martinimade

(An update: On Wednesday last, I caught the cold that the kids had been kind enough to share. By Friday morning, I couldn't get out of bed, if only because I kept falling asleep and didn't want to fall down on anything harder than my mattress. End of story: bronchitis, sinusitis and a scary eardrum. I'm on drugs now and have more sprays and unguents than a person probably should. Still, I have stopped feeling worse. So there's that.

(Admittedly, that's probably more than you wanted to know. Sorry. I once had an editor point out that illness makes me loquatious. He wasn't wrong. 

(Right. So, my point: things are moving slowly if at all. Hence, a short list of "many things," because I haven't been spending much time in front of the machine. Which is also why I probably owe you email.)

* The hazard of false nostalgia. Also: I don't know what to make of this. You?

* I just... go look.

* This exhibit scared the poo out of me as a kid. Apparently, it made an impression on others, too.

* Even the idea of this makes me queasy.

* What the "Real Housewives" can teach us.

* Phil Williams is a mensch. As is Martha Boggs. (And, oh!, how I miss the Bistro's food.)

"As soon as there were gates, there were barbarians ready to storm them."

-- Steven Johnson, The Ghost Map, which does many things and serves as a reminder that we are lucky to live when and where we do.

On Tuesday, I decided to vacuum. As one does.

Given that I knew that the vacuum needed to be taken apart to remove some object that was blocking the beater bar thingy, I gave myself an extra ten minutes and found a screwdriver. And then had to find another screwdriver when I discovered that two of the screws were in recessed holes that the first screwdriver was too big for.* 

I figured that the object in question had come from a kid's room and was of the Lego/Polly Pocket type of toy. I was wrong. It was a six-inch** drywall screw, which had not only jammed all of the mechanics but had also lodged in such a way that it burned out the little wheel that the beater bar spins on. Yes, that's its technical name.

Because I am a problem solved, I tried to unjam everything with an even more substantial screwdriver, pliers, and a can of WD-40.***

An hour later, I'd successfully broken all of the parts I could get to and ordered new ones.

And had a mess that I needed to vacuum up. Oh, irony.

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* Write your own naughty joke here.

** ish.

*** Scott calls this "the last refuge of the dammed." He is not wrong.

A small figs fyi, y'all. Lisa had the temerity to go and get paying work, which is keeping her busy for the moment. Figs will be back, eventually. Mostly because I don't think I'll be getting any freelance paying work in the near future.*

Anyhoo, go visit her and tell her that you love her. 

In knitting news, I have begun Anne Hanson's Blumchen. McGregor claims it for all of catdom.

I am having a few doubts about making the medium size, which is what all of the numbers and charts and swatch tell me I should be making. It just looks so very tiny. Hrumph. We shall see how this bad boy blocks out.

The color is more true in the picture with the cat's paw; the stitch pattern is easier to spot in the bottom picture. The yarn is Briar Rose Sea Pearl, which I love more than is polite.

And, also, I bought something for the Featureless Saint's office door: 

Actually, I wanted to hang it on my own office door but given that my office is in the house and we have enough problems with The Boy and his cursing, we thought it best to not press the matter. But some day, I shall hang what I want with impunity. IMPUNITY, I tell you.

Oh - and I got it here. 

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* Not a pity party. Statement of truth. Publishers are dying, you know, and can't take any risks right now. And I am such a risk. I will totally run with scissors, is what I'm saying.

* Yes, this. All in higher ed should read it.

* 10 Things to not do to save money. (I bring this up because we had a run-in with #5 again. Feh.)

* Rolling Bean Boot!

* Sigh. This is a beautiful piece of writing that makes my heart hurt.

* The type of childhood stress is important. 

* What he learned at the Parent Improvement Program. 

* "Reality bears little resemblence to CSI."

* On Wait, Wait. (Warning: there's a weird edit in the last graf, which may have been fixed by the time you read this.)

* The story of a shoe.

* I support this post on mock meat.

* The Boy should be on this new show.

* From nerak. Be sure to read the tabs fo reach recipe. Or, rather, "recipe."

* U.S. history as seen through a cake lens.

I had such grand plans for today's post. I would tell you all about my Blumchen. Real life has intruded, however. Not in a bad way, mind, but in a 'oh crap classes start on Wednesday and I should do my actual job' way. So the grand post will have to wait. 

Instead, have a small piece I wrote for the Locus online site. More anon.

There is no direct quote in this post but, rather, two links to the poems themselves, because to take any of Marge Piercy's well chosen words out of context would be a crying shame. So:

To Be Of Use

For the young who want to

On Feb. 8, I started running. I am not, by any definition of the word, athletic.* But I was about to turn 40, which was a good reason to try something new. Given that I'm saving heroin for my 85th birthday (because, well, why not?), running seemed like the best choice. 

Reader, I love it. Mostly. For relatively flexible definitions of love.

 In August, I bought one of those Nike+** dohickies that you put on your shoe to keep track of distance. And because the Mike people are evil geniuses, you can get the summation of your previous year on their site. 

I nearly fell over. From 30 August until Dec. 31, I ran 299 km/185 miles. I find this astounding. From nearly nothing to more than halfway from my house to Montreal. (At the end of 2011, I was in Keeseville.) 

Consider my mind blown. 

And on the topic of other things I thought I'd never do, I plied that last little bit of blue yarn. 

This is pre-bath. Yes, I overplied. A lot. Sometimes, I really overcompensate.

My high-tech drying rig.

Done. The ply didn't relax as much as hoped. Can't wait to see what it looks like once knitted.

Reunited. Cos, you know, I feels so good.

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* I wasn't even a mathlete. 

** It's not the best dohicky ever but it gets the job done well enough.

Stolen (with irony noted) from the Blogess:

FYI, y'all: Forgotten Bookmark's Mike had a bit of an incident at his shop this morning. He's fine but weep for the books. Oh, the books.

* Mary Roach on shrunken heads. (Also: she shrinks her own.)

* Jim C. Hines is made of awesome. And made the right choice w/r/t his pants.

* Russia by Rail.

* I'm a big fan of #10.

* Beware the Intergalactic Nemesis. Or, you know, go see it.

* Must control fist of death.

* One day, we'll live to be 50.

* The ACI.

* On the Gettysburg Marathon. What think you?

* All that would improve this is Pluto, not because I believe it's a planet but because one can't have enough chocolate.

* And the evolutionary advantage to depression is...? Also: on the importance of rest.

* Note to self: should trip to Seattle work out for this summer, go to one or more of these.

* Other note to self:  Ask Clara if she needs an assistant.