A dropped stitch

Life Goes on

Most of you who read my blog on  a regular basis, know I go to AA, and quit drinking and doing drugs a little over 7 years ago.  I joke all the time about trading cocaine for merino, and champagne for alpalca. 

"Why spend your money on crack, when you can buy koigu?"  Sometimes, I think I am too flip about.  Sometimes, I think I take my sobriety for granted.  It's been a long, long time since I have thrown up, passed out, forgotten what I did the night before, woke up and didn't know where I was, or woke up to find I had depleted my bank account.  This week, I was once again reminded how "gosh, darn luck I am to be sober" and how sadly there are a lot of people walking around that just don't GET IT.   

On the morning, of July 7th, I woke up feeling sorry for myself.  I was thinking about our house and our mortgage; my job and my lack of free time; my best friend who hasn’t talked to me in 6 months; the home owner who had me re-do his location agreements 6 times and still wasn’t signing; the director who had seen all the locations on the movie three times and still wanted to scout next Saturday.

All and all, it was just the typical Monday morning pity party, and then I walked by a tractor trailer who had got stuck underneath the elevated train.  For some damn reason, this guy decided to drive his tractor trailer under this overpass.  He ripped off the top of his semi.  He was having a bad day.  I was just dealing with “luxury” problems. 

Things could be worse, they could be a hell of a lot worse, and about an hour later, my luxury bad day turned into a “real” bad day. 

When we left our house in GA, we turned the keys and our house over to a 24 year old.  By all accounts, my husband and I knew that the young lady we turn the house over to was a kid.  Our attitude was it would probably be okay though, because her dad lived less than three miles away, and we have a great next door neighbor, family down the road, and good neighbors on the block.  I knew this kid was a slob, but I figured having to hire a cleaning crew 6 months down the road was a small price to pay to keep our cats alive and our house from being broken into.

Both DH and I went through all the rules.  “You can have guys over, but no big parties. You can drink in the house, but don’t do drugs.  Lock the house before you leave, Run the AC, but try to keep the cost down.”  The usual crap you tell a house sitter.  I sent her money once a month for cat food, and we knew that she was staying at the house, but our next door neighbor who works a day job and owns a business was going to be the one who really kept the house from burning down. 

Eight short weeks later, we get the call that all absentee home owner’s dread. Last night, a 21 year old boy died in our bed.  The long and short of it is that our house sitter had given the key to our house to her friend, and her friend had brought a guy over and the kid had been taking pills and drinking and had a seizure.  The rest of the afternoon the phone kept ringing. 

At first, DH thought he was going to quit his job and get on a plane and go back to GA and deal with everything.  I thought he was being over paranoid, but about 5 hours later the reality started settling in, and I was starting to think he should get on a plane. 

I think the thing that was and has been the most unsettling to me, is how little I care about the young man who died in my house, and how much I keep worrying about my cat.  I also kept obsessively thinking about the smell.    

So at 3am on July 8th, when I should of been sleeping, I found myself up on the internet looking up crime scene clean up.  I also kept thinking about the girl who woke up next to this boy.  I met the girl, and I remember when I met her, thinking that she was a walking traffic accident.  I quit drinking and doing drugs because too many late nights of partying and too many hangovers left me frightened.  I spent a lot of sleepless nights wishing I would either die or fall asleep and not really carrying which option it was, as long as something would kill my head.  My husband doesn’t get how this could happen. I “get it” and wish I didn’t.

Today is July 12th, five days have passed, and the short version, is we didn't have to hire a clean up crew or fly home.  We have an amazing support system in place in Georgia.   Our neighbor, and our very shook up, young house sitter cleaned the house and the bed.  D Nephew changed the locks, and DN called me daily to give me the updates.  She also said the ONLY 4 words during all this that really mattered.

"I'll clean it up." 

The past two days, I was on a tech scout.  I worked from 7am-10pm, and had absolutely no time to think about the house until this morning.  When I woke up this morning, my first thought was that I had to get my ass to a meeting, and check in.  My second thought was that I really needed to spend some time knitting this weekend.

