I had a really lousy day today. I was harassed by a homeless man while getting my first coffee of the day (*DON'T INTERRUPT THE COFFEE*), felt lousy enough at work to leave early and therefore worry about getting a lecture about skiving off, and fell down the stairs at the train station and skinned my knee and palm. When it rains it pours, but at least I didn't do a face plant on concrete. My knee really effin' hurts. I had forgotten about that, since it's probably been a decade or more since my last skinned knee. So I am feeling a little self-pitying and cranky.
The Ravelry gods (god and goddess?) have put in a new feature for short attention span types like me. You can now check your position in the waiting list through the website, instead of sending imploring emails. I was a bit optimistic in thinking that I'd get in this week, though not far off the mark. They sent invites out to people who registered on or before May 28th. I registered on the 30th. There are 477 people in line ahead of me, but I don't think it will be long. I can't remember being this excited about an invitation since I got my first college acceptance letter. Is that geek chic?
In addition to all of the other goings-on, knit wise, I have started a new project of my own design. It's small, so I refuse to feel guilty. I'm making a soap case that folds out into an exfoliating washcloth, in a lovely shade of green hemp. There are a few things that I wish I had planned better, but not worth tearing it out over. I've also been paging through my old Phildar magazines for inspiration. God, are cable patterns confusing in French! There are a couple of things that I'd like to make, one of which looks like Thermal by Laura Chau, only larger gauge and with lacy yarnovers. The directions really made me think that it really is easier to do cables instead of fake cables, but I'm sure if I took the time to chart it, it wouldn't be so bad. Because I really need more to knit :)

This was the week that I did not get my invite from Ravelry, despite repeated checking of email in-boxes. I felt fairly optimistic on Sunday, but that feeling has dissipated. Fortunately, I've had a few other things to do.
I won a round of bingo at Roscoe's last night. I think it may have been the first time that I've ever won at bingo and I was a bit surprised. I was a bit drunk, thanks to the special on pitchers of apple martinis, which makes it harder to watch your card. My whole table was a group of girl-drink drunks. I won a fuzzy die (not a pair of dice) for my vehicle and a pair of blue pom poms that remind me of Fraggle Rock. A good time was had by all.
My order from Amazon arrived today. No books with plots, alas, but I'm kind of off fiction at the moment. This is not to say that I won't be standing in line like a fool to get my new Harry Potter next week. I will. Today, I got Tracey Ullman's book, a ho-hum book of quick projects called Speed Knitting, and The Perfect Summer by Juliet Nicholson. I may curl up early with a book instead of the usual tv and knitting marathon.
I also made a yarn pilgrimage this week. A bit of unexpected free time presented itself, so I headed out to Chix with Stix in Forest Park. It's a charming yarn shop with lots of natural light and Colinette yarn. That was the primary reason for the trip (secondary reason: green tea ice cream at the place next door), since Chix is the only store in the Chicago area that carries Colinette's new sock yarn, Jitterbug. I exercised some self control and only purchased two skeins. Due to the shitty exchange rate (thanks, Bush administration!), there's no longer a price advantage in having it shipped over from the UK.
My hours are changing at work, so I may be a little hard to reach for the next week. Even though it will call for a major shift in my sleep patterns (ugh), I am optimistic. I really think that working during the day will help me to get out of my sales rut. And I won't have to ask for time off to go to concerts in the park, friends' shows, etc. I'll just have to get up and go to work the morning after.

Back in my day...

I just spent an evening with my cousins, Annie and Kathy, whom I see about every 7 years or so. I'd forgotten how cool they are. They're both out of high school now and are really excited and passionate about lots of things in their lives. Katherine is going to a theatre conservatory school in the fall and we talked about it all night. I'm really excited for her. It makes me remember that point in my life. I guess that college does that for older people. I remember the wistful looks and odd remarks that my mom's friends made when I went off to school. One of them told me that college was the best time in her life. I'm not sure that I would say that. Maybe the best time of my life is still ahead of me. That's the fodder for late night thoughts.

I feel a little guilty about the Ravelry whinge in my last post. I await that invite like a kid awaits Christmas. Really, I'm not ticked about the wait. You probably know how impatient I am, if you've been reading my blog for a while (or know me in real life). I follow the comings and going of my mailman almost obsessively when I'm expecting a package. It turns out that that is actually prudent, given his lackadaisical approach to his job. I blame this expectation of instant gratification on the internet. This seems random, I know, but follow me here: You can buy and download an album in like five minutes from the itunes store, find the answer to just about any question online in far less time than a trip through the library stacks takes, and connect with the world in a way that just didn't exist five or ten years ago. I say five because I went to school pre-facebook. All of my networking involved awkward questions in close vicinity to a keg, like "what's your major?" and pretentious jokes about theatre. Things used to take longer, and people were okay with that. We didn't have expectations of things happening instantly. I checked in over at the Ravelry blog, where the most recent post responds to impatient complaints. I felt guilty as I read it, as though I had been the person who sent them some mysterious, hateful, impatient email. I didn't, but I'm a pisces. They predict sending invites out to people who registered before May 28th this week. I think that includes me! Yay! I might disappear for a little while when I get my invite, because I hear that Ravelry is addictive (in a good way). Thank god I can't read my email at work, or I'd probably get fired for stalking my inbox for the invite.

