Gone

There's been no word on my car. I've been stalking it on the police website, which is quite handy. Also suggests that a lot of cars are stolen in the city... It is really inconvenient not having a car. Public trans where I live is basically non-existent and nothing a walkable distance. But underneath the inconvenience is the violation. I feel violated that someone took my car and all of my possessions in it. I care more about the possessions than the car, honestly. I can get another car, but what about my favorite bag? Every time that I think of something in the car, I feel that a bit of that shock that I felt when I saw that the car was gone.

I've also recently suffered what Jane Austen would call a romantic disappointment. It wasn't a grand affair or anything, but it was something that had ignited a spark of joy in my soul. And now that's gone, too. I think that is what I will miss the most: that frisson of pleasure every time that I saw him, the little flirty high of our exchanges, the taste of his kisses.

One of my exes said that cynicism is the condom of the romantic's soul. I may have to retreat into that hard little shell that I wore for so many years for a little while. It's hard to see any overarching purpose to the events of this week, but perhaps this is a lesson in what I don't need in life, what I can do without.

Deja Vu

Remember when my car was stolen a couple of years ago? It's happened again. I might laugh if had happened to someone else, but I am at wit's end. Why would anyone want to steal a 1994 Buick Century? Why does this keep happening to me? I parked it in a non-skeazy lot where I have parked many times before, displayed my ticket, locked the doors like a responsible adult, etc., but still it is gone. I am heartbroken.

Things that I am pissed about being taken with the car: several bags of Malabrigo yarn, a bag of Rowan Tapestry that I'm supposed to use in a store sample, lots of Colinette Tagliatelli, my haul from the Knitting Workshop sale, and the Misti cotton that I bought to make a new Something Red. Also: my good eyeshadow brush, irreplaceable test skein of Malabrigo sock, and a good part of my MAC stash. Damn you, car thieves! I hope that you get gangrenous feet! I hope that all of your sweaters get moth holes and shrink in the wash!

Until all of this is resolved, my transportation options are very limited. Please do not be offended if I turn down an invitation. Maybe I can't get there, or would prefer to spend time sulking in my bathtub.

Noro spring

I don't normally work on weekends, but I'm strangely glad that I did this week. If I hadn't, I probably would have stayed inside all day, knitting in front of the telly, and missed out on this beautiful weather. Meghan and I walked around for a while after our meeting this afternoon and discovered the signs of spring in our neighborhood. Hackney's has put out their beer garden. Many a wonderful hour has been spent at those wobbly tables, like the last night that I saw Jenny before she moved to Spain or when Lisa and I smoked a Cuban cigar. There were a lot of dogs out today, and college students discovering their inner flaneurs.

Meghan and I ended up at Sandmeyer's, a lovely little bookstore near our shop. I really enjoyed going there with her, as Meghan is just as big a bibliophile as I am. She even bought a book that I've been recommending to her! I love that she trusts my taste that much. I spent a good fifteen minutes completely engrossed in a book of transit maps of the world. I felt a little nostalgic pointing out stops I have known in London and Paris. We also learned that Mongolia has excellent stamps. Perhaps there are a lot of epistolary romances there.

The Noro cardigan is progressing admirably. Since it's a yarn we're trying to highlight in the shop, I can actually knit it at work. I've been pleasantly surprised at how nicely the Matsuri knits up, given how rustic other Noro yarns are. I would be knitting now, except the ball that I brought with me doesn't match the established stripe pattern. Normally, I'm not so exacting about my knitting, but I think the cardigan would look too crazy if I didn't make the color repeats match. I am usually more conservative in my design choices (it seems pointless to follow trends when so much work is involved), so I'm really enjoying this. It's like a dash of paprika.

I've been pretty busy being a Pisces lately. My moods have been up, down, all around. I've been rocking the under-eye circles (partly because I stay in bed until the last possible moment and don't have time to slap on some concealer). I'm dying to sleep in, loll about in bed without a care in the world. A quick glance at my schedule reveals that isn't possible until Friday. Argh.

Yesterday was my day off, but I was busy all day doing responsible adult things, like going to the bank. Oh, and a four plus hour trip the the salon to get my hair fixed. I'm always surprised at how long it takes at this particular place, like I've never been there before. But seriously, four hours? I had loose plans to meet a friend for lunch, but had to cancel via text message while my hair was covered in foils. Very classy. Still, all that sitting still was worth it. My red on red color is fabulous, and the stylist fixed my almost-right-yet-irritatingly-wrong haircut in five minutes.

