The strange irony of employment

I, my dear and lovely reader, have a job.

It would seem that, just as the wonderful knittyheads predicted, there was a delay in contacting me following my interview a week and a half ago, and the people at Citizens for Public Justice think I'm the best candidate for the position! Yay!! I'll be working in the fundraising department, doing some data entry and some correspondence drafting. Might be a little boring at times, but I will always be doing something that will be helping other people, worthy people, refugee people! So I will be able to forebear. I am very excited! I baked some celebratory cookies, thus successfully gaining back, in one day, four of the six pounds I had lost. Well done. Oh, and if the dough looks weird, it's because it was weird. That reduced-fat, non-hydrogenated margarine may be good for reducing guilt when making good, stove-top popcorn (with an old-timey crank!) but it is not good for making cookies. Use butter. Or heart-stopping, artery-destroying hydrogenated Crisco. They're cookies, for goodness sake; they aren't supposed to be healthy!



Do you know what this whole job thing means? Ok, it means a lot of things, but do you know what small list of incredibly fabulous things it means?! Let me tell you (in no particular order; I'm honestly not sure which excites me most):

1. We can pay off our debts, including my moderately-giant student loans! No more collection agents' letters or calls!

2. I can look forward to seeing friends from university without having to anticipate how best to phrase "teaching dance classes and seamstressing" so it sounds impressive and not entirely sad.

3. I can buy YARN. And actually pay for patterns, rather than only relying on what I can find on the inter-web and what I try to cook up in my wacky brain.

4. We can pay off our maxed-out credit card (calm down, our limit is a grand, but we maxed it out in wedding business two and a half years ago, and have barely touched the principle since. Boo) and then, with my new employment, can use it for moderate purchases online (read: fancy schmancy yarn from far away! And cheap online deals! Elann, here I come!) which we can then immediately pay off. I'm not sure which excites me more: the prospect of a growing stash (well, actually having a stash) or being able to pay for things outright, rather than constantly juggling payments. Both are so attractive!

All that said, I'm mostly looking forward to getting the monkey named Ontario Government Student Loan off my back, and putting some money away. Maybe an RRSP, which we can then put toward the down-payment on a house. Or just rent someplace downtown. Because let me tell you, I have had enough with the suburbs. Am I old? Am I boring? Have I given up on life? No, to all of the above. So what am I doing surrounded by people who are all of those things, I ask you?

For this summer, at least, we are staying here. I've finished most of the work on the backyard; let's see if it actually sprouts! We pulled that damned dogwood stump out of the top left corner on Saturday (huzzah!) and regraded the whole yard, then seeded. Hopefully the grass will grow soon. I'd like to use my little yard! I have designs on getting two cedar lounge chairs, and a little bistro table for the corner. Maybe I'll hang some flower boxes from the fence, and maybe some sort of outdoor art on the side "walls". Ooh, maybe some pretty outdoor lights! I love Christmas lights; I'd leave them up in the house all year if I could. Hey, why not? I'm artsy; shouldn't I be eclectic and strange sometimes?

Since the last few/bunch of posts have been image-less, I am remedying that error today. Here we have the backyard, pre-stump-removal, and post-stump-removal. Wembley has inserted herself into both pictures, attempting to make herself as filthy as possible. This dog loves to hang around in dirt more than I can tell you. She is a white dog. She gets very, very grimy.


On to the subject of knitting, and the strange irony of employment. Now that I will (soon) be able to afford to buy yarn, I will have a greatly reduced quantity of time in which to play with my yarn. Boo to that, but yay to the yarn - hence the irony. My LYS - which I adore - always has yarn at a much-reduced price in baskets on the floor. And lookey what I found yesterday!



Yup, Rowan! For $5 a skein! I bought two skeins (Mum helped me ball one yesterday afternoon, the other is waiting patiently) with which to knit a teeny shoulder shrug. My thought is this: I live waaaay out in Orleans (suck!) but my office will be downtown in the core (right near Elgin! And my friend Katie! And her daughter Isla! And their church with the fabulous acoustic! And the possibility of noon-hour rehearsals if the church will let me!). Long bus-rides are in the offing, in the heat of the summer. So light summer tops and dresses are in my future, but I feel very strongly about greatly exposed shoulders in the office (id est, they are generally rather inappropriate), hence the shrugs. I'll knit various little shrugs to wear in the morning when it's brisk-er and in the office, and then at noon and in the afternoon on my way home from work, I can take the shrug off to bear (bare!) the heat. Lovely, cheap Rowan yarn, small, transportable, practical project for the bus...it's heaven.



I picked up some - four balls! - of el-cheapo sock yarn for the FBIL's wedding kilt hose. I really need to get started on those, pronto. I have another ball or two in the same colour, but possibly a different dye-lot. No problem: I can use them for the turn-down cuff, so any slight difference won't be an issue. I'll keep you posted on how they go. I'm a little terrified...but reassured. They are just socks, just cabled socks. Besides, he has these skinny little legs; I won't need to do much shaping on the calf at all to have them fit.

Oh, yeah, the concert. It went well! I finished the blue satin in time (phew!) and sounded pretty good. I was sick, and I definitely noticed the difference between singing healthy and singing feeling the way I did, but it was still pretty good. Nah, it was awesome! Papagena was so much fun! Getting to really play a part, not just sing it, was super, and my baritone, Thomas, who sang Papageno was superb. We got an ovation as we went scampering out of the hall at the end of our duet: very cool. Carmen was a blast. I did my best to really 'sell' it, and my acting friend with the college diploma in theatre said I did well, which I take as a very high compliment. She's fabulously honest. The other duet and trio I did were...alright. Not perfect, but not bad. All in all, I'm proud of myself, and really looking forward to singing again, soon. Maybe this summer. Ooh, now I can actually bankroll my own project! Exciting!

We close with a Wembley-pic. It was her birthday on Thursday. She's a big girl of two. I am going to miss my long days at home with her when I start my job. Maybe, when we move downtown and I can walk to work, she can be the office dog and come with me! Here, she is in one of her favourite hangouts: 'daddy's' knee. Such a snuggler...

In which the author wishes she had WiFi so she could post from the outdoors

Remember yesterday? Well, I decided that it was time to get off my tuckus and do something about that yard. Since the dogwood was taken down, it's looking a much more usable size (it was a really big dogwood!) so I'm feeling rather motivated. I'm currently on my little mid-morning coffee-and-biscotti-and-internet break. I'll tell you my plan, then get back'on out there!

*****

Alright, I just wasted like 15 minutes trying to draw you a picture using Paint of my backyard. Didn't work. Anyway, it's small, with a garden bed on each side of the yard that curves, so the corners are freaking deep (too deep. I don't want to wade around in the plants to weed them). The dogwood was in one of the corners. So I'm making that bed about 1/5th the size it was, regrading and reseeding. The result should be grass, lots more of it, and lower maintenance. I also picked up some seeds for climbing plants - Nasturtiums, Morning Glories and Scarlet Runner pole beans - to cover the unattractive wooden "fences" that wall in the yard. Hopefully I have enough sun. I probably don't, but what's a few seeds in the hopes of pretty?

I got a call from the place I interviewed last week. We shall see. I'm starting to wonder if it really is the perfect job for me. The busy season for the position is November - March, during which I really can't take any days off. It's also a busy rehearsal/performing period, and if I am lucky enough to get a principal role doing Gilbert and Sullivan next season, I may need a week or two of reduced hours, not mandatory overtime. Meh. We'll see.

I haven't had a pic for a post in a while. Keep forgetting to download them from the phone/camera. Maybe later today. And I know, I know, I still haven't really posted on Saturday's concert. Honestly, I'm still trying to find a picture of myself in which I don't look positively, well, fat. I'm not, I know I'm not, but everyone who took pics managed to get me looking chubby. Not good for the self-esteem, let me tell you. At least my new trend to eating lots of raw veggies and working outside seems to be working: 5lbs down! Doesn't help with how I looked last weekend though. Maybe I'll find a screen shot that will work....

Must go play in the dirt now!

Well this sucks.

