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May 2012
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July 2012

qotd, courage

"'When you are born,' the golem said softly, 'your courage is new and clean. You are brave enough for anything: crawling off of staircases, saying your first words without fearing that someone will think you are foolish, putting strange things in your mouth. But as you get older, your courage attracts gunk and crusty things and dirt and fear and knowing how bad things can get and what pain feels like. By the time you're half-grown, your courage barely moves at all, it's so grunged up with living. So every once in a while, you have to scrub it up and get the works going or else you'll never be brave again.'"

-- Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairland in a Ship of her Own Making, which you really should read.


up with figs, beware, ladies

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.

Frog prince

Today I wound up reading The Frog Prince to two groups of first graders. It went well. (Except for the bit with the puppet, which we shan’t ever mention again.)

At the end of the book, after the frog has turned into the prince and the princess has learned her Very Important Lesson, we talked about selfishness and, naturally, frogs.

“So how many of you have kissed a frog?” I asked.

Every kid made a yucky face. 

“Why not?” I asked. 

Every kid but one looked at me like I was wearing a sweater for a hat for even suggesting such a thing. And then that one kid said, “That only works if you’re a princess.”

 

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


party on

On Tuesday, the Diva will be ten years old. I don't even know how to wrap my head around this.*

Rather than even try, we had a sleep-over on Saturday for four of M's friends and her.

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Decorations.

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Cake.**

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In the morning, they made sand paintings with skittles to take home. So that they could share their exhuberance with their parents, too.***

Lucy handled the whole thing with aplomb.

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"Cake?"

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* Scott seems to be having a rough time, too, especially since some of her friends are starting to morph into proto-women. He's against it, by the way.

** If you need to bake gluten-free, this book is awesome.

*** Actually, the girls were great. The kids I gave birth to are the only ones I wanted to strangle. As it goes.


qotd, why run

"Now that I've been running for a while, I have less advice to give. That's because advice is a recommendation to do something one particular way. But if you run long enough, you'll do so in every conceivable way. You'll run smart and stupid, fast and slow, short and long, in good weather and bad, with dogs, with friends, with children, alone, on a full stomach and nearly starving, in fancy shoes and old beaters, on college tracks and over mountains, on country roads and city streets. Identical runs will be easy one day, grueling the next. You'll have long runs that fly by, short ones that grind on forever. One day the syrupy waffle bogs you down, the next day, it fuels the final sprint."

-- Marc Parent, Runner's World, July 2012. (Read the full column if you can. It's a keeper.)


once more into the breach, dear friends

Two quick announcements:

* For those in the area (or anticipating being in the area), I'll be signing books (and, perhaps, musing upon lobsters) at Over the Rainbow Yarns in Rockland, ME, on Saturday, June 30 at 2p.m. All are welcome. 

* There's a kerfuffle about the USOC and Ravelry that has grown to absurd proportions. I just don't even know how to begin. Fortunately, Kay Explains It All For You. And I will totally be knitting at pair of socks for Colbert.

In other news, at 11:40 this morning, my kids will officially be on summer break.*

If yesterday (also a half day) is any indication, this will be a long summer indeed. It has been nice knowing you all. Think of me fondly.

 

* Please don't do what everyone else does, which is point out that they go awfully late into the summer. I know. There are Very Good Reasons for this, allegedly. But, yes, it is almost July before the school year ends in these parts.


up with figs, diet

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.

Diet

Jorge “The Liberator” Cruz was a wanted man, only the authorities didn’t know that he was who they wanted. The Liberator would sneak into the library late at night, steal all of the trendy diet books, then replace them with baskets of apples and carrots, which he grew in organic plots behind his house. What finally tipped the authorities off was the compost pile. Instead of breaking down into a rich soil amendment, Skinny Bitch, et. al, formed a foul-smelling clump of printer’s ink and tears. At his arraignment, Cruz said, “Wait a minute. I could have just checked them out, then never returned them? Nuts.”

 

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


many things make a post

* It's science.

* A strong argument can be made that every woman who has spent any time online has experienced this

* No, kids. You didn't invent naughty pictures.

* Nailed it.

* We are not made of meat; we are made of bacteria.

* Dear Knoxville, why couldn't you be this awesome when I lived there?

* Also the best gift you could give a literary mom.

* What happens to unloved clothes.

* Bargains are a drug.


actual knitting content, but I don't even wear shawls

I may have started another shawl, which is weird, because I don't really wear the silly things.

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It's Sothia, which I first fell in love with when I saw it here. Then I went to Webs, saw they had the yarn* and, well, you can guess the rest. I'm to the eyelet row. I'm thinking about the ruffle with both excitement and dread, as one does.

Other than that, here. Have a gratuitous corgi in one of her fave sleeping spots/positions.

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I can't move my office chair until the nap is done, out of fear I'll squish her. Send snacks.

* I'm developing a fierce love for the Madelinetosh. Such colors! Such soft!