Daily Blogging? Fail!

Experts say that it takes a month of doing something for it to become a habit. I'd assume that excludes hard drugs. Well, I couldn't make it a week with the daily blogging. In my defense, the last two days felt like one, as I only got a three hour nap between them. Yes, I was busy. Busy doing interesting things, like seething at the CTA again, closing my show, drinking Jack Daniels out of a paper cup, and taking both the late and the early train.

The CTA is such an easy target. It's dirty and lousy and we're lucky to have anything. But I was especially pissed when my train (to catch the last commuter train of the night) came to a stop due to single track schemes for what seemed like an eternity. Actually, I have no idea how long it sat there, because I bailed, fearing a missed connection with my other train. So, in addition to paying $1.75 not to get where I was going, I had to take a $9 cab ride. Service was still shitty today. The blue line moved with a rapidity that would have been impressive during the Lincoln administration. It made noises like it was dragging a muffler behind it and was perhaps held together with metal hangers from the dry cleaners.

I'd made a deal with myself that I could sleep on the commuter train, which was a lie. I've slept on Metra once. I was sick as a dog and jet lagged at the time. One of my biggest fears is missing my stop, as they're fairly far apart, so I try very hard to stay awake on the way home. The way there seems perfectly safe, but is always somehow impossible. The Bears were playing a home game today, so there were plenty of obnoxious fans on the train. Still drunk at eight? Well, that happens. But already drunk at eight am and working your way through a suitcase of Icehouse? Impressive. If that describes you, please do not attempt eye contact or any other forms of flirtation with me. Cary Grant is more my type.

While desperately trying to stay awake on the ride home this evening, I paged through the new Vanity Fair. I wasn't impressed with the Belle du Jour inspired photo spread with Kate Winslet. There was the unexpected delight of Jon Hamm in the new Gap holiday campaign (pictured above). It is sort of strange to seen him in modern clothes instead of his chic Mad Men suits. Still, very handsome. I wish that AMC would order longer seasons of Mad Men. Sure, 30 Rock has new episodes now, so it's not a total television wasteland, but it's not really the same. Kind of like carob and chocolate.

I had a fairly busy day today, including a wake up call from my mom, lunch with Tyler, a regular appointment, the show, a visit to Zoe at work, and a call to the police.

I realize that it is not unreasonable to think someone might be awake at ten A.M., however, the someone was me. I was not, but I'd decided the night before that I wanted to wake up around that time. The previous night (well, very early this morning), I'd sent my mom an email asking her advice. The house next door has been vacant for a while and is now clearly abandoned. At first, there was a sign in the window and the grass in the yard was mown. Now, no signs, the back gate hanging at a drunken angle from its hinge, and the front door standing wide open. I'd assumed there was an agent in the house when I first saw the door ajar, but when it was still open at midnight two days later, I became concerned. I don't want to live next to a crack house. Most people don't. But I didn't know who to contact. Well, the police were happy to take care of it. I called their non-emergency line (which I had to look up. When I was a kid, they made us memorize the emergency and non-emergency numbers in Girl Scouts. Obviously, pre-911) and an officer showed up ten or fifteen minutes later. The door was closed when I came home tonight.

Winston alerted me to the police presence. Or maybe it was the mailman, who arrived at the same time. The sock patterns that I ordered from Blue Moon were waiting in a cardboard mailer between the doors. You can see how that would distract me from being a nosy neighbor. Since I have, as my mother put it, all of the sock yarn in the world, I've been looking for good sock patterns. Blue Moon has some really fabulous ones, including a couple that were just released from sock club exclusivity. When I'm done with all of my xmas knitting and have made a couple of warm sweaters, I plan to make the Cedar Creek Socks and Lenore, designed by the Yarn Harlot. How incredibly nerdy and fabulous are socks inspired by Edgar Allen Poe?

I'd hoped to catch Mamablue's etsy update this afternoon, but I was on the go. I even took my heavy old laptop with me to try to catch some free wi-fi. Since I don't *need* any more yarn, it's just as well that I missed it. I was hanging out with Zoe instead, and all of the wifi networks near her store required a key. When I checked after the show, everything had already been sold! Crazy. The Squid and Ink kit had piqued my interest, but I guess I'll just have to wait until they're released separately in 2009. And keep my fingers crossed that I can get them. The pattern, from what I can surmise while squinting intently at my monitor, looks like it would also work well from Malabrigo sock. I've had a skein of it sitting on my kitchen table for ages. It's just not my color, so I haven't been inspired, even though it is heavenly Malabrigo. I tried giving it to Tyler when I first got it, since he like manly colors like deep rust, but he doesn't do knitted socks and gave it back. Maybe I'll put it up for trade on Ravelry.

Wow.

