martinimade

Before I forget -- come to worldwide Knit in Public Day with me on June 8 in Princeton! Bring your own lawn chair! I let you touch The Sweater!

A year ago this week, we started a new adventure. 

The whole dog thing was new to all of us. There have been bumps. At times, I've considered turning her into a lovely rug, if only to replace the one she's destroyed.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally found the time to read the Corgi book I'd bought a long time ago, which warned that female Corgis can be a little bossy and stubborn. To which a said, just a little?*

Still, she's turning into a pretty good dog, if one who can't be dissuaded from stealing socks and herding kids. I'm hoping she'll settle in even more after her second birthday. It's good to hope for things.

Despite it all, she's a boon companion. The cats,** however, disagree.

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* I also pointed out that it appears that I'm raising the canine equivalent of myself.

** Our elderly kitty Trout is not in this picture. He seems to be suffering from some form of feline dementia and has given up on grooming, shakes his paw at the neighbors, and wanders around with his turn signal on. We love him, yes, but wish he'd stop treating the house as a litterbox.

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days 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 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 might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

OPI’s New Nail Colors for Winter 2014, which has been unofficially dubbed “Winter of our Discontent” by the marketing department whose advance PR materials had to be filed just one day after learning that they were all about to be laid off (except for Harriet, of course, who is the boss’ niece and there only to maintain family harmony, despite the fact that she can barely speak English much less write a decent sentence and never even contributes to the coffee fund).

* Books are gendered, too.

* "Don't be shitty."

* I *heart* Lindy West so hard.

* "This is Water."

* Related to the above: This is depression, with illustrations.

* While this piece is a touch hyperbolic, it feels true, especially from the POV of someone who spends some time interacting with college students.

* How to be a grown up. #5 is especially true and I frequently fail at #6, despite how simple it is. (ht Gwenda.)

* Yes, they do. (The opening anecdote reminds me of a scolding I was on the receiving end of while interviewing Antonya Nelson. But that is another story for another day.)

* Here is today.

* Make good use of the cicada invasion and do some science.

* Meagan says what every parent should know but almost never manages to remember during the heat of the moment. 

* You could have been a hamster mamma.

Yesterday, I woke to the delightful odor of cinnamon rolls and bacon. My Mother's Day only improved from there.

To be honest, since becoming a mother, I can't remember having a truly awful Mother's Day. And now that my children appreciate the wonderfulness of sleep and I've figured out what I really, really want*, my expectations and my reality now align.

The family outdid itself yesterday, though.

After a good, long run, I had free time enough to wind two giant yarn balls from Great White Bale Lot 1** and cast on for a project from it.**** While casting on, I also watched The Great British Sewing Bee, which pushed every single one of my TV buttons. The Husband mocked, as I suspected he would, but I pre-emptively forgave him because of my comments about the Golf Channel. Because, really? A Golf Channel? 

Delight number two was the book the Boy made. Here's an interior page:

The text (you can click on the picture to make it bigger) reads: "My mom is as smart as me! She knows the capital of Washington. She knows the capital of Tennessee. She knows the capital of Florida."

Apparently, his class is learning about metaphors and similes. In the Boy's eyes, I'm as "curious as Curious George, as cool as J.J.*****, and as creative as Vincent Van Gogh." Which is so sweet I can't even tell you. And then there's this:

"My mom is as old as a fourty-two year old computer. A couple of weeks ago, my mom turned 42. She is older than my Dad!"

You should really look hard at the picture, too, to get the full effect. That kid.

The husband made dinner, too, and the Girl straightened her room. It was a good day. And, yes, I know how lucky I am.

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* All I want is a clean car, one where all of the kid crap is out of the backseat and the dog slobber is wiped off of the windows. I am a simple creature.

** Rather than bust out the swift and winder, I wanted the pleasure of doing the balling by hand. And, oh, it was a delight.***

*** (insert rude pun here)

**** More anon.

***** a kid in his class who is really, really cool.

People who feel sorry for themselves? She understands. We all encounter injury and illness and loss and change, and we're all scared and sad and hopeless. She has certainly been all those things. And the moment she bawled like a baby might serve as an object lesson in how we all—runners and nonrunners, brain-damaged and life-battered, blessed and cursed, teenaged loan sharks and high school physics teachers alike—might handle those moments when we want to give up.

"I have sat in a bathtub full of bubbles having a glass of wine, crying and feeling sorry for myself," your mother says. "Then I got out of the goddamn bathtub and went to bed and got up the next day."

-- from Steve Friedman's feature in this month's Runner's World.*

*  Runner's World's feature department kills it every dang month, btw. 

Shameless promo first, just to get it out of the way: In case you were looking for a Mother's Day Gift and the mother for whom you are buying has an e-reader, you might want to look here or here. You're welcome. And thank you.

MORE MITTENS!

(If you want to know why mittens, click here.)

These were dropped off at the Green Toad by Barbara Burr. One big pair and one less big pair, exquisitely knit. What intrigues me most, however, is the bag, which looks to be from an agritourism spot in Milan, Italy.*

The mittens are in the bin. Thanks, Barbara!

Once I push through the next few days of finals and grading, I get to open this:

I cannot wait.

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* Or I have been thwarted by google maps. This has happened before. 

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days 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 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 might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Mr. Hoppity Whiskers knew that great damp snout could only signify one thing: that Fluffy wanted to eat him all up should she get the chance. 

But, really, Fluffy just wanted to curl up at the foot of his bunny-sized armchair on a cold, rainy Sunday while Mr Hoppity Whiskers drank a nice warm cup of tea. 

Which says something about the difference between perception and reality -- but Mr Hoppity Whiskers was too busy shitting his lederhosen to enjoy the finer points of the metaphor.

* Cosmarxpolitan. Can't. Stop. Giggling.

* Biology is both fascinating and delicious.

* To the parents of small children.

* What to bring to rehab.

* Further proof that the culture at large doesn't give two craps about rural Appalachia. (The doc looks great, however, if harrowing. I want to see it.)

* I kinda love Kevin Spacey now. 

* On locker rooms and Jason Collins.

* Worth reading for the first line alone.

* I keep meaning to post this but haven't: Cotton Mather (the band, not the preacher) was one of my favrotie Austin bands. I also had the honor of working with Whit, who is one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Glad to hear that Kontiki has legs.

* The mighty tick. (Not to be confused with the mighty Tick.)

* This is awesome and terrifying and awesomely terrifying.

* This may be for you or for someone you know.

One more big push and this academic year will be but a memory. Until that point, however, here are two pictures of the animals doing what they do best.

Lucy doesn't look quite so stubby when she sleeps. We're coming up on our year anniversary of Corginess -- but more on that later.

Since Spring has finally come to Upstate New York, Barney has taken up his roof perch for the duration. The pot of boiling oil that he'll tip on local fauna is out of the frame.

Classes end on Wednesday. I can not wait.

"The thing is, Jackie, we are used to thinking yoga will change our body to the way we want it to be -- taller, thinner, stronger, more fluid -- and then, and only then, will we really be able to 'do' yoga. But we can only ever do yoga with the body we have in this very moment right now. 

"The first sutra or line of scripture from the traditional philosophy of yoga reads, 'Yoga is now.' It's a mandate to relate to yourself as you are. When we take our short arms and flabby thighs and gripped abdominals and bunions and muscle bound shoulders, not to mention our bad mood and our burning ambition and our irritating, competitive nature -- take all of that onto the mat with us and do yoga with all that in the mix -- then we are doing yoga. And if our arms get longer and our legs get thinner we won't care anymore. It's not about that. We will be integrated -- my favorite definition of yoga."

-- Cyndi Lee, May I Be Happy: A Memoir of Love, Yoga, and Changing My Mind.*

* FYI: Cyndi was gracious enough to talk to me for Sweater Quest and we struck up a friendship. I was fortunate enough to read a draft of her book back when it had a different title. She has made a tender, open book that explores how she "changed her mind" about a lot of things, many of which we all struggle with, like self-image and self-care. It's a stern hug of a book, if that makes sense, in all of the best ways.