*Direct quote from the opera concert on Saturday, after I (Papagena) am told I cannot make-out with the new-found love-of-my-life, Papageno (Thomas Franzky, a truly dear baritone). I cheated it out to the audience and huffed off-stage like a melodramatic adolescent. It drew laughs, as intended, and was fun. Soon as I get the DVD, I'll do a little Youtubin' and post it here.*

The weather is beautiful today. As it was yesterday. Seriously, it's 25C, with light clouds: perfect weather. I want to be outside. But sit in my back yard which is full of yard waste (we destroyed the dogwood!! Ha haa!!! It is GONE!!!!) and sadly lacking in grass (too much freaking shade from that freaking dogwood. But it's gone now! Boo-yah!) and the size of a postage stamp. And I can't listen to Lucia Popp singing Strauss and Orff and Dvorak when I'm outside, so here I am, in my dark house, wishing I had a decent yard, or a nearby cafe with a patio to sit and read and have a drink and hang out with the puppy. But no, I live in the burbs, where there is no life, no energy, no vibrancy. Boo.

I haven't heard from the people who interviewed me a week ago. They said they'd be in contact by Monday. It's Wednesday. No way I got the job. I'm really starting to think I should just bite the bullet, wait tables, and be done with it. Is it entirely pathetic for a married 26/7 (birthday's next month) from an "elite" undergrad programme and aspirations of operatic stardom to wait tables like a highschool student? Or is it just in-keeping with the performer lifestyle?

Does anyone, ANYONE, have any brilliant ideas as to how I can avoid collection agents coming after me for debts I cannot pay? I hadn't realised that the only thing keeping me from worrying about all this student debt disaster was the stress of the upcoming shows. Now that they are done, I have nothing but time to think about how entirely destroyed everything is. I am filled with so much hope, and so much despair, at the same time. I hope for my performing potential and future, and I despair of ever being able to afford the training and the agency necessary to make it happen. I'm not depressed at all, just very very worried. All the time.

Wow, this post was not supposed to be this heavy. See, this is how my mind works now. Always coming back to the heavy stuff. No fun. But hey! Sunshine and leaves and I spent three hours with my friend Katie and her daughter yesterday, outside, walking around downtown. Isla is seriously, one of the most fun children to be around since...ever! She's very interactive and just a delight. She has crazy curly hair, courtesy of her daddy and lovely blue eyes and an enormous smile. She's a joy.

Let's end there, with sunshine and babies. Ah.

Big weeks

Full of lots of busy-ness. I should write a nice long post, but honestly, I'm beat. Also, I am terribly lacking in photos. I was just too busy to remember to take them. Hopefully, I can find pics of my costume for Papagena from the concert Saturday (it's pretty wicked, if I do say so myself) and get a pic or two from my mum of the second half as well (the lurvely sapphire-blue satin).

I had an outrageous time, lots of applause and compliments, which is the sort of validation everyone needs from time to time. I hadn't really performed since last year, so it was good to knock the dust off again. I had such a wonderful time...I really want to give a concert of my own, sing my own repertoire, find my own accompanists and co-singers...maybe someday soon.

A more substantial post to come!

What's new,

...you may ask. I received a phone call yesterday from a government (I honestly can't remember if it was federal or provincial, because really, they're both after me) agency, informing me that my student loan has now defaulted. They want all their money back, now.

So what does that mean? Frankly, I don't know. I don't have any to give them. The Man and I are both ruminating on what to do about this, and while it was very upsetting yesterday, today I am far more focused on getting the dresses for the dancers finished before tomorrow night, and working on my two costumes for next Saturday night's opera concert.

After much consideration, and a trip to the fabric store with my mum, I know what I'm wearing next weekend. It's this one:

We found this fabulous satin - cheap! - in this vibrant, really saturated jewel-blue, somewhere between royal blue and purple. Not quite purple, just almost purple. It's lovely. I am so looking forward to making and wearing it!

In the wake of the phone call, you may ask yourself: "Is it wise to buy fabric for insensible dresses?" Well, yes and no. The fact is, at this point, less than $100 one way or the other isn't making any difference to the people who want to be repaid. That sort of reasoning would certainly cause a great deal of fiscal irresponsibility, but for the purposes of the concert? Not so much. Also, my mommy felt badly for me, and treated me. Thanks MOM!!

Now, I have many hours of sewing to finish. I'd love - love! - to get two dresses finished today. I'm really looking forward to making my Papagena costume. It's just going to be playing with tulle and feathers, and really, who doesn't like that?!

It's fun to stay up late and write posts!

I know, I've been rather silent lately. But I have been so. busy. Sewing for about 6-plus hours a day, with some sort of rehearsal almost every day. I've been finding time to check out other blogs, read disturbing and abhorrent news stories, and check my email, but not to compose posts. Forgive me. Since my last post was all heavy and serious, this one will not be.

Tuesday was my nephew's birthday! He's a big boy of 1. His birthday party was Saturday.


He's such a cutie.

Weather here has been we-ird! This time last week, we were surrounded by snow, following a heavy snowstorm of wet, enormous flakes. It was insane. It was gross. It was late April! By Friday, the weather was so lovely, people were in shorts and sandals, driving around with the windows down, screen doors on houses were open, patios were crammed. Of course, with all my rehearsing and sewing, I enjoyed most of it in a purely theoretical sense: I was glad that it was so nice out, even if I couldn't be out myself. I managed to snag a half-hour outside in the sun on Sunday afternoon, studying my Habanera. So lovely.

Just over a week until the opera. Ack! I'm still not sure what I'm wearing for it. Maybe the red one? Or make something new? Maybe this one (6401, bottom left)? Or this one? Hrm. Either way, cheap is the name of the game. Thank goodness for Fiscal Year End pre-Inventory sales on fabric!

Oh! There has been a change to one of my progress bars (knitting has not been happening lately. When I have spare time, I'm don't want to partake of more fiber arts). The Birthday Scarf for The Man was at about 75% complete, right? And now it's at 0.2% complete. I bit the bullet (where did that phrase come from, anyway?) and frogged it. It was just too short, and there was no way around it. So the 0.2%? I've cast on a bunch of stitches, hopefully about 800. I don't know. I haven't counted yet. I've cast them on, and someday, I will be awake enough at the end of the day, or have some free time in the middle of the day, to count them.

I have an interview next Thursday. Any and all job-getting vibes would be very welcome! It's for a position in the fundraising department of Citizens for Public Justice. Advocacy, NGO, socially conscious work; I so terribly want this job!

And look what I helped make!!

I often wonder, "What compels people to say and do and write the things they do?" In the wake of the violence of April 16 at Virginia Tech, I find myself not only wondering, but angry. Very angry.

The student who did the killing (everyone seems to feel it necessary to point out that he was South Korean, but he and his parent immigrated to the United States when he was 9 years old, so really, what difference does it make?) was erroneously linked to his first victim, Emily Hilscher, with suggestions made by various news media that they had some form of relationship, and that it was a falling out between them which led to his homicidal rampage. Despite the fact that there was no evidence to support this theory, it was widely reported.

One Canadian journalist has issued an apology for his part in the misrepresenting of the facts behind Emily Hilscher's violent murder. Admirable enough, to be sure, that he would so freely and vehemently admit his error and offence to the memory of Hilscher and all the victims at Virginia Tech. But his apology for his inaccuracy doesn't excuse the larger offence in all this aftermath.

Headlines have read: "Was it an obsession with Emily that drove gunman to kill?" "Was gunman crazed over Emily?" and have featured pictures of her bright, young face followed by the statement: "This is the face of the teenage student who may have sparked the biggest gun massacre in US history." The rhetoric in these headlines, in these statements, is that somehow, someway, the female victim is implicit in this violence. Something she did, something she said, something she wore, or some glance or gesture must have caused this highly disturbed, and historically psychiatrically treated individual to snap, and led to the 32 deaths, 20 injuries, and terror and sorrow of April 16.

How is this acceptable? How, how can anyone still, in this age of "equality" and "women's liberation" and "political correctness" think that it is in any way a valid argument that in some small way, the initial victim of Cho's madness was to blame. Such rhetoric is of the same variety as the argument that a rape victim is implicit in her attack by wearing a short skirt, or stilettos, or that the victim of spousal abuse shouldn't have "talked back" at her drunken, violent partner, thus "forcing" him to beat her unconscious; the "Why do you make me do this to you?" argument in it's finest. How, I ask you, can any person with any shred of decency believe that any person, male or female, could actually "drive" someone to the acts of April 16?

