mean, I know what I like, and don't care to dissect the whys and wherefores, the angst, joy, and perversities of the artist. Apologies to any painters out there, but I don't particularly care what your motive was -- I either like it or don't. That having been said, I do like Renaissance art.

other stuff.

I got an email from GM today.

"I want to assure you that we are making our best vehicles ever, and we have exciting plans for the future. But we need your help now. Simply put, we need you to join us to let Congress know that a bridge loan to help U.S. automakers also helps strengthen the U.S. economy and preserve millions of American jobs.

Despite what you may be hearing, we are not asking Congress for a bailout but rather a loan that will be repaid."

So sez the President of GM North America. Horseshit, sez me. So I wrote him back.

Call it what you wish to call it; the base issue is the same. You are using your position as one of the largest domestic industries to leverage the government into a blatantly unconstitutional act.

There is no basis in law for the interference of the federal government into private industry. My representatives will be urged to vote on the side of the law, and not with popular opinion, especially that which is so heavily weighted by the concerns of lobbyists.

The problem is not the economy. The problem is a bloated industry so enslaved to unions that it is rendered impotent to manage its own affairs. Keeping people on the payroll to do nothing because a union contract says it has to be that way; paying twice the wage of other auto manufacturers because of unreasonable demands in contract negotiations; inflated, unrealistic pension plans that could do no other than bankrupt themselves through simple mathematics -- we aren't foolish, sir. We understand what the real issue is here.

Add to that total blindness to what consumers need and have been long asking for, a lack of imaginative design and regurgitation of inefficient models, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Any normal small business would have folded long ago under such ridiculous circumstances. This simply isn't a business plan for success.

You do not need a loan OR a bailout. You need reorganization. You need restructuring. You need the legal directives of Chapter 11 bankruptcy regulation to help you clean house and rebuild the US automobile industry as it should be, not to perpetuate it as it is.

Pack up your bags and return to Detroit. Washington is not where you belong.

I don't expect an answer. Frankly, I expect my email to bounce. So I printed it out and plan to snail-mail it. It will change nothing but at least I've had my say.

industry that IS working:

And is introducing a new color: Fiestaware in CHOCOLATE! No, not edible -- though it's a good thought -- but in a nice nummy brown. It'll look stunning with my seafoam green settings mixed in. Or the periwinkle. Or shamrock….

Oh, and my hand's working again. Whatever. So long as I'm not in pain, I call that a good day. Now I'm off to cause more trouble somewhere….

goin' back

to bed. Apparently I have morphed into a large mucus manufacturing monopoly. This upper respiratory crap is lingering on into its second week, and claiming more victims around here. Even my supervisor called in today, and that rarely happens.

So consequently this will not be a long post, because I simply don't have the energy.

I did manage to do this, though:

ain't that attractive?

I don't know what I did; all I know is that it hurts. And it means that this stuff is temporarily on hold:

at least it looks like a sock now.

Progress has been made on this. I'm still liking the pattern. I did try it on, though, and I only hope that my SIL's smaller feet make the difference in fit. As it goes, if I try this pattern for myself I'll have to bump up a needle size.

neverending sleeveness.

At least it's starting to resemble something. I'm four rows (I think) from ending the sleeve (progress made since photo shoot) and only have to finish number two before joining them to the body… and making the hood… and… the… zipp…

Aw hell, this is gonna take longer than I thought. I'm going back to bed.

methinks thee thinks too much.

The Rev. Dr. Thomas Sowell posted a column on "Intellectuals" recently. As with most of the words coming from his illustrious pen, I can find much to mull over.

I think my father-in-law said it best when he asked me if I knew what "Ph.D." stood for. "Pile it Higher and Deeper," was the punchline. He ought to know. He's got one.

I find that the more degrees that are gathered in a room, the less I want to be there. The talk inevitably circles away from normal everyday stuff to an uncomfortable elitism. It makes me want to pull out my New York accent and start scratching myself in off-limits places. Especially since they can smell my lack of academic distinction like a wolf scents its prey. Suddenly, any conversation directed at me becomes mono-syllabic, and if I offer a differing point of view, I get pitying looks that clearly say, "Poor thing. She can't be expected to understand."

