This is astonishingly accurate.

You’re Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland!

by Lewis Carroll

After stumbling down the wrong turn in life, you’ve had your mind
opened to a number of strange and curious things. As life grows curiouser and curiouser,
you have to ask yourself what’s real and what’s the picture of illusion. Little is coming
to your aid in discerning fantasy from fact, but the line between them is so blurry that
it’s starting not to matter. Be careful around rabbit holes and those who smile too much,
and just avoid hat shops altogether.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

So where’d June go?

June was an eventful month, but apparently I didn’t think anything was worth blogging about. Not even our second wedding anniversary (we ate at Belga Cafe–yum!–and are gifting ourselves with a trip to the US Open in New York in September, if it works out). Or our move to Capitol Hill. Actually, I still feel like we’re in the moving process–our apartment (which, incidentally, is about 200 square feet smaller than our last one. They didn’t have the exact numbers when we were looking at it, and apparently we’re too optimistic for our own good) is still stacked high with boxes, and nearly every trip out of the apartment seems to involve a ten minute game of find-the-[fill in the blank]. Usually that’s shoes or bike helmets. My brown Simple sandals, which I wear almost every day, seem to have disappeared just when I thought things were finally getting better. At least I have my cute pink pair, which nicely match my burgundy toenails, to fall back on.

My parents came to help us move. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without them–our excessive optimism caused us to seriously underestimate the amount of help we would need for the move. I sense a theme here. We did have a friend of Adam’s from work to help us, but we could really have used another two or three helpers. Our friends Markus and Stephanie are moving to Indiana next week and have hired movers. I think we’re going to have to go that route next time. I’m certainly not subjecting my parents to another ordeal like last weekend.

Tomorrow we’re leaving for a week-and-a-half trip to Iowa. It should be relaxing, although I have a few big projects that will require work while we’re there. Mom and I are going to dye two giant hanks of KnitPicks Dye-Your-Own yarn with Kool Aid. We have lots of ideas for colors. I’m taking along the yarn, needles, and pattern for Adam’s Avast sweater, for which I still need to achieve gauge. We’re also having a surprise something for someone which I am sure I will write more about later. Probably in August or September, given my track record.

We’ve also been going for lots of bike rides this summer, including a 40-mile ride to Mount Vernon and back. That was really a lot of fun and I hope we’ll be able to make that one a couple more times this summer as well as exploring more of the other trails in the area. I love my new bike, a very charming Bianchi Advantage. Here I am riding her toward the Capitol:

I do not generally wear sandals while biking, and I’m not sure why I was wearing them on this particular day. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the “18″ on the back of my shirt is for the 18 miles of books at the Strand Bookstore in New York. I mean, seriously, what else could it stand for?

I also finally finished my six swatches for the Walker Treasury Project. I was not well pleased with how some of my photos turned out, especially the Mock Wave Cable and the Inverness Diamonds, but I hope I’ve learned some lessons with this batch. I’m going to try to request a few more when we return from Iowa.

I have loads more that I could write about, but it’s practically morning, I haven’t slept yet, and I have three loads of laundry to finish before I can finish packing. Good thing our flight doesn’t leave until early evening.

Well, this once-a-month thing seems to be working

Today was a great day. Not only did I get to go for a ride on my one-week-old bike (more about the new bike on Sunday), but Adam and I also discovered a new bookstore on Capitol Hill.

First, we made a quick once-over of the cozy, tidy main level, which had comfy chairs and the perfect ambiance for a bookstore. At the back of the store, I was in the midst of quickly perusing the fiction selection before moving on to the basement when I heard Adam say, “Hey, aren’t those–”

I turned around to look, and what did I see? An orderly row of dovegrey-and-cream spines, which could only mean one thing: books from my favorite publishing company ever. I gasped audibly and was momentarily immobilized by sheer joy. Adam may have tried feebly to distract me (Adam knows firsthand how irrational I can get around Persephone books) in an effort to prevent me from breaking our bank account into a million insolvent pieces, but I managed to bring three lovelies home with me on the basis that our wedding anniversary is a mere one month away and Adam’s life is much easier when I choose my own gifts (this includes engagement rings.) I’m pretty sure I made the bookstore clerk nervous with my excessive enthusiasm, but he seemed like a good guy anyway and I’m sure I will be spending many hours in that store after we move to southeast (it’s also blocks from Lincoln Park, one of our other favorite Capitol Hill hangouts).

Plans for the rest of the weekend include a trip to donate my old bike to Bikes for the World tomorrow and a bike trip to Bethesda and possibly beyond on Sunday. Does our weekend have a theme? Oh, and also more packing, of course.

New stuff

Wow, so I started this blog to polish my writing skillz, and I hardly ever write in it! I don’t think just having the blog is enough. I need to get that through my head.