That Thane Burnett apologised for his error, I appreciate. But the greater, more fundamental, and far more distressing issue is not the erroneous subject matter, but the readiness of media to accept and perpetuate the belief that women have some strange, illusory, and powerful methods of beguilment by which we drive men insane and lead them to mass murder. The overwhelming and enduring reign of the patriarchal bias of the media is enough to make a person weep in disbelief.

Emily Hilscher is a victim of one man's violent and homicidal inclinations: nothing more. Whether she knew him in life, or not, whether or not she ever had cause to speak with him, share a classroom with him, or sit at the same cafeteria table with him, she had no part in her own murder, nor the murder of her fellow students.

This woman was a victim. Look it up. If you want to blame her, try looking up "misogynistic pig". Don't be surprised to find your portrait.

God in heaven, I am so upset by this.

Suit yourself

How do you lose pants? Specifically, half a suit? Because I can't find my suit pants, and if I do, by some miracle, get that job interview, I will need to wear my suit.

If you see a pair of navy chalk-stripe pants kickin' around, would you let me know?
I really liked those pants.

I knit faster in my sleep

I had a dream about knitting last night. I think I frogged my lace stocking, and reknit it. And at an impressive speed.

I must miss knitting more than I thought. I haven't done any knitting in a while. Too much sewing, job-hunting, opera rehearsing, stressing, and not enough available yarn (read: no income with which to buy more yarn).

I have applied for a job off that job-listing board I found. Still haven't heard anything, and I'm trying to be optimistic, but it's hard to find optimism without also bringing blind and disappointing hope along for the ride. We shall see.

I've got to go do some laundry. The Man is playing a gig at a coffeehouse and he has me singing a piece with him, so I need something - anything! - to wear.

After another day on the floor

As anticipated, the kidlets started to tire of us last night. They did very, very well, but an hour of artsong and opera, all in original text, and thus, not in English, was a little much for them, though they did seem to enjoy it. To give them a break from all the sitting still, Misty and I sang our Delibes duet while walking laps around the gym. The song is about a walk in a garden, so we "walked in the garden" with the kids. A few slight collisions (when you tell five year-olds to "walk" they often interpret that to mean "run like a mad-man") and some guessing at tempo when we were 20 metres away from - and so, couldn't hear - the piano, but it was fun. I tend to wander in circles when I'm rehearsing at home, anyway, so it worked out fine for me.

Picked up fabric for two more dresses (I'm pretty sick of plaid at this point) as well as some black brocade for my gown for the concert. It was half-off, which is always nice. I'm still not entirely sure it's what I want for the show - I'd really prefer to get some lace yardage, but it's usually horrendously expensive, and I just can't justify it.

Wembley is barking. I have done such a bad job raising my dog to be well-behaved. Meh. I love her; other people don't have to!

Aww, bye-bye Belinda!

Looks like we'll have one less over-privileged, floor-crossing, hockey-goon-dating, single-motherhood-issue-obfuscating politician to enjoy next time around.

That's a shame. There were so many shots at her expense in Savoy's Iolanthe. Some other riding will have to elect someone for whom the jokes are so plentiful.

When, precisely, did this become a *bad* thing?

When a person is concerned about a friend, and expresses that concern carefully, thoughtfully, artfully, and with precision, should it be expected that the friend in question get pissy about it?

I don't think she reads this blog (hey, most of the time I think I might be talking to myself, but that certainly hasn't stopped me yet, has it? Ha!) but frankly, I don't care if she does. I have been nothing but supportive and helpful and a good friend for at least five years. But this defensive act has to stop. Getting picky at people when they tell you how much they care about you is just silly.

There. I feel better.

This has to be a short post. I must sew up at least two dresses today, and finish another two. And I just remembered this morning that I neglected to measure my FBIL's foot on Saturday for his wedding kilt hose. Grr...

Wish me broken legs: I'm singing for tiny children this evening! (Nothing like an evening at the opera for a bunch of Sparks and Brownies. Personally, I'm worried the presentation will be too long, and that they'll start to get antsy. Let's hope I'm wrong!)

Titles are for suckers, man!

I hate looking for work. I hate. looking. for work. Almost all the mainstream jobs out there just seem so banal and pedestrian. Or I'm not quite qualified. And not bilingual. I am a huge fan of having a bilingual nation, and I'm moderately ashamed of myself for not having retained all my French-language training, but come on, cosmos! Cut me a break!

This is just no fun at all. I know I'm going to end up working retail again at the local fabric store, I just know it.

What the hell have I done with my life?

Risen Indeed!

Easter Sunday is one of those days in the Christian liturgical year when we sing joyful, glorious music, and celebrate whole-heartedly. So it strikes me strange that I'm sitting here listening to Mozart's Requiem. I just got a hankering for it. I've never sung it, so I can listen to it without trying to work. Much as I love Bach's Magnificat, when I listen to it I end up singing along. To the entire thing. It's a long piece, so it isn't particularly relaxing to listen to it, now. But I can still revel in Mozart's mass, even knowing that he didn't pen most of it himself (he completed the first two movements - the Requiem aeternum and the Kyrie - and began the next 8 movements before succumbing to a fever).


In the service this morning, the lesson was from the Gospel of John, chapter 20, in which Mary Magdelene goes to the tomb and discovers it empty. She rushes back to the house where the rest of the disciples are staying, and the apostles Peter and John (the author of the gospel) run to the tomb, with Mary following. It is then that the angels and Jesus appear to her. In the other three canonical gospels, Mary Magdelene visits the tomb with "the other Mary" whose identity is somewhat debated (likely the mother of one of the apostles), although in Mark's account, Salome is also with them. They find the tomb empty and are greeted by two angels and by Christ. In the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, the women are frightened by the angels, but realise immediately that they are heavenly creatures, and remain at the tomb until the appearance of Jesus, who instructs them to return to the other disciples. Upon hearing the news from the women, the men do not believe what they have heard, and it is only with various other signs that they believe for themselves.

So, here's the point of my ramble. I prefer the first three versions to John's. And while John is the only author to have actually been present for the events, I'm not entirely inclined to just believe what he writes. I think it rather likely that he may have wished to include men more directly in the discovery of the resurrection, rather than reporting that he merely heard about it after the fact, and from women. And I think that it is important, in a feminist age, to remember that the writers of the other gospels had heard that it was women who discovered and believed; that it was women who first delivered "the good news". Maybe we need to go all the way back to the very birth of the religion to find "patriarchy-free" theology, but it is there, plain as day. Just a seasonal thought, for you.

To conclude this Easter broad-cast (get it? 'cause I'm a girl!) I give you: a picture of
my humble self cooking meat! Yep, that's me, with my skin so white I appear to be formed of some highly reflective substance, grilling ham for the congretational pancake breakfast this morning. Every year I help with the breakfast, my veggie-tarian self ends up handling meat bare-handed. Mmmm...yummy. I'm just glad it wasn't bacon!

Prends garde a toi!

Remember how I used to knit? Yeah, I remember that, too. Back when I could justify spending money on yarn, when it didn't feel like a waste of time. I know that it isn't, and I long for the calm and meditative quality of a good afternoon of knitting, but in a life void of reliable income, busy with rehearsals and dress-making, and frought with a desire for something else, something more, time spent knitting doesn't feel like time well spent. Someday, Oh! someday I will get to enjoy it without guilt. But I am afraid that day is not today.

Church this morning was great. The standard readings, a lovely performance of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater Dolorosa duet for Soprano and Alto (well done Carli and Allison!) and our friend Hugh Cawker was there! The choir sang Herbert Howell's Take Him Earth for Cherishing, a piece composed for a memorial service in honour of JFK in 1964. We sang it two years ago, and it didn't particularly move me. It's a complicated piece, full of time and key signature changes, various tempi, and some truly unexpected harmonies. Harsh, crunching harmonies and tone clusters. It's an intense piece: intense to perform and intense to hear.

