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May 30, 2005

Still Happy!

My goodness. Its been a busy weekend.
After much preparation and hand-wringing (and mop wringing!) Marcel has made it to his splendid new temporary home! It was a pretty smooth transition, if slightly disorienting, but in all I think he is digging his new digs. For one thing, the people bed is at small dog height, even if the narrow passage between couch and table, which leads to the bed area, is off-putting due to the slippery wood floor. Nonetheless our boy has shunned the fluffy, spanking new dog bed, the one he test-drove himself at Petsmart. In fact it was the only one he deigned to jump into on the floor of the Petsmart, the others got a cursory sniff and a wave of the paw. But in the end it is the Uncle-scented people bed that will win out every time! Believe it! Even if it means being stranded for several hours with no water, the floor is that scary. Furniture arrangement is being modified even as we type! Not to worry!
In any event, we are eternally grateful to Marcel's Uncle Wininger for giving a needy little dog a happy place to park his patas! And plus a bonus warm lap to sleep on under the computer desk! A very sensitive Boston Terrier could get used to this sort of lifestyle. Yes, indeedy.
There is another bonus which we are also incredibly delighted by, Marcel has a new best canine pal, Skipper, a 6 year old bichon frise with a sweet (and romantic!) disposition, and regal tail plumage of the finest quality. Much romping about the garden (Skipper belongs to Dawn, the landlady, who has a wonderful garden which includes much whimsical statuary as well as birdhouses in all shapes and sizes, and flowers! Oh, the flowers!) has already begun, and plus sharing of cookies al fresco! The two have found a favorite mutual pastime, chasing one another the length of the backyard path, which connects to the first floor hallway, into Dawn's house, skidding to a stop at the front door, and then its all the way back again to the garage, with tongues and at least one tail wagging.

And now, for your pleasure, a rare visual treat! In honor of summer and Marcel's happy new living arrangement, (with thanks for scanning services to you know who you are!) I give you a preview of the new Duchamp! issue. Enjoy!

Posted by at 10:30 PM | Comments (3)

May 25, 2005

Mystery cake!

Luckily I don't live anywhere near here!(The place where, rumor has it, Marcel's Uncle Wininger and his friend, A Very Strange Little Man, are having an art show in September~ stay tuned to the Knit-A-Log for details.) Anyway, if I did, I think Chocoflan would do me in. I would be found on Halsted Street comatose for real, not from ennui but with a big smile on my face and cocoa dust on the corners of my mouth, a chocolatey fork clutched in my grubby hand. Oh cake! Oh cake, how I adore you! Its bad enough that I am within easy biking distance from this place.
Yesterday I went for a longish bike ride in which I rediscovered the lake, which I tend to forget about. It is kind of pretty. Usually I avoid the bike path because it attracts these wandering, seemingly directionless people, on foot, rollerblade, and bicycle. Now, lord knows I have no problem with wandering. But on the bike path its good to have a plan, lest you become a menace. My plan is I go slow and try not to thwack into anybody.
My ultimate plan was to head to John's house to prepare for Marcel to move in (longish story some of you may know), but it was such a lovely day, and the sun was shining and the smell of flowers was everywhere and the streets were quiet and green. So I kept riding, looking at houses and imagining what me and Marcel could do with a nice backyard or a balcony, and what kind of flowers I would plant in my garden. At some point I realized that I was tired and if I intended to get anything done I needed to stop and rest, and since I was near to German chocolate cake what could I do? So I sat in this square little park thingy eating cake in the sunshine, watching pigeons watching me. A pug dog came along too, with his person, asked for a bite of cake, and, receiving none, went on his puggy way. I took out my sketchbook and tried to scribble something but mostly it was nice to watch the people and feel the sun on my face. On the way home I rode through the park where I like to take Marcel on nice days, and where there are smooth, curving, slightly hilly paths. Then I rode part of the way in the so-called bike lane, one of a few that run along busy streets, and which seemingly serve no purpose. A lot of drivers look at them less as bike lanes and more as alterno-parking lanes, which means bicyclists have to go around them into traffic. Somehow leaving their hazard lights on is supposed to make that ok. Do they think they are being clever? Oh, how it boils my potatoes! Anyway. The other thing about the bike lanes is they are also car-door opening lanes. Who thought this was a good idea? Ok, I'm done now. Something I actually enjoy quite a bit about the roads in the city are these speed bumps the size and configuration of Volkswagen Beetles. There is this little bit of excitement to be had from bouncing up one side and coasting down the other which keeps things interesting.

