small hands

The crafting never stops

2011-05-19T00:36:00.001-05:00

Just because I'm a lousy knit-blogger these days, doesn't mean I'm not still knitting and such.

Lately, it seems I'm only capable of knitting in a sagey medium green range. It's a good color for
me but the next sweater will be blue or purple.

DONE: (Fried Green) Tomato
Stats will have to come later, but it's made from Manos cotton.

WIP: Cassandra crocheted shawl
I'm using one skein of STR and one skein from a long past MDSW (will I ever get back to one? Will I get to hang with Lara, Carrie, AM, and Jenna EVER?! AGAIN?!)

All the good stuff's happening over at the Enchilada these days, but haven't forgotten this place and I haven't forgotten my readers, both of you: ¡Besos!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Finished Object: Summery shell by Jo Sharp

2010-09-15T11:28:00.001-05:00

Wow. Only, what like... 5 years since this yarn and pattern went into the stash? Here she is, complete, and in the wild!

Forgive the terrible work pics, it was too dark in my place last night.

Pattern: Jo Sharp Chaise from Holiday Island. (Ravelry)
Yarn: Jo Sharp Soho Summer DK cotton in sage green, 6
Size: to fit 37" bust
Needles: US 6s & 4s
Mods: None

What I loved
Very little. This was sort of a labor of want from start to finish. While I look terrible in vests, I like how I look in tanks. My Jems and the cabled shell from years ago are way too big any more and I finally had a bust size that would fit into the largest size (clearly written with more positive ease than I need) so I wanted to make it. The cotton is tiring, the pattern is excruciatingly boring. But I do like the finished object. The finishing technique on the keyhole and armscyes seems to be sturdy enough that they won't sag, so I've mentally filed it away for later.

What I would do differently
She only gives a single stitch count for picking up stitches on the neckline and armscyes for all sizes. There were not enough stitches, so I feel like the neck ruffle isn't quite ruffly enough (though it sags in the back). I added stitches to keep the arms from puckering. It's a bit short, but as I am into layering, this is ok. I will also lose 10 pounds before any more pictures are taken of me. Thanks, summer for being too hot to run in. Over all, I am pleased.

one Versatile Little Accessory

2010-09-07T14:56:00.000-05:00

I have a small group of test knitters working out the kinks in this one, and it should be available soon.

Here is version one:

The sleeves are shorter, as is the waist ribbing and the neck edging is one row narrower, giving a "saucy" silhouette.

Version two:

Longer sleeves, and deeper ribbing all around makes this one more "office friendly." (Also, I will be cleaning that mirror very soon.)

The VLA (which also stands for "Very Large Array"--the radio telescope that she's named after) is knit at a gauge of 3.5 stitches / inch. The first size medium was knit with three hanks of Colinette Skye, and the second, 6 balls of Rowan Kid Classic (held double). The pattern sizing will be XS - 2X. She's a top-down, try as you go, no-seaming number. Uses one or two cute buttons.

Let me know what you think!

In other news I finished my astronomy class, so the bus knitting has been renewed in earnest. Sock number one is almost done, and number two is done past the heel:

coffeeshop knitting, and pattern writing is hard

2010-08-24T00:11:00.000-05:00

I just sent out a draft of the VLA to my test knitters. It took me all day to do all of the maths fifteen times to get it to work out. My fingers are crossed that my friends don't have too much trouble. I am still planning a little photo shoot, at which point I will post some teaser pics and start the pattern in Rav. Is it ridiculous that I am getting excited to have a pattern up there for sale?

In other news, I am SO close on the Jo Sharp. I really want it off the needles already, there are many other things clamoring to get on them!

Only about 2 inches of back to go, plus the ruffled neckline... This was taken at my Monday night knit in. It's at this excellent coffeeshop near my house. Sadly, there are still not any other knitters. On Monday nights, I really miss Austin.

On being a writer and some knitting, too

2010-08-22T00:20:00.000-05:00

I'm doing a 365 project over on Transatlantic Enchilada, and so will be spending most of my time there, I imagine. But I am still knitting and working on my newest patterns. This one will hopefully be up for sale at Ravelry in the next month. Here's a hint:

I have four test knitters so far, and will hopefully have a draft to them by next week.

The sedimentary scarf is also progressing nicely. The Jo Sharp shell is stalled, but should get some love this weekend.

How badly do you want it?

2010-08-13T17:00:00.001-05:00

That's this week's mantra as I struggle with time management issues.

I have some knitting and some pattern writing that I am pretty fired up to finish (anyone wanna test knit a boobalicious shrug? 16x22 gauge?), some essay writing that needs to be writ, the dread Statement of Purpose to draft, and a short story competition to get embroiled in. Add to that wanting to make up for my lack of running on account of EXTREME HEAT in the never ending oven that is the Phoenix summer and lack of yoga on account of brokeness, and I am feeling like there is too much to do in my little non-work time.

The answer is getting up earlier than I do. I mean, not the answer to all of it, but that's where I can find at least one extra hour each day. So, how badly do I want these things? Badly enough to drag my dream lovin' lazy ass out of bed extra early each day, or not quite that much?

I'll let you know next week.

My Newest Byline and a soon to be neckline...

2010-08-10T17:27:00.000-05:00

I have a piece up on McSweeney's!

An Objective Look at My 7 Grad School Rejections

In other news, I am starting the process for this year's apps.

Knitwise I am rounding the bend on my Jo Sharp summer tank. I have a few inches of back and a ruffly neckline left.

I was first inspired to knit this when I saw a floor sample at Knit Happens in Arlington, VA. It has only been a few years, but it feels like decades ago. My life was so different back then. And I miss hanging out with Rossana, Holly, and Erika...

The pattern is Chaise from Jo Sharp's Holiday Island collection. I'm using her Soho Summer dk cotton in a sagey green that everyone always says makes my eyes look great. Who doesn't love to hear such things?

I was nearly done with the thing last summer when I found that the back shoulders did not in fact meet up with the fronts. One side was taller than the other. Turns out I had thrown in an extra short row half way down. Into the corner the whole thing went to wait out the winter and learn better behavior. I'm sort of rushing the ending because I really really want to make a Cece next.

Roadtrip knitting

2010-08-07T22:03:00.000-05:00

First, some housekeeping: I have had to turn on comment moderation after a bunch of crazy non-English comments. Sorry, y'all. Hopefully after awhile I will be off their radar and can turn it back off.

I just got back from a 5 day roadtrip with JFC. We made a big AZ-NM loop and hit a couple of hotsprings and a couple of astronomy-related sites along the way (I am taking astronomy this semester--because I am insane).

En route, I finished two knitting projects and today, I started one with some souvenir yarn. I know I haven't covered much knitting lately--surely why I am down to only two readers--but maybe this is a sign of more knitting to come!

The first project I finished is a secret, as it is a pattern I made up that I hope to put up for sale on Ravelry in the next few weeks. If you are interested in test knitting a top down shrug (approx 375-500yds, heavy worsted gauge) let me know. Otherwise, stay tuned.

The second project I finished was Summer Flies shawlette by Holly and Ella Knits. The little shawl/scarf got blocked last night, and here she is reclining by the pool:

I used Socks That Rock in Sandstone (which was chosen partly because of how well it would coordinate with my trip through the desert). It was a pretty quick knit (two days of riding), though the last 7 rows plus the picot bind off were a tiny bit demoralizing. They were worth it for the cute lil ruffle they made.

Here's the shawlette view:

And the way more likely way I will be wearing it view:

While in Santa Fe, I stopped at the very first yarn shop I ever frequented, The Needle's Eye. My friend Sarah Rae (who helped me figure out my knitting how-to book) and I used to refer to the proprietress and her staff as the "Mean Knitting Ladies," and I was always afraid to go in alone. They were the usual surly types that one finds (or presumes to find) in such little shops. But I am pleased to report that the woman working when I went in last week was very kind, helpful, and accommodating. Was this because I told her I first visited not even knowing how to knit and now I was a designer in two of the books on her shelves? Maybe. Maybe the economy or the years have just soften the folks in Santa Fe.

I wanted to find cotton/elastic sock yarn but they were almost completely sock-yarm-less. Instead, I picked up this unusual looking stuff that was in the sandstone/desert palette that I'd been traveling.

It is a cotton/poly blend that is spun with multicolored fluffs of different fibers--almost like a cottony version of that yarn from sari silk, in a finer gauge. As I have started to knit it up (no give to speak of, but lovely drape) it's showing some really nice subtle striping.

The pattern is a repeat of yarn overs mixed with garter and stockinette. I wanted to show off the variegation in the fiber and play to its drape. I got three balls, if the scarf can be finished in two, I may try to pull off a floppy beanie with the last ball. I'll post the scarf pattern here once it's complete.

I have been slacking on my Amazon links, so here are some inspired by or experienced on, the trip:

Trout fishing all over the place

2010-07-16T13:28:00.000-05:00

"Finding is losing something else. I think about, perhaps even mourn, what I lost to find this." ~Richard Brautigan

I apologize if the nature of this blog is no longer knitterly enough--more than ever I feel that these notes are out into a void--but I am really liking this whole inspired-by-a-quote method of prompts. Also, over at Transatlantic Enchilada, I have posted a couple of new "losers" from last year.

Speaking of last year, it really felt like I lost a lot while I was in it. I have to remember to include the factor of perception, since, in a grander scheme (even from just a slightly elevated viewpoint) I still had a roof over my head, a car to drive to my job, food to eat, and a very charming gentleman caller to take me out on dates. But I did lose my unemployment (and with it, the chance to keep going to school for another semester), my place in Austin, and ultimately my -first- chance at grad school. I also lost several writing competitions and lotteries. It seems like last January was a lifetime ago, while last July just a few months back.

I have been in Arizona almost exactly a year. And I have discovered a lot--about writing, about birds and stars, about being in love, about patience. I lost some material things, some of my optimism, and the certainty of my direction while I found new sources of inspiration, new gray hairs, and expressive paragraphs. I'd have to say that while it has been a difficult exchange, it would be wrong of me to call it unfair.

My over-developed wishbone

2010-07-14T13:36:00.000-05:00

"Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be." ~ Clementine Paddleford

First and foremost, let us rejoice that such an amazing name exists to be rolled across one's tongue. Clementine! Paddleford! How could she possibly have been a boring woman? She couldn't, and wasn't. I wrote up a little post about her over at my day job: http://wholefoodsmarket.com/storesbeta/scottsdale (it will be up on Friday).

In thinking about the quote above, though, it occurs to me that I have indeed grown a wildly scoliotic wishbone. My wishes have twisted around my spine like kudzu, taking the place of muscle and nerve. And so these muscles these nerves, little used, atrophy. I wake up some days full of ideas yet go to bed scared and unaccomplished. Every small success seems to come with two failures these days, and I become terrified to try anything.

There was a time when things were stressful and stretched in a different way; when at least the day to day expenses of living were taken care of, and it was only my mind that was wasting away. Now my mind, over alert, is wasted for four hours on the bus each day. Trying to read or knit amid the elbows and knees of the summer working classes becomes a battle of mind over nose. There are treatises and essays I'd like to write, if only my car would stop breaking and just ONE piece of real writing would make a buck, so I could take a day off to do it.

Regardless. The writing continues. One of my older essays, after much brutal (though necessary) cropping, has been accepted by Sea Stories. I am totally stoked, as I tried to get into this journal over a year ago, just before they lost funding and went dark. They are back up, and I am among some really accomplished writers and artists. Check it out: http://seastories.org/category/overfalls/

And for fun, I wrote up some drinks recipes with the help of a local bar over at Venuszine: Red, White, and Blueberries (it's not the 4th, but bloody marys are always in season).

As does the knitting. I pulled my Jo Sharp tank back out of the corner. It was being punished for bad behavior, also known as "unintentional and random short-rowing". I pulled back two balls of yarn (and 10 inches!) and have gotten nearly back to where I started. Pictures? I am not that organized, still, in the new place--but some high speed internet I can't possibly afford will be up on Thursday, so hope abounds amid the crushing heat, broken auto parts, and leftovers AGAIN.

As the caterpillar said to Alice, "Whooooo Are Youuuuuu?"

2010-06-30T13:19:00.000-05:00

Often people attempt to live their lives backwards - they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want so they will be happier.

The way it actually works is the reverse.You must first be who you really are ...then do what you need to do in order to have what you want.

The above is a quote by Margaret Young, who was a dreamy-eyed flapper girl in the 20s, if her Facebook page is any indication. She seems to be remembered only for this quote, and I can't find any context for her having said it. Was it in her liner notes? Did she pop off with it during her stand-up routine?

I wonder how she felt about her own life in relation to her famous quote. She lived long, and stayed unmarried it seems, though I can't make any assumptions about the impact of that on her happiness. As an aside: I totally want to assume away, though. I am completely programmed to pity poor, old maid Maggie. When maybe she had dozens of lovers and was so happy she could hardly walk most days... I mean, who knows? Regardless, there doesn't appear to be any collected writings, so I'll likely never know.

And-so, it's just a simple platitude. It's the sort of schmaltzy Hallmark sentiment that concludes the emails of many a grandmother, not to mention secretaries, massage therapists, and that aunt everyone refers to as a "free spirit" (not unlike Maggie, I bet). These sentiments are just fillers. We aren't meant to actually READ them, yet this one has stuck in my throat.

I've been thinking a lot about what I want vs. what I think I deserve vs. what the universe will let me have. There was a time when I had access to credit that could buy me whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it--because my wants were Tshirts, CDs, an occasional trip, all the yarn I ever saw. Now, because of that folly, I have a mountain of debt and nothing to do but wait til my small contributions whittle it down. I have to want much less to keep from feeling deprived. I have to choose BETWEEN a bike lock and a curtain rod until my next check. Trying to take joy in a bike ride, when I could once order up a cruise, is hard.

Not that it is pitiable, by ANY stretch. Talking about wanting stuff I can't have isn't a plea for donations or gentle pats on the shoulder. As J. Alfred's girl once said, "That's not what I meant at all." There are many people much worse off than me right now. I get that, and I get that this is good for me--I am just observing the phenomenon.

And I am observing it, because there seem to be a lot of other people in this position of wanting, and the recent crumbling of the economy has taken away all the credit we used to use to satisfy those wants. It's not just about stuff, either. Food used to be something that some people could afford, and others couldn't. Rather than using credit to close the gap, we are using low quality food made from genetically modified corn and soy to provide cheaper and cheaper versions of the food that "everyone" eats so that the poor don't have to suffer as much through their poverty. I can buy an all-angus beef burger at a restaurant for $7 or more, or go to McDuds and pay 99 cents... for something that resembles beef, but has nowhere near the levels of protein (28g vs 12g) or iron (20% vs 15%).

On a recent blog post where a writer wrote glowing praise of a factory pig farm (after being paid by the pork industry to do so) she justified factory farming by saying that not everyone can afford $12/lb pork that is raised humanely. A commenter replied, that if they can't afford it, maybe they shouldn't eat it. Her response? "People don't like being told what they can eat."

If I understand this line of thinking, since I want bacon (and who in their right mind doesn't?!), the economy OWES me bacon I can afford. And if all I can pay is 99 cents a pound, then by God, jam those pigs in as tight as possible and pump them full of all the antibiotics you need to, and screw the ecology of towns in the midwest that are literally being flooded by pigshit. Because I deserve bacon.

And I deserve fancy running shoes that correct my SLIGHT pronation and don't cost an arm and a leg, so get those kids who live in some country I can't even spell to stitching.

And if anyone can have a big screen TV, then where the hell's mine? Send out another credit card, and figure out how to make it work. 'Cause I want it now.

I don't have any answers, just a lot of different thoughts about wanting and the state of things and how much I contribute to or against the problem. I mean, is this the beginning of the end of this empire? When our individual wants have finally superceded the needs of everyone to such a degree that we destroy not just our financial systems, but our food supply, housing markets, and environment all to get it? It doesn't happen in one oil spill or one auto maker's bankruptcy, but in a million little decisions to have or have not that all of us are making every single day.

Hope Summers Eternal

2010-06-22T11:27:00.000-05:00

What a difference a view makes.

Granted, the view may still be more "boxy" than I'd like; I have a mountain of stuff I don't really need; and not having an internet connection at home for the first time in... 10 years? is a bit rough.

But, I cook my own meals with my own food and I go for powerwalks with JFC and hit up the library and coffeeshop when necessary. There is even supposed to be a knitting meet up a few blocks away, but I am not sure if it is canceled for summer--I seem to keep missing the knitters. [Still need a buyer for my Lendrum, if you know of anyone local to Phoenix--I've posted to the local board on ravelry and a CL post is forthcoming.]

I'm actually working on a new essay. And next year's applications are in the brainstorm pile.

Also, the hush hush writing project from the Spring is finally in print: Venuszine: Girl's Guide to BBQ The print version is supposedly lovely, three pages with pics, but I haven't found a copy yet. If you see one, let me know how it looks!

The mood, as they say, has shifted (with the sun). Here are a couple of pictures from yesterday's solstice at the Central Library. The top floor was designed specifically for solar noon on the summer solstice: the side walls light up and the candlestick columns get direct light from above, causing them to glow (like candles).

Quote from the architect "This isn't Indiana Jones, there's no light
hitting a crystal to open a door, just the subtle beauty of light
moving through a space."

A. Just barely

2010-06-09T15:57:00.000-05:00

Q. How does a 17' truck fit into a 550 sq ft space?

There will be purging. (Any wannabe spinners out there?) In the meantime, there is cooking and reading and (hopefully soon) writing and no TV and it's mine.