When first we performed it, my involvement in its performance essentially shielded me from how deeply moving a piece of music it is. Not so much today. We finished the piece (perfectly!) and I just dissolved. I'm not sure I was sitting before I felt my chin wobble. A short prayer, then we're off to the races with O, Sacred Head. Oh, Bernard de Clairvaux: you get me every single time. I always feel such a fool, tears streaming down my face. But at least I can rest easy in the knowledge that my faith is deeply personal, even if smudgy mascara is a slight risk.

Oh, and then my afternoon! I saw my friend Caron, and finished up repairing her favourite jeans for her birthday pub-night tonight. And since I was already all warmed up from a morning of singing, I ran repertoire. For over two hours. It was fabulous. I sang the Lakme duet about 5 times, the Carmen about 6 times, the Wind trio twice, ran parts of Brinidisi (my stars that is a lot of Italian to fit into a short space!), worked on some Handel, an original piece by our former organist, Mr. Carmen Milligan which he composed for my mother-in-law to sing at our church, and I spent a good length of time on the Alleluia from Mozart's Exultate Jubilate. It was such a fantastic way to spend my day. And I do actually feel fairly well prepared for my performance this coming Wednesday. A Spark and Brownie troupe are getting a visit from the opera. Should be...cute!

And a quick final note: if you notice that the car ahead of you has a wobbly-looking hubcap and you're travelling at 110kph on a highway, get out of the way! Because it will probably come flying off, bounce down the road, you'll run into/over it, it'll crack your grill and cause funny scraping sounds to come out of your wheel well. Not that I know, or anything. Not that this happened to us this morning.

Something is stirring 'neath that snow...

Did I tell you about the job for which I applied? Riiight...ok. Our church secretary has decided to retire effective May 1, so a replacement must be found. I applied and interviewed for the position. And I have waited for almost three weeks to hear back one way or the other. Today I got word that I wasn't chosen. But honestly, I'm not broken up about it. Because I have applied for another job, a better job, one with room for advancement and one which is also faith-based! Citizens for Public Justice is a Canadian advocacy group, and they need someone to do fundraising administrative work. There would be researching proposals, correspondence drafting, all sorts of things that are right up my alley. And the organization, while ecumenical, is faith-based, the idea being that if our personal faith informs and enstrengthens our desire for social justice, shouldn't we utilize that strength? I'm excited by the prospect of working in advocacy. I think my Humanities studies would even be very applicable! How lovely!

We had some fun last night. Around 8:15, the power went out, and stayed out until after we'd gone to bed. I couldn't surf or watch pointless television, which was refreshing! The Man started reading Anne Frank's Diary of a Young Girl, and I read more of my feminist theology, and went to bed around 10. It was dark. I got sleepy extra-quickly. This morning, I woke up to electricity and...snow on the ground. ??!! It isn't supposed to snow in April!! How ridiculous! Apparently we can expect more of the same for this weekend. The Almighty obviously has a sense of humour and wit: in celebration of New Life and Rebirth, we'll have snow. Thank you, Jesus, but next year, maybe not so much with the snowstorms, ok?

My mood is hopeful. Now if someone could just explain to the government[s] that I will happily give them back their money as soon as I can, that would be super.

I'm also anticipating tears tomorrow morning. I always cry on Good Friday. We'll sing 'O, Sacred Head, Sore Wounded' and I'll weep silently with the sheer humanity of it all. Death, no matter how necessary or profound, is never easy. Not even for Him.

When I yell "Let's get it on!" it means martial law has been declared....

Thank you, Mark Planeta, for the gift of your random mind and great humour.

Ok, I forgot to put this in the last post, but really, it does deserve one of it's own, it's so random!

In 2006, Jon Woodward was in Uganda building water filters and conducting journalistic activities (you can read his four articles about some of his experiences here). Upon meeting Wembley, he told us about "Operation Wembley"(more about it).

So that's right, folks. I inadvertently named by dog after a state of martial law.

Oops.

Remember...

...this post about my dinner? Well, guess what I'm going to have for lunch. There is no other food in this house that I feel like eating, and the last 18 hours have been stressful. So, apple crisp.

I had a lovely visit with the ever-dreamy Jonathan Woodward. We hung out, ate some food, he met The Man and Wembley, slept on my couch "like a baby", I was told, had toast and coffee in the morning, and bused away on the 136 Local. A short visit, but he's a busy man writing articles for the CBC, Globe and Mail, Time, plus he had to get back for a little more girlfriend-visiting in Toronto before heading home to Vancouver. I have been informed that I must go out west soon. It's another goal to keep in the back of my mind.

It's raining monkeys out here. There is a mud-puddle where my backyard should be, and a lake where the common area between the condos once was. Seriously. There's a chanel system developing, and everything. WET.

Stressful 18 hours. Waiting to hear about a job I interviewed for two and a half weeks ago. Good grief, waiting for a church to make a decision is like waiting for the ERA to pass in the US. It takes for-frickin'-ever. Also, I've had some disturbing news about a friend. A word to the wise: letter-writing isn't always a good idea. You have an opinion: your prerogative. You send it in an email to someone who will be needlessly hurt by it: bad call. Worst part is, I think I was told of the plan to write the email before it was sent, and I didn't say anything to discourage it. Bad on me. But who wants to be attacked for being the voice of moderation? Maybe I'm still a bit doormat-y.

On the upside, though, I have stumbled across this site. Listings of jobs I can feel good about having, rather than feeling guilty that I'm a part of a corporate commercial machine of litigiousness and consumerism. So I'm building up hope that the right job will surface any day now.

And I'm wondering about locations. I like Ottawa, I really do, but what if there is someplace I might like more? I don't know; I've never lived anywhere else. The Man was saying just the other day that he likes living in a capital city, and I agree, it's nice to feel that - even if I'm not involved - I live at the heart of our nation's operations. But I've also heard that the West Coast is lovely, intellectual, and artistic, with a flourishing economy, and Montreal is all of those things, as well, in addition to being a very old city with a wealth of history to it. I don't know. I'm just feeling like I haven't really done anything with myself, and I need to do something, desperately, before the better parts of who I am are so terribly out of use that they are lost. Hrm.

There are funny goings-on in my throat. I am just tired of this nonsense. Get well, damnme! No more sick, kind of sick, a little off, not 100%, residual cough bother. Grrrrr...

I'm going to peel an apple and turn it into something far less healthy. Salut!

Green

Make up your minds that grief 'twill bring, if you've two beaux to every string!

Hmm, many unrelated things to write about.....where to start?

Let's start with my masterful list from yesterday morning. It was an interesting idea but, uh, not entirely successfully. I got about 5 1/2 things done. I was up at 8:10, I worked out, I had a super-yummy omelet, with cheddar and basil and loads of onions (I'm a fan of the one egg to one onion ratio....soooooo good). Then, well, then the internet swallowed me whole. I got a message from my friend from undergrad, whose blog I found the other day (I can gradually relieve my guilt, now!) and one from another undergrad friend who will be in Ottawa in two sleeps!! And there were things to read: knitty blogs and feminist articles and other good things. And that whole post to publish. So I didn't end up getting dressed to leave the house until 11.

My hair's coloured, hallelujah! No more roots. And since I was down there, a little shopping/wandering seemed to be in order. I got some underwear, it was on sale. By the time I came home, it was after 5. So that whole "long practice" thing? It didn't really happen. I warmed up earlier, and had time to do about 4 runs of my Magic Flute duet (it's like 2:44 long). Then: Iolanthe! And hoo, I've got things to say about that.

The Savoy Society puts on a fantastic show. They perform out of the Centrepointe Theatre, a smallish theatre in Ottawa's west end. Staging exclusively G&S, their opera's feature fully built sets, fairly elaborate costuming, extras, and a small orchestra of musicians. And their production of Iolanthe last night was brilliant. For an amateur company, they do a truly impressive and entirely enjoyable job. The choreography was delightful, the rewrites (shots at Belinda Stronach) were witty and the entire evening was totally winning. I've worked with some of the cast, and they all did smashingly, though particularly Mac, who sang the part of the Chancellor and was totally and utterly hilarious. A big bravo to him!!!

It got me thinking: why didn't I audition for them this season? As much as I'm enjoying the music I'm singing with Bytown, staging a full opera in a proper theatre would be a greater accomplishment. Ah well, Carmen and Papagena this year, and I'll rethink things for next season.

