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Thursday, February 24, 2005

it goes to show you never can tell 

How much space is left on your TIVO?
Ummmm, about 12 hours on the upstairs drive, which holds about 36 hours, I think, and the downstairs has about 25 hours, of a 100-hour drive. We've noticed that some programs take up extra time, though.

Have you ever bought a DVD of a TV series and if so which one?
Yes, we have The Ben Stiller Show, several seasons of the Kids In The Hall, Tenacious D, Mr. Show and the first season of Upright Citizens Brigade--and Freaks and Geeks.

What was the last TV show you watched before reading this message?
I guess Sex And The City(or is it in?) which I recorded off TBS. Their times are all off, though, and I missed the very end of an episode.

List five shows you won't miss.
1. HBO--I'm counting all of "our" shows: The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Carnivale, Deadwood and Entourage.
2. Desperate Housewives--I was a late arrival to this party, but I'm totally diggin' it. The episode where Lynette throws down at a control-freak mom made me laugh myself silly.
3. Knitty Gritty--Glad to see they're expanding beyond the basics.
4. Huff--I'm kinda sucked into it. I don't want to like it, there's still a smudge of Showtime smut on it, but I do. The episode where Huff's mom tells her grandson that everyone has had their heart broken and everyone knows how much it hurts, so that's why everyone wants to help, well, sneef me.
5. Celebrity Poker Showdown--It's a wee bit shallow, but hey! I'm not alone in finding famous people slightly more interesting than civilians. Oh well. It's not like I have a subscription to the National Enquirer. And this particular point in Dave Foley's career arc is open to some interesting interpretations. What is it? The fifth,--no, fourth season? And you know who always wins the champion rounds? That's right, the funny girls. Ain't nobody can smell weakness like a funny girl.

One show I wish someone would air again?
Without question ,Freaks and Geeks. It just doesn't get any better. Television nirvana, proof of love in the universe. Yay.

I'm not sure I'm going to pass this on, only because I'm hearing a little backlash, and I would hate to give someone a gift they didn't like. But, I, personally, love to be asked, so bring 'em on.

Also, I forgot to write that I came home from knitting and sat in front of the TV and talked myself into working on finishing my Linen Drape sweater. It seems that it's finally decided to behave. I won't even tell you what I did to it to make it act right--it's too shameful--only that it was completely illogical and Bad Yarn Care.

I can't be good all the time.

I just received a belated birthday gift. It's a gift certificate to my favorite yarn store, and with the money they owe me, I might have to go peruse one last time. My Linen Sweater will need a cardie, darling.

I admire Alison's resolve to finish in February, but I'm always ripping stuff out. After I've worn it for 3 or 4 months. 'Cause I'm stupid and I like to waste my own time, right? Like my Fluffy sweater. And Soft Kid is such a treat to rip out--just a little slice of heaven. I suspect it's rebelling at my rough treatment and now will not reform itself into a sweater. I may have to lock it up in the freezer and see if that yarn doesn't change its tune.

I've eaten tougher yarns than that for breakfast.No, scratch that, for dessert.

Take that.

the music spills right into your cup 

I should probabably just go back to bed right now. The past few days have been such a Windowpane swirl of good and bad.

I had a great time last night. I hope I wasn't the only one. I've been nursing a migraine for the past few days, plus I was really really nervous (meeting new people makes me REALLY nervous, and I start speeding up and speeding up like a LP on the wrong setting until I become The Amazing One-Woman Conversation.)Hopefully everyone will bear with me and realize that I am a deeply paranoid, insecure woman on the verge and that it takes me a good six months to stop imagining everyone talking behind my back.

It was literally all I could do to not drive to Showers of Flowers this morning and pick up yarn for Charlotte's Web. Cathi started hers with a lot of lovely lilac, purple and blue shades, and it has stayed in my mind like a shiny diamond. Plus, it's a long story, but SoF totally owes me and I'm about a quarter of an inch away from telling everyone what I really think.