The most learned, intelligent, and best givers of advice in my life experience have been people who weren't necessarily men of letters. Case in point: my dad. He didn't have a college degree. He did have a mind like a steel trap. Anything he read, heard, or experienced was in his brain forever. Plus, he knew how to use it. I've retained the stuff he told me far longer than anything that came from my college professors. The delivery was more sincere, and I knew what Daddy said was based in fact.

Except that bit about his appendix scar being an Indian War wound. I never did buy that.

So if this nation is about to be overrun by a new "intellectual" movement, all I can say is that for once, in all honesty, I'm glad my father isn't alive. His head would likely have exploded. The needle on the bullshit meter only goes so far.

anyway…

Hey, Maggie! Look!

hell has frozen over.

Socks. Maggie-sized. In special collegiate colors.

lettin' the yarn do the talking.

Details:
Pattern: Plain vanilla 72-stitch sock. Cuff-down, heel flap, round toe. I don't see the point of futzing with a busy stripe.
Yarn: Opal Regenwald in Doktorfisch.
Needles: Susan Bates Silvalume US1 dpns.

Though it was pure serendipity on my part, the stripe color means a lot to those of us in the Maggie loop. Purple & gold for the University of Washington, where our heroine will matriculate soon enough. Blue & gold for the University of Michigan, where the medical center's angels took good care of her. Enjoy 'em, chickie. They're on their way.

And I've started another pair, this time for my nephew. According to his mother, he insists on wearing his socks as often as humanly possible. As in all the time. So in the interest of hygiene, I've got another pair on the needles. I don't want to be responsible for him ending up with nasty feet. Kids' socks are good travel knitting. They go fast.

Oh, and the new issue of Twist Collective is live. Lot of pretty stuff. I popped for the Zephyr Style pullover, Mary Jane, which will work nicely in my menopause-zoned office; and Tuulia's lovely cabled glove pattern. I fell for Ysolda's Vivian sweater, too, but I don't have anything suitable in stash and I can't reason popping for more yarn right now. Check it out if you have time. The articles are great, as well.

K out. Have a great weekend, y'all.

the eleventh hour of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month.

Take a minute and remember, please.

Oh, and I'll share something else with you later this evening. Stay tuned.

roooooaaaadtrip!

Q: What happens when five women rent a minivan and drive to the big city?
A: Well, no one got arrested, if that's what you're thinking.

Finally feeling somewhat human again. Still coughing, sniffling, and making an interesting array of noises, while leaving a trail of used Kleenex in my path. This didn't keep me from the expedition of the season.

Hizzoner woke me up at 2:30am. "Are you going?"

Me: Mmmph. pulls duvet over head

Hizzoner: I'll leave you alone and let you decide. shuffles off to the kitchen.

Me: sniffle*gack*coughcoughcough*sneeze imnotgoingimnotgoingimnotgoingimnotgoing… well shit. I'm awake. I might as well go.

So I staggered into the bathroom, harking like a sick seal, and turned on the hot water full blast. A steamed-up bathroom helps me breathe better. I cleaned up, put on makeup, dressed, and after waving in Hizzoner's general direction, grabbed my bag and wandered outside.

At 7:00 on the dot I wandered up the steps to Bananie's house. Chan and LisaB (the blogless) showed up shortly thereafter and we got on our way. A short stop along the way to pick up Lisa S (also non-blog) and it was Baltimore, Here We Come.

Bananie drove. LisaB brought assistance and comic relief in the form of "Mandy," the GPS. "Mandy" scolded us the whole way into town. While it was deemed prudent to follow her advice while on the interstate, there was much second-guessing once we were actually circling the convention center.

[ducks]

We wandered about the center, inadvertently crashing a "women in engineering" convention. I'm not sure what they thought about the other convention in the building…. Then, we found it. Stitches East, in all its commercial glory.