Now if you have made it this far into reading this post, I will tell you why I posted this particular photo this morning. 

Many days, I feel like my sobriety has turned me from a sexy, hip party girl into an old prude.

  Sometimes, I miss the late nights of drug use, the insanity of walking into a bar and hitting on the first cute guy I see, and "well....  quite frankly .....

going home with him." 

And yet, seven years later, I still don't drink and I still go to meetings, because quite frankly I don't want to wake up next to a dead guy.  And the house, the bed, all our world belongings they are just objects.  The most important things that I own are the things that own me: my animals, my knitting, my career, my friends, my family and my sobriety.

 

 

Losing my Religion

I was talking to DN today.  It was raining, I was working, and it was Sunday. "Do I need to state that  I was in a bad mood?" We talked for awhile about our families, my job, her job, etc.  And like every other time we talk, she asked me what I had been knitting.  If I was feeling cranky before, the subject of my knitting or lack thereof, made me feel crankier.  I love talking to DN about my latest project, and not having a latest project to talk about just made me feel OFF.

I met my husband's niece a 3 years ago.  I fell in love with her immediately, and several months into our friendship, she fell in love with knitting.   She had been crocheting for years, and she had learned how to knit as a child, but had forgotten a lot of it.   Selfishly, I was more than happy to help her remember.

I talked her through her first dishcloth, gave her my beloved wristers pattern, and watched with admiration as she went from lopsided dishcloths to toe up socks in a few short years.   She is the person, I go to most often when I want to talk about yarn. She will politely listen as I go on and on about the trials and traumas of lace.  Last winter, when I was out of work and feeling emotionally drained I could call her up and we would talk and talk and talk about knitting.  And for 45 minutes or so, I would forget how broke I was.  I would forget how unemployed I was.   And I would feel very rich. 

When she asked me about my knitting today, I told her I had finally finished my toe up socks (they're tight), and I had made a dishcloth (woo-hoo).  I didn't mention my ice queen (stalled); my wisp (hibernating); my icarus (hibernating); the fawkes socks (frogged).  She had read last week's entry so she already knew about THAT DAMNED BUCKET HAT. 

For some darn reason, THAT DAMNED BUCKET HAT has gotten under my skin.  Prior to talking to DN, I had gone to the LYS (a.k.a. Brooklyn General) and decided that the only way out of my knitting funk was to try and attack the DAMN HAT again.  I explained to Heather (the nice lys lady) my problem.  She suggested some Hempathy.  I am just now realizing how wonderfully fitting that is.  It's a thin yarn, hemp, cotton, and modal, but I think it has enough weight to it, that it might hold the shape.   Anyway,  I am planning to try it again. 

Prior to embarking on this adventure, I decided to cast on yet another pair of toe up socks.  Here's the thing, even when I complain about NOT knitting.  I'm still knitting.  It's like eating, sleeping, farting, or any other daily activity.  I have no control over it, I have to knit, but there is knitting something great like the "Clapotis" or the "Kaylees" and then there is making another dishcloth.  Okay, forgive me, but it's like masturbation versus a steamy love affair.  One scratches the itch, the other SCRATCHES THE  ITCH.

To give you an idea of how far, I've sunk into my knitting depression, here is something I found not one, not two, not three, not seven, but probably ten days ago, and I am just now blogging about it.

Yes, your eyes are not deceiving you, it's a room full of yarn.  My knitting funk has gotten so great, even mountains of yarn has not pulled me out of it.  I look at this yarn, and I say to myself, "Self what's the use?  You'll never be able to get gauge on it."

Of course, it is a bit hard to get gauge when most of your knitting occurs at traffic lights.  On the bright side, I did manage to get another pair of toe up socks on the needles.  The yarn is TOFUsies, and pink and white. It  was donated to me by one of my knitting girls in Macon.   Have I mentioned how much I love the other knitters in my life?   

So if another week goes by where the only knitting I do is at traffic lights, at least I will be knitting toe up socks and not dishcloths.

I quit.

