my first crochet-along

yes it sounds dorky. I don't care. I'm making a ripple blanket with a buncha folks who are crazy crocheters here:

enjoy!

reorganization

This will be short. My brain is a wee bit fried, had lots of friends over today to play with A. Potty training is exhausting. He's good at telling me when he needs to pee, but we're very uninterested in the other stuff. He did it once, last week, after an hour of agonizing, and he was so thrilled that he asked us to take a picture of it. So we did.

I'm tired. But the house is pretty clean compared to its normal state of chaos. This weekend I had a lot of time to myself, thank you D, and totally reorganized most of my studio. I went through the ten binders of Art Education papers and classwork, recycled most of it, and kept my favorite papers and articles. In another ten years I'll recycle the rest of it probably.

Then I moved my stash of lovely yarn into the bookshelves that once held sketchbooks and art ed materials, and I am so much happier with the place. Initially I had it organized by fiber, which really looked bad and against my artist sensibility. So now it's by color, a palette of yarn. The studio once again is the sanctuary that I need it to be, and things are where they should be. Now I just need the time to go in there and work with the stuff...

some things I love

I thought I would contrast a recent post with something positive, since I have been itching to share the cool/fun/odd things I've heard about and read and experienced lately. And also share pictures of my favorite guys in the world. And my Smurf collection (which isn't quite finished in arrangement and elements, and by no means complete).Yes, there is an album of Father Abraham in Smurfland. I don't have a record player, but I think that may be a good thing in this case. My cousin also brought back a bag of Smurf-shaped marshmallows from Rome, Italy, bless her.

Speaking of Smurfs, a person I don't think I've ever met commented on my blog about a Smurf website, Invasion de Schtroumpfs, produced by a person or people in France. It's the first time I ever reeeeeeally wanted to learn French, just to figure out the captions. I can understand about half the words, and can fudge a good bit, but I'd still love to know who these people are and where they've been all my life.

Priming, painting, and putting up the display shelves took a considerable amount of time, and during much of that time I listened to my very favorite Dickens novel, Bleak House, on my ipod.
D gave me a subscription to audible.com for Christmas, and it was truly the perfect gift for me. For a 34-hour-long recording, I have certainly gotten my money's worth just in the first go. Last year, the BBC dramatised the book, and did a smashing job with it. Gillian Anderson, of X-Files fame, is absolutely striking in the series. There are over seventy important and minor characters in the book, from the lowest, filthiest wretch to the Lord High Chancellor and the Belle of London society and everyone in between. It's a mystery as well, one of the first of its kind. Check it out.

The last wonderful things are centered around New York City, truly the best city in the world, and where D and I spent this past weekend. Our great friend and faithful host lives and works there, for which I envy him. The only thing I don't quite envy is the cost of living, but ah, what a life. A short subway ride from just about everything I'd want except free babysitting.

We went up this weekend primarily to attend a lecture on gender roles at Redeemer Presbyterian Church. Kathy Keller, wife of the senior pastor, Tim Keller, delivered the lecture and answered tons of questions, and is every bit as awesome as her husband. A great deal of my own personal confusion was cleared up through her words, and I am so grateful for that.

Just down the street from Redeemer's offices is a yarn shop I would never have heard about if I wasn't on a crochet message board. School Products is a store in midtown that has an amazing selection, especially luxury yarns imported from Italy. Cones of pure cashmere, silk, yak (?? and super-yak, which I bought primarily for the name, and it's super-soft), cotton, you name it, stuff you can dye yourself, stuff you'd have to take out a loan to make a sweater with, books, notions, the whole deal. Droolworthy in the extreme.

My last obsession for this long post of joy is Project Runway. I am no lover of reality TV shows, and generally cry with embarrassment when I see the degradation and lack of self-awareness involved in these shows. However. This show is not like that. You don't have a bunch of bumbling amateurs screeching through an already-awful song. You don't have people stapling their buttcheeks together and crapping in Home Depot display toilets. No, there are actually talented people, all of them with design experience, competing in amazing challenges that demand creativity, business sense, people skills, and a bit of Bullcrap 101 (an essential art school survival skill, where you learn to sell a mediocre, half-finished, poorly-conceived idea as ironic commentary on the ephemeral nature of decay or other such tripe.) And there was a Pratt Institute grad in the first season of the show. I felt instant solidarity with her, even though my stay was a short one.

So there we have it. Some things I love. Hope you love them too.

I can't wait till A is in middle school

Really, I can. I know what those boys are like...whew! (and P.U. too!) But after what I will post today, I'm sure he'll be properly mortified only when his voice starts cracking and he smells like Gym Shoe most of the day.

Last week, D removed the crib rail from A's bed, converting it into his Big Boy Bed in a simple, yet highly gratifying, step. A ran down the steps and told me all about it in his most explosive, deep-voiced superhero way: "MOMMY! DADDYTOOKOFFDASIDEOFDABEDANITTURNTO-INABIGBOYBED!!!!!!!" And then he ran a lap around the first floor, before going back upstairs to try it out. He's done really well so far, and has only fallen out once, I think. It's a nice change, and he hasn't noticed the freedom it could give him yet. He still stays in there till we come in to get him when he wakes up, and hasn't started wandering the house in the middle of the night. But that's not that embarrassing to a middle-schooler.

We went to a good pal's house the other day, and that good pal was enjoying a lollipop because he pooped on the potty for the first time. A was duly impressed, and wanted to try it out too. Unsuccessful so far with that (sparing details of which I know you'd rather remain ignorant), but we went to Target yesterday, and chose several pairs of Big Boy Underwears. I like to add the "s" on the end, just because. I thought we'd be trying them out in a couple of weeks, when my mind was centered on a good potty-training strategy, but he was so excited about "DARTH UNDERWEARCANIWEARITWHENWEGETHOME????" that I felt one must strike while the iron is hot. So we're armed with reward candies, clorox wipes, and loads of underwears. I rolled up the living room rug, and ask every three minutes whether he has to pee or not. Or if he wants to use the potty for "some privacy time," as he says when things get unnaturally quiet and he finds a corner to hide in, and emerges when the room smells so bad I don't need to ask. Now that's embarrassing. Sigh.

my new version of blogger is ready!

So I hear, and so I have heard for several months (maybe 6 or so? I was afraid so I hid.)

So I transferred everything, and I think it actually worked. Let me know if things aren't going as they should. The only discernable changes should be my photo of the bunny, and word verification for comments. Sorry to do that, but I hate spam and it should get rid of the comment spam, like "hey I enjoye'd you're post why not try a successful careeR in punctuation:!" Learn to frickin' spell, and maybe you too can get a good job instead of spamming me.