Boy, were we glad we got there early. At 10am it was already crowded, and it got more so as the day wore on. We wandered up and down the aisles of booths, poking through the yarns, patterns, books, and gidgets. I got to meet the lovely Donna and Valerie of Yarn4Socks.com, who have relieved me of much of my money over the last year or so and continued to do so that day; the ladies of Yarn Love, who sold me some lovelies; Lisa Souza herself, who talked yarns and patterns and is extremely pleasant (and sold me this pattern); and … and JO! I got to meet Jo in person! I think she thought I was some mad stalker -- until she saw my Rav button. That was the icing on the proverbial cake.

By the early afternoon we had shopped ourselves out; seen everything we wanted to see and checked off our relatively short lists.

Okay, I'm lying. We were hungry.

So we wandered across the street to The Wharf Rat. 'Cause they had beer. (I had the Oliver Irish Red. It stood up nicely with a Reuben sandwich.) And we needed beer. (Or cider, for some of us. Which didn't sound like a bad idea, either.) I'm not sure what people thought of us, five women laughing loudly, drinking solidly, and knitting away on various projects right there, in the outside part of a sidewalk café. And you know -- I don't think I care.

We had a blast. We laughed, picked on each other, told stories and anecdotes, and made hysterical utterances that I could post here if I were of a mind to embarrass people… but I think I'll keep that all between us girls.

Later that night, as I crashed at Chez Bananie, I had an epiphany of sorts. For the first time in about six years, I was actually happy. I know that sounds terrible in a way, but it was undeniably true. I was emotionally in a different place than I had been. I was free of responsibility, free to call my own shots -- I let "Me" come out again to play.*

And to think, I almost didn't go. I almost stayed in bed to nurse my cold.

bought pretties?

Why yes, a few things. I didn't buy a lot, having found most of what I needed at SAFF. I did find a copy of The Eclectic Sole at the Mannings booth.

This is what Donna and Valerie sold me:

hi ho silver!

The yarn with the silver in it. "Catch Hell Blues" is the colorway. I got two skeins, and think 840 yards of sparkly goodness will make something wrappish, don't you?

Then this from the Yarn Love goils:

when irish eyes are smiling, the wallet opens up.

The colorway is called Aiden, and it just spoke to me. When Sharon pulled it out of the rack to show it off, I snatched it took it gently from her so she didn't have to restock it. Just trying to help out.

I also got a lovely shawl stick (see it on Chan's blog. She got the ebony and I got a cherry one) and the blocking wires kit from Knitting Notions that I almost bought from her at the Montpelier festival. We tested it at Bananie's, on two of her FOs. Works perfectly. The tube it's packed in also helps clear a crowd.

Not much, actually. I was quite restrained. And happy.

___________

*"Me" has gone back into her hiding place again. It was nice to have her out, even if it was for just a little while.

cough*snif*snort*hack*grmff

Yeah. I still feel great.

Whatever virus invaded my personal space via the kindergarten has decided that no amount of medication and rest is going to dislodge it. I feel worse now than I did Tuesday night, when I went to bed at 6:30pm and didn't open my eyes until 5:00am the next morning. In fact, my supervisor threw my sniffly behind out of the office at 11:30, with strict orders to go back to bed and not come back until morning.

I went to bed as soon as I got in the door and would have likely slept on if Hizzoner hadn't woken me up and informed me that it was time to meet the bus. (He had to go to work. I'm surprised he went -- he's no better than I am right now.)

I'm on my second carton of orange juice, my third box of Kleenex, and almost out of Alka-Seltzer Cold and Cough.

calmed down yet about the election?

Hardly. Right now I want to bitchslap the former campaign staffers who are leaking their version of behind-the-scenes stuff from the campaign to anyone who'll listen, and trying their damndest to smear Sarah Palin's reputation beyond repair. I don't know what their modus operandi is, or what they're hoping to attain for their own sorry selves, but I hope it backfires big time.

And no, I haven't come to make my peace with the results. I intend to make my congressional representatives hate the very sight of my phone number on their caller ID, and my email address in their inbox. The next four years are not going to be easy ones in DC if I have anything to say about it.

as if you have that power.

I do. Band with enough like-minded people…. But enough for now. I still don't have the strength to give a shit right now.

