The weekend of living dangerously

I wouldn’t take on blogging everyday for a month and then back down unless something really crazy happened. So here’s my excuse.

I had to go to the ER on Saturday night, we thought I had H1NI — yeah, seriously. But no, it was something else. Acute bacterial bronchitis.

My whole body ached, I couldn’t breathe, and therein lay the problem. Two symptoms down. After the diagnosis and the repeated “Do you smoke?” questions — “No, I quit, three months ago” — I got a breathing treatment of pure O2 and saline, some antibiotics, an inhaler and steroids.

What I thought happened: At the Mute Math show on Wednesday, we waited outside in the rain for 30 minutes before getting in. The place holds almost 1000 people, and believe me, they had to lock it down, so it was AT capacity. Of mostly underage Twilight fans. A bunch of drunken underage shitbirds. Also, waiting in the rain (where I stepped in a puddle), I put a two-year old black Hefty bag on my head to stay dry. It had been in our storage shed, since moved to the back of our car. It could have had eggs from some unknown bug growing in it and I inhaled — never inhale!

But my husband got sick today, and had to go to the doctor, so now, we have narrowed it down to contagious drunken shitbird Twilight fans. I can’t speak without choking, but am getting better slowly but surely. My husband has turned into big baby, but since he took such good care of me yesterday, I can return the favor.

Today, I laid on the couch and watched The Year of Living Dangerously on Indieplex. I saw it when I was 13 in 1982, my husband would like to make the claim that he did too, but I told him he at the doubleplex viewing of Porky’s and The Empire Strikes Back, so STFU.

I really loved that movie, Sigourney Weaver still looks great, lets be honest, but she was rocking the Ralph Lauren early ’80s look then. Love the frizzy curls, too. And say what you want about Crazy Mel, and he is crazy as a…drunken shitbird, but he had IT back in the day. And then there’s Linda Hunt. I do miss the ’80s.

Love the hat, and yes, she had a hatpin.

There's nothing like a simple Madras sundress.

Nothing not to love about an old Peter Weir film. Don’t even get me started on Picnic at Hanging Rock. Whenever that comes on, I can’t turn away. It’s the Zamfir pipes soundtrack, people! And the freaky Victorian sexual repression!

This is hard

Blogging everyday is going to kick my butt, but I’m going to post a quick link today. A fellow Ravelry member has a great new site for lefty knit and crochet, so here it is:

Wanzy’s Crochet and Knit

She’s super nice and I’ll be putting this in the sidebar soon.

Last night it was pouring rain, I had a garbage bag on my head, and some jackhole grab assed me at the concert.

I’m recouping.

What I’m…

Waiting for my husband to finish work (I miss work. I want work. A job, a job, my kingdom for a job. All I do is sit here and knit for hire and send off job apps…).
We are going to Fort Lauderdale to see Mute Math tonight. This will be our second time seeing them. They put on an amazing live show. I hope to get some video.

Other than that, I’m…
Watching:

Hsiao-hsien Hou is probably my favorite director, even surpassing Wong Kar Wai these days. This is an older one, I'm looking forward to digging in.

Jon and I were huge fans of Deadwood season one, and I bought season 2 but hoarded it. Now I have to sell it for some cash, and then I'll rent season 3 on Netflix. Ah, the beautiful language. If you're a fan, you know what I mean. Don't make me say it!

Reading:

I put it on the sidebar, but I'm working my through a lot of Sarah Dessen right now. I love young adult lit. It soothes the savage beast.

Listening to:
I can’t get this song out of my head…

I have about two more subjects that warrant blog posts and then I don’t know if I can keep this blogging everyday up for November. We’ll see!

Shopgirl

Two Sundays ago, Jon and I went to our local Green Market — the first of the season. It runs from late October to around late March, which is “season” down here.

