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Archive for April, 2009

So while I collect my thoughts on Stitches South and catch up the rest of my life I’ve produced this little knitting ditty for your amusment. 

 

The yarn on the needles goes round and round,

Round and round,

Round and round,

The yarn on the needles goes round and round

All around the tootsies

 

The pattern on the socks goes up and down,

Up and down,

Up and down,

The pattern on the socks goes up and down,

From the toes to the heel and way beyond

 

The double point needles go click, click, click,

Click, click, click,

Click, click, click,

The double point needles go click, click, click,

All around the leg- 0h

 

Or for Magic Loopers:

The loop on the cable goes back and forth,

Back and forth,

Back and forth,

The loop on the cable goes back and forth,

All around the leg-oh

 

The wearer of these socks will dance a jig,

Dance a jig,

Dance a jig,

The wearer of these socks will dance a jig,

When the pair is done-oh

 

Who or what is responsible for this descent in to the ridiculous?  No I have not started knitting socks, it just happened that the song worked out better if it was about feet.  The real culprit is the Twitter Operaplot contest- check it out here– which challenges one to reduce the plot of an opera to 140 characters.  I find it has stimulated the sillier parts of my brain as well as the musical cachepot and this is what popped out after I’d wrung all the possible cleverness I could out of  the opera bits.

I haven’t started Twittering either- I still have the same technical difficulties but the contest organizer kindly made it possible to enter via a comment page.  For which I am grateful, really I am.

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Sit Down, Wanna Cry

I was sooo tired this week that I wanted to cry- and mind you, I am not much of a crier- when I had to get out of bed on Wednesday morning.  The opera is 3+ hours long and has lots of special effects which take an extra special amount of time to get right.   

So on Wednesday night when I got home at midnight- thankful that I had not nodded off on the drive home- I just grabbed everything out of the car in a big loose bundle:  knitting bag, notepad, jacket, etc.  I trudged to the door, juggled things around to unlock the door to my building, shut it behind me, and made for my apartment.  There was a soft shushshshshushshsh noise behind me, like someone dragging a cardboard box up the steps outside.  Funny, who would be bringing in a box this late?  I had a bit of panic thinking it might be someone with bad intentions but when I turned around expecting to see  someone at the door….. No, no one there.   I headed off.  Heard the noise again… realised something was pulling me…  looked at my feet…. saw string wrapped around my legs…. wondered where it came from… oh, I see… look it goes out the door … gosh, where did it come from… OH, I SEE… it’s attached to me… it’s, no… yes, it’s my yarn.  Wow, the end is on the other side of the door.  How did that happen?  I can just unwind myself… nope… unwind my bag… nope… go open the door and free myself…. well, no…  the yarn is now wrapped around both legs and I can’t walk…  I just looked at the yarn on my legs for a few seconds and decided I was stuck there.  I contemplated sleeping standing up in the hallway until some kind well rested person could free me  then I tried to push the yarn down off my legs.  Only I couldn’t reach because I was trying to hang on to my bundle of stuff while I did it.  I sacrificed the bags and dropped everything.  My knitting bag got hung up on my shoulder bag and spilled everywhere but was somehow still attached to me.  My water bottle rolled just out of sight where I knew I would probably step on it and the notepad went spat on the floor.  I tried to push the yarn off.  It clung.  The bag swung around and hit me in the head when I bent over. I considered chewing my legs off.   

When I finally freed myself and opened the door this was on the other side:

Yup, that’s my  yarn ball with leaves and twigs and probably, ick, bugs.  I would rather tear the project apart with my teeth than clean and untangle it.  I cut it off and started a new ball.  

I think that means I could have gotten the scissors out of my bag and cut myself free.  Only common sense needs a good night’s sleep to be really effective.  It probably worked out better this way anyway.  I could have poked my eye out with the scissors.

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I took my knitting with me to dress rehearsals.  I don’t, mind you, knit during the dress rehearsal because I am supposed to be noticing things that are not quite right about the costumes and writing them down so they can get fixed and well, it looks like I’m not really serious about my work if I’m holding knitting needles instead of a pen.  Also, I can’t knit in the dark; I make too many mistakes.  I can write in the dark mostly because I’ve had lots of practice.  Sometimes I can even read what I’ve written afterward.  

I do knit in the wardrobe room before the rehearsal starts because I usually have an hour or so to kill when I have to be available to solve problems but don’t always have to. I can get a good bit done as long as I stick to simple stuff.  That is if no one loses a costume* or has some other wardrobe trauma.  *Don’t ask me how this happens when the clothes  are clearly labeled and hung behind a placard with the appropriate performer’s name on a rack in the dressing room but some people….

So, I took the to-be-felted bag.  Rows and rows of stockinette, round and round.  Only I reached the part where I needed to differentiate between the front, back, and sides and my stitch count was off between the markers.  I needed to reset them before continuing.

I started counting:  4, 8, 12, 16, 20, 24, 28….

A singer came in with a request.  

I started counting again: 4,8,12,16,20…

2 wardrobe people arrived and began to discuss the traffic.

I started counting again:  4,8, 12, 16, 20….

Someone else came in looking for tape…

Me, again:  4,8,12,16,20, 24, 28…

and missing shoes… 

Me: 4, 8, 12, 16, 20…

earings…

Me: 4, 8, 12, 16, 20…

A dresser asked me if I’d had dinner.

Me:  Yes,  4, 8, 12, 16, 20, 24, 28, 32, 36……

Someone else asked what I was knitting.

Me:  I’m not, I’m counting.  4, 8, 12, 16, 20, 24….

Stage Manager on the loud speaker:  Does it even matter what she said?

Me:  4, where was I?  4, 8,  What?  Huh?  4….. count?   

