Unfurnished Brooklyn

2003-10-20T19:01:00.000-04:00

Well, it's official. unfurnished brooklyn has moved again.

You can find me by clicking here.

unfurnishedbrooklyn.typepad.com/ufb

2003-10-13T19:16:00.000-04:00

I'm trying something new (though my second post is a little depressing).

2003-10-08T07:42:00.000-04:00

You have to wonder what the rest of your day will be like when you wake up and:

a) Ahnold is governor of California
b) your cat is holding a gift inches from your nose: a freshly caught, not quite dead mouse
c) you're checking out blogs for a little good news and you find this, courtesy of redheaddread (good morning to you, too! let's pop our Advil together, shall we?)

I could crawl back under the covers, or I could go forth and face the world. Since I'm not sure what other gifts Babykitty has brought to me today, I'm not getting back in that bed. Bring it on, world.

No, I take that back. Be gentle with me, world.

2003-10-04T21:41:00.000-04:00

Ain't it a shame that I can't find 15 minutes out of my life to blog?

I usually post before I go to work, or late at night when Cheburashka is asleep. But this week was hectic: I overslept nearly every day and had to bring Cheb to preschool by car service, the internet-accessible computers at work were off limits due to training for the latest program that's going to "make our work easier!" And at night, I just crashed after washing dishes and making things ready for the next day. It also didn't help that I was fighting off a cold.

And speaking of fighting, here's why I need to hurry up and get my driver's license: Tuesday I missed the driver that takes Cheb to dayccare in the morning, so I took her to pre-k. I called the car service I always use, and told the dispatcher where I was going. Maybe I was a still little sleepy, but I gave him the wrong cross street. He corrected me with a similar sounding street on the same avenue, and I was all, yeah okay. So of course when the driver approaches the street, I realize my mistake and tell him to continue up the avenue.

Do you know he started screaming at me, with my child in the car? I told him to calm down, I got the street wrong, we just have to go a few more blocks. He kept yelling and asked me the address. I couldn't remember the street address, so I repeated the cross street, which was just a few blocks away. He started cursing in Russian, and I told him not to speak like that in front of a child. He was surprised that I understood, but then started yelling at me in English about knowing where I was going and insisting I give him the building number. Cheburashka was getting scared, and I told him (3 times) to stop because he was upsetting her. He kept on.

I asked him his name (cuz you know I was going to report his ass), and he yelled, "you give me address, I give you name." If my child wasn't in the car... The man would not shut up. We got to the pre-k, and he still was yapping. But here's the thing: I told the dispatcher that the driver was to wait while I dropped her off, then take me to the subway station. I really didn't think the guy would wait, and I surely took my time coming back from dropping off Cheburashka. But there he was. And since I can't be late for work (not for the next 3 months, anyway. Ahem), I needed him to drop me off. So I got back in. But since Cheburashka wasn't in the car, you know it was on.

I cursed his ass out when I got back in, and during the whole ride to the subway, we were screaming at each other. Man, the things I said to him. I don't know why he didn't pull over and kick me out the car. At one point we were stopped at an intersection where several cops were standing. One of them looked at us like, hmm, should I be getting involved in that? And through it all, the driver still wouldn't give me his name, but I told him I didn't need it to report him. Finally he got quiet, and tried to be nice when he dropped me off. I said, thanks for nothing, dumbass, and slammed the door on my way out.

And from there I had to go to work. In collections. More yelling and screaming. Grrreat. I did call the car service to complain, and when I gave my pickup address, the guy recognized me (as I said, I use them all the time), and he gave me the impression that this wasn't the first time they've gotten a complaint about the guy. That evening, when I picked up Cheburashka she asked, "are we going to take a taxi?" I said no. She said, "Good, because that man was yelling and making me grumpy. But you told him to be quiet and stop making me grumpy." I told her that no one was allowed to make her grumpy while I'm around. And she hugged me.

I finished reading The Two Towers, and started on The Return of the King. I am such a nutcase that I have the dvd for both Lord of the Rings movies, but I didnt watch the preview for the next one. Duuh. I realized I haven't read anything in ages, since I can't read and knit at the same time. And I used to be such an avid reader...I bought a new translation of Anna Karenina last year, haven't touched it. Been getting lots of recommendations (like the book reviews on Redheaddread's blog), but haven't picked up anything yet.Maybe I just needed to get the yarn addiction out of my system, now I can find that balance (read a little, knit a little).

One of the spacers between my teeth fell out the other day. Okay, maybe I helped it a little- I can't help twiddling them. I coudn't find the extras I was given, so I had to do without that night. I woke up hurting the next day. It was like my teeth snapped back into place. I had to wait til my lunch break, which is late in the day, to go get another one. I put it in at my desk, since I barely made it back to work in time, and have been twiddling with it ever since. But at least I know where the extras are should I need them.

2003-09-29T20:38:00.000-04:00

Well, it seems I still haven't learned to play nice with my yarn, so we're taking a little break from each other. The brown Summer Tweed top is still in my bottomless purse, though I haven't worked a stitch in days. I pulled out all my stash on Sunday while Cheburashka was with her father, and separated the "spring/summer" yarn from the "fall/winter" group, and made a list of what I needed to finish, wanted to start, and couldn't bear to look at anymore.

No more yarn, I've got plenty. I put away the cottons for next season, and will work up all the wool I have now. I have a few things to seam, a few adjustments to make to a couple of items I nearly finished last winter that somehow ended up in the back of the closet. And then there's my preciousss*...the copper Manos del Uruguay wool that I've been saving for the perfect design. I think I'm going to make an Aran- cable city, baby. There's a mohair sweater that I started before I realized that I don't really like working with mohair. That might end up on eBay; though I do love the yarn, knitting an entire sweater from it isn't as fun as I thought it would be. Or.. I might be willing to trade 7 skeins of Artful yarns Portrait in shades of grey. Any takers?

I also want to use some leftover 1824 Wool for a poncho for Cheburashka, but I'm not too sure about the measurements. I need to get out the calculator, do the math and figure it out instead of waiting for the perfect pattern to fall in my lap. She saw me trying on my Big Wool poncho, and now she wants one. I have some crochet patterns, maybe I could adapt one...

Yesterday I went on a cleaning binge: after pulling out my stash yarn, I found all this stuff that I don't use and is just taking up space. Next week, its all going somewhere: Goodwill, a church group, somewhere. Just gotta get it out of here. Maybe that's why I'm so unfocused lately: too much clutter. Need space.

* can you tell I'm re-reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy?

2003-09-26T21:46:00.000-04:00

I had an orthodontist appointment on Wednesday. Turns out that I don't need oral surgery, but they're going to put some weird contraption in my mouth to correct my bite. And to prepare for it, they placed these little rubber spacers between some of my upper teeth to make room for the contraption. It felt like I had food stuck in my teeth in eight different places. Lovely.

When I woke up yesterday, my teeth were aching. And I couldn't eat. So I had nothing but soy protein shakes, yogurt, and soup. Today was a little better, but I still had to eat soft foods. If these tiny rubber things are killing me, imagine when they install that metal thing. But, it is necessary. Long overdue, in fact. I searched for an image of the device, but instead found some very scary before-and-after photos, which I won't share.

Six months or more with a piece of metal in my head. Can't wait.

2003-09-25T23:47:00.000-04:00

Crazy, loony day yesterday. Will discuss tomorrow.

I got this today from my co-worker: he took this photo on his cellphone during his lunch break.

This is why I love this city: you can walk around in a panda suit, and no one bats an eye.

2003-09-21T21:43:00.000-04:00

I just got home, and I'm tired. But not a "week of work" tired, an "exciting day" tired.

That plan I had? Didn't work out. Instead of going bright and early to Atlantic Antic, we lazed around the apartment. We left for Knit Out around 11, and got there just after 12. I forgot that there's a playground there, so I had to deal with a lot of "can we pleeez go to the park now?" from Cheburashka. Thankfully she was distracted by the guy in the lion suit promoting Lion Brand yarn.

I was on the hunt for swag. Got a set of Susan Bates straight needles, #6. I was hoping for #8 since I lost one of mine. But I did get an H crochet hook, which I lost when a coworker ran off with it. Also got tons of patterns and several magazines. The coolest thing was getting a lesson in using the Bond knitting machine. I have one, and while I can get a few rows started, things quickly get crazy. I finally figured out what I was doing wrong- I was manhandling it, trying to force it to do what I wanted. (There's a lesson there...) I was also shown how to do intarsia on the knitting machine. Kewl.

At the table Lion Brand set up, there were stacks of patterns. I didn't get a single one, because there where many older ladies there, and they were not giving an inch of ground. Bad enough they were acting like it was a sudden 90% off sale at Loehman's, but I also had Cheb in a stroller, and people were practically falling on her. Are free Lion Brand patterns worth elbowing someone's grandma in the eye? No. So I left them alone.

Cheburashka and I then hit the playground, where she tried to get me to push her in the swing high enough to fly into the trees. I told her even if I could do that, it's not as fun as you think. Ask my sister how it feels: 30 years later, and I'll bet it seems like yesterday to her. Cheburashka played in the sandbox with a little boy who seemed completely smitten with her. I watched the Knit-Out fashion show through the chain-link fence.

We called her father, and met up with him at Union Square. While waiting for him, we watched a group of Mexican guys pull up in tricked out bikes: some gold, some chrome. I'm not talking motorcycles. Bikes. Bicycles. They wore shirts that read "Mexican Bike Club." It was the coolest thing. Some of the bikes had radios, and don't you know the Lion Brand lion came over and was dancing to the music? I'm telling you, I love this city.

Cheb's father showed and the two of them went uptown, and I went back to have a child-free crack at Knit-Out. Then I went uptown to see my sister. Y'all didn't really think I'd skip it, didja? It was nice, but not very many people attended: they were competing with the African-american Day festivities a few blocks over, and several other festivals around town. But my other sister was there too, and two of my nephews. I took a cab down to pick up Cheb, and brought her up to hang with her aunts and cousins. Cheburashka loved finding turtles and crayfish in the pond in Morningside Park, and I had a strange talk about God with my nephew. I don't spend enough time with my family; another reason why I want a car. I'm whipped from the long train ride home.

But, then again, its a good tired.

2003-09-20T23:38:00.000-04:00

I really don't know what was wrong with me today.

Saturdays generally bite. I guess I'm so frayed from the work week that I just want to conk out, but of course I can't because its just me and Cheburashka. So there's no lunch hour, no union breaks. I'm trying to balance the need to have time to myself where I'm not running an errrand or cleaning, with the need to make up for the fact that 12 hours a day, 5 days a week I'm apart from my daughter, so why am I bellyaching about more time away? It's very conflicting.

And its worse if I don't have anything planned. I did have a few things in mind for today, but the heck with it. I was just too tired. So we stayed in the neighborhood, cruised the boardwalk, did a little food shopping. And got on each others nerves just a little.

Tomorrow is different: we are going to do a bit of traveling. There are so many things I want to do tomorrow, like Atlantic Antic, Knit-Out, and the street festival near my sister's place in Harlem. Oh, and Cheburashka's father will pick her up tomorrow as usual. My plan is to go to Atlantic Antic early (I used to go with my mom, and now I'm continuing the tradition with my daughter), then scoot into Manhattan to Knit-Out for an hour or so, then do the "prisoner exchange" with Cheb's father. I might not make it up to Harlem, which is too bad because my sister will be selling her photos there for the first time. Am I a crappy sister for going to Knit-Out and not to see my sister? Probably, but Union Square is just a few stops from Atlantic Antic. The trip to Harlem is a lot longer, and the the subway will be on a Sunday schedule. Actually, that street festival was supposed to happen last weekend, but got rained out.

Maybe none of this will happen. Maybe I'll just sleep all damn day.

One day this week I'm going to do an inventory of my yarn stash. Some of it might end up on eBay, some might be donated to the senior center nearby, and the rest I'll work on. I'm not buying anything else for at least a month. Despite the fact that no less than 3 yarn catalogs appeared in my mailbox yesterday. Now, I'm only giving myself a month because Stitches East is coming up. I probably won't go, but just in case I do, I on't be breaking any promise to myself. Then its back on the wagon.

I haven't knit since Thursday, and I think I'm going to make a couple of hats for me & Cheb before I go back to the sweaters. I've got the ChicKnits Bucket o chic hat pattern and its taunting me. I'm going to try a felted one with some stray Tahki Magic, and see how that works. The regular versions have failed miserably, and I have no idea what I'm doing wrong.

2003-09-19T00:14:00.000-04:00

Today was an okay day, nothing to get pissed off about, so of course I had to create something: I've got too much damn yarn. So much, I don't know where to start.

I finished the Twirl poncho (in 3 days, but then had to rip out half of it cuz I found a messed up stitch, then finished it on Wednesday). Still working on the brown Summer Tweed top, but I'm a little bored with the plain stockinette stitch. I had in mind a jacket with loop-stitch trim for the Natural Fleece yarn, and I cast on for the sleeve (I hate making swatches, so the sleeve is how I judge my gauge), and decided I wasn't too keen on the loop thing. A mite too girly for me. So now I'm stuck on what to do with it. A big chunky ribbed turtleneck? Maybe.

So I think I need to just not knit for a day or to, until I learn to play nice with my yarn.

Yesterday Cheburashka took me down a peg. I was rushing her to catch the bus home, then telling her not to stand on the bus seats, and just ordering her around more than usual. Instead of throwing herself to the floor and pitching a fit, she used my favorite weapon: sarcasm. She stood at attention, saluted me, and said yes sir! It made me laugh, and made me step back and realize what a drill seargeant I was being.

And Cheb has started preschool! She loves it, though she was a bit peeved on the first day when she didn't get any homework. She now struts around with the folder I made for her homeworks assignments (trace the circle, now color it in); now she's all, please, don't disturb me, I'm doing my homework. Too cute.

Had my third driving lesson today. The second was on the first day of school, and it was a nightmare: schoolkids and school buses everywhere. Actually, the lesson itself wasn't that bad. Except for when I clipped the mirror on a parked car. Today I learned to park, and did it right each time. I'm getting used to the feel of the car, and getting better at left turns. I guess I have to tell myself, hey, if a 16 year old can do it....

