Whoopee. We’re all gonna die.

So, I’m working on The Aeolian Shawl. I have set a deadline for completion by October 2nd, so I can block it and wear it over the weekend up to Apple Fest, so 11 days. I’m on the road for two days of that, and work two days, also, which leaves me with 7 days, and 13 to 15 rows left to go. I don’t like leaving it the middle of a lace row, and now it’s getting so goofy that I like to finish the purl row that comes after, so I can check for mistakes while the pattern is fresh in my mind (and oh by the way THANK YOU UNIVERSE that it is a symmetrical pattern).

And I want to insert here a note of admiration and respect for anyone who can write lace patterns, and an especial thank you to the person who designed this shawl, because I am sure it will be absolutely stunningly beautiful when it is done. Saying this is important because –

WHOEVER WROTE THIS PATTERN IS A PSYCHO FREAK!!!!

The last row I knitted went like this;

(a certain amount of preamble, then) *K2T, YO, k1, NUPP (k1,yo,k1,yo,k1,yo,k1) k1, yo, K3T (slip one, knit one, pass knitted one back to left needle, pass next stitch over, pass knitted stitch back to right needle, pass slipped stitch over) yo, k1, NUPP (k1,yo,k1,yo,k1,yo,k1), k1, yo, K3T (slip one, knit one, pass knitted one back to left needle, pass next stitch over, pass knitted stitch back to right needle, pass slipped stitch over) yo, SSK, k4, yo, K3T (slip one, knit one, pass knitted one back to left needle, pass next stitch over, pass knitted stitch back to right needle, pass slipped stitch over) yo, k4.*

And then repeat. (Am I on the first nupp or the second? Is that K3T over a nupp or over that decrease? DID I REMEMBER TO YARN OVER? WHICH YARN OVER AM I ON????)

One of the things I admire about lace knit pattern writers is their ability to graph things. Which in this case involves many many open spaces, because the writer has realized that there is a certain amount of WHAT THE HELL?!?? going on in this pattern, and tries to give you visual cues as to what you might be trying to accomplish. This particular row has three separate clumps of three, followed by a fairly long clump. Plus the beginning and end of the main pattern. Plus the two separate edge charts and the separate center chart.

I am getting afraid of what the next row might bring. Also, I’ve only used about half the beads I ordered for the project. And the rows are taking close to 45 minutes each.

October 2nd, here I come.

Daughter spends a lot of time on video games (n.b. is that even what they’re called now?), which irritates me. But it also means she’s spending time listening to and learning from critical analysis, which Is. So. Cool. to an art historian. It also means we have discussions revolving around which character in the Elder Scrolls represents which god in classical mythology, which led to a brief discussion about Nature and the Wilderness as a representation of supreme beings of different types. Which is good, because – oh, there’s a list of reasons. Neither of us is letting our brains rot. We are equal in our geek fandomness of Big Things and Ideas. And we can spend quality time together in so many different ways.

The summer was cool, which is good because I hate being hot. It was bad because the few hot days we had (I think it was three) were too hot to get in the car and go where we could go swimming. We’ve had what seems like an early cold snap, which means that it’s time the garden closes down, which is sad, but it also means a return to hot bath season, which is Thank You Universe. Hot Bath Season is good, in that it means hot – HOT! – baths, which is also bad, because it means that that hot bath should have been lotion instead of water.

The return to Hot Bath Season means a return to many many blankets on the bed, which is good, because snuggle in and sleep like a log. And also because –

yellowblanket

I get to play.

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It was hot that day, okay?

We’ve had Katniss for just under two years, now. I think she’s starting to think we’re okay.

I worked till eight yesterday, came home and settled into my settle-down routine. Katniss ignored me for a while, then came out into the living room and started running around. So, I dragged the Scariest Toy Ever around for about 30 seconds, and sat back down. Not good enough.

Katniss has a thing where she acts like she wants to sit on my lap, but is really just using me as a shortcut – to the window, or to the keyboard of my laptop. So, yes, sit on my keyboard. Open all those functions that I don’t know how to get to. Let me scritch you. Lie down and let me scritch you. Fall asleep with me scritching you. Let me carefully gently pick you up and slip you onto my lap and scritch you.

First time ever, that she let me hold her on my lap. Not for long, but a few minutes.

So, I have to be back to work in less than 12 hours, so I go to bed early. She’s sitting in the window when I come in to the bedroom. I say hi, tell her I’m going to bed, start putting on jammies – and she comes down from the window and curls up on my bed. And stayed there while I got under the covers and curled up.

First time.

She didn’t there stay very long either, but beds are pretty scary to her. Like feet used to be, like some laps are, like sudden noises and things lying on top of her. Like people walking by 50 feet away when she’s outside. But bringing home a kitteh and letting her see that people aren’t whatever it was she went through that tiny bit she wasn’t living in the shelter, makes me feel so good. Teaching her that words have meanings, that Kitteh means her, that we’ll come to her aid, that we’ll feed her when she’s hungry. I’m pretty happy.

The storm threw all kinds of stuff my way. Also, playing with a macro extender.

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Storm didn’t throw this. I did this. The veining is beautiful up close.