As for knitting news ~ one of the little baby cantaloupe socks is coming along nicely. It is so cute I have to keep from eating it all up in one bite. No! I couldn't do it, because! I already had to do the heel over again! There is all of this short-row weirdness that was weirding me out but I think I get it now. Oh, the cuteness.
Pictures someday soon, I swear.

Posted by at 06:45 AM | Comments (2)

May 23, 2005

the E in me

This weird brain-fever that I seem to have is stubborn. Could it be an as-yet undiscovered form of Alzheimers, in which the victim slowly and painfully bores themselves to death? Here are the symptoms thus far, if I can stay awake long enough to type them all. Nothing seems worthwhile to do, even napping. The future looks like a big old black and white cornfield stretched out for miles and miles. Didn't I have big plans for it at some point? It used to seem like a good idea to want to be an artist, but now it just sounds funny. I hate to even carry on about it. That's the other thing. Everything important is out of reach. The universe teases me. (its not funny anymore, universe!!) I feel like there is cotton in my ears and all the windows in my house are dirty. I am the poster child for paxil, except not sad, its something different. But there must be a pill for this somewhere. What is the brain chemical which controls excruciating ennui?? Cause I've got it. It seems like a small thing but its no joke!
I'm stuck, stuck in insidious suspended animation. It feels like I am sitting still watching everything go by. One of these days I will just lay down on the sidewalk and there I will be. Not comatose. Not dead. Just a Pippy shaped lump of nothing.
Oh gosh, I don't mean to bring anybody down. I think its just I have too much time on my hands. And plus I still feel weird about the fact that I didn't manage to get hired at a stupid corporate bookstore where I didn't want to work anyway. Which makes me feel like the world has no useful place to put me, (not that I think working at a corporate retail job is useful to anybody in particular, least of all me, although the world is more inclined to give you insulin that way, which, right now, its not, oh but that is another boring story) which ordinarily wouldn't bother me, because I don't think everyone has to have a place, exactly, or be useful in any particular way. I don't know what my problem is. Its not anything anyone else is doing or not doing, or can fix. Its weird. I'm hoping that it goes away on its own. Maybe it is one of those 24 hour things. Over and over again.
I swear I will write something amusing.

Ok, here it is. Today I am forcing myself to work on Duchamp! in which Marcel explains, in English (although we are planning another Broken French Pour Chiens section this issue too) why he never wags, but only spins. Oh, some folks say that its a sin, to never wag but only spin. But a dog can't wag if his waggin's broke, is what Macel says to those folk. Which is true because he only has a mere peanut in place of a tail, having been maimed as a youngster, thus, he compensates. Today I have had to google "sit n spin toy" for a visual. Amazingly, they still make them. Marcel actually doesn't require any devices outside his own hyper self. But it makes for a funnier illustration. Look for the new issue soon, so soon!

I promise I'll cheer up.

Posted by at 01:40 PM | Comments (5)

May 21, 2005

swimsuit area part 2

Ok, I hope I'm not the last person to know about this. But in case no one else has seen it I will provide a useful link to splendidly crocheted lewdness! I love it. The kleenex cozy has to be my favorite. That or the ear muffs.
Here is what I would like to see. The menstrual afghan.
When I' m not looking at pornographic needlework on the internet, I have been amusing myself by knitting teeny-weeny itty-bitty little tiny baby socklets (the Better Than Booties Baby Socks in the Summer Interweave Knits) on size 0 needles, which I've never used before. Its like knitting, only smaller. You have to squint quite a bit and make sure you have enough light. Its pretty fun as long as you don't drop any stitches. Plus omg, the cuteness. The socks are light orange cantaloupe-ish color, which I am thinking is maybe a little bit less macho than, say, blue, but how macho does a baby have to be anyway? Because unconfirmed rumors have it that my fairy godchild is soon to be big sister to a little brother. Confirmation will be coming soon, very soon!

Posted by at 08:29 PM | Comments (0)

May 20, 2005

fuzzy

How does it happen, that one can become so utterly uninspired?
Is it knitter's block?
And plus here is a confession~ I have had A Treasury of Rowan Knits out of the library since last July.
Well the thing is I used to live closer to the library and then I moved. Plus I want to make this one sweater that requires 7 balls of Rowan cotton glace and 2 sizes of needles that I don't have. So I procrastinate, thinking that one of these days I will have enough money to buy yarn and also pay my library fine. Or else I will drag the book to a xerox machine, but that sucker is heavy and I am extremely lazy. My one and only Library Boy, the real Library Boy who inspired all fictional Library Boys you may or may not know about (The same one who is starting his new better job next week and of whom we are immensely proud!) would say I am a problem patron. I am! I admit it.
Anyway, last night just to make something I made a washcloth. This is how bored I am.
Today I also got size 0 needles for sock knitting and didn't buy any yarn at Arcadia Knitting.
Then I did a felting experiment that failed.
The only felty thing is my brain. Its linty in there. Believe it!!