I don't really consider myself a shawl person. I mean, don't get me wrong, not knocking them, and at this point, anything is better than ratty old Fun Fur scarves--they always looks to me like tatty monkey tails--but I had always mentally classified shawls as knitting you did because you could, knitting for the sake of the challenge. But the beautiful hues, the incredibly soft yarn, the lacy pattern...it is seducing me, I must admit.

I met Michelle and her guy, a very funny guy, who had new, hilarious stories playing on my theme for yesterday, Rotten Kids, especially the one about turning the bathroom into a pool. You can't see it, but I'm laughing right now. I haven't gotten around to actually inventing that cocktail, 'cause I don't know my liquor, but we're getting to it. Michelle is knitting a beaded pillbox hat, which I totally heart, and I can't wait for next Wednesday. It was a little nerve-wracking meeting on my home turf, but I'm what you might call a Tight Folder, when it comes to socializing. I've been pinned to the wall by the obnoxious person at the party plenty of times (leaving out all the times I probably was that person) and I generally will just quit, rather than spend my free time in a way I don't like. I definitely subscribe to the theory that you shouldn't quit when things get hard, but social and volunteer efforts? If it will make me happier not to see those people or make the effort to get there, well, I'm off like a prom dress. After three and a half years of pumping my heart's blood directly into the preschool, I've severely cut back my involvement to the point where I don't even go to the meetings, Pman does that for me instead. But hell! I went to every meeting for three years, and chaired about a third of them. Let someone else have a turn, you know.

All that to say--if it wasn't at my bar, on my ground, I might have chickened out, and I would be a sad puppy today. 'Cause I had myself a time, and I can tell that if we keep meeting like this, Pman's jokes about rowdy knitters and bail money might be on target. The great thing about my bar is that it's a vortex of possibility. It's one of those places that anything can happen at any time, which is perfect for me, for not only am I capable of doing anything at any time, those anythings frequently happen to me. What can I say? I'm part Aquarius. And I like to see knitters (and mamas) get down.

A new feature here on Wooliemama--my songs of the day:
--Hotel California, the Eagles: Not actually a favorite, but the song playing on Muzak when my son was born. Whaddya gonna do?
--Daria, Cake: The exact opposite of the cartoon, but it's stuck in my head anyway.
--Don't Let's Start: They Might Be Giants: Isn't it funny how you can hear a song plenty of times, or own the CD forever, and suddenly the neurons in your brain are opened in just the right configuration and you GET it and the sunlight from that song floods your dusty, cobwebby heart with light and dust glitter? Oh . It IS just me, then. Right. Cheers.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

you've been forewarned of the shakedown 

Okay, girls and boys, Cathi and I have A Plan.
This Plan involves knitting, a bar, and a nebulous, TBA cocktail called the Black Purl, concocted by Lisa the bartender and myself. So, what say you and I get together for some knitting drinking games and see what, uh, blocks out? Okay, not the best metaphor.

Well, seriously, Wednesday nights at 7 pm, @ the D Note in Oldtown Arvada (I refuse to comply with e's added for cheesy "historification") 7519 Grandview. This is right off I-70 and Wadsworth, so even though it isn't totally central, it's darn close. The Denver Knits group, the month that I attended, had one meeting in Larkspur and one at Park Meadows, neither of which is even Denver, so at least we're in a reasonable vicinity. I live in NW Denver and I get to work in like ten minutes. There is live music, and it's pretty slow on Wednesdays, so Lisa practically begged for us to meet there. We'll basically have the run of the place, and be treated like queens. (N.B. to any male knitters--show up and you'll probably be treated like queens, too, but trust me, it's better than the alternative--you learn valuable things whilst posing as the "mascot"--so show up anyway)

So let's have a knitting shindig!!

P.S. Let me or Cathi know if you're considering attending--we'd like to know how many to expect.