I almost quit knitting yesterday.  This temporary bought of insanity was brought on by a hat pattern.  Several years ago, my friend Eve made this really cute bucket hat.  I coveted the hat and the pattern, and did something I rarely do which is purchased the pattern.  It’s not a complicated pattern, I even finished the hat once in microspun which gave me a horrible floppy hat, and I threw the hat away.  A month later, I threw the yarn away. 

I attempted the pattern again last summers again with a fine yarn and I can’t remember why it didn't take.  Now, thinking back I am wondering if maybe this yarn might be worth a second look.  Hmm.

This week, I again attempted this pattern.  I am not certain what was wrong with the other 4 projects, I had on the needles:

-toe up socks
-the wisp
-the ice queen
-icarus

Other than that they are all in wool, and I was in need of a cotton fix. I’m not sure why, I was feeling this way because I actually don’t like knitting in cotton, prefer wool, and all four of these projects are small and knit on size 4 or smaller needles. 

For some damn reason, a white cotton bucket hat seemed to be the answer to all my problems.  I also just stared a new movie, and I think I wanted to make sure I had an easy pattern to carry me through the drama.  In my mind, I was thinking that if this pattern took, I could even make another bucket hat for all my friends.

I tried the hat out first on a bamboo linen, I had laying around.  The linen is sturdy, and it looked like I was getting gauge.  The fact that the stitches where falling off size 0 (yes, I was down to size 0’s) seemed like a bad sign, but I figured I would go a few rows and see.

Next, I tried the kitchen cotton.  I think I had even bought this yarn for this project two years ago.  I spent most of Saturday knitting away, it seemed big, but I figured let me get a few inches in, and then I’ll take it off the needles and try on.  I was once again on size 0’s.  I tried the hat on, and it looked more like a sweater.  I’m not sure how to describe the feeling I got from this encounter.  RAGE, FRUSTRATION, DESPAIR, SELF-PITY.

One or all of those might do.  I thought about quitting knitting.  I mean, obviously I suck at it since I had knit 4 inches on a hat that not only was too big, but theoretically if I kept working on could be made into a skirt.  My next thought was maybe I needed to learn how to knit.  I am a continental knitter which means as a general rule, I have to go down two sizes to get gauge.  I contemplated switching to the knitting right handed.  I know how to knit right handed, I just can’t figure out how to purl.  Maybe I should learn?

Finally, what I ended up doing was pulling out my toe-up socks which do fit me, and knitting a few rows on them.  Once the malaise  passed, I moved on to ripping back my ice queen.  I am not sure when I got angry with it, but it might have been last weekend.  In any case, I stoically ripped back.

As a general rule, knitting soothes me.  I also think that for most part,  I am a pretty decent knitter. My rows are even, I don’t twist stitches, and what I lack in technique, I make up for in diligence.  I have made several pairs of toe up socks.  The first three pairs had messy heals, but the pair I am working on now, my heals look pretty good.  It may take me awhile, but slowly I am learning how to knit neater. 

I have found other knitters to be very grounding.  Last week,  Nishanna showed us her first lace project (the icarus).  We oohhed and ahhed.  I modeled it, and exclaimed I must start working on mine again.  She pointed out her mistakes.  It’s funny because if she had not  pointed them out, I  wouldn't of noticed.  I really wouldn't of.  This from the girl who unravled five inches on the secret of the stole because one stitch looked wonky. 

I am sure when I share my hat experience with the girls, they will laugh and make soothing noises, and probably offer up their own stories.   

I know my experience is far from unique to knitters.  In "Casts Off" by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, she dedicates an entire chapter on Common Ailments for knitter.  In episode 52 of "Cast On", Brenda talks about her losing and finding her knitting mojo.  I know this too shall pass.  I just have to find the right project and the right yarn, and soon I will back to my old knitting self.  In the mean time, I will keep picking up and putting down my other four projects hoping one of them will talk to me.