Posted by at 10:28 AM | Comments (1)

May 17, 2005

Here is an interesting story from today's NY Times which explains why I don't freeze completely solid during the wintertime. I always wondered about that, and also its good to know that one has something in common with tiny frogs that live near the Arctic Circle.

Posted by at 10:09 AM | Comments (0)

May 16, 2005

lettuce and cake

Hey look! its us!
The truth is, Quimby's will sell your zines if you just ask.
But still it gives me a sense of accomplishment. Its these small things, you know?

Posted by at 12:41 PM | Comments (3)

May 15, 2005

what bears really do in the woods, left to their own devices

If you ever go camping, dear readers, here is a word of caution, never leave your iBook behind in your tent when you go off hiking. Otherwise, clever bears might get their paws on Photoshop and you never know what can happen then!

Not a bad cut and paste job, for a creature with no thumbs!
Fortunately, in this case, he hadn't discovered layer blending. That's when things really get out of hand.
Or paw. Ha ha.

Yesterday I knitted a pink thing that was going to be a foot for a stuffed animal but turned into a sock. I was working on it in Kopi and someone asked me what it was and I was like, well its supposed to be a foot but maybe its going to be a sock. Then once it was finished it was in fact a sock, so I had to knit a mate for it. So now I have these pink baby socks and no girl babies small enough to give them to..(ahem.. Molly & Squirrel, which is it?? You don't have to tell me!) Most likely I will take them apart again and make them into something else.
Yesterday was also very auspicious because on the way home I visited this goldfish pond which these people have right out next to the sidewalk, where anyone can look in. Then I also met a rather regal English bulldog who was having a nice nap in a sunny place, and thus really could not be bothered to wake up to say hello. He did turn his head towards me and open his eye a teensy bit to squint at who it was squealing in his ear that he was cute! So cute! Omg! And the wrinkles! So cute cute cute!!!

Today turned out somewhat auspicious too. :-)
More later.

Posted by at 10:23 AM | Comments (2)

May 10, 2005

the smell of pinkness

It occurred to me this morning that if I were you I would be asking me if I had ever knit a log.
And the answer is no, but there are people out here besides me who just might when they are done with robots and cupcakes! (go to Odd Objects-click on the lightbulb!) Oh the cuteness!!! And plus I have a newly arrived skein of pristine petunia-pink Lamb's Pride worsted! Which even kind of smells like a petunia, except more manly. Believe it! Its true!
In any event, I feel cuteness coming on, big time. Stay tuned!

* * * * * *

I have to add, lest anyone be concerned, that no felines were injured in the cat hole incident! The word headlock was a bit of an exaggeration, for comedic effect. For the record, Eli was gently but firmly cradled, to prevent another sudden pataphysical feline freak-out. No actual wrestling holds were employed! He's fine!

Posted by at 10:02 AM | Comments (1)

May 09, 2005

The Cat Hole 2000

Here's the thing about cats. They are crafty but they will never knit you a poncho.
Yesterday an extraordinary feat of cat mischief went down. It seems Eli was bored.
John and I and the dogs were watching Blade 2 on cable, which John says is better than the first Blade. I don't know because I didn't see it, all I know is Kris Kristofferson and guys whose faces open up in three directions to reveal three-pointed tongue thingies really, what more do you need. So we were totally spellbound by the tv, and then I finally got up to go in the kitchen and that's when I noticed the a corner of the screen was pried in on the screen door.
Sebastian was sleeping on the bed in the guest room, but Eli was nowhere to be found. I even did the canned cat food test, and no one came. So John and I started searching around out in the alley, peeking under dumpsters, cars, bushes, fences. We looked up the stairs and down into the basement stairs and that's when I noticed a puddle of something oily and some diminutive paw prints. But no E.
We started to get more nervous, and some neighbors came home and helped us look around a little.
Then I went down the stairs to examine the paw prints more and that's when I noticed a small hidey-hole under the stairs and peeked in, and praise Jaysus, two giant terrified yellow eyes were peeking out! We lured him out of the hole with canned catfood. He jumped out of my arms and tried to run off again but then came back and went right back down into the hole again! Finally, John got him into something of a headlock and we got him in the door. Once inside the E sprawled on the floor and looked peevish for a while, as though we had done something very offensive to him.
Cats!!!! They are hairy little freaks!!!

