May 24, 2011
a lot has changed. (camel lights don’t even exist anymore)
i’m not sure if it’s just living in pittburgh for a the past two years,
or the fact that it looks like a bunch of money got poured into this town.
i feel very underdressed.
like someone’s going to ask me to park their car or something.
i miss the dirtier, poorer royal oak of my youth.
this is my third trip to michigan in as many weeks,
doing the whole family duty thing.
chopping up trees.
moving old people around,
both automotively and manually.
i’m hoping to make this my last trip
before i actually move back here.
last week, while driving home,
i wrote a hilarious little blog post on my iphone,
but the wordpress app ate it.
it felt dishonest to try to reconstruct it,
so i’ll just say this: it involved heartfelt comments about my family,
observations about michiganders’ relationship to food a the road,
my current knitting project,
and a cinnabon.
don’t you hate my wordpress app as well?
it’s been almost two years since we’ve been in each other’s company,
but she’s that kind of friend where you pick up right where you left off,
laughing and gossiping like we were 18 all over again.
it feels good to know i have a friend like her in the world.
i hope you do too.
**tomorrow, i’ll show you my big bag o yarn. promise.
May 9, 2011
when some bloggers travel, you get photos and witty banter from the airport. i, on the other hand, am driving home to michigan, and am too tired to be truly witty.
i’ve got no knitting on me so i hope you’ll be content with this picture of my rest stop breakfast.
it’s not much, but it’s what I got.
it’s not easy blogging from an iphone.
give me a little credit.
i promise there’s more maryland sheep and wool fun coming soon. just cut me some slack, ok?
May 1, 2011
right before i went into the hospital,
everything was all set for my summer romp in new york;
i was ready to apartment hunt, and add my body to hordes.
then i got sick.
then there were surgeries.
then i almost died a couple of times.
and the proverbial wrench was thrown into the works.
my internship in new york didn’t disappear.
i just had to wait till my picc line was pulled,
and the doctors said they were done with me.
as of yesterday,
they’re done with me.
now it was up to me to decide if i’m well enough,
strong enough, to take on the big apple.
no pressure or anything.
the truth is,
i am still healing.
i’m weak, and even with big time drugs,
i’m in a lot of pain.
since the day i got out,
the question has been,
how badly do i want this?
is my desire for a summer of fun greater than my need to heal?
finding the answer has been all i could think about for weeks.
and as if my family hasn’t been through enough,
my father flipped his suv friday night and is in the hospital.
(note: whoever decided that waiting all night to notify my mother that my father was in the hospital so she had to wait up for hours wondering where her husband was, fuck you. you should be fired.)
or as fine as possible.
the pressure has been unbearable.
finally, i just had to ask myself, what do you want?
and the answer came right out of my mouth.
so listen up, bitches.
i have made my decision.
i’m giving up my internship.
shocking i know.
i simply don’t have it in me right now.
i just need to have a relaxing summer.
i want to spend time with my family,
with the people i love.
i need to heal.
soon enough, i’ll be thrown back to the wolves,
to ruthless maw of michigan state’s english department.
don’t get me wrong, i’m totally stoked that i’m going there.
getting my phd has been a goal i’ve worked toward for years now,
and there’s no better place to do the work i want to do than at msu.
but taking this summer means i can really prepare,
that i can take my time to get ready for the next five years of my life.
i always knew i might have to choose between the two opportunities,
that they would end up conflicting with each other.
in any event,
this is what i want,
which i suppose is all the reason i need.
now all i need to figure out is
where the hell i’m going to live this summer.
in other news, i fully recognize that there is only so much life drama you dear readers are willing to put up with before you get bored.
fiber is your drug of choice.
tomorrow there will be a post.
and i promise, it is completely
and totally knitting related.
cross my heart.
April 22, 2011
i’ve pulled through.
i’m recovering happily at home.
the meds i’m on make it a little difficult to focus,
but here’s what i’ll say:
whatever you feel about healthcare,
who gets it, how it’s paid for, and how we deal with it here,
all i know is that the healthcare system did not fail me.
without it, i would be dead now.
there are several instances where i came close to it.
like i said,
the drugs are making it difficult to do normal things.
recovering makes it difficult to do normal things.
but in the next couple days,
i have some yarny goodness planned for you.
stick with me bitches.
mostly, though, i want to say thank you.
thank you to all the readers, inter-knitters, and friends
for your good thoughts, your well wishes, comments and prayers,
for all the tweets, texts, visits, and vibes from across the globe.
it was a dark time for me,
you all helped keep me strong.
so thanks, bitches.
i’m still here!