Anyway, one of my goals for my 28th year was to be more adventurous and take advantage of more of the cultural (and other) opportunities in Washington. So far, we haven’t been doing too bad. Here’s a list:

1. We participated in our first demonstration/rally/march/whatever for voting rights in the district. You can see more info at DCist. I tend not to be too political–I consider myself to be an Independent, although according to several online quizzes that I’m sure are highly accurate, my beliefs are most in line with the Libertarian party (i.e., don’t tell me what to do and I won’t tell you what to do, although I’m not naive enough to think that a society that adhered to Libertarian policies could really be that successful)–it would be nice to vote just once while we live in the District and know that it means something.

2. We visited the Treasures of American History display at the Air & Space Museum. I was very disappointed when I found out that the American History Museum would be closing for renovations, but it turns out that it’s supposed to reopen next summer. This is good news because it’s one of my favorite museums in DC. In the meantime, though, some of the most popular exhibits are on display in a corner of the Air & Space Museum. We saw the ruby red slippers, R2D2 and C3PO, Kermit the Frog, one of Mary Todd Lincoln’s gowns, a Prince guitar (the highlight of Adam’s year), and Mr. Rogers’ sweater, among other American treasures. The latter, although one of the simplest items in the exhibit, was one of my favorites because it brought back so many memories. Mr. Rogers used to be my favorite show. I can remember rushing to the basement after returning home from kindergarten and turning on the TV to catch the opening strains of “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood….” One of the best things about Mr. Rogers was that he seemed to always know what I (and probably most other 5-year-olds viewing his show) was thinking. I remember during one show, he visited a brain surgeon. While they were discussing the process of brain surgery, I thought, “I hope they can’t see what you’re thinking when they operate on your brain!” (Even then, privacy was extremely important to me.) Not 30 seconds after that thought occurred to me, Mr. Rogers asked the surgeon, “When you operate on someone’s brain, can you see what they’re thinking?” Mr. Rogers was an intelligent man, and I’m sure he knew the answer to that question before he asked it. But he knew that, somewhere out there, at least one 5-year-old was concerned about her thoughts being known to a roomful of medical personnel, should she ever require brain surgery.

Anyway, enough rhapsodizing about Mr. Rogers. One other display we saw in the Treasures exhibit was one of Andrew Jackson’s uniform jackets. If Mr. Jackson had been present at the museum the day we were there, I’m not sure he would have been happy, because the prevailing discussion around that display was about how tiny he was. One woman even said, “That jacket wouldn’t fit my 11-year-old!” To put this into greater perspective, I’m sure anyone who reads this blog knows Adam. That jacket would not have fit around half of Adam’s chest. Next time someone comments to me about how skinny Adam is, I’m going to say, “Yeah, but you should have seen Andrew Jackson!”

Oh, and also at the Air & Space Museum, we grabbed a snack at the world’s busiest McDonald’s. I’m not sure that belongs on this list, but it was quite an experience nonetheless.

3. On Wednesday night, we went to the Penn Quarter Olsson’s to see Heather Ewing talk about her new book about James Smithson. If you are at all interested in the history of the Smithsonian, you’ve got to learn more about this enigmatic man who left a huge bequest to the United States (where he’d never even visited) upon his death for no apparent reason except that he wanted his name to be remembered. The talk was fascinating and I’m waiting for the book to come in at the library. I really considered buying it, but we are currently preparing to move and already have so many books that I could hardly bear the thought of bringing one more (hardcover, no less) home with me. Maybe I’ll pick up a copy after we move.

This weekend we’ve got more adventures in store: a concert at the Library of Congress tonight, if we can get tickets; several walking tours, including Georgetown, Embassy Row, Capitol Hill, Penn Quarter, and one that outlines DC’s German heritage; a talk by Doris Kearns Goodwin at the National Archives; and a photo scavenger hunt organized by our friends Marcus and Stephanie. It’s going to be a busy weekend!

Here I am!

Adam has reminded me to update my blog. Yeah, yeah, ok. I blame my slackerhood on a busy (but fun!) birthday weekend and horrendous seasonal allergies that started just a few days after I had finally gotten over a cough/two-week-long cold, not to mention other obligations like, you know, work. But I should be back on the (band)wagon soon!

Parenthood

I was just reading on an online forum about a woman whose father yelled at her over the phone for not getting her car fixed quickly enough after having been in an accident. The discussion soon moved on to fathers and their tendency to yell at their offspring, especially about car-related issues.

The whole discussion reminded me of something that happened on the day before I started my senior year of high school. I was driving one of my parents’ cars to work an afternoon shift at a daycamp program for kids in kindergarten through sixth grade. My coworkers were also high school students, so I called ahead to offer to pick up lunch at the local Chinese restaurant as a last-day-of-summer treat. As I backed out of my parking spot after picking up the food, another car was also backing out. I thought that car was going to hit me and panicked, stepping on the accelerator while in reverse and plastering one side of the front of the car into a utility pole.