P.P.S. My lacy shell--I'm thinking of calling it the Cornflower Bitch, like the Red Baron but more infuriating, is giving me shit. It's Being Punished. I've reknit the sleeves enough for a whole 'nother sweater. I have got to get my own digital camera. I even bore myself without visuals.

Friday, February 18, 2005

pianos try to be guitars 

1. Total amount of music files on your computer?
Who the hell knows? I went through a deep spiritual period of downloading from Morpheus, but Pman saved most of them on a disk, so probably they're dead to me now.
2. The last CD you bought was:

The Postal Service, Give Up, for Pman's birthday.
3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?

Daniel, Elton John--all about the sad sneefy goodbye songs today.

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

Five? Right. You should live so long to see me be so brief. Here's the basics:
Lover, You Should Have Come Over--Jeff Buckley
Harvest Moon--Neil Young
You're So Damn Hot--OK Go
Least Complicated--Indigo Girls
Home (This Must Be The Place)--Talking Heads
Oh Oh Oh--Sleater-Kinney
If I Had $1000000--Bare-Naked Ladies, or as Bel used to call them, The Naked Bear Ladies
Kate-Ben Folds Five
Talula--Tori Amos
Black Love--The Twilight Singers
Ocean Breathes Salty--Modest Mouse
At Last--Etta James
Polaroids--Shawn Colvin

And this is actually me drawing a blank. I'm a lame-o.

5. What 3 people are you going to pass this baton to and why?
Kristin, because she's half a world away;
hairball, just because;
dirty purls, 'cause a girl who teases her boyfriend about hanger nipples has got to have stuff in common with me.

multiply life by the power of two 

I am so sad. I feel like crying.

My best friend is moving to Mexico next week with her boyfriend. It was a spur of the moment decision, and I just found out about it on Tuesday. She gave me all her AbFab videos and they remind me of her so much. We've been friends for ten years--our "anniversary" is actually my birthday--ever since she came to my 16th birthday party, when our friend Kevin had the Party of the Year on the same night, and only like five people came to mine. We used to watch AbFab together in high school, stoned and laughing hysterically. I've known every boyfriend she's ever had. She was there for all three of my kids' births. She came over once when I was pregnant with Isabel and we ordered pizza and watched the videos, soon after she first got them. I sneaked a cigarette (bad mommy) and we basically pretended I wasn't pregnant for an afternoon. One reason I find the show so funny is because of the intensity of the friendship. Those really close best friends, they always get me--it's one thing I love about Tenacious D, also--I just love the depiction of friends so close that they even share the same delusion. That's how she and I were. She was the last friend I made that I had that childhood engrossment with. Remember when you were like, 10, and you had that friend that was just your world? And you two did everything together, just lived and breathed each other? She and I were like that. She's always been there. She's known me longer than my daughters, darling. We have so many in-jokes and shared memories and supply so much history for each other. I remember when she went away to college and I stayed in town, pregnant and married. I visited her once--that was when I was four months with Isabel and we went to a frat party, her dormmates helped me pick out a shirt that didn't make me look too preggo, and Isabel kicked me for the first time (during "Blister In The Sun") because the only non-alcoholic beverage the brothers had was Mountain Dew--and we had our second fight, ever. And our first fight was only like a two-minute misunderstanding. But we were both going through such scary times, for different reasons, and we both sort of simultaneously freaked out. I don't think we've fought since.

I just can't handle it. We haven't been more than a phone call away in years. I miss the days when we were teenagers so much, when we spent all of our free time together, listening to music and making up rude sentences for our Latin homework. She remembers things about me that I've even forgotten. We know so many of each other's secrets. I don't even know what to do with myself. I miss her so much already. I don't think there's any way to change her mind. I wish she would just move in next door tomorrow and have a baby already, so we could share that, too.

I wish she wouldn't go.