The title says it all. I don't know what we'll talk about at work now, since the election has been our most popular topic of conversation. I got a text message from an octogenarian friend in England about Obama's victory, which charmed me to no end. Maybe texts are still a novelty to her, or she just didn't want to type out his name, but she called him Mr. B.O. I had to laugh. I've never smelled our president-elect, but I imagine he smells very nice. He seems like a sandalwood and lime peel man. My stepmother also sent out a celebratory email. She grew up in Hawaii and remembers all the excitement when the islands became a state. Who could have imagined that less than fifty years later there would be a Hawaiian in the White House? Of course, we like to think of him as one of our own in Chicago. It's really incredible how many people identify with Obama and claim his as one of their own. I'm missing out on part of the celebration. I know that his election is incredibly important to African-Americans. Obama's race is a bit of a non-issue for me, which is probably a sign of something much larger happening in American society.

I've decided not to rub salt in the wounds of the few McCain supporters that I know. I called to talk to my Grandmother about it yesterday, and she seemed upbeat, hopeful about the outcome. She also told me that my Grandfather has decided not to comment on it. I can only imagine how this seems to them. The next president is younger than their children. Obama is my generation's Kennedy and I think that my grandparents liked Ike.

On the knitting front-- I'm plugging away at the xmas presents. I am especially pleased with the wrist warmers currently on the needles. Just look at that thumb gusset, in established rib pattern. Ill! I designed it myself. I feel confident about my progress, even though I have a couple of big projects left to knit.

I just had my date with destiny. It couldn't have been a lovelier day for it, either. Most years, the first week of November is wickedly cold in Chicago, but this year it is sweater weather, sunny, and has just enough of a breeze to make the leaves crinkle on the ground. I happily strolled through them on my way to the polling place, a smile on my face. This is the most important election of my life thus far, and I just voted. Now, I have to wait and see what the rest of the country does. I've backed a couple of losing horses in the past (okay, all of the people 'til now), but I am optimistic. I have confidence that a lot of like-minded people will go to the polls today.

So, I'm over the pity party for now. After whining about not getting any knitting done, I finished a pair of socks and cast on for a pair of wrist warmers. They are also being made up in Claudia Handpainted Sport. I really love this yarn. It was supposed to make a pair of socks for my mom, but one of them was in my old car when it was stolen. One skein won't make a pair of socks, so one beloved relative is in luck!

I will probably post again later, but I'm going to take a nap now. I could hardly sleep last night. Part of that was excitement about the election, and part of it was princess and the pea syndrome. I'd spread out most of my stash on the bed to plan out the xmas presents and it wasn't as cozy as you would think. Not even that giant bale of Manos.

In honor of NaBloPoMo, I am making an effort to blog more often. Every day might be a little unrealistic, but I think that I can write something worthwhile more than twice a month. I'm listening to jazz now, waiting for the words to come. This is the time of year for jazz. There's probably jazz appropriate to each season, but I am currently on an introspective jazz kick: Bill Evans and Miles Davis. Something cerebral, quiet, and a little lonely, like me. I listened to Kind of Blue as I drove to work the other day and it was perfect. The weather has been warm enough to take in an autumnal breeze through the moonroof and the trees are at the height of their beauty.

I haven't gotten as much knitting done as I'd like. Part of that has to do with not taking the train as often, and part of that has to do with my emotional landscape. I've got the blahs. Similar to the blues, but with different letters. Some of it has to do with my show closing this weekend. I really like the people that I work with, and I will miss them. I like having some human interaction and some shape to my week. There are also some other things that don't really have anything to do with me, but still bring tears to my eyes. I've been a weepy drunk lately, which is a relatively new development. Alcohol is like other drugs in that respect: mysteriously influenced by your underlying state. And lately, that hasn't been too fun. No one wants to be the crying drunk girl.

I took an amazing bath on Halloween, when I was feeling low. The water was deep purple, with silver glitter, as though I were soaking in the night sky. It was the last Black Purl that I had in my stash. I hadn't been saving it, exactly, and Halloween seemed perfect. I didn't wear a costume this year or hand out candy, but I didn't hide with the lights out either. A work friend and I went out for a drink in Wicker Park, where we got in some excellent people watching. Casey observed that Halloween is the time for men to dress as women and women to dress as whores, which was pretty accurate. I was impressed by the dedication involved in some of the costumes we saw. These people didn't buy something at Walgreens or throw together a costume at the last minute. We saw a Duff Man, a package of baloney, several Jokers, an amazing Fifth Element costume (she must have been relieved that it was warm!), and a couple of good Sarah Palins. Another of my coworkers had a brilliant team costume: he dressed as the Joker and his girlfriend as Palin, with Joker/Palin 08 buttons. There were also several women who were either dressed as whores or actual whores. It was kind of hard to tell. Good, low effort fun.

It's November now, which means I really need to get my ass in gear making xmas presents. I imagine that I'll get in some quality knitting time watching the election returns tomorrow. When I'm not drunk or crying. Those are election night traditions, though I hope to be crying tears of joy this year. So far, I have finished one pair of socks and a scarf. I'm more than halfway finished on the second sock of a second pair, but I also want to knit two shrugs, two sweaters, and a hat. Maybe some armwarmers too if I don't kill my wrists. No, I'm not smoking crack, but I have eaten a lot of Smarties. Well...less typing and more knitting!

Don't plan an intervention; those are Smarties on the album cover.