Today is the last day of the Taste. What a relief! There's something about the Taste that brings out my inner hater, I guess. I just want my regular commute back. Maybe in addition to the family car on the trains, they should have a curmudgeons' car. It would be full of people quietly reading-- no loud music leaks, cell phone conversations, random conversations that amount to me giving a total stranger thirty minutes of free therapy, etc. I'd be there, happily reading the New Yorker and listening to weird Japanese ambient music.

There have been some bright spots. Last week, I was riding home, tired, bored, and knitting as usual, in a train full of boisterous people. They were drunk but happy, unlike my July 3rd ride from hell. I was sitting there minding my own business when I heard some of the revelers saying, hey, hey, hey. Oh, shit, I thought, and steeled myself for the usual taunts. "Knit me a scarf," said one of the kids in the gallery. Sigh. Why do non-knitters think that is funny? Then, one of the guys clarified: "We're not making fun of you. What you're doing is different." I smiled, having never received a literal shout out for my knitting. "Let's give big props to the single mom downstairs." he continued. What the fuck? I wasn't traveling with a small child and I'm not knocked up. Do I have a really mumsy look or something, I thought. Then I realized, it's the knitting. The old knitting stereotype. Why would some young, chic single gal want to knit (in public of all places) unless there was a kid involved?

For many, many years, I avoided knitting in pastels for fear of situations like this. That is, until the recent pastel explosion chez Kirstin. Colors come in cycles, of course. Maybe it's a seasonal thing. That, or I'm finally working more colors into my wardrobe. Look, there's even coral, which is as close to orange as I get! The coral is being used in Interweave Knits' Summertime Tunic, which was the "baby" project I was knitting on the train. There's a free pdf of the pattern on their website, if you're interested/curious. I've made tons of progress on it this week, mostly due to determined knitting on the train. The other yarns are all alpacas. If you look closely, you can spot a cartoonish alpaca on one of the ball bands.

I've made a couple of baby sweaters recently for actual babies that do not belong to me. That is how I like it. I will admit that I got a little emotional when I put them together. They're just so small and cute (like the tiny people involved). I'm angling for the crazy aunt slot in this equation: the one who isn't really a relative, but is cool and spoils the kids with presents of questionable appropriateness. You might also note that neither sweater is pastel. The twins are the offspring of costume designers, so I have to bring my A game. The sweaters are an adaptation of the kimonos in Louisa Harding's Natural Knits for Babies book, made in RYC Cashsoft yarn. Only a crazy aunt would give babies cashmere sweaters, right? Totally washable cashmere blend, not totally impractical!

The 4th was fantastic. I went to two barbecues, one of which featured many, many fireworks. Their neighbors must have spent thousands of dollars on their explosives. They were big, loud, and impressive. It was a great evening. The bottle of Gewürztraminer that I bought at the Co-op turned out to be really good. It was a total pig in a poke, as I'm not really up on German wines, so its quality was a pleasant surprise. My hostess, Shannon, has just discovered the sheer joy of backstage knitting and proudly showed me her projects. It made me nostalgic for a time when I could knit at work. She's already started work on her Christmas presents. Did you guess that she's a stage manager? This put my mind spinning about my own present drawer, now sadly empty. Typically, I being my Christmas knitting in September. My family isn't as large as the Waltons, but that's still cutting it close. Inspired by Shannon's ability to plan ahead, I decided to get cracking myself. Once the books I ordered from Amazon arrive, I'll be in business. I had planned to buy from the LYS, but when I found Knit 2 Together for $5 new, I couldn't resist! I may email a few (female) family members soon about sizing, favorite colors, etc., but try to forget between now and Christmas. Or at least look surprised, eh?

I've been waiting patiently for my Ravelry invite. Well, as patiently as possible. They've compared it to the Gmail invites, but since I got a very early Gmail invite from Blogger, it doesn't really translate for me. While I wait for that exclusive invite to arrive in my inbox, I've been looking at Craftster instead. I could easily become a Craftster addict. This is one of the ways that the internet has really revolutionized knitting. I can see projects that people made in Japan, read about modifications that other people made and weird pattern errata. I've added a couple of projects to the mental list after seeing FOs on Craftster. If I were on Ravelry, I could add them to an actual queue, but that will have to wait.