It's nearly noon, and I haven't eaten (I foresee another omelet in my near future) but I have worked out (muscles are sore; I'm rather proud). Plan for today: everything I didn't get to yesterday, plus some frivolous esthetic things involving hair and nails.

Does anyone else notice a difference in typing with nail polish versus without? Because I do...

Further Facebook Fun and Fiascos

If you break up with a guy, and he's not entirely happy about it, and then you stumble across him on Facebook because you're both in the same group because you went to highschool together, or because his current girlfriend went to highschool with someone you went to university with, who you only discovered to be on Facebook this very day, is it considered acceptable to message him and tell him "hey, how are you? Hope you're good" or is it just bad manners to try to engage him after many years, and it's just weird to try to send him a friendly hello?

That is the most shamefully long, and incoherent sentence, I think, I have ever written.

Going to bed now. I welcome your input. Particularly anything involving juicy personal stories; I love those.

Protestant Work Ethic?

Late last night, I decided that I really wanted to be productive today, and feel, when I went to bed, that it had been a day well spent. So I made a list:

1. Rise early enough to get a good start at the day, ie no later than 8:30. Anything later feels like indulgence.

2. Eat a good breakfast, preferably something involving the free free-range eggs my mother brought me (thank goodness for family friends with farms!)

3. Exercise. I did a short 20 minute pilates work out the other day, and I've been hurting since, which just goes to prove how not in shape I am.

4. Finish cleaning the backyard. The snow has melted (yay!) and the many strata of winter puppy-poop have all settled on the still-frozen grass. Now is the time to get rid of it, before everything melts and gets mushy and gross[er].

5. Proper warm up and long rehearsal. I have opera staging on Sunday, and I cannot show up sounding as unrehearsed as I am. Faking can only get you so far.

6. Laundry. That's about the it. Laundry.

7. Maybe some tidying - bedroom, living room, aw hell, the whole house needs a good going over.

8. Downtown! Going to get my hair coloured! Oh, rootless bliss! I plan, also, to purchase a mildly expensive and luxurious coffee while there. I haven't gotten a new pair of shoes, jeans, socks or underwear in more months than I care to count; I'm getting a damn coffee.

9. Work on sewing projects. These are time-sensitive, plus they earn me money, so they really should get finished sooner rather than later.

10. IOLANTHE! I'm going with Carli from choir. She's a sweetheart, a year younger than me (whichis remarkable considering my relative youth and the traditional age of church choirs). I know a few members of the cast, so it should be cool. Plus, Gilbert & Sullivan, always a good time!

And that was al I could think of to have a fulfilling day. Since it was after 1, I figured I should get to sleep if I was actually get all this done. Besides, I did want to get the first 3 out of the way before 10 so I could watch Cityline (Fashion Fridays! Yippee!). Good chance to do me blogging and me emailing.

On the employment front: I hear from the church next week. Honestly, it seems a little crazy to me that I was hired for my last three jobs - including two lawfirms - in less time than it's taken them to decide on this one position. Oh, the joys of church committees. Wish me luck (Is that heretical? Ok, then, wish me...Providence? That feels good and Calvinist).

This is what they call "guilt"

How do I begin to feel guilty enough for failing a friendship of four and a half years?

In September of 1999, I started undergrad, and I met some truly wonderful people. Some of the first people I met in the first week of classes became fast friends for our entire undergraduate time. We were with each other through the beginnings and endings of our first really adult relationships, through the stress and uncertainty of intensive study, and through the limbo of the transition from undergrad to life beyond.

In the fall after fourth year, I sublet a room in the townhome two undergrad friends were renting. Living with friends can be...odd. The relationship as it previously existed must be replaced with something new, something different. And the concern can be that what once was is lost, and that what now is, is inferior.

When my sublet was up, I moved into another house with different roommates in a different neighbourhood downtown. And I didn't call. I never called my friends with whom I had lived. I honestly didn't think they wanted to hear from me, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I felt that way. No, I do, because I always feel that way when I leave a place, a home, a job. Call it esteem issues, call it baggage I carry with me from highschool: I never called, and I don't know if I ever gave them my new number. I was newly engaged, finishing up last undergrad classes, and I just failed to do what a friend should do.

Ever since I have missed these friends, one with whom I was - I thought - close friends since the second day of classes back in our first year. And I have missed her terribly.


Just today, I found her blog. I have been reading it, from it's first entry penned some three months after I moved out, trying to catch up on my friend's life. And I have felt so badly for having failed her. In one post, she writes that she worries that she is incapable of forming lasting friendships with women. Alyson, if you ever chance to read this, please know that you did, and I valued our time together, all of our times together, and I love you and have missed you since I last saw you. And that I am so terribly sorry for having lost touch with you, I cannot fully express it.

No comfort for Comfort Women

I went to South Korea when I was 17 years old.

In learning about the country's history, I read about the Comfort Women of the Second World War, and I was horrified.

Check it: Comfort women and the apology they are not getting

I hope you'll sign the worldwide petition. Whether or not it effects any change in the Japanese government's position on the matter, it demonstrates our universal support for these women.

Sook Nyul-Choi's youth-appropriate book is well written, and features her personal experiences with the Japanese occupation, and the dividing of Korea by the Russian and American forces following the war.

Taking names, baby!

Not a lot is happening outside my head. Inside: big thoughts.

I am trying to think more thoughts: big thoughts, mostly; thoughts of depth and substance. I feel like my brain is out of the habit of being active and profound and attempting brilliance on a daily basis, so I'm making an effort.

Because I am smart. I am. I did well in high school (would have graduated higher in my class, but for that month of mono and appendicitis), got into a prestigious programme amongst some of the top scholars in the country, and I did well, scoring A's on most papers. Most of my classmates are well and truly possessed of genius, but I am no dumbey. But I feel like one.

For the past year, I have fought Chronic Fatigue - which has, frankly, SUCKED - and I have taught dance classes - fun, rewarding, but not intellectually stimulating - and I have sewn dresses - ibid. And now, now that I am feeling well and healthy (HA! I was out of bed at 7:30! Not 11!!!) I am really, very dissatisfied with the state of my life.

Where is my art? Where are my thoughts? What have I done with my brain?!

In the interest of preserving what brainiac power I have remaining, I am going to try to read and to discern and to write more. It may end up here, on the blog, or maybe I should start a new blog, I don't know. But I feel strongly that I have this brain, it was a gift, a blessing, and one I worked and studied hard to develop, and I will be damned if I just let it go to waste! No, sir, my brain and I are going to start kicking asses and taking names!

One of the sillier dilemmas I've encountered

Last week, I wrote a post on how I've hopped on the Facebook bandwagon, and how rewarding it has been in reconnecting with old friends who are now, in many cases, all over the world. Well, now Facebook has presented me with a dilemma.

You may not realise this about me, but I'm sort of a nerd. If I could be paid to read and study and think and discern, I would be beside myself with bliss and euphoria. Talk about eudaemonia! Not surprisingly, then, my childhood and adolescence was peppered with nasty girls who thought I was totally lame because I was so brainy. My best friend - we were in church school together - was friends with most of these catty, hate-filled girls, so her birthday parties were always "interesting" for me. We all ended up at the same highschool, but I didn't spend much time with her at school because she was always surrounded by these nasties. I am not complaining. I am entirely aware that I have a brain and a scholarly inclination that most parents long for in their children. I'm no dumb-ey, and I'm glad.

But just today, I logged onto Facebook to see what's new with my friends (one of them is coming to town next week, and we're making plans to get together!) and one of the very catty girls from so long ago wants to add me to her list of friends. Friends?! We were never friends! We had friends, no, FRIEND, in common, and that was it! Why does she suddenly want to be buddies now? Frankly, it's weirding me out, and I honestly don't know what I'm doing to do about it. Should I just add her to my list of friends, or should I block it? I realise that, in the big picture, it doesn't matter, but I don't feel like living my internet "life" completely differently from the way I live my "real" life. I don't want to turn into one of those people you run into after years who wears a big fake smile and says "Wow, it's so great to see you, we should have coffee, I'll give you a call!" when both of you know, she's never calling, we are never having coffee, and it's not even that great to see her. I refuse to become THAT person. But is it just rude not to add her? I don't know.

Like I said, it's a silly dilemma.

