Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

137.  137 is the number of items I made this year. I know. Want to know the real number? 177.  I know! 137 is the base number, 177 includes, well, baby pants, a handful of plaintain tees (as in the ones of cotton and not my wool knit on that I love), panties (the "test" run ones and the patterns that work oh so well), those Mabels of summer and fall that got a wee bit smaller as the swimming and running laps toned me, a few run of the mill renfrews, and many briars. Dude. Let's just say I knew that number was up there, but when I went through my notebooks and made the final tally (pawing through the pages three times to make sure I wasn't over counting) my mouth fell open.  Yea, I know. Though, I ran my fifth half marathon this year, went to five countries, finished three articles, taught an unholy amount of courses . . . just so many, presented about six conference papers (which two more are being converted to articles and book chapters these days), wro...

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...