My chum Nancy, a true master knitter, considers knitting with black yarn a waste. Want a black sweater, why not buy one? She says. Well, there's a real kernel of truth there. I am knitting a shawl in black and hot pink right now and it is very limiting. I can't knit it backstage, since I can't see the stitches well enough in low light. I really can only work on it during the day, as it has just enough detail to need scrutiny. This afternoon, I had to un-knit a big chunk of short rows in it. I had to take a nap to recuperate afterward.

I continue apace with my hexipuffs, with a little help from some kind fellow ravelers. My posts asking for spare bits of sock yarn have yielded excellent advice and both MadTosh and STR ends. Each puff takes about fifteen yards, which is not an unusual amount to have left over at the end of sock project. Still, I am grateful. It will be nice to have an influx of different colors, as my palette is very heavy in blue and green. We knit the colors we like, I suppose, but I hadn't really considered how positively Piscean my choices are until I looked at my collection of puffs the other day. They're now housed in a big popcorn tin from Trader Joe's that was once mistaken for a can of cat food. It is gratifiying to throw another puff in there, though I am still far from having enough for a throw.

A few days ago, I got a package in the mail from a kind soul that contained two pounds of STR ends. It was a real cornucopia when I poured the yarn out of its ziplock. Not just little ends, but fair sized balls in some colors. I suspect that the other knitter has small feet or loved ones with small feet, which cannot be said of anyone in my family. This influx of kindness and gorgeous yarn overwhelmed me a little: so lovely and so much. It may end up composing a good quarter to third of the finished blanket.

My cousin Bam Bam spotted the yellow bug out an about the other day. He told me that he saw a young woman driving a yellow beetle with a paint bubble on the hood just like mine had. I hope she enjoys it, and that she wasn't swindled by the dealers like I was. I miss my sweet little bug, though I am glad to have more schlepping room as I contemplate my upcoming move. I decided to measure the interior cargo space, since cubic feet listings (or God help me, liters) doesn't really tell me if I can fit a futon mattress in the back. Then I couldn't find any of my measuring tapes. They must have run off with all of my darning needles. Some future archeologist will wonder about the proliferation of notions and odd socks.


Rust In Peace

My beloved yellow Bug is no more. Or, more precisely, no longer mine. I loved my Volkswagen. Loved it. I just didn't love writing all those checks to my mechanic. While I was driving through the Rockies last summer, part of the undercarriage fell off. Alarming, but apparently unnecessary for continued driving. Then, a big bubble developed in the paint on the hood and peeled off. Did I mention that I was living in the high desert and the AC was kaput? Then, on the way to a gig early one Saturday morning this winter, I hit a patch of ice on 294 and hit a concrete wall. I was fine, but it was the beginning of an extremely antagonistic process with my insurance. Multiple times, important information was "lost" by the agent handling my claim.
Well, a little over a month ago, I was on my way to meet up with an out-of-town friend on a layover in Chicago, when a Spring rainstorm turned to hail. Horrible, monsoon-like lashings of rain and hail. And I couldn't get my windshield to clear because the AC didn't work. I had to wipe the inside down with a towel I happened to have in the car, then keep the window cracked to equalize the temperature. Fuck that shit. I could tolerate the Bug's various hoopy quirks until they adversely affected my ability to drive, and brother, not being able to see is a major problem.
If you'd told me that I'd drive an SUV, I would have laughed in your face. Somehow, in my search for another Beetle, I ended up with a RAV4. It's great. I looked at the Suburu Forrester, too, but it was more car than I need. Now, I can schlepp gear without looking like the punchline to a joke, and it isn't much harder to parallel park. The AC is chilly and everything works! It still needs a couple of irreverent bumper stickers, floor mats, and maybe some fuzzy dice.
And boy, have I been schlepping lately. Full sound rigs, a mixing console the size of a yacht, a handcart, and the other sound designer I'm assisting have all made an appearance. At the end of next week, I will have three musicals running concurrently. I'll also be tired. I've been designing almost exclusively this season, which is a change of pace. Mostly assisting my pal Mikey, who shares my love of Silky Johnson and lets me take pictures of him sitting on a pink toilet at 2 am.
On the knitting front, I've picked up my hexipuffs again. They're addictive and don't involve knitting lying on my lap during the humid, hot months. The puffs are zen, since there is no real end to their project. At some undetermined point in the future, I will look at my pile of puffs and decide that there are enough of them to make a blanket. Blankets come in many sizes. then, I will spend hours arranging them in an artful "random" pattern that is anything but. And I can cheat on the puffs and not feel guilty, unlike my one sleeved cardigan.

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