Weighty Issues.

Rang in the New Year overweight, as always, and, as always, Sad.  That was the main impetus for Dry January.  Well, that, and the fact that, if I shed problems like onion skins, I'd get to the root of Things.

Don't know that that's what's happening, but do know that not drinking alcohol leads to wanting to cut back on caffeine, which leads to a whole bunch of other things.

In one of my stronger, more inspired moments of late, opened a box containing a journal dating back from 2012, where I found myself 20 lbs lighter than I am now ... Fretting about how I needed to lose 10 lbs.

I've always been chunky.  I probably always will be.  Doesn't mean that I'm not healthy or athletic; just means that I am Bigger than what current aesthetics dictate.

Let's us not worry so much about weight / being thin, and worry more about the body chemistry issues.  Cholesterol is fine, but could be better.  Blood sugar is fine.  Blood pressure is only high when I stress out over going to get it checked.

This is me back in 2009 - same as in 2012, when I was all upset over things.  2018 me *loves* this portrait of me, chunky as I may be.

Musical Interlude.

Funny, but I've been running around a lot lately. A friend who is a big karaoke fan got me to slow down, to take a breather, to reflect on nicer things.



Shiver-Up-Spine trills. Amazing guitar. Paroles pour Le Pacha ici.

Sexist? Paff. This lady's a pistol (or a chop-buster, depending on your point of view, I guess).

Hypnotic.

Love how the internet can sometimes be like those Matryoshka dolls - you open one up to find another little treat within, &c, &c. Anyway, came upon this little video of some Arab IDF soldiers engaging in a traditional sort of poetry 'slam' and was really taken in by it:



Found it via Solomon, who linked to this site, an interesting one in its own right - and not just for the "explicit sexual language or innuendo found in most posts," either! Definitely take a look at Nizo's post on the subject - he gives an explanation of what the guys are doing along with a bit of a translation. (Honestly have to agree with him - the Druze guy is *awfully* cute. Love his voice, too.)


***

Sweet that the Bedouin guy calls himself 'Bulbul,' a kind of songbird found all over Africa and in the Middle East.

Chemistry.

Am sort of operating in "safe mode" as the hormones start cresting. Though all my life I've been on a 21-24 day cycle (save for the year or so when I was training for the Tour de France. Then, it was a roughly six-week cycle), am still neither used to or happy with it. Wish it didn't have to be as physically painful as it's always been. Wish I didn't have the 2-3 days of utter hopelessness that show up before the bleeding.

The Change can't come soon enough.

OLD.

Harbinger of Spring:

We've had a ton of Goldfinches and House Finches out back for the past month-or-so that I've been back; is interesting in that they weren't around last year, or anything.

Have become kind of ordinary, these little ones:



Goldies flocking on the feeders last week. Get a load of that particularly Gold bee-hind on the top level!

Have to say that I'm surprised with how accustomed to the bright flashes of primary colors have become; sometimes even find myself looking beyond the birds to other things. Still, changes in the routine do surprise. The other day, observed something subtle, lovely, totally Springlike: a male Red Head tenderly passing a sunflower seed to a brown headed, stripy-breasted girlfriend. (sigh.) Spring is *almost* here.

Lace.

I'm smart, but feel dumb most of the time. Far more adept manually than what I give myself credit for, am easily intimidated by anything that looks 'too hard.' What is too hard, though? Especially in terms of knitting.

Started knitting some basic lace patterns back in the day when we could bring knitting on airplanes. I liked that it both occupied my hands and kept me focused mentally when nervous fatigue would make reading, for example, impossible. Last year, got through two gorgeous scarves: Falling Water (first lace ever!)



Katia's Alpaca. This languished for nearly a year before I got up the energy to block it. It's currently on pins and wires in my room as I type.

and Nancy Bush's Stork's Nest.



My version: knitted with some lovely-looking, but kind of difficult stuff from Vermont. The color name is "antique brass." Love that.)



Where's my closeup?! Close up!

Both took forever because I saved them for flight/airport time, but both were incredibly satisfying and made (in my opinion) lovely gifts.

Was really pleased with the flat-knitted results (especially when, after Falling Water, I figured out how to do purls without twisting the stitches. This may seem obvious to 85% of the population, but I'm left-handed, so was a bit of a casse-tête.)

Anyway, based on all this success, decided to take thing further and try a circular (yes, like a doily) bit of lace. The joy of this is not having to purl every other row unless it's germane to the pattern. Decided on Brooklyntweed's interpretation of Hemlock Ring:



My dad was kind of nonplussed by this project as, during a difficult family time, I was cursing like a stevedore late at night when everyone was trying to sleep. Found some errors in the pattern, y'see, and was having a hard time resolving them/'reading the lace'/concentrating in general. Lace problems: solved! Family ones?: Not so much yet, anyway.



Finished knitting in Fray-ance chez le Frenchie. Kind of fitting that I end up with a cabbage flower for un petit chou, non? (snort)



Aah, the magic of blocking!
Am so pleased at how this turned out. The Frenchie, also, as one can see.

You all saw what I did for me as a Birthday gift. Was down and out enough to not leave the house for a bit, but could still knit. Decided to try the little bird spreading its wings on the needles construction, as that's kind of what I'm feeling like right now. A new friend's fearlessness and a free pattern (not to mention a huge stash of lace/sock yarn) are what's fueling the latest project:



The Journey of 400m Begins with But a Single Cast-On. It's called Mesange Bleue because "Blue Tit" is something that the 12 year old boy in me won't allow me to call it (snort).