Posted by at 10:49 AM | Comments (1)

May 08, 2005

Bears

At this time, the Knit-A-Log wishes to express our absolutely undying gratitude and love for our very own guardian angel without whom we don't know where we would be. As with all guardian angels, you never know what form they may come in, and this one is my very own Bear benefactor! Who has saved my bacon I can't tell you how many times, and taken me out for breakfast into the bargain! Its like the song says," they just don't come no better than a bear." Believe it! Its true!!!

* * * * * *

There is nothing quite like waking up in a nice fluffy bed with one's poodle snoring softly, to the sound of birds singing, with sunshine coming in through the window. The animals are always so happy that its another day! And its time for our walkies! And we are up and have our leashes on! Oh, and we are sitting by the door quaking with anticipation!! It was joyous for me too, because its a beautiful warm spring day, and the flowers and leaves are out, and its a quiet Sunday morning. There was coffee when I came back and Marcel's din-din (another occasion for ecstatic dancing) and the sheer joy of it all was almost overwhelming. Its these little things, I guess.

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms and prospective Moms and new Moms and soon to be Moms! And especially to my Mum of all Mums, The Mum Supreme, The Queen Mum, my very own!!

* * * * * *

Oh, I have to add! A box of yarn came from Texas, and I just got to open it today! So its Christmas on Mother's Day! Ooh, the Lamb's Pride worsted, the cottony blue Cotton Classic, the Red Rose (for passion!) cotton, the mystery one that looks like clouds! And in the very center of it all, the black and silver sparkly Romance (what can it mean?!?) I think I'm swooning!

Posted by at 08:25 AM | Comments (0)

May 05, 2005

double dawg dare!

"And now", cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"
-from Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

I'm dog-sitting! And cat-sitting!
Marcel & Sidney (dogs), and Sebastian & Eli (cats, in order of seniority) and I are leading an unsupervised and untamed existence for the next five days. Last night the dogs ate chicken jerky until their eyes glazed over, then romped in the people bed late into the night. Then we had an episode of midnight barking and someone landed back in their kennel. Marcel and I went to The Perfect Cup this morning, where we had iced tea (he got his tongue right in there before I could stop him and he started slurping! That dog does not need caffeine) and split a blueberry muffin. He had a big bowl of water, too.
The cats are a little lonely but for the most part well behaved. They did scoot their water bowl *almost* to the very edge of the counter, in the process of flinging water around, one of their many hobbies. They also had their Olympic events last night up and down the hallway, once the lights were out. Sebastian is very large and hits the floor like a bowling ball.
Before its all over some lucky canine is going to get a bath. I can smell it!
Its almost impossible to get any knitting going when one is surrounded by untamed beastes.
Stay tuned to the Knit-A-Log for developments.

Posted by at 09:59 AM | Comments (1)

May 02, 2005

very auspicious

If he had lived, today would have been my dad's 75th birthday.
As it happened, he passed away 14 years ago tomorrow.
He is buried in Davenport, Iowa, next to his father, who died before I was born. As far as I know, he and his father weren't especially close. From what I know of my grandfather, he was something of a character, a tough nut who was admired but also feared. He was a labor leader, organizing workers at an Iowa foundry, and writing for a union newspaper. At some point, according to the fragments of family history that I know, his activities so threatened the foundry bosses that he received death threats. My grandparents left their home in Iowa in the middle of the night with their family and went to the last place anyone might look for them in those days, Oklahoma. My knowledge of family history is vague, but at some point they returned home. My dad grew up, joined the Navy, played jazz, was a writer and an artist, met my mom in Chicago. The way I remember him my dad was smart, funny, moody, musical, quirky, intense, mercurial, slightly odd, always struggling against who knows what internal demons. Later in his life he had a salt-and-pepper beard and a slow, distracted walk. He was a creature of habit who kept literally millions of pens at the ready in every pocket, every room, every corner of his car at all times. I remember him propping his sketchbook on the steering wheel and sketching at red lights while driving. Pens were also drumsticks for him, having been a drummer, and frequently he played along to jazz on the radio or some internal music. My dad was a graphic designer before computers replaced pens and t-squares, and the sound of a squeaking marker is inextricably linked with him in my head, alongside the sound of a typewriter and The Modern Jazz Quartet. My hands are his hands, feminized but with the same slightly squared-off fingertips. I remember the side of his left pinky finger was perpetually ink smudged. When I draw, the smudgy side of my hand is a reminder. Sometimes I look at my hand when I am furiously sketching and think I have become him.
Happy Birthday, Dooey B, wherever you are! I miss you very much!

Posted by at 08:53 AM | Comments (4)