As I watch my car being towed away

2010-05-25T11:20:00.000-05:00

... It occurs to me that, clearly, I am doing this wrong. I am supposed to be glad that it overheated when I had some money to throw at it, glad that it happened before I moved out and had a million little things like dustpans and coffee filters and a bathroom rug to worry about. I am supposed to be thinking positive, that maybe its just the water pump and not the head gasket.

But I'm not. All I can think about is that the goddamn money was supposed to get me out of this house. It's almost my 37th birthday, and I can't go somewhere nice for the night. All I can think about is how the universe already HAS my good job and my house and my optimism and one of my cats, why does it need my car and freedom, too? The editors finally all write back, "no;" my clothes don't fit; the lousy cat I have left is going completely crazy in house where he's not welcome.

What do I need to do? I know I have flaws; I have done some crummy things in my 36.999 years on this Earth. I'm selfish and I hold on to resentment (obv). But I have tried to be generous with what I have. I always thought that I had potential to do great things.I just had to get past "this one obstacle."

Whether it was finishing a degree, getting out of a bad marriage, or relationship, moving across the country, changing from a crappy job--there was always something to deal with first. Now it it starts to become clear: there is no way out. Like the dream hallway that stretches on and on no matter how fast you dream-run. Just as I see some light, another stone is dropped into the gap. There will always be obstacles and I can either spend my life clawing for air or doing something else. Am I supposed to love this empty hallway? Love the stones and forget what I wanted on the other side? Maybe I am meant to work in a grocery store and live with my parents forever. I always thought that everything works out. Maybe it did, and this is as good as it gets for me.

It's just that I can't see how can that possibly be enlightenment.

The thing is

2010-05-21T09:52:00.000-05:00

I can't write. There are ideas in my head, but when I sit down to the laptop, they freeze up. Whole monologues rage through my head all day, while I am organizing Earth shoes by size on the sales floor, or sitting in traffic for hours with quite possibly the shittiest, nastiest, most dangerous drivers I have ever encountered. During the walk from the busstop, I rework a paragraph that I have reworked every walk home from the busstop. I get home. I go to my room--with it's piles of clothes on clothes on books on shoes, with the three small pieces of floor that allow me only to stand in front of the bed, in front of the dresser, in front of the door, the only place to sit, the bed, and through the vents, the TV downstairs is blasting American Idol or Survivor or Amazing Race. And then everything just retracts. Like a turtle into a shell, all of the words are gone. There is no escaping the loud, jangly, awful noise of the television in this house. The frigid blast of the AC. There is nowhere quiet to go and gather one's thoughts. I sit dumbly in front of the keyboard or the notebook and before the tears come (AGAIN) I just give in and go turn another TV on. Sometimes I pack it all up and go somewhere else to write. The closest coffeeshop is 8 miles away, and is occasionally quiet. The library, near the freeway, is rarely quiet, but I've tried there. It is quiet right now in the house, the only time until 10 at night.

For two months every single dollar I could spare has gone to pay off my car so I could try to get an apartment. (It won't stop all of the anxiety attacks, but at least I will be able to have them without having to (not) tell my mother what the matter is every time. How do you say, thank you so much for your hospitality but it is killing me slowly?) I still had about two months of payments, and I was trying to breathe through that tightness. I am so thankful for this roof over my head. I am so thankful for this roof over my head.

All that was left was to figure out the damage on my taxes. She helped me figure out 2008--I had always been too afraid, what with the huge severance, cashing in the 401k, untaxed unemployment... It was this monolith in the back of my mind, and I was sure there were stories and poems and essays behind it. We put it all in the computer... And it spit out a refund. Enough to pay off the car. I still don't belive it, and won't until the deposit shows up in my account. But, the letting up of the tightness. I stayed up until 2 am doing 2009, afraid it would eat up the windfall. It didn't. The small wavering flicker of hope!

I called an apartment I had talked to that had been just slightly more than my budget would allow. Everything available right now is either way too sketchy or too expensive. I toured the place--it was old (and not in a good way) but there was a pool, two treadmills and a weight machine. The manager seemed nice. It had a gas stove, it was near Bikram and a knitting meetup and a coffee shop I like (and, most importantly, much closer to someone I would like to be much closer to). Without a car payment, I could do it. It would be a snug fit, but I could cook, do yoga, take bubble baths again. It would be so worth it. I dropped a deposit and then allowed myself some optimism. I planned a writing, studying, and workout schedule. I rearranged the furniture in my mind.

When it came time to get a background check and sign the lease, the son of the manager and I joked around. We swapped nightmare tenant stories. He told me about why there was a clause stating "no windows shall be covered by foil or anyother reflective materials." I told him about the guy with a million animals in my old house. And then he handed me the lease. The rent was over $100 more than what I had been told. I stammered, I explained. The son freaked out, called his dad, who said he never would have told me the wrong price. This tightness in my stomach, started to implode upon itself, getting tighter and harder, pulling my guts into it. There was no way I could afford the new rent, and for it, I have seen much better so far. He said to call if my economic situtation changed, and I said the same to him. The tightness floated up to my throat and started to expand, a supernova and I raced to my car, shut the door and just bawled. Big, ugly barking sobs. I tried to choke out the tightness, cry through it. Please-dont-let-anyone-see-me-and-want-to-help sobs. I sat there for several minutes before heading back to my parents. To my room. Where the editors don't return my emails, the journals send no-thank-yous, and where I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I'm doing anymore.

Psyche!

2010-05-19T21:03:00.001-05:00

The universe was just kidding. I'm still stuck where I am in every possible way.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Bones

2010-05-18T03:07:00.001-05:00

Karma seems to have come through. I just put a deposit down on an apartment... I may be moving in for my birthday. Hopefully this isn't a big old jinx, but it seemed important to set a goal:

Thirteen months of deep breathing, hard writing, and no whining.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Countdown to everything else continues

2010-05-12T10:24:00.001-05:00

I just wrote a big crybaby rant about my home life. Then I accidentally deleted it and decided that I'm a bit too "older than 15" to rewrite it.

I am trying. I really am. It wouldn't kill you, karma, to throw me a goddamn bone.

OK, it's an ad... but an ad for me at least

2010-05-01T14:58:00.000-05:00

I am just starting to do some Demand Studios freelance work, and my first piece is up!

How to Get a Beginning as a Story Writer

I have other eHow articles up, but the new Demand platform includes copyeditors, styleguides, and strict standards. Hopefully this will vastly improve the quality of writing on eHow and other "answer" sites.

Anyway, I get paid if folks read the article, so take a look and pass it along to anyone who might find it useful. (And let me know what you think, natch.)

All over but for buttons

2010-04-28T20:29:00.001-05:00

Still might be the ugliest ever...

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Bus riding zen

2010-04-16T10:55:00.000-05:00

First, a confession: I don't really know what zen is. What I imagine of zen leads me to believe that I am about as un-zen as a methamphetamine pill or a mountain of unnecessary paperwork or even, just an unmade bed.

There is a part of me that longs for what I imagine zen to be: calm, clarity, focus. I crave this thing, not because I have had a taste and want more, but because the descriptions of its flavor make my mouth water. My mind bounces around, unfocused and frantic. This helps me to learn quickly, take in whole personalities in a few exchanged words, grok "big pictures" from just a few glimpses at parts, but it never lets me rest. I know content only in the few moments between sleep and waking--and I try to make that moment last hours by waking up in the most begrudging of ways. At least that is the only contentedness that I will discuss here (she smirked, knowingly).

However, not knowing doesn't preclude trying. Intellectually I understand some of the principles of centering and focusing the mind. One of the few ways that I have ever been able to successfully meditate is in Bikram yoga class: the 90 minute, open-eyed meditation. My fluttering chatter brain has to concentrate during every minute (except the blissful, wandery 2 minutes of savasana, between the standing and back bending series). Between the balancing and the exertion and the breath, I don't have time to think about how I really should have a better handle on my finances, or why do I eat junk food so predictably when I am stressed out, and what is it that scares me about really, deeply connecting to other people. These things and more start swirling around whenever I try to sit and clear my mind.

Knitting is nowhere near the meditation that Bikram is, but thanks to my ever bountiful stash (do not be ashamed of your stashes! you are saving for a rainy day or year or era) it is much more free than Bikram.

I just finished two really wonderful books, which I plan on reviewing over on goodreads soon. The People of Paper followed very closely behind I Don't Care About Your Band: What I Learned from Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, and Other Guys I've Dated. The stack of books I want to read is very tall, and my tendency is to try to devour it like one of those epic Cheesecake Factory slices of creamy goodness. But that isn't enjoyment. Books should be nibbled at and savored like a fancy cheese plate shared with friends. So I am taking a break for a couple of days. I will still read, but will hold off on diving headfirst into another book.

Knitting is my break, and today on the bus, I started orange sock number two.

I cast on at the bus stop, and had this by the time I sat down.

Almost finished the toe by the time I got to work.

Knitting focuses me, I dive into the stitches like they are prose. I feel a sense of accomplishment and of competency when knitting, that to be honest, is eluding me nearly everywhere else in my life these days. That may be miles from zen, but at least I can see the tip of zen's tower from here.

An exercise from a book about break ups

2010-04-15T09:38:00.001-05:00

I miss my old job. I miss being able to work a schedule of my choosing, and being able to define how my time is spent. I miss working so close to my house. I miss traveling and being able to afford yoga or running group. I miss having some time to do the things I love.

I do not miss my old job. I am glad I don't have to sit through three hours of teleconferences everyday. I don't miss the culture of CYA that pervades IT departments. I do not miss working for hypocrites and feeling stuck in a job that gives me no personal satisfaction. I don't miss being so wiped out from a week of work that I only have the mental energy to get drunk and sleep in by the time the weekend rolls around.

It is important to try to remember the whole truth.

In knitting news, I am almost done with the knitting on my maybe ugly sweater! Only 50 rows to go.

-- Post From My iPhone

connecting

2010-04-14T11:37:00.000-05:00

How to connect? to space, place, people, plans.

These are things I am thinking about lately. I have very little discipline or satisfaction in my life--I don't think the two are unrelated phenomena. The things that bring me the most happiness are reaching goals that I have set for myself, and yet I let many goals go unset or if set, unmet. Why this commitment to dissatisfaction and unhappiness? Do I think it is more interesting to be unfulfilled?

some days are just title free

2010-04-13T10:38:00.000-05:00

I have been doing a bit more cooking in the last week or so. I made a great pasta salad, and cooked dinner for JFC last night (salmon and spinach and couscous, oh my!) and it really makes me want my own space.

But, I am not sure I can afford to take a class at ASU in the fall and move out on my own.

Already, I am stressing out about applications for next year. There is only one professor that I feel comfortable asking for a second time. And every source says there should definitely be two college professors in one's recommendation stack. Last year I asked a woman who didn't know me that well as a result. I can't believe that it's not more important for it to be people familiar with my work and communication habits... How can I get professors to vouch for me if I can't afford to go to school?

If I stay at my parents for much longer, it might just strain too many relationships too much. But, then am I risking another year of rejection if I don't get into a good class at ASU?

Some writing work has been happening. I managed to talk my employer into letting me blog for part of one shift each week. You can read me here: Whole Foods Market: Scottsdale store blog. The other one is still going to stay under wraps until it feels a bit less jinxable.

Also, knitting! Actual knitting has occurred. I am nearly done with the knitting on my vine yoke cardigan. It just might be the ugliest sweater ever* but we'll see!

*My version, I mean. Ysolda's is lovely!

Hitting and how it feels

2010-04-09T15:14:00.001-05:00

I have been reading McSweeney's Internet Tendency regularly for the last month or so. (In my top 10 favorite apps, for sure.) There are regular columns mixed in with random occurrances. One of the regulars is called Bitchslap: a column about women and fighting. The author, Susan Schorn, teaches martial arts in Austin, TX (wish I'd known about her when I lived there).

Her latest column talks about pacifism and violence and in it, she talks about the intoxication that comes from getting what you want using violence. Almost at the end, she says

"If you want something to be afraid of, forget about anthrax, snipers, and people with bombs in their underwear. Hit somebody when you're mad at them, and see how you feel. That'll keep you up nights."

I did once, and it did.

I graduated college in May of 1995. I was 22 and had been living with my boyfriend for about 6 months. We bickered constantly. He was a cook and would stay after hours at the restaurant and drive home drunk--I would yell about his irresponsibility. During those last few years at school I started what would become a lifelong habit of crying for no comprehensible reason, sometimes for a day or two at a time--and this infuriated him, he would storm out and I would cry all the harder. Since things were going so well, we decided to get married two months later.

Things are always more clear in the rearview. What you called "worrisome" in the moment becomes "practically hilarious in its obvious portentiousness of DOOM" fifteen years later. This is the curse of maturity, that everything fun you did as a kid becomes a dumb thing you are lucky didn't kill you.

It is easy to say now, how dumb it was, but at the time, we were madly in love. We clung to each other as though clinging might save us (apologies to Galway Kinnell). We had plans--romantic visions of travel and adventure. We decided to move to New Orleans, where I would learn to bellydance and sell my paintings on the sidewalk until a gallery snatched me up and he would pick up fencing and work for one of the best chefs in the country. How could such a perfect plan possibly fail?

My first job was at a Tower Records. I made $4.85 an hour, which meant some weeks, having to spend my silver dollar collection in the bus fare-box. But sifting up through the misery of being beyond broke was New Orleans! We ate po'boys and fended off roaches of legendary size and cunning. We learned about the amazing thing that happens in the middle of summer, in a hot crowded club, when the brass band marches in and up on the stage. Me, the oh-so-white girl from practically the SUBURBS of what must be in the top ten whitest towns in the US, learned how to shake it til I almost broke it.

And yet, in New Orleans, it is OK to be a drunk. And my husband, though still a novice, was well on his way to levelling up. The first time he stayed out all night, I woke up at 7:30 am in a panic. I immediately burst into tears after a search of the house and yard failed to produce his body. (He had passed out on the porch once, and once on the kitchen floor, so a thourough search was always needed.) I paced. Smoked. Then called my mom. I asked her what I was supposed to do. Call the hospital? The 3rd floor at Mercy (where the city often stashed destitute nutcases)? Wait more?

He finally called around 9 am, having passed out on a coworker's living room floor after forgetting to get off the (last) streetcar at his stop.

The second time he never came home, I didn't call my mom or anyone else. I was so humiliated that my marriage was in such shambles. There were nights where if someone had called looking for him, I'd have no idea what to tell them.

We were young. Lots of kids drink all the time. When we met, I drank all the time, too--except, not with the same passion and commitment that he brought to the venture. There are many embarrassing stories from those years in New Orleans. He would laugh recounting the various places that he had passed out. And I would get angrier and angrier through my complicit grin.

The thing is, he always said he was coming straight home. Every night, he would call around 10 and say something along the lines of, 'I'll be off in 30, I am going to have one beer and then head home.' Then, once I learned to sleep through his lack of appearance, I would be awakened sometime between 2 and 5 am by his stumbling mumbling figure ricocheting off of the living room furniture in the front room. Every night, I would plead that he really come home this time. Really. Please. And every time he didn't I would be more and more pissed.

Oh that damned rearview. But I didn't know how else to stop it, but to plead and reason and cajole and then punish when he didn't change. Maybe I pretended that I could feel the wall I was hitting my head against cracking. Once, during a particularly long fight about how his drinking sucked and my being mad all the time sucked, he said, "Well, maybe if there was something worth coming home to, I would."

I will never forget how that made me feel. People have said many hurtful things to me over the years, and I have said things in the hopes that they cut to the core in the worst way. But when your only friend for thousands of miles tells you that your company isn't worth sharing... It kills something in a permanent sort of way. And it wasn't too long after that that I hit him.

He had come home late, as was the routine, and I was screaming about his inconsiderate and apathetic spousal behavior. He rolled his eyes, threw himself along the length of the couch, arm over his eyes and said, "Look, why don't you just tell me when you're done so I can get some rest?" I raced to the couch, my intention to move his arm so that he would have to look me in the eye if he wanted to be so dismissive. But once I crossed the room, he moved his arm and eyes wide, flinched hard. In half a second I thought something along the lines of 'did you think I would hit you? because you know you deserve to get your ass kicked for being such a jerk? god I wish someone would kick your ass, you jerk.' And I pulled my fist back and punched him in the arm.

I was never beaten by my parents or by bullies. I have never been in a fist fight. I have no muscle memory for how to give or take a beating. My punch failed to really make its target, my fist sort of slid off of him, into the cushion. There was no bruise, but we both knew I had wanted there to be one. We both knew that I wanted to punch him into a pulp. I wanted him to cower and be afraid of me. I wanted to have enough power to make him do what I wanted. I wanted him to want to come home (to me). I backed away, arms up. Terrified at how badly I wanted to keep hitting him. I began to blubber tearful apologies.

Even drunk, he knew the upper hand when it punched him in the arm. He didn't accept my apology. He told me I should calm the hell down and just go to bed. I was so freaked out that I hung my head and slunk off to bed, like the violent abuser I had suddenly become deserved.

It made me sick and, in my sickness, afraid to confront to his selfishness and irresponsibility. He would occassionally bring it up, because he knew I would have a retort for exactly anything else but that. He knew I would be scared out of whatever argument we were in. And it worked. I started objecting less to his drunk driving, his late nights with no call. I started caring less too, and within a couple of years I cared so little that one night, I told him I was done bothering with him at all. That night, I just walked out of the house, didn't say where I was going and didn't come back til the next day. He wanted to ask, but didn't dare. We split up with little fanfare a week later and I mailed him divorce papers from Texas a few months after that.

I would like to think that I acquired a fear of how hitting feels that night: through all the jerks of varying levels I have dated, not a one has ever even raised a hand, and neither have I. But, I've stayed unmarried too, just in case.

