Thankful for Grover

It's Thanksgiving in Canada, today.  And I am working hard on assignments and reading (no, I haven't really caught up - I've never been a successful skimmer, I pretty much have to read every word...) but on my way to my university log-in page, I travelled through the land of Yahoo! as a portal and lo' and behold:



Maybe because I'm fried or maybe because it's educational and my brain has turned to 'teacher'... But I think it's some friggin' hilarious.

So I am thankful for opportunities, my family and friends who are patiently tolerating my present but absent state of being, and Starbucks for being open when all buildings on campus were locked tight.

Next post:   Man, We Need Groceries Soup

Falling Socks

Little tip:  If you want to show off new socks, resist the urge to wear them immediately and wash them before photographing.  They look weird when you do that and not amount of faux-artistic photo-styling will make them look less lumpy.  :-)

My new rule for non-reading, non-eating time is that I have to keep my hands busy so I can get away with keeping up on a small handful of tv shows and movies without feeling like I'm wasting time.  I started these way back in August. At the time, I had just finished my chunky sweaters and moving from 10mm needles to 2.5mm needles almost induced second sock syndrome before the first was even finished.  It was painfully slow to me. I quickly began the second and proceeded to try that "two socks on one long circular" process.  Fiddly and seems to take a long time but I have two finished socks that are exactly the same size.  Phew!

***

I haven't been following my iFriends as closely as usual - I only seem to get blog time about once a week.  I am starting to manage my time better and have even polished off a few books.  Thanks for all the encouragement!  Some of my classes are fantastic; some... uhmmmm...  I will spare you the ranting.  I have  found myself on the general council for the student society, joined a number of committees, and with a school friend had a fantastic lightsaber fight with our phones.  I owe a few emails, and they are coming up. Right after my midterm. :-)

Have a great weekend!

After these messages...

...we'll be right back!

Yup.  The avalanche/onslaught has begun.

Tip o' the 'berg.  Tip.  O'. The. 'Berg.

Orange is for Organizing

Going back to school is a great excuse for finally cutting into my long-stashed Jessica Jones canvas.

In my getting-ready-rampage (and trust me when I say rampage…) I finally traded in my had-it-forever-never-really-bonded-with-it cell phone for a smarter one and picked up a few things to make traveling with technology easier.

Now I have a whole lot of messy accessories and am overwhelmed by faster technology so I had the incredible urge to kick it old school ( ha!) and sew my own cases and cover my headphones with zippers based on this tutorial.  Apparently I didn't take an after shot...  but you get the idea.  I get tangle-free headphones.  (Great project for keeping your hands busy if you're indulging in some DVD watching and don't want to feel guilty for not accomplishing anything since you're watching DVDs and not reading textbooks.)

For my Eco-foldy speakers:

For my home-based screen cleaner and cloth:

And for my screen and USB travel sets, one for my purse and one for my mammoth bookbag:

I made them up as I went along and pulled any button that would fit the lacklustre buttonholes...

Ah, tidy.  Nerd rep intact.

I also made a dress but I don't have a verdict on it yet.

Behind

I am later posting this than I had intended.

Try as I might, I can not successfully photograph this sweater by myself, in any light, or with help, since almost everyone I wouldn't feel strange asking to photograph me wearing a sweater, to show off the sweater and specifically the sweater, is currently in Montana.  Or white-water-rafting in BC.

So after three weeks of attempts, I resign myself to posting this one.  Just this one.

The front is straight and without much detail.  It's the back that really made me happy (and also makes me feel a little like Thandie Newton in The Chronicles of Riddick...)  What you can't see in the photo is that it's actually quite a dark brown, bordering on black, that the single ply wool, though gorgeous, will probably pill like the dickens, and that I screwed up the pattern.  I misread the chart and did the small cable repeats on every eighth row instead of every fourth.  I realized my mistake as I started the first sleeve.  Sleeves and pockets have the correct cable repeat...  I should've known it was knitting up too fast but I decided that 9mm needles will have that effect.  Very cosy.  And very simple to do, provided that you are literate, or at least paying attention.  I'm satisfied with the result

Vogue Knitting, Early Fall.  Twilleys' Freedom.  Notes:  I used way more yardage than the pattern called for even though I knit to gauge on the specified needles.  Then, since I had cleaned the yard shop out of Twilleys when I originally purchased the yarn, I had to wait several weeks while my favourite knitting shop tracked some more down for me. (Thank you, Charlene!)  One more thing you can't see:  the slightest colour variance on one and a half sleeves, two pockets.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes.  It was a happy birthday Monday for me!  I inhaled an angelfood cake.  No fork.  True story.  :-)

From Awful to Aaahhhh!-ful

I am in Edmonton and have discovered the perils of online hotel bookings.

