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June 2012
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August 2012

I got a rock

Last weekend, I was at the fair and lovely Readercon, which was, indeed, both fair and lovely.* 

This isn't about that.

On Thursday morning, while I was at the dentist for my six monthly cleaning, Scott called. His phone is a POS and I only heard a few words before he disappeared. Those words: Maddy.....head injury...bleeding.....paramedics.

I did what any parent would do, which is freak out a little bit. 

Instead of running out of the office like my hair was on fire, I called Scott back. Turns out the words between the ones I heard were all of the modifiers like "not a serious," "like head wounds do," and "just in case."

What had happened is this: Maddy is taking the tennis and swimming lessons that our town offers every summer and we have deemed her old enough to walk by herself. She was walking from tennis to swimming, which isn't terribly far, and talking to one of her friends. There were some boys throwing rocks into the creek that's near the path. One of the boys lost control of his throw and pegged Maddy right in the noggin with it.

Her friend did exactly what a kid should do in such circumstances, which is find an adult. The adult, a lifegaurd, called 911. Etcetera. 

Scott happened to be walking the Boy and the Dog down to swimming lessons when he saw the ambulance. He figured out who was injured pretty quickly, fortunately. Then called me. 

I met them at the ER, where Maddy got a staple put in her head.** She was covered in blood but more or less OK by that point, if a little shakey. 

After assuring myself that she was just fine, I drove home what I feel is the most important lesson from the whole incident. 

"Stay away from boys," I said, "particularly those with rocks. They are untrustworthy."

She laughed, which is all I wanted. 

A little later on, I left for Readercon, where the Shirely Jackson awards were held. And, yes, the confluence of the two events was not lost on me.

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* I live-blogged a bit, in case you are interested in such things.

** She has made it perfectly clear that she doesn't want pictures taken, which is fine because I want to throw up a little bit when I see the staple in her head.


qotd, what this summer has been like for me, so far.*

Dotty: And I take the sardines. No, I leave the sardines. No, I take the sardines. 
Lloyd: You leave the sardines and you hang up the phone. 
Dotty: Yes, right. I hang up the phone. 
Lloyd: And you leave the sardines. 
Dotty: I leave the sardines? 
Lloyd: You leave the sardines. 
Dotty: I hang up the phone and I leave the sardines? 
Lloyd: Right! 
Dotty: We've changed that, have we, dear? 
Lloyd: No, dear... 
Dotty: That's what I've always been doing? 
Lloyd: I wouldn't say that, Dotty my precious. 
Dotty: Well, how about the words, dear, am I getting some of them right? 
Lloyd: Some of them have a very familiar ring. 

-- from Noises Off!, which continues to be my favorite play/movie about theater, although the TV series Slings and Arrows is a close second.

* I'm Dotty, btw.


actual knitting content + animal butts

You can stick a fork in Sothia.

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(I'm glad my neighbors weren't home when I was wandering around our yard with a shawl and a camera.)

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It's a fun knit* - except for the last few rows of the ruffle that make you want to take up a more sensible hobby - and I might do another one. Or not. I may have already started something else.

When I downloaded these pictures, I found a few more from the Boy.

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Dog butt. And shoes. Oh the shoes.

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Cat butt. No shoes.

 

* Before you ask, Madelinetosh (LOVE!) Merino Light in Cathedral and Ink. One skein of each. I have one skein of Catherdral left over, which means that you'll probably see it again because it is gorgeous. Reminds me of stained glass windows.


up with figs, Nita

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.

 

Nita

It was a slow day down at Nita’s Wig Shoppe. No one even came in to try on the Tammy Wynette, which Nita always kept in the window, like a big blonde beacon that drew the Southern girls and drag queens to her Shoppe’s shores. 

But today, nada. No calls. No shoppers. No browsers. Quiet as a church, which it kinda was, Nita thought, if your God was fake hair. 

It didn’t matter your denomination. Nita’s blank, white styrofoam heads, tiered clear up to the 12’ ceiling, held hair short and long and in between. She had mullets and bobs and, indeed, weaves. Name your celebrity and she had their hair. Worship in whatever manner you choose. 

Be sure to bring cash, though. Nita doesn’t cotton to credit and knows your check is no good.

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



many things make a post

* Five key TED talks.

* The disease of the 21st century?

* Ah! How did I not know about these? (especially this one.)

* Advice to Young Writers.

* Love the illos. (ht to bitchesgetstitches.)

* On bento.

* Use Abe to stop the bleeding.

* Sometimes, you need an info graphic. (They should have pushed the humor further, imo.)

* But what does the Higgs boson mean to Mitt Romney?

* Warning: shoots flaming balls.


actual knitting content + a question

First, the question: I've been approached by the local library to do a writing class. Which is great. But here's the question - if you were going take a writing class from me, what would you like to learn? It'll be about writing non-fiction, naturally.

As for the knitting....

Maddy saw a scarf made out of Katia Triana in Halcyon's when we were away. Because I love her, I promised to make the scarf, despite my dislike for novelty yarn.

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Fortunately, it only took a couple of hours. Those who watched me knit it commented that it looked like a sea creature. I'm thinking a more funky Chihuly. 

Regardless, it makes a fine hat. Or something from the touring company of Annie.

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Or, um, this:

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qotd, for your information

“I really, truly believe that comments pages on news stories should have a warning so that you don’t scroll down too far. Something should flash up instantly saying, ‘ATTENTION. THIS ARTICLE HAS ENDED. REASON STOPS HERE. WHAT FOLLOWS IS A THUNDERDOME OF BULLSHIT. VENTURE FORWARD AT YOUR OWN RISK. GODSPEED.’”

-- John Oliver, stolen from here.


and then it all happens at once.

A quicky round-up (with pictures) of the last seven days. It's been a little busy.

One of our gifts to Maddy was a pedicure, because she is a girl who loves (loves!) to paint her nails. The polisher made her toes extra fancy: 

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 Best. day. ever.

Then, family gifts were opened. The Boy kept himself amused with any and all excess packaging.

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Then off to Maine, to visit college friends (hereafter known as Doula Quinn and the Gardener) and make a side trip to Rockland. (The yarn-y stuff was great fun, by the way. Go to Over the Rainbow Yarn, if you get the chance. It's full of The Good Stuff.)

The Gardener is on the crew building an old-school wooden boat in Bath. 

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How they'll fit the people in is left to your imagination.

I kid. 

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This is what they have so far. 

We brought Lucy to Maine, too. We introduced her to the extended family's pigs.

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The sheep and cows weren't quite as willing to humor us. 

She also got to scramble around on rocks and experience the ocean (as it is meant to be experienced, imo).

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She's the orange dot. 

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My Boy wasn't quite as interested in rock scrambling but Doula Quinn's Boy (proto-man, really) was. 

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And to bring it back around, I had my toes done, too.

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up with figs, Glitter Mike: the early years

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.

GlitterMike-the early years

All of the good superheroes were taken. As were his underwear and shorts, which his mom had stripped off of him after the incident with the glue and the glitter and the urine (not his) of which she will never speak again. 

That afternoon Glitter Mike the Pantsless Wonder was born. It’s not much of an origin story but we all must work with what we have.

Glitter Mike never planned to rid the world of evil. He did, however, make it slightly more weird.

 

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