Briefest of reviews

2010-04-02T01:27:00.001-05:00

Saw the movie Tapped tonight. I had mixed opinions. There are four main arguments used by the filmaker to demonize bottled water:

Huge corporations are stealing water from small towns
The idea that it's "better" than tap water is all marketing
There are toxic chemicals involved in plastic bottle production
The abundance of all the plastic bottles is having an environmental impact

The first argument was pretty sensationalized, for someone complaining about spin.

The second argument used fuzzy logic and marginalized very real issues around the safety of tap water.

We were the most freaked out and creeped out by the third argument. Bisphenol-A is the new DDT.

The close was a bit anticlimactic, though the science felt much closer to being objective.

All in all, a good flick with a nice indie-style soundtrack and mostly tight and polished production.

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Math

2010-03-31T02:16:00.001-05:00

When I came home from work, sick and tired, I wanted chocolate.

To be good, I had an ok dinner.

I really wanted chocolate.

For a treat, I had a coupla corn chips with cheese (damn I love cheese).

But, it wasn't chocolate.

A handful of pumpkin seeds (good job!) and raisins (so healthy).

And yet... I'm about to have chocolate anyway, cause I think I might crawl out of my skin if I don't.

How many goods does it take til you're bad?

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And then there were none

2010-03-29T14:35:00.001-05:00

Time for plan B, I guess.

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Some things I learned on Wednesday

2010-03-25T11:36:00.002-05:00

In no particular order:

Boxed mac n cheese is just as tasty made with coconut milk. But use real butter.
Women who grill rock. Details to follow.
It must really suck being a bright-eyed newly graduated kid entering this work force.
Attitude is everything.
The right company is second only to attitude.
Reading a lot is second only to regular exercise for "getting my head" straighter.
I really like writing.

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The weekends make the week bearable

2010-03-22T11:53:00.000-05:00

Still no word from the last three schools, or from the two competitions I have entered recently.

I am starting to look a little bit forward to being stuck here for the next year. Once it's a sure thing, I will be able to look for a small apartment. My sentimental attachment to all of my stuff is maybe worth examining, but until then... I miss all of my books. I miss my wheel. I miss my stash and my coffee cups. I miss my big dusty floor pillow. I miss my knitting chair and my blue lamp. I miss having a few plants around and I miss being able to make whatever I want for dinner and not having to worry about cleaning it up before I've even eaten it or where to stash the leftovers so they aren't in anyone's way. I miss being able to walk around the house naked when I am getting ready in the morning. I miss being able to listen to my music anywhere other than in the car or on headphones. I miss living TV-free.

Plus, I am writing. Writing and submissions are still happening. My good friend, JFC, is excellent at encouraging, editing, and motivating my writerly endeavors. Despite all of the endless no's and no thank you's, he keeps being my cheerleader. Some days, it's the difference between gittin er done and not. We spent some time Sunday night working on stuff we each have in the hopper. This was after some rock and roll the night before, a wildflower hike, and a weird dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (has anyone ever had any other kind of dinner there?)... It would have been easy to be lazy, but we got each other up off the proverbial couch and over to the metaphorical typewriters. It was a good day, and maybe not the worst way to spend the next few months.

And then three

2010-03-17T11:51:00.001-05:00

Today will not include a bunch of crying. University of Arizona said no. I have already done all the bawling I can stand over it.

Since the odds have become highly likely that I am not going to any school next fall for my masters, I have started making plans to get my own place here. I really need a Room of my Own.

I'm still writing, and have posted the latest "losing" piece on the Transatlantic Enchilada. It didnt lose, so much as not win. It came in third, which I will take as a success.

JFC and I spent last weekend on an "urban writers retreat." we stayed in a nice hotel (with a pool for breaks). We both tackled (and completed) submissions. It was a fantastic way to focus our intentions. And a much needed getaway.

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Finding calming ground

2010-03-11T15:56:00.000-06:00

I have absolutely got to figure out ways to feel better about my current situation. No space of my own, a ridiculous commute, lots of work for little money, mounting debt, and rejections. It's making me nuts, and it doesn't have to, I'm convinced!

I am trying to think positive and or recognizing this is part of a larger process just isn't enough. Does anyone out there have any ideas for concrete ways to live more in the moment despite less than optimal circumstances?

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Miss Otis (along with the University of Alabama) regrets...

2010-03-06T19:28:00.001-06:00

It is getting harder and harder, as this year of rejections continues, to have any idea at all about what I'm supposed to really be doing with my life. I mean, I thought the lay off was a pretty clear sign, but maybe I misread it...

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Waiting all year for next year

2010-03-05T23:27:00.001-06:00

There's a lot of chatter over on this MFA application notification post about the merits and demerits of the programs in general. The majority of the 600+ comments are acceptance and rejection reports (so that the rest of us know better when to start worrying over the radio silence) but lately, perhaps as a way of passing what seems like the ENDLESS wait, a few commenters have mentioned why one might not want to spend 2-3 years in a fine arts writing program. Clearly these purport to soothe those of us with only Xes so far. Not that they do; the sour grapes or, even worse, patronizing cynicism from those already accepted, are transparent. There is a nervous-chatter quality to these pretty little speeches. Even still, the oh-so-susceptible/suggestible me has begun to think and rethink.

Some things I've been thinking

Am I just trying to "escape" real life?

If they all say no, will I have the heart to try again next year? Or will I get too superstitious and or bitter?

Was this a dumb/short sighted/irresponsible/fantastic idea?

If they all say no, what happens next year?

If they don't all say no, what happens next year?

It has been so long since I have just lived IN this year, instead of in the next one. It is exhausting.

Things that make me feel settled into the present: growing herbs, baking bread, sewing, walking to work. Hopefully soon, one way or the other.

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And then there were five

2010-03-03T10:43:00.001-06:00

I will not be attending the (barely ranked at all, which is exceptionally worrisome/terrifying) University of New Mexico.

Also I think I have a cavity.

There is currently running a GE commercial with Japanese macaques sitting in snow-ringed hotsprings. Would that I were a monkey.

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You're either on it, or pissed at traffic

2010-02-25T10:43:00.001-06:00

The bus, that is.

I have started taking the bus to work. Today is day two. I should be able to do it three days a week.

The total door to clock-in commute in the morning is two hours. Brutal? Maybe for a non-knitter who hates to read. In just three bus rides, I've finished a little over an inch of lil orange sock, three David Foster Wallace stories, and this blog post. Way better use of my time than screaming and yelling at the moron drivers on the freeway, getting to work late anyway, and being too burnt out by the time I get home to do anything but stare at dumb tv.

Plus, cranberry scone for breakfast! It's a win-win-win.

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Some days

2010-02-23T15:41:00.002-06:00

I get tired of holding my neck so far out. No word from the remaining schools, no reply to my job application, no "you are a winner" emails. There are a lot of opportunities out there. For success and for failure.

It's the kind of day for knitting and yoga and little else.

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Thanks Haloscan and Blogger

2010-02-21T15:41:00.000-06:00

So my "lifetime" support from Haloscan is over. And Blogger still has no way to import my old comments.

How lame.

Now all 1200+ comments from back in '04 til now are gone.

Guess it's time to reconsider my blogger blog.

...and then there were six.

2010-02-20T12:34:00.002-06:00

The University of Iowa sent me a note on Thursday.

They respectfully requested that I not waste anyone else's time with my terrible, terrible writing and that I consider a career more in line with my apparent abilities, like maybe being a teller at the DMV.

I'm paraphrasing slightly, but nonetheless they won't be offering me an education next year.

And so now I have started wondering what I will do if they all say no. It's possible that is what will happen. And then, all the reaching for the stars will be a lovely footnote to my (brief) hiatus from the dreary and soul sucking cube-life. We hope it doesn't end that way, but it could!

I have decided to re-open my writing blog, the Transatlantic Enchilada (it's over there on the right), and will be posting there all the stuff that has "failed." Often, this is hardly a reflection on the work itself, so I think it deserves its own time in the sun (or at least in a teeny tiny corner of the blogosphere). That blog also has a tip jar. I was conflicted over this one, but it had been suggested to me a few times in the past, so I figured what the hell. If you think it obligates readers, please let me know--that's the last thing I want to do.

Still eating mostly vegan, by the way. And still slogging through what is possibly the ugliest sweater ever... but who knows? Maybe it will end up super cute! Maybe I will get into school! Maybe I will finally ditch these last lousy ten pounds... all things are possible.

(O Hai big round belly. Guess who should go running already?)

******

Fun times hiking with JFC on President's Day...

The experiment is mostly over

2010-02-12T10:32:00.001-06:00

For a number of reasons, I'm done documenting this experiment. I will list two of them.

First, I can no longer support a diet that is so soy-dependant after seeing the effects first hand. Soy is estrogen! Use it very carefully!

Two, I will no longer help advertise (even very indirectly) a diet that my employer endorses.

I got the following stats on my recent "biometric screening" at work:

Nicotine: no
BMI: 24.7
Blood pressure: 119/70
Total Cholesterol: 182 (HDL: 55)

Looks pretty good, right? Nope. My employer considers me only slightly better than "unhealthy." Whole-ier than thou? You bet.
So screw them.

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Day...? Oh yeah, 16

2010-02-10T03:18:00.002-06:00

It's time consuming, this eating plant-strong business.

Yesterday I made three recipes at once, about 10 or 12 lunch/dinners. A few of those I'll share with JFC. It took HOURS.

I've also begun to notice some symptoms that the internets and some of my anti-soy coworkers would have me believe are related to the shit ton of soy products I've been taking in. I'll call them hormone-related and leave it at that. It is a bit unsettling, and I'm not totally sure that I buy that tofu is really better in every way for me than lean fish or eggs.

I do believe that my body is way happier without dairy. Way! Happier!

In other news, this vine yoke pattern is weird. The I-cord at the neck seems way too small, and I have no idea how l'll get the vines un-puffed. But I will soldier on!

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Day 15 and car trouble

2010-02-08T13:28:00.001-06:00

I'm actually up half a pound. Of course half a pizza is half a pizza with or without animals. Yesterday, JFC and I indulged in a vegan pizza from Z pizza and some cartoons.

The work on my vine yoke is going smoothly so far. The construction on this thing is so unique, it keeps me engaged.

The vegan thing is still going well. Except for the not losing weight part. But considering my two extravagant off-plan meals this week (mmm tsoynami, anyone?) it's good that I only went up half a pound.

Last night's dessert was lemon sorbet with warm blueberries... A beautiful and tasty combo.

My car headlamps both went out last night. This post was sent from the shop. I learned via wiki that the mechanism on my car that actually casts the light is called a headlamp. The beam it casts is called a headlight.

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Day 14 of vegan and a new knitalong

2010-02-07T14:59:00.001-06:00

Still vegan! Still totally doable. Vegan breakfast tacos after Bikram yoga is a big fat slice of amazing!

I just got gauge and am about to cast in for my Vine Yoke cardi... Two days late to the knitalong, but better late than lazy!

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Day 12 of the vegan thing...

2010-02-06T00:20:00.001-06:00

Tonight, I had the unhealthiest vegan food ever! Chili fries, deep fried samosas, mock chicken cutlets...and a "tsoynami". Green restaurant's version of a blizzard. It was all totally amazing! So effin good, I didn't miss the animals at all.

Vanilla soy ice cream w vegan chocolate cake, chocolate syrup and chocolate chips.

Thanks, Green!

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28 days of vegan: day 11.5

2010-02-05T01:35:00.001-06:00

Today I couldn't find a restaurant that had much more than onion rings and "house salad" to offer me. So I came home and had some hazelnuts and Turkish apricots before bed.

I got a walk in. I have been feeling tired, not run down, but actually *sleepy*. I took a sublingual b-12 today to see if it might help, and it could be the placebo effect, but I felt a bit more alert.

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28 days of vegan: day 10

2010-02-03T13:52:00.001-06:00

I forgot about day 9 in the blissed out state of a Bikram yoga class. Now I'm sore in all the right places. Plus, I was lucky enough to be accompanied by my friend Jeff, who was pretty inspiring as a first-timer.

I am still not missing any foods, this week I'm mostly living off last week's leftovers.

There will be some cheating on valentine's day, I have already decided. Not too much, but probably some fish.

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28 days of vegan: day 8

2010-02-01T13:05:00.001-06:00

Current weight: 146
BMI: 25.5

Less than earth shattering, but a pound is a pound! This week, now that the crazy write-a-thon is over, I will be adding exercise to the mix, at least 30 minutes a day.

I am also going to be eating a lot of leftovers this week, as the grocery list was way too long last week for just me.

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28 days of vegan: day 7

2010-02-01T00:07:00.001-06:00

Breakfast tacos: thumbs up!
Macro plate at a pita place for lunch/ dinner: awesome!
Mood: accomplished!

(I got my submission finished for the second contest entry this month. It was a marathon of writing and editing, but it's done! Between school apps and entries, I have nine of my fingers n toes crossed at this point...)

Tomorrow, I will weigh-in.

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28 days of vegan: Day 6

2010-01-30T10:40:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was my first "junkie" day of veganism. (Veganism? Is that right?)

I ate a LOT of vegan snacks that were left out after the Grocery team meeting (I work in a natural food store, for the 3 of you out there who don't KNOW me-know me). And I ate a few pieces of dark chocolate that might have contained small amounts of milk. That's what I attributed the digestive "upset" that occured later to, anyway.

Dinner was a fantastic portobello mushroom burger and sweet potato fries. So good I didn't even miss the cheese.

About cheese... that's the one thing (besides bacon) that I always think I could never give up. I am not alone in that feeling. People LOVE cheese.

(very NSFW and pretty over-the-top, but if you like Sarah Silverman, check out how much she LOVES her Baby Bel cheeses)

Turns out, just like every other love, this one's mostly chemical.

Cheese contains pretty decent doses of tryptophan, which, when combined with a carbohydrate (grilled cheese sammy, anyone?) crosses the blood brain barrier and turns into --drumroll--

SEROTONIN

...nature's feel good chemical. This is what Paxil and Prozac and all the rest do for us: they keep our serotonin levels high.

Does this mean I will be sadder and moodier (than normal) for the month? Probably not, for two reasons. One, I have tryptophan at home just in case. It's an over the counter supplement, and can help with mood and sleep. But the second reason is that most beans, soy, and nuts (including natural peanut butter) contain even higher levels of tryptophan.

That doesn't mean I won't miss cheese, but knowing a little more about WHY I miss it helps. And knowing that a good bowl of red beans and rice can be just as comforting, if I give it a chance, also helps.

I am still feeling a bit bloated and visually, I feel... flabbier. But my clothes all fit the same, so I am not sure exactly what I'm seeing. It could also be that I haven't gone running or to the gym in two weeks, and guilt is getting the best of me. I am going to remedy that tomorrow morning at some Bikram yoga, I hope.

28 days of vegan: day 5

2010-01-29T14:53:00.001-06:00

Owing to an omission in the recipe, last night's "meatloaf" was pretty weird. It was too soft, sort if a fake meat flavored oatmeal... But after chilling overnight, today's leftovers are much better.

I only got a couple hours of sleep, so I'm pretty beat. But still feeling good...!

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Day four

2010-01-28T13:43:00.002-06:00

I feel great.
Started the day with blueberry and pecan pancakes. Without eggs or milk they are very different than other pancakes...

No fork needed!

Crispy! And with peanut butter, they are also pretty decadent.

Last night I wanted meat. It's totally just my crazy pants, since I haven't been meatless long enough to physically crave it. But I am the queen of gratification, preferably immediate... It only takes putting something on the no-no list for me to want it.

So, I made a "chicken" seitan stirfry and tried to sate my craving with two desserts, one before dinner (fantastically rich rice dream sandwich dipped in chocolate) and one after (lemon sorbet with warmed blackberries and their juice). All that sugar is surely not ideal for my weightloss goals, but mentally it helped.

In fibery news, I felted down a gap XL sweater from way back. It's now about a medium and fits great!

I will be trying out the Vine Yoke cardigan with my Austin girls starting on Feb 4th. There were many, many suggestions and tips on Ravelry. So glad I checked! But first, I need to hustle on the hat and some arm warmers for an old friend!

In writery news, I am scrambling to finish an essay by Sunday for a writing contest. My vegan notes will be much sparser for the rest of the week...

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28 days of Vegan: day3

2010-01-27T13:20:00.001-06:00

I had a headache for much of yesterday. Luckily, I know detox symptoms when I feel them, so I rode it out and it is 90% gone today.

Beans, rice, and avocados last night was delish, as was the tofu-berry mousse. My dining companion, Jeff, who is NOT vegan (but is a good sport) had seconds and thirds.

Today's coconut milk latte is not as good as the rich soy from yesterday.

My body is a bit bloated from all the fiber, but I still feel lighter somehow...

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Day 2...

2010-01-26T18:57:00.001-06:00

Starting weight: 147
Starting BMI: 25.6 ("overweight")

Soy lattes? Delightful.

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E 2 vegan experiment: Day 1 (now with more knitting!)

2010-01-25T13:34:00.002-06:00

So far so good.

My breakfast cereal was remarkably complex (4 different types of cereal, 3 fruits, some add-ins and almond milk) but also quite tasty. I wouldn't have imagined EVER that grapefruit and kiwi over cereal could be good. How is it good? It's crazy pants.

I also made up two lunches and two dinners worth of meals, it took about an hour. There was very little vegetable chopping, which is sort of my healthy eating nemesis--which is why I think it went so fast.

At first I wasn't really sure that this could work for weight loss, but since the E2 diet doesn't allow any added fats (no oils that don't occur in a whole food like nuts or avocados) and at least today's carb load is all very complex--I will now admit it isn't totally impossible. I do wish he would include the calories for the recipes, but I am going to trust him on this.