Lately, I’ve been toying with the idea of going vegetarian, at least slightly vegetarian (maybe keeping fish on the menu). But then I eat this, and it all goes away, like a chimera.
I took this photo that morning, whilst eating. It’s a breakfast burrito with chorizo sausage and egg, no cheese. They usually put potatoes in, but they had run out. No problem! A little hot sauce and it’s the best breakfast ever, from a tiny authentic Mexican dive from around the way.

As for the hot sauce, I bought some from this place, and I will be back. I’ve already finished 1/4 of the bottle in two weeks. It’s THAT good.

The funny thing that happened that day was that I ran into someone who used to be a customer when I was a store manager all the way back in 2006, which is a long time ago when you think about it. I am thankful I don’t run into people I DON’T want to run into from my two former jobs now, but this was someone I actually quite liked.

A single mother with a teenage daughter who looked like Natalie Portman. I actually had a photo of her and I together on one of my old blogs, but it’s lost in the ether. They both loved learning to knit, and came in almost every day. But they weren’t two of those people who you didn’t want coming in, they actually made the day bearable and sunny.

The stopped coming long before I moved on, and we always thought they moved back to Maine. Turns out they didn’t. I only talked to the mother at the Green Market for about five minutes. I think when people see me in public these days, they don’t want to talk to me for very long — I can sense this palpable urge they want to run away! Fast! Do I seem too desperate to talk? Is that what living alone ten hours of the day does to a person? I let them leave, I don’t hold them hostage.

She couldn’t remember my name (called me “Tiffany,” but I get that and “Tracy” a lot) and it turns out they both don’t knit anymore, which is kind of sad. But hey, people move on. But I’ll always remember dressing her daughter up in a $5,000 Alexander McQueen sweater that one of our WORST customers wanted us to copy for her. Yep, that’s right — break down and decipher the pattern, so she could make it herself.

That’s what the old photo on my Typepad site was of — the daughter dressed in that thing. Fact of the matter was, the price tags from Saks were still on it, because she never had any intention of keeping it; she just wanted us to work it out for her so she could return it.

Funnier thing? When I was looking for jobs last week, this piece of trash had a listing for an assistant on Craigslist. This is a customer who told each of our staff to drop dead at one point or another.

Except me! I always pleased her. So maybe I should have tried for the job? I guess I was a better shopgirl than I thought?

The other interesting thing (I know, this is a LONG story) was that the first thing I felt the need to blurt out to this woman was that I had finally read her niece’s book. What’s that you ask?

Well, here’s the book:

Here Kitty Kitty, by Jardine Libraire

I bought this book in the Ronald Reagan airport in D.C., flying back from meeting my husband (then fiancé’s) parent’s a few years ago. It had sat in my book bag lo these years, since I never had time to read.

I mentioned it one day at the store, and the mother said her niece wrote it. I questioned her thoroughly, and turned it she was right. But I still didn’t read it until this summer. It was actually a really good book.

So that’s the story of the Green Market, the Alexander McQueen sweater, the mother and daughter who don’t knit anymore and the book about the New Yorker who slept around. A lot.

See you tomorrow, I’m having coffee with a friend and going to a Mute Math concert, my second.

November Blogging — First up, kids’ stuff

I’m going to try and blog once a day for November, it’s the NaNo Wri Mo or whatever thingie – I will NOT, however, be writing a book in a month, I don’t have that in me.

Read, or don’t, at your own risk. Some entries will be shorter than others. Some will refer to other blogs I admire. I may scan in more old pictures. And I may feel sorry for myself here in the Velvet Cage. I STILL CAN’T FIND A JOB, and if I can’t by the new year, may have to cash in my 401K. It’s come to that!

Today is not a good day, I am feeling bored, restless and sorry for myself, so I will showcase some images of the good and freaky side of childhood.

First up, a new line of clothes for Gap Kids care of Stella McCartney. People, I feel every one of my 42 years, and we can’t have a baby in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, but my ovaries are tingling when I look at these!

I love the redhead!

It's the bunnies — I die!