In which insomnia, thirstiness, and a disturbing realisation keep the author awake

When my latest bout of insomnia, paired with some serious thirst, woke me at 4 this morning, I thought I might as well use the time to consider some of the thoughts that have been peppering my brain for the last 24 hours or so.

The inner confusion began when I read this post on Feministing, a fantastic blog which I highly recommend. And I'll admit, upon reading it, my initial, heartbreakingly logical thought was "Well, that's logical" (don't worry, it does get better). They had a job opening, they filled it with who was available. It's not like she lost her job. And as was pointed out at TAPPED, if they wanted Griffin, they were going to find an excuse to use him. And besides, it's just logical. But had she been hospitalised due to appendicitis, kidney stones, or a herniated vertebrae, would the Justice Department have used that as an excuse? I think not.

Parenting demands inherent sacrifices, as it should. But when you get right down to it, these demands are disproportionately born by women. Child-bearing is a necessarily female endeavour, in spite of however involved the father may be. Because these demands are so predominantly woman's, the sacrifices most often are, as well. But why? If my husband and I want children equally, but also desire our careers equally, why must my future suffer, while his goes unencumbered? It only seems logical because that's the way it's always been.

It is argued that we choose to have children, so the sacrifices forced upon us are also our choice. But in examples of couples having children, it is also a choice on the part of the father, yet his career-sacrifices need be few if any.

Discrimination on the basis of pregnancy is discrimination on the basis of sex. The decision of this Court in Bliss, which reached the opposite conclusion, is inconsistent with the Court's approach to interpreting human rights legislation taken in subsequent cases and should no longer be followed. Pregnancy discrimination is a form of sex discrimination simply because of the basic biological fact that only women have the capacity to become pregnant...Those who bear children and benefit society as a whole should not be economically or socially disadvantaged. It is thus unfair to impose all of the costs of pregnancy upon one half of the population.

Brooks v. Canada Safeway Ltd., [1989] 1 S.C.R. 1219

But back to the confusion in my brain. So I'm thinking all these things, but everytime I would make an argument to myself, I would think "But children are a choice; children should require sacrifice". And this morning, sometime around 5, I realised something rather disturbing about myself. I read feminist blogs and I get all riled up inside, and I respect and admire the women who write these posts and books and articles and think they're fabulous, but I never picture them as mothers. I certainly don't intend to cease having a feminist brain once I am a mother. On the contrary, it will be of more necessity to me as a mother than it is now. But something (shall we blame the patriarchy? yes, let's!) has informed in me the great misconception that hard-core feminists are not mothers; that they have chosen to have successful, meaningful, rewarding, but very demanding careers instead of children and motherhood. And that's one of the more dumb-assey thoughts I've had in a good long while.

I'm looking at feminism in a whole new light this morning. It's whole purpose - truly, the entire impetus behind the movement - is inclusion: that women may be included in all the rights, freedoms, privileges, joys, sorrows, sacrifices, and advantages enjoyed by free men since the dawn of time. That ALL women may be included: those who are mothers, and those who haven't a maternal bone in her body.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go dig out my copy of Simone de Beauvoir.

Sometimes I'm glad to be a joiner

I'm not a big fan of just blindly joining things, so when my dancers/dancing friends started telling me I "had" to get a Facebook account, I thought, "Uh huh". I don't need to make a bunch of internet "friends" (I have my Knitty-buddies for that!) with 20-something jock guys looking to "cyber". Yuck. However, I will admit that I was mistaken. Turns out many, many of the people I have known over the years, including a great number from my undergraduate programme, are on Facebook. And now I'm reconnecting with them! It's wonderful, really, to be back in touch with dear, old friends, people with whom I had lost touch, people who, due their careers and academic pursuits have moved far from home, often several times, thus making it difficult to find contact information for them. I am finally in contact with a friend in Wales, a friend in BC who has become a world-class journalist, a friend from Girl Guides and dancing who used to live down my street when we were young, and undergrad classmates who - when last I saw them - were dating fellow classmates but are now engaged to one another.

It feels strange to me to think of the internet as such a blessing; perhaps I'm a bit of a luddite. But I'm finding my friends!! I can't tell you how thrilled I am to send them messages, and see recent pictures of them, see where they're working and read what's new in their lives. I've been feeling a little lonely for the last few years. I love my husband, and his friends are also my friends - now - but the friends I made for myself, people with whom I had interests and passions in common, people I knew years before I even met my husband and his friends...I've missed them terribly. So many of them have had a profound effect on who I am, and how I think. So many of them are absolutely brilliant! And after the relative repression of high school (because how many people truly feel encouraged to their full potential during high school, the pressure to fit in is so strong) having these friends sparked in me the ability to be my true self, a fully actualised form of Me.

Retrieving these friends is rather like finding a little part of myself. I can't tell you how happy I am!

And now we wait

Soooo...as you may or may not know, I haven't been truly, gainfully employed since early June of last year. I've been teaching dance classes (very lucrative, at $8 a week) and doing some seamstressing (to date, I've earned $175) but generally I haven't really been able to contribute. And that is because of the fun-and-games of Chronic Fatigue. Oo-de-lally! What fabulousness. Fortunately, my days of sleeping for 14 hours straight for five days in a row appear to be behind me, so my thoughts turn to earning a proper living for myself.

I interviewed for a job today, and I really, really want to get this job. I almost don't want to talk about it until I know if I got it or not for fear of jinxing it. If I get this job, many of the issues in our lives will begin to resolve (everything seems to come back to money when you don't have any!). Moreover, I will like what I do. I will want to get up and go to work in the morning. I really want this job.

No new knitting news. I need another set of dpns to start the second stocking and try out a few alterations to the pattern (it's just too tight around the heel) and the birthday scarf, frankly, is pissing me off. Maybe I'll give it another go tonight. Or maybe I'll fringe a big broadcloth square for one of the dancers for whom I'm making a dress. Either way, I'm off to watch some Firefly. Damn, that was a fantastic show!

A little late

Pattern: Number 20 from VogueKnitting Fall Issue 2006
Yarn: Merino/Mohair/Silk blend
Source: Wool 'n' Things, Ottawa
Needles: 5mm 20" Clover Bamboo Flex

I realised recently that I haven't blogged my sweater! I knit it up fairly soon after Christmas of yarn I found in a $5 basket at my LYS, Wool 'n' Things. But, see, here's the problem: I don't keep a knitting log. A knitting BLOG, yes, obviously, but I haven't started logging things as I'm doing them, just after I'm done. And now I see the error of my ways; henceforth I will amend them. The point is, I can't remember what the yarn was called. I know the ball bands had a picture of a merino ram (it had horns). It's a soft and lovely merino/mohair/silk blend, and is wonderfully soft with a very light halo.

I altered the pattern a little. Instead of knitting the body entirely of stocking stitch and using a turn-under hem, I knit in 3X1 ribbing for about 13". The sleeves needed some serious shortening to make them fit (apparently I have short arms, I had no idea) and knit in 3X1 ribbing instead of 2X2 because it just looked nicer. And I added about a quarter-inch of 2X2 ribbing to finish off the cowl, because I didn't like the way it was curling when I cast off in stocking stitch (as the pattern called for).

And at first...I wasn't sure if I LOVED the sweater. I liked it. But I just wasn't in LOVE with it. Wore it a few times, washed it (how I adore Eucalan!) and blocked it again. Better. A few more wears, washed it and blocked it, put it on this morning, and I am hopelessly in love with this sweater! The cowl gets nicer and nicer after every blocking, the body get smoother, and the stitches just fit together better. Which is, after all, the point of blocking a sweater, isn't it?

As you can see, it's cozy and warm (that's today's late winter snowstorm you see in the pics) and acceptable clothing for the wrangling of puppies!

Hrm.

I have tried on the stocking. And it seemed....snug. Getting the heel on properly was just, sort of, difficult. And the pattern seemed very stretched, just around the heel.


So what do I do? I'm thinking of starting the second stocking, with the second ball of yarn, and adding a wedge-shaped inset of stocking stitch, or just increasing the number of stitches before turning the heel. Hrm.