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I’m in dress rehearsals this week for the opera and unless I feel so moved to write that I am willing to significantly decrease my window of opportunity to sleep- I won’t be spending much time here.

I made a valiant effort but so far motivation, a sufficiency of time, and a functioning internet connection have just not been present in the same place at the same time.  The ducks just aren’t  lining up- in fact- they’re running off in different directions while I run after trying to put them in a box with no lid.

I wanted to share a couple of wonderful events-

First- last summer I worked on a project for American Experience on Native Americans called  We Shall Remain. I’m very proud of the work I did on it and it’s a beautifully done series.  You can read about my experiences here and here. It airs on PBS, in most places on Monday.  (My local station shows it on Thursday) My episode will air the week of April 27.

Second- I just saw The Audition which is a documentary about the 2007 Young Artists Auditions at the Metropolitan Opera.  Ryan Smith, who died last November and was a beloved member of the Atlanta Opera family, was one of the finalists.  All of the singers are incredible and the suspense and tension of the film will hold your attention even if you don’t care about opera and already know the outcome like I did.  It’s American Idol with class.

I have to post a couple of pictures just because I spent too much time this weekend trying to get them to load.  !@#$%^ computer, !@#$%^ no wireless, !@#$%^ dial up

 

Looks like spring, don’t it?  It’s deceptive.  It snowed the day these were taken. Right now, it’s hailing.  Mother Nature, I think,  must be behind my ducks getting out of line.

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Ok, time to blog.  I can do this.

And just what makes you think that?

Well, I usually can do this.  I just need some uninterrupted computer time.

And that’s going to happen when?

Oh look!  Someone has posted a clever knitting quiz on her blog.  What fun!  I  can post a link to it- that won’t take very long.  It will be a short post but I’ll make up for it later in the week.

Later?  There’s already too many things to make up for later.

Well, I finished my scarf.  I could blog about that too.  I just need to take a picture  of it.

Then while I’ve got the camera out… I’ve been meaning to get some pictures of the trees in bloom… a follow up to all the pictures of trees I posted last fall.  I could get a couple of shots while I’m taking my evening walk…

Evening?  That’s, like, you know,  when it gets dark.  Too dark for pictures.

Well… maybe I could leave work a little early?

 Yeah?  How’s that workin for ya?   Like there’s nothing to do there?   You’re in production, get real.

And how about your granddaughter’s birthday gift- weren’t you going to stay late to finish it?

I know, I know, but I’ve been sewing all week and I just can’t sit at the machine another minute.  Gimme a break, OK.

Oh, hey…..   It’s cold again.  Wow… it’s like snowing out there.  I can wear my scarf!  I thought I’d have to just put it away til next fall.  I can blog about that!

Oh yeah?  What about the pictures?

Oh yeah, pictures…. go out, take pictures…  in the wind….  in the cold…  OH NOOOO…. the cold will kill the blossoms and the wind will blow them away!  Go now, pictures now!  Run.

Wait… hat, gloves, coat, scarf, camera…  Run.  Find tree in full bloom.  Frame shot.  Hit button.  Wait…

Camera:   replace batteries.

Why isn’t this working?  Hit button.  Wait… Why is the screen dark?  

Camera: replace batteries.

!@#$%

I told you to get more.  I told you to always have back ups handy.  Did you listen?

Alright then.  I will just post the link to the knitting quiz.  I will post again later.  When I have time.  When there are pictures.  Whenever.

Hit publish.  Walk away.  Let it go.

Give up.  It’s a no go. The link doesn’t work.

What?  The link doesn’t work?   That just can’t be right.  It was fine when I posted it?  !@#$%  What happened?  !@#$%  I will get this right.  I will, I will, I will…

!@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*

Fat chance.  It’s not you, hon, it’s the link.  Haven’t had such a good laugh in a long time.


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I believe I’m obsessed though…. or maybe posessed?

Go here, take this test.  See for yourself.   I scored 61%.  Mostly I think, because I don’t knit socks and carry them everywhere.   Clearly I can quit at any time but why would I want to?

Can’t really  quit blogging either only right now life keeps getting in the way and preventing it. 

I’ll be back….

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I have no coherent logical thoughts to offer at this time, just some random events and observations:

It’d been raining for what feels like 40 days and 40 nights now, except for Sunday when the oak trees decided to drop all of their pollen on my car at once.  The returning deluge on Monday and Tuesday have not yet washed it clean but I have hopes for Wednesday.

There were actually chickens in the road on Sunday- 6 or 7 hens and a rooster.  They did not actually manage to get all the way across the road before they realized the oncoming cars were moving objects and scurried back they way they came.  I didn’t stop to ask them why they might want to cross to the other side.

I wish I had had my camera with me and snapped a picture but alas, I was technology free on that occasion.  That’s because my cell phone is obsolete and doesn’t take take pictures.  My treasured but also obsolete PDA finally died and I am now working with out that safety net.  I am contemplating Blackberry but it’s not in my budget and I don’t want to have to figure out how to use it and while snapping pictures would be nice, I don’t want music and screaming [sic] video and all the other bells and whistles.  I know how to use my PDA.  I would say I know how to use my phone but really, all I know how to do is answer it and make calls.  I still don’t know how to add a number to my phone book with one button.    

My response to not wanting to deal with this is to walk around reciting the following mantra:  I am not a twit, I do not twitter.  Which is not intended as a reflection on those that do- I just like the sound of it.  Actually, I might just be a twit if I find myself stuck somewhere in desperate need of the numbers I have failed to load into my phone.  I suppose that will boot me into the current century.

One more random note:  Did you know they sell sympathy cards in packs of 6?  I find this a little disturbing.

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