My Life Lately, or Why I Am Not a Cake Decorator

Tomorrow is my friend Darrel's birthday, and, by request, I made him a red velvet cake tonight. I have no idea how it tastes, but I can tell you that it's a good thing my only career option wasn't cake decorating, 'cause I would be a professional failure.

I'm a great cook, and quite a decent baker, but not so hot at the frosting writing thing. In any case, Happy Birthday to Darrel. You are a wonderful friend.



That's a lousy picture of some really fabulous earrings. I love them. I got them at The Laughing Buddha on Capitol Hill. They're some rockin' dudes, also... highly recommended.



New sock yarn, hand-painted. Claudia Hand Painted Yarns. Quite yummy.



My daughter is BEAUTIFUL. Observe.

This Post is for DanZ

Dan complained, accurately, that I had not posted since December. I actually have a few things to say and had been meaning to blog, so his complaint was well-received and here I am, blogging.

First, I will answer his question about my sweater. It bit the dust rather unceremoniously when I realized that the gauge was off by a half-stitch per inch. This had NOT shown up when I swatched (made a small test square with the intended yarn and needles), but it did show up about six inches into the sweater. I cannot express enough how glad I was to have discovered it when I did.

I am, however, making Ben a sweater. It's basically made out of thick sock yarn, if that gives you any idea about the size of the stitches. I'd say that the back and the front (which is a mere few inches away from completion) are worth a few pairs of socks right there. Yeah. It's taking a long time, and I wish I could show you, but so far the pictures I have taken aren't worth shit. I shall persevere and hopefully soon I'll have something beautiful to show.

I vary between contentedly knitting the sweater and staring balefully at it from across the room, sure it will never end. In those moments, I have been knitting socks. Socks are like a sexy summer fling on the beach, and sweaters are like marriage to someone you thought you loved until you realized that "forever" is an incredibly long time...

Or at least that's what I've heard while watching those court shows on TV. You know, when you're knitting while the baby and the dog sleep and husband is at work, the house gets really quiet. I can't really handle too much silence, as anyone who has met me will tell you, so I've been turning on local TV stations. That's a real bummer, since the only things on are court TV shows. Throughout my life I've wondered how it is that I have such beautiful, smart, kind, loving, creative, and all-around divine friends when I know there have to be enough stupid people in the world for the average IQ to be 100. I found the people throwing the curve way, way off: they're on court TV. Apparently they've managed to find each other and stay the hell out of my way, so I have sort of been counting my blessings. Plus, I think maybe some of the techniques the judges use might help me settle sibling disputes later on. Probably not, but perhaps.

So Olivia is 6.5 mos. old and she's already learning to talk. On Mother's Day she said "Mama" for the first time, and now she's realized that if she wants something, she can call me and I'll most likely get it for her. If she's with Ben and for some reason she wants me, I'll hear her yell really loudly "Mamamamamamamama" and hearing her little voice hollering makes me really happy. She loves food, clothes, yarn, music and her father, so so far we have a lot in common. I caught her dancing to rap music the other morning, though, and I had to have a few words with her. KEXP, the independent and phenomenal Seattle station plays anything that doesn't suck, and a few things that do suck. Thus the exposure to rap... But the child has her rights.

So I keep losing weight because of the breastfeeding, and it's not like I'm a stick or anything, but I've stopped wanting to buy pants because they just keep falling off. I like being slender again, but I hope soon my wardrobe can consist of more than wrap skirts, dresses and yoga pants. Does anyone like taking in clothes?

I was talking about being tired of having no one to socialize with, and then my cool new hairdresser (also a young mama) gave me her number so we could hang out, and I ran into this cool lady I met when I first moved to Seattle and she wanted my number to hang out. I have a friend coming over on Friday, and I tell ya kids, things are looking up.

That said, if anyone has money for an air fare and is stuck for ideas of places to visit, Seattle is awesome this time of year. There's tons to do, and lovely old ME to do them with, so get yer butts up here.

Questions?

Floods and Revisited Ideologies

Yes, it flooded in Seattle. For those of you Napa readers, you have to understand that this doesn't often happen up here. They said it's been years since the last flood, so it's not like Napa where they just expect it and trudge along cleaning up after it. Not only that, but the roads and topography here don't do so well with floods, so cars were falling into sinkholes (when they weren't driving straight into floodwaters--brilliant) and houses were having their foundations washed out from under them. I believe only two people died (which makes me feel really gross just saying that; I realize it's not ONLY two, I do). Ben and I were fine, though Ben says things at KOMO were somewhat frantic because the camera operators didn't seem to realize that allowing the cameras and microphones to become waterlogged would be a problem. One of them brought him a mic that wasn't working, so Ben picked it up and shook it. "Slosh, slosh."
"Did this mic get wet?"
Shrug. "Maybe. Yeah, I guess."
Ben shook the mic, hard, upside down, and water came spewing out of it. Lovely. One down, twenty to go.