I spent months working on the Meadow Flowers Shawl, before it called out to me.   Some projects like my dear Kaylees, and the Clapotis were immediate.  Perfect yarn, perfect needle, perfect fit.  Others aren't meant to happen.  It makes me sad, because I know I would look very cute in a bucket hat. 

Summer Knitting

I love summer. 

The beach, the pool, the park, the backyard.  This time of year, I am happy to lay out anywhere and everywhere.  My love for this time of year goes so deep that the only functioning chair we have in our apartment is my beach chair.  The chair has followed me from Park Slope, Brooklyn down to Macon and now back to Brooklyn.  I had DH pack the chair into the trunk of the car while other dear items where left behind.  A good chair is hard to find, and a chair that reminds me of numerous days of laying out and enjoying fresh air and sunshine, well, that’s priceless.  I have also tried out numerous other sun chairs and found them lacking, but I digress. 

I knit year round.  Like most knitters, I will switch to cotton as it gets hotter, downsize my projects to mostly portable, socks, small bags, maybe a scarf if it’s lace.  I started knitting lace my first summer in Macon, when I discovered summer started in April and went until October. 

Last Thursday, I met with my Bay Ridge knitters, and like me they had also made the switch to summer projects.

Nishanna was knitting the Flower Basket Shawl, in what looked to be a cotton blend.  Apparently, it was one of those yarns where it has attempted to be a few things, and still has yet to find it's calling.

 

Grace was finishing up a tank top.   

I spent the whole meeting ripping back my ice queen.  For some damn reason, I keep screwing it up.   The project is not a difficult one, but the mohair makes it impossible to see the mistakes as they happen and there are 3 plain knit rows in between the pattern rows so I don’t the mistakes until my count is off. 

Saturday was knit in public day. 

Okay, to me this wasn’t such a big deal, because when isn’t it knit in public day?  I, mean, seriously...

There were events going on in the city, and if I had felt more "lonely and isolated", and "less burnt out and tired," I probably would of tried to track down some knitters.  Instead, I decided to go the Renegade Craft Fair with DH.

It was held in the Williamsburg Pool which has been closed for many years and now is open again.

It was walking around this craft fair that I discovered something I did not know before, and that is that once it hits 88 degrees outside the yarn could be cashmere and free, and I would still have no interest in touching it.  In fact the only thing that walking around the craft fair and looking at woolens made me want to do was go home and sit in the AC.

Thankfully, 10 minutes in AC and I was back to myself again and knitting.

Then 10 minutes later, I was ripping back the damn ice queen.

And 10 minutes after that, I was working on my toe up socks, which require no thought at all. 

This is the other thing, I have noticed about my summer knitting. Not only does my attention span and ability to focus go right out the window, my interest in having an attention span and an ability to focus goes out the window also.  It's like  give me some yarn, give me some needles, and give me a nice place to sit. 

I see a lot of toe up stockinette and garter stitch in my immediate future. 

The Ice Queen & Chick Lit

It's Sunday.  I took the dogs for a walk around 10am.  DH made me breakfast around noon, and now it's almost 4pm. I am on my 4th Iced Coffee. DH and I have discussed walking down to Blockbuster to get a movie, but this would require me getting out of the bed and putting some clothes on.

Work was a killer the past two weeks, and I am just now starting to feel better.   The show I was on was fast a furious. It kicked off with midnight scout last Monday, and wrapped up Friday night around 8pm.  Everything in between was a blur, and when I woke up on Saturday morning I felt like I had spent the last few days on Acid,minus all the cool pretty colors, and double the headache. 

I have found that the best cure for this type of exhaustion is 8 hours of bad tv,oreo cookies, and knitting with some luxurious fiber.  Unfortunately, we don't have cable yet, and even if we did DH doesn't understand my need to watch an entire season of Desperate Housewives in one sitting. Thankfully, I was able to resort to plan B which is Audible.com.   On Saturday, I downloaded "Everyone I Know" which is by the same author that wrote "Devil Wears Prada."   

This morning, I woke up at 7am, and spent 3 hours knitting the Ice Queen.

Hello, Gorgeous.