I sat there stunned for a few seconds, then tried to pull away from the pole, but the car wouldn’t budge. I pulled out the cell phone (one of those old phone-in-a-bag numbers) and called my mom. I knew I should call Dad because he had the other car that day–I’d dropped Mom off at work–but was afraid to call him, convinced that he’d yell at me. When I got Mom on the phone, she confirmed what I already knew: I’d have to call Dad.

By this point, I was nearly in tears. I was mortified to be sitting in a car that I’d practically wrapped around a pole in plain view of the main street of my hometown and afraid of what my dad’s reaction would be. When I got Dad on the phone, he had to have known right away that something was wrong, but he waited until I could get the whole story out. And what did he do when he found out what I’d done and that the car was stuck against a pole? He laughed. (At any other time this probably would have made me mad, but I was so relieved that he wasn’t yelling at me that I didn’t care.) Then he said he’d be there as soon as he could.

By the time Dad arrived, two men at the Ford dealership across the street had noticed me and come to my aid. One of them said sympathetically, “Having a bad day, huh?” before they helped me get the car away from the pole and into a parking spot to wait for Dad. I don’t remember much about what happened after Dad arrived, but I do remember that he never said a word that could be interpreted as scolding.

To this day I don’t know why I was so convinced that Dad would be angry about the accident. The car was old and easily fixed, no one was hurt, and Dad had never gotten upset with me before about anything as unimportant as a dented car. So I guess I’m pretty lucky to have the dad I have. Both parents, really. And I’m glad that I married a man who I’m sure, someday, will be just as understanding and gentle with his own children.

Tomorrow? It’s my birthday! And, I hope, some photos.

New digs! And Maeve Binchy.

Adam & I went to Old Town today to sign the lease on our new apartment! And hand over a sizeable security deposit, but let’s not talk about that. To our immense relief, the apartment hunt is now officially over; all that remains is to move. Let’s not talk about that either.

We celebrated by eating lunch at Popeye’s (Mmmm! Healthy!), and then Adam went to a coworker’s house to work there for the afternoon. I, on the other hand, took the afternoon off and, after visiting Knit Happens and the local library, spent two hours reading and dog-watching on the dock of the Old Town waterfront. (I also bought something at Knit Happens, but it is a secret for now.) It was a beautiful day, and I was reminded why I love spring in Washington so much.

In book news, I finished the new Maeve Binchy book, Whitethorn Woods, last night. She is one of the few authors who has stood the test of time for me–I’ve been a fan for almost 12 years. I first picked up Circle of Friends at Wal-Mart when I was a freshman in high school. I wanted to see the movie, but even at the tender age of 15 was compulsive about reading a book before seeing a movie based on it. My copy of the book even had a photo of Minnie Driver and Chris O’Donnell on the cover. I flew through the book and became a lifelong (so far) fan of Maeve Binchy. (I did eventually rent the movie, and it was complete crap).

I think the title of Favorite Binchy Book is, for me, divided between Scarlet Feather and The Glass Lake, but I was not disappointed with Whitethorn Woods. It’s a series of short stories, each told from two points of view, tied together by the characters’ connection to a shrine to St. Ann in Whitethorn Woods in the small town of Rossmore. Three characters open and close the book: Neddy and Clare Nolan, who own some of the land on which the government wants to build a highway that threatens the existence of the shrine; and Father Brian Flynn, a Catholic priest concerned with the increasing secularization of Ireland.

What never fails to astonish me about Maeve Binchy is her infinite capacity to create unique, richly drawn characters. In Whitethorn Woods, the characters are as varied as any group of people you are likely to meet: a poisonous elderly doctor who will go to nearly any length to rout his competition; an ambitious young woman who struggles to balance her personal and professional life; a mentally imbalanced woman who plots the death of her romantic rival, and her (probably equally imbalanced) mother who takes shameful advantage of her; a middle-aged mother attempting to reconcile the sacrifices she and her husband have made for her grown children with the indifference–and even shame–they feel toward their parents. And although each story is narrated in the first person, Binchy still manages to pull each distinctive story into a cohesive whole through her own voice as a writer.

Maeve Binchy has apparently said that she will not write any more novels, but I’m not sure I believe it because I heard the same rumor shortly before Scarlet Feather was published. I certainly hope it’s not true.

Podcasts

I love podcasts, and I listen to enough of them regularly that I never run out of new listening material. Here’s my list of favorites:

1. This American Life–I used to listen to this pretty regularly when we lived in Iowa, had a car, and would usually spend a fair amount of time in it