I Haven't Been Slacking, I Swear
This projaholic hasn't blogged in over a week. Am I getting over my blog addiction? Sadly, no. But other addictions have been taking over my time.
1. Knitting (see photo). I'm nearly finished with this Christmas present for my mother in law, an afghan knitted/crocheted in Red Heart Light n Lofty (for you knit nerds out there). It's four panels of stockingette with a granny square in the middle, and single-crocheted strips inbetween and around the edges. Not the warmest blanket ever (big-ass needles leave gaps), but it did go together pretty quickly. It looks like a big window with four panes, about 4' x 5'. All I have left is weaving in the ends of the outside border. It's a good thing the MIL doesn't use the web, or the surprise would be ruined.
Of course now I have to cook up a plan for the leftover yarn. I'm thinking an afghan for our indoor cats (cats are very appreciative recipients of afghans...especially machine-washable ones), and I'm screwing around with some Anatolian kilim designs inspired by the incredible textiles we saw on our trip to Turkey last February. I promise I'll post photos, if I get it done, pics with and without cats. Angus, our formal-feral, is a good collaborator on the knitting projects. Leave him alone with a ball of yarn and it's like Eva Hesse came through the house.
2. Pruning my overgrown novel. Thanks to some excellent advice from the sweetest rejection letter I ever got, plus the support of my awesome writer's group and writing class, plus some mutual cheerleading on Zoetrope.com, I've been turning the novel formerly known as THE GLORY HOLE to the novel now known as ORANGE AND WHITE (at least that's today's title). Going from three protags to two, and making it much more "women's fiction" than before, for those of you who have seen previous incarnations.
3. Walking. It's the one form of exercise that hasn't bored me yet. Even yoga has gotten old. Maybe I'm warming up for the transit strike, which may or may not happen next week. Of course I've been walking around the neighborhoods Flatbush and Flatlands, which are, true to their names, and make Manhattan look downright hilly. Maybe I'll venture to Park Slope tomorrow.
4. Gigging. I had two excellent gigs since I last checked in here, both to audiences I hadn't met yet. At the Sunday Salon in Williamsburg, I was wholly impressed by my co-readers, and my story "War" went over pretty well. At the CLMP Periodically Speaking series, I learned what an idiot I am for never setting foot into the central NY Public Library until now. Been here 14 years, and never saw that gorgeous interior. A great place to sit and write, or look at prints and illuminated manuscripts. A free museum, rare in this burg. And the asses on the big lion sculptures are really cute! Why did I only look at their faces before now? Seriously, it's only six blocks away from my job! I read "Monsters" by Max Ruback, representing zingmagazine, which I learned is possibly the coolest artmag I've ever seen. I'll be subscribing. (Just what I need. Magazine subscriptions, yet another addiction.)
5. Okay, now the embarrassing addictions: CSI reruns on Spike TV every night. I'm driving my husband crazy. Ricky Gervais podcasts. Have you discovered this yet? Su Doku and crossword puzzles in the free Metro paper. I've become one of those annoying people who does puzzles on the train. Popcorn: cheese flavored, butter flavored, caramel flavored, chocolate-drizzled. The trading desk at my job is covered with it. I'm getting weighed by my doctor Monday, and fear my blood pressure will go up purely over the fear of being weighed. And the transit strike won't save me this time; that doesn't happen until Tuesday. I told my husband this morning, looking at the obese people in the diner around us, "Hey, I'm not the only fat girl in Brooklyn. Right?" He said, "You know I'm not touching that. " True, there is no right answer to that question, but also true, I'm not the fattest person in this borough, and defintiely not the fattest in this country. But skinny husband with his plate of 3 eggs, corned beef hash, side of bacon? It's not fair! (Side of grease with that?) Vegetarian me with my oatmeal and skim milk. I'd hate him if he were a girl. He doesn't even have to try.