This is a cameraphone pic I took on the Library Buildings (LIS548) field trip to one of the behemoth Chicago suburb libraries.
Monthly Archives: November 2006
The Rogue saga continues
I brought the sweater with me today, in hopes of finding someone it fit. It’s kind of a Cinderella story, only the shoe part – not the rags-to-riches part.
Many thanks (five, to be exact) go to model Nancy, who is the PERFECT size for this sweater. She’s 4’11” and about a size 3.
So, anyone who fits that description who has $50 can be the owner of this amazing sweater. Also, there are almost two skeins of yarn left (ug, insult to injury) so you can knit up matching socks, or a scarf, or hat, or a matching sweater for your cat!
Kaaaaaaaaahn!
As I’ve recently discovered, the sweater I just knitted is too small.
If you’re not a knitter, or don’t make … furniture, or … babies, then you don’t understand what this means. I’ve just spent hours upon hours of my time deciphering a pattern and fixing mistakes to make a perfect sweater. See, this sweater was worth ripping back yards and yards of yarn for a tiny mistake, because I love it. I have a tendency to give away the things I make (I hope you’re enjoying those mittens, Vivek!) so this was going to be the first thing for myself.
Alas.
Here is the sweater, in it’s perfectly perfect completed form:
See my forlorned face? See the cuffs? I’m not wearing anything underneath (hee) and it barely fits my torso.
So. I’ve contacted the Rogue community (I’m being serious) and asked for advice. I think I’m going to take Rogue I around with me tomorrow and see if I can’t find a more appropriately sized model. I’m hoping someone will give me fifty American dollars for it. That would recoup the cost of yarn (and I will build a new death star, oh yes). Rogue II will be even better. I plan on knitting the sleeves IN THE ROUND.
Did I just blow your mind?
Email me if you’d like to buy this amazing, hand-knit, lovingly handily handcrafted sweater.
The voting post
I voted today.
I was totally sketched out by my experience.
I was not asked for identification.
I was given a paper ballot in a “privacy folder” which I handed to pollster volunteer who verified that it was legit, then removed the folder and handed me the ballot to put in the scanner.
I cannot believe they went to the trouble of giving me a folder to hide my ballot in, since they opened it and handed it back to me. What is the point? It feels worse than if I didn’t have a folder to begin with.
Jason blogs about his experience at the same polling station here.
Smeffanie-tastic
That doesn’t quite work as well, because SMeffanie Tassick is now StAffanie Elexander.
I have to tell you why Stephanie makes my heart sing with joy. It’s not just because she’s my favorite model.
Part of my train journey yesterday included watching the first episode of the third season of Battlestar Galactica. Stephanie had been telling me about the show, and in particular about how I reminded her of a character named Starbuck.
I watched the mashup of the first two seasons, so I could begin watching season three and have a good idea of what’s been going on. In the beginning, Starbuck is a fighter pilot. By season three, the ess has hit the fan, and she ends up a love slave to a robot on a colony planet.
At some point, Starbuck goes from having a pageboy haircut to a Christina Aguilera mane.
So I’m sitting on this train, thinking “I wonder if Starbuck has a weave.” There’s no way to check via internet, so I decide I must know, and text message Stephanie.
She called back within a minute. She confirmed my suspicion with a theory that since the show jumped forward a year during the last episode, it was either a wig or a weave. Since it seems to incorporate her hair length (read: lots of short layers on top) it’s probably a weave.
For the love of all that is good and holy, welcome home.
I’ve spent the entire day on various trains, and in transit centers. I don’t want to travel again for a while …. oh wait. I’m starting The Great Job Hunt Across America, and next week I’ll traverse both coasts – by train, plane, and automobile. Hopefully I’ll get in snowshoeing, ostrich perching, and donkey caravan by the end of the year.
Highlight of today’s travel? Waiting for the train with Jason and amusing ourselves by creating a comic:
I like pointy teeth.