If you want to join me or try the diet, you can get the book here:

And join the website for free here:
The Engine 2 Academy

I forgot to get a starting weight today before my ginormous cereal bowl, so I will do that tomorrow.

In knitting news, I will be knitting along on a sweater project with my girls in Austin in a couple of weeks, so I am trying to finish up a couple of gifts. Here's the first one in progress...

Who's hat, half-way done!

Just a basic hat pattern using a Paton's blend for ease of upkeep for my friend Sara (whose nickname in high school was "The Who"). The flashing is pretty distinct, I hope she likes it!

ISO: skinnier butt

2010-01-23T11:45:00.003-06:00

I have been working on getting in shape and eating better for a couple of years now. So far, I'm down a little over 50 pounds from my starting weight, down about 12 beats per minute on my resting heart rate, and my BMI has dropped from nearly 34 to almost 25. I have also finished 3 half marathons. And I fit into a size 8 for the first time in my life. I'm close.

I have been hovering around my current weight and size for months and months now. Down five, then back up; rinse and repeat. Living with my parents has been really difficult, as they are junk and comfort food junkies. All the stuff that got me to nearly 200 lbs is around every day--cookies, chips, steak and mashed potatoes, cheese and bread. Plus my new 40 work week and 45 minute round trip commute means that I have less time to work out than ever.

I'm in a rut.

So I am going to try to jostle myself out of it by going vegan for one month. One month is doable, right? For a bacon and cheddar loving girl, it might be a bit hairy, but lately getting out of my comfort zones has done wonders.

I would welcome any of your feedback on either getting off of a plateau or persevering in the face of calorie-laden tasty, tasty adversity. Anyone out there doing it? Any of y'all vegan? Do you miss shrimp and brie?

Raining

2010-01-21T14:42:00.002-06:00

It's raining in the desert! Today is the kind of day for flannel pajamas, hot tea, knitting, and classic movies.

Unfortunately, I am at work. I am trying to think good thoughts about that, but the rain!

The race recovery was swift and complete, I am working on two writing contests, and daydreaming about where I will be and what I will be doing next year.

There is a hat I absolutely need to knit, but where is the time? And who can knit a hat, when such dreamy socks are sitting around waiting to be finished?

PF Chang's Rock n Roll Half Marathon race report

2010-01-18T12:03:00.004-06:00

PROLOGUE: I don't run for the solitude. It is true that some mornings (when I can drag myself out when it is still actually morning) are lovely, especially in Austin on the Town Lake trail, with the sun rising and the crispness in the air that wasn't yet full of everyone else's breathing and thinking and doing. Some mornings, the music is just right to complement the quiet. Mostly, though, running is a way for me to socialize actively. In Austin, my running team, the fantastic Huevos Rancheros, and my running group coaches were my inspiration and encouragement. They were great rabbits to chase on the training runs and wonderful friends to talk with on the sometimes grueling long runs.

When I got to the Phoenix in July, I talked my little sister into training with me for this race (she lasted up until the 7 mile run before all but bailing completely because of her too busy life and some thorny personal issues) and then some coworkers (none of them were ever able to make a long run or the first few quality workouts I bothered to organize). It was a frustrating process, hoping for people to volunteer the same level of excitement for the ridiculousness of running great distances for a chunk of metal on a ribbon.

Eventually, the work team dwindled to five other folks who were serious. We baked cookies, begged for items to raffle, and even collected spare change to raise money for everyone's entry fees. Just before we registered, the five became four.

It was still a team, and our store bought us shirts.

Fueled by Whole Foods

On race day, two of the four showed up for the meet-up. One called out sick, the other apparently showed up and ran on his own.

Peter, Sam, and I pose pre-race

Peter and Sam ran and finished their first half marathons and I am so glad. They seemed to have fun, and I hope they feel the same sense of accomplishment I always do when I cross under that banner.

My attempts to build a team were less than successful, and I can't help but feel disappointed. Race day, and the race itself, however, were awesome--so I want to start there.

RACE DAY:
Just three weeks before the race, my friend Jeff decided he might want to run it. We had been running a few times, a 5k, a 6 1/2 miler, and finally a mighty 10 miler. The last two were his longest runs ever and I felt that if we went slow, he would be able to finish come race day. He signed up, and on Sunday morning I headed to his house.

The PF Chang's Half Marathon is a one way, mostly flat route from downtown Phoenix to Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe. We left Jeff's house downtown at 6am and headed to Tempe to park at the finish line and shuttle up to the start.

Team AWESOME ready to rrrrrumble

I am notoriously late for everything except planes and races--yes, there are exceptions to every rule, but generally speaking. The half and full marathons each had separate start times and gates, we were supposed to start at 8:30. While six seemed crazy early, it gave us enough time to park with tens of thousands of other runners, board a shuttle without too much wait time, and arrive at the start village with no rushing. The two other WFM team mates showed up around 8 and we chatted for a bit before lining up in our corrals.

Chang's race also had a new (to me) corral system, based on your projected finish time, that allowed for a less crushing start. It also meant that way back in corral 19 it was after 9am before Jeff, Sam, and I crossed the start line, right underneath John McCain's encouraging words. I guess if he had won, he might have been at the Full marathon start line?

John McCain, pointing like Uncle Sam. WE CAN DO IT!

Biggest drag at the start? No "Eye of the Tiger." We did hear the theme from Rocky and some Lady Gaga, but I attribute later sluggishness to the lack of this key component.

Biggest fun at the start? Jeff and Sam getting respectively queasier and amped to cross the start line.

And finally we were off! The first two miles are always tough for me, warming up and getting into my pace takes time. As usual, I forgot to set my stopwatch, but unlike the last race, I remembered in less than a minute after the start.

Sam took off before long, and Jeff and I settled into just under a 12 minute mile pace. We were able to keep that up for the first five miles. The route was entertaining, with several local bands and area drill teams with themed cheer camps. One school had pirates, another cave-girls. Some had fashioned mini-arches to run under--we hit as many of them as we could. Jeff was a great running buddy, as he cheered back at the random spectators with me and cracked jokes along the way. "'Official Photographer'? How about official guy in the way?"

Our race was spent mostly passing walkers and reading signs. One woman held up a sign that said "If it was easy, I'd do it!" and another, simlply "CRUSH IT"

My sister, who was unable to run the race, made a couple of signs and with her husband and two sons was supposed to be "somewhere" on the route. Our start was so late, I didn't expect them to still be out, but they were there just after the mile 7 marker. My sister had a sign that said "We <3 CDFB!" It was great to have a cheering squad!

Right after we saw Bree and the boys, we made a pit stop. I have never stopped en route, but today was glad I did. Rather than Gatorade, they were handing out something called Cytomax. It is much sweeter and delicious than Gatorade, but went right through me, just before mixing with my Gu to create some sort of painful rock in my stomach. Next time, I will stick to water. The stop probably added just under 10 minutes to our time.

It was a good thing there were bands and cheering kids, as the route itself was not very picturesque. We briefly tracked through a nice neighborhood, but most of the course was on Phoenix main streets lined with strip malls, pawn shops, and dollar stores.

In the last two races, I missed the mile 8 marker, and, it turns out, for the better. There is something really sucky about mile 8, primarily the 5 miles left to go. The stomach pain had been joined by some foot pain, mildly reminiscent of the first race and the plantar fasciitis. I was actually considering walking! Luckily, Jeff was the third quarter rabbit, and he kept us going. I really felt unprepared for this race, once I was out there.

The two of us kept up the encouraging words past the mile ten marker. This is usually where my second wind kicks in, but I was so beat. Not enough sleep, not enough speed or interval work--I was running on fumes.

Mile eleven marker was a key point. We were both so beat to hell: wincing, gasping... but goddamn it, finishing. The route wound through the desert-y out back of the sports center complex. The other runners around us were mostly quiet, struggling.

We pushed forward, toward the stadium, passing fewer walkers as the whole back of the pack wanted to finish strong. The last half mile seemed to take forever, with folks in medals heading towards us on the sidewalks, back to their cars. Finally, we were in sight of the arch! Jeff picked up speed from I don't know where, and I grabbed his hand and we sprinted across the finish line.

Official chip time: 2:49:10

The first few moments after, we were both wobbly and queasy. We got our medals and beat a hasty retreat to the car for Indian buffet and banana split desserts.

At the beginning, I said this race was awesome. It was hard as hell, but for the first time, I had someone running with me and keeping me company the whole way. I consider this race, my slowest and least scenic, as my favorite so far.

A Hoodie for All Seasons

2010-01-15T15:59:00.003-06:00

Ok, maybe not all seasons, but at least three of them. Here is the run-down on my sweet tweed hooded cardigan that I finished in early Fall. I have worn it quite a bit since then and am still in love.

The sweater on Ravelry

Pattern: Basic Chic Hoodie by Bonne Marie Burns
Fiber: This crazy stuff called Four Seasons that I found online ages ago and haven't ever found since. It is a wool, angora, and nylon blend; it is dark chocolate brown with orange and tan tweed specks.
Modifications: The only real mod I made was on the hood. It was supposed to come to a point, but that's a little too elven for me. I did a simple tuck and hem at the point and it worked great.

What I loved the least about this pattern: I love the speed and lack of seaming that a raglan affords, but the hood took about FOREVER. It seems so small in my mind's eye, but took as much time and yarn as a sleeve. The ribbing around the hood might be about two or three stitches to wide, and it tends to want to curl in, but otherwise no complaints.

What I loved the most about this pattern: Everything! Bonne Marie sure can write an easy-to-follow pattern! Lovelovelove the little knit-in pockets and I was stoked to find perfectly shaded buttons to match the tweed. I wear this sweater a lot.

Running to stand still

2010-01-14T13:20:00.002-06:00

On Sunday, I will be starting (and hopefully finishing!) my third half marathon.

I am dragging four coworkers and a friend along for the ride.

Wish us luck and stop back by for the race report!

(this is from my last race--a sunset 3.1 miles)

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Seven down

2010-01-11T20:47:00.002-06:00

As of this afternoon, I have completed all seven of my grad school application. Letters of purpose and intent, entrance essays, CVs versus resumes... And manuscripts of what I think is my best writing--it's all in the wind now. There is nothing to but wait. (Well, wait and write and knit and run.) Think good thoughts.

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O Sister, can you spare a Xanax? Or, There's not enough holy basil in the world to get me out of the anxiety cave today

2010-01-09T01:29:00.004-06:00

In the fourth grade I hung around a small group of girls led by the two prettiest girls in my class, I'll call them the Heathers. While I was in the crowd with them, I was third-string on a good day. First, I was already overweight—not by much, but it didn't take much back then. Second, I liked weird things like holding the class python or the visiting tarantula, playing with my little ponies (we were too old by then), and listening to classic rock. Lame! Lame! Lame! They suffered me, I think, because I could draw and had good ideas for Projects. Collaborative collages, sing-a-longs, impromptu talent shows—I was the idea girl.

But I was never cool.

This manifested itself most often by exclusion from the cadre's network of informal “clubs” that would form and dissolve on a weekly or even daily basis. The Heathers would decide to wear their tiny little Levi's jean jackets one day, and suddenly there would be a Jean Jacket club. After begging and pleading, my mom begrudgingly bought me one. I proudly wore it to school only to learn that as an off-brand, it “didn't count.” They had a club for girls with purple clothes, but, it turns out, my thrift store sweatshirt was “old” purple. I mean, who knows if the right jacket or purple culottes even existed for those little girls hell-bent on excluding lest they be excluded? We were cutthroat, even at nine years old. I tried to affect a who-gives-a-shit attitude, but I never fooled anyone. I went home and shoved that loser coat into the furthest reaches of my closet and only wore it when my mother made me. She paid good money for it, after all. But I wouldn't wear it to school.

Ever since I can remember, my biggest fear has been mediocrity.* I just can't stand the thought of being third-string anything in my life anymore. I can do better than that.

While there were a lot of contributing factors to my lay-off, this is one of them: I had a nice responsible, normal job and I fought it tooth and nail once I lost interest in being excellent at it. I became a stubborn, rock-kicking, eye-rolling child at every turn because the title of best was out of my reach. I mean, I put it out of my reach, but let's not get mired in details. Ultimately, I was bored and boredom made me difficult. I deserved to get kicked out of the IT club. While this has given me the opportunity to right some wrong turns that I have made in my life (good), it has also exposed me to the possibility of grander and more public failures (badbadbad).

I found out today that I did not win an essay contest that I entered last fall, when all the boldest steps toward my new life were being made. I have a stack of no thank-yous and a list of other contests I haven't won, but this time the essay was all about my life changing process. I put together some thoughts on this last hard, weird, fun, and fucked-up year. And I wrote a good essay about it. But apparently, not a great one. And right now I am fighting every instinct to give up.

It's childish and unproductive, I know this, but I am really disappointed. Ever since I let strangers into my house in Austin and moved in with my parents it has been one rejection slip after another, and I would just like a SHRED of evidence in support of this crazy-ass notion. Just one thing that is good enough for the Heather Editors out there—is that too much to ask?

*My second biggest fear now is gaining back all the weight I've lost. NOTE: I am going to spare us all the self-deprecating rant about my fears being so self-centric, but know it's rattling around in the brain box with the rest of the misfit toys.

First Monday of the year

2010-01-04T12:53:00.003-06:00

I would like to dislike Mondays less in the coming year. Starting with the next one.

I love that House rides a Repsol Honda like Nicky Hayden.

PS, the run went great. Highlights included city parakeet sitings, stopping for mango lemonade, and the post-run Thai dinner to end all dinners.

Ten for 2010

2010-01-03T09:58:00.001-06:00

Today my friend Jeff and I will be running ten miles in honor of the new year.

It will be his first tenner, and my first in new shoes, so we will be taking it slow.

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Story of my life

2010-01-02T10:26:00.002-06:00

I am always running late. It is a combination of poor estimating skills and lack of motivation. I mean who wants to rush through the morning just to arrive at *work*?

This morning I watched the sunrise from my morning walk. The soundtrack was provided by Bobby Bare Jr.

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Location:Phoenix, AZ

Happy New Year

2010-01-01T20:45:00.002-06:00

It has been sort of a weird Fall.

Last year's resolutions didn't go as planned.

Technically, last year didn't go as planned, in a number of ways. And while we're at it, the year before didn't really follow the plan either. This probably says something about plans, best laid (or is it lain?) and otherwise.

This year I will also not make any real and sweeping resolutions. It doesn't seem to matter whether I declare them or not, it's the follow through part that makes it happen. So I will just leave it at this: I intend to do my best this year, in all aspects of my life.

Some things that I have done lately: I finished a cardi and never posted it, I have applied to 4 of the 7 grad schools that I have my eye on, I went on a pretty cool roadtrip to the Grand Canyon and then another one to Tucson and parts nearby. I was published in the Rio Review again (yay!) I entered some writing contests, but haven't won any of them yet (but there's always tomorrow).

As far as going forward, I have set for myself some writing and fitness goals for the near future, and this blog will play a bit part in all that. If anyone is still out there: Happy New Year and talk to you again soon.

lately

2009-09-03T01:28:00.002-05:00

It has been nothing but rejection slips and terrible practice test results around here these days.

I hope I didn't overestimate my potential while under the influence of an unemployment-induced delusion.

At least I am submitting work, right?

In other news... this baby is blocking, with nothing left but button sewing left to do. FO pics soon, I hope.

Knitting as a crutch

2009-08-24T00:22:00.002-05:00

One of the reasons I enjoy knitting so much is related to it's predictability. You sit down to a pattern, you use your experience and knowledge to select a fiber, you follow the instructions... And you usually get an expected result.

This process can't be used with people, with relationships. People are so much more complex than even the most tricksy lace or fair isle patterns.

Sometimes it is comforting to retreat to the reliability of instructions. Rather than face the convolutions of personal change--the difficult emotions, the mountain of tasks leading toward one's dream--it might be easier to hide out in more orderly territory.

In other news, studying is not progressing as I'd like, but my hoodie is almost done.

New woolie, rounding the last lap

2009-08-21T11:04:00.002-05:00

Awhile back, during the years of mighty stashing efforts, I found this great yarn really cheap somewhere. It is called "Four Seasons" and it is mostly wool with little flecks of angora and polyamide. I bought up what was left of three colors: a dark chocolate brown (with orange and white tweed), a milk chocolate (with blue and tan tweed), and a denim blue (with orange and brown tweed).

I used to be so large that there wasn't enough of any one color in my stash for me to make a whole sweater, so I thought about stripes or contrasting trims and just sat on the yarn (as one is wont to do with stash yarns).

Well, that is no longer the case!

Chic Knits "Basic Chic Hoodie" in dark chocolate

The hoodie was born from my failed fitted vest. After I rounded up all of the stray balls, I did some maths and realized I had more than enough for this sweater. The lines of the design go well with the versatile tweed--it will go great with everything.

I still have one pocket to finish, the hood, and the button bands. And even though there is no way this sweater is geographically appropriate, I will definitely be wearing it as much as I can!

An endless parade of socks, or a post that doesn't mention health care reform even once...

2009-08-18T16:16:00.003-05:00

OK, maybe once, in the title only. We shall not speak of it here otherwise.

SOCKS.

I have been knitting a lot of socks these days... For myself and others. Socks are nice small bites of knitting that don't make me feel overheated here in the oppressive desert.

Trekking, for me...

Lifestyles (the yarn, not the condom) for my friend, V

Some ribbed Koigu for my friend, F

I also finally finished my Clapotis, but have no pics except of it blocking:

It has a very sexy halo. Brooks Duet.