April 13, 2011
i begin this post with a caveat; i’m in the hospital, on narcotics, and writing from my ipod. editors of the world cool it, k?
dear blogosphere. i have not forsaken you intentionally. at first, super secret knitting and subsequent lack of anything resembling knitting mojo kept me from writing. then it was the sheer gravity of the changes my life was soon to face. i found everything to be a bit much, and the writing stopped.
i surprised everyone by leaving natural stitches a month early. i’d saved enough to pay my bills and thought the time off would be good for me, give me extra time to hunt for an apt in nyc, and hang with the people i love in the burgh.
and that’s when i realized that i accidentally started settling down here. pittsburgh was always supposed to be a stepping stone in my life plans. somehow, after years of being a nomad, my desire to heed the north wind was greatly diminished. i no longer wanted to leave, and had made absolutely no way for me to continue living here.
i have an internship in new york, and position in the phd program i most wanted in my home state waiting for me in the fall.
and yet, i want to stay.
there are people i love here, people i don’t want to lose. people i want to continue knitting with, laughing over tacos or pho or brunch. gossiping, hugging, fucking.
you know. a happy life.
but love won’t pay my bills, nor secure for me a future i’ve been building towards for years. that’s on me.
not making a viable option for staying in pittsburgh is the first real regret i can point to in my life. i guess that’s not too bad for twenty six years.
then things happened that were totally blogable and slipped through:
my final package from my secret pal, a kick ass canadian with excellent taste in yarn (angora merino bitches!) and wool wash (eucylan is all i use). and my first two skeins of my first three ply yarn.
posts only ever written in my head.
just when the super secret knitting was getting close to being finished (about a week early even) so i didn’t feel bad about skipping a night of knitting to hit up my friend’s birthday party, my stomach hurt.
laying down seemed like the best course of action. then everything’s a blur:
calling home crying.
googling an emergency room.
trying to find it (thank you iphone).
your appendix maybe?
that bitch and I divorced ten years ago.
drove home on crazy drugs with rx for more, and instructions for what to do if things got worse/better.
frantic calls to get a ride back to er.
er now full of people clearly not in an emergency situation, but get treated before me anyway.
more scans with dye in me.
dye makes me feel like i’m on fire/wetting the bed.
more crazy crazy drugs.
it is my appendix.
apparently, it can happen.
i can never be normal.
almost a week later, after too many strangers have seen my cock, ass, and jiggly bits, after getting excited about farting, and taking the messiest shit known to man (and not being able to clean up unaided), after projectile vomiting sticky green goo all over myself not once, but twice, the long and the short of it is, something is keeping my pipes from fully getting started up again. this means more surgery to cut at scar tissue, and maybe remove some bits i rather wish i could keep.
this is serious. if the surgery doesn’t go well, and i don’t get flowing fast enough this time, it could be months of recovery.
no one prepares you for when the scary shit is gonna mess with *you* this time. luckily, i haven’t been alone in all this or god knows I wouldn’t have made it this far. i got two loving parents, a soul twin, a mixologist/driver, my mother/sister/aunt, two of the best men i’ve ever met to make me laugh and help me walk, and tweeters from far and wide to comfort my weary soul. not too shabby in terms of visitors and well wishers.
plus the person in the next room sounds way worse off than i am.
it’s the little things.
March 27, 2011
hey there bitches!
how’re things with you?
how am i doing?
well i’m feeling a little . . . odd tonight.
i think it’s this house sitting gig i’ve got.
all this alone time in a big old house,
no one to talk to but some cats,
and the tivo,
my god! the tivo!
i think it’s making me a little stir crazy.
i feel the cabin fever descending.
since all i’m working on is some super secret knitting,
i have nothing at all fibery to share with you all tonight.
but i still feel the need to keep you entertained.
let’s go to the bathroom shall we?
a photo shoot in the shower is just the ticket.
let’s have some fun with facial hair!
i can’t show the last pic.
a naked-face pic is just going to far,
even for me.
i’m a lady.