Secondly, I came home Halloween night drunk as a skunk, but my husband was still out elsewhere (We had dueling commitments) and I started blog surfing. I need to give props first to Leigh over at Bitch, Please and her Halloween Night of Horrors posts for pulling out the marvelous work of Jeffrey Thomas and his Twisted Princess series, which features some Disney Princesses in rather unusual circumstances.

Since I don’t want to repeat the ones she showcased, how about a little Princess Jasmine and Nala, from The Lion King? You know I love my big cats.


The full series can be found here. I just wish the prints were available.

Hopefully, I can keep this up and will be here tomorrow.

My favorite Halloween movie…

Yes, I sort of have one!

And FYI, I made Halloween cupcakes today — vanilla and orange icing. I would show pictures, but they’re messy. I only care about the flavor.

So, unlike what appears to be most of America, Halloween is not my favorite holiday. I can take it or leave it. I don’t much care about holidays. But if I had to name my favorite scary movie, it’s Neil Jordan’s early freaky deaky Company of Wolves. From 1984, and based on Angela Carter’s fractured fairy tales. She even helped write the screenplay.

The star, Sarah Patterson. If you check her IMDB page, the trivia says no one really knows whatever happened to her. Ah, mystery.

And you can't have a creepy granny without Angela Lansbury. Or a good Paul McCartney lookalike. Anyone else watch that recurring bit on Craig Ferguson? No? Just me?

A little dose of eroticism with the hunstman never hurt anyone.

And it does get scary.

Let’s face it, Little Red Riding Hood is ripe for reinvention.

I do sort of want to see recent fright fest Trick ‘r Treat, with Anna Paquin and one of my big crushes, Brian Cox (Again, THE ONLY HANNIBAL LECTER!!), but I get scared very easily.

At least this is a nice attempt at a costume, instead of the usual slut version.

If YOU’RE going as Little Red, please, wear a skirt, and not the Lady GaGa No Pants version. I went out at 10 a.m. this morning and already saw three girls at the hair salon in full-on Slutoween wear.

And for a great treatise on Company of Wolves, and fairy tales and sexuality in general, may I recommend this book?

Marina Warner’s treatise holds a place of honor on my bookshelf.

Maybe I will rack up more debt and finally go back for that master’s degree in Women’s Studies.

Thanks for being here for the journey with me this week. More observations on life next week!

Chantal and the white vest

Finished the white tennis vest today for my third publication. I don’t feel bad putting a photo up because:
a) Not a lot of traffic here
b) I’ve yet to pop the contract in the mail
c) I’m not sure I like it, and am not sure they will either. This one may be a bust. What say you?

I'm calling this one PALM BITCH. They can call it whatever they want...

We are a Nielson (TV ratings) family this week; but I haven’t turned the TV on all week except to watch DVDs. That will change tonight, but I do things by DVR. Last week I watched Masculin, Feminin — I love Criterion Collection films, especially for Goddard releases. And I love Chantal Goya’s look in this one.

Sadly, I can never rock this look...

Tomorrow it’s Two or Three Things I Know About Her.

And I just found out Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding has a Criterion DVD, so that’s worth a rewatch.

Off to the Tweetup in my best 1950s vintage dress, very Joan Holloway. I haven’t sold off all my clothes yet…

This is how we get by

JUST IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING WHAT GOES ON ALL DAY IN THE VELVET CAGE....

Aw, isn’t he cute? Here’s the thing: He will only snuggle with me during the day, when I’m reading. Not at night. I think it has something to do with the “sunspot,” and warmth. Not love of mother.

There you go. And that’s my sewing cabinet in the back, full of yarn to make hats and such with, that no one is buying on Etsy. Boo hoo.

So look, I’m working hard, I finished a pattern I have to have a photo due of by this Friday today – now it’s blocking and just needs sewn and trimmed. I’ll do that tomorrow. I’m working on custom orders. And I’m doing a lot of reading, but I’ll talk about that later.

I was hoping An Education (the movie) would come to town, because I want to see it and get my Alfred Molina fix (yes, I find him smoking hot, and yes, I have strange taste in men), but it’s totes not open in So Fla, so I’m stuck here at home.

Thrusday I’m doing a Tweet Up with honey, and those are always great for free food and liquour. But I need to lose five pounds. So maybe I’ll hold back on too much food and liquor?

Then, Saturday a good friend asked me to go to a concert with her, and even thought it is SO TOTES not my thing, I said yes, because friends is friends and here’s the thing: It’s one of those awful 80s package tours, with (I’m serious) REO Speedwagon, Night Ranger and Styx. And I said “yes” because friends is friends, VIP section is VIP section, drinks is drinks, and here’s the deal, in case I’ve never told this story, and I so know I have.

In 1988, I was a camp counselor in Alabama, at this horrific Christian camp in the mountains (We called it Jim and Tammy Land) and not only were the children of the country group Alabama there, but Tommy Shaw’s niece Corey was, and she was in my cabin and was a sweetheart. I always wonder what ever happened to her. Not like I will be able to shout it to the stage or anything (maybe if I’m drunk…), but considering I was cabin counselor for a bunch of bed wetters, rich girls with mink teddy bears, tattletales, and general malcontent baby bitches, it was nice to know a relative of a rock star was the only NORMAL one. Plus, she had cute freckles.

Here are some pictures of me as a camp counselor. For identification purposes, I’m the one with the overprocessed blonde curls and big boobs. It was the 80s.

I'm the one in the green shoes if the boobs don't give me away...

I'm the one with the big mouth...you get the picture.

More later!

Lil’ Ladies

I just got the smackdown on Facebook from someone on this, but I don’t care. Aren’t they the CUTEST THINGS?

Mattel presents Barbie 'Ladies of the 80s' — Debbie Harry, Cyndi Lauper and Joan Jett. I want Debs!

Pretty interesting that of all three, Lady Joan still looks the best.

So today, after three weeks of working on it, we cleaned out our storage shed and saved $70 a month. We went to the Green Market, and I’ll put a picture up of a yummy breakfast I ate tomorrow.

And as usual, I’m the world’s biggest football widow on Saturday and Sunday.

Sigh.

SCHMATTA

Coming up for air and realizing I’ve not posted in a while. I knit for money now, and that sometimes means 400 or more stitches on the needles for a ruffley scarf for someone else. Money is money.

I just re-watched Slumdog on HBO this morning, and the HBO documentary Schmatta this afternoon. If you have HBO, I highly recommend it!

I used to work for an idiot (we’ve established this!) who called everything schmatta without truly understanding the concept behind the Yiddish word. And I’m not even Jewish, people! But to really see where we’ve been and the jobs we’ve lost, this documentary is an eye opener. I have a confession to make: in all the sturm und drang of this year, I had been contemplating going back to school. I already have my B.A. in English, but I really wanted to go to a design college. I’m not shitting.

But seeing gifted pattern makers, designers, print designers — all who are in the same boat as me, about to run out of their unemployment, taking from their savings, losing their identity — oh well, maybe it’s time for a rethink. This is what happens when we send all the work overseas. That, and sweatshops, children working for .31 cents a day and fires in Bangladeshi factories. I’ll get off my soapbox now!

In my attempt to make things and sell them, I’m having little luck. The custom orders from friends and acquaintances keep rolling in, and for those I’m grateful. But it would be nice if my Etsy shop got some, any notice. Here’s what I’ve added in the past week (apologies if anyone already saw it on Facebook).




Sometimes I have to ask myself why I’m doing this, but the answer is simple: if I didn’t, I’d go mad.

I just get so frustrated when I see THE SAME DAMNED THINGS on the front page day after day, including this new trend of taking a bunch of scraps of yarn, taking a ring, putting said strands through, and calling it a scarf.

I mean, really. My cat could do that. Maybe I should get him crafting?