It has occurred to me that on this "knitting blog" there has been a dearth of actual knitting actually occurring. And there has actually been some stuff going on.

First, the Opulent Raglan.

it's kind of small, isn't it?

I am aware that it doesn't look like much, what for all I've had it on the needles since August. Other things have pre-empted it: my mother-in-law's socks, the mitts for the school fair, the fact that my daughter has nothing to wear for fall weather… so it's gotten pushed to the side. I also had to rip out and start over, having determined that the gauge (back to gauge again) and the size I was knitting were incompatible with my actual circumference. So there. It's actually damned easy knitting and if I can ever actually sit down and work on it for more than five minutes at a stretch I might actually finish it rather quickly. But there's the rub.

Secondly, the little cabled hoodie:

still doesn't look like much.

This is the nice Miss Babs yarn that I got at SAFF, in a color that defies attempts to photograph in incandescent lighting. It's a Chrissy Gardiner pattern, also quite easy, and I made most of this progress during the last Formula One race of the season.

A moment of silence for Scuderia Ferrari, please.

Okay, that's enough. There's always next year. I'm having issues with the yarn and needle relationship. This is listed as a worsted weight yarn, but I'll be honest with you -- it's lighter than that. If I were knitting it with a 6, I wouldn't be having the issues I'm having with the 8. The size 8 needle is a little too big. The fabric's still okay -- plenty drapey and lightweight enough so she can still wear this comfortably -- but this is not the gauge I'd knit it to if I had my drothers. And I'm fresh out of drothers.

Lastly, the Spring Forward socks.

are you sure that's a sock?

Again, it doesn't look like much. There is actually 2/3 of a leg completed on this sock now; this is from a few days ago. Last night's episode of Dancing With the Stars gave me enough time to complete what I've done so far.

Yes, I'm watching that. Spare me your laughter -- I need something vapid and mindless right now. Warren Sapp trying to foxtrot fills that void quite well.

Back to the sock -- talk about something that flies off the needles! I've said it before that a pattern makes it go faster (in the mind, at least) but this just goes. You don't even have to give it any thought -- it just knits up so quickly. I can see a few more pairs of these in the future.

anywho…

I'm about done for now. Pausing to cough up a lung kind of took it out of me. Carry on….

i weep for my country.

(warning: poster doesn't feel well and didn't need this on top of it. expect things to be a trifle edgy, if not downright rude.)

My brother succinctly stated in previous comments that the voters of this country would make the choice they wished and aptly get what they deserved. Spot on as usual, his prediction came to pass.

They didn't need to drag the rest of us into their populist, socialist cesspool with them.

The '60s generation have been granted their last wish: one more chance to destroy the culture that nurtured them. Fine. Have at it. See what good it does you. You've put your prop in office.

Public education has proven itself to work. After all, it was established with the clear directive to control the ideology of future generations (you can look it up for yourself if you don't believe me). Enough young people have obviously paid attention to what they've been taught to achieve this goal. They can't write a coherent sentence and punctuate it correctly, but they sure know how to push a button.

Enjoy your victory while you can, Kool-Aid drinkers. When things start going to hell in a handbasket, don't come crying to me. You didn't want to hear what I had to say when there was still something to be done about it, and you likely won't want to hear me saying, "I told you so."

Because I fully intend to say that. Loudly, clearly, and as often as I possibly can. It's one small consolation as I watch the destruction of all I hold near and dear.

Wait for taxes to skyrocket, the Fairness Doctrine to tell you what you can and can't say, the kneecapping of our prominence globally, the patronizing and kowtowing to megalomaniacal third-world dictators, the hamstringing of our military… oh, and whatever that six-month surprise was that Joe "Chia Pet" Biden was promising.

I can only hope that riding in from the west on a white horse, some conservative hero will swoop in and pull a Congressional coup much like the "Contract With America" bit from the mid-'90s. I don't see it happening right now -- after all, this is the same party that shot itself in the balls with the "play nicely" mentality in this election -- but give it a few years of this bullshit and someone will likely be able to muster the forces to have it come true.

Me, I don't plan to submit quietly.