March 20, 2011
we’ve a lot of ground to cover,
and not a lot of time in which to do it.
i. i’ve had a really rough couple days. very personal life stuff that’s not appropriate to go into. i will, however, give you an idea of the “level” of roughness i’m talking about. i warn you now this is most likely an overshare; i’ve probably consumed that same amount of calories in the past 72 hours that i usually do in 24. i have no urge to knit. i have the sex drive of a 95 year old man. (told ya. overshare). and, after a very long time not smoking, i smoked three cigarettes at my parents’ house. sometimes, emotions suck.
ii. i am much better know, and want absolutely no comments about item i. on this blog, i am god. i will delete all comments on item i.
iii. today was day one of “knitting for speed and efficiency” with stephanie pearl-mcphee. setting aside my feelings for her as a fan, i have to say she’s pretty fucking sweet in the classroom. it’s a totally pressure free environment, and she has this was of blowing your mind with the simplest statement. she’s also really patient when you get frustrated (which we all are at one point or another). her knitting proficiency and comedic timing may be the qualities that she’s known for, but it’s those moments of kindness with a discouraged student that i’ll hang on to.
iv. that was sappy, and i don’t care. item v. will be sappy too.
v. i met someone cool in class today. she’s one of those people who you meet, and you can immediately sense that they’re special. i can count on one hand the times that’s happened to me. i know of her from the blogosphere, and you probably do too. it’s weird how, because you’ve read about someone on the internet, you think you know them; it’s like that false sense of intimacy you can have with a character in a novel. we get excited to see fiber celebrities, and feel the need to accost them, introducing ourselves like some friend we haven’t seen in a while. people seem to forget that, while you know details about their life, they know nothing about you.
so, when i meet a fiber-famous person in an intimate setting like a class or a retreat, i try (keyword) to just behave as i do when i meet any new person, basing our interaction whatever happens organically instead of the facts i know about them from online. i also try to let them make the first move. luckily, i am inherently shy so that part is easy. i talk a lot of trash, but it takes a lot to overcome my inner awkward and talk to new people. (evidence: i sat alone at lunch. there were open chairs with knitters at the restaurant, but i didn’t have the courage to invite myself). of course at a fiber festival, or if i’ve been drinking at all, this method goes right out the fucking window. today, though, i was fairly well behaved.
luckily for me, i picked a seat at the right table in the classroom, and denny introduced herself right away. it’s hard to put into words what she’s actually like. she has mad energy about her, she radiates it. she’s obviously mischievous, but in a completely unmalicious was. she is quick to smile and as soon as she does, you want to smile too.
it was exactly the type of energy i needed after no sleep, an hour and a half drive, and only the bad coffee shitty bagel combo to fuel me.
viii. thanks to everyone who commented in support of keeping my super secret project super secret. i love you guys.
ix. i have to be up in less that five hours. perhaps it’s time to post this bitch and hit the hay.
February 24, 2011
i’ve been on my man period pretty hard lately.
i don’t know if there is any science backing up the theory that men do in fact have periods. since we don’t bleed out once a month, i’m sure there’s been little interest. however,
at least speaking for myself,
i have one.
i remember my mom had really bad pms when i was a lad,
the “batten down the hatches” kind of pms.
my dad and i would brace ourselves,
make ourselves scarce,
and clean something.
this is apparently yet another trait i seem to have inherited from mom. (i’ll forgive her since she also gave me my killer good looks)
my man period usually involves the following:
insane emotions and mood swings
fear the world sees these crazy emotions
analysis of my complicated love life (such as it is)
insomnia and seclusion in my room
a desire to cast on many new projects
consuming unhealthy amounts of red meat
an increase in booty calls/sexting (sorry mom)*
a mad desire to start smoking again (sorry mom)
and the inevitable hunt for the ever illusive xanax bottle.
for christ’s sake i ate peanut butter and loved it!
