martinimade

While I am not doing any holiday knitting, I did decide to make a little something as a gift:

Fabulous, isn't it? Any guesses as to the final design?

In other news, for the last minute holiday shoppers, I'd like to point you to some things I have made that you can also read --

The Shaken or Stirred ebook, which is all about kids and parents and the intersection of the same, is available at Smashwords or Amazon. The cost is a mere $7.99.

For the knitter in your life, Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously makes a great present. For the mentally ill person in your life, Hillbilly Gothic: A Memoir of Madness and Motherhood could a be strong choice, depending on the flavor of that person's particular illness.

(Barnes and Noble links provided for the sake of convenience. Please support the retailer of your choice.)

And on that self-promotional note, I am off to get the last of the gifts in the mail. This makes me happier than I can begin to describe.

"Finally, a decent cylindrical mug will preserve the needful heat and flavor for longer than will a shallow and wide-mouthed—how often those attributes seem to go together—teacup."

-- Christopher Hitchens on making tea.

Also: Jesse Mayshark on meeting the man.

I am not behind on my holiday knitting because I'm not doing any holiday knitting. Who needs the extra pressure? Knitting is supposed to be fun.*

Instead, I am working on a mindless Moebius cowl, which I shall wear during the dead of winter, when my home office closely resembles a meat locker. Because writers should remain well-chilled in order to forestall spoilage.

Speaking of, the Magic4Terri auction closes today. My item is currently going for $60, which is lovely. There are many other fabulous goods and services to bid on, still. If you are a fan of magic, music and/or dogs, do consider giving.

In other news, McGregor has settled in for his long winter's nap.

Yes, his long winter's nap is indistinguishable from his long spring/summer/fall naps. There is something to be said for consistency.

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* For relative values of "fun," mind.

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

I’m just not feeling it this year. Maybe this will change. Maybe it won’t. But I’m meeting the whole Christmas/Hanukkah/Festivus/Kwanzaa/New Year’s season with resignment rather than celebration. It’s going to happen no matter what I do. Might as well lie back and think of the Baby Jesus. 

This isn’t new, mind, just more pronounced this year. And my hope is that I’ll have a moment, one of those small seconds when the light catches an ornament just right, say, when I feel that holiday feeling. Just for that split second, it will be less than a total drag.

Which is why I miss living in Knoxville, where one dude roams the interstates in his tricked-out pick-up with the electrified holiday icons. It’s like one of those mythic Christmas miracles, all heaped up in the back of a Ford longbed.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* Behind the scenes with Jon Stewart.

* The hardship and joy of How I Met Your Mother.

* If I had world enough and time, I'd have a room full of nothing but maps and globes. Ken Jennings knows why.

* I kinda want to see this.

* How did I not know about the Watkins Family Hour podcast?

* Franklin and I are in complete agreement about NYC and the Lion Brand Studio. Hinthint.

* This is a lot like what Christmas was like with the (thankfully) departed Mooch. Really. He was not a good cat. 

* I might need this book.

* Do you prefer to buy books from people who actually read books?

* On breast cancer. (Is it wrong that my first impulse is to knit her a Shedir?)

Why I would like to be Canadian, in the almost daily.

(Finals week just started here. Posts may be a leeeetle bit thin until I get through Thursday. Unless, of course, they aren't. YMMV.)

"A rational being, assessing my chances of ever getting anywhere as a writer, would have assessed them as quite low.

The weird thing is, though, that I did eventually get somewhere. Because it turns out that talent, whatever that is, and that glowy aura, are only part of the picture. Once I graduated, other less glamrous skills came into play. Such as: the ability to stay focused on writing when nobody’s giving you encouragement. Related skill: the ability to fail to get a job that’s more interesting than working on your novel-in-progress (check, and double-check!)

Also: the ability to take a beating. I got a lot of rejections during those first, oh, dozen years or so. Enough that a more reasonable person would have given up. But for some reason my lizard hind-brain wasn’t going to let me quit. And after I spent a day/month/year sulking over those rejections, I actually looked at them and thought about why they weren’t acceptances, and fed the conclusions back into my working drafts. That turned out to be a very important skill. Not glamorous or fun, but absolutely necessary."

-- Lev Grossman, here.

Two packages arrived during the last week.*

The first was from Briar Rose Fiber and was dyed just for me. Because I'm that special. ***

It's Sea Pearl in a tealy blue. Love. It's for this pattern, which I bought at the Retreat a few weeks back. I can't wait to get started, which won't happen until after the holidays but, for now, I can just look at it an sigh every now and again.

Also in the post, a box o' mutant fleece:

This will require more planning. I've never washed/carded/spun a whole fleece. I'm not even certain where to start. But I can't tell you how excited I am to do so.

The trick will be keeping the cats from destroying it. The box alone has already generated buckets of feline excitement. I think they think there's an actual sheep in there, one who needs chasing and/or grooming.

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* Actually, a lot of packages arrived during the past week. Most of those are gifts for people who are not me.** These are the two packages I'll talk about now.

** And, yes, quite a few are from small indie online stores, because I live in a smallish town that has only a few small indie local stores to shop from. And none of them sell yarn or fiber.

*** This isn't true. Chris will dye just for you if you ask her nicely, I suspect. She's a good egg.

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

This is the time of year when I feel the most sorry for mailmen.*

Every single time I step out to the mailbox, it contains at least five pounds of catalogues. 

That’s a conservative estimate, mind. On the days when I also get my issues of Martha Stewart Living and Real Simple (don’t judge), the estimate crawls up to eight or nine pounds.

Then there are the boxes. And Tyvek mailers. And brown-paper-and-bubble-wrap envelopes. 

It’s a lot of stuff, is what I’m saying. 

And some of it is probably weird stuff, too. Not that I personally get weird stuff but I know for a fact that you can mail a coconut or a bowling ball or live chickens or crickets. 

If I’m getting all of this mail, I can only imagine what our mailman (see below) has to carry up and down our street, which has at least ten houses on it. In the cold. And, frequently, in the dead of night.

I want to leave a plate of cookies out for him on Christmas Eve. Along with a Thermos full of hot toddies. Because, seriously, dude deserves it.

* Or “letter carriers” or “mailpersonsofeithergenderwhichisnotintendedtoexcludethetransgenderedtosaynothingoftheintersexed.”

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* What running will not do. 

* Your handy guide to genres.

* How to make goat cheese. (An aside: I appear to be one of the few people on the planet who thinks that goat cheese tastes exactly like goats smell.)

* The library phantom strikes again.

* A victory.

* This may be my favorite picture book of the year. And it's even better this way.

* It's sad that this needs a day.

* A great feat of charm and skill.

* The #occupyuterus movement.

* This just makes me want to punch someone.

* More on Diana Nyad. (Worth clicking through if only for the pictures.)

* Please add this to the list of things I miss about Pittsburgh.

* Dead of the Day.

* Heidi is a total nerd.