At first, I drove up and found out that the difference between a good part of town and a dodgy one is less than a block.  Then I had that sinking feeling as I parked in the check-in zone and walked in.  It was dark and grotty.  It was dirty.  It smelled. The carpet was buckled.  There was a large tank of green water with what I can only assume were fish behind the algae.  The front desk staff, two of them, were both arguing with customers, one of which was an unattended child left to his own devices for the day.  In my writer's imagination, I'm sure I heard the crackle-snap of a dying fluorescent tube and a malcontented fly.  This picture illustrates the general impression it made on me, though the picture is far more cheerful:

I became uneasy.  My room wasn't ready yet so I left my bag at the desk and went to get the school clothes I was supposed to buy with some birthday money I got (Are you ever too old for birthday money? Thanks, Mum!).  I traipsed through stores I usually have success in but couldn't focus enough to really invest in much.  It was crowded, most of the salespeople gave the impression of being annoyed and almost everything I liked was over-budget or not available in my size.  And I kept thinking about that place...  And I knew I couldn't stay there.

Then the wheel spun back up and when I collected my bag from the [chain hotel to remain unnamed unless you're travelling to Edmonton, in which case, email me], the evening shift front desk clerk was very understanding and didn't charge me any sort of cancellation fee.  I think he sensed I might cry if he said I had to stay there, in Stabby Town.  (Yay for Gary!)

Needing to stick relatively close to downtown, I wandered a little over the river and found the Metterra on Whyte Ave.  Whyte is the loveliest artsy indie strip in Edmonton and if I hadn't been a half-hour drive from it when I lived in Edmonton, I would've had a much different relationship with the city.  The staff has been wonderful, the lobby is gorgeous, they have lovely little perks, I can walk to all the cool shops, restaurants, and my favourite little grocery store in the city.

At the end of a long corridor, I entered this beautiful and tranquil space.

The windows run the length of the room, the brightest and airiest hotel room I've ever had the pleasure of staying in.

There's even enough space to do yoga if I wanted to.  That is, if I weren't wearing the bathrobe and lounging on the comfy bed with tiramisu from the restaurant I had supper, oh so happy that I booked a grotty little room somewhere else.

This is the view:

The haze in the air is the forest-fires burning in British Columbia, not smog.  The smoke hit Saskatchewan two days ago...

And the powder room.

Because I know you wanted to know.

Birth of the Life - 100

I disappeared for a while, lost amid the transitions.  I was hijacked, distracted, and more than a little intimidated by the idea of a hundredth post.   For 100,  I had no desire to write about the latest sweater (though I will), about gutting my closet like the victim of a Roman campaign, a fabulous little meal from a borrowed kitchen and the hands of student chefs (though I will), or relate another anecdote from my button story (but it's coming).  Nothing seemed right to me.  It's a milestone, albeit a somewhat arbitrary one, and I felt the need to mark it.  And after running into an extraordinary teacher today in one of my favourite art gallery/cafes, I had the moment where I figured it out.

There was a sessional lecturer in the Department of Drama that used to teach a theory on breaking down plays, scenes and monologues.  To absorb a piece, it needs to be broken into manageable chunks.  The Birth, The Life, and The Death.  Easily identifiable but still too large.  So you take it further and each chunk has its own Birth, Life, and Death.  The Birth of the Birth, The Life of the Death, and so on.

I'd been in a funk and now I find myself in a swirl of creation and transition, and running break-neck trying to catch up.
I am winding down at the best job I've ever had and winding up to a period of intensity and learning.
I am two weeks from 32.
I am 6 days from the first anniversary of CitricSugar.
I am 4 and a half months from becoming an aunt (and the word from the ultrasound today is Nephew!)
I am no longer who I was _____ (then, before, ago, earlier, once, yesterday).
I am a woman with curlers in her hair.

I am passing out of the Death of the Birth and into The Birth of the Life.

My life.  And I can't wait to get to it.  I had focussed too much on what was already behind me.  The conversation I'd had at the cafe sparked ideas in my brain and sitting in my car after on-campus errands, it struck me.  Time to redirect my attention and ABSORB.  Embrace the metamorphosis!  (Not to imply that I plan on waking up as a beetle tomorrow....  Kafka, anyone? No?)  This is a transformative time and like a photo taken in a mirror, it's tough to get the right perspective.  But it's possibilities that excite me.

I always become a little introspective and often maudlin around my birthday.  As odd as it is to say, one must always remember the future.

You never put curlers in your hair for the present.  :-)

Thank you for joining me for 100 posts of CitricSugar.  Soon, one hundred and one...
Much love, Carly