Why aren’t there anymore burnouts?

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When I was a kid, there were burnouts, and lots of ‘em.  You could find them around dumpsters, in alleys and sometimes in convenience store parking lost. They wore earth tones and smoked and didn’t seem to go in too much for grooming. They were mysterious.

When you called someone a burnout, it was an insult, but it was also an acknowledgement of their courage to cross the line, to be something that society at large clearly disdained.

Where are they now?

I have made a semi-concerted effort over the last month or so to look for them and THEY ARE NOWHERE.

They’re like the honeybees, only worse. They’ve completely disappeared.

This is why I’m proud (and really shouldn’t be).

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I wish there was a graphic for a fanfare, preferably Aaron Copland’s Fanfare for the Common Man, because if there was, I’d have you hearing it right now.

The curtains are done. Done. They look adorable, are relatively close to the same size as each other, and they are hung up in Amelia’s room.

Here is proof:

They took way too long, but here they are!

I really couldn’t be more pleased. The fabric we chose (mostly her but with an unsarcastic thumbs up from me) does a lot for the room, in which two walls are blue and two are green. That’s a healthy dose of red right there and it’s lively.

It should not have taken me four months. In retrospect, it was a 4-5 day project, but fear of the next step kept me from making progress. Then I’d get so fed up with my lack of progress that I’d convince myself to just do the next step and then stop. And so it was 5 days of work, spread out over 4 months of worrying and watching “how to” videos and being afraid I’d screw it up.

Next time I’ll do better.

Why does my geekness sneak up on me?

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Two incidents in the last week have cast my inner geekness in sharp relief.

First, although chronologically the second, I gave a full on, audible squeak of joy when I received an email telling me that the next season of Bones is now available for me to watch instantly on Netflix.  I started watching because I missed David Boreanaz, gradually grew uninterested in finding out who killed each episode’s victim, but remained tied to the multi-episode arcs of the main characters. Plus, it’s great to have on while knitting. I can catch everything by just listening. (Side note: I’ve finished my Christmas knitting [see below] and moved on to a delightful Christmas cross-stitch portrait of late East Coast rapper Notorious B.I.G.)

Secondly, and oh-so-much worse, here is a transcript of an actual conversation I had with myself while finishing said Christmas knitting, and watching X-Men 2:

If Wolverine counts as a non-human, I think he’d be my first choice for non-human fictional mate.
–Wait! That’s crazy. The Doctor, as played by David Tennant, would totally be number 1!
But what about Spike? Spike for sure. Season Six Spike.
–You’d take Spike over Angel? There are some days when Angel would really do the trick.
You are a giant 40-year old loser. Finish your knitting.

Which I did, but I didn’t stop pondering the question. And, since my need for a laugh far outweighs my concern for how people think of me, I slapped it up on facebook. The response was swift and enormous. Mostly from gay men, but from several other combinations of orientation and gender as well.  Captain Jack Harkness got thrown into the mix, although I think he wouldn’t qualify as non-human until after he becomes immortal.  I even got some background info on the genetic heritage of Wolverine.

Incidentally, if I was married to him, I think I’d call him “The Wolverine,” at least in public. It would be like being married to a Duke or a King.

“The Wolverine loves my lasagna.”

“The Wolverine has been getting home so late from work.”

“The Wolverine bought me the most beautiful sweater for my birthday!”

Interestingly, as the thoughts rolled for a few days, The Wolverine gradually lost out. The Doctor fell away–who wants to worry about regeneration?!?! And even Angel took a back seat. And that leaves Spike. Steamy, Season Six, Spike. Witty, tough, conflicted Spike. Unable to hurt anyone because of the chip, and with that clipped British accent. Winner winner chicken dinner. Unexpected bonus–I’d always look SUPER TAN next to him.

Why has this become my signature gesture?

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First off, it’s appalling that I launched this and failed to keep it up. I’m making a three week early New Year’s resolution to do better. As Ghandi says, or Ghandi’s wife, at least in the movie when they talk about him being celibate–it is a solemn vow.

I’ve noticed, of late, that the sarcastic two thumbs up has become my signature gesture. I use it to my kids, but not about them. If we’re talking about some fourteen year old that can’t lay off the chew I might use the gesture. It’s two thumbs up, obviously, but it has to be accompanied by a face that says, “Way to go, you asshole.”  It’s like a squinty eyed, smile-with-only-the-middle-of-your mouth, accompanied by a slight, fast double nod. Try it. See?

I use it most frequently to other drivers when they screw up or are rude. I’ve never been a big giver of the finger (I think this is because the first time I tried to give someone the finger–7th grade–I put my ring finger up–after much effort–and my intended victim, Jimmy Steele, yelled, “That’s the wrong finger!” as I rode away on my bike) and this gesture is a nice replacement. There’s something about it that makes me feel superior without being crass.

I’m going to look for more occasions to use it.

Why I’m excited.

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I’ve written before about how my creative endeavors, outside of writing,  are not particularly creative.  Knitting, my primary hobby, really just involves following directions. I have neither the skill or the drive to design my own patterns (other than the very basic) and mostly create beautiful fiber-work rather mindlessly. There’s satisfaction in finishing, but I rarely get the delicious “ownership” feeling when I finish a knitting project.

Well, I found a tangential process that might change that a bit.

I wanted to find variegated yarn of maroon and orange–the school colors of my boys’ high school. No one made it–at least no one this wool-only yarn snob would consider purchasing from.  I decided to make my own.

I’m a firm believer that I can learn anything, and, in this case, if I failed miserably, I’d wind up with a trash can full of yarn and a beautifully wasted day.

First step, find somewhere that sells RIT fabric dye.  Walgreens used to–no more. After poking around my usual haunts, I was directed to Hobby Lobby by another store’s employee.  Jackpot. (Incidentally, Hobby Lobby has never let me down. I herewith resolve to start going there first.)

 

I bought Wine and Sunshine Orange.  The Wine looked exactly right, the Orange looked somewhere between yellow and tangerine. It was, however, the only orange offered in liquid form, so my guess (and I guessed correctly) was that is was truly a basic orange.  I also bought ivory wool yarn–100% wool. Natural fibers dye well, synthetic fibers do not.

The first step was to boil a ring of yarn in a water/white vinegar solution:



Nothing on the RIT dye said to add vinegar, but every tutorial I read through mentioned it. I knew it couldn’t hurt, so I threw it in. I used old medicine dropper to drip the (undiluted) dye onto the yarn, after shutting off the heat and letting the water settle but not cool.

I decided on a four segment color pattern, basically orange at 9 and 3 o’clock, and maroon at noon and 6.

It looked pretty muddy, but I had only the money I spent to lose, so I let it sit. In retrospect, because of the pattern I was using (entrelac), I should have gone with a half maroon (say, the right side) and half orange (left). This would have created longer repeats and bigger chunks of solid color. I think I broke the two balls of yarn I had into 3 hanks each, so I did 6 pots of dying on the day.  Drying outside, and making me so happy, it looked like this:

The white stripes, if you can spot them, are the places that scrap yarn was used to tie the hanks together so they didn’t go all spaghetti-like in the boiling water. Next time, I’ll figure out a way to get rid of them, although I have bought hand-dyed yarn in shops and those lines are present more frequently than not.  It also smelled strongly of vinegar, but I gave it a wool-wash rinse after knitting and got rid of that.

I used the yarn to knit a scarf for a fundraiser for the boys’ high school. Here it is:

It took enough work, experimentation, and wondering on my part to make me feel like I really created it, and I’m needy enough to be excited about telling the person who gets it at the fundraiser that I hand dyed the yarn and the only place you can get more is my kitchen.

Why I’ve been so productive.

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The kids have gone back to school and my life has been consumed with craft.

Here’s the sweater I’m working on:

Top down, largely stockinette, little bit of interesting lace in the front–enough to keep me engaged, but not too tricky that I can’t watch Sons of Anarchy while I knit.

Here’s some stuff I’m making to sell:

These baby hats will get decorated with stars and ornaments and make me $20-$25 buck a pop.  Totally mindless, easy to finish one in a day, they make me feel excited to trade my skills for cash.

Finally, Amelia and I went yesterday to pick out curtain fabric for her room. Here it is:

I’m not a great sewer, but the great sewers I know say curtains are the easiest.  So that’ll be launching in the next few days.

As stunning as all this is, though, the truth is there is no creativity in this kind of productivity.  It’s just following directions, taking steps, reading and doing.  I feel like I’m just killing time waiting for my next great idea. And it’s been years (literally, as the last script I finished was an adaptation of a novel) since I had an idea I got excited about.

BUT—last night when I was awake from 4:20-5 a.m., the magic happened. An idea that I’ve had for months glued itself, in my head, to a story I sort of know that happened to someone I met once or twice. I’ve known the story for years, and like I said, the idea is not new, but neither of them on their own could make a play. Together, they are something.  Today I called one of the people involved in the story, which for the play will have happened before the curtain rises, and got some details. I bounced the joint ideas off of someone I trust, someone I knew wouldn’t bombard me with suggestions. He was kind enough to say, “My mind is just racing through all the different possibilities and directions this could go” without illuminatin a single one.

I can start writing tomorrow if I want, although I may wait a day or two to  see if the snowball can get any bigger just rolling around my brain.

This is the writer’s rush, and it’s the most exciting feeling.

Why you’re glad I’m not your mom.

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“I hate the chart!!!!”

Okay, maybe the volume and emotion with which Cal actually said this do not merit four exclamation points, but to me, it felt like a letter opener being shoved in my ear.

How can you hate the chart? It’s color-coded, contains all pertinent information, and the spacing is so nice you would think I used an actual ruler instead of the cardboard from the back of a pad of graph paper.

“I’m only going to one school.”

Right! But isn’t it encouraging to see all these schools who would like you to come?

“Can we start crossing some off?”

Yes, we can.

But instead of actually, physically, blacking out rows of the chart (sigh of relief) we sat down and chose four schools that would be priority contacts for Cal. He is now responsible for keeping in touch with these four coaching staffs. He no longer feels obligated to return every call that comes in, which is a huge weight off of his shoulders, because the conversation with a coach from a school you are probably not going to attend is really scripted and not at all useful:

Do you have any questions about Joe Blow U? (Not really.) When can we get you down for a visit? (Probably not ever.) You can really put the ball in the basket! (Thanks, I work very hard at that.) I think you’re set up for a great senior season. (Me too. Thanks again and goodbye.)

He wanted to have his decision made by the time the season started, around Thanksgiving. That is seeming unlikely. But we aren’t adding every new school to the chart anymore. We’re screening the new ones before they get put on.  This will help keep him from feeling overwhelmed.

And maintain the integrity of the chart.