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A nomad festive in Iram –

iran cowgirl

I found this and more at:

http://qahtan-art.tumblr.com/post/97161711877/farsizaban-nomad-festival-in-iran

Tumblr is my new excuse for not getting anything done.

Daughter and I went to Coco’s for breakfast. It was crazy busy, so we put our stuff on a table to hold it while we went up and ordered, and then sat down to wait.

So I got looking around (because ADD? whatever) and noticed the people at the table we were going to grab, but they got there first. All three were sitting, checking their phones. And then I looked back at Daughter and me, who were both busy reading – me a book, Daughter a Kindle.

Anyway, it’s crazy windy here (like Holy cats! It’s windy), with the wind blowing hard from the ENE, barreling down Chequamegon Bay and across the highway. I went out after breakfast to get pictures, but my battery died, so I didn’t get photos OF THE WAVES CRASHING INCHES FROM THE ROADBED AND SPLASHING CARS AS THEY DROVE BY! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this bad, but you have to remember I was out of town for three years at school, and I frequently don’t make it to the western edge of town.

I did get these (please click on them);

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The pictures suck, and the wind was blowing hard enough that I could barely stand, and my battery died before I could do anything really stupid (like kneeling down to catch those four-foot waves up close and personal). But yeah, there used to be a beach there, especially in that bottom photo. Not a deep beach, but there was sand, at least. I think it might still be there. The poor gulls looked miserable. I was stunned to see so much debris thrown up the banks. It might be fun to go beach-combing tomorrow.

And I’m always surprised at how many people come out to watch storms. I am among my people!

I thought I’d add this quick;
Screen shot 2014-09-10 at 2.43.24 PM

12 foot waves. Gale force wind. Yee haw! Glad it’s not snow.

I’m stealing this from Kmkat. We’ll see how it goes.

Busman’s Honeymoon, by Dorothy Sayers. The balance of giddy bliss and murder most foul was pretty excellent, and the details of the hanging plant were so realistic I can almost feel it in my hands. My brother and I shared an enthusiasm for Sayers. And Gaudy Night. (paraphrasing here) “She looked in the mirror and decided her dress was sufficiently sub-fusc.” (I hope I spelled that right.)

Kim Stanley Robinson’s Red Mars trilogy. I was convinced the author must be a woman, the books were written so well.

And then Years of Rice and Salt, by above. And Antarctica. Because they are also well-written, tight stories.

I read a bunch of Ray Bradbury when I was young and susceptible. The phrase ‘Rocket Summer’ still reverberates. And OMG looking into the canal and seeing the Martians staring back at them! And the Martians themselves. And There Will Come Soft Rains. Sob.

His Dark Materials. Hester. Sob.

LOTR. Duh.

Gilgamesh, by Herbert Mason. Saved my life.

Kristen Lavransdatter, by Sigrid Unsett.

Growth of the Soil, Knutt Hamsun. I lent it to a friend, and told her if it didn’t capture her by the end of the second paragraph, it probably wouldn’t work for her. It didn’t, sadly enough.

And oh yeah, let us not forget Moby Dick.

100 Years of Solitude. “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.” Yes, I had to go look it up to get the words right, but I always remember “his father took him to discover ice.”

Well, that’s ten – nope, eleven chunks. Three of the chunks are trilogies, so I win! I get extra points!

Wasn’t there one of those books, like Misty of Chincoteague Island? That ends with the horse swimming out to sea? There were a bunch of horse books. And oh, geez, The Haunting of Hill House, the Reader’s Digest Condensed version. My brother read it too, and told me he got the chills when she cried out, “Whose hand was I holding?” The little white house with red shutters. Permanently altering my personal color choices.

I think I should stop thinking right now, because this probably could go on for quite a while.

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Somebody slept in my chair all afternoon. I was forced to do housework. And then when I got fed up and gently displaced her onto her own chair, she tricked me by acting like she wanted to sit in my lap, and then climbed onto the table and my laptop and lay down and went to sleep.

She’s just messing with my head. But she’s so pretty!

obviously I'm crazy

http://madamedefargeknits.tumblr.com/post/96838335512/knits-withallthecolorsofthewind-this-is-my-next

It’s available on Ravelry. Go see it, and the 20 other drop-dead gorgeous versions of it. Like this one;

yes obviously.

I hope this explains why I have been putting off joining Ravelry.

1.) I have no idea how much money this is – “kr.40.00 SEK”. 2.) I am stuck on Row 21 of the 45-row edging on the Aeolian Shawl. 3.) Exactly how many beaded shawls do I actually need in my life? 4.) I need socks way more than I need to spend another 6 months on a shawl. 5.) What about that Fair Isle Sweater I have been craving? 6.) Do I really think this is a good idea?

There. I’ve almost talked myself out of it.

Or at least into finishing the Aeolian.

eta: It’s less than $6. I am doomed.

Tumblr is just another way for somebody to make money, of course. And I seriously underutilize it, not to make money, but to see the world I can’t see from here.

But there are so many beautiful things in the world, that I feel unworthy. “What I feel for you – it beats words. It beats worlds. I promise. – Katherine Mansfield

And this series of photos.

The world stuns me with beauty.

EB4

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