If I were to have that imaginary dinner party that people talk about idly, inviting anyone from history, I would invite Samuel Pepys. I'm re-reading his edited diaries now and I feel that I know him. He wasn't writing for an audience, so the content is more intimate and unguarded. It's also a great first person account of some of the most interesting parts of English history. He was personally involved in the return of Charles II, witnessed the Great Fire of London, and attended a great deal of theatre. After dinner, he might play his flageolet or regale us with old backstage gossip.

Pepys also spends a lot of time chasing after women, talking about clothes, and running all over London getting papers signed or dispatched. He nearly went blind from all his paperwork, which may be why he stopped keeping his diary in 1669. I doubt it was for lack of material; almost every entry contains some gem. Did you know that the word turd was already in popular usage in 1660? It's also interesting to see what has stayed the same, like Pepys wishing to God that he'll be able to afford his new silk suit.

Phil Gyford runs a website, Pepys' Diary, that is a great introduction to the text. It displays an entry from the current date, but you can also browse different dates. Perhaps you'll make a periwigged friend there.

Found on Ravelry

I was just thinking sour thoughts about a favorite blogger not updating in a while, when I realized that I haven't written anything on this blog in over five months. Some of that is due to lack of material. Some of it is hesitation to write about a current production.

So, what have I been up to since January? Well, I engineered another musical. It was a new work, or new-ish work that had only been workshopped before. Yes, that is a verb in the theatre. New works are a mixed blessing. Everything was new once. Four hundred odd years ago, Shakespeare probably paced backstage wondering if Hamlet would be a hit. Sometimes, a new work turns out to be a hit, an amazing, exhilarating experience. Other times, you want to kill the writers and run far, far away. I don't know what the future holds for that show, but I hope to remain friends with the wonderful company of actors, musicians, and technicians (okay, technician singular-- it was just me and the stage manager) assembled to perform it.

I've become more of a hermit lately. Maybe hermit is a misnomer. More properly, the word is homebody, which is incredibly unappealing. Basically, I spend a lot of time in my house. It takes something special to interest me in going out. As a result, I think I may have inadvertently drifted away from some friends and acquaintances. If we haven't talked in a while, drop me a line or give me a ring. I get a little too involved in living a life of the mind sometimes.

I had an idea for a hermit newsletter recently, but the internet already serves that purpose. Also, some people have suggested that hermits aren't interested in sharing their thoughts and ideas or in the thoughts and ideas of others. Not true, I say, but I don't know of any hermits who might be interested. What are the odds that a couple of hermits would know each other, though?

Here's a list of things that have gotten me out of the house. I'll write more about them later.

• A Ron Sexsmith concert at Schuba's
• The Dream in Color factory sale (I even got up early for it!)
• Liza Minelli's Daughter, a cabaret written and starring my college classmate Mary Fons

Bah Humbug. And Happy Belated Saturnalia.

So, the holidays are over. They really weren't so bad, except that it is impossible for them to live up to all of the crazy expectations. I am wary of any event that calls for general felicity, especially during the most depressing time of the year. It's cold and dark and I'm supposed to be having the time of my life? Bah!

Christmas wasn't that bad this year. I did a lot of knitting for gifts, but also bought a few as well. About a week before Christmas, I looked at the sweater I was knitting for my grandmother with a critical eye and decided that it would not do. It was more than halfway done and in worsted weight yarn. Instead, I decided to go the totally illogical route and start a new sweater in dk weight hemp. By illogical, I mean crazy. Over two hundred stitches in every row, worked in stiff, finger torturing hemp; I must be a masochist. Everyone else who knit that pattern on Ravelry took a month to finish it. I made mine in five days. All I did was knit and breathe for those five days. I knit everywhere. I cannot tell you how relieved I was when it was finished, a cool twenty four hours before Christmas Eve dinner. Especially my hands. Please note, the picture is neither my grandmother nor the sweater I knit, just the same pattern. It turned out very well, but still quite stiff. Since it was far too cold to go outside and beat the sweater against a rock (not a joke), I put it through the spin cycle and high agitation in the washer about six times. My grandmother reports that she has tried on the sweater and likes it, especially the neckline. I'm glad that all of those short rows didn't go amiss. I also made the sleeves on hers a bit longer, as octogenarians are usually reticent to show so much arm.

On the present front, I got a set of Harmony interchangeable needles, which are the bee's knees. I'm using them now to make a sweater in soft, cushy wool. My hands deserve a reward. I've revived the Dream in Color Classy that made most of a wrap cardigan a couple years ago and languished afterward to make a cowl-y/turtleneck sweater. I don't find turtlenecks especially flattering on large busted ladies, but this turtleneck is very relaxed. I described it recently as looking like a cowl and and turtleneck smoked marijuana together. The resulting fabric is a dream, though I do have to watch for pooling and changes between skeins.

I am trying to step it up a notch in the wardrobe department, so I have decided to knit and wear more sophisticated pieces. No more hoodies for me, unless they feature incredibly chic Celtic designs and look like a million dollars. I decided this after my aunt referred to her "dress hoodie", which must be an oxymoron. No more things that look cozy. Stealth luxury is the key, like handknit socks and dreamy fibers. I've also weeded out the rattiest jeans from my wardrobe and bought some really dark indigo replacements. And an adorable pair of Swedish heels that I can't wear in the snow, which is probably why they were on sale. Still, I am trying to look like less of a slob and more of an adult.

Glad to see I'm not the only romantic out there.

Maybe it's all the moving about of yarn or the presence of a new roommate, but Winston has been all over the place the last few days. He jumped on top of my highboy dresser, sending assorted jewelery flying to the ground, and breaking a pair of unrepairable hoop earrings. He keeps meowing and pawing at the closed door to the room where he used to nap in the afternoon. Winston is unaware that not everyone wants to sleep in a cat's nest. Then, this afternoon, I came home and found him poised to jump off of the high shelf in my closet. I suspect if I had not intervened, he would have knocked the monitor off my desk. It's also unclear how he got up there, since he's a lazy jumper.
In other news, my destash is off to a good start, but I still have twenty items available. Here is a flickr badge of the available yarns:

www.flickr.com

This is a Flickr badge showing items in a set called destash '10. Make your own badge here.

Please have a peek at my destash page on Ravelry and PM me if you have any questions.