I should never order anything through the mail. I don't have the patience for it. A couple of my Netflix DVDs seem to have gotten lost in the mail. That is, if they weren't stolen from my mailbox, as the mailman hasn't been pushing the mail down into the slot lately. Argh. Alternate theory: my mail is being forwarded to PA again. I'm going to mail myself a postcard as a test. I really hope that the Netflix DVDs show up, because they'll freeze my account if I report too many of them missing. Also, I am bored.
I'm awaiting the arrival of a couple of Phildar magazines as well, from a shop in Belgium. Phildar has a cult following among American knitters, so you'd think that they'd distribute their yarns and patterns here, but they don't. They have to be ordered from Canada or Europe, neither of which is quick.
I am working on a Phildar project now: an alpaca and mohair blend wraparound cardigan that the French call a "cache-coeur". The yarn is a color similar to orange sorbet: pastel but not prissy. The loose double-ply construction makes my normally even stitches look wonky, so it will have to be blocked. There have been a lot of similar things in the fashion mags, so I'm looking forward to wearing the finished product.
My yukata sweater is 95% done. All it needs is its collar attached, which sounds so much easier than it is. This sweater just keeps making problems. Attaching the sash took me eight hours! After all the trouble this seemingly simple sweater was, it had better look good, feel good, and never need blocking. Since it's cotton, that's unlikely.

I had a completely pointless job interview last week. I knew that I wouldn't get the job when I left the house that morning. Maybe I should have just stayed home. It poured and my umbrella turned out to be broken. I slipped several times on the pavement, leaving my feet painfully curled in an unconscious effort to stay upright. So my sprained foot really hurt. I had to wait 40 minutes for the #22 bus, which is totally ridiculous since they're supposed to run at least twice an hour. When I got to my stop, I couldn't find the place. When I finally did, the conversation lasted a whopping five minutes and concluded with the interviewer saying, "Good luck with the bus". Oh, the petty indignities of life. I guess that I won't give them a follow up call.
The v-neck sweater completely resists all shrinking attempts and, perversely, becomes even deeper cut with each try. It's easy to block a sweater larger, but how on earth do you make it smaller when you want to?
I'm glad that I didn't buy a new laptop last year. The one that I wanted to buy has been greatly improved in the intervening time. All of the add-ons I priced out have become standards. You may recall, last year I realized that I had a nest egg large enough to get a new laptop or go to Europe for twenty days. I went to Europe. I'm looking to build another nest egg this fall, and the computer seems the prudent choice. It's just so damned sensible, though.

Am I one of a dying breed? I've read several places that makeup (or at least makeup that looks like makeup, an important distinction) is out. But I love makeup! I've finally given in to the indoctrination and the MAC counter. I'm amazed at how makeup can change a person's face, express their personality, and give the self-esteem a little boost. I don't NEED makeup; that is well established by years of wearing no makeup or natural looking things. Still, I like it and I figure that it's better to have fun now than when I am in my forties. Don't get me wrong-- I wouldn't wear the high fashion elaborate looks over to grandma's, but it was a thrill the first time I got a compliment on my makeup from the clerk at Sephora.
I finally learned how to do a good line in liquid liner the other day. What a thrill! I did a very classic heavy line to have brunch with my Mom and she nodded with approval when I told her it was inspired by the early slutty-looking Barbie dolls. I didn't go for the red lips though. I still don't think that I can carry that off...
A lot of designers are showing a smoky, plum eye for Fall (take that Vogue and your "inspired by Vermeer" natural look!), which I tried out today. It's fun, and a look that can be interpreted in different, age appropriate ways.
Well, enough about the old facepaint.
My latest, long dreamt of project just flew off the needles this week. I finally made the v-necked shell from Rowan's All Seasons Cotton collection. Funny, it doesn't look so low cut in the picture. It is undeniably, almost unwearably low cut, and I carefully followed the pattern on the neckline. Oh, and all of those eyelets that I carefully put in just roll inward to invisibility. So, I tried pressing it out with an iron. Mistake. I threw it back in the washer for another pass at blocking, but this may become a *sweater vest*. That would be a real disappointment.
I ran into my aunt at Borders today. I hadn't seen her in months, so we had a long chat. I ended up telling about how I need to figure out what it is I am going to do with the rest of my life and then do it. Not the easiest thing in the world. She was very understanding. Thank god I didn't just wear the shell anyway, low neck be damned!

Let's all observe a moment of silence for my dearly departed car, the Dorothy Parker. We had some good times together and some bad times as well. I learned to drive in that car, took her to college, drove to the East Coast and back many times. But she and I had to part ways in Western PA, on a rainy day at the Howard Johnson. I got fifty dollars for her. She's probably being flattened with a baler as I type this. I knew that we were nearing the end of our journey together, but I didn't know that it would be like this.

My goodness, it's been nearly a month since my last post, but you should be used to that by now.
In the meantime, I have:
* Done yet another college orientation. Because the boss can't be bothered and the intern was elsewhere.
* Flirted with abandon. It was nice to have a little sparkle in my life again.
* Closed a show, opened a show, and started tech on a third.
* Realized that somehow, all of these things have to fit back into my car.
* Sprained my foot. Thank god for worker's comp. Oh, and frozen peas.
* Seen a pink moon.
* Been to MoMA and was disappointed. They're very interested in Art, but not in the art. Their collection desperately needs editing and I'd love more illuminating wall text.
* Seen Giselle at the Met. I'd never been to Lincoln Center before, so it was a marvelous evening.
* Finally finished my box of wine. It lasted nearly all season. Sniff.

Now, I've only to survive the rest of tech week, dodge my boss's erratic moods (he punched the desk yesterday, straight on, which looked quite painful), and somehow pack up all my things into the Dorothy Parker for one last road trip. I'm not sure when I'll have the opportunity to rest my foot, but I have it wrapped in an Ace bandage, atop an overturned paperbasket. I haven't finished any of the knitting projects I brought with me. I blame this largely on startitis and a lack of knitting time. Still, not as bad as I'd feared at times, and better than I expected in others.

But Monday is my day off! Why am I at work?
Yes, I had to roll out of bed early this morning to run sound for a freshman orientation session for the university. I, not entirely awake or excited about this task, strolled over to the theatre in my pyjamas to discover it full of eighteen year old girls wearing unbearably cute (but trying not to try to hard) outfits. The plan for the day is still a bit unclear to me, but so far so good. Other than not really getting a day off.
I haven't gotten much knitting done lately. I was pretty gung-ho about a pair of socks for my grandmother, but then sort of fizzled out. I'm on Henry IV now, which eats up a lot of time. Yesterday, we had a two show day and I was at the theatre for eleven hours. Ack. Nearly everyone on the crew has some sort of reading material stashed away for the slow moments, so we had a mock book club meeting during our dinner break last night. There is a surprising variety of literature being traded amongst stagehands. The actors probably wouldn't be thrilled about that, but they must know that we don't watch the show in its entirety. I watch my favorite scenes, or the ones that have tricky cues in them, but that's hardly three hours' worth.