In other news, I have been receiving rejection slips from publishers and trying to keep a stiff upper lip. I will take the GRE in three weeks and then start my school applications. Also, I am 6.6 lbs away from my goal and I dyed my hair red. Feeling a little discombobulated out here in the sand and sun. Send cool and good thoughts.

T-minus 4 days

2009-07-22T17:22:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting at a bar, having a beer, and trying not to explode from moving stress. These men in my life are so frustrated at my need for attention and affection right now: I should be focusing on the move, not them. Anyone else out there think this is one of those boy vs girl things? Right now is when I need kind words and a strong shoulder to lean on the most!

Press restart... and then go

2009-07-19T22:42:00.003-05:00

A year ago, I got canned from this pretty good gig (I know that if you are one of my two readers, you already know a lot of this stuff, but bear with me--I'm trying for a flow).

It wasn't the best job in the world, but I felt like I had it pretty good for a cube-dweller. The company seemed to have ideals, and to care about me. I got to travel, and they paid for my Blackberry. I had medical and dental and a 401k.

And then, whoosh!

It is amazing how quickly one can have one's suppositions turned on their little (suppository?) heads: the proverbial eye blinked and I was in the unemployment line. I beat the rush, for whatever good it did me. And I freaked out for a bit.

School helped. I studied rocks for some stability and grounding and wrote to get all that stuff that was in out. I drank too much. Overindulged. Flew around the country for a bit, pretending it was just a long vacation.

I really wanted to want that life back. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it, you know? After the rug is pulled out like that, you start thinking... who needs rugs?

But the not-wanting is not so much of a plan. The not knowing what comes next is bad for my digestion, sleep-cycle, and love life (such that any of those things are). So I started thinking on a plan, a crazy plan. To not go back to that life at all. To instead, go to the life I really wanted: to create, for the majority of my living.

It is fortunate, I feel the need to insert at this point, that back then I did NOT have my heart set on being a ballerina.

Anyway, it was time for some teeth gnashing, trail wandering, hours of hot yoga (that's the unemployed and short attention span afflicted version of soul searching).

The current plan is to go to grad school, get a terminal degree and then teach part time to support my writing habit.

To go back to school and get my MFA, I need to get accepted to a well funded program and get my ass out of debt--in that order. So, on Saturday morning, all of my earthly belongings will head West for Phoenix, AZ. My parents live there and want me to come hang out for a bit, get my finances straight and my applications in the mail. I can't really say that I am excited about Phoenix in the summer... but it is to a good end. So I am going to try to keep the bitching to a minimum.

I hereby make two of my three wishes:

1.) For the health, wealth, and happiness of those I hold dear to continue on for at least as long as I do; and
2.) To get into a fully-funded creative writing MFA program for Fall 2010

A new era?

2009-07-18T19:30:00.001-05:00

Maybe this iPhone will mean more posts... Everything is changing. More to come soon, anyone out there (here?) still listening, stay tuned.

Finished object!

2009-03-24T11:15:00.002-05:00

Finally, a pair of socks. I have had three in the WIPs pile FOREVER.

Yarn: One of my all time favorite sock yarns ever (I have knit at least 4 pairs from it) Steinbach Wolle Strapaz. It is scratchy, smooshy, warm, and a fast knit.
Pattern: Basic toe up with a figure 8 toe, a short row heel and 2x2 ribbing all the way up the leg.

Of course, it is now way too hot to wear them, but dammit, they're done!

I have a couple of cool FOs in the hopper, including the redux of the way too big fitted U... But they need their own post.

The new part time job is not so bad, here are some pictures from my first week at work:

SPRING BREAK 09 - SOUTH PADRE

My official title is "touring field associate." I work for a tobacco company and get flown around to college towns to sample out the products to mature smokers. And in our off time, we drink and hang on the beach. If only it were enough to pay the mortgage!

Creativity

2009-03-09T10:29:00.002-05:00

I recently watched this video for one of my classes, and it is so amazing, I had to share. It isn't short, nearly 20 minutes. But Elizabeth Gilbert has some really wonderful insights into creativity and genius.

In other news, I am plugging away at my Chic Knits hoodie, unraveling the U-neck as I go... Pics soon.

Wherein we take a deep breath and love the universe despite its crooked teeth and halitosis

2009-03-03T17:49:00.004-06:00

I finished a sweater.

Hey! Isn't that supposed to be a "sexy" and "fitted" knit? Doesn't it look sort of ... bulky?

Maybe its the angle, I am sure it's not SO VERY HUGE...

Or, errr.

It does look OK from the back...

Probably because you don't so much notice the lack of shapeliness from the back.

siiiiiiiiggggh

Thank you, Universe. I had forgotten the process, I was way too into the product. What a nut I am! And also, thank you for all of the other seemingly prickly gifts you have given me lately. I am fortunate to have such little puzzles of generosity to work out.

But between you and me, Universe, can we chalk this up to all my running and eating right, and not so much because I didn't really swatch? Kthxbai.

PS, I will be ripping it later to make a "Basic Chic Hoodie." Please remind me the next time I want to knit a super cute vest, that I have looked like an avocado seed on toothpicks in every single vest I have ever tried to knit.

February, February... Where art thou, February?

2009-03-02T13:04:00.004-06:00

Hey! It's gone. The whole month... kaput! Sucked into a vortex. Disappeared like matter in a black hole.

And what do I have to show for it? Pfft. Not much, frankly.

OK, I mean, I have some good memories: some lovely experiences, a few really great moments.(Granted, some shit too, but I could dwell on one or the other, couldn't I?)

But little writing (though Rogue posted my race report on their site, which was noice), little knitting (ok, one secret project that I can't tell you about)... so I ran a little. I ate out a lot (some really good food, some really great food, and some tex mex--which is good even when it's bad). I spent way too much time with a ridiculous monkey who refuses to be my boyfriend no matter how much he likes me (dumb or what?).

There is the possibility that I got a lil jobby that will last me here through the beginning of summer.

What's that you say?
SUMMER?
But you were gonna leave before summer!!

Yeah.
Was gonna.

I didn't get all the purging done that I wanted to, but I also had to face a major change in my timeline that meant a change in the priority of the purging. Mainly, I can't move to New York next month. There is just no way. No job, no move. Am I totally crushed? Yes. Yes. Yes. YES.

"I can't move to New York next month" is like this big, stupid neon sign of FAILURE behind my eyelids everytime I blink. It means so much more than it should. It has come to stand for my ability to do anything right. This is retarded, I know. But I can't shake it. There seems to be so much shitty stuff I just can't shake these days, like if I don't hold on to every one of my feelings (especially the huge crappy ones) I won't have any thing to hold on to at all.

From where comes this bullshit? I once felt way more strong and sassy and motivated and awesome. Was I basing all of my self-worth on a job and a boyfriend this whole time? How the fuck can I get out from under the feeling THAT inspires?

There was so much stupid heartbreak this month... in every direction I could imagine!
Could March please be better? Please?

Austin Half Marathon: Race Report

2009-02-16T08:37:00.010-06:00

I got in the car at 5:45 am; the moon was a perfect half circle very high and smallish in the still-dark sky. I had arranged everything on the couch the night before, so getting ready only took a moment. I had my peanut butter english muffin and half a banana and hit the road.

Part of my ritual is singing on the way to a race. Granted, I sing in the car pretty much constantly, but on race day I sing LOUD.

Pay no mind to what they say,
Doesn't matter anyway!
Our lips are sealed--
Our lips are sealed!

Who's dumb idea was an endurance race the morning after Valentine's Day, anyway? I couldn't drink much wine, I couldn't over indulge in much of anything. As it was, I still didn't get to bed until close to one in the morning. Luckily, I had gotten a bunch of sleep Friday night. For once, I had done what the coaches said regarding sleep and eating. They said to do our carb loading on Friday as well. The Huevos met up at Cannoli Joes... I don't know the last time I ate so much. My stomach actually hurt from pasta and pizza. But what a good hurt!

The drive from my house only lasted on Go-go's song. I pulled into the Rogue parking lot at the exact moment Jen did. We had pre-planned to meet here and walk to Congress to meet the other Huevos. We took the opportunity to snap a pre-race shot.

I don't remember much of the walk to the start, I was still waking up. Jen and I talked while we warmed up our cold muscles. With each block we were surrounded by more and more runners. The half marathoners had green numbers, the full distance runners wore blue and yellow. We would be running together until just after mile ten. While Jen and I waited for our team mates, I aggressively stretched my calves. I was trying to feel confident in my feet, not worried about them.

We found the other Huevos before too long and took a requisite cell phone team shot.

We lined up with the 4:45 group--that's the full marathon time, and works out to less than an 11 minute per mile pace, which was way too fast for me, but I figured I would hang with my team mates as long as I could.

At one point, everyone except me saw a helicopter nosing in between the buildings downtown, looking very surreal and like maybe Godzilla would be walking by any moment. It was a bit surreal. The sheer mass of runners was staggering.

After a bit of discussion, we all agreed we were less stressed this second go around. Jen was committed to enjoying the race more than the last time, Kate and Joe seemed to be in it to win it, and Laura and Q were gonna finish together. My goal was to finish in less than 3 hours.

In retrospect this makes me think I really need to work on my confidence levels, but I had some good reasons to be so pessimistic.

Reasons this race might have sucked:

Hills. Including the entire first mile and a half, and a short but steep climb at the beginning of mile 11 and a longer and steeper climb at the end of mile 11.
Plantar Fasciitis. I was worried. While I had been going to my appointments, I hadn't done absolutely ALL of my exercises. Maintenance is very tough business for a procrastinator.
Coughing. The entire week I had started each morning with an invisible ten pound weight on my chest and coughing up goop. I had worried it was the flu, but it was the worst in the morning and late at night. And everyone "caught" it, seemingly overnight. Rumor had it as allergies. I have never had allergies... why this week of all weeks?

I focused on my calves and ankles and we got ready to go. A friend of mine was staying at a hotel on the race route, and I texted him just as we took off. Laura was sad that we hadn't heard Eye of the Tiger, but joy of joys, it was blasting from a truck just before we crossed the start line. We were approximately 13,000 runners strong. And the race, as they say, was on.

The first mile and a half was straight south on Congress, the Capitol at our back, a long steady climb before us. The runners filled the giant street to the edges. We started slow, letting the hill be our warm up. As we got closer to the hotel, I could see my friend looking sleepy while searching the sea of people. I ran up to him and surprised him with a big smooch before dashing back to the group. It was a bit dramatic and funny and bolstered me to the top of the hill.

The other Huevos were gone before we summited and turned right. They have been doing a much better job of keeping up with the runs (especially during what I considered the crucial month of November--the real building part of the training) and everyone was so much faster than when we started. But I had slacked, and while I was faster (and proud of that) I wasn't about to kill myself to keep up this day. I let them go, and just sort of floated with the group.

Near the top of the hill I saw coach Lorrie and hollered. I was a dorky cheerleader the whole damn race, yelling out to the clapping spectators, rooting for the bands along the way (there were a lot of bands along the entire route, it was very cool)... It made me feel connected since I was without running partners for nearly all of the race. A friend recently said that he couldn't tell if I was more cool or more nerdy. That day, I definitely felt nerdy, but I was ok with it. My mother would say, "Doesn't that make you cool, then?"

When I saw the 2 mile marker I looked down at my watch to check my pace... And realized I had never started the timer. Doh. I started it at mile two and waited for three. The hill had me huffing and puffing, but my heartrate was still below 190--that number is high for me to maintain for any serious distance, and is my "slow the hell down" indicator.

I drifted with the sea of people until I was running with the 5:00 pace group--still a bit fast, but a more reasonable goal. The last race, I ran an average of 12 and a half minute miles... this group was running over a minute per mile faster, but I was able to keep up while we rounded the second right turn down 1st street.

At the four mile marker, I looked down and saw that I had run the last two miles in 22:20. Huh.
About this time, I passed the 5:00 sign-bearer and wouldn't see her again until mile 8. (For race newbies: there are volunteers who run carrying these tall signs with the pace on them, so you can position yourself near them, thus marking your approximate pace.)

[Image from Rogue Running.]

The run down First street was pretty scenic. Someone had put up Burma Shave style banners all the way down the hill. The one that caught my eye was

JUST TRY TO PASS
.
.
.

THAT GUY UP FRONT

There was actually a fair bit of jockeying in the crowd after that one. I was passed by a woman on my left while I was passing a jogging couple on my right.

I saw Coaches Amy and Lorrie (who had cut through the blocks to catch back up with the stream of people) and again yelled my fool head off at them. There were also several bands on the way down the hill, including a rather morbid and emo looking set playing "Volcano" by Damien Rice, which was excellent.

At the bottom of the hill, just before crossing Lady Bird Lake back into downtown, I saw a spectator holding up a white signboard that said in big green markered letters:

Your feet hurt because
you're kicking so much ASS!!!

It was such a beautiful day. Not too cold, the sun was still behind some clouds. There were substantially more spectators as the pack crossed the lake and made it down Cesar Chavez headed west. Somewhere around there was mile six, I looked down at my watch: 44:40. I was dead on an 11:10 mile, four miles in a row. Crazy! I looked back and could just barely catch site of the 5 hour pace sign.

Lots of spectators down Chavez... The people look serious, searching the sea of numbers, their eyes slide past me. I am not their runner. Then suddenly, the squinting, searching look splits open into a grin. The serious watcher starts jumping up and down, waving their sign, screaming for their runner. "WOOO! Amy! You Rock! Oh my god! You are doing it!" In the pack, the runner jumps in the air, waves their arms and their smile can be seen from space. Some runners stop while family members take their pictures. A pair of runners take pictures of each other at the 15k marker. There is much jubilation on the route. So many runners in my part of the pack are doing this for the first time. Twice I see a minivan on the route, three young girls on the roof look through the crowd, until they find the one person who matters.

"Go! Daddy! Run! Go go go! DaddyDaddyDaddy!!!" His wife is jumping up and down next to the car, cheering him on with a smile and waving arms. I catch his tears a little in my own throat.

We all keep running, past other non-racers who are running the Lady Bird Lake trail. How could you run today, and not Run today? When I pass under Mopac, I see the band that is set up to serenade us is one I know. I yell out the leader singer's name as I run past. The whole band whoops into the mics back at me then pounds into their next song. The pack I am in snakes up the hill onto Lake Austin Blvd and continues west. I used to run this neighborhood the first year I tried half marathon training. I know there are some hills coming up.

Another sign encourages us.

Run Like U Stole Something

When I passed the mile 7 marker, I eat a caffeinated chew, and check my watch, 55:59. Still on track, but I feel my limbs getting heavier. Gravity seems stronger, and I know I am slowing down. For some reason, I miss the mile 8 marker again, and by the time I get to 9 (after a long straight and a short climb) I have added 3 minutes to my per-mile time. The 5 hour pace sign flies past me and into the distance. I am vaguely worried about bonking. I work through two more chews slowly.

At mile nine point something I see a former coworker out in a folding chair, cheering on the runners. She yells out that she can't believe she actually saw me. It bolsters me through to mile ten.

Mile ten is where the two groups diverge. The marathoners head north, while the half marathoners bear to the right, headed back toward downtown. We shout to each other at the intersection, cheering on our respective runs. It occurs to me that I only have 3.1 miles left all of a sudden. Only a 5k to go! Is it even possible that the time has flown by?

It is still hard for me to talk about mile eleven. Wow, did eleven suck! There was a short steep hill at the beginning, I looked to my right and there was a woman next to me. Her look mirrored the way I felt. "It's not as bad as it looks." I tried to reassure us both. She said, "I know it's not. I know it's not." She tried to reassure us both back.

And it wasn't. There were more folks at the top of the hill, and even a kid trying to get runners to take his old TV off the side of the road. "Free, you just have to carry it home!" Several runners laughed and cheered him back. We wound east along Enfield. There was still the 15th street hill coming up. It was hard not to rally, but I knew I had to wait until after that hill. Suddenly behind me, I heard someone calling my name.

Laura and Q came running up from behind me. I have no idea how I passed them. Maybe at a water or bathroom stop... But it was a great break from my worry about the damn hill. We chatted, they looked strong, encouraging. We confirmed our meet-up spot... And then there it was. Looming. I slowed down and said my goodbyes. They powered up the hill and were gone.

That goddamn hill was steep. In reality, it's not that wildly steep or long of a hill, but it came at a point in my run that just hit me like a ton of bricks. I was running so slow, it felt like I was moving in slow motion through hot tar. I looked down, and it felt like the grade was so sharp that I would slide backward if I paused for even a moment. There were people cheering us on from the sidewalk and center divide. We were moving so slowly, they could read our names on our race bibs. Two or three people called me by name, told me to keep going. All my energy was focused on not throwing up. What a terrible way to end the eleventh mile! I was nearly at the top when one of my calves twitched, threatening to cramp up. My feet hadn't hurt the whole race, and now? No way. I checked my heart rate. 196. I kept runnng.

"You're almost there!"
"Chelsea, you look good, you're still running!"
"Great job runners, the top is so close!"
Justdontpukejustdontpukealmosttothetopdontpukedontpukealmostalmostalmost...

Finally, queasy and aching, I crested, and saw more of 15th slowly sloping down and flat in front of me. The 12 mile marker was such a welcomed site! Only a mile to go? I checked my watch for the thousandth time and tried to do the math. It was an impossible equation since I didn't know what the first two miles were like, but it seemed that I was pretty close to a two and a half hour time. How wild would that be? To beat my time by nearly a minute a mile? I wasn't sure I should be harboring such nutty notions with a mile still to go. There is no way I can sprint a mile at all, let alone 12 miles into a race. Plus that damn hill had really kicked my ass.

There were a couple more gradual slopes, the last mile (as they say) was the longest. The Beastie Boys assured me via iPod.