I'd like to do a new lace project a month. Something that'll challenge me technically, hopefully, too. As I'm working on a new physical body as well (more later), would like to make some nice Summery stuff for me.

(We'll see, right?)

It's That Time of Year Again.



Many of these are in the process of being knitted/sewn together/stuffed. All will be revealed a week from Sunday; don't want to ruin the surprise.

Am noticing something interesting: Ampersand was not a happy cat. Her early life was rough and she was just too traumatized to really ever be at ease. I think she was thankful to have a warm place to sleep, people to keep her company and decent food to eat, though. The best I could do in her case was to make the end of her life better than the beginning.

Magnolia, on the other hand, seems to be a happy cat at heart who just went through some recent tough times. As the shelter folks thought might happen, she is starting to blossom into a more confident, strong animal. On watching her break up a fight between the boy cats today, I got the impression that she just might end up the boss of the house.



The Good Ship Maggie. Just got word from the vet: aside from some bad tartar and gingivitis, she's in good shape. Need to get a tooth cleaning scheduled soon.

Apparently, like me, she's a nervous eater when she's unhappy. Have her on a diet and am exercising her a good bit with the laser dot. She's going to be okay.

Pattern Recognition.



Look at the coloring, those eyebrows. (Thank heavens for no black teeth yet, anyway.)



Promotional picture from Misoguchi's Ugetsu Monogatari.)

(Feel as though I should be calling her Noko-san instead of Magnolia. She certainly acts as though I should.)

The Pale Flower of Spring Hill.



Daisy Magnolia. Daisy's what her original people called her. For whatever reason, the shelter she ended up at changed her official name to Magnolia. Pavel likes calling her Maggie, Mags or just Silly Maggie. I alternate between the simple 'girl kitty' and savoring the full four syllables of her pink flower name.

Brought her home last night with very little incident aside from a bit of totally-understandable miaowling in the car. First thing was to scope out a safe place under the bed, of course. After a minute or two, curiosity got the best of our heroine and she did a full exploration of the perimeter of the new living space.

Of course, the boys were fascinated. (This time around, I think that it's Tony who's got the crush. Trouble's interested, but not as obsessed with her as he was with Ampersand.) The girl is showing pointed disinterest towards them both.

Will be interesting to see how this all plays out. I know for myself that have had the heart hooked. She's really a dear. Hope she grows happier here.

Should have known better than to not only ignore the flashing amoebas obscuring my vision the other day, but to go out and indulge in three of the big four that all but guarantee a knockout: salted nuts, chocolate, red wine. I deserved the hammer slamming down, the blindness and the eventual loss of a perfectly good meal. (idiot.)

Pattern Recognition III



House Sparrow mating dance.



Pavel's impression of the House Sparrow mating dance. The hand striking out from the left is my impression of what an uninterested girl sparrow will do to get rid of the unwanted suitor.

Two reasons why Pavel's line would die out if he were a male house sparrow:

1.) He's doing the dance during the wrong season.
2.) He's not persevering enough. I didn't even touch him. Have seen girl sparrows peck the bejeezus out of the males they weren't interested in.

Better luck next year. Or with a different species, perhaps.

There were so many thing in the Eighties that were so wrong; aesthetically and otherwise.

Patrick Swayze was something right.

(click here. Embedding's disabled.)

Rest in Peace.

Wow.

It's amazing how much more I'm starting to resemble my paternal Grandmother as I get older. (This isn't a bad thing.)

Wire drops were made in one of the rooms being updated. Lots of detritus carted off, as well. I had yet another Kafka-like interaction with a bureaucracy that's been dogging me for nearly 20 years. Will not let them get me. Eleanor of Aquitaine was imprisoned for the same amount of time by her husband - no money, no freedom, no interactions with others - and she bloomed. What I'm dealing with is far less severe and certainly far less important in the scheme of things. Still, it's important to me. Important enough to have consumed a good bit of my soul over the past several years, anyway.

While the guys were up knocking things around and singing loudly, I went into domestic mode and made some jam:



Queen Eleanor, King Marmalade and some confiture de pêches.

Peaches were $.99/lb at Stah, so went crazy buying. (If there's one thing I like better than eating cheap peaches, it's making jam out of them - ended up with 15 lbs worth of fruit.) Prepped stuff and sterilized the jars. Got about 1/2 way through before I had to clean up and head out to the doctor. Ended up with 15 jars, all of it slightly runny but jelled just the same.

Will finish the rest tomorrow. Then will have to go out and find more jars to start on the strawberries that I went wild over.

Took a walk along the Mystic over by the Wellington yacht club today to get out of the house for a bit. Saw and heard many wonderful things there. Will talk more about that later, though, as am wiped out and just want to curl up with Eleanor and her four kings right now.

(Good night.)

Sparks and loud pops on the train are fine if they stay outside the passenger area. Kind of neat, actually. Add a bit of piquancy to the commute.

Much less dangerous, too, than silly women who wear stilettos without knowing how to walk in them. The girl next to me (She was wearing nice flips that showed off a new pedicure. Made me glad I've not broken out my sandals yet. My feet need lots of work before they can be exposed.) was stepped on by a woman who lost her balance getting up for the next stop while the train was still moving. What a scream. What a scene. Poor thing.

Was glad to see our professor back again today, even if her arm was in a sling. Had every reason to be out last week, as apparently, she was in an accident and separated her shoulder. Hasn't been fixed yet; hopefully that won't be too complicated or traumatic.

Another victory of sorts.

If she really was there as some are reporting, what courage it must have taken to stand him down. Wow.