And that's all about the flood. If you want more info, follow the KOMO link above.





The World's Religions by Huston Smith is my current great love. I read this book last year around this same time, and I broke it out again because I'm reading at the speed of light, which, like knitting quickly, is really hard on the budget, not to mention the bookshelves. I wandered out to the bookcases at midnight the other night while walking Olivia (if you've ever tried to put a baby to sleep, you'll know what I mean, and if you haven't, never mind; your time will come) and, perusing my Religions shelf, saw my beloved book. Having recently reread The Prophet and finding my jones for philosophical meanderings hardly quenched, I returned to The World's Religions.

Read it. Really. I understand that it's one of the main go-to texts for comparative religions courses, but don't let that discourage you. It is hardly dull, and certainly doesn't read like your average textbook. For me, the magic of this particular book is that Smith manages to present each faith in its most glorious light. As I read each section, I became slightly in love with the faith it discussed. "Why, he's right, Hinduism is FANTASTIC!" "Wow, I never thought of Mahayana Buddhism like that!" "Okay, maybe I do want to be Christian. What have I been thinking?" If that sounds like too much of an emotional roller coaster for you, at least read it because it will stretch your mind in about ten different places. Moreover, in a country where Christianity is the norm and other religions usually seem a little strange and foreign, the opportunity to slip into another person's skin for a moment and really see things from their perspective is invaluable. Also, Smith is careful to present each faith in its correct cultural setting, which may seem simple until we realize that half of the Bible is misunderstood today because a cultural understanding of "our own" Scriptures has been sadly underemphasized.

A perfect example:
[Referring to Jesus and those who heard him speak]

"They were astonished, and with reason. If we are not it is because we have heard Jesus' teachings so often that their edges have been worn smooth, dulling their subversiveness. If we could recover their original impact, we too would be startled. Their beauty would not cover the fact that they are 'hard sayings' for presenting a scheme of values so counter to the usual as to rock us like an earthquake."

And as I read the evidence he presented in support of this claim, I had to seriously consider rereading the first three gospels as if I had never read them before. Having grown up reading the Bible every single day for at least fifteen years, I truly believe that I am numb to most of it. However, a friend of mine, Brian LePort, who has been studying the Bible in its historical context for years, has stressed that it is foolish to discount any portion of the Bible without fully understanding it. Admittedly I have neither the energy nor the motivation to return to school to study the Bible, there are specific questions I've always had that might finally be answered if I would get off the dime and do some scholarly digging. What to do, what to do...


I trust this explains why I've made only minimal progress on the sweater. That says it all right there; this book is so exciting that it has pulled me away from knitting!! If that didn't provoke a collective gasp, then I'm damned if I know what will.

Snow, Sweaters and Baby

So there's the snow! December 1, snow in Seattle. Those who wonder at my excitement need only to know that until recently, I had lived in Northern California my whole life, and it really didn't ever snow. I think the closest we got was a light drift that left a slight sheen on the ground for less then five minutes. Anyway, when it started snowing this afternoon, I felt like I was six years old and school had just been canceled. It was a pretty amazing experience. I just sat there staring out the window, my mouth hanging open... Yes, I'm sure I made a very attractive picture in my PJs and messy hair... In any case, this has been a very exciting day for me.

In other news, I am making a sweater. Yes, I know, I swore I never would, but I am. I can't tell you what will become of it, but here it is so far:

I'll continue to take photos of it as we go, although I realize that for any non-knitters (or non-sadists, since the sadists will doubtless flock in droves for this) out there, the promise of updates on a sweater may not seem interesting, but wait until the hair-pulling and swearing begins. Things will get interesting, doubt it not. Already I've researched the difference between the bar increase, which the pattern calls for, and the make one increase, which is the one I like to use. I don't like the bar increase because it leaves bumps, or "bars" on the front surface of the knitting. Interestingly enough, that's the exact reason the pattern called for it. I think patterns are like recipes, and if I don't follow recipes exactly, I'm sure as hell not going to follow a pattern with any more loyalty. I figure I'm the one who'll be wearing the sweater, right?

And just for the hell of it, here's a picture of the baby as she looks sleeping next to me right now...

I'm ridiculously in love with this girl...

Merry Fucking Christmas

I've tried for a day and a half to think of a different title for this post, but in all honesty, that's the only one that fits my feelings and opinions of this holiday season. I apologize to my readers who have delicate sensibilities. Stick a post-it over the screen and move on.