The Future BIL has decided he would like cream kilt hose for the wedding. I think I'll be picking up the yarn and needles this weekend or next week. I'm excited to start. He's coming over tonight, so I'll measure his foot and all, and get the hose designed this week. My plan originally was to knit the foot toe-up in the round, then flat after turning the heel. I'm thinking now that that is a silly way to knit them (and why add a seam if I can avoid it?) so I think I'll just knit them in the round. Thing is, I want to ensure they are EXACTLY the same, so my plan is to knit them on two needles, at the same time. I've never used magic loop, and I've never knit two socks on two needles concurrently. I anticipate a little confusion to start, but I think it will work out in the long run. After all, I have the entire foot to get used to the method of knitting, and the foot is just simple ribbing. It's the leg that gets interesting!

Ooohh, wish me luck. I may have bitten off more than I can comfortably chew, and I have a very small mouth!

Insert segue here (I've got nothing): chow mein! Yummm! I love cooking broccoli; it goes from that dusty, sagey colour to vibrant green in just a moment. Onions and red peppers, some garlic, veggie stock, and some rice flour to thicken, serve over wheat noodles. Mmmmm..!

It may not be such a great idea

...to put down a project for which there is no pattern, because you're making up the pattern as you go along, for several weeks. It's easy to forget what you were doing, where you were in the pattern, and what the plan for the thing was.


All is not lost, though! Luckily, I've been carefully drafting a post for the pattern - for the lace alpaca stockings - on Blogger, so I was able to figure out where I was, and what my plan was to be.

I am not posting what I have done so far, because I am pretty sure the directions are strange and difficult to understand. Once I've started the second stocking, and have tweaked the pattern to be sure it makes sense to more people than just *me*, I'll post it. Assuming this works. And that it looks half-way decent. And fits.

Little else to report on the knitting front. I've started and restarted the ends to The Man's Birthday Scarf (which, as you may recall, was far too short. This is the risk one runs when knitting it lengthwise) and so far...I'm not sure. The problem seems to be that when I pick up what seems like the right number of stitches and start doubleknitting (as I did for the body of the scarf) the newly knitted portion pulls in and is narrower than the rest of the scarf. Meaning, it looks stupid. All homemade and badly done and stupid. I DO NOT want to frog the whole thing. NO. So I'll have to find a way to fix this. Blocking like mad? Or pick up too many stitches so that it almost flares outward, only to be snugged in by the doubleknitting? Haven't decided yet. I'll let you know.

In other news, it is warming up here. Nice mid-March weather, which means, of course, that it is gross and slushy and muddy. I discovered yesterday that the sidewalk plow has destroyed a significant portion of the front lawn. Not that the condo-corp will reseed. Oh, no, that's not their issue. Good grief, I want to move.

And, *hint hint*, that may happen someday in the not totally inconceivable future! I would need to have a job....but that might not be a problem, either.....Keep your fingers crossed for me, and for my sleep! Insomnia and office work do not work well together.

And why are there pictures of Wembley with this post? Because she's adorable, and I just love her to little puppy-pieces, that's why! Look at her little face....precious.

Be careful...

...you might eat the whole thing!

Randomly decided to bake some coffee cake the other day, so I did. Who needs cookbooks and recipes?

I tend to not really measure anything. I like to rely on taste and texture to determine the balance in recipes, so this is all pretty approximate.

D's Loaf O' Coffee Cake

1/2 cup margarine or softened butter
1/3 cup brown sugar, unpacked
2 Tbsps granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 tsps vanilla
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsps baking powder
1 tsp salt

Filling:

2 Tbsps brown sugar, unpacked
2 tsps granulated sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 Tbsp hot chocolate mix

In a medium bowl, beat together margarine and brown and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. I use a wooden spoon, and it takes about 3 minutes. Take a small taste of the mixture to ensure it's nicely sweet. If the mixture doesn't seems too heavy or dark, add a little more margarine or butter. Add eggs, one at a time, beating. Add vanilla, beating.

Dump half the flour on top of the liquid mixture in the bowl. Drop baking powder and salt on top of the flour, and incorporate all well. Add rest of the flour gradually until the batter is thick, but not so much that it looks like cookie dough.

Mix the filling ingredients together in a small bowl. Grease and flour a loaf pan or a smallish rectangular cake tin. Pour or drop (depending on the thickness of your batter) a 1" thick layer of batter into the bottom of the tin, and ensure that it is spread evenly over the bottom of the tin. Sprinkle a solid layer of filling over the batter. Pour most of the remaining batter into the tin, gently spreading evenly over the filling layer, and sprinkle the remainder of the filling over the batter. Pour the remainder of the batter into the tin, gently spreading it to cover, or almost cover, the filling layer.

Bake for about 15-20 minutes at 375 degrees. The cake should be a crisp golden brown on top, and will be very moist in the centre (a fork will not be totally clean when inserted into the centre of the cake).

Best served warm.

Try not to eat the whole thing by yourself, in one day. Like I have. Today.

My stars, I hate PMS.

Trial and Error

I was soooo happy to cast off the birthday scarf. Couldn't wait to see it off needles and get a good look at it. Wrap it around The Man's neck and take a gander.

The scarf was knit lengthwise on a 60" circ, so prior to cast off, I didn't know exactly how long it would be, nor how it would look.

The good news is: it looks great. The colours are lovely, the patterning somewhat random, which gives it a nice, organic feel. Lots of fun, interesting without being weird or girly (it is for The Man, after all).

The bad news: it is about 12" too short.

How, you may be asking, does such an atrocity occur? Is not lilknitter wise enough to know better than to cast on for the bloody project without knitting a freaking swatch first?!

No, apparently she does not.

I was in a hurry. I was able to crawl out of bed long enough to buy the yarn for the birthday scarf the day before the birthday in question, so I was a little short on time, and swatching for gauge was the corner I cut. I used Candi Jensen's pattern from Vickie Howell's DIYNetwork show, Knitty Gritty (which I've never actually seen, but I found the pattern online over a year ago, and knew it was destined to adorn The Man's neck), and the pattern called for a cast on of 400 sts. I looked at her gauge, and at the tension suggestions on my ball bands, and thought, Hey, pretty close; fit isn't a big issue on a scarf! I'll just go-o-o with it.

Gee, I'm dumb.

The scarf is short. Stupid short. Looks totally wrong short. And I was so pissed at myself! I know better than to skip the swatch! I always do a swatch! But NO! I was in a hurry. And because the damned thing was knit length-wise, adding length in pattern is...totally impossible.

But what if we change the pattern? Last night, it occurred to me: what if I knit in the same, or an approximately similar, pattern, but width-wise, picking up stitches from the short ends after weaving in the free-ends from the yarn changes.

So, that is the new plan. I had thought when I first saw my serious error in judgement that there was no hope for the scarf, that it would have to be entirely frogged and start again. But I have renewed hope.

I have had to roll back my progress bar by a good margin.Let's just cross our fingers that I don't run out of yarn.

FO details once there is, you know, a FO.

It's been cold but hesitantly sunny here. Wembley tries to seek out a sunbeam every day, which is difficult, since we're sort of NNE/SSW facing, with windows only on the front and back of the house. But she tries, and sometimes she succeeds.

A first

I don't think I have ever contacted a Member of Parliament regarding a political or social issue. But there is a first for everything.

In attempting to return to Canada after suffering persecution, imprisonment, and torture in their native Iran, a family has been detained at the Hutto Detention Centre near Austin, Texas. The couple are Iranian citizens, but their son is Canadian-born, and a Canadian citizen, and is being held in a converted prison, with only an hour of schooling a day, and he and his mother are separated from his father at night. The boy is ill, suffering allergies and asthma as a result of the facility, and is losing weight due to the inedible food.

Bloggers are encouraging readers to contact Peter MacKay, Minister of Foreign Affairs regarding this family's situation. News media have published copies of the letter Kevin, the son, has written to Prime Minister Harper.

Well over 100 children and infants are held at Hutto, wearing uniforms and locked in their rooms at night.

I've got things to show you!

Have all the ladies scheduled their annual poke-n-prod? I was fortunate enough to win her first drawing! After a delay due to the package being delivered to the wrong house, and my neighbours' unwillingness to, you know, walk 8 feet to my door (have I mentioned my neighbours are craaaaaazy?) the envelope has arrived!! Here're the goodies:

The yarn is so vibrantly blue and turquoise and violet! It's very lovely, and now waits to be knit into some lurvely socks....something fun and funky.