Cause you can't you won't and you don't stop
You can't you won't and you don't stop
You can't you won't and you don't stop

Finally, there was a marker showing only 800 meters left. I felt a twinge in my calf again. I snubbed it. Ignored it completely--if I don't see you, you just might not be there. Just two laps around the track. I promised my legs that I wasn't going to sprint until the last 100 meters.

As I rounded the corner onto Congress the now thick crowd erupted into cheers as a marathoner streamed past us on the other side of the barricade. He had run twice the distance in my time!

400 meters left. The crowd was cheering. My leg was twitching more. Steady as she goes. I was trying to decide when and if I could sprint it in. I was so beat.

200. The finish arch is right in front of me, the once-thick pack has thinned front and back to a handful of us coming in together.

100. I pick up the pace and my calf ripples threateningly. I have a split second vision of me falling down with a crippling charlie horse, barely able to crawl across the finish line. Luckily, in the time it takes to think about it, 50 meters have passed and then... I step across the line.

The announcer reads our names as we cross, I hear people cheering all around me. A volunteer hands me my medal.

My official time: 2:36:11
Average: 11:54/mile
Overall: kick ass

My feet started to cramp up almost immediately after the finish line. By the time I walked back to my car, I was aching all over. Some breakfast tacos, a hot bath, and a long nap later, and I was back in business. When I see the official times, I see that I beat the last race by six minutes, almost exactly 30 seconds faster per mile. With the extra hills, that feels pretty ok.

Thirteen point one, take two: Done and done.

Other People's Poetry (since I am still thinking about who my saints are)

2009-02-11T10:37:00.001-06:00

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

© Mary Oliver. Online Source

25 things about last week

2009-02-09T07:25:00.002-06:00

Yeah, the 25 things thing. It's practically old news by now... But isn't it funny that it's old news 'cause the print media just now picked it up?

In any case, I wanted to jump on the bandwagon (because it is so much less lonely there). And also, I wasn't sure how else to encapsulate last week that wouldn't be totally boring.

1. I bought a multitude of dresses one night because I was very heartbroken.
2. Well, I bought one of the dresses because it was a size small and it fit, the rest were because of heartbrokenness.
3. Oddly enough, after buying all that stuff I didn't need? Still felt crappy. You would think I would have learned that lil chestnut by now.
4. Twice, I had fantastic meals with an engaging companion.
5. I saw Slumdog Millionaire. My friend and I got there so late we had to sit in the very front row. My neck still feels funny, but the movie was as charming as everyone says.
6. I did not see the Wrestler. It is just as well, but I would have rather been at a movie than having my stupid old heart broken for the second time in one week by the same crazy man.
7. Love and I do not see eye to eye. It comes around uninvited, then leaves before dessert. What kind of jerkoff friend is that?
8. While it is true that I fall in love too easily, it is also true that I rarely fall very hard.
9. I don't think I knit a damn stitch all week. I wonder if it's cause I was distracted, hmmm?
10. Running also suffered at the wringing, cold, fingery hands of that rotten tomato, love. I managed to pull off my 7 miler on Sunday, but that was it. The last race is this Sunday, and I cannot blow off my workouts this week or it will kill me.
11. Do I even do yoga anymore?
12. I have two book reviews to write for this here blog, and I have been dragging my feet because I am afraid my book reviews will suck and no one will want to read these two great books.
13. On Friday I quit a decent paying side gig because the tasks required of me felt... sleazy. In a marketing-spam-annoying kind of way, not any other creepy way. But it would have been nice to make that extra money.
14. Something regrettable happened this week in response to all the heartbreak. It might end up really hurting someone else later and I feel just terrible about it. Turns out I can still respond to rejection in pretty immature ways.
15. This whole week I seemed to be repeating patterns I thought I had outgrown. WTF is up with that? It is so fucking frustrating.
16. My friends are predictable.
17. NYC is starting to feel like an impossible goal. I need some of my optimism back, but being crushed over and over sort of knocks it out of you.
18. I am being really melodramatic about my poor heart because Valentine's is coming up, and my "date" has backed out. It is and isn't that big of deal. This guy has broken my heart so many times, it's a wonder I still have any pieces left to care.
19. It is almost time to leave and I still have 5 more to go. This is harder than I thought.
20. Almost every list I have read on Facebook has at least one self-referential item like #19 up there. Now I have two. That's probably about average.
21. One of my biggest fears is being just average.
22. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in a loving, committed relationship. No matter what some jackass says over wine at lunch.
23. Goddamn it, I rock. It pisses me off that in a week I can have all kinds of my confidence shook up over a dumb ass who can't see the tree for the forest.
24. I had to write a poem for my Poetry and Prose class and I really didn't want it to be a love poem. All I ever write are love poems. Dumb ass boys.
25. It was totally a love poem.

Here is something I will be thinking about in the next day or two. Guest blogger, Gareth Branwyn, over at boingboing presents an interesting argument for his own pantheon of saints. It is a fantastic little inspiration, and has my mind roiling. Let's discuss this later in the week, when I am feeling less maudlin.

January run-down

2009-02-04T06:30:00.002-06:00

I am going to knock this out without too much reflection or editing. So bear with my wild comma use.

In January, I had to submit some essays, run a half marathon, have a garage sale, go to NY, and try to get a job. I also did some knitting, a fair bit of reading, and a little bit of work for the college I have been attending. Here's how it went...

Essays - I did submit to three lit mags/websites. But I didn't write very much in January. This is pretty disappointing, and goes to the top of the list for February.

Half marathon - That went surprisingly well, but I already wrote alllll about it. There is one more this month. Then I am not sure what to do fitness wise for the rest of the year. I need some new goals, but so much is in flux, it makes it tough.

Garage sale - Went great. I am hoping to have another, but again, the timing is strange and I am getting weirded out about how much stuff I want to be without before I know where I am going and when.

NY - Well, that was a super fun blast.

I got to hang with my girl, Corrie. See my friends play some music, see some art, eat some really good food and reconnect with one of my all time best friends ever, Catkin.

There were a couple of cute boys, but neither of them were the dates I envisioned. Sometimes that's how things happen, and it is even better.

Job - This is still so up in the air I am trying not to get an ulcer. The meeting in NY went well, but there are just NO openings. I could look other places, but I am not sure I have the energy right now with everything else going on... Maybe that is an indicator of bad priorities or eggs in one basket or something. I don't know. Please, if you have a couple of spare fingers to cross, cross them.

Knitting - There is at least one secret project on deck, a sweater down, one in the hopper, and a couple of scarves and things that are nearing the finish line. There were a couple of NYC gift knits finished:

This is one area that is suffering from scattered brain syndrome.

Reading - I sold the TV at the garage sale, and I miss it. This makes me feel lame, but I am reading a little bit more. What I really need to do is quit trading the former TV time for online time. It's like I just need to zone on unnecessary info for three hours a day. What is up with that? I will be updating my Good Reads reviews this month as well.

Work at the college - Good. It gets me out of the house and on a schedule. The pay is very small, but that is good too... I need to get used to it!

OVERALL... January went by in a blur. February will be the month of purging, hopefully this will clarify some things. My secondary goal for February is to plan my days and weeks better, so I feel like more of the *good* stuff gets done, and less of the crazy stuff.

It feels good to not be a party animal anymore, though it is much more lonesome. My friends here only like to go out... and now that I am in, well... It's me and the cats most nights. This is a huge drag for me. I would love to make a dinner and have a person or three drop by to talk and drink wine and play dominoes or something. Reason 34 why I hope this move to NYC works out. I can start over, and surround myself with people more supportive of my goals (and vice versa).

On to February!

Published!

2009-02-02T13:55:00.002-06:00

One of the submissions for January made it into (digital) print!

I have added a new lil sidebar over to the right--since I hope to have many more published credits. In the meantime, if you want to read my essay, just click: The Loneliness of the (Slow) Long Distance Runner.

More on my super fun trip to NYC last weekend in the next day or so.

3M half-marathon: Race report

2009-01-26T17:57:00.007-06:00

Also known as "Is she going to bitch about her foot for thirteen miles? Yes, she is."

It was a dark and chilly morning...

Actually, scratch that. It was cold as hell. Granted, this is Texas, and we are all kind of pussies about the cold. Just come and see us power through a hill workout in 100+ degree weather in August before you hold it too much against us. The human body can acclimate like a mother, can't it?

I met up with my team mates at 5:45 am at Rogue headquarters.

[I apparently have the biggest head on the team. No comment.]

The race is a one-way downhill slalom from the beginnings of "way up North Austin" down to Waterloo Park in downtown. The route sort of looks like a lightening bolt, and it's billed as the fastest half-marathon in town. We met at headquarters so we could carpool up to the start.

Our wise coaches recommended that we get there by 6 am so that we could find parking, and as with just about everything else, they were right on the money. We parked with no problem and headed over to the support tents. Did I mention it was cold? The rumor had it just under 40 degrees. The good news was that it wasn't supposed to warm up too much (so we wouldn't be over-dressed while running) the bad news... was that it wasn't supposed to warm up too much.

I dropped off a bag with an extra sweatshirt at one of the drop off vans and we made several trips to the porta-johns (and the bushes once the line got too long) before we headed over to the Rogue coaches for our pre-race warm up. They were recommending a one mile warm up. Before the HALF MARATHON. Ugh. We begrudgingly started to jog, and we all had to admit, we were stiff and probably in need of a warm up, though we cut it short at maybe three-quarters round trip. Our little group was in high spirits and there were many attempts to take group shots with cell phones... Some more successful than others.

[This is about the time we named our group "los huevos rancheros"]

[Back row: Joe, Kate, Winnie; Front row: me, Laura, Jen]

[We are crazy from brain freeze!]

It has come up in every report, but having some team mates makes all the difference. Because of the fasciitis, I was pretty nervous in the back of my mind. But with all the carrying on and people peeing in bushes, it was just too good of a time to be too worried.

Most races have signs with paces on them, and you "seed" yourself in with the rest of your pace group. We couldn't see any such signs except for one dude carrying what looked like a homemade sign that said "2:00". It was going to take us a bit longer than that, so we bunched in a bit behind him. We were pretty far back.

Once the horn sounded, there was enough of a bend in the road that we could see the front of the pack take off... They were FAST! Suddenly, it felt good to be a bit toward the back. As the moving column of people crept toward us, the pace got a bit more manageable, and by the time we were moving, it was downright acceptable.

It is hard not to get carried away by the flow of people and start off too fast. The coaches told us over and over to start slow, but the excitement, the loudspeakers playing Eye of the Tiger, the spectators cheering and it is almost impossible to not leap into high gear. Luckily the Huevos kept each other in check (except for Joe, who all the time is trying to set a new land speed).

With the first few steps, my foot started to hurt a little. Just a bit, on the outside edge, where one's footprint makes a sort of land bridge between the meaty ball-sprouting toes and the comma-shaped heel. It just felt.. tight. I practiced stretching my toes out inside my shoe. I sent relaxing waves of thought down my leg to try and smooth out any knots in the muscle. I willed it to stop hurting. But mostly, I kept running.

The last time we did a long run my little iPod shuffle died about 3 miles from the end. My tactic this morning was to not turn it on until after we passed mile three. This was pretty easy because several of the Huevos kept up a good chatter. We first split up after the first aid station. A couple of the team got in line for the bathroom, a couple more just went behind a short wall and I (the slowest by about a half minute per mile) kept going after a quick drink of water and some vigorous calf stretches.

I caught up with Joe and Kate about a quarter mile later and we chatted for a bit. I confessed to them that my foot was sort of hurting you know, just a little, but that the stretches helped. Kate recommended not thinking about it, which seemed wise, if impossible. I cranked on the 'Pod just after they sped off. I wouldn't see Winnie and Laura and Jen again until just before mile seven.

It was a cold morning, thankfully not a windy one. It was kind of cool to enjoy the sensation of being able to run. A year ago, running took every ounce of effort I had: within minutes I would be gasping raggedly for breath and my heartrate would be skimming 200 bpm. Here I was able to breathe normally, and still move, my HR was hovering around 174 (for me this is a sustainable level of hard effort). When I passed the mile 5 marker, I did some quick math and realized I was running well under a 12 minute mile.

My training has been sort of up and down. I had missed the last two time trials where we were supposed to be shocked and amazed at our awesome improvement. Because of the trip to Phoenix and the dumb foot, I had missed several quality workouts, and because of general laziness or unemployment-induced depression I hadn't been running as often on my own as our coaches recommended. My first time trial pace had me running just under a 13 minute mile for the race, and in my long runs I rarely seemed able to do better than 13:15/mile. And yet, here I was 5 miles in and my watch showed my mile to be around 11:45. I was a bit worried that I would bonk before the end, so I slowed the pace a bit after the mile 6 water stop.

Mile seven was a long one. My foot was really starting to complain. The last stretch stop had only eased the cramping for about 3 minutes. The only good thing was that the pain was in my arch this time and not my heel. The heel pain had been excruciating with each step. In my arch, it just felt like an impending charlie horse that never quite fully seized. As I ran, I thought of different metaphors to describe the sensation in my foot. Then I focused my attention on my calf, where the problem starts like glacial headwaters, and tried to warm the cold muscles with my mind.

I had to slow down a bit more. I ate most of a Gu around mile seven point something and that helped my spirits a bit (it was a chocolate-honey flavored one, note to self). But the mile 8 marker was taking forever to show up. I was doing math trying to calculate how much time my slower pace was taking, but the marker wasn't anywhere to be found. Finally I could see the white sign up the block, I glanced at my watch and did some math... I was back to my 13 point something pace, not great but not horrible... until I got close enough to read the sign.

MILE 9! That was the second to the best moment the whole race. I hadn't lost as much time as I had thought, AND I had managed to lose a whole mile. There were only 4 miles left! I could do 4 miles no problem! I have run four miles a couple times a week for the past month!

Somewhere around this point is when the other Huevos caught up with me. My foot was so bad that I didn't stick with them for long. Winnie had taken off her pink ear warmer and it was looped around some of her gear, knotted at her back. I kept sight of it for a while, using her as a pink-tailed rabbit up ahead, but I just wasn't able to run quite as fast as I felt like I could. It was frustrating.

By the mile ten water stop, I was pretty beat. I stretched out my calves as much as I could. I paused long enough for two cups of water. I stretched some more. At about this point I passed a woman who was walking with an exaggerated limp, lifting one leg and swinging it out and around to the front to take each step. She still had 3 miles to go, but she was going to finish. I did some more math and figured out that if I kept a decent pace, I could finish just at 2:45.

The last three miles were almost entirely downhill. While that was easier on my hips and back, it was murder on my foot. But we were running through residential neighborhoods and more and more people were out in their yards cheering us on, high fiving runners, telling us how great we looked and how close we were to the finish. It carried me down the hill to the UT campus.

The last mile and a half through campus was quiet. No spectators, and there at the back of the pack, many of us were laboring. My mind was alternating between sending relax-or-else brainwaves to my foot and making deals about how much would it hurt to sprint the finish, and how many yards of sprint did I have in me anyway? When we rounded the corner onto Trinity street, I thought I could see some barricades a few blocks up ahead. About 30 seconds later, I realized it was the finish line.

OHHHH! I actually said it out loud. A woman behind me said, "I heard that, its the finish, isn't it? Girl, there are only FOUR BLOCKS LEFT."

I knew I couldn't sprint four blocks, but I did pick up the pace. I looked at my watch, 2:38. About a block away, I saw one of my coaches. She has been so caring and generous and just amazing that I screamed out her name as I raised up my arms. She came running into the road and hugged me and jumped up and down as we spun a bit. As I let go, I started to sprint. I heard her yell "FINISH STRONG!" And that is exactly what I did.

[Official time: 2:42:28 -- average pace: 12:24/mi]

The immediate seconds after a finish are a little disappointing (much like any other major rush). A friend was going to meet me at the finish line but (we later realized) he got there one minute too late because I was sure my foot would slow me down so much that my finish time would be close to 3 hours if not over. I wandered over to claim my gear from the truck and started heading toward the pre-determined meeting spot with the other Huevos.

We walked back to Rogue slowly, comparing our many aches and pains. I wobbled on my foot a few times, not able to find a step that didn't increase the cramping sensation. It felt like my foot wanted to curl together at the ends like one of those red plastic fortune-telling fish. I called my friend and we realized how close the miss was (but that's become something of a tradition, so I am glad he was able to uphold it). He met us back at HQ and snapped a quick post race team shot.

[Rogue Running: We run the Eastside]

Later, I had some traditional chicken-fried chicken (at Hoover's, Stalker-Michael, where you and I ate after the Dilloman triathlon, remember?). It was damn good. And then I went home and slept for what felt like a week.

Thirteen-point-one, done and done.

Let this be a lesson to me and anyone else who needs it: Nothing is too hard if you really want it. Nothing at all.

The Countdown begins...

2009-01-23T11:29:00.003-06:00

First things first, YES WE CAN! I am trying not to be TOO swoony and hopeful and crushy on the new Pres, but sheesh. How good does it feel to finally have the reign of error over?

Also, the garage sale was a smash hit. I made quite a bit more than expected.

On Sunday, I will be trying to finish this. For you kids at home keeping score, that is 13.1 miles.

My chiropractor and sports injury doctor seems to think that I can do it... Though he doesn't guarantee a pain-free finish. I have been able to do a couple of short runs pain free, so think good thoughts Sunday morning at 7 a.m. CST.

In other news, I got a haircut. It is so much crazy different that I am still trying to decide if I love or hate it. But I wanted a change, and that is definitely what I got!

Before

After!

That's all I can deal with today. I have a race to prep for, a trip to NYC to plot, and an essay to finish and submit to round out my 3 for the month.

Have a great weekend everyone!

in progress

2009-01-16T21:06:00.002-06:00

so many things are in progress... i have submitted one (of my three) essays to a running website, and have another to submit ready and waiting.

tomorrow i am having a garage sale.

i am 5 lbs closer to march's goal (woo!)

the first half marathon is next (not this) sunday. i am pretty jittery.

at the end of the month, i hope to convince my former employer to hire me back (in NYC)... and have at least one nice date with a cute boy while i am up there.

knitting-wise, i am working on a vest from fitted knits

and a lil scarf and hat set for the trip later this month:

everyone cross your fingers that at least a few of these life WIPs turn out ok!

May I present... CORALINE

2009-01-13T01:40:00.002-06:00

How I love this sweater. I would sleep in it, were it at all feasible.

Yarn: Elann's Quecha Alpaca / Tencel blend
Pattern: Ysolde Teague's Coraline
Ravelry link: Carmine Coraline

Mods
For once I didn't change anything. I was too nervous about all the little details: i-cord, knit-on-hem, that smocking! After talking it over with a friend of mine, all I did change my preconceptions...

First, because I (cough cough) didn't wash my swatch, I relied on her experience to know that the Quecha doesn't grow as much as 100% Alpaca. So I lengthened the sleeves and body a bit from my original plan. And I am so glad I did! For once, I think I got both lengths just right for me.

She had also warned me about the neck being too tight after the short-row shaping. This is likely an issue in the smaller sizes only. I completed all of the short-rows and don't feel like I am being choked when I button all the buttons.

What I loved most about this project
Pretty much the finished product! I mean, size 4s was No Fun, and that smocking stitch? Forget it! I could not speed that thing up for anything! Luckily the real fiddly row is only every 6 rows in the yoke.

I love how the alpaca drapes, I love the clean look of the hem and the way the I-cord finished off all of the edges so neatly. I love the cute lil sewn on button loops. And even though I am going to have to rethink my love of yoked sweaters, because I have decent shoulders and I think they get lost in this shape, I love that cool-ass honeycombed yoke texture.

What I would do differently next time
Oh man. Such a conundrum! How boring is endless stockinette on size 4 needles? Did I mention, they were size four? But I love the finished sweater to pieces. TO PIECES. I am working on a chunkier knit right now, to see if I like bulky still. Fingers crossed that I do, cause it is going So. Much. Faster.

Fascism and why I am glad I have a ridiculously large stash of yarn.

2009-01-10T13:49:00.003-06:00

OK, not really FASCISM. More like, fasciitism.

Specifically, plantar fasciitis in my left foot. It flared up, or came on, or whatever you call it right after my 14 mile run last weekend. Yeah, I ran 14 miles last weekend... all at once. And then my foot revolted and placed a dictator in charge. This new little foot czar is apparently opposed to my health and well-being, because he puts an immediate stop to even walking for much more than a block. Supposedly, with stretching and proper care, I may still be able to run the half marathon at the end of the month. My fingers are crossed, as are my (elevated) toes.

**********

Sneak peek:

[the finished Coraline, reclining on the blocking towel... she is gorgeous!]

**********

In other, less depressing news, I have fallen back in love with my stash.

Remember how everyone was so embarrassed to flash their stashes, way back when? All the talk of, what am I hoarding all this yarn for? This is a sickness, who needs all this yarn? Am I stashing for the zombie Armageddon or what? Well, if you still don't know why you are hoarding yarn in unbelievable quantities, I will tell you.

UNEMPLOYMENT

That's right, I am covered. No need to freak out, here! I have so much fantastic yarn stashed up that my knitting will not suffer through these trying economic times. I may have to cut out cable and netflix and brand name soup and even [gasp] my Interweave subscription... but yarn, I have got! Good yarn, beautiful yarn, abundant, wonderful yarn.

In fact, while my newest sweater (I love her sooooo much, and can't wait to put together an official photo shoot) was blocking, I started a quicker knit with yarn from the stash.

It's the Back-to-School U-neck sweater vest (ravelry link) from Stephanie Japel's Fitted Knits: 25 Projects for the Fashionable Knitter. I am using this fantastic angora/wool/polymide blend that I found somewhere online while I still lived in Maryland. I have enough for this vest, and possibly a cardigan in the brown, and also have enough in a denim-y blue tweed for a pullover. It is creating a soft, firm fabric so far, which should work well with the corset-like style of the vest. And after working on Coraline with size 4 needles, this lil number on 7s is flying right along.

While digging through those plastic bins, looking for the perfect yarn for a sweater vest, I came across so many awesome potential projects. Socks, hats, scarves, shawls, mittens, and so many sweaters... And even fiber! I have a whole bin of lovely hand-dyed merino blends to spin up and make even more socks and hats and scarves and maybe even a sweater. It felt so great to know that I had managed to save something in quantities appropriate for surviving the recession (lord knows I didn't stash money away like I did fiber).

So be proud of your stash... Unlike a 401k or your stock portfolio, it will not lose value based on the price per barrel of oil. If your bank fails, your knitting will not need a federal bailout. Even though I barely have two nickels available for rubbing together, I can make beautiful new luxurious sweaters and socks. And that, my friends, is a very good feeling.

And once I am on the other side of this thing, this... restructuring of my life, I am going to try to remember this feeling. I could have saved more money than I did; we all could have. It would be nice to feel the same sense of relief when I look at my finances as I did when digging through the abundance of those bins.

My syndrome

2009-01-03T10:41:00.000-06:00

Back when the blog ring used to *work* this blog was right after Stephanie's and I used to get a TON of incidental traffic of hers. Since we were neighbors, I was only a little nervous about introducing myself to her at my first Rhinebeck, back in 2004.

I think I walked up to her and stuttered out something dorky like "Hi, Stephanie... My name is Chelsea, and we're next-door neighbors in the blog ring." The first thing she did was take hold of one of my hands and say, "They look perfectly normal sized to me. In fact, mine might even be smaller." (My non-blogging friend didn't get how cool that was at all.)

Steph was totally right, though. Hers are smaller.

She's not the only one wondering, though. Two phrases turn up quite often in my keyword search results.

"I have small hands"
"small hands syndrome"

And then today, one of my favorites: "Most successful people have small hands."

A quick search of my own on the first two phrases revealed a surprising number of forum posts pleading for help finding everything from guitars and video consoles to gloves and cutlery that will comfortably accommodate the very tiny handed. And more syndromes than I would have guessed with "small hands" as an indicator.

It is true that my blog title doesn't come from the actual size of my hands, per se. Though I would challenge anyone who knows me to call them large.

****

For a long time, my hands and my eyes were the only parts of my body at which I didn't take overt offense. Everything else seemed constructed specifically to not work as designed.

In high school, when I formed the majority of my opinions about my body, I had way too much in the way of eyebrows, but not enough bangs. I had too much cleavage and no waist whatsoever. My feet were stubborn malcontents, stumbling and tripping me through gym class without a thought for my feelings. While my mouth... First off, my mouth held what I had always considered my absolute worst feature (crooked hillbilly teeth that yellowed at the mention of coffee or cigarettes) and secondly... let's just say that my mouth got me in to way more trouble than it ever got me out of.

But my hands were always graceful and soft and if I dared say so, somewhat creamy. My nails were bitten down to the quick until sometime in college, but even that couldn't take away from a certain poise that I found in my hands. Mornings at the Heathman Bakery and Pub in Portland I would draw my left hand with my right while waiting for my first class at art school.

It wasn't until a few years ago that I learned to touch-type and was able to add one more useful skill to my hands' repertoire. They can draw, crochet, sew, knit, massage, scratch, knead, apply some deadly eye-makeup, and unknot or retie many things. I have always admired that about them.

Since I have been varying degrees of overweight (from curvy to fat and back again more than once) for a lot of my life, liking my hands was safe. While I mentioned my eyes earlier, they were a double edged feature. When you are a fat girl you don't usually want to hear how pretty your eyes are or what a nice smile you have. You are only too aware of the implied "if only" that lies like a rattlesnake behind those sorts of compliments. Secretly, I could rely on my fingers to always be long and thin, even if I never would be.

It sometimes felt like a small thing, to like my hands, when held up against all that I didn't like about myself. But it was still important, even though I never considered them pretty, exactly. What they were--and are--is graceful, and skilled, and subtle. All things I have always wished to embody.

****

Some time around high school age, I started going through my mom's few books of poetry. One stood out: 100 Poems by E. E. Cummings (he prefered it capitalized, you doubters can Google it).

I have read and reread my mother's copy so many times that the binding is cracked and several of the dog-ears that mark my favorites have come unhinged and fallen completely from their original pages.

His poem, Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond was the inspiration for my blog title. It isn't my favorite among his poems, but the last stanza is one of my all-time favorite sentiments of love.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

And there it is.

****

Now it seems really appropriate to go all maudlin, and end this thing choking up a little, with a bit about how now I finally love all of me. Or some promise to like the rest of me as unconditionally. Yeah, right. That will always be a process, one that I sometimes feel ahead of and sometimes feel behind.

Anyway this post wasn't about that. That isn't what I meant at all. It was just about my hands. And my blog title.

Day 2, how's everyone doing?

2009-01-02T18:08:00.002-06:00

Well... My life hasn't completely turned around yet. But I really am trying to have a better attitude. That has to count for something, right?

I am just so sick and tired of being too depressed to get up at a reasonable hour or accomplish anything productive in a day. Being offered a job would be nice (happened today) if it was even equal to what unemployment is paying. Damn economy.

Today I ran 4 miles, had two job interviews, and got a bit re-invigorated about ferreting out some freelance work. And now I am even writing a little. These are things I should be proud of and happy about, so I am going to go with that.

In other news, New Year's Eve was as drunk and debaucherous as one may have expected:

[It is never a good sign when the cigar smoking starts]

And last night, a few folks ventured over to Rachel's place to have a little Arts n Drafts field trip. We got to hear some lovely music, eat some tasty snacks, and get our craft on:

[Ellen's dad plays us some tunes on an instrument he made himself]

[Rachel and Alysha watch the impromptu concert]

[Mimi's saucy needlepoint]

[Ellen making a book]

[I have started the smock stitches on my Coraline... the end is near]

Thank you for your positive feedback on my goals. I am about to go get a lil office supply action to help track and reach them... If you are writing your own 12 goals for 2009, I would love to see them.

Resolution brainstorming

2008-12-30T10:02:00.003-06:00

Tis the season to start dwelling on the things we could have done better last year, and the things we will change in the next. I have been thinking about my past resolutions for a couple of days now. Some of them succeeded, some did not.

The notable stand outs were quitting smoking in 2003, finishing a triathlon in 2006, and losing a bunch of weight last year. The thing they both had in common was that I had support for them.

For quitting smoking I used Quitnet. Which I have bragged about before. I logged in today and learned, since my quit date (January 22, 2003) and based on the number of cigarettes I smoked before I quit (at 2003 prices):

Time Smoke-Free: 2169 days, 3 hours, 8 minutes and 16 seconds
Cigarettes NOT smoked: 43383
Lifetime Saved: 11 months, 1 day, 9 hours
Money Saved: $8,350.65

I joined a training group with two good friends of mine to finish the tri, and three years and a total of 6 triathlons later, I have to definitely count that one a success.

To lose the weight, I joined Weight Watchers. It seemed so cheesy and dorky at first. Not that I am so cool or anything, there is just something embarrassing about saying it. Remember how it used to be when you said you bought a piece of clothing from Target? You could tell some people but not others? Anyway... I digress. The point is, that WW helped me lose 40 lbs last year, and I only have about 20 to go. So I am glad I did.

So, for me the answer is accountability and community. I have been thinking about a "resolution buddy" idea. Just like a secret pal or workout partner, this person would know what my resolutions are and why, and remind me from time to time. Or be an ear if they aren't going well, or a megaphone to help shout out my successes. Is this a crazy idea?

I have also decided to create 12 resolutions, one for each month of next year. That way, I can take things in smaller chunks. And like Project Spectrum, or Sock of the Month clubs, it will keep things fresh and moving forward.

If you care to join me, give a mention in the comments. Maybe we can create some resolution-buddies and some goals for the year together. If anyone else wants to try the goal-a-month, maybe we could swap buddies each month?

Here's my list (so far):
January - Submit 3 essays to lit mags/writing contests
February - Major Purge (this includes a garage sale or two, and donating the rest)
March - Those last 20 lbs
April - Move to NYC
May - Take GRE for grad school application
June - Summer Spanish class
July - Summer dance class
August - Roadtrip
September - Holiday knitting!
October - Cut debt by half or more (less than 5000 owed)
November - Write 5 handwritten letters to friends
December - Apply to grad school

Non-knitting FO

2008-12-23T12:42:00.002-06:00

I am having a tough week. I'll leave it at that.

In the meantime, that sewing machine I got for xmas LAST YEAR finally got busted out, and I can safely say that I have added a new craft (or an old craft, newly revisited) to the repertoire.

[fabric closeup: space, flannel, blues... what more could you want?]

[cutting out the pattern]

[stitching that shizz UP]

[dancin in my new Spaceman Spiff pajama pants]

Today will be another homebound day. I am going to try to bake some bread and sew some PJ shorts from this cool polka-dot fabric I got last year as well.

I hope everyone out there has a great holiday or day of peace, whichever you prefer this week. xoxo c

A sleeve!

2008-12-20T23:58:00.006-06:00

Yeah, that's right... days and days of knitting, and I have a sleeve to show for it.

Here's a close up:

(teeny tiny little stitches)

The nice thing is that I have nothing better to do than sit on the couch and work on Coraline. The unfortunate thing is that I have no motivation to do anything but sit on the couch and knit on Coraline.

So far, in addition to one full sleeve, I also have about 6 inches of body and about six inches of sleeve number two. I have been working the body and sleeves as alternating balls (*finish a ball on the body, work a ball on a sleeve** repeat from * to ** overandoverandover). This breaks up the monotony of endless inches of carmine stockinette on size 4 needles. I cannot WAIT for the smocking!

Today I went to see Bolt to cheer me up (it did) and got home to find that The Killing Fields had shown up from Netflix. I have no idea why in the world I ever put that in my queue. Needless to say, the movies sort of canceled each other out, and now I am back to slightly bummed. Tomorrow may be a day for a My Name is Earl DVD marathon.

Hope those of you who can are enjoying the snow!

Some underreported FOs

2008-12-17T15:43:00.003-06:00

In October I went on several trips. I went to watch one of my best friends get married in Vegas, I went to NYC to meet with friends and go to Rhinebeck, then I turned around and went right back for Halloween with a really good friend from college.

Then, on November 4th, when everyone was voting, my Stepdad's heart stopped while he was in line at his polling place in Phoenix, AZ. He was resuscitated after nearly an hour. I flew to Phoenix that afternoon and spent the next three days with my mom and sister in the ICU while he was completely unconscious. I would be there for a total of nearly 2 weeks while he drifted in and out of heavy sedation. We weren't sure if he even knew who he was.

He is better now. Still in ICU, but in the process of rehabilitation. I got to talk to him on the phone last week, which was pretty amazing. He won't be home in time for Christmas, which really breaks my heart for my mom.

Anyway, needless to say, while I was knitting, I wasn't really blogging. So here are some things I got done in October and November:

I finished another Queen Anne's on the way to NYC and gave it to my girl Corrie. This one is out of Colinette Fandango, one skein.

Yet another Queen Anne, this one for my mom on the flight to Phoenix. Out of another skein of Fandango from the stash.

While in ICU for days and days, I finished the diagonal crocheted blanket that has been lingering for YEARS

And I made some pretty good progress on some lovely green socks.

Currently, I am throwing all that my sniffly, sneezy, coughing, aching, self has into finishing another sweater. Coraline. On size 4s... I mean, really?!

(This is the body, luckily knit all in one piece. I am almost done with one sleeve as well... after THREE DAYS stuck on the couch. Sheesh!)

Still no job. Still want to move to NYC, though... I won't even say it. I just hope I find some good work soon. Think good thoughts!

Finished object!

2008-12-12T16:08:00.002-06:00

The stashbuster, she is complete.

Pattern: Made up as I went along, with initial guidance from Knitgrrl on the knitting cruise back in...awhile ago. It's a basic top down raglan.
Yarns: from the stash... some Brooks Primero, Blue Sky Alpaca alpaca dk, Rowan Kid Classic, Patons wool
Ravelry link

What I liked
Using up all this stash AND making a sweater I actually like. The fit is nice, it buttons and it is sooooft. Plus all the dreamy gray blues make me melancholy in the best possible way.

What I would do differently
The neck is a bit high. This will take some muddling through. Also, just adding stripes and fair isle rows using my scientific method of "whenever" resulted in a few stripe situations that I would do differently were I too again... but overall, doubleplusgood.

Things have been rather ooky around here lately. I am trying to stay optimistic, but the news abroad and in my own living room just isn't the best, you know? Add to that, the process of "lightening" my load of possessions is a slow and sometimes difficult one. But this is part of why I want to make such a drastic move. I am drowning in things, and they have failed to make me happy. OK, except for my iPod and my biker boots. But other than that, what's it all worth? (Nothing if you ask the jerks on craigslist.) Anyway. Enough whining, I am trying to enjoy my new wooly. Next up for my almost undivided attention: Coraline!

Sunday, sunday: an FO, some lurid pics, and plans

2008-10-26T13:37:00.002-05:00

Here is a little mini-FO. I was so enamored with all of the Queen Anne's Lace scarves at Rhinebeck, I had to have one. I grabbed the yarn from The Fold, it's a Socks That Rock colorway in a worsted weight! It took me a mere day to knock this baby out, and I love it.

Queen Anne's Lace scarf

(Sorry for the craptacular pics, the camera batteries were dead... so this is me blackberrying it up)

Pattern
1craftyboy's free pattern here: Queen Anne's Lace scarf
Yarn
Socks that Rock Twisted (color: Jubilation)
Ravelry link

Mods
I had some trouble deciding how I wanted to attach each motif together (you attach as you go in the pattern). If you anchor each new motif to TWO other motifs, you get the scarf that is pictured in the patterns all over... It is very flat and stable. Since I was using a smaller needle than most folks did, that made my scarf sort of stiff. So I experimented and every now and then attached a few motifs to just the one below it. This makes the scarf a bit more "twisty." I really like the finished product and had to stop myself from making about eleventy-two of these.

(close up of the groovy flowery motifs)

What I liked about this project
Um, hi? One day to multicolored scarfy goodness? I AM IN. Plus the flowery shapes are spared from overcuteness somehow, and I REALLY dig that.

What would I do differently
Next time I will use a bigger needle and attach them all as written. OR I will use the same needle and attach them all loosely and make like two strings that you wear together. Or something like that. I might even just not change a damn thing.

(the scarf only used up a smidge... I have plans for the rest!)

********************************
Austin's own Erotic Carnival
On Friday, I went to watch my pals Mr. Lewis and the Funeral Five play at Austin's Erotic Carnival (here's a blurb on last year's event). Not as fantastically costumy as I had hoped, but we had fun.

(Myself with two of the boys in the band. Good times!)

(Shannon with our buddy, Ruby Lamb, the burlesque dancer.)

(She was hula-hooping... with FIRE!)

(I don't know what they are dressed as, but I love how they camped up for the camera.)

(We make a sassy 6-pack!)

(The six pack comes in more than one flavor.)

*************************
I am moving to NYC

...In about 6 months. It is very exciting, and has given me a nice shot of get-your-shit-together. Before I move there, I am going back for one more fun trip (Halloween!), to hang out with one of my best college friends, Corrie. More on this as it develops. But, hooray!

X-ray of a kiss

2008-10-24T01:37:00.001-05:00

Tell me this is not fantastic... I dare you.

From Geekologie

Secret Garden Vest: overdue FO report

2008-10-23T23:45:00.000-05:00

I finished this baby as part of the Ravelympics... Wow, remember how long ago that was? There is an amazing phenomenon whereby time both stretches and compresses depending on one's situation, and a really amazing book by Stephen King and Barbara Krueger that beautifully addresses it. It's called My Pretty Pony, and if you ever find a copy of it in the wild for less than $75, snap it up.

Anyway, back to the FO. As with all of my other WIPs from long ago, this one came out a bit large. But lucky for me, I made some miscalculations initially, and it wasn't as big as some of the others (cough, tropical t, cough).

Pattern:
White Lies Designs Secret Garden Vest
Yarn:
Ella Rae Shibu / Rowan RYC Natural Silk Aran

Ravelry Link

Mods
I went from a chunky gauge down to a worsted. I dropped a couple of needle sizes as well. The gauge worked for the yarn, but thank god I lost weight or this thing NEVER would have buttoned>

(Great buttons, and can you see the short rows? So camouflaged!)

What I loved about this pattern
Hi, Feather and fan? Easiest lace to remember ever. Also, this was knit in the round up to the arms: No seaming! Easy as hell. If I would have just had the merest trifling focus, it would have been done in minutes.

What I would do differently next time
Two things, one... designers. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE! If there are decreases in a lace pattern, could you PLEASE write those out? Especially if there are going to be two different decreases... like say, a right and left V-neck front? PLEASE?!

The V-neck ended up sort of rounded and a bit too wonky for my taste. I had to do the first front over a couple of times, but then the second was easier. Am I just a moron? Should I be able to decrease in pattern, all smooth like, in my head? Am I asking too much? Sigh.

And second, when will I learn to stop knitting myself these maw-maw patterns? I mean the green is lovely and makes my eyes practically pop right off of my face they go so well together. And the two yarns worked together smashingly (they were both the last couple of balls in stock at Woolwinders, neither enough for the whole vest, so I added the stripes). The buttons are even perfect. But, I can't for the life of me figure out what to wear with it. Thoughts?

The Rhinebeck post

2008-10-21T23:43:00.004-05:00

I am still too overstimulated from the last two weeks to write a proper post. Maybe it will become a little essay, like the Coney Island bit. Instead, here are just the galleries...

The first two days were spent with my friend Ylon. We did Coney Island and met up with a couple of friends of mine for drinks.

slideshow

The next two days were spent Rhinebeckin it up. I rode up with Vibegrrl, Mayarn, and Mr. Mayarn. They were all fun and funny. We hung out with the rest of Team Rav for much of the time and helped out Jess and Casey as we could. We shopped, too.

slideshow

I don't have stash acquisition pics yet, but so far the clear favorite for me was Punta Yarns Mericash Thousand Colors twist. Maya and I both grabbed some of this and Lara got a bulkier version. So beautiful! The colors are almost hypnotic.

The last day, the Beetle gang headed back to Brooklyn after stopping at an insane grocery store. We spent a couple of hours in the Botanical Garden before Lara and I began the hell drive to the Newark airport.

slideshow

I am already planning another trip to NYC to hang w/ my girl and do some Halloween carousing...

Coney Island Idyll [excerpt]

2008-10-20T16:55:00.016-05:00

(Note: this post is not about Rhinebeck. That will probably happen tomorrow or the next day, patience please, grasshoppers! Instead, it is about a bit of my day in NYC before I left for Rhinebeck.)

I am watching the ground and stepping carefully across the bleached boardwalk slats. My cute pumps have turned out to be a poor footwear choice, but the way the boards have separated from each other over the years leaving black empty spaces just as wide as a high heel was impossible to pre-visualize. My friend Y has admonished my shoe choice twice now, as I appear to be concentrating too hard on the ground and not enough on the Coney Island sights around me. I think I am taking in more than it would appear: we of the high heel-wearing variety are often stepping carefully with one eye on the terrain and one on the horizon.

He points to a concrete shelter between the boardwalk and beach sand that has a high curved roof on top of four heavy, angled supports. Under the roof are several fixed picnic tables.

"These are the old man huts." He points to the men, huddled at the tables, hunched over chess boards, card games, and backgammon. Down the boardwalk are several more such shelters each filled with men crowded like dark pigeons at bread crumbs. More chess players can be seen at the table-less benches on the other side of the wide wooden walkway. These are the late comers, presumably, who couldn't find space in one of the huts. We stop and lean over a couple of games. I want to take a picture but I sense it would be a trespass. The old women gossip at separate benches behind giant sunglasses, swaddled in bright head scarves and bulky coats.

The walk down the weathered boardwalk is near the end of our afternoon adventure. We had started out at the soon to be extinct, but still carnival-bright entrance to the Coney Island rides and games that Y enjoyed as a kid. I am the inquisitive tourist taking pictures of everything, he is the indulgent guide.

write write write

2008-09-19T16:03:00.002-05:00

I have been. Writing, that is. Just not here. A buddy and I set up a little creative writing blog elsewhere... I will double post any knitting related stuff here. Anyone have any leads for submissions? I would love to try my hand at some periodical pieces.

I am also knitting. I have a finished vest to show off, and am working on a lil lace scarf pattern that should be posted next week. There will be a poll when it is ready about whether or not I should charge for it... I *am* broke after all, but I will want your opinion on whether it is worth a bit of cheese or not. So stay tuned.

In the meantime, I want to leave you with this really excellent video from Gnarls Barkley. They will be performing at ACL fest next weekend. I bought my 3 day pass before the lay off, so YAY.

Not only is it an excellent video: both idea and execution, but it also makes me sad in all the best ways.

Sweet & Twisted Tri - Race Report

2008-08-25T20:43:00.005-05:00

First things first, this will not be a joyous celebratory essay. Yesterday's race was horrible in more ways than just my overall place. Now that I have seen the actual stats, I know that none of the segments were the longest from my personal record, but this race beat me like no other.

A couple of things I learned: drinking in smoky clubs in the week before a race and smoking a gift cigar or two is probably ill-advised. But most importantly: attitude really IS everything.

4:45 am
I start out the day with the obligatory peanut butter and english muffin and then took the WORST pre-race picture ever. Hello, Squinty McPufferton!

Amy and I headed over to Pace Bend park where we were not as early as we thought. We got two spots side by side on an end (instead of two end spots).

[She is Felix, I am Oscar]

6:30 am
As usual, I forgot a flashlight, but remembered everything else. Transition was set up without too much of a hitch and I saw several Rogue team mates. As I mentioned in the last report, seeing folks there and excited makes such a difference; I was surely glad to see their smiling faces.

[Amy and I, before transition closed]

[Carol, bringing grace and flair to the DNF]

I tried to get a shot of all of the women bustling to set up their transitions, but instead got this strange shot:

Amy and I made jokes about how we would tell the grandkids that back in OUR day, we did Texas Triathlons in the snow. Later, I would be convinced that I had photographed the actual mold spores that filled the hot, humid air and my poor, tired lungs.

7:45 am
The best part of the pre-race meeting was the overheard remark, "Haha, I thought he said there's going to be a mountain lion at bike out!"

***

Oh Pace Bend Park, how I hate hate hate races on your shores! Just like the miserable Dilloman of 2006, the water level was so low that we had to set up a little shoe transition at the bottom of a long rocky hill. This time, however, we at least got a standing start-- no treading water for 5 minutes waiting for the horn to sound.

At this point, it seems important to discuss my mental state for this race. In a word, it was "fucked." I had my recent lay off on my mind, some weird boy stuff, and the lack of a single one of my friends on the sidelines to cheer me on (not even the one STAYING AT MY HOUSE ALL WEEK). Still, I didn't feel anxious or panicked on the surface. Maybe if I had, I would have taken more specific action to remedy it. Instead, this unresolved negativity would be my race companion for the rest of the day.

***

My tri buddy, Amy, hates the swim the way I hate the bike ride. While waiting for my wave to queue up, we talked about how wrong it was to spend a whole leg saying to our selves "I hate this. I hate this. I hate this." So, I spent a few moments brainstorming things about the swim that would rock.

THINGS ABOUT THE SWIM ON SUNDAY THAT WOULD ROCK:

It will be a great all body warm up.
The water doesn't taste like goat ass.
The water is not cold.
It is only 500 meters (instead of the 800 we expected).
It is the last time we will have to swim today.

8:24 am
When it was my turn, I waded through the hot, sucking mud into the warm water and got ready. It was such a harbinger of doom that I didn't even seem to care where I was in the pack for the wave start. I was right where I least wanted to be, in the dead center... and I didn't even notice until we took off. Right away, I had feet and fingers jabbing into me, knocking me around, and slogging water into my mouth and nose. Skin and suits were bumping me from the side and crowding me from behind. I was having trouble getting a solid breath with all the bodies around me, so I stalled and waited for some elbow room. This was probably within the first 50 yards.

I had been practicing breathing on both sides during my training sessions and had gotten pretty good at it, but even once the crowd thinned out, I couldn't get enough air in to make it three strokes. I was starting to gasp by 100 yards. And it was about this time that the Fear showed up.

It is unclear, even with a day to reflect, whether the Fear was the cause or effect of a physical reaction. About a month ago, after a very stressful day at my former job, I went to my swimming workout and completely freaked out. I couldn't catch my breath, was practically hyperventilating at the end of each lousy 25 yards and had to quit early. I didn't realize until I got out of the water that I was having some sort of anxiety attack. I had never really appreciated the physical ramifications of my stress level until that point. Sure, intellectually I understood that 'fight or flight' makes one take shallow fast breaths. But until you are trying to swim and your airway is constricting, it is just a Fun Fact to Know and Tell, you know?

OK, so Sunday. I heard later from different sources that a lot of people had a tough day with their allergies. I also had that cigar a couple of days before and spent two nights in not unsmoky bars. And I was laid off two weeks ago from the only real job I have ever had and have absolutely no idea how I am going to spend the next two months, let alone two years or decades of my life.

All of these things were happening when the horn sounded. Which one was the proverbial straw for my camel back, I don't know. All I know is that I couldn't take a deep breath. And I freaked out. I knew I wouldn't drown or anything (vive le backstroke), but my brain started talking all kinds of nonsense. At one point, after making the buoy turn, I got a huge mouthful of water and in my sputtering, my animal mind said, "Just drink more"... To be clear, I wasn't suddenly feeling suicidal, I was feeling disoriented and confused. There was this steady stream of mental chatter, where normally I only count breaths and strokes. During the entire 500 meters, I don't think I got more than ten strokes in a row even once. I did a lot of side stroke and a fair bit of backstroke. I took exactly two awkward and inefficient breaths on my left side.

And then finally, I was out of the water. I was so exhausted from that (almost) 17 minutes that I wanted to just lie down in the sand. Instead, I found my river shoes and headed up the hill.

As I said at the beginning, the race FELT like the worst ever, but it wasn't. My swim pace was actually better than the Rogue last month (wha?! how?! no way!!). And while the run up the hill was almost exactly as long as it was at the Dilloman two years ago, I somehow managed to pull the transition off about a minute and a half faster than I did then.

8:47 am
At first, crossing that little red mount(ain) line was actually a bit of a relief. There was almost a breeze, and I felt like I had so much more control over my environment. I saw Rachel at the top of the first hill, and that put a smile on my face, though the hill felt a bit harder than I thought it should. I felt more winded than usual, but I was sort of stuck on the idea that maybe it was just my weird swimming and anxiety "thing." But that "thing" was really the Fear--and it can apparently bike AND swim.

Maybe it is because the bike is the longest leg for me: too much time and nothing but the sound of wind and the occasional "On your left," my mind just stayed unhinged. I was doing entirely too much thinking, and it was almost all defeatist and negative. More job stuff, friend stuff. Without the water to distract me, I could be even elaborate in my miserable daydreams. I could see it happening, and knew it was a recipe for disaster. But once it was started, I couldn't stop it.

At about mile 3, I started coughing. What had started as shallow breathing now had a "tickle" to it. If I tried to take too deep of a inhale, I would reflexively bark a little cough out. This didn't help. Each hill (there were approximately 17 of them it seemed) was a herculean effort. Since I couldn't stop all the mental shit-talking, I decided to try a different angle. For once, I was going to fuel on the bike ride like I was supposed to! I have taken a Gu on practice rides before, but never during an actual race. I fumbled my bento pouch open, groped around past my phone and pulled out the little foil pack.

I didn't even look, and stuck the corner in my mouth to bite off the tab. Only, there wasn't a tab.

Weird, maybe I have it upside down. Flip. Stick edge in mouth. Nothing.

At this point, I have to look, cause I am wondering how I could possibly get opening a Gu wrong, and realize I have nearly eaten the giveaway moist towelette on accident.

I didn't even laugh at myself about it until later when telling Amy the story... That's how foul my mood was. Anyway, I got the Gu on the second try and managed to eat it without further incident. I want to say more about the bike ride, but already this thing is so long, even I am getting bored listening to me bitch.

THE BIKE RIDE IN THREE WORDS (finally):

Hilly
Bumpy
LONG

My time was longer than I had hoped (by more than 10 stupid minutes!) But I still beat my first Danskin and Dilloman paces. The dismount was uneventful this time. I remember hearing Stacy cheer for me at one point, which was bolstering and I managed to get down the dusty hill and back into transition snappily.

I was so tired. I was coughing. The breeze had faded. Only 3.1 miles to go! ARRRRGH.

9:58 am
Whatever had lodged in my lungs was really making me wheeze at this point. When I got up onto the hill, and the "lumpier" part of the trail, I realized that I had done some damage to my injured arm on the ride. I was getting this sharp elbow pain every time I tried to run more than a few steps. I tried holding my wrist with my other hand, hooking it in my trisuit shoulder strap, holding my arm far away from my body and close in. The best I could get was a bearable throbbing ache. It was a long, slow 5k. I was so happy to see Marian at the first water stop, but was a complete zombie at the second one.

By the third mile I was fighting back tears of frustration. I can run, goddamnit! Except, I couldn't... If it wasn't the arm, it was the wheezing cough. I would try to pick out a landmark, a tree or sign, and say to myself "Just run to that." Then I would ALMOST make it. Once I came out of that hillocky, uneven terrain and could see the finish, I renewed my efforts to slow jog in, but still had to walk part of the final bend.

Once I was under the trees with 300 or so yards to go, I started to jog and somehow shut all the physical and mental hurt off for the next few minutes. I had to hold my arm up and against me during the final sprint, but I ran the bitch in. Two-twenty-four.

10:48 am
I was gasping and coughing and the tears wanted out so badly, but I saw Carol and kept my shit together enough to say "No, I am not ok. Arm. Hurts." I worked on catching my breath and notcrying with all I had left.

The rest of the early afternoon is very disjointed... But some genuinely good things happened.

GOOD THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO ME AFTER THE RACE:

Actually won a raffle prize
Got my arm worked on by the great Advanced Rehabilitation folks
Helped several Roguesters cheer Theresa across the finish (probably the best I felt all morning, actually)

I wanted so badly to have a better attitude than I did. Finally, I just had to pack it in and get my almostbawling ass home. I am so thankful that Amy drove, as I am not sure I could have handled traffic on top of everything else.

As far as brass tacks go, two hours and 24 minutes is still better than my first Danskin time, but the distances were more comparable to Jack's Generic which I managed in 2:11 two years ago. My Dilloman at the same location (but with a longer swim and shorter bike) was an excruciating 2:37. I can say I didn't totally bomb out, but I couldn't have been less "on" for this race. Ultimately, this is what disappoints me more than the numbers. Where was all of my discipline and strength when I needed it? And how do I know I can count on it next time?

[Damn it.]