A couple times, I have had to chase DH away, and explain to him, that part of having a Girlie-girl for a wife is that I need time to for "chick lit, and to knit pretty things."  On a similar vein, I went to visit my friend Betsy last night.  She is eight and a half months pregnant, and like me in desperate need of a "trash transfusion".  We went to go see "Sex in the City".  Costume changes and all, it was escapism at it's most fabulous.

It showed the New York, I am so in love with but can't afford.  Central Park apartments, small dogs in
outfits, platters of sushi, and couture.  Actually when it comes to designer clothes, I could care less, but I understand Carrie Bradshaw's love of Prada, because it so closely resembles my love of cashmere.  Quality is  quality,my friends.  Although, I will happily shop off the racks for clothes, I wouldn't be caught dead knitting with Red Heart. 

On that note, I have to share one fabulous perk of my job.  On one of our sets, I recently spotted this lovely piece of weaving.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the shoot ogling over this piece of fabric.  So much so that when I woke up this morning, I was able to take a photograph of it surrounded by my recent works in progress, and my ipod.

 

 

BTW, I am pretty sure the toe up socks have been knitting themselves.  Or maybe that was the acid?

Charlotte's Web

I have been working my a-- off the last couple weeks, and I have had a horrible cold.  In fact, this cold is by far one of the worst I have ever encountered because no matter what I do, it seems to keep coming back.  I am on my third go round.  Despite this, my mood has been fairly up beat, and my biggest complaint is that I haven't gotten much knitting done because I have no energy, no time, and very little attention span.  It seems about the only time I have had to knit lately has been on the subway.

Today, I was on the train knitting away on my toe up socks thinking to myself how glad I was to have ten minutes to myself when I looked up and I read this:

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter - the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last - the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion."   (EB White)

I have been in New York City since I was 20.  Half my life I have lived in this city.  A lot of days, I feel jaded and tired, and yet there are moments ....

where I feel a sense of awe, and captivation.

Most of the time, I am moved by the big things:

-Times Square at Night
-driving over the Brooklyn Bridge
-Frank Sinatra

But once in awhile, it's the little things that get me:

-like knitting on the subway, reading a quote by one of my favorite childhood author's, and realizing that he was writing about the place that I call home. 

A three day weekend

I love three day weekends.  Usually, if I am experiencing a three day weekend it means I am working.  It's great because it's a small break in the middle of a job, but not a long lapse of unemployment.  I get to rest and enjoy time off, but I know there is still a paycheck to go back to.  In the middle of the three day weekend, is Sunday.  Sunday, by far is the best part. 

On Saturday, I'm usually too fried out from work to entirely enjoy the day, and on Monday I start to think about the job and what all I still have to do, and sometimes like today, I will even end up doing a little work.  But Sunday, is perfect.

This Sunday, we took the dogs and went to Prospect Park.

 

Denny read, while I turned a heel.

I have been on a toe up sock jag for quite awhile. 

Up until this weekend, these socks were knitted on the subway, but on Friday night

woo-hoo, I took the show on the road. 

I turned off my laptop, and started a knitting marathon.  I finished the DBB, that has been annoying me for weeks now.  I started closing in on the project about a week ago, and I told myself I couldn't cast on anything new until it was finished.   I also decided to donate $10 to my Cash for Stash fund for finishing this project. 

Selfish knitter that I am, I need lots of incentives to finish projects that aren't for me. 

I need to block this puppy, but here is what the baby blanket looks like finished.   It puckers a little in the middle.  Totally annoying, I am hoping when I block it, I can fix it.  If not, it still turned out pretty fab.

Sadly, it's  already Monday, and although I was able to cast on the Ice Queen, I haven't gotten.   I am on row  3, and I am already having to unravel and find a mistake.   

The picot bind off on the blanket took forever to finish.  My toe up socks required a little undivided attention to get those heels turned.  This is my 4th attempt at using the heel technique found in Simple Socks Plain and Fancy.  It's a yarn over heel, and finally, I have been able to turn the heel and leave no holes.  I still have gaping holes between the needles when I re-join.  It's annoying, but with the help of  a crochet I  pick up the holes between the gaps and knit them  together with  a real stitch and you really can't see them in the final product.