Friday, February 11, 2005

And Here We Are In Heaven 

Today is our 5th anniversary. It's actually the anniversary of our meeting/first date, since we never, you know, got married, but this works well for us. Mazel tov, sugar.

I had the oddest feeling yesterday, driving home from taking my girl to school, that I recognized the other cars on the road, being as how we might all have the same routine, driving westbound I-70 at precisely 8:32 am. I know I recognized the ski van. Eerie.

Speaking of eerie, I was idly watching the news the other night, and saw a report about two men accused of rape. When they showed the police sketches, I nearly passed out, because one of those guys hit on me at a club in December, using the same line that they apparently used on the girls they attacked. Obviously, I would never have gone anywhere with those two losers, married or single, but it gave me the heebie-jeebies. Why are any men like that? Let's just purge the human race of rapists, and continue with a non-rape-prone male population. We'll just weed it out of the DNA. Hang on; let me run to the garage and get my pitchfork.

Okay. When I first heard that 3 out of 4 (or 1 in 3, or whatever obscene number) women could expect to be molested or attacked in their lifetime, I thought it was exaggeration. Now I only wish that was the case, because nearly every woman I know has been subjected in that way. It's enough to make you want to cut off all men, in protest. How do I explain to my girls that even though boys and girls are equal in every other respect, they must always view men with suspicion? It amazes me how differently men and women see the world, out of necessity. Pman routinely walks around town in the middle of the night, down train tracks, up alleys, totally carefree. For me, it would be like wearing a sign that says "Rape me and leave me for dead." Of course, our current administration has no problem making ritual sacrifices of its citizens, so I'm not surprised nothing's changing. Why should we be exempt from torture and murder simply because we're women?

A few weeks ago Pman and I were watching Huff, the one where Beth finds out her teen son has been attending blowjob parties, where the most popular boys receive dozens from participating girls (eeeew) and totally hits the roof. She tells her son she won't be able to look at him in the eye for a while (among other remonstrations), and Pman remarked that he felt she might have overreacted. Me, I felt she reacted as any modern mother would. What mom wouldn't be nauseated and enraged to find out her son is behaving like the kind of sexual opportunist we've all been fighting? Don't get me wrong--Pman is as liberated as they come. It just illustrates the differences: for Pman, it was an inappropriate yet understandable mistake; for me, (and probably Beth)it was a gruesome, dispiriting picture of young girls trained to be sexually submissive and open to exploitation from any male they wish to please, perpetuated by the young man you've been trying to bring up right. I might hit my son with a frying pan if he ever did that.

It's enough to send you to a nunnery.

Wow, I didn't really mean to get into all of that. I didn't even realize I was thinking about it. But I feel better for having gotten it off my chest.

I'm still working on my Linen Drape shell. I've done the back and one sleeve, and I'm to the armscyes on the front. I washed the sleeve to see how it would turn out--mmmmm. Drape is right!

I've started ripping Fluffy, reknitting it smaller, longer and on smaller needles. What's up with the sweaters in Vintage Knits all being like 12 inches long? I have rather a short waist, and I'm not especially tall, so why would I have to add like five inches to get a sweater to hit the waistband of my pants?

I love nearly every pattern in Vintage Knits. But they're so badly written and sized, with so many errors, that I would need a signed letter from Sarah Dallas herself before I'd ever buy another book of hers again. I can't believe there's no errata site for VK. Have you ever read a knitting book that needed one more?

Do you hear that, Ms. Dallas? Get your shit together.
If you can't design for women, design for boys--oh, wait, I get it.

So how much do you love KnitPicks? Has anyone ordered? I want details, ladies.

If you've left a comment, and I haven't responded, I'm working on it. I'm just really, really behind.

Your homework for today is to find a man and tell him the truth about what it's like to be a woman in the new millenium, a potential victim because of your sex, never in more danger than when at home with loved ones. If we have to change things one man at a time, well, it's still better than the alternative.