So, I took my beautiful hair to the symphony. I've been looking forward to this concert all season, since it featured music from Vertigo, my favorite film. Other audience members seemed less thrilled, like the women to either side of me who snored throughout the concert (that's an expensive nap!), or the couple who argued all through intermission. The funniest thing about their argument was how poorly articulated it was. "You know how I feel about Vertigo," the woman raged, "Some woman dies in it." Um, isn't that the basic plot of most of Hitchcock's films? The program was brilliant. I wish that it had been my idea. It was a bit static at times, which may have led to the snores, and perhaps a bit too conceptual for some. The Friday Night at the Movies series usually features films with live scoring, not an intermedia piece (again, so jealous).

So, I'm off to work today. Normally, this would be my day off, but I am covering for a coworker going to a Cubs game. So I'll be the designated redhead today.

Music is the answer

I've been dragging around the house today. The internet does not amuse me and no one's picking up the phone. Ennui has set in. Nothing entertains me today, and I find myself brooding over the meaning of Sinatra lyrics. Isn't "A Very Good Year" really about the need for more and more stimuli, how our tastes become more sophisticated as we age? Maybe it's the return of Saturn, I don't know. I try to play it cool and I can't.

What has gotten me out of this Piscean funk? My drug of choice, music. Perhaps you have heard that Zooey Deschanel has an album out. Buy it. I wouldn't have thought that she could be more adorable, but She & Him makes me love that quirky, wide-eyed indie girl even more. Happy/sad love songs, retro girl singer arrangements, and an amazing cover of "You Really Got a Hold of Me" have made this album a quick fave on my ipod.

I also purchased an old album of chansons by Mme Sarkozy, Carla Bruni. Meghan at work recommended it to me. Seems we both love dreamy French music (see Keren Ann, Monade, Stereolab, et al). Quelqu'un M'a Dit makes an oddly good pairing with She & Him. Of course, I strive to complicate the iTunes store's recommendations algorithm. Really, how do you make predictions for someone who buys folk, trip hop, and French pop?

Communication is key

Sorry for the blog hiatus. I've been having problems with my DSL, which has put me in a foul mood lately. Doesn't the phone company know that I need to devote at least an hour a day to looking at lolcats and Ravelry? I thought that I'd solved the problem at the beginning of the week. Someone had tripped over the phone line to the modem and pulled it out of the wall. Problem solved, right? No, this was a two part problem. The modem had to be reset as well. Apparently, my modem is like a flashbulb, because it can only be reset so many times. The tech service rep told me that I have only one more reset. So that modem better be on its best behavior!

My cell phone has been acting up, too. The battery hasn't been holding a charge. Also, the phone has decided to constantly take pictures of the inside of my pocket. That may or may not be related to the weak battery. Fed up, I called my phone company and sweet talked them into giving me a new phone. Then I waited and waited for it to come in the mail. I'm not the most patient person about mail order, so this just added to my aggravation. I made a couple of phone calls and discovered that the phone company sent my new phone to the wrong address. They sent it to an address that doesn't exist and were about to return it to the sender when I called. Sigh. I have the new phone now and it is highly excellent. My mom even gave me a bluetooth earpiece to go with it, so I can rock out like Uhura. So if you see me walking down the street talking to myself, it's the phone, not craziness. Probably.

I went to the opera last night to see Eugene Onegin. It had a bit of a slow start, like a Russian novel, and a stark set, but I eventually got into it. One of our customers at the LYS is in it, so I was excited to see her. I was also a bit surprised. Poor Catherine. She's such a lovely, vivacious person and they gave her old age makeup, an awful wig, and a costume that looked upholstered. I'm so glad that I went to see her recital at the cultural center this week. She wore a gorgeous ombre dyed devore velvet flowing jacket that suited her perfectly and sung art songs. She also sang the "Out Damned Spot" aria from Macbeth, which was absolutely incredible.

On the knitting front, I have so many WIPs now that I may never finish any of them. It's too crazy. To say that I've come down with startitis is an understatement. Fortunately, several of the projects are small ones, so I may be able to finish a couple of them and return to the everlasting Malabrigo project with a bit of confidence.