It's been a big day of cooking and baking. On the way home from the studio last night, I picked up some groceries. I'm trying to get Hubs and I to eat healthier food - not too great a challenge for me, but a bit more for him. I brought home some fruit, yogurt, tofu, and a butternut squash. I've never cooked with squash before, except the occasional zucchini, but I figured hey, makes good soup, right? Today I roasted up 5 onions and half the squash with two carrots and some rosemary. Whizzed them up in a blender 2 hours later with some veggie stock, then threw it back in a saucepan to add pepper, salt, sage and some sugar. Yummy.

I still had half a squash. Roasted it with butter and brown sugar, peeled the rind off, gave it a blend, too, and made muffins! Hubs is a fan of pumpkin muffins, and these are a close second, though definitely not as 'squash-ey' as pumpkin would be, and they would be better with molasses instead of sugar. Still, yummy.

Dinner? Lentils! A recipe from recipecottage.com (which I LOVE, by the way) for essentially a lentil, onion and rice pilaf. Not bad, but not really flavourful. Mmm, maybe with some saffron next time, and served with some sort of flavoured yogurt sauce. Scrummy.

Yeah, the birthday scarf is still, uh, not done. I'll keep you posted.

There's little else in Cornwall

Today was a fascinating day of NOT being a total loser!

For those in our audience who do not live in Ontario (which is, I think, pretty much everyone) we have a lovely system known as the Graduated Licensing Programme. At 16, you can take a written test, which, having passed, grants the lucky lady to a G1, which is essentially a learner's permit. After a year, passing a road test gets you a G2, which allows you to drive alone with a few restrictions. The G2 lasts for at least a year, and up to 5. I'm a bit of a procrastinator, so I've sort of...put off taking the road test that takes me from a G2 to a G - General licence. My G2 expires on February 27, and if I fail to take the final road test before that happens, I get to start all over again at the beginning, which would be Hubs driving me around (oh, can you imagine how thrilled he'd be to drive me to opera rehearsals and then WAIT for three hours until I'm done?)

Anyway, I was able to schedule a test on Monday for this morning. And Hallelujah! I passed! I was nervous because tests make me nervous. I usually do really well on them, but still I get all twitchy when faced with a test. And it went fine, because, well, I know how to freakin' drive! So now I'm a real grown-up driver, with a real grown-up licence. Fabulous!

In more knitty news:

I'm a fan of the KIP. I'm a fan of the doing-things-in-public-that-are-totally-appropriate-but-most-people-don't-do, like breastfeeding. I will feed my children when and where they are hungry, with only a few exceptions (ok, middle of church seems strange and kinda wrong) but at a friend's house, or when people are over, or in a park....you're getting the idea. I mention it largely because I had a conversation with a good friend of Hubs, who seemed totally grossed by women he'd seen nurse in public (I'm such a child, it's NIP!) We had this conversation on Saturday, by KIP evening. Hubs had a gig at a bar/restaurant in the 'burbs, and our friend Mike Munnik was opening. This is the friend who had Hubs and I sit in when he recorded his EP, so he had us sit in on the last three songs of his set. Which was wicked. Anyway, I brought the birthday scarf along in an effort to have more than just untapped balls of yarn for Hubs the following afternoon, and knit while the boys were soundchecking. I finished a stripe and a half, moreover, I knit in a bar, which I always enjoy. I used to knit in the grad pub on campus when I was in third and fourth year. My friends made a little fun, I didn't care, it was good times, all around.

I mentioned the birthday scarf. Hubs' birthday was Sunday, but I was so sick last week there was no way to get the yarn earlier than Saturday. He got a teeeeny bit of knitting on needles, and a few balls of yarn. I think - I hope - he likes the colours I chose for him.

The yarn is Rowan 4-ply Yorkshire Tweed, and it's just lovely. Truly superb. Not cheap for such low weight, short yardage balls of yarn, but fine for a very nice scarf. I'm knitting it lengthwise on a round needle, so it won't photography well yet. Soon as it takes a good pic, I'll post for you. I'm double-knitting and adding texture....I'm really enjoying working on it. I often forget how rewarding simple knits, like scarves, can be. No worrying about shaping, just textured stitch patterns and a nice meditative knit. I like it.

Having spent 4 hours (1.5 getting Hubs to work and myself and the car to the testing place, .5 on the test, 1 getting myself home, 1 picking up Hubs and coming home again) in the car today, I have done precious little else. Laundry to do, and a scarf to knit.

And don't think I've abandoned my stocking project. I have an entire foot completed, and I'm working my way up the ankle. And keeping tidy notes to post some day, should anyone other crazy person feel like knitting her own stockings.

I am a mad woman.

But not so much as most. There are horrible things happening in this world, and not so horrible things, but things more common and also quite devastating. And there is the sadness of watching someone publicly self-destruct. I'll admit, I'm a bit of a trashy gossip reader. How stupid, I know. But in the past 6 months or so, I've found that a lot of the gossip I'm reading is just demonstrating how disappointing and truly terrible, Western culture can be (maybe it's all people, everywhere, but since I don't know for certain, I won't paint everyone with the same pathetic brush). Example: last summer, gossip columns documented the rapid shrinking of Nicole Richie. And no one ever seemed to take any action to help the girl! She was sloooowly killing herself, and everyone just watched. More recently, Britney Spears has taken a pretty fantastic trip off the deep end, and again, everyone seems to just watch and enjoy it. Was I ever a fan of Britney Spears, or care about her life or career? No. But do I want to watch her get so royally fucked up that she publicly shaves her head (the owner of the salon is hoping to make millions off the hair she left behind, the clippers used, and the can of Redbull she was drinking, isn't that sweet of him?) and enters rehab? Absolutely not. I feel badly for her. She's obviously in some sort of crisis, and her - and her children's - life is going to suffer dearly for it. And the general attitude in gossip columns is that of gloating enjoyment. It's sad, sad that we think it's acceptable to profit emotionally from other humans' suffering, and sad that her little life has turned out this way.

I lurke.

Can you name the episode of Buffy in which that line can be found? If you can, you will win...well, bragging rights, but that's got to be worth something, right?


So it's a de-lurking day. I'm pretty sure that only one of the bloggists whose blog I read actually knows that I read her blog! Hence the de-lurking. A systematic going through of every blog I read and ensuring I leave a comment on the most recent post. The problem is that I always feel like I need to have something interesting or insightful or witty to say if I'm going to leave a comment. But that's silly, because I look forward to any and all comments, not just "really good ones". So I apologise to everyone for whom I have never left a comment. I'll be better from now on, I promise!

Ah-ha!

Lookitthat!

THAT is what I want to see when I log on! Yippee! I got my header back!

New Blogger, I'm still not your biggest fan, but I'm coming around....I'm slowly coming around.

Knittin' through a fever

Ewww.

I'm si-i-i-i-i-i-ck.


I've been in bed all day, every day, since Sunday night. Blegh. This is pretty much the scene with Wembley around naptime, which is most of the time, I'm afraid.

The good news is that all this prone-ness has given me time to knit (between the frequent naps, mugs and bowls of hot things, and general lying around in misery).

I had this tweedy-green superwash wool in about a sport weight that was originally a scarf and part of a hat. The hat was never finished, the scarf was reinvented at least once, and I was never happy with the yarn in its incarnations. But the yarn is beautiful! It became Christmas knucks for my father (pics still to come, some day), but there was still a lot hanging around, waiting to become something fun. Not enough for a real project for me.....but enough for Wembley!

It's a teeny aran-style sweater. A pretty cable braid up the spine, a little ribbing on each side, a 1x1 ribbed split-collar (with a snazzy paprika stripe) and: bobbles on the bum! It's a snug fit, and covers her all the way to her skinny hairless belly. It's a bit of a challenge to get on her if she doesn't feel like being cooperative, but it keeps her warmer than anything else we have for her, and that's important given the weather we've been having here lately.

And the stockings are on three needles! It took forever. I had to frog that toe at least three times (maybe more) but it seems to be working out so far. I'm keeping careful notes, so I'm hoping to post an accurate recipe for my little creation. Here's hoping all goes well, and here's a pic of our progress to date: