martinimade

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.

Humans - well, those who think about such things - always envision aliens as somehow more enlightened than humanity, as if those on other planets (if they do exist) have solved all of the problems that humans keep inflicting upon themselves, like climate change and processed food and rush hour traffic. Seriously what are the odds? I take comfort in the thought that they are just as screwed up as we are, if, perhaps, about different things. Maybe their big potentially species ending hassle is about something we could never dream of, locked as we are on this Earth. 

* Rob Delaney speaks truth.

* My list would be remarkably similar.

* I LOL'd more than once. Respect.

* The parenting sweet spot. 

* There is nothing Scott Miller can't play.

The other night, Maddy came upstairs to let us know that she was doing a finger painting. This was the result:

That. Kid.

I'm painting, too. We moved into this house five-ish years ago. Not coincidentally, I've spent five-ish years wanting to paint my office. Why has it taken so long? It's not that I hate painting, which I totally do, it's that my office serves as an extension of my brain. Taking it apart and moving it to another room so that I can get to the bits that need painting is discombobulating, to say the very least. Still, it needs to be done. 

The befores:

That white board is all that stands between me and chaos. Totally not kidding.

I should by done by Thursday. Any guesses on what color I'm going for?

"Then she was eighteen years old she had almost drowned in the Kennebec River, not because of the pummeling current, but because she couldn't come up with a casual phrase with which to call for rescue. 'Help!' was such a cliche. By the time she was willing to scream, she had no breath left, and it was just blind luck that somebody saw her gasping and floundering and pulled her to shore. 'Why didn't you say something?' they wanted to know, and she said, 'I'm not a screamer.' 'Jesus,' said one of them, 'couldn't you have made an exception this one time?' 'Apparently not,' she said."

-- Jincy Willett, Amy Falls Down, which just came out and you should get if you like your fiction shot-through with wry heart. 

The mittens just keep coming!*

These are from Tracey in Arlington, VA. (Confidential to Tracey: I have Opinions about the Space Before the Thumb Gusset, too.)

These were handed to me at work at The Green Toad on Saturday. The same knitter also made these.

(If you're asking "why mittens?," click here. And thanks.)

Months ago, I linked to a blogger who'd made headbands out of old neckties. My Dad just happened to have some old neckties and sent them to me. I finally got around to doing something with them.

This is only maybe one-third of the bag o'ties. I pulled out all of the stripes to start with, because I love a good stripe. I drafted the Girl to model:

I'm wearing one myself right this second, too. You'll have to take my word for it, though.

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* Which is surprising and wonderful and awesome. You guys rock.

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.

Lately the dog has taken to jumping and snapping at any insect that flies near her. It’s hysterical, really, watching a corgi launch from stumpy legs at a horsefly.

It’s surprising how many bugs she catches. I mean, she’s not a danger to the local population. But any number of successes above zero is a win, when you’re only a foot off of the ground. 

Her face is what gets me. It’s a mix of delight and what-the-hell-is-in-my-mouth-and-would-it-be-cool-to-spit-it-out. It’s an expression I know well.

* Yup.

* I've been to this meeting.

* The latest parenting trend.

* I'd like to say I was surprised.

* Also: I'd like to say I was shocked by this study's conclusion.

* Why I'm not on Pinterest.

* I'm now a huge Tig Notaro fan. (And an aside to Chris Hardwick: It's OK if it's not always about you. Really.)

* #5 is my nemesis. 

* The Vitamin Myth.

* Eight simple goals, from the local almost daily.

* Also - I had the priviledge of giving the sermon at our UU church yesterday. I'll put the first reading here, then the rest of the sermon will be behind the cut, should you care to read it:

"Again, the folk of this region identified themselves with West more than East in their persistent superstition and credulity. Cosmopolitan influences spreading along commercial routes would gradually undermine the more extreme gullibility of the countryside, but even the sophisticated among the area’s citizens remained amazingly uncritical. President Eliphalet Nott of Union College voiced the classic statement of a prominent temperance doctrine that alcohol in the stomach might be ignited by spontaneous combustion and blow up the inebriate...Even a Universalist preacher had 'engaged the services of one of those impostors who, by looking into a mysterious glass, or rather stone, pretended to be able to discover hidden treasures.'”

"Everything isn't meant to be okay."

-- Green Day, "American Idiot."

I dug through the stash and found one little ball of Classic Elite's Majestic Tweed. Perfect, I thought, for one pair of mittens. Only it wasn't. Instead, it was perfect for one and a half mittens, which required buying another ball of the stuff. So much for moving yarns out of the stash.

Still, the mittens turned out well.

Into the bin they go. (And if you're asking "why mittens?," click here.)

In other yarn-y news, I ran into Peace, Love, & Yarn's Liz at Neil Gaiman's Saratoga Springs'* signing a couple of weeks ago, which was odd because I had no idea she'd be there and she just happened to walk past me at a time when I was looking up. "I have some yarn for your mittens," she said. "Great!" I said. 

Liz and her daughter went off in search of seats closer to the action. Yesterday, this box showed up:

The Lamb's Pride and Nature Spun will be distributed to any locals who want it for mittens. I'm keeping the Liz-dyed hank, tho, because I am selfish. Let me know if you'd like the others.

Finally, McGregor would like me to quit taking pictures and give him his sunny window seat back:**

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* I don't know that I blogged about it. Great fun, as you'd imagine an evening listening to Gaiman talk would be.

I actually worked on the now-finished mittens during the event itself. Because I am not good at waiting and listening.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a devastating, gorgeous piece of work that I devoured once I started it. The Pie Goddess, who was my date for the evening, and I didn't stick around for the signing. My randomly assigned letter put me in one of the later groups and I am old and tired. 

** Yes, we need new carpet - but are holding off until the Trout the Elderly Cat Who Has Grown Forgetful About the Litterbox shuffles off of this mortal coil. Which could be later this afternoon or in 2019. For now, we are Living With It.