I’ve been slowly trying to make decisions about redecorating around here.  Part of what is slowing me down is that I’m so freaking fascinated by the archaeological remains of Celtic culture that I get image hunting and then lose all interest in my poor little blog.  These are the kind of things that eat my time: The Met’s Year One Exhibition. 

Seriously–what are you still doing here?  You should be looking at this 3000 year old lovely lunette spear.  And this 2000 year old sword.  And this terret.  And who wouldn’t want this brooch?  And then I get a bit distracted by the pretties in other sections and find things like this Mesopotamian necklace from about 4000 years ago, and this Thracian beaker.  And then this helmet caught my eye, and then this Greek horse.  And then I go to the birds.  So while I’m working at working on making the site more beautiful, I’m not working to a deadline.  And incorporating any of the stylistic elements I’m drooling over is going to take some fu I haven’t mastered yet.  Which is going to keep me out of my studio and my garden.  So you see my dilemma. 

After seeing your responses about books, a trip to Heather’s new old house trumped all my good intentions to read whatever you told me to read right now.  I picked up my own copy of Louise Erdrich’s Love Medicine after I noticed that Heather had a pile of Erdrich’s books artfully sitting on a shelf–that’s a ringing endorsement from someone who is just moving in and has three kids in diapers.  It will go quickly and I’ll gladly chat away with her about what a good book it is, and then I’ll read what all y’all said I should, starting with Wayland Barber, and then probably Gabaldon (which one am I supposed to start with?), and then maybe Middlemarch.  I was trying to give some time for folks to answer but I needed a novel to read but quick.  The old Michael Chabon short stories I’ve been pecking at aren’t measuring up to his more accomplished, later work.  A girl’s mind needs sustenance in trying times, you know?

While I was in beautiful Catonsville, I got to circle up with the girls and eat delicious sushi and cake and fruit and such; and finish up my lovely Bearfoot sock; and sing the songs we sing, and then teach Heather some knitting basics.  Max, all of three years old, wants to learn too.  Except when he wants to jump up and down on the couch and watch a documentary on fire-fighters.  Caitlin and Alyssa just want their mean Auntie to let them walk up the stairs by themselves, now that they’re capable of saying several words and walking without having to grab onto anything for several steps at a time.  I’m demanding that the walking and the talking be simultaneous before I sign off on any solo stair-climbing on my watch.  Or maybe just some tandem "Aaaamyyyy"-ing.

I’m now halfway through this second pair of Bearfoot socks, and I’m having a hard time trying to remember why I ever planned to make socks out of any other yarn.  I’m also a little more than one full repeat through the Kimono shawl.  I think I’ll block it on the needles to convince myself that it will have the stitch definition I desire.  And I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever see the book in tangible form. 

Trackback URI | Comments RSS