Every season I whine and complain about how much I hate Christmas, and every year, well-meaning friends and family give me advice on how to get over it and embrace the true meaning of Christmas. Well, let's see... I have no problem commemorating the birth of Christ, even though I may have a problem with what happened in the 2,000 or so years after he died, so that isn't the issue. I'm all for family togetherness, even though that doesn't actually seem to be all that prevalent during this blessed season. Red and green, although not my favorite color combination, don't immediately drive me into a blinding rage. True, I hate the commercialism (who doesn't); I'm making most of the gifts that I'm giving this year. (I don't think the yarn companies are complicit in the evil schemes to sell things at Christmastime. I won't think so. The new patterns that keep bombarding my email inbox are a total coincidence. "Ten best patterns for Christmas gifts! Hurry and buy now! You know you'll need a month to finish this sweater, honey!") I am annoyed by how catty and jealous family members can start to become. "What? But you promised to spend ALL of Christmas with US. We don't want to share you with the three other branches of your family!" As if the only family togetherness that matters on Christmas is their own. Everyone gets so damned stressed and grouchy. For me, it's already begun; my mom is flying up here to Seattle for Christmas, and I'm working out those details. Already it's required calls between family members, discussions about ethics, predictions of anger and blame, and pleas for preventive intervention. I'm really not cut out for this.

But here is my sad confession: when I think about what bothers me the most about Christmas, what steps forward to take center stage are the damn carols. That's right, the cheesy renditions of "Jingle Bell Rock" and Mariah Carey's unbearable "All I Want for Christmas" are what cause me the greatest anxiety. Ben and I went out for dinner the other night (Olivia in tow, yes) and they seated us right under a speaker. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but this speaker was BLARING the afore-mentioned putrescence at an intolerable volume. My skin started to crawl almost immediately, and I asked our server if they wouldn't mind turning it down a hair. "Oh, sorry hon, wish I could, but that control panel's in the office and no one has a key right now." Of course. My perfect husband arched an eyebrow, silently scanning me. "Can you stand it? Do we need to go?" his eyebrow asked. I was stoic and decided that instead of leaving, we'd have such a brilliant conversation that I wouldn't even notice the speakers. We ended up comparing the merits of cheesecake to the decadence of the brownie. Sadly enough, that did it for me. I was fine.

But really, how depressing is this? I'd probably make it through Christmas just fine if every speaker wasn't hijacked by awful music for a month and a half (minimum). I mean, what they're playing to begin with is usually pretty awful, but it's normally at a level where you can tune it out, and the themes vary: love lost, love gained, love unfaithful, love in the sexual sense, love in the sexual sense, love in.... well, yes. At least it's SOMETHING.

My usual compatriot in all things, even hating Christmas, is my grandmother. When the season started, I called her to have our usual very short bitching session entitled "Here We Go Again With the Christmas Tyranny." This year, though, I got an unpleasant surprise: "Oh, come on now. You have to make things fun and pleasant for Olivia."

Oh. Really. Do I. Well, this baby is only three weeks old, and I'm sure she'll be FINE if I am NOT enthusiastic about Christmas. next year, things will really be on the line, but give me my freedom just this one last time to be a total grinch. Please. I need this.

That said, this probably will be my last year to freely complain. To those of you who really enjoy this time of year, I am both envious and disgusted. Enjoy your trees and tinsel.

The Value of Perspective

I'm always hopeful that someday I'll start writing again. Really. I've only had writer's block for four years; I'm sure it'll go away soon enough. To that end, I'm beginning a new blog. If motherhood can't get me out of this slump, nothing can!

Also, I've been reading a lot of David Sedaris lately, and his writing allowed me to realize that many of the crazy life situations I've been dealing with the past twenty or so years are actually funny. Rather, I find them funny, and that's all it will take for me to enjoy writing about them. On the other hand, I may be the only one involved who finds them funny; many of the other paricipants in my life take my life very seriously, at least as it pertains to THEIR life. I really wish I could be like Mr. Sedaris and say "sorry friends and family, but that's what happens when you give birth to/are a sibling of/are friends with me," but I'm not sure if I'm there yet.

Is this going to require a private blog, then? We shall see.

My daughter, Olivia Irene Ganger, was born November 3, 2007. She's an extremely content little thing; she already sleeps through the night, and when she does awake, she's quiet and smiling, usually only wanting a quick snack before she settles back into sleep. Perceptive readers (who can also count) will notice that this is slightly unusual behavior for a child her age. I confess that I had expected a furious infant who howled through diaper changes, baths, quiet moments and loud ones, so I hadn't thought that I would have much free time. As it is, today I've socialized with friends, taken my dog for two walks, done two loads of laundry, spent a (better undisclosed) bit of time online, and talked with a few people on the phone. All this has been accomplished while my little one slept or cooed happily in her sling. Maybe this is just one of the benefits of wearing Olivia cradled against me rather than plopping her down in her crib for sleepy time, but however it's occuring, I'm grateful. With some of this unexpected free time (which will last until she starts wanting to crawl), I'm going to knit up a storm and blog a bit.