Saturday morning I had to rise from my extremely cozy bed at 8 am to go to work. That is a struggle on the best of days, but very difficult after being kept awake by the blaring bass beats coming from next door until 2.30 am. I honestly contemplated calling the police, which I rally don't want to do. It's a square thing to do, and it would be fairly obvious who called. But 2.30, neighbor? Not cool. I had a lot of coffee on the train (full of people unused to riding public transportation, sigh) and managed to get to work only ten minutes late. Those ten minutes caused by the great slow moving mass of people inching towards the Taste of Chicago. Taste brings everyone out of the woodwork. Or, as my coworker put it, all sorts of people who walk down the street as though they've never walked on pavement. It's all pretty quotidian for me now, so I must take the crowds in stride. Slow, short stride.
Fortunately, I have a few other things to think about. My knitting for example. I may be a convert to the socks on circs method. I really dig it. I used to scoff, saying why fix what isn't broken (double point needles), not wanting to buy loads of long circular needles. I still cast a doubtful eye on the two circs method. That's a lot of cash, buying all of those Addi lace needles! I wish that I could post a pic to illustrate this method, but I've promised not to post any in-progress photos of the supersocks. Trade secrets and all.
Yesterday, I went to the big sale at my favorite LYS. A number of popular, excellent yarns were 40% off. When I got there around 2.30, it looked like a monkey had been loose in the store. The pima silk yarn that I wanted was greatly diminished, and there was much diving into bins to root out additional balls of a given color. In the end, I bought enough alpaca yarn to make a short-sleeved polo shirt, a lacy tank and matching shrug, and a few "just in case" balls for the 4C alpaca cardigan. Fortunately, I had parked quasi-legally right in front of the store and didn't have to carry my purchases very far. When I say quasi-legally, I mean illegally. In Chicago, most on-street parking is free or becomes legal on Sundays. I actually parked in a no parking ever zone, along with a few other hardy souls counting on the CPD being otherwise occupied. Sure enough, no tickets, clamps, or tow trucks--thanks to crowd control staffing over at the Taste.
My mother also just gave me ten balls of Baby Alpaca Grande, in a kind of lemon-lime color. It's fabulous yarn, and an incredibly generous gift. Basically, she gave me enough yarn to make a cardigan. A big, cozy, green cardigan. So, I officially do not need any more yarn or projects for a while. Here's a list of things in the knitting queue (I refuse to disclose the contents of my stash, for fear of being hauled away to a round room):
*the baby sweaters (really, almost done. just sewing at this point)
*the ubersocks
*summertime tunic from Interweave Knits, in a soft, coral color. I'd like to be able to wear it at least once this summer.
* slip-stitch tank from Fitted Knits, in a rich purple color. Again, a summer garment.
And many, many more. I'll just have to be a knitting ostrich for a while and work on projects I've already stashed. Pics to follow soon.

Ambitious Plans Foiled by Arrival of New Issue of The New Yorker

I meant to go into work early today. Then the New Yorker came in the mail. I had to read it straightaway, because if you fall behind on your New Yorkers, there is no catching up. Also, the handymen that were supposed to arrive at "nine-ish" showed up around 12:15. That's one hell of an "ish". So, I didn't accomplish all of the things that I wanted today, but I got to read urbane prose. Today was a slow day at work, so I doubt a couple of extra hours would have gotten me very far. Maybe it was the storm and all of its moodiness.

I ran into an old acquaintance the other day, which was slightly awkward. She was as condescending as ever, saying "I thought you were going to go into theatre," and other such gems. She also went on to comment on my current employer, stating she'd tried to get a job there and they wouldn't hire her. Oh, where to begin. Don't get me wrong, I can be a priss at times too. I had truly forgotten the slow burn that her remarks cause. Further complicating matters: I saw here while she was applying at a business where I spend a lot of time (no hints, sorry). I really think that I would spend less time there were they to hire her, and therefore less money. That, or I'll have to practice my rejoinders. "You enjoy being critical, don't you?" usually shuts people down.

I don't mean to sound like such a misanthrope. I was pretty amazed the other day by a Good Samaritan. Apparently, I left my monthly pass on the train and someone found it, turned it in to Lost and Found, and called me. I hadn't even realized that it was missing yet. So, not everyone out there is a crumb.

I, unfortunately, have been knitting in denial. This is one type of denial so deep that it is rarely shared with a therapist. I worked and worked feverishly on the sock on the train, at Ravinia, in front of the telly. On some level, I knew that it was a little, em, baggy, but I soldiered on. I had to pull it all out. Okay, a setback, but not a major one. I cast on again, ignoring the ramen-like crimps in the recycled yarn. Well, they show in the knitted fabric, so I had to tear it out again. At that point, I really wasn't up to attacking it again, so I put the sock aside and worked on the languishing baby sweaters. Tomorrow is another day, after all.