2003-09-14T20:27:00.000-04:00

Saw this at small hand's blog and had to do it here:

First bike: The first bike I had that wasn't handed down, was an orange 10 speed I bought off someone who may not have been the original owner. Karma got me, and the handles flew off while riding in Washington Square Park, and I landed on my head with the crack heard 'round the world. Woke up in Bellevue Hospital. Dumped the bike.
First best friend: Wanda, my neighbor. She was also my first crush- can't quite tell the difference when you're that young.
First car: Working on that one; never had a license.
First job: Chemical Bank (which has merged so many times, I don't know what its called now. Chase?). I was 17, and held a temp job where I signed out mortgage securities worth millions of dollars. And I was totally punk rock, had a bat-shaped beauty mark tattooed on my face with liquid eyeliner.
First screen name: Chachagirl. I blame you, Desi. I got sooo tired of the IM's: hey, wanna cha-cha?
First self purchased album: Too embarrassed to say. Can I preface it by saying I bought the single to the song that goes, "fee fi, fo fum, we're looking down the barrel of the devil's gun."? I think it redeems the fact that I bought a Styx album. Paradise something or other. Stop laughing.
First pet: Besides the haggard old tomcats I'd drag home, my first real pet was a hamster whose ear had been chewed off by a cagemate. I named him Van Gogh.
First piercing/tattoo: A sort of Celtic version of the woman's symbol. I hate explaining that it's not an ankh.
First independent home: My first apartment was a share on East 14th street and Avenue C. I was 21, and shared it with an ex-boyfriend (we'd long lost interest in each other, so it was cool to share a place). It was $400 (that's $200 each, can you believe it??), but it was undergoing renovation, so there were no floorboards in the bathroom. The toilet and tub perched on beams. Real hard to navigate when you stagger home drunk at 3am. I remember my sister's face when I proudly showed off my new pad: a split second of horror and revulsion, then, "oh, how nice."
First credit card: American Express. Stupidest thing I ever did. We are no longer affiliated. Suffice to say my next card had to be a secured one.
First love: I would like to exercise the rights afforded me under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution...
First enemy: Tammy, in third grade. School bully, and I had just transferred. Walked up to me on my first day and said she owed me a fight, so I busted her in the nose and went on my way. Never tried to fight me again, but she was a royal pain for the rest of the year.
First big trip: Bahia, Brazil on New Year's Eve, '96. Alone, and I almost didn't come back.
First play/musical/performance: School trip to Rockefeller Center for the Christmas show. Boring.
Last movie seen: Head of State. Rented it, regretted it. Why, Chris, why?
Last book read: Working on Ayun Halliday's "The Big Rumpus."
Last cuss word uttered: Fucking shit.
Last beverage drank: Tomato/carrot/celery juice. The only veggies I've had today.
Last food consumed: Sushi from a Russian kiosk that just opened on the avenue. Oh, I'm daring, aren't I?
Last crush: Someone who works in my department, on another floor. When I finally decided to bust a move, he disappeared. I don't know if he transferred, quit, got fired, but I'm too chickenshit to blow myself up and ask.
Last kiss: Cheburashka just kissed me on the cheek for no apparent reason.
Last phone call: My sister, yesterday, about meeting up next week. I'm on the phone all day at work, so I'm really lax about calling people when I'm home. I haven't picked up the phone at all today.
Last TV. show watched: Reruns of The West Wing.
Last time showered: I last showered yesterday morning. This weekend is for cleaning and laundry, so I'm a bit lax on personal hygiene...but I brushed my teeth, so I'm not that skanky.
Last shoes worn: Green suede sneakers from Payless. I'm on the lookout for cheap Doc Martens, if anyone knows where I can find them!
Last cd played: Lyube, a Russian band. Because when in Rome...
Last item bought: Fake shearling jacket for Cheburashka at a discount children's store nearby. $10, warm, can't go wrong.
Last downloaded: Yet another Microsoft patch.
Last annoyance: Buying jacket for Cheburashka, cashier finished sale, and instead of calling next, puts her chin in her hands and gets a faraway look in her eye. I know you saw me, woman! I just walked up to her and said very nicely (but loudly), "hi- are you open?" And plopped my items in front of her before she could answer. I hate when people pretend not to see you.
Last soda drank: The only soda I ever drink is diet Coke, but its been a few days since I've had one.
Last word written: One.
Last word spoken: Oops.
Last sleep: Had a 20 minute nap after I came back from my errands today. Cheburashka's father has her for 3 and a half hours on Sundays. Which is the only time i get just for me, and I spend some of it napping. I felt like I'd wasted precious time.
Last IM: Sukaynah, a few days ago.
Last weird encounter: I used to take the M train, and haven't in ages. The other day took it because I was super-early and it was there. The car I was in was nearly empty, odd for rush hour. And at every stop, an amazingly gorgeous man would get on and sit near me. After the third supermodel, I thought, wtf? Am I hallucinating? Am I still asleep? Am I about to live out a fantasy usually found in the letters department of a booty mag?
Last ice cream eaten: I really want a malted. So I bought some vanilla ice cream, and had a spoonful before I put it away. I made the malted after dinner.
Last time amused: Watching Cheburashka tear off down the block screaming "you can't catch me" to her father, and watching him (tired from work and stressed over his mother's illness) doing that fake "oh, you're too fast for me" run after her.
Last time wanting to die: The last section meeting at work.
Last time hugged: Big hug from Cheburashka when she got home. Even though it was after she hugged Baby Kitty, but that's okay.
Last chair sat in: Folding chair from Ikea.
Last shirt worn: Green hooded sweatshirt with "brooklyn" on it, in pink and white letters.
Last web page visited: knitrowan.com

2003-09-12T22:31:00.000-04:00

Friday Five time:

1. Is the name you have now the same name that's on your birth certificate? If not, what's changed?
Well, there are two additions: I've decided to add my mother's last name to my father's which I've used all my life, and then there's that pesky married name.

2. If you could change your name (first, middle and/or last), what would it be?
I'm completely enamored of the name Iris, so I wouldn't change it.

3. Why were you named what you were? (Is there a story behind it? Who specifically was responsible for naming you?)
I was named after my paternal grandmother, who died when I was young (though I did go to her country to visit her a few times when I was young. My father decided on it and my mother was cool with it.

4. Are there any names you really hate or love? What are they and why?
Love: Iris, Miles, Hazel, Nadezhda. Just the way they sound... Hate: Roslyn (only cuz of a grade-school archenemy), and Brandon (cuz there's a billion of them around).

5. Is the analysis of your name at kabalarians.com / triggur.org / astroexpert accurate? How or how isn't it?
Yeah, pretty accurate (I only checked Kabalarians), but then again I'm an open book.

2003-09-11T08:06:00.000-04:00

I want to get this out of the way before I go to work, and have to slog through the crowds visiting the World Trade Center site. I work close by, so I know I'd better bring lunch, because it will be just too crowded in the area.

Did that sound selfish? All these people remembering the tragedy and I'm worrying about getting lunch. I don't mean it to be, but my attitude has been affected by the activity around the site. From the photos on the burning buildings for sale immediately after, to the tourists purchasing "I was at Ground Zero" t-shirts and (god help us) headbands. There are people who lost loved ones who are truly there to mourn, but it is such a circus. Not as much as the first year though...maybe it will become less of a destination and more of a place where people go to pay their respects (and leave without tasteless souvenirs).

The radio is on, and people are calling in with their stories. Invariably, the stories are along the lines of, "I was supposed to be in the area, but 2 weeks prior I canceled my appointment- that was close!" Not to discount anyone's experience, we were all affected, but I never hear anything from people who were more closely affected. Maybe because those who weren't in the area need to connect to it, need to more clearly define their feelings by putting themselves within the circle of survivors. And I listen to the stories, because we all have one and we all need one, to make some kind of sense of it all.

I'm angry about the culture of fear that has increased since the attacks (remember, there were planes in Pennsylvania and the Pentagon). I'm angry that patriotism has come to mean intolerance of other cultures. Prevention of future attacks means reigning in basic freedoms. We were told, our openness allowed this to happen. Those who wish to harm us will use this against us. So that's got to stop. Brown men with beards, women in headscarves are to be feared, so detain them til they are no longer a threat (or are forgotten). I'm angry that when we try to get back to normal, we get another warning of some vague threat; nonspecific, but may involve trains. We don't know anything, but you might want to reconsider travel on a British plane.

I was also angry when I returned to my office on Sept 18. I stood watching the ruined, burning shell of a building, as a troop of burly ESU cops marched toward it, National Guardsmen (women, actually) holding their rifles next to me. I understand the anger of people when their homes are bombed, when their cities are destroyed by war, though may not always understand their reaction to it. But I understand that feeling: this is my home, my city, my people. How fucking dare you (whoever you are)?

I don't think I'm going to watch any of the specials about today. I don't need to see the footage yet again, it plays quite clearly in my head. I can still see it, feel the hot air from the blast, smell the jet fuel, watching things fall from the towers and realizing they are people, not quite understanding what's happening... nope. Don't need to watch it on tv.

In my angry, cynical way, I have to wonder: will this day eventually become a bbq holiday, like Memorial Day? Though I doubt that one day we'll wish each other a happy Sept. 11th.

/ramble

2003-09-10T07:42:00.000-04:00

Well...I tried to post photos of the completed Summer Tweed sweaters, but no go. I'm not that savvy wth the digital camera, and the pictures I put up on Monday didn't look that great on the screen. Especially the blue top, you can't see the cable details. So I'm going to come back on that one.

But I did get this in the mail yesterday, courtesy of Cucumberpatch and 4to4:

A hunk-a hunk-a chunky yarn. Rowan Big Wool (in camouflage green, and a white/beige mix), and Jaeger Fleece (in the center and top) in beige. There's also some green/multi Rowan Chunky Print atop the beige wool, but you can't quite tell that in the picture. I couldn't help myself, I started the beige poncho (shown in an earlier post), and got about 10 rows done while watching the Daily Show (actually took about an hour). So I guess I'm at my 2-project limit: the poncho at home, cuz its so big (#17 needles), and the dark brown Summer Tweed mock-neck sweater. Did I mention that? Last week I got this beautiful chocolate brown Summer Tweed (because, you know, brown is the new black), and I'm designing my own sweater (stockingette, 3x2 rib at the waist & cuffs, real simple). Maybe by the time I'm done, I'll have better digi-cam skills. It's going quickly: I cast on on the train Monday morning, and I'm already a few rows short of the armholes on the back.

Also, I'm still trying to find a new skin for my blog; something simple, but better.This one has too much blank, wasted space.

2003-09-08T21:10:00.000-04:00

Back in a flash...updating.

2003-09-04T20:21:00.000-04:00

Today the Daily News printed an apology due the large number of calls and emails regarding that horrible photo. Their excuse? the situation was newsworthy, and hey, they also showed a picture of him and his child. And of course, regrets if it upset the family. Hmmph.

Tonight I'll probably be up late stitching together the Summer Tweed sweaters- I lost the sleeve to the blue one, so I couldn't do it hte other day as planned. Today's humidity aside, it will get cooler soon, and I want to make a hat for Cheburashka. I've promised myself I will try working on one project at a time, instead of three or four. Okay, maybe just two: a small one I can tote with me and a larger one to do at home.

Yeah, that will go the way of my "no new yarn til I clear out my stash" promise.

2003-09-03T20:41:00.000-04:00

Today the Daily News ran a photo of a man, Anthony Bartholomew, who was murdered on Labor Day at the annual Caribbean Day parade. The photo was quite graphic, and showed him lying in a pool of blood, his head wound quite obvious. Can you imagine how his family and friends must have felt, seeing him on display like that? I feel that the paper (which I used to read every day, but no longer) showed as little concern for his humanity as the gunman. Inappropriate isn't the right word, but all I can think of. I'm so angry I can't even express how I feel, and sickened by the photo. I've seen more graphic photos elsewhere: what I find most disturbing is that the paper had such disregard.

Are young black men so worthless and dispensable, that there is no need to protect their dignity, even in death??

Damn. All I can say.

Well, I said more. I sent a letter to the editors- which, the more I think of it, was far too mildly worded. This is what I sent:

I can't express how terrible I think it is that you would run a photo of the young man slain in the Caribbean Day parade, lying in a pool of blood in the street. Nor can I imagine how his friends and family felt upon seeing the photo.

I can't recall seeing similar photos in the Daily News, and I've read it every day for most of my life. Even in wartime, your photos are not that graphic. And it is not even the graphic nature that disturbs me, it is the fact that he is reduced to a mere photo op. Perhaps it was meant to underscore the increasing violence in this city, however, your point was lost. It only seemed that you had no more concern for Anthony Bartholomew's humanity than the gunman who shot him.

And that is why you are losing a longtime reader.

If you want to send an email to the editors at the NY Daily News, their email address is: voicers@edit.nydailynews.

(sidebar: the young man who was killed has the same name as a co-worker of mine. When I heard the name on the news while getting dressed yesterday mornng, I freaked: this coworker recently returned from Kuwait, and I thought, my god, he returns from war and is shot to death in the street?? It wasn't him, because my coworker was only here on leave and has been sent back to the region. I swear this world gets more surreal every day.)

2003-09-03T12:21:00.000-04:00

beep beep! who got the keys to my Jeep?

Yup, today I had my first driving lesson. No one was harmed.

Actually, I did pretty well. I did freak after I started the car and put it in drive and it moved slightly. I guess I forgot that cars move when you turn them on. I managed to get off my street without incident, and we drove down to Coney Island where the streets are less crowded (though I almost put us on Shore Parkway, which would've ended badly). My left turns were slightly shaky, and my right turns were good. I have a bit of a lead foot, but I'll learn. A driver cut me off at one point, but I didn't lose it (I asked the instructor, which finger do I give him, the right or the left?).

On my first left turn I had an audience: a group of guys on the corner cheering me on (spin the wheel, girl! g'on, you got it!). At the end of the lesson, I had to get back on my street, which meant I had to go up the service road. I impressed the driver by not freaking out at the big intersection, in fact, blazing through the light at a top speed of 30 mph. Which tells you how slow I was going before. I also guided the car around the corner and up the service road without asking how, and without scraping the sides of the cars parked on the corner. The instructor said, "holy shit! You did it!"

I really don't understand how people drive and read the paper, talk on cell phones, curl their hair, etc. There's so much you have to concentrate on. There were bicyclists, people darting out between cars, buses making wide turns. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but it does require focus.

You know I was feeling it after the lesson. I was strutting down the street, rewording the Dolemite theme song:

aww, she's bad! the girl is outta sight!
she's a tough son of a gun, y'all!
unfurnishedbrooklynite!

2003-09-01T13:39:00.000-04:00

Another round of the Interview Game:

1. Leave a comment saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I'll reply and give you five questions to answer.
3. You'll update your LJ or blog with the five questions answered.
4. You'll include this explanation.
5. You ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed. And it just keeps going, and going, and going.

Interview questions from Sukaynah:

1. if you were a song what would you be?
There's a song called "Dancing" by Milton Nascimento (from the Red, Hot and Rio album). No words, his voice becomes another instrument. It's a beautiful song, happy and sad and inspiring all at once. It makes you want to dance, and sit and think. Like me, many things at once.

2. what are you passionate about?
On the serious side, human rights. That's something that seems to be deteriorating worldwide. You'd think the more advanced society becomes, that would improve. It seems to be just the opposite.
On the not so serious side, knitting. It's my only creative outlet, having given up my other pursuits.

3. If money were no object what would be your dream meal?
Moqueca de peixe (seafood stew), served at a restaurant on a beach in Bahia. A pretty simple meal, served in a pretty, simple place.

4. where would you like to go/be right now?
Somewhere in the country, in a big quiet house near a river (there has to be water nearby). The leaves are just starting to turn, its not too cold. And its quiet.

5. if you could have dinner with anyone in the world who would it be?
My mother. Just once more, so I could tell her about her granddaughter.

2003-08-29T21:24:00.000-04:00

Friday Five, y'all.

1. Are you going to school this year?
Man, I'm always in school. I'm like Zonker in Doonesbury: the eternal student. But even he eventually finished, and this year so did I. I may take a third Russian language class, though, but I'm kinda over the running between work, class, and babysitters.

2. If yes, where are you going (high school, college, etc.)? If no, when did you graduate?
Finished a stint at City College, by way of damn near every school in the CUNY system.

3. What are/were your favorite school subjects?
Surprisingly, I rocked out in Calculus, but that wasn't my favorite. I actually likeded Biology, but English were my major. Hee hee.

4. What are/were your least favorite school subjects?
Poetry. Oh, how I used to hate poetry. Probably because I was subjected to so many awful poetry slams and such horrid performance art in the '80s. But thank you Professor Bonaparte, for introducing me to an entirely different world of poetry.

5. Have you ever had a favorite teacher? Why was he/she a favorite?
First, there was Miss George: my kindergarten teacher who was a righteous teacher with a heart as big as her afro, who taught us to love our little brown selves. Then Miss Blaustein in 5th grade who gave me a huge box of new books and the biggest dictionary I'd ever seen outside of a library, who first encouraged my writing.

2003-08-29T00:07:00.000-04:00

Today I finally signed up for driving lessons. Stay off the roads next Wednesday.

I'm ready for summer to be over. Maybe its all the fall yarn in the stores, or maybe I'm tired of sweating like a monkey on meth, but I'm looking forward to a change of season. This summer I didn't get to do many of the things I wanted, so perhaps I just want a do-over.

My list of things to do: learn to drive, get a car, donate/give away/toss out anything I haven't used since I moved into this apartment, start dancing again, find a regular and reliable babysitter.

And get more sleep.

2003-08-27T07:41:00.000-04:00

What happened to my Saturday post???

