Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

The perpetual nature of my life is busy.  This fall no less.  Of course, the Lupus, a stomach virus (dear lord), and an ear infection with a side of vertigo wear distasteful . . . but, in the meantime the knitting needles click at night, on the subway, on ferries, in planes, on trains . . . yes, as I go they do too.  Instead of vegetating in front of a tellie, which I've never been capable of, I knit for an hour or two.  Of course, the desire to have sweaters that fit me in the shoulders and hips, scarves that are affordable to my vows of poverty salary in higher ed, and such . . .  So, in September or so I started duplicating one Chanel scarf .  And as I rotated between it and a sweater, it took some time.  Of course, as I was using yarn from my fantastical trip to the land of Anne Shirley last summer I really wanted it to be perfect.  Well, as good as perfect as I get.  Cabling without a needle hook  . . . I'd never done that bef...

Since it has been sometime since I posted lackadaisical nonsense . . . okay, not that long , but since the valley of life has thrown me to the weeds in a long, and an undeniable shitstorm of power and persuasion, I escape and release myself through fantasy and humor . . . and as we all know sewing.  Today, enjoy a sewing diversion of sorts. When I am 80 . . . indeed.  Just as I have a to-do list of things for today (like grade, write a letter, pay a bill, finish a lingering article, walk the dog, grade, grade some more, work on another lingering article, read a book for review . . . yawn stretch, are you tired yet?) I have a list of things to do when I am 80.  My bestie and I conference a few times a year, meeting around the globe in airports and hotels, to meet, relax, give talks, make articles, and plot the next one . . . and drink wine and eat chocolate of good quality and seek each city's epic sushi spot (in Amsterdam . . . we found a place, on a side street, that t...

As a girl, as many (most?) have in the Western World, I read Anne of Green Gables  with great flourish and glee.  The entire series, given to me for a birthday I think by my grandparents, was read more than once.  I remember some snotty little shits mocking me for it.  Yea, last I heard they didn't make it very far in life anyway . . . they've never been farther than Florida, think that sinners live in NYC, and the world ends past England and France.  Odd, I know . . . as the prefab furniture I bet they pour into their homes comes from IKEA, out of Sweden, and to them that country would be A) some foreign land and B) not worthy.  Yea, conservative memories of the Midwestern tween and early teen years still have dark strains.   C'est la vie.   As those reads of Anne Shirley went, back then I doubt I really grasped the nature and geographic locale of PEI.  Though, in the late dirty 30s I certainly do.  I was ...