I was looking forward to seeing the Waco Brothers play Martyrs. I recently worked on a show based on Jon Langford's work, so it was an exciting prospect. I told all my friends. My mental note to attend might as well have been in all caps, italics, and circled. This afternoon, I spent forever in the bathroom, putting on my makeup and practically singing Anita's part from the Tonight quintet in West Side Story (Yes, I am a nerd, but that is Sondheim and Bernstein.). I rushed through errands and dinner, afraid of being late for the show. Well, I was. Twenty-four hours late. Fuck. What a stupid mistake. I'd hoped to listen to great music and perhaps swap bodily fluids with a charming man and instead found a totally dead bar. At least I looked fabulous in my disappointment. What was I doing last night, when I should have been at Martyrs? Watching Project Runway and knitting a fucking mitten, unwittingly suffering the lingering effects of mercury retrograde. Friends that I inadvertently blew off, I apologize. I lift a glass of Courvoisier and wish that you were here, and that I had been there.

After writing that introspective New Year's Eve post, I had a dramatic reversal of fortune. Nothing permanent, but damned inconvenient.

After I picked up Winston from the vet, I noticed that he smelled like pee. Winston is particular about his hygiene, never smelling like pee, and certainly not near his head. I have no idea what happened while he was at the vet, but quickly realized that I'd have to give him a bath. Happy New Year, Winston! He was thoroughly unhappy with this turn of events. Can't say I really blame him. Soon, he and I were both cold and miserable, huddled under my new electric blanket.

Around this time, I discovered that my hot water heater had crapped out. It still made hot water, but it also made it all over the utility room floor. Bad news. My mom called my uncle Roy, who advised cutting off the valve to the heater and bleeding it. She came over, bled the water heater, and hustled me and a still quite damp cat out of the house. Poor Winston!

Fortunately, we were able to stay at my grandparents' house, where there are many heat ducts for Winston to hover, a heat lamp, and many, many places for a cat to explore. I would often stop over here to have a drink with my Grandfather on New Year's Eve, so it was a bit ironic that I ended up here. No countdowns or toasts for us, just curling up in a warm bed while the neighbors set off fire crackers.

Winston is curled up under a bed, and I am watching a Law and Order marathon, working on my Daybreak shawl. I am about two thirds done, which means many, many stripes. I decided to use Noro Silk Garden Sock, so most of the work is done in the striping for me, but I've been working from two balls to make single color stripes as the rows get longer and longer. This also allows me to cut out the colors that I don't like from the skeins without having to worry about the yardage. As my crazy color matching sleeves on my summer cardigan last year prove, I can never leave well enough alone where Noro is concerned.

Young and Foolish

Today is the last day of an awful year and a horrible decade. Part of me can't wait for it to be over, but mostly, I don't care. I feel unmoored, which is a strange way to start a new year. If anything, it serves to highlight how arbitrary new year's is; one more mark on the calendar. Most of you probably know why this year has been so difficult, but the decade is more complex. It's hard to separate the wreck of this nameless decade from my twenties. They both started bright and burned fast, full of heartbreak and flagging optimism. Then, I was young and foolish, ready to fly off the handle all the time. Now I am more circumspect and cynical.

This was my first Christmas without my maternal grandparents. I didn't really feel like celebrating. I never caught the holiday spirit (just gastroenteritis and two colds), since I was working on a show that closed only a few days before Christmas. Most of the items on that overly ambitious knitting list went unfinished or unmade. Normally, that would make me feel guilty, but this year, people got purchased gifts of indifference. Not shitty or thoughtless, but not up to my usual standards. I wonder when that will return, or if that line drawn through my life of before and after is impermeable.

Christmas itself was fine. I came down with a cold, which made my favorite dinner of the year pretty flavorless. My gifts were well received, I think. It was a capital year for knitting gadgets. My Aunt Maria gave me a Knit Kit, which is like a swiss army knife for knitters that looks like a pack of birth control pills. My mom gave me a swift, ball winder, sweater stone, and blocking tiles. It must have been a capital month for Knitpicks. I can wind yarn whenever I want now, if the cat is otherwise occupied. I also got a Borders gift card, which I used today to get a knitting daily calendar (at 50% off, I'm less irritated by the ratio of bad to good patterns), the latest issue of Mental Floss, and two L.M. Montgomery books to replace copies that were loved to death in my childhood. Ninety-seven cents remain on the card, which delights me more than that amount in change possibly could.

Perhaps I will curl up in my bed with one of the books, under my new electric blanket. A mug of cocoa might be nice. I received a few NYE party invites, but I think they will fall to the wayside. I'm generally wary of events requiring universal felicity. No matter what you do, they're almost always a letdown. This year, I think a good wallow is required, which is how I rang in 2000. Well, that and a pretentious black and white art film, but I'll skip that part of the evening. Maybe I'll catch a good Law and Order or House marathon and get some serious knitting done. I overheard my mom and Aunt Holly making plans to exchange gifts in a couple weeks, and my gifts for them are as yet unmade.

Here's a lovely, visual version of my 2009 xmas list:

my wists | clone this

It was hard to come up with a list this year, since I mainly want to be able to breathe through my nose again and for this year to be over. Or the decade to be over, since it's been so lousy. Can't wrap a bow around that, can you?

I am cold and damp. Today, I thought it would be a good idea to go shopping, even though it was raining. Ha. Wouldn't you know, just as I was coming out of Target, with my cart full of Christmas wrapping supplies and other goodies, the sky opened up. As soon as I got home, it had slowed to a drizzle, but I was already soaked to the skin. Guess we've reverted to typical November weather after that lovely week of Indian summer.

Isn't it early for Christmas? Well, yes. I nearly burst into tears in the middle of a Christmas display today. It was not a high self-esteem moment. I am working on a show now that closes mere days before Christmas, which means that I have to gather all my supplies early, like a squirrel with acorns. I've got paper, tags, and boxes. Now all I have to do is knit the gifts to go inside them! This year, I made a really ambitious list of Christmas knitting. Some would call it crazy. It is crazy. Who else would think they could knit a sweater, blanket, two shawls, four hats, two sets of fingerless gloves, and a sock monkey between now and Christmas? Guess what I'll be doing with every spare moment between now and the 24th?

Today is the first full day I've had off and been conscious since tech. Tech was epic and hard. What a perfect time to come down with gastroenteritis! I was so tired that I wanted to take a nap half an hour after getting out of bed, but soldiered on. The Monday after tech was nothing but naps. I had envisioned making great strides on my Hap Blanket, maybe taking a bubble bath. Nope. In the past, I've flippantly said that I'd sleep when I'm dead, but I don't want to die anytime soon. I'm even going to the doctor tomorrow to talk about what I can do to help boost my immune system. Within the past three months, I've had the flu and this GI debacle, and I can't take anymore. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Tonight, I did something that I haven't done in ages. I watched NBC. Since they moved Leno into primetime, I haven't. 30 Rock and I have a standing date on Hulu on Friday mornings. 9 pm used to belong to NBC on my tv, but the shows that used to air at 9 are on at 8 now. There are other things that I watch at 8. This week, however, there are mysterious baseball games pre-empting Glee and other excellent shows. So I decided to give my old friend another chance and caught an episode of Law and Order SVU. I reached for the remote promptly at 8:59 to change the channel. NBC, we are broken up. I might still check up on you online, but it would take something pretty special to get me back. I'll act like we're reconciling for the Olympics, but I'll go back to the good time gals of cable right after the closing ceremonies. Try to look surprised when it happens.