So now both heels are complete and back on magic loop, and ready to travel. Somehow, I don't see the ice queen, become a subway project.  Beads, wire, lace.  Hmm.  Hopefully, I might get a little time tonight to work on it.   Here is a preview:

Sexy, right? 

The Daily Grind

By car it takes me about an hour and ten minutes  to get from my apartment to my office. 

It takes about an hour on the subway, but then I can listen to my ipod and knit.

This morning, it was raining so I decided to drive.  Ugh.  I have been in New York for a little over a month, and for the first time this morning, I really missed my house in Macon.  I missed the trees, I missed little kitty, and I missed the monotony.  It dawned on me that I am back in New York, and I am back to work which translates into very little down time.  The majority of my hours are filled by work, and the hours that are filled by work seem to be spent in traffic or sleeping. 

As I was driving into work this morning, I thought about my best friend.   I haven't talked to her since December.   For those of you tuning into this blog for the first time, the short version is that after 20 years of friendship my best friend decided to break up with me last December.  There was no big blow out, no tears, just a brief email where she told me she was too physically ill to deal with the chaos of my busy life.

Then I started thinking about DH, and how crazy his smoking makes me.  And then I thought about my godfather who died three years ago, and I thought about how fleeting our lives are.

And then I thought about what a b--tch, I have been this week because I had to work last weekend, and because I am sleep deprived, and because I haven't  had any time to myself.

And then I remembered it was Friday, and I felt a hell of a lot better.  And then I thought about knitting, and I felt better still.

Last night was my weekly STnB.

There were only 4 of us in attendance last night.  Here are a few pictures us oggling my friend Eve's circumnavigated cardigan.     Eve explained how it was constructed, but last night I had the attention span of a ferret on caffeine (like this is anything new).

One cool thing that happened this week was that DH did a little shopping for the apartment, and he bought me some closet organizers.   

I know he was hoping that I would finally put some of my damn clothes away, but .......

a free futon, a gift certificate, and a cancellation

First, let's start with the free furniture.  On my list things, I have always loved about New York is the free furniture.  When I moved into my new apartment, I bough a lamp, an air mattress, sheets, and a coffee maker with an alarm.  I knew that if I hunkered down and waited, the city would provide the rest.  It's not a question of where I would get stuff, it was just a question of when.

As it turns out, I only had to wait 4 short days for the first delivery.  As I watched the action on my block, I noticed that these sweet young hipsters were loading up a U-Haul.

It turns out the kid in the red shirt (in the middle) was moving back to North Carolina. Him and his wife are having twins.  Next to the UHaul, they had placed a set of bookshelves and a table on the sidewalk.  I asked if they were leaving it.  They were, and as it turns out they were also leaving a perfectly good futon.

DH arrived about an hour after this exchange.  He was very happy about the futon, and immediately turned the bookshelves over on their side, put a piece of cardboard across them, and declared the rig our new coffee table. 

He spent the week shopping.  Target, the grocery store, etc.  I spent the week trying to plan for my big Saturday night in Times Square.  I ordered cops; booked three holding/ catering areas; filed permits; got onto rooftops; etc.  Overall, I was feeling pretty confident that my production company would be able to go into Times Square on Saturday night, and film away. 

During all this, I got a message on my cell phone that I had won a gift certificate from Knitch.   Okay, this is where I openly declare that I NEVER win anything.  I have been on this planet for almost 40 years, and my luck just doesn't run that way.  I believe everyone has a way there luck runs.  My friend Ricky has a witchy finger and can locate free furniture from 10 miles away.  DNephew can locate cars.  My friend Nicole wins yarn.  Me, my luck runs more of the apartment variety.  I have never won a free apartment, mind you, but I have landed some pretty nice apartments in New York.  I also have had pretty good luck with cars.  Only one of the cars, I owned, however was out and out free.  As for lotteries, raffles, etc. I never bother because I just don't win. 