(ok so only my parents can understand just how not “me” that is,
but trust me, that is some twilight zone shit!)
today was the first day in about ten
when i woke up pretty much even-keeled.
but instead of my brain being back in balance,
i think it’s world that has just changed to fit my mood.
you see, tonight, a few friends are coming over to celebrate my birth.
i was born in december.
veronica feels that,
even though i had a whirlwind trip to nyc to commemorate my birth,
it was necessary to have a celebration in pittsburgh.
so a few peeps who missed out are coming over,
and veronica is making me a butter pecan cake.
i wonder if there will be presents?
i’ve gotten some good ones this year.
a skein of handspun from tina
a skein of handspun from tammy
a lovely skein and pattern from kim
some lovely body butter for my ashy skin from cheryl
socks from lisa b
socks from weirdypants jenn
a hat/needle organizer from the lovely yvonne
a lovely batt from my boss
(i really think she’s just trying to tempt me into buying a wheel)
two, count ‘em two stephen west stripy neck accessories from anna
and the emotional support i need, whenever i need it,
from my sister/aunt kelli.
i got groped on my birthday by a hot stranger in new york,
and smooches from a guy i like before we even got there.
the closest thing i have to a sister,
is having a party in honor of my birthday
in the middle of february.
not too shabby
i’d say a(n extreme) chemical imbalance in my system once a month
is totally worth it for this life i’m living.
* just to clarify, i don’t do the booty calling. it happens to me. i’m a lady. (sorry mom)
February 10, 2011
that’s what i was last thursday; the mothah fucking bomb.
ok maybe i’m being a little dramatic.
i did do an excellent job, though.
and i’m very proud of myself.
this is how things went down:
i drove through the mountains of pennsylvania,
passing through state college, and ending up in historic boalsburg, pa.
(don’t ask me where that is or anything about it. i have no. idea.)
i sat down to lunch with the lovely krystn madrine,
the knitter responsible for booking this gig,
and went over the evening’s progression.
i took some notes,
wrote down some names,
headed over to the venue,
and continued to silently shit my pants.
this left me with one hour to prep;
writing out how i wanted to open,
giving my first impression.
i took a turn about the room, and was pretty surprised;
even though this was an event about knitting,
the organizers had invited a bunch of other guilds.
i was thoroughly impressed.
i found a seat and knitted a few rows before i had to get things going,
find my center,
open my chakras,
ohm shanti and all that.
and a girl from state college asked if she could interview me.
(she was writing a paper for her event planning class)
when she asked where i came from, it was her turn to shit her pants.
she couldn’t believe someone would drive all the was from pittsburgh
for a knitting event.
after blowing the mind of america’s youth,
it was time to get to work.
based on the sign in sheet,
i was standing in front of just over a hundred people.
and now that i had their attention, i had to do something with it.
i’m looking at a couple hundred eyes, but i don’t care,
because i know exactly what i’m gonna do with the scene.
and of course everything happens, my god, the emotion comes up, i chase it away, i bring it back,
people laughed when i wanted them to,
paid attention when i wanted them to.
that room was mine!
for about five minutes.
then other people took over with the talking and such.
my job for the rest of the night was to be pleasant to the people who came up to talk to me, make the raffle interesting, and make sure people got the fuck out by nine.
i happily posed for the obligatory photos.
that’s kate, the guild president.
and krystn, the knotty girl who roped me into this.
but my favorite part of the night was meeting a reader.
this is tammy. she was a little disappointed that i didn’t wear my hotpants, especially since she spent a good chunk of her time at maryland standing in line at the fold staring at my ass.
sorry tammy. krystn wouldn’t let me wear them.
notice i’m clutching a skein of yarn in my hand in that photo?
tammy is spinning 52 skeins in 52 weeks.
i’m holding skein #4.
i told her so.
and she gave it to me.
just fucking gave it to me!
can you believe that?!
i had an emotion.
(you can see it here)
overall, i had a blast.
everyone was really friendly, and cheerful.
totally worth driving across the commonwealth and back.
i didn’t even need a xanax.
*mad points for who ever knows where i stole this little bit of text from.
January 20, 2011
if you’re a knitter, a real knitter,
you might be a little snooty about crochet.
you totally are.
crochet is like the older, uglier sister of knitting.
that unmarried spinster who is more like a mother to her.
sure she probably knows better, and has a nice fulfilling career,
but knitting is the family rebel. knitting’s the girl who got caught smoking in the bathroom. knitting fucked the better part of her high school football team (and a few cheerleaders too).
like a lover,
like a brother,
like a soulmate!
its speakers to be precise
who have been silent for a couple weeks now.
now, again, david bowie can be heard here at bitches get stitches,
and i can shake a tail feather whenever the urge arises.
so praise be to my crochet hook,
and the sister who’s always there for us.
i totally know a cute geek at google i can hook you up with.