Monday, at work, they had the air conditioning cranked up to 11. We were freezing. Even with the sweater I keep at my desk, I was cold. Yesterday I had an appointment with the orthodontist at NYU dental center, and it was very, very cold. And I didn't have a sweater (I was knitting one, but that didn't help me). So now, I'm sick. Sore throat, headache, sniffly. I guess my defenses were down and I picked up a bug. Urg.

So, why was I at the orthodontist? Same reason anyone else would go. Braces. Well, that or surgery. That's why I went to NYU instead of to the orthodontist on staff at my regular dentist's office. It's possible I may need surgery to correct my bite. Yesterday the doctor took impressions of my teeth (with a yucky rubbery paste that solidified and nearly yanked all my teeth out), and x-rays, and photos. I know its a teaching facility, but still it was awkward having the other residents either outright staring into my mouth or cruising slowly by, taking a peek.

Its something I should have done when I was a child, but two things stopped us: the cost, and the fact that surgery would entail breaking my jaw and resetting it. So it never happened. But finally its starting to bother me, and having actual insurance, I can get it done. I did pay for yesterday's visit myself, but I'm going mano a mano with the insurance company to recoup that. Or part of it. I wouldn't mind covering some of the cost. Just not all of it.

Durn near all of the Dune sweater is done. I left it alone a few days, but now I'm back to work. I'm starting the right front today, which is the last part. then I can sew it and put some batteries in my digital camera and finally show y'all something I'm working on. I did take a picture of Baby Kitty modeling the Rowan pillow, but can't get it to show up. Next project (and please don't remind me of that smack I was talking about using up my stash) is the Twirl poncho in Big Wool.

I'm gonna be too cute in that.

2003-08-22T23:06:00.000-04:00

Friday Five, y'all.

1. When was the last time you laughed?
At work today a customer blathered on and on and on, but every so often she'd say, "long story short, blah blah blah. Blah blah, long story short, blah blah." Good thing I have a mute button, because I was laughing so hard.

2. Who was the last person you had an argument with?
A customer, of course. When I kept refusing his ridiculous request, he asked me 3 times: why are you being so consistent with me? Finally I went off, but not so bad I'd get hit with a customer mistreat if a manager happened to overhear.

3. Who was the last person you emailed?
Jane at Cucumberpatch. There, I just ratted myself out. Whatevuh.

4. When was the last time you bathed?
Soon as I got home from work/picking up Cheburashka. Humidity+tummy bug+long cab ride. Urg.

5. What was the last thing you ate?
Pasta with olive oil and garlic. I thought the pasta would be mild enough for my tummy, and the garlic to help kill any cooties. I ate post-blackout chicken today. Shoulda known better.....

Today Cheburashka and I both overslept, so I called the driver and told him not to pick her up. We ended up cabbing it to her daycare, and then I kept going to the pre-school I'm thinking of enrolling Cheb in. First, the cab ride: our Russian cab driver was surprised to drop us off at a Russian daycare. He asked, your daughter's Russian? Yeah. Your husband's Russian? Yeah. I'm Russian!! No kidding?? During the drive, he talked about where he's from, how long he's been here, if I speak Russian. I was in a good mood, so I chatted. I asked if he had any children, and he has a 26 year old son. I told him he didn't look old enough to have a child that age. Big mistake.

He turned around and gave me such a look: one that said say the word, baby, and I'll pull this car over and rock your world. I was all, eeewwwww. I've seen that look before. After that, I found something in my purse that required my rapt attention and didn't talk anymore. It was such a creepy feeling; not that I felt unsafe, but just that such an innocent comment would be considered a come-on. I don't know, maybe he thought, well, she is into Russian men...

When I left work, the post-blackout chicken from a usually ok restaurant made me sick. I don't know why it took almost 4 hours to affect me, but... so I ended up taking another cab home. I was 20 minutes late picking up Cheburashka (I'm leaving out a lot about this story, gentle reader). Then, we took another cab home, and yes, I shunned the car service that overcharged me on the day of the blackout and walked several blocks to another one. More Russians. Our driver had the same name as Cheburashka's father (but then, so do 80% of Russian men, har har. Yes, it's Russian-bashing day at Unfurnished Brooklyn!). We picked up a video for Cheb (Russian-owned video store- heh), and stayed in. Which meant I missed the fireworks that I vowed to see this week.

And I'm pissed at how much I had to spend in cab fare today. Cheburashka says we should get a car, a real one, with a key. I'm considering it, but isn't it cheaper to take cabs (leering cabbies aside), than to pay for gas, insurance, car payments, etc? And I'm a Brooklyn girl: ain't that what the MTA is for?? I never thought I'd be a part of car culture, but it may just happen.

Ha. Like anyone would actually give me a driver's license.

2003-08-22T07:07:00.000-04:00

Being a loony-toon, I forgot to post the rules of the Interview Game:

1. Leave a comment saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I'll reply and give you five questions to answer.
3. You'll update your LJ or blog with the five questions answered.
4. You'll include this explanation.
5. You ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed. And it just keeps going, and going, and going.

2003-08-21T21:16:00.000-04:00

Interview questions, courtesy of Redheaddread:

1) How and when did you learn to knit?
My friend Mona taught me the knit and purl stitches (even switching from her left hand to her right so I could figure it out). I then took a class at Gotta Knit. This started when Cheburashka was born; I knew how to crochet and made a navy blue blanket cuz I just knew I was having a boy. But then I wanted to make baby sweaters and I think knitting is better for that.

2) What, if anything, do you regret in your life?
Not being strong enough to insist my mother's wishes be carried out at her funeral. Still a very touchy issue, though its been 7 years. But the fact that I even mention it shows some progress.

3) What does Cheburashka mean?
Cheburashka is a Russian cartoon character. The little one, below:

Been around for many years, very famous. No one knows what he is (a mouse? a bear??), and he pals around with an accordion playing crocodile named Gena. Really cool stop-motion films, they're out on DVD and have subtitles. Anyway, at my Cheburashka's daycare they called her that as a play on her real name.

4) If you could be the child of famous people, who would they be and why?
Can't really think of anyone. I'm trying to remember if, as I child, I ever fantasized about being born to someone famous, and I don't think I ever did.

5) Describe your greatest triumphs, please.
There are lots of small triumphs, but I think a good one to describe is how right after finishing school I took a job as an HIV counselor in a residential drug rehab. Not only did it turn out that the program I was going to follow didn't exist and I had to create one, but it forced me to re-examine my feelings about death. Many of my clients were terminally ill. One in particular ended up in a hospice on Roosevelt Island. There was such an air of death over that place...it was hard visiting him there but since no one else did it fell to me. Because of that job, I no longer fear public speaking, and I'm not afraid of dying.

So- want to be interviewed by me? Let me know in the "comments" area below.

2003-08-20T08:12:00.000-04:00

So, still no news at work. According to the Evil Empire website, talks were postponed because of the power outage. According to the union, the company walked away. Now they're scheduled to resume talks. In the meantime, our 2nd level manager has come up with a six-point disciplinary plan if our contacts with the customers aren't on point. I vegged out after the first two: soft talk, then caution. My brain can't handle Dilbert-speak. Soft talk??

It took two tries to get past the edging on the back of the Dune cardigan: I was doing it on the train, and getting distracted and missing stitches. So I waited for my lunch hour and got it together, now I'm up to the waist shaping. At this rate I'll be seaming by the weekend. I really love this Summer Tweed yarn, as long as I'm not doing cables with it... Oh, and I found a skein of the powder blue at Yarn Connection on 36th Street, so I can finally finish the other sweater. I know it's a different dye lot; maybe I'll rip back a little more and alternate rows so it doesn't look too different. Or maybe I'll buy a parrot and wear it on my shoulder so no one notices the difference in color.

Last night I stayed up late finishing Caucasia by Danzy Senna. I'd been picking at it for weeks, but then, as they say, the plot thickened and I had to finish it. It's about a biracial girl having to pass for white. So now I'm thinking about my own biracial child, and what her life will be like. The book spanned the late '60s to the mid '80s. Different time, different city. Things are not the same, but in some ways they are. I'm always checking people out on the street, especially those I perceive to be biracial. Makes me want to whip out my notepad and my hat with the "press" card on the brim and start interviewing them about their experience.

I have a friend with biracial children, but unfortunately we don't keep up with each other (what's up with that, Aswad?). Some women on the Quilt have biracial children, and occasionally we discuss that. Issues of race haven't really come up yet, but they will, and I need to be prepared for that. A few weeks ago Cheburashka announced she is white. It wasn't a clutch the pearls, get the smelling salts moment. We were talking about language, and in her mind black people speak English, white people speak Russian, and she speaks Russian, therefore, she is white. Simple as that. So I led into a talk about how some people wo are black speak Russian too, reminding her of our meeting with Yelena Khanga. She was all, whatever: I stand by my theory. And went back to playing. I try to teach when I can, but I don't push it past the moment she gets bored; then it becomes a lecture and I hate to be lectured, so why inflict it on her?

The "tween" years aren't that far away, though. Oy.

2003-08-17T21:56:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, and all day today, I had a fever. And a terrible headache. I'm watching the news and they're going on about how the beaches are still closed because of the raw sewage dumped into the water, and they mention symptoms of illness if you've been exposed to it. They include fever and headache. Cheburashka is fine. I wonder if I'm sick because the skeeter bites on my ankles provided a point of entry for bacteria?

Yesterday, I spent most of the day in bed. Cheburashka pretty much had the run of the place. Today I felt bad keeping her cooped up, and her father wasnt going to get her, so I decided to take her to the Bronx Zoo. Ha- like I was well enough for a two hour subway ride with a four year old. After a couple of feverish naps, we went into Manhattan. I needed to pick up some blue Summer Tweed to redo the last sleeve (yeah, I effed up and had to resize the sleeve, then had the nerve to lose the extra skein). Couldn't find any, but Cheburashka picked out some colorful Tahki Baby for herself- she wants a hat. Its a bulky yarn, maybe I'll try teaching her to knit, and we'll make a scarf as well. And despite my yarn-buying ban, I picked up the new Tahki Bunny (2, one grey, one a multi w/ grey), cuz it felt too yummy to let go of. I'll swatch it, and if nothing else, I'll get a hat.

Anyhoo, the Motrin I took before we left was starting to wear off. We went downtown and Cheb fell asleep in the stroller. We were using the cheapo one I picked up in Philadelphia, and it doesn't recline. So I had to 'pop a wheelie' with the stroller, to make the whole damn thing recline so she wouldn't hurt her lolling head. Must have looked weird: a sweating-way-more-than-necessary woman pushing a stroller on it back wheels, trying to beat the approaching storm. I never found the yarn, and Cheburashka woke up just as it began to rain, so we jumped in a cab and went to Union Square for our train. Thanks to the cabbie, his 'off duty' sign was on, and he told me he was two blocks from his garage but picked us up because of the rain. How sweet. Yep, I tipped big.

So I'm feeling better now. I guess I sweated out all the cooties. If I feel crappy tomorrow I'll go to my doctor.

On Wednesday I started the Dune cardigan from Rowan 33 (hell naw, I'm not using the pink from the book. It's in Raffia, all beigey-like). I'm done with the sleeves and I'll cast on for the back before I go to bed. I actually tried to start it before I started the Able sweater, but the pattern confused me. It helps to read blogs by kick-ass knitters who are also stymied by the wording of Rowan patterns; I don't feel like such a goof for not getting it the first time. Once I figured it out, the pattern repeat was so simple I didn't need it to do the second sleeve. And, being stockinette and not moss stitch, its going so much faster. Now I really should have started on the patchwork sweater for my coworker, but I don't wanna. I want to finish the projects for me, and I realize that if I'm not in love with the project, I really don't give a sweet rat's ass whether it gets done or not. I'm sure I'll get it done, but then I'm not doing any requests anymore, unless someone gives me a dollar amount and a time frame and says go for it.

2003-08-16T11:14:00.000-04:00

Blackout 2003!! dun-dun-DUN-DUN! Dah-dah-dah-daaaaaaaah!

Why does everything need a title and a soundtrack? And why did Fox 5's graphic of the Great Blackout of Aught-3 (my name for it, why do the networks get to name it?) show power line over a brightly lit cityscape?? Isn't it supposed to be dark?

Well, there are 8 million blackout stories in the city. Here's mine: I'm at work, its 4pm, and between calls I'm discussing with my coworkers why we shouldn't accept any sold time from management (sidebar: sold time is when there's so few calls that management lets people leave without pay. It hurts us, cuz then they can say, see? we don't need that many workers!). Anyhoo, I get a call, and in mid-sentence, the call ends, my work screens go down but not the computer itself, and half the office floor is in darkness. For a second I'm all, woohoo! No work! But then I realize its something big.

So, after a bit of milling around we realize how far the blackout extends. I'm all, lets go people, but no one wants to leave w/o management approval. Remember, we have no contract: no one's taking chances. Finally, they ok us to leave and we troop down 22 flights. My legs are like noodles when we reach the lobby, but now I have to cross the Brooklyn Bridge. One of my coworkers left with me, the others were dillydallying. So we get onto the bridge, and I suggest we walk with the cars. I can see how crowded the walkway is, and I know that it narrows in the middle and I don't want to get caught in a bottleneck. So we there are, walking on the yellow line between slow-moving cars.

In Brooklyn, cops are directing traffic, and buses are packed tightly. My coworker and I walk over to Joralemon Street and pick up a bus. Any bus, we just want out. We both get seats, but I give mine up to a woman who looks like she's about to drop. After transferring, I make it to Kings Highway. I figured the daycare had the van driver shuttle kids home, so I wasn't worried about Cheburashka's safety. At 7:30, 3 hours after I left work, I find her at Marina's home, eating a huge bowl of ice cream in the dark. She thinks the whole thing's funny: the only light is coming from her shoes. She jumps up and down, lighting up her sandals, and saying "No electrisary! But I have light! Nyah nyah."

I knew if we waited on the bus it would be dark when we got home, so I went to the car service, who kindly charged me $15 for an $8 cab ride. I told them it would be the last time I used them, but got in anyway. On the streets, young thuggish looking guys were directing traffic. People were being courteous at intersections, where normally they'd give each other the finger. At home, we grab a flashlight, and go back on the street to look around and pick up some food. On the avenue the Russian stores that sell hot food have set up shop on the sidewalks, selling food cheaply that might otherwise go to waste. We stocked up, especially on the pastries. By then it was dark, and except for headlights and flashlights, everything was dark. It was like being in the country (except for the elevated train above). And so quiet. We used our flashlight to guide neighbors up the stairs and to their apartments. Cheburashka thought it was so much fun, and she felt so important, telling people to watch their step on the stairs, holding the flashlight at their feet. We lit some candles and had a picnic on the floor, eating Napoleans and shashliki, and listening to the radio. We were both so tired, we conked out soon after.

The next morning, still no "electrisary." We never opened the fridge, so as the eggs were still cold I thought it safe to eat them, and we had that for breakfast. Then we went the beach- hey, the mayor said take the day off, right? We stayed on the sand, Cheburashka making sandcastles, and you know I was knitting. After about an hour we were both too hot, so we went in the water, but only up to my ankles, hopping over waves. After about 15 minutes a lifeguard approaches; she tells me that the water is contaminated and we shouldn't swim. Mind you, I've been there over an hour and this is the first I'm hearing of it (and I was sitting near the lifeguard's chair). There were dozens of people swimming- I bet they didn't know anything about contamination (I later learned the sewage treatment plants weren't working due to the power outage). So we went back to the sand.

On the way home, we stopped at the supermarket. In the back, the workers were having a barbecue with the meat they couldn't sell. The lights had been back on for an hour by the time we left the beach, so I figured we'd pick up some Edensoy, which isn't refrigerated. People were buying dairy, and I'm thinking, don't they know that's probably not safe? This particular supermarket is a little shady to being with, I don't usually shop there anyway. I get home and I try to figured what if anything can be salvaged from the fridge, and I see that Cheburashka turned the fridge down to 1, so the food may have gone bad even without a blackout. I chucked everything. Good thing I didn't go food shopping last Sunday like I'd planned. So now the fridge contains 2 cartons of soy milk and a lemon. And I'm not so sure about that lemon.

Lots of people were caught off guard. But I've had a bag packed since 2001. Y'all know why. So I had a flashlight, snacks, water, and a small radio ready. Didn't have to run around like crazy (I saw lines outside of the stores). I have a cellphone just for emergencies, but this is the second time I had an emergency and the dang thing didn't work. So... why do I keep it? And the situation again underscored how with all our technology, we really are just upright animals that go into fight or flight mode when that technology fails. Few of our precious gadgets were of use. A few days ago I decided to simplify my life: give away anything I haven't worn or used since I moved into this apartment. There's not enough space for all this crap, and I don't even use it all, so why have it? Cheburashka and I had fun sitting in candlelight talking, or hanging out at the beach. I want things to be simple.

And no, I ain't giving up my computer. I'm not talking about living in a yurt, just making things a little more simple and less crowded.

2003-08-08T22:40:00.000-04:00

Every week I say I'm going to take Cheburashka to see the Friday night fireworks on the boardwalk. Every Friday I forget , until I hear them. Like right now. Next week, and I mean it.

I was feeling really hopeless about work today; more harrassment by the managers, another person suspended, and suddenly my manager is doing my appraisal. And she wants me to sign it (that's a first). I didn't, and found a convenient excuse not to: there was one thing left out, and she said she would update it next week. I said, "I'm sorry but its my policy to never sign anything that's unfinished or might be edited later. I'm sure you understand". But the reality is, I'll be goddamned if I do anything even potentially damaging in this climate.

I don't want to jinx it, but I'm hearing things that hint things might be looking up for the union. I'm hoping...

Got the new Rowan magazine in the mail today. Great pictures, and I've got a case of the hotsie-totsies for the cover model, but really only one or two things that I want to make. Which is good, because earlier today I decided to use up at least 50% of my stash before I buy any more yarn.

Hey: it's the Friday Five! Where've you been??

1. What's the last place you traveled to, outside your own home state/country?
I took a little side trip to Philadelphia. Sad, but true: haven't been further than that in a loooooong time.

2. What's the most bizarre/unusual thing that's ever happened to you while traveling?
In the town of Santo Amaro in Brazil, there are no street signs. After attending a music festivals, drunk on capetas, I had to find my way back to the bus station for the trip back to Salvador. Couldn't find it. Wandered around, and then I heard this beautiful voice singing "Loving You" just like Minnie Riperton. Hitting even the highest notes. I followed the voice, and came upon a little old man and his guitar. I just stood and listened for a while. It cleared my head and I eventually found the bus stop. Weird, almost mystical moment.

3. If you could take off to anywhere, money and time being no object, where would you go?
India.

4. Do you prefer traveling by plane, train or car?
Planes fall, trains derail, cars crash. I think I'll go by train, though. I've never taken a long train trip.

5. What's the next place on your list to visit?
Moscow. But if I have time and money, i would like to go to Saint Petersburg as well.

I'm putting this out to the universe, who can help me with:

finding out who does the song that goes, "I'm a little airplane now...wangitty wang, wangitty wang, I'm a little airplane now"?

finding out how to make one of those cute little buttons that people have to link to their blogs?

2003-08-07T21:16:00.000-04:00

Urg. Simply, urg.

Its getting worse at work. The managers are nitpicking, handing out warnings and suspensions for every little thing. Pulling people up for talking on the floor, even when they're on break. We've taken to barricading ourselves in the lounge because its the only place manager-free. The union stewards were running around trying to defend the people getting written up, but there were so many incidents, everyone was running around like crazy.

I'm sure the union leadership has a plan, but I'd wish they'd let me in on it. Monday I was ready to picket; I'd even signed up for extra strike duty. And nothing. It's Thursday, and we still don't know what's going on. Some of the stewards are now saying we may not strike. There's a feeling of disappointment among the reps: we'd been worked into a strike frenzy and then told to sit at our desks. I told a coworker today, if they called a strike right now, I'd walk out the door with my fist in the air, and keep it raised til I got to the subway. Then I'd take my ass home. He felt the same. We're losing our momentum. That ain't good.

More of my surreal life: my favorite pair of flip-flops, black rubber ones from Land's End that I got for free from a coworker, finally broke after 2 years. While I was rushing back to my desk from my break. I had to wait til lunch to go out and get another pair as I (like everyone else) had taken my slippers home cuz I'd thought we'd be out on strike. So, during lunch, i went to Rite-Aid to buy a pair of the sandals I'd ignored for weeks. And of course, the "summer" display was replaced by a "fall" one. Which meant, no sandals, but lots of back to school stuff. I briefly considered strapping a pair of Spongebob knapsacks to my feet. Oh, by the way, my flip-flops were taped to my feet.

So I decided to walk to the shopping area to buy new sandals. I got just past the bridge when the tape gave way. I had to walk with one bare foot back to work. I approached my manager to ask if she could let someone pick up a pair of sandals for me (when a coworker's heel broke recently, she allowed someone to go out for her). She said she'd get back to me. I didn't hear from her again for the rest of the day. And as she had suspended someone today for 5 days, I was glad she did- I didn't want any attention on me.

So what did I do? I took the sock yarn from my bag, and secured my foot to the flip-flop. Then taped the bottom for good measure. Oh, it was sad. But it worked. And to make it look less ridiculous, I strung the other foot up as well. Like, this is the look I'm going for- what? I couldn't go to a shop after work, as I had to catch a certain train or I'd be really late to pick up Cheburashka. So me and my jacked-up flip-flops got on the train. I did catch a few people looking at my feet like, what the...?

There's a 99 cent store outside the subway stop. Of course, today of all days its closed. I pick up Cheburashka, and it starts to rain. The tape loosens, and I'm forced to walk in this sort of diddybop-slide, diddybop-slide all the way to the avenue. Think Gene Wilder in Stir Crazy (yeah! we bad!). Finally we get into a cab and go home. Oh yeah, have to return the video. Diddybop-slide, diddybop-slide.

I've discovered that sock knitting is not for me. I finished the toe, and a couple of inches into the foot (I started yesterday), but it doesn't hold my interest. Maybe I'll make some funky, chunky ones in the winter, but for now the tiny needles and tiny yarn were killing me. On the other hand, I've finally done short-row shaping, and did it very well thank you. I used Wendy's generic toe-up sock pattern. So right now, I have a blue bunion cover. I'm thinking of doubling the yarn and making a cloche for Cheburashka.

I have leftover yarn from the Rowan pillow. I think I'll make a colorful wool hat for Cheburashka (just to hear her sigh and see her eyes roll. Oh, the endless knitwear mother forces upon me!).

2003-08-06T12:33:00.000-04:00

Still no contract.

The union is saying that the reason we're working without one is to a) show the public we're not strike-happy and trying to work something out, and b) we want the company to lose monet. Now, the way they'll lose money is: they've hired many people to do our jobs for us. They've spent millions in recruiting, hiring, and training these people. Even flew people out to Texas to set up a call center. But, since we're working, they still have to pay those people, in addition to paying us for working. However, we're still sitting at our desks, not wanting to take too many trips to the bathroom for fear of getting written up because we're not under contract. Certain protections still apply, but still. Its very stressfull.

And yesterday, when we all stood at our desks as a show of unity, our managers were forced by their manager to walk around with notebooks in their hands, as if they were taking names. Shit, just go down the list and check everyone off, we're all standing. But its just another way to try to intimidate the workers.

I should finish the Rowan pillow today. Only I left the extra yarn home (I'd wound most of it into bobbins), and of course ran out of one color 3 rows from the end. But...since I always keep more than one project in my bag, that means I can start the Sockotta yarn. I'm going to make my first sock. Does this mean I'll be a real knitter? Or do I have to make a sock and a shawl for that honor?

2003-08-03T15:52:00.000-04:00

So, we're working without a contract.

I'm not sure who blinked, but we did not strike after our contract expired last night. The national union leader says that we're making progress and should report to work as a show of good faith. You mean, good faith to the company that laid off its employees unfairly? And that petulantly walked out of negotiations after a judge forced them to hire those employees back? And that has already hired workers under a dummy corporation to do our work if we strike? And that runs ads falsely claiming its workers get 5 week vacations and make more than $80,000 a year? (you'd have to work there 25+ years and do a helluva lot of overtime to make that...)

Look, I know we have it pretty good working there, especially with so many losing their jobs. But the key issue is job security: they want to ship our jobs out of state at a rate of at least 8% yearly. And if you were hired after 1994, see ya. Don't let the door hit ya ass on the way out. And this includes the company's right to say- ooh! The M train was out of service for 1 hour! External event! We need to lay off a few thousand workers! (the company declared the attacks of September 11th an external event that required their laying off hundreds of workers- ironically, many of them the very techs that worker tirelessly, and at risk to their health, to quickly restore service to lower Manhattan) There's also the fact that they want to institute a 4 day work week, with no consecutive days off, and your schedule can change with the 'needs of the business.' So there goes attending school, and it screws with childcare or even just panning any activity beyond a week's notice.

Yep, I'm putting all their business out in the street. I'm pissed.

Nice thoughts, Iris. Nice thoughts...

Me and Cheburashka went to the beach today, since her father couldn't pick her up. I sat in my chair knitting. On the beach. With wool, not even cotton. I've gone to the dark side, people. I joined Rowan after a long period of resistance (I thought it was too pricey, but now that I'm hooked on their yarn, credit card be damned). They sent me a knitting project as a welcome gift: this pillow .
I really love the yarn, and the colors are so distracting (forget the union contract, look at the pretty colors!) I know I should finish seaming the Summer Tweed sweater (why do they call it Summer Tweed? cuz it takes all damn summer to knit! ba-dum boom!)., but I couldn't help it. It's just a pillow dammit. Should only take a day or two!

I'm telling you people: I really have gone to the dark side.

2003-08-02T09:57:00.000-04:00

I could talk about how its been a minute since I last posted, but I have a far more interesting story:

Yesterday instead of wearing the cuffs of my jeans dragging around my heels, I turned them up into 1950's clamdigger length. It was supposed to rain, and I didn't want to get them all muddy. For lunch a group of us went to Jeremy's, which serves up deep-fried denizens of the sea with a side of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. Since it was probably going to be the last day of work for a while, and we were all antsy and more frustrated than usual, we decided to go there, where I don't think they'll let you leave unless you fail a Breathalyzer. My companions ordered mixed drinks and shots; I had a beer. But that beer was huge! It was almost a forty- they should've put a paper bag around it. I paid for it with a $100 bill, and put the change in my left back pocket.

Fast forward to the end of the longest day at work ever: I had to go to Bensonhurst to pick up Cheburashka (long story involving daycare and one of the reasons we're going to strike). I got on the train and picked up my knitting, barely noticing the stock broker-type guy sitting next to me. I didn't notice he'd gotten off the train until the woman who took his seat leaned over and spoke to me. "Is that your id?" she asked. There, lying on the seat next to me, was my state id. Which had been in the same pocket as the $96 change. Uh oh. I thanked the woman, picked up the id, and tried to act all casual as I slid it back into my pocket, feeling for the money. It was gone. I was all smooth as I looked down, trying to see if it was on the seat, or if I'd dropped it on the floor, but it was gone. Then I thought- Mr. Stockbroker-type picked my pocket! And left the id!!

I was so upset. I tried to be all 'ah, well' and keep knitting, but I couldn't. I never lose money, and I haven't been robbed since I was 8. Well, I guess for New York City, I had a pretty good run. But it felt shitty all the same. And then I realized, I didn't have money to pay the woman who was watching Cheburashka. WhenI got off the train, I tried to find an atm, even one of those bootleg ones, but I couldn't. So I had to explain that my money was gone and I'd make it up on Monday. She was cool with it. Cheburashka and I then walked 6 blocks in the rain to wait for the bus home (I'd planned on taking a cab with that money). Also, we would've had our traditional "I wish I would cook on Friday" Chinese take-out festival, but again, no money. Which meant we had to drop off our bags (I was carrying my messenger bag, Cheburashka's knapsack, her bed linens from daycare and the last of my belongings from work), then walk a few blocks to the atm, then back to get dinner.

There was a bootleg atm (not really, but don't the non-bank atms look a little shady?) in the Duane Reade, which save the long walk to the bank. After we got our cash, we stopped in the deli to buy juice for Cheburashka. We were finally headed home, and I'd been traveling for 2 hours and I was tired and grumpy and mad about losing so much cash. There were some teens hanging out in front of the store, and one of them got on his bike and caught up to us, and called out "Hey, miss, your money's falling out!" I'm thinking, damn, what is it with me and money today?? I reached into the back right pocket where I stashed the money from the atm.

"No, not there. Down there." he said, pointing to my feet.

I looked down, and there, stuck in the rolled up left cuff of my jeans, was a wad of cash. $96, to be exact.

2003-07-25T17:05:00.000-04:00

So we all know what happened now at City Hall. A man who worked against violence was shot down. But why are the papers working the gay angle? The shooter had serious issues. Did his sexuality really fit into it?

One month later, still no phone service. And after the storm we had this week, repair is so busy I can't even get through on the company line. I need my phone fixed before the strike, or I won't have one at all. Of course, I could always send a report during strike time and see if a scab shows up to fix it. Or sit w/ my feet up while a manager tries to remember how to fix the line. Ha! Once they see its a striking employee, ain't nooobody coming to fix the phone.

And it really does look like the strike's gonna be long and petty. The company walked out of negotiations when the found out they had to bring back the laid-off workers. And they haven't done a thing to set them back in their posts, yet threaten to fire them if they don't show up. Not one of them knows where to show up to, since their jobs have been reassigned or closed out. Catch-22.

I haven't started the commissioned sweater yet- having too much fun finishing the Summer Tweed sweater.

2003-07-23T15:05:00.000-04:00

So yesterday the weather kept me in during my lunch hour. Today a shooting in City Hall is keeping me in. I don't know the details, but I'm hearing 2 people were shot, and there are 4 helicopters buzzing overhead and the cops are scrambling. I work near Police Plaza and City hall, so the area's on lock down. I really don't like working around here. Too high profile... for a while, no one was allowed out of my building. Hunger prevailed (and security lightened up), so I was able to go across the and get food. They haven't caught the guys- I've seen the metal detectors in front. How did the weapons get in??

Sigh. This is the world we live in now.

So... it seems there's an ad war going on with the Evil Empire and the union. I haven't seen the ads the company is running, but I'm told it states the their workers are paid $80,000 yearly, get 5 weeks vacation, and some other mess. Sure, if you work a hella lotta overtime, and have been here at least 15 years. Puh-leeze. Let's talk about the bonuses in the millions that the execs get. Just for being their sweet selves.

2003-07-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

Well, its been a minute since I've posted...

Update: still no phone service, since 6/24. And I work for the damn company!!! Waited most of the day Sunday for repair, a dispatcher called at 2:00 to tell me I was not scheduled for repair that day. Really? so why are you calling me? do you call people at random to say they're not scheduled for a repair visit?? So I rescheduled (or, scheduled, according to them) for a visit this morning. They came on Monday, and seemed to be surprised that I wasn't there to greet them. And never showed today. And because I listened to them and unplugged my phone, when I put it back in, my dsl conked out. Way to go.

Now, I happen to know that the company is short of technicians. Partly because many were laid off, partly because of retirement, transfers, and just plain leaving. And there's been no movement within the company. Every day I speak to customers complaining that they're waiting in vain for the phone lines to be repaired, but the company (the Evil Empire) hasn't hired more techs. Hey- why not transfer people from the departments you're trying to downsize? Because that would make sense, and we can't have that. But here's the big news: the hundreds of workers that were laid off in December (yep, during the holidays!) in violation of our contract are being rehired. Not because the Evil Empire has seen the error of its ways, but because a judge ruled that they were completely off the hook for pulling the stunt. So everyone's rehired. With back pay. Ha!

Of course, now the executives are tight. So if there was any doubt before that they'd play hardball during the contract negotiations, well, it has been cast aside.

In Cheburashka news: T-minus 2 days to the big 0-4...

Finished the gypsy pillows. Forgot to photograph them before I mailed them off. Ah, well. Picked up the Able sweater in Summer Tweed- I felt ready to tackle that annoying cable again, and I did it! I've gotten up to the neckline, so I'm nearly done w/ the front. I began with the back, and stopped just before the armholes once I realized I needed to do the front first (uh-doy, Iris). But the point is, I'm cooking with gas, baby. I have to: I've got an assignment. A coworker requested a hooded top made from a patchwork of crocheted squares. But, now that I think about it, if you love my knitting so much, why request a crocheted top? Hey, if you're paying, I'm crocheting. Anyway, she has the top, she bought it from a catalog (Spiegel? I forget) and wants one in another color scheme. so I took the measurements from the top & winging it as far as construction.

I was looking for something in my closet and realized that I've purchased a f#$!-load of 1824 Cotton. I bought more cuz I was on a pillow kick after I saw how cool they came out, and I (conveniently) forgot that I'd already bought some to make pullovers for me & Cheburashka. So I've got a shopping bag full. And, in Philadelphia, I bought more Cadiz. That's it. No more yarn. While we're on strike, I've got to clean out my stash. No fall yarn, no matter how much it calls out to me. It'll be easy to resist- having no paycheck and all.

My favorite Celia Cruz song has been in my head for a few days. Solitaria camina la bikina.... She will be missed. What a voice. Once I met her when she played at the club Iwhere I worked. She is the only celebrity ever to turn me into a stuttering idiot- she had such presence.

2003-07-15T17:06:00.000-04:00

My cat ate my mouse.

Really. Ok, she just chewed up the cable connecting the mouse to the computer, so... I have to log on at work.

Let me state for the record: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARIANA!!!! I tried to call, but you had so many b-day wishes I didn't get through. and then I fell asleep.

Lots o' lub.

2003-07-13T18:12:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow I'll write about the trip to Philly. It'll be long, and I'm still recovering.

So, let's talk about my last subway odyssey. Yesterday I decided to go to Knitting Hands to pick up some Mission Falls 1824 Cotton to finish the pillows I'm making. Cheburashka and I get on the train, and some older guy gets on near us, and begins to read the subway map. Cheb is wearing a dress, and keeps putting her feet up on the seat. We're riding about 10 minutes when I realize the man hasn't stopped looking at the map. He's seated, but his body is turned in our direction, and his baseball cap is pulled down over his eyes. At first I thought, maybe I'll ask if he needs directions, but something creeped me out. So I watch him. I pretended to go back to my knitting, but I'm really watching him. And I catch him, peeping at Cheburashka. I didn't know what to do- should I make a scene, alert people there's a perv on the train? Can I really be sure that's what was happening? So I stood up and moved further down the car. I gave him an evil look as I did, but he just looked away. When we got to the other end, I looked over, and he was sitting normally. Hmm, didn't need the map anymore, huh? I wanted to smash his face in w/ the stroller. And I felt bad that I didn't do anything but move. And I'm still wondering if there was something else I could have done.

And when we get to Knitting Hands, they were closed. No sign stating why. What's going on with this store? So we ended up at Downtown Yarns (fortunately that subway ride was uneventful). And I got a tamarindo piragua (tamarindo, mi amor!!!!).

On the way back, we had to change trains (due to the constant construction on my subway line). While waiting to change, I noticed a black woman in a beautiful tie-dyed caftan (never thought I'd say that...) talking to a man in Russian. When the train arrived, we stood near each other. I noticed her smiling at Cheburashka, then I realized who she was: Yelena Khanga. I'd read her book a few years ago, and I've seen her show on Russian tv (when I was living w/ Cheb's father). I started speaking to her, and she found it funny I recognized her from reading the book so long ago. She told me she was watching Cheburashka because her own daughter looks very similar, and she was wondering to her companion if Cheburashka was of Russian descent. Once she found out Cheb speaks Russian, that was it; the two became friends (Cheb ended up in her lap). We did get to talk a little about race and culture in Russia and the US (the on time I've been grateful the train is so damn slow).

2003-07-08T21:38:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the start of my vacation week. I hope it doesn't foreshadow the rest of the week:

I was exactly 3 minutes late bringing Cheburashka downstairs to be picked up by the daycare driver. He wasn't there. I was sure I'd told him to be there Monday and Tuesday, but... maybe he forgot, and thought vacation started Monday. We waited 10 minutes and then walked to the bus stop (mind you, I'm on vacation, so I saw no need to shower immediately upon rising). We just miss two buses; I hate when they come two at a time. This particular line is unreliable, so I figured we'd have to wait 15 minutes for the next one. So we crossed the street and got juice, tea, and a bagel. The bus arrived, we sat near the front, and got to Coney Island Avenue. Now, because of train construction, there's a shuttle bus that has limited stops, and often you don't know it til the driver yells "last stop!" So about 4 people hustled off the shuttle bus and got onto the one I was on. The first two told the driver (a woman) they'd gotten off the shuttle. The third, a woman with her child, didn't say anything, just got on and headed to the back.

The driver called out to her to pay her fare, and the woman sassed her, as if the driver knew she'd gotten off the shuttle. The driver sassed back, and they started screaming back and forth. The driver had just started the bus when the woman called her a dumbass from the back of the bus. The driver began cursing something fierce. Then she threatened to take the whole bus out of service. Then, she got the bright idea to order the woman off the bus. When the woman refused, the driver pulled into the next stop, and got off the bus. She went over to a stoop and just sat there. I'm like, what the hell?? There were some Russian women who didn't quite understand what the fuss was about, and a couple of them offered to pay the woman's fare. We sat there for a few minutes, and I got off the bus. There's always a dispatcher near the end of the shuttle, so I was going to report her. If I was on my way to work, I'd have been royally pissed.

I found the dispatcher and told him there was a problem on the bus.
He:What bus line? You want the 68? It stops right here.
Me: No, I just got off the bus. There's a problem, see that bus just sitting there at the next stop?
He: Are you talking about the MTA?
Me: (making a show of looking at the big MTA logo on his shirt) Yes, don't you work for the MTA?
He: Yes. And that bus- is it an MTA bus?

Finally I made it clear to him that yes, it was an MTA bus since no other bus lines run on that street. And I told him what happened. And after he said "I'll check it out" and just stood there motionless, I told him I would stand there til he did something. He sighed and started walking toward the bus (which still hadn't moved). Now, I know times are hard, and I'm not trying to make a sister lose her job, but that was really ridiculous. Especially since the driver, while she was right about not being told she was transferring, shouldn't have escalated the situation by constantly ranting and cursing (even after the woman and her child were seated). I should also mention that I have been on the bus before with that driver, and she treats everybody like crap.

Anyway, Cheburashka and I got on the train. It was 7:57, and I left at 7:15. And I'd only gotten about 10 blocks from my home. We got off the train and were about a block away from the daycare when I hear a horn honk at me. It was the daycare driver. He yelled "get in car!" and we got in. Turns out he had been at my home, and waited only two minutes before he left. Thanks, pal. He had called my home phone, but that isn't working, so I gave him my cell phone. Today, 4 minutes before our appointed time, he calls me on the cell phone to see if I'm coming down. I was in the lobby, and still had the cell phone in my hand as I walked to the van. Geez.

Ok, so the real vacation starts tomorrow. We're going to Philadelphia and thereabouts. Oh, please let this go smoothly! I haven't had a vacation in years.

Knitting news: I finished the Bob sweater last week, and I love it. I want more Jaeger Cadiz, but on eBay all I can find is green. I have green- don't they make it in other colors? I'm still working on the Katia t-shirt for Cheburashka. And I've started some pillows in Mission Falls 1824 Cotton: I'm making 4, and I've got 3 fronts done and half of one back. But I ran out of black yarn, so I need to pick up some more. But that will happen when I get back, unless quite by accident I stumble upon a yarn shop in Philadelphia...heh heh heh. I can see Cheburashka rolling her eyes already: more yarn?? Sigh.

2003-07-01T20:41:00.000-04:00

I'm going to completely gloss over the fact I haven't posted in a while.

So, this past Friday night Cheburashka had a stomach virus. And the next day, I had it. So we were both just laying around the apartment on Saturday. Something is seriously wrong w/ my phone- no dial tone, just static and I could hear the tv playing through the handset. And my cell phone decided to go out as well. So we couldn't call out or get any messages.

So there we were. Sunday I felt even worse, but Cheburashka was fine. Her father picks her up on Sundays, so I was looking forward to going into a mild coma while they were out and about. But he never showed. Finally, around 3pm, I crawled down to use a pay phone and check my messages. He'd been calling, leaving messages that his work schedule had changed so he couldn't pick up Cheburashka. Great.

I had to tell her he wasn't coming, but the minute I saw that pout start to form, I blurted out, "but we're going to the beach!" I don't know where that came from, but it seemed the right thing to say. We went upstairs, changed into our bathing suits, and walked to the beach. Cheburashka frolicked in the sand; I lay on the blanket clutching my crackers and warm ginger ale, sick as a dog.

Why? Because that's what mommies do.

Last night, I actually got to go out into the world of people. I left Cheburashka w/ her father (they stayed in my apartment), while I went to the Bowery Ballroom to see Donnie. It was the first non-free-in-the-park concert I've seen in years. And well worth it. A couple of weeks ago one of my co-workers brought in the cd "The Colored Section," and it hasn't left my cd player since. And when I heard he was playing in NYC, I had to go. Sure, it was 10pm on a Monday night, but that actually worked in my favor because Cheburashka's father is off that night. The show was amazing; Donnie's music is incredible. And he's playing in Prospect Park in August. I'll be there.

2003-06-21T09:36:00.000-04:00

The friday Five, on Saturday

1. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?
Nappy. and that makes me happy.

2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime?
I'm going to gloss over the thankfully brief jheri curl period, and say its always been the same texture, sometimes braided, the occasional hotcomb attack by my godmother, and for the last 15 years, locs or a short natural.

3. How do your normally wear your hair?
Locs. I cut them twice: shortened them from waist-length to shoulder-length about a year after Cheburashka was born, then cut them off completely a few months later. Now I'm back to locs.

4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?
I did like my hair in its natural state, when I'd sleep in twists and loosen them for a wild curly 'fro. I've been thinking about doing that again (after my hair finally locked).

5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?
Getting my hair cut at Astor Place barber shop. The plan was a typical '80's new wave bob. The result? the city's first high top fade. Really high, my hair was quite long. No one had fades back then, so people were like, wtf? I went home (freezing, I didn't have a hat to protect my head), and experimented w/ my sister's curl activator til I got something I could show up in school with.

2003-06-19T11:03:00.000-04:00

Whoa- where have I been?

Haven't really been online much this past week. Most days I've just wanted to flop on the couch and knit and goof around with Cheburashka. And those are things I do very well.

I temporarily scrapped the mini-Janda for Cheburashka. I'd completed the front back and both sleeves, but when I sewed on the sleeves, something was way off. Probably my measurements, since I was adjusting a pattern for adults. That's what I get for being half-assed about it. I picked up the Bob again, and I'm almost to the armholes. I love knitting in the round- I hate seaming. And I really like the yarn: Jaeger Cadiz. Might get some more if I find it on eBay again (isn't this yarn discontinued? or just certain colors?).

But...I really shouldn't buy any yarn for a while. Strike time's coming up, and we're all getting the feeling its going to be a long one. I've been stashing cash since the last strike, so I'm not too worried if its only a month or two, but if its a big one, well, I guess I'll finally clear out my yarn stash. And the Evil Empire merged with another telecom that is notoriously anti-union, so it won't be pretty.

But there will be lots of downtime for knitting. If you're watching NY1 and you see someone knitting on the picket line, that's me.

Bad mommy alert: while I usually try to watch my language around Cheburashka, something slipped. Yesterday while walking through the underpass of the subway, she yelled "oh my shit!" And it echoed. She's picked up 'oh my god' from me, and caught me during an 'oh shit' moment and she decided to combine them. Points for creativity, but... Gotta watch my potty mouth.

2003-06-13T19:38:00.000-04:00

The Friday Five

1. What's one thing you've always wanted to do, but never have?
Fly a helicopter. My brother flew helicopters in the Army and I was so jealous. I kinda gave up on it for a long time but I've been thinking of it recently.

2. When someone asks your opinion about a new haircut/outfit/etc, are you always honest?
Usually, but you can be honest without hurting someones feelings. Instead of saying, ye gods, that haircut is hideous! you can make it clear that while you don't exactly like it, there are ways to improve/fix it.

3. Have you ever found out something about a friend and then wished you hadn't? What happened?
I can't think of any situation like this. My friends and I usually are quite open with each other.

4. If you could live in any fictional world (from a book/movie/game/etc.) which would it be and why?
I'd live in Bikini Bottom with Spongebob Squarepants and eat Krabby Patties all day long.

5. What's one talent/skill you don't have but always wanted?
To ice skate. I can roller skate, but I've never tried ice skating. Looks real cool, but real hard. It doesn't help that in high school a friend had an ice skating accident: he fell and someone skated over his face. Wasn't pretty. Made me not want to try.

2003-06-12T09:30:00.000-04:00

Today Cheburashka and I celebrate our 36th birthday.

I say our, because she was highly upset when I told it its just my birthday. She insisted that it was hers. So I said, hey! Guess what? It's your birthday and mine!! She accepted that; however, she took exception to the way I pronounced 36. It's not thirty-six, we are three-six today. I suggested that maybe we have a birthday cake to celebrate (she's been asking for weeks for a cake w/ a candle). She got quite excited about that, and ran to the fridge to find a cake. I told her we'd have to wait til we get home (in my mind, that meant after I brought her home from daycare). Her reply? "I'm home now."

Can't argue with that.

So, I'm three-six today. Thirty wasn't bad: I'd recently come back from a solo trip to another country and I was feeling quite fabulous, thank you. I didn't have my own apartment but I didn't have a kid so what did I care? I was thinking, maybe that will be my career: professional world traveler. But that didn't quite pan out. But at 30 I realized, hey, I've done much of what I'd set out to do (other than have a kid, but having tried, I thought I wasn't able to). Now, I'm taking on a new phase: raising Cheburashka by myself, trying to leave the Evil Empire and find a new career (or at least a job I don't hate), and my next goal: buy a home. In New York? I don't know. I can't even escape from Brooklyn- I always gravitate back to where I was born and raised (and I've lived in several different sections of Brooklyn)- so how can I just pack up and move to another state? Then there's the matter of Cheburashka's father. Can't wait to bring that up with him. Since I've renewed my lease for two years, I guess I have time to think about that.

But for now, let me celebrate being three-six. Or Sweet 16+20. It's all good.

Woot woot!!

2003-06-10T21:13:00.000-04:00

After a lovely visit to the orthodontist, I indulged in a little retail therapy. I went up to The Yarn Company. I've been to nearly all the yarn shops in NYC (one I'm deliberating avoiding because of the serious bad rep it has, and one I haven't been to because its closed on Mondays, which is the only time I seem to think of it!). Anyhoo, uptown I went.

Man. Did I luck out. I've been checking out Berroco Denim Silk for a while, and the price put me off. Yarn Co. sold it at a 30% discount. Same with Mission Falls: guess who'll be making a green version of the Janda soon? There was actually a lot of yarn on sale, so I showed a lot of restraint. I wonder which project will get kicked to the curb so I can make a poncho out of the Denim Silk (in 3 shades of brown)?

I'm considering this an early birthday present to myself. Not too early though, cuz its coming up soooooooooon.

2003-06-08T20:31:00.000-04:00

Not only did I finish my Janda sweater/pullover/hoodie/thing, but I started on for Cheburashka! I got almost to the armhole on the back. I'm still figuring out a pattern, since the one from Knitty is for women's sizes. Instead of charting it out first, I'm knitting first, asking questions later. The only thing I'm not happy about on my sweater, though, is the length. I made it a little longer than the pattern called for, by an inch, and it just hits my hip. I'm not all that tall, but I really hate the Britney Spears cropped top look.

Friday I picked Cheburashka up early and we went to the boardwalk. I knew another rainy weekend was coming, and since Friday was actually nice, I wanted some beach time. She played in the sand while I just stared at the water. The next day, of course, it poured all day long. We took a long bus ride to Bay Ridge and went to see 'Finding Nemo.' It was during the 30-minute-each-way bus ride that I did the back of Cheburashka's sweater. It was the first time Cheb had gone to a movie. We binged on a megabucket of popcorn (and brought in our own juices- I don't need a washtub of Coca-cola, thank you). She was more interested in the projection booth than the movie. She got a little scared at some parts, covering her eyes with my hand. A little girl in the seat next to us lost it at one point, and her parents had to leave with her. I really liked it because a) I haven't gone to a movie in ages, and b) it was funny. I think the adults were laughing more than the kids.

We sloshed through the rain back to the bus. When we got home, I said the heck w/ the umbrellas and we stomped thru the puddles. I guess if we're going to have nothing but rain for the rest of the summer (no hope left for sunshine), then let's have fun with it.

I'm still figuring out color combinations for the blog. So if it looks different day to day, I'm still learning how to do this. Maybe I'll even post pictures of my recently completed projects.

2003-06-06T08:31:00.000-04:00

BLUE

You give your love and friendship unconditionaly. You enjoy long, thoughful conversations rich in philosophy and spirituality. You are very loyal and intuitive.

Find out your color at Stvlive.com!

Odd, blue has become my color of choice. Everything I buy is blue. Most of the yarn I've purchased recently is blue. A stranger remarked that I must really like blue. I realized I was covered head to toe in it, and knitting with blue yarn.

I can find an Expo quote for pretty much everything in life. Here's one now: "I don't know what color it is. All I know is it's blue."

2003-06-05T09:28:00.000-04:00

Bringing Cheburashka home from daycare. She tears down the avenue. I call out her name. Five people turn around.

Cheburashka told me yesterday her feet hurt. We stopped by the shoe store to measure her feet. They've grown again. Baby needs a new pair of shoes.

2003-06-05T09:24:00.000-04:00

I'm on the last sleeve of the Janda sweater. I am loving this project- goes quickly, and the 1824 Cotton feels soooo good, I'm never gonna take it off once I finish it. Maybe during my travels today (dr's appointment), I'll pick up some more for Cheburashka. And maybe more for me. If all goes well, I'll be wearing it this weekend. In the house, probably, since it will likely RAIN RAIN RAIN all frickin' weekend. Should I be buidling an ark?

And what has happened to my child? Maybe its the gloomy weather, but she has become quite contrary. Actually, openly defiant is a better description. All I've heard from her the past two days is No! Never! Nothing!! Last night, she knocked all her toys off the table with a dramatic sweep of her arm, and hurled a shoe at me, then folded her arms, looked me dead in the eye and announced she would not stand in the corner. Fine, I said. Do what you like. I picked up my needles and started knitting (partially to make her think I wasn't fazed by her rampage, partially to give myself a time out). After a moment, she said, "ok, I'll stand in the corner, that wasn't nice." She walked to the corner, stood for a millisecond, then came back and said "I'm ready to be nice." So we cleaned up the mess together and she helped me make dinner.

I thought it was over, but this morning she announced, "No hug! No kiss! Don't look at me!" Fine, I told her. I'll give your kiss to the teddy bear. And she relented. She was in a good mood when the driver picked her up to take her to daycare. We'll see when she gets home. I'm blaming the weather for this.

2003-06-04T09:31:00.000-04:00

From the good people at This or That

1. Cats or dogs?
Cats, I guess. There's a headline from The Onion: "Like boxes of shit in your house? Get a cat!"
2. Butterflies or birds?
Butterflies. They're free, you know.
3. Horses or cows?
Horses! Even though one bit me one the head when I was a kid. And once, while riding one, my saddle slid and I was hanging off the side...still love'em.
4. Turtles or snakes?
Turtles! I even made a pilgrimage to a turtle sanctuary in Bahia.
5. Frogs or grasshoppers?
Frogs. One of my best friends is one. Hi, Frida!!
6. Lions or tigers?
Tigers. I was crazy for them as a kid. Lived across the street from an Exxon station, made my mother get every promotional thing they ever made. I can't wait to go to Tiger Mountain! Grrr!!
7. Elephants or mice?
Elephants. There was a bit of unpleasantness involving mice in my apartment recently. That's how I ended up with Baby Kitty.
8. Porcupines or aardvarks?
Porcupines. I don't know why. Maybe because I like saying porcupine.
9. Unicorns or dragons?
Dragons kick ass, so I'd say dragons. But did anyone see the amazing uni-goat Ringling Brothers trotted out a few years ago? Me neither.
10. Thought-provoking question of the week: You live in a rather dumpy apartment. A friend offers you a chance to be a roommate at a new place s/he is moving into, but they don't allow pets. You have a pet. Do you find your pet a new home and take the new place, or do you keep your pet and stay put?
Been there...but it was more: homeless or petless? But in the above situation, I'd keep the pet. Dumpiness can be changed.

2003-05-30T21:05:00.000-04:00

The Friday Five returns
1. What do you most want to be remembered for?
My resilience.

2. What quotation best fits your outlook on life?
I don't know. I'm tempted to say "no good deed goes unpunished" but that may just be because of my day at work.

3. What single achievement are you most proud of in the past year?
Leaving that guy I married and getting my own place. Long overdue. And I did it while working and going to college. I rock!

4. What about the past ten years?
Giving birth to my daughter. I look at her and I see a bright, funny, caring individual. And I have to wonder how I did it despite all the crap I've been through in the past few years.

5. If you were asked to give a child a single piece of advice to guide them through life, what would you say?
Don't do anything that doesn't feel right to you. Trust your instincts.

2003-05-29T23:58:00.000-04:00

So I skipped ahead and started on the Janda sweatshirt. The Able sweater was giving me fits: I'd gotten almost to the armhole when I noticed that something just wasn't right Turns out I dropped a stitch about 6 inches back, and did something weird at the cable to correct it (and didn't even realize that I did it). So I ripped out all those rows, on the subway, and halfheartedly did a few rows on the way home. The next day I pulled out the Mission Falls cotton. And its really going fast- I finished the back and I'm a few rows away from the armhole on the front. I really like this yarn- goes quickly, even on bamboo needles, and really soft. I will definitely make one for Cheburashka.

Sunday I met with my Russian teacher and a student, and we went on a tour of my own neighborhood. It was supposed to be the entire class, but a few people got lost, or just couldn't make it. I brought Cheburashka with me, and she and the instructor did most of the talking. I was just happy to find an excuse to go to yet another restaurant in the nabe. But the big question- do I feel confident enough to speak Russian with just anyone? No. I'm a language wuss. Just like when I learned Portuguese, I refused to speak it until I absolutely had to (or unless alcohol was involved- it really loosens your tongue). Cheburashka likes to play Krasnaya Shapochka (Red Riding Hood- I get to be babushka), so I get to practice with her sometimes. Since classes won't start again until fall, I really better stay on top of it.

Oh, and I gave up sugar, especially chocolate, this week. The withdrawal is killing me.

2003-05-24T11:56:00.000-04:00

I can't turn my back for one minute, part 12

Cheburashka is now in the tub, washing off the pomegranate sauce. First, let me say my computer is next to the bathroom in my tiny apartment, we're eyeballing each other, so please do not contact child protective services. She is not unsupervised. Now, about the sauce: for some reason, possibly the same one that caused her to paint her body with glittery nail polish, she opened the container of chicken in pomegranate sauce that I made (which was delish, I must say), and covered herself with it while I was checking out Mama's Quilt. I hadn't been on it in a while, so I was catching up and didn't noticed. Ok, I did, but I didn't mind if she fixed herself a little snack. Look, I need some time to myself, don't I?

But I'm stalling. I need to get out and go to the supermarket, but I am just not feeling it. Yes, pomegranate syrup is on my shopping list, as I am now out. I hate food shopping. And clothes shopping.

Okay, Cheburashka has just announced she is clean. Moment to myself is officially over.

2003-05-21T11:01:00.000-04:00

I am so tirred. With 2 r's.

Cheburashka was tossing and turning all night, which of course kept me up. In the morning I found out why: she woke up and got hold of the sparkly purple kiddie nail polish I bought her (at her request- I don't particularly like girly things). She took off her jammies and painted herself from head to toe. Why? Why???? It took an hour this morning to wash it off. Even though its supposed to peel off nails, it really adheres to skin. I guess I should be thankful she didn't get any in her hair.

When I finally got to sleep for a stretch (Cheburashka had stopped fiddling), I had a nightmare that woke me up: I was in Iraq as part of a volunteer group providing social services. Cheburashka was with me. The place was in bad shape, and we were in a market trying to get people to come to our site. Suddenly we were attacked- stones were thrown at us. I thought, wow, that really hurts. Very effective weapon. I was separated from my daughter, but I saw her being carried off by another of the workers. I ducked into a stall covered with a blue blanket, and saw a young boy (orphaned- funny how in dreams you get the whole backstory) running, trying to find shelter. I grabbed him and brought him under the tarp with me. When the ruckus stopped, I tried to find my daughter, and was told the worker had sold her to a warlord! I was running around trying to find her, crying my eyes out. It was so horrible I woke up.

Any ideas on what that's all about? Could it be because I want to leave my cushy albeit hellish job to return to social work and lose the $$ and benefits I now have for an uncertain future? Though, I could be laid off this year, isn't that uncertain?

2003-05-19T20:57:00.000-04:00

I've been snarfy all week. A reoccurence of the throat infection I had last month, and allergies. Which occur mostly at work. I looked behind my computer monitor on my desk and discovered a dust wasteland. Tomorrow I'm going to clean it (doesn't the company pay people to clean??), and see if that helps. I hate that all of the customers I speak with comment on my stuffiness.

Cheburashka had a Mother's Day show at her daycare, delayed a few days this year because the director was in Russia. Everything was in Russian, I just sat there smiling and nodding, understanding maybe every 5th or 6th word. The kids sang songs, recited poems, and did a couple of dances. One of the two songs in English, "Rain Rain Go Away" really cracked me up because the kids would shout out the main part, then mumble the rest. RAIN RAIN GO AWAY, COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY, mumble mumble mumble mumble, RAIN RAIN GO AWAY!

Flashback to my junior high school graduation: some nutcase decided to have us sing Battle Hymn of the Republic. We couldn't be bothered to learn all the words. The first verse everyone knew, but the second one went: mumble mumble mumble la lala mumble mumble HIS TRUTH IS MARCHING ON!!!!!

Back to the show: one of the cool things about this daycare is twice weekly they teach music and dance. The kids learned 3 short dances for the show: one a gypsy dance (boys with tambourines, girls swirling multicolored skirts), a jewish wedding dance (my guess- the boys put on yarmulkes and they danced separately to rollicking music), and the last- well, I can only describe it as what you'd see at a Russian cabaret after all the customers have had too much to drink and storm the stage. Imagine that with 4 year olds.A Filip Kirkorov song came on, the girls ran out and posed on the chairs (arm raised high, leg up on the chair), and the boys did their Brighton Beach meets Tony Manero dance. At one point the girls stood atop the chairs waving their arms. I'm like nooo! I knew someone would fall off- but no, these are professionals! The dance teacher cracked me up, barking orders from the side, at one point rolling his eyes when a kid lost his place (to be fair, he turned his back, not letting the kids see his expression). But the kids looked like they were having a great time. Cheburashka even threw in a shoulder shimmy at one point (I bet I have Mona to thank for that move). Way too cute.

So I'm chugging along on the Summer Tweed sweater- this one, in blue. It has a cable pattern that I wasn't sure I could figure out, so I went online to see what others have come up with. Turns out I'm not the only one. A few people in the Rowan discussion boards mention that the yarn has a tendency to break while making a cable. I knew it was easy to break, as I discovered when I didn't have a scissor handy and needed to break the yarn on a swatch. But it hasn't happened while knitting the cable pattern on teh front of sweater. But now that I know it can, it will. That's how it works.

Seaport Yarn, which is too damn close to my job, is having a sale. So I went, after swearing I wasn't going to buy any yarn for a while. And did I buy any sale yarn? No. I bought some Mission Falls 1824 Cotton to make this. Maybe I'll even make one for Cheburashka. Now, I don't go for that matching mother-daughter look, but I have noticed that we have a few similar items. I gotta watch out for that. But I think it would make a nice coverup for evenings on the boardwalk.

2003-05-14T20:27:00.000-04:00

Where, oh where have I been?
I dunno. I tend to disappear occasionally. Haven't been online much, checking email once in a while, not much else. I was feeling pretty crappy: I've been having hypoglycemic episodes back to back, after not having them for months. And my body decided it wants in on the action, so now I'm allergic to things. What, I don't know, but I've been snarfy and itchy-eyed for a few days.
Never, ever take Benadryl. It's the devil's medicine. Sure the high's cool, but the crash is a bummer.

Mother's day? Feh. I haven't had a Hallmark Mother's Day ever. And I'm not so sure I want one. I don't go for that stuff. But Cheburashka and I made a huge breakfast: turkey bacon, omelets, and pancakes. Her father picked her up at the usual time and I got to clean my apartment. Joy. His only acknowledgment was to ask Cheburashka if she said 'Happy Mother's Day' to me. That is a major improvement- even though he stole that move from me. Last year I pulled the same thing on Father's Day. I got a few phone calls, and then I called my godmother, who I hadn't seen in a while. She wasn't feeling up to going to church. I wish I'd known, I'd've gone to see her. But I thought I might end up going to church with her, and I wasn't up to spending aaaallllll day there. I'm going to visit her next Saturday. She's getting up there age-wise,and with my mom gone, she's my mama-figure.

Knitting: I finished a sweater in olive-and-russet Debbie Bliss wool/cotton for one of the mamas on the quilt. Her son turned one last week, and as with everything else, I'm sending it out late. The Prism jacket needs one and a half sleeves and then I'm finished. I've even woven in the ends in the body, just to have done with it. I'm making progress on the "Able" sweater from the latest Rowan magazine. And why did moss stitch in Prism go agonizing slow while in Summer Tweed it goes so quickly? What the hell am I talking about??

Yet more proof that I need to get the hell out of the Evil Empire: we're having "diversity week" and the different sections are decorating our cells, er, cubicles with items from various countries. My only contribution was to choose Iraq as my section's country, an idea which surprisingly wasn't immediately rejected, but we ended up with India. Think of India...now erase all those images from your mind. We're going to "never paid attention in public school" India. Okay, cutouts of elephants, not bad. Sand dunes...well, yeah. Flying carpets? Belly dancers?? I was walking around trying to explain what was part of Indian culture and what was clearly not. I'm no expert, but I'm fairly sure Ali Baba did not live in the Taj Mahal. Yes, that name came up. And then there was the woman drawing an image on a 'flying carpet' cutout. I stupidly asked, "what's that?" and was informed- I fucking kid you not- that it was "one of those Tibetan two-eye things with the question mark in the middle." And- yes, it gets worse- not one, but two adult human beings did the indian war whoop/hand over mouth thing when informed we were representing India.

And you wonder why I disappeared for a week. My spirit was in a coma.

2003-05-05T00:09:00.000-04:00

I was going to write about my humbling trip to the dentist, and returning home with a face full of Novocaine (or what ever dentists use) and running into someone I really didn't want to see while drooling out of my numb face and then having a full-on hypoglycemic episode, but it doesn't matter.

Because after I gave my daughter a bath, she told me a story (highly animated, with about 20 subplots, and a cast of thousands). I then oiled and twisted her hair so that tomorrow she could wear "curly hair" to daycare - none of those toddler pigtails for her. She insisted I rub her back as she fell asleep, and she looked so sweet drifting off. As I watched her, I began to realize how much she's grown- physically and emotionally, and how independent and opinionated she's become. And while I have my crappy days, I'm doing all right.

An early Mother's Day gift: realizing that I just may be getting the hang of it.

2003-05-03T11:40:00.000-04:00

I was soooo tired yesterday I didn't post the Friday Five questions I answered. So it's now the Saturday Morning Five:

1. Name one song you hate to admit you like.
Precious and Few. I've been living with the shame since I was a child- but now it can be told!
2. Name two songs that always make you cry.
I don't know the real name of it, but I think its called You're The Reason Why I Sing. The other is So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.
3. Name three songs that turn you on.
Preciso de Voce, Louco por Voce, and Bom Dia(do you detect a pattern here?).
4. Name four songs that always make you feel good.
Tuesday Heartbreak, Enedeia, Toda Menina Bahiana, and Church of the Poison Mind.
5. Name five songs you couldn't ever do without.
I can't pick five. Let's just say Songs In The Key of Life and leave it at that.

2003-04-28T23:04:00.000-04:00

Strange things happen...this morning I went to work, unusually chipper for a Monday morning.Maybe because I've started doing yoga again as soon as I wake, but I'm losing track of the story. So, I go to work, things are fairly normal, I'm hungry at 12:30, thinking about what to eat, drooling over the Calmer and Cadiz yarn I got in the mail from Jannette....focus, Iris.

Ok, about 12:30, I notice that some of my coworkers are moving over to my side of the floor. All of them. I didn't pay attention at first, kept taking calls, but then I heard someone say, should we be here? Shouldn't we leave? Finally, between calls, I ask someone what's going on: it seems someone opened a letter from a customer and white powder fell out of the envelope. The police were called, and they brought a hazmat crew. Now, I always thought (and we can thank television for this) that in such situations, the ceiling panels would open and men in black would rappel down yelling hut hut hut! But no, it was rather dull. A manager came over and asked that all of us move to the south side of the floor, which is separated by fire doors. I gathered my things because I knew I was leaving. Even if it turned out to be sugar from a jelly donut.

There was a lot of confusion and anger; mostly because there seems to be no protocol for these situations. What the hell did we go through all those post-9/11 evacuation drills for? No one knew what to do. It was maybe 15 minutes from the time the envelope was opened until I realized something was going on. And then another 20 minutes before I decided I should leave. The union stewards told us that if we did not feel safe, we should leave. Which wasn't all that simple, because the elevators would not open on our floor. The hazmat crew saw to that. So a bunch of us walked down a flight and took an elevator down. On the way to the stairs, we passed two men in spacesuits holding a baggy containing the envelope.

Now, on our floor, things were fairly quiet. When we left the building, there were 3 fire engines, a hazmat truck, and two ambulances. Everyone who had left the building for lunch had to remain outside- no one was allowed back in. And its a very large building, so there were quite a few people there, looking really confused.

It didn't feel serious until I saw all the emergency personnel outside. Then I began to think, that was jelly donut sugar, right?

2003-04-25T19:53:00.000-04:00

Friday Five, baby:

1. What was the last TV show you watched?
I fell asleep after watching The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

2. What was the last thing you complained about?
I'm always complaining. At least I think so... anyhoo, the last thing I complained about was the MTA and their fare hike and closing of token booths. What a freaking mess.

3. Who was the last person you complimented and what did you say?
Today Cheburashka's daycare closed early, and one of the mother's called my cell to offer to pick her up for me. I didn't need her to, but when I got to the daycare I told her how nice it was for her to think of me and offer to do that. Especially since we only recently met (she had stepped in earlier in the week when my other pickup arrangements fell through).

4. What was the last thing you threw away?
I went through Cheburashka's old clothes, and threw out the ones that had holes and stains. The rest I'm giving away.

5. What was the last website (besides this one) that you visited?
My bank's website. It's bill paying time.

While I'm typing this, I'm watching Cheburashka. She's just wearing her striped pants, pulled up to her chest. She looks like a turn-of-the-century strongman. All she needs is a handlebar moustache. No- she's Zampano, from La Strada!

2003-04-24T22:03:00.000-04:00

Today I took Cheburashka back to the dentist. Her father wasn't able to go, so I had to go in with her. A block away from the office, I mentioned to her that we were going to the dentist, and the howling began. With tears. When we got to the waiting room, she was distracted by Shrek playing on the vcr and all the toys. But when the nurse called her name, her little face just fell.

They had to drill. But first they had to numb her, so three of us held her down (amazing how strong toddlers are when they're totally freaked out) while the dentist gave her a shot with the biggest needle in the world. What was really odd was the big, scissorlike clamp he put in her mouth to keep it open. I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing the right thing by getting her tooth fixed, but looking into her eyes, and hearing her cry so hard that she began to hiccup, was too much. The dentist and his assistant were both very cool, talking to Cheburashka in Russian, and being really kind (even reassuring me- I must have looked freaked out myself). He worked very quickly, explaining to Cheburashka what he was doing, assuring her she was being very good and brave. When he was done, he sat her up and instantly the crying stopped. Once he said that's it, she turned off the waterworks. And I'm like, hey- don't I get to do my mommy thing? Don't I get to scoop you up in my arms, racing you out of the office screaming, I'll save you! Mommy's here!!! No. Merely sitting up seemed to do the trick. Ah, well.

So the "one kntting project at a time" thing is truly dead. I started a cardigan in D. Bliss wool/cotton, which will be a 1st birthday gift for one of the Mamas. Well, for her son, anyway.But I figure it should only set my Prism jacket back a week: I've already finished the back and left front, and half of the right front. The next projects are: 2 summer tweed sweaters (blue pullover, beige cardigan), then a top in red Calmer (I never wear red- where'd that come from?), then a pullover in cotton tape, and a poncho in all-seasons cotton. I'm all Rowaned out. What's up with that??

2003-04-22T23:52:00.000-04:00

So I said I wouldn't do any other knitting projects til I finished the Prism jacket. Ha. I finally got around to cleaning my closet, and waaaay in the back I found a bag with forgotten projects. Only two: a cabled poncho made of grey Patons wool, and a colorful fair isle (um, isn't fair isle inherently colorful??) smock for Cheburashka, made with Lion microfiber. I didn't know why it was stuffed so far in the back of my closet, but typing this now, I realize why: I was working on both projects in September of 2001.

My knitting projects, the bag I carried, even the clothes I wore that day, I've buried deep in my closet. Can't throw it away, can't bring myself to wear or use them ever again. Now that I realize this, I don't even want to finish them. Its like they're bad luck. And man, I really got a lot done today on the smock. Back then, my fair isle technique was really bad. I've much improved, so it looks pretty good; I even finished the back.But now that I remember why I stopped in the first place... And besides- Cheburashka's grown a lot. It probably won't even fit. Of course, I could always donate it to charity if I do finish it.

Maybe I picked the projects up again because I'm finally ready to put all this behind me.

Yesterday I got a letter in the mail from my company: a buyout offer. They want another round of layoffs, but they have to ask for volunteers for separation before they can lay people off. What they're offering me would work out to about 3 months of pay. Sure, I'd be free of the evil empire, but what happens on month four? I have a child to support. I have me to support as well (though I've proven that I can live off $1 a day). I really want to take it, because I'm so tired of working there...but I'd feel so irresponsible if I do. No job, no benefits, in a city where far too many have been let go.

The market's too tough. I don't know if I'm ready to go out there.

2003-04-20T22:22:00.000-04:00

And in case anyone was wondering...

Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?

this quiz was made by the proper Victorian ladies at Spookbot

"Well-bred bookworm with a secret passion for handsome rogues." That's me, all right.

2003-04-20T21:52:00.000-04:00

Comedians aren't made, they're born

This morning, Cheburashka wakes me up, and I'm really not feeling getting out of bed. So she decides to tell me a joke, only she doesn't know how. So I decide to teach her how to tell the most basic knock-knock joke there is:

Me: Ok, I say knock-knock, you say who's there, ok? Knock knock.
Cheburashka: What?
Me: No, say who's there. Knock knock.
Cheburashka: Who there?
Me: Boo.
Cheburashka: Who's Boo?
Me: No, you say boo hoo. Knock knock. (she says who there?) Boo.
Cheburashka: Aaah! A monster!!
Me: No, no. Lets try again. (we get as far as boo who?) Why are you crying? (I laugh- it's a classic)
Cheburashka: Why you laughing? That's not funny. Who's crying? Nobody's crying. What are you doing, mama??
Me: Ok, I give up. No more jokes. What do you want for breakfast?
Cheburashka: hahahahahaha!!

Can't we all just knit along? (sorry, still in joking mode)

So apparently there's a little kafuffle in the knitblog universe. Someone posted rules for commenting on his blog, and people either agreed or disagreed. Which is usually how things work I suppose. I thought it a strange thing to do, but then again, I'm relatively new to the universe, so what do I know? My only quibble about the knitblog universe is how I find the trend of late is to be really bitchy. Certain blogs I've read are taking on an edgy tone that I'm sure wasn't always there. There's one in particular that had such venomous posts that I was like, whoa, where'd that come from? The very nature of the blog is that one can write whatever one wishes. Does everyone find the above joke exchange as funny as I do? Maybe not. But there it is. Keep reading or not. So that's why I'm not naming the blogs I'm referring to. I'll just avoid them. There are plenty others. I do like the Knitting Curmudgeon, though. She's been the same from day one (meaning the day I started reading her blog), and she's witty and not simply bitchy.

I would like to check the Knitlist, though. People are really ragging on it, so I have to check it out and see for myself what its all about. But I will say that any harsh words about Knitter's magazine are well deserved. I have subscriptions to a few mags, but that one was never a consideration. And they've changed the look, to one even worse. It has surpassed Knit N Style as my least favorite knitting mag. Ok, maybe its a tie.

2003-04-18T22:58:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, the Friday Five:

1. Who is your favorite celebrity?
I don't know. I've never been big on celebrities. If someone pointed one out to me, I'd be all, huh- big deal. but I do enjoy reading about when they screw up.

2. Who is your least favorite?
Something about Justin Timberlake really bugs me. I used to think it was the curly 'fro, but its gone now and I still can't stand him. Oh, and Renee Zellwegger. She always looks like she just sucked a lemon. (Meow!)

3. Have you ever met or seen any celebrities in real life?
Back when I worked in nightclubs I used to see them all the time. I once sassed Madonna when I was a bike messenger: she was standing next to the VIP elevator at Warner, and commanded me to push the button for her. Like I was really going to walk all the way over there for that. I told her to push it her damn self. And then made a big show of pushing the button for the regular elevator for myself.

4. Would you want to be famous? Why or why not?
I value my privacy too much. And I don't think I could bear to see an unflattering photo of me, coming out of a Starbucks in "laundry-day fashion," in the pages of Us magazine.

5. If you had to trade places with a celebrity for a day, who would you choose and why?
I'd be Halle Berry at the Oscars, handing Adrien Brody his award. I don't think I have to say why...

2003-04-15T22:27:00.000-04:00

Bad mommy strikes again.

Cheburashka has a cavity. I noticed a smudge weeks ago on her tooth, and I figured, better get this taken care of before it gets worse. Well, life distracted me, and I never got around to making that dentist appointment. It got worse, and yesterday on the bus home Cheburashka said her tooth hurt. I looked in her mouth and (casually, trying to sound like, hey no big whoop) said, oh we should have the doctor look at it and make it better. Big mistake: she has not forgotten the Evil Throat Swab from last week. So she started crying. And then howling. We got off the bus after ten minutes (there were a few nuts on the bus, and things were getting hectic anyway, and I just couldn't take it anymore). So we walked the rest of the way home. Well, I walked; she was curled up in my arms, tears streaming down her face.

Today I found a pediatric dentist who would see her in the evening. I even got her father to bring her. He was there filling out forms when I arrived. We sat for an hour, Cheburashka playing with toys, me & Beavis actually having a conversation. When they called her in, I wimped out and stayed in the waiting room. I could hear her screams from there. They were only gone maybe 10-15 minutes. Cheburashka appeared again in her father's arms and clutching a toothbrush and stickers. Turns out they just did the slightest of cleanings, and I have to bring her back next week for the real job. Can't wait. And of course Beavis scheduled it for the day when he can't be there. But, hey, I'm glad he was there today.

So I talked to some of the mommies I hang with online. And I learned that, hey- it happens. Little kids get cavities. Where did I think all that candy went? The upside of this? Cheburashka and I had a conversation about how too many sweets are bad for her teeth. And we agreed to cut down on them. Ha. We'll see how long that lasts.

I got a package to-daaaay! Powder blue Rowan Summer Tweed, from Cucumberpatch. Mwahahahaha!!!

2003-04-14T22:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday (My Day Off, as I call it, when Cheburashka is with her father), I went to Kings Plaza to return a jacket I bought at Children's Place. Turns out they never took off the security tag, so I had to go all the way back. I bought the damn thing 3 weeks ago; its such a haul for me to get there. But I went.

On the way back, I'm standing on Avenue U waiting to change buses, and I'm knitting the Prism jacket. I'm near the end, so I've got it tucked under my arm and knitting while huddled under the bus shelter. A tiny (really! she was really small) old lady comes over and remarks that I knit like she used to: yarn in my left hand, not wrapped around my finger, just hanging there til I wrap it on the needle. Of course we go into this loooong conversation about knitting, then she starts telling me about her embroidery.

Now, I talk to strangers all day long for a living, so I'm really not to keen on doing it on My Day Off, but a) we were talking about knitting, and I can never get enough of that, and b) I can't refuse old ladies anything. They could take me for everything I have, I'd be clueless. But it was actually a cool conversation, and she had a great sense of humour, and that I've-lived-long-enough-to-say-what-I-want mentality, but not rude or crabby at all. The conversation ended (20 minutes later- we didn't realized how long we'd waited for that damned bus) with her telling me to take care of myself, stay healthy, and I could not only live to be her age (86 years young), but get around and still be able to do things for myself and get to spend hours on end knitting because I've retired and now its my time.

You know how people just show up in your life to underscore something that's been knocking around in your head for a while? That's what Shirley (the woman) was for me. The day before I'd spent most of the day in bed because I was exhausted and crabby. And then I meet this 86 year old who is spry and tooting around Brooklyn and getting her life on. Yet me, I'm all Woe is I!

I need to get over it. I also need to get a car so I don't waste 20 minutes of my life waiting for a bus.

2003-04-12T10:20:00.000-04:00

I read a post at craftydiva's blog, where she posted the lyrics to a song about peace, and I thought I'd do the same. This song (unfortunately) is as timely as when it was written. It's also a runner-up for my favorite song:

Harvest For The World
1976
Composers: Ernie Isley, Marvin Isley, Ronald Isley, O’Kelly Isley, Rudolph Isley, Chris Jasper

All babies together, everyone one a seed
Half of us are satisfied, half of us in need
Love's bountiful in us, tarnished by our greed
Oh when will there be a harvest for the world?
A nation planted so concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go greater grows the pain
Far too many feeling the strain
Oh when will there be a harvest for the world?

Gather every man
Gather every woman
Celebrate your lives
Give thanks for your children
Gather everyone
Gather all together
Overlooking none
Hoping life gets better for the world
When will there be a harvest for the world?

Dress me up for battle when all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price come home with the least
Nation after nation turning into beasts
Oh when will there be a harvest for the world?

2003-04-11T14:00:00.000-04:00

The Friday Five

1. What was the first band you saw in concert?
I used to go to hardcore matinees every Sunday at CBGB's. Does that qualify? So I guess I'd have to say the first real concert was New Order at the little theater behind Madison Square Garden. What was it, the Felt Forum back then? I was 17. Went with- oh, let's not mention him.

2. Who is your favorite artist/band now?
My future husband, Jair Oliveira.

3. What's your favorite song?
Oh, so many that really touch me...but I think Stevie Wonder's "As" beats all. It's a geat song, and it reminds me of my younger self, and being a kid hanging out on the block.

4. If you could play any instrument, what would it be?
Well, now I futz around on guitar, but I would love to be able to play piano.

5. If you could meet any musical icon (past or present), who would it be and why?
Elvis Costello. Seems like he'd a great drinking buddy, it would certainly be an interesting conversation. And I could blather on about about how his music inspired me to learn guitar and write songs (not that anyone has ever heard them).

2003-04-10T21:18:00.000-04:00

I am woman, hear me roar!!!!

Yes, I'm feeling like an Amazon. I told my co-workers to call me Xena today (no one did. screw them). Why am I feeling this? Because, dear readers (both of you), I whupped some waterbug ass last night! Ha! Oh yeah! Who's your mama?

Okay, background info: to say I have a phobia of those critters is putting it mildly. I once stayed out of my own bathroom for days because I saw one in there. And then I made a coworker drive me home and come in and do a search for it. What a conversation:
Me: There's a huge waterbug in my apartment. Can you come up and kill it?
Jeff: (grinning) Gee, I never heard it called that before, but sure!

Anyway, here I am in my domain, up at 1am, getting my warnography fix on CNN (I don't watch it when Cheburashka's awake), when Baby Kitty goes all feral. She growling at her bowl, and I knew what it was. I felt all safe in here because I've never seen any bugs so I thought I had the one apartment in all NYC without bugs. Delusional, I know. My first impulse was to run out screaming, letting Cheburashka fend for herself. I don't know, maybe it was Rummy Rumsfeld's jibberjabber making me crazy, but I picked up the broom and whomped its little bug ass. Repeatedly. Baby Kitty even got a few shots in. Then I swept it up and took out it to the garbage chute. I was all, get the fuck out!!!

Okay, please indulge me. This is a major step for me. Anyone who has known me for more than 10 minutes knows how I get around waterbugs. So this is a major milestone. Excuse me while I do my victory dance.

Oh, and when I woke up, there was a giant milli/centi/lottapede on the ceiling. I whomped its ass too. Who else wants some of this?

2003-04-09T22:56:00.000-04:00

Cheburashka is not only well, she's making up for lost time. The shenanigans won't stop. She's already (and we've only been home an hour) spilled soy milk everywhere, put a pen in the remaining milk, stole the forbidden scissors from my knitting bag and snipped yarn and the antenae from the ladybugs on my slippers (don't ask- another moment of madness), and took a roll of quarters and filled her sock with them. That last one I'm worried about. I think she's planning on whomping me with that...

I've decided my slogan at work is "I'm happy now!" I'm going to pretend to go along with the corporate crap and just go with the flow. Stop asking questions at meetings (unless they're happy ones). Stop dragging my ass around. Why the change? I found out that my evaluation and appraisal is coming up. The city is laying off 5,000+ workers, companies are downsizing like crazy, and I really don't think this is the best time for me to lose a job because of my bad attitude. So, I'm happy now.

Until I hit Lotto. Then I'll be ecstatic.

The Prism jacket is speeding along. What a major difference, now that I know I can't do any other project til that's done. And yes, eBay beckoned, and I somehow ended up with a Bond knitting machine. $60, not bad I suppose (for a new one). Fit of madness (wow, I'm really prone to those aren't I?), but I want to do some big pieces, like dusters and skirts, and I'll be dagburned if I handknit those.

Rationalize an impulse purchase? Moi??

2003-04-08T20:01:00.000-04:00

So, no writing for a few days. Cheburashka was pretty ill all weekend. And she totally regressed: would only drink, not eat, and only if I held the cup for her. But it was okay, we got to snuggle all weekend. For a moment there Cheburashka wasn't her grown-up nearly four year old self, I had a little baby again, for a short while. I was pretty worried about her having a 103 degree fever for 4 days running. But, as of Sunday morning, she was up and running, so she got to do her usual Sunday hang-out with her father. And I got a much needed rest. For about 5 minutes, then I got up and did the grocery shopping and cleaned the whole apartment. While I cleaned, I listened to an old cassette Herman made in his dj days.

Looking at my Gucci, it's about that time...

I made myself crazy about my knitting. I think I have 10 projects going at once, with a limited time in which I can work on them (since I've been banned from knitting at my desk). I've got the Colinette/Prism jacket, the Rowan Summer Tweed cardigan, I need to rip out and redo the neck of Cheburashka's fuzzy heart sweater, and I even have some Sugar & Cream cotton (a moment of madness) that I want to use to make a pullover for myself. Oh, and there's the skullcap for myself using Millefille. I decided today that I can't do all this at once- I'll end up not finishing anything. So I'm finishing the Prism jacket- which is done all in seed stitch. not as fast going as plain stockinette, but I prefer the look. I've only got maybe a third of the back done. Then I'll pick up the Summer Tweed.

I hit eBay again- though I swore I wouldn't. I ordered more Summer Tweed (my Colinette phase is over, I'm on to Rowan now), and some Cotton Tape and maybe Calmer, soon as I get the list of prices and colors. As much as I hate my job, it does keep me in yarn... and pays the rent. Can't ask for more in this town. It was announced today that the city is closing some firehouses and is about to lay off thousands of workers. Gee, guess we're going back to the seventies: poverty, crime, and the World Trade Center under construction. Huh.

2003-04-04T17:26:00.000-05:00

And now, I join the Friday Five

1. How many houses/apartments have you lived in throughout your life?
Oh, my...so many: 14, not counting the times I didn't have an official residence and crashed at a friend's place. There's a reason this is called unfurnished brooklyn. An homage to my constant search for an apartment.

2. Which was your favorite and why?
I don't know. They all had something wrong with them. I think maybe the place on State Street was cool, cuz it had a fireplace. Crazy roommates, though.

3. Do you find moving house more exciting or stressful? Why?
It's like Christmas: once you finally get around to unpacking the boxes, its like, wow- I forgot I had this. Your old crap becomes new again.

4. What's more important, location or price?
Location, location, location. And I say this as if I could afford to live just anywhere.

5. What features does your dream house have (pool, spa bath, big yard, etc.)?
A big yard for Cheburashka and Baby Kitty to go nuts in. Big windows so I can stare off into space. And a huge kitchen. I don't ask for much...

2003-04-04T10:28:00.000-05:00

Stitch....

I started a new project (as if I don't have 12 on the needles now). I'm finally using the Provence cotton I bought last year, for Cheburashka. A periwinkle/lavendery color. The pattern I'm using starts with a cast-on of 564 stitches. What was I thinking? And I did 8 rows beofre I realized, I really don't like this. So it is now banished to the Isle of Lost Projects.

I bought 7 skeins of Rowan Summer Tweed from the Lion and the Lamb this week. Gonna make a simple pullover. I also need to find a substitute yarn for Berroco Denim Silk- I have their pattern for a poncho, but I don't like that it needs umpteen skeins. Maybe I'll make a swatch in the leftover Cascade Sierra and see how that works. Great yarn, lots of yardage, way cool colors.

...and Bitch

Tuesday night Cheburashka was very warm, but in the morning she was fine and I sent her off to daycare. Don't you know they called me at 4pm, saying she had a fever? So I left work (missing my Russian class), and picked her up. When I arrived, the van driver was there to take some kids home, so I hitched a ride with him. There was one adorable little boy sitting behind me, who every 2 minutes would ask, "hey lady- what's your name?" Then would tell me about the events of the day (real or imagined). He told me he was 3, but he was quite small for his age. Cheburashka kept yelling at me from the back not to talk to him. She hates sharing her mama with anyone!

So yesterday (Thursday), we stayed home (gonna love fighting with admin about this next week). I called her pediatrician, but of course he was out, and there's no other ped in the office. Now, he is a wonderful doctor (which is why I travel to Manhattan to see him, instead of staying local), but since the other ped in the practice left, and Cheburashka only gets sick on her doc's day off, I've been left hanging a few times. So I called the HMO and they ok'd a visit to a local ped. Seems really nice, good staff- even after the fearsome throat swab, Cheburashka was cool with the staff. Turns out the kidlet has a throat infection as well as a cold (that explains the 103 degree fever). So we got a script for meds, and the doc also gave a script for "ice cream" which earned her big points with me.

So we're home again today. She's doing better, but now I'm starting to feel achy.

2003-04-01T21:29:00.000-05:00

Still at war. Still trying to make sense of the world.

I'm hooked on watching the news channels, though I know I should really leave them alone. Its like I keep expecting it to be a cheesy movie, I just fell asleep in front of the tv and its not real.

But its real.

And then there's the terror alerts. I'm sick of bomb-sniffing dogs on the subway, signs advertising duct tape on stores, and having to pass cops carrying really, really big guns on my way to work each day. You know, I was just gettting over the terror attacks. Now a plane could pass above me and I wouldn't look up and try to guess which way to run if it suddenly fell. I started taking the train over the bridge again, once I realized it (probably) wasn't going to blow up. the feeling is not as bad this time around. I'm not reliving the bombing, not seeing the debris rain around me, not feeling the heat of the blast, not hearing the roar of the buildings collapse... but damn.

I want this to be over because I'm not convinced we should be there. I want this to be over because I don't want innocent people to die.
I want this to be over.

2003-03-19T23:14:00.000-05:00

So. We're at war. Again.

I'm here because I need to say something, but I'm speechless. This is insane. So many will die, and for what?

maybe I'll try tomorrow. I hope I can sleep.

Can the Iraqis sleep with all those bombs going off?

damn....

2003-03-15T17:53:00.000-05:00

testing

2003-03-13T21:45:00.000-05:00

And this is me, posting everyday. Ha.

Ok, I didn't felt the orange tote, because I started another project, with new yarn. As if I don't have enough yarn already. Anyhoo, its a sweater for Cheburashka made from baby blue Cascade Sierra (cotton/wool), and some Firenze eyelash type yarn, which will form a heart on the front of the sweater. I started Monday, and the front is done. Despite the fact that I can no longer knit at work...

Russian class is coming along. I may actually be learning something. Funny how I managed to learn 3 other languages (German, Spanish Portuguese), yet refuse to speak them (unless, of course, I'm drunk. then its easy). But in this neighborhood, with a child who speaks it, and daycare providers who speak it, well, I think I'm going to have to get over that language barrier real quick.

And where the hell is spring???

2003-03-08T23:37:00.000-05:00

I've decided I'm gonna post every day, regardless (or, I should say, irregardless) of whether I have something to say or not. Huh?

I'm getting my knitting life in order. Seeing which projects just need finishing, which need to be shoved into the back of the closet til next winter, and which I plan on starting next. I've also inventoried my stash. Quite impressive. And then I deconstructed two projects: a saffron Point Five hooded jacket for Cheburashka, and a 7 ft long scarf I made for myself. I was sure the gauge was correct on the sweater, but I don't like how it came out. So instead, I'm swatching again using size 15 needles (I used size 17 as per the pattern from FCEK). And the scarf? I made it months ago using Hip-Hop, but it pilled and got all funky looking (and not in a good way). And lawd, did it shed. But I'm going to turn it into a backpack, and felt the damn thing since its trying to felt itself.

Hey, it occurred to me the other day that my hair is felted. Kewl.

And my felting project? A bag of my own design in shades of orange and red made with Lamb's Pride Bulky? Well,I don't think I did it right. Didn't shrink all that much, and I can still see the stitches. Damn public washing machines. I'm going to give it another go- hey, its a big tote bag, can't screw it up.

And no matter how pretty Kidsilk Haze is, I ain't working with it again. If a certain only friend of mine reads this, she'll know why she hasn't gotten her scarf yet. It pissed me off. Maybe I should try with the bamboo needles...

Cheburashka's asleep. I have time to myself. I want a big cup of hot chocolate and some mindless tv. Ooh, Saturday night!

2003-03-07T21:23:00.000-05:00

Well. Haven't posted in a month.

I need spring. The snow, the cold, the grey skies...I need spring, dammit.

And I need a new job. Something creative. No more corporate crap (how I love the benefits, though).

2003-02-06T20:03:00.000-05:00

Ok, lets discuss my yarn obsession: I've discovered ebay, which I have studiously avoided for ages knowing full well I'd get hooked on it. Well, lo and behold, I found cheap Colinette there, and I don't even wanna mention how much I've spent. Not gonna do it.
So, what did I get? A ton of Manos-type yarn (from Uruguay, even). A big hank of green cashmere. Colinette yarn: Point 5 (purple, saffron, bluejay, earth), Wigwam (leaf, plum). Some yummy chocolate alpaca (a lot of it). Some grey Ballybrae (why? cuz it was there). And some raw silk handpainted blue & brown- ok, that one, I was caught a bit off guard. I didn't realize that raw silk is not the smooth, lustrous stuff I've seen in yarn shops. It is...well, it is raw. But, workable. I think that's going to become a shawl, after I finish the other stuff.
I also found a dealer (you know, for the yarn addiction) in England with great prices for Colinette at Cucumberpatch. Jane has been great, great selection, great price, and really friendly. She even got the ever elusive Moss Prism- I've been wanting the for a year to make a jacket from FCEK, but it required 12 skeins at $20 a pop. Didn't want it that bad. And I couldn't find an adequate susbstitute yarn. But now I have the Prism, at half of what I would pay for it here in the States. And, I'll have it finished by spring, even with the other projects I have in mind.
And what are these projects? A saffron Point 5 jacket for Cheburashka. A Point 5 sweater for me (in Sea Beach). Two (or more, depending on how fast I can make them) "bucket o'chic" hats. Bought the pattern a while back, but haven't attempted it yet. Maybe in double Koigu (went nuts for it after I made a tam), or in Mission Falls 1824 cotton. I'm in spring mode, even tho its really cold here in nyc. I'm getting my spring knitting on so that when the time comes, I'm ready!

ooh! The Michael Jackson interview is on! gotta go!

2003-02-01T14:19:00.000-05:00

whoa- where have I been?
Sick, twice since the last post. Slogging away at the many knitting projects I agreed to. Trying not to get fired for insubordination ( or just plain sassiness).

But I did finish Ralph's sweater, and my own Lopi sweater (which I snuck in between projects).

More to write, will check in later.

2002-12-23T09:45:00.000-05:00

Well, the cold's tapering off. Fever gone, on antibiotics. But now Cheburashka (that's my daughter- no, not her real name) has a bad cough. And yet, off to daycare she goes. Is that bad? Have I just sent her off to pass the cold germs to the rest of the kids? Well, they've passed on umpteen stomach viruses to her that she's brought home to me, so..

Bad mommy strikes again.

Didn't work too much on the sweater for Ralph. Wasn't feeling well, so I slept much of the weekend. As much as a single mama can, anyway. Went to ballet class yesterday w/ Cheburashka. She'd been getting grumpy about ballet class for the past few weeks, so we didn't go (of course, she'd only get grumpy after we'd trudged all the way there). But after seeing the school's production of Nutcracker last week, she's ready to dance again. She's good at it, for a toddler. I'd love her to continue, but I don't want to stress her over it.

Just pictured myself as Mama Rose! Dressed in animal prints, turned away at the stage door...

Ran into a friend from high school at Knitting Hands my "pusher" for my yarn addiction. We'd met up there last week, both swearing that was it for our yarn purchases for a while. And yet, there we were again. Busted. We bought more yarn, gabbed about the yarn stores in NYC and her business. We walked to her store Tribal Impressions and I bought a fab denim skirt that was tie-dyed w/ mustard and brown. I'm not describing it well, but trust me, it's fab. And it fit! See, it takes a black woman to understand the sizing of other black women. I love denim skirts but can't find any to fit my, um, curves. this skirt rocks out loud. Check out the store!!!

2002-12-20T09:06:00.000-05:00

Well. Instead of working on the sweater I've been commisioned to do, I'm starting up a blog. Yep, that's me: the great procrastinator. Doing everything except what I'm supposed to be doing. Ah, yes.

Who am I? Another knitting blogger. Mother of a toddler. Writer who doesn't write anymore. Perennial college student who may actually finish (yikes!) this semester. Corporate wage slave. Substitute mama to a psycho kitten. And living in Brooklyn- the town I love, that occasionally doesn't love me back. But that's Brooklyn for ya.

I also have a fever- had this cold for a week now, and it gets worse, not better. But its weird, being feverish. I'm sweating, I'm cold, I'm sweating, I'm cold. Haven't been to work in a few days, so I missed seeing my co-workers escorted from the building. Layoffs. During the holidays. Lovely.

Okay, think I'll start in on the sweater...