Apparently, my theory on this is incorrect, because Knitch called me on Thursday and told me, I won a $50 gift certificate.  I can not express to you how happy this made me.  And only here in the safety of my blog can I admit the truth.  On Saturday night, I laid in bed for hours obsessing over what yarn to get.  Finally, I settled on kid silk haze and some noro sock yarn.

I almost got the noro sock yarn the last time I was at knitch and the kid silk haze has been in my thoughts for many months.  BTW, I finished the kaylees.

Being the completely neurotic knitter that I am immediately cast on another pair of socks.  I wanted to make the toe up monkeys, but the yarn was essentials from knit picks.  It's nice yarn, very soft, but even on 0's I was getting 6 stitches to an inch, not the 8 that I needed.  Okay, this is where I confess that I have become a toe up sock junkie, and all my other projects have been neglected.  It turns out toe up socks are perfect for train knitting.  I have also just started knitting two socks on magic loop.  I promise to post more about this later.  The kaylees were started as a one sock on two circs, then became one sock on one magic loop needle, and I finished both of them on one long needle.  Anyway, I am still getting the hang of magic loop, and knitting two socks at the same time, so although I was disappointed about the large gauge, I decided to rip back to 50 stitches, and just soldier on with a twisted rib pattern.  I am also hoping that if I get a little bored with toe up socks, I might go back to knitting my icarus or put in some time on the damn baby blanket I am knitting.

Hello, the baby is due in July, I really need to get to work on this thing.

Oh, the cancellation.  On Thursday night, we went to Times Square to tech scout.  It was raining, and the projection for Saturday was also rain.  On Friday morning, as I was scrambling to clear an awning, I got the call.  LA decided to cancel.   As it turns out, it didn't rain at all on Saturday night.  This is the kind of stuff that would of made me crazy five years ago. 

Now, not so much.  Also it gave DH and I a chance to hang out.  And it gave me a chance to finish my kaylee socks. 

 

Settling in (sort of)

It's a happening Friday night in Brooklyn.  Woo-hoo, party time.   After a frustrating long week scouting in Times Square, I opted to stay in tonight and watch Desperate Housewives on my computer, and work on my icarus.

After 2 weeks of neglect, I have found it very soothing to, once again,  have lace weight yarn in my hands. After spending so many hours working on the Secret of the Stole, this spring, I was starting to go into lace withdrawl.   On that note, my stash arrived today.  I have yet to crack anything open, but it's comforting to see my boxes. 

Hah, most of these boxes I have had for 3 years now, and the have been going back and forth from NYC to Macon.   Who would of thought that a carboard box could have so much history?

DH and the dogs will be arriving tomorrow. I can't wait to see them, but  I am a little nervous.  I went to the Costgo today and bought some food, and a fan.  Costgo is a little weird to shop in.  Every time, I go in there I spend $100, and I get home, and I still have nothing to eat.

But I will have 10 sponges or 8 bottles of ketchup.

For the last week or so, I have been camping out in the middle room of our apartment.  This is because I can seal it off from the rest of the apartment, and I hung a sheet that is working as a curtain for privacy.

Today, I got so sick of being in the middle room, I moved the air mattress into the back room. 

Here is the room I vacated:

And at 7pm, after I took my shower and realized I was too tired to go out,so I moved the air mattress back to the middle room.   

I asked DH to bring me my little sun chair.  I can't wait for it to get here, so I have something else to sit on besides this damn air mattress.   You'll recognize the chair when you see it, it gets featured a lot in this blog.   

Oh, and I have made some new friends.

Here are pictures from knit night in Bay Ridge.

These girls are great.  As usual, I talked a million miles an hour, and went on and on, and probably gave them too much information on my life. 

I almost feel like sending them messages right now, and saying, "Hi, ladies, just so you know, I didn't mean to hijack the conversation last night, but I had spent all week alone in my apartment, and the only conversations I had were about Times Square and the movie I am working on. 

Oh, last but not least, here are the lovely kaylees.

That's it for now.