I was sitting in an H&M dressing room pondering why I like Avril Lavigne. It hits me – she has Billy Corgan teeth. You know – pointy, feral, vampiric grilles. The same goes for the singer from My Chemical Romance and Fairuza Balk. They’re all bitey faced.
My new zine: Biteyface
(I’d like to put a zine together – and bind it using my sweet conservation skillz. I haven’t figured out what the content should be, other than filled with spam poetry – but that’s not really my work. I don’t want to just C&P blog posts either. I’d take suggestions.)
My parents are immortal. Yes, they are.
I had a long conversation tonight with a friend about our parents and how the idea of them dying is impossible to think about. I remember the conversation I had with my sister years ago agreeing that Mom and Dad were immortal.
Tonight we talked about how it will ever possibly feel OK to have our parents leave us. Even if I have my own family, I don’t think that I will ever be ready for my parents to shuffle off. Seriously. They’re not old enough for me to think that it would be merciful.
I’m maybe just a little freaked out thinking about it. But it’s kind of pleasurable, because it’s an emotional indicator of how I feel. I’m sure there’s lots of things that I won’t miss till they’re gone, but it’s a powerful feeling to miss someone before they leave.
I choo-choo-choo choose you
I spent many many hours on the train today. I started out at 6 AM, from grand Champaign-Urbana, and spend four hours in Union Station waiting for my connecting train to Ann Arbor.
I spent my time reading Devil in the White City, watching SLC Punk and Wallace & Grommit and the Wererabbit Thingie, and knitting the belowmentioned sweater. I haven’t seen SLC Punk since maybe high school, and I’m embarrassed at the esteem I held it to – I have since learned a lot more about anarchism, and it’s slightly unfortunate that my introduction to anarchy was Matthew Lillard’s monologues.
I’d suggest watching the documentary Anarchism in America if you’re interested. It’s a documentary about anarchist developments in the early part of the 20th century. It’s a lot of interviews with oooooold people who look like my great grandma Bertha. Sacco and Venzetti and the whole shebang. I learned a lot, and have decided that the type of social anarchism described in this documentary is really really sweet, and I totally could live in a place where everyone is involved in the community and cares.
NaBloPoMo
I was reading Miss E’s blog, and found out about NaBloPoMo, which is a blog-a-day version of NaNoWriMo.
The goal is to write a blog post every day in November. I used to write every day, back when I had a soul-sucking day job. Now that I’m not wirelessly shackled to my computer, I find myself writing less. As you can see by my archives.
So, despite the fact that I missed the first day of November, I’m going to participate in Namblarimo. Wait. Nabby Bloggerson. Narblooosh. Ner ner ner ner. Ack.
In fact, I’ll make up for yesterday by posting twice today. Perhaps I can backdate … (wait, Jason might not like that).
I’m all out of the habit of blogging. I don’t have much in the way of astute observations or quippy commentary, but I think given a couple of days, I’ll get my proverbial groove back.
In the meantime, let me tell you the story of finishing the Rogue hoodie. I’ve been talking (and blogging) about this knitting pattern for at least a year now. I started knitting it a few months ago, and finally finished it last night. I put it on and stand in front of the mirror.
It’s perfect …. ly too small. It’s perfect in its proportions, in the fine cabling, in the exactly exact stockinette stitch. It’s just too small. I don’t know what to do with it. I actually haven’t thought about it too much, because I think I might cry. I don’t think I know anyone smaller (and shorter) than me who I’d be willing to just give to. I guess I could sell it on the handmade-knits black market. Any suggestions?
In other news, I’m about 10 hours away from getting on the train and heading to Ann Arbor for the weekend. I’m going to scout out the public library system, in case they want to hire me, and get a whole lot of work done.
I’m writing an article for Public Libraries Quarterly on disasters in smallish public libraries, tentatively titled: “Snakes in the Library”. I have to put together the lit review and a section on … I forget … snakes … by next Friday.
I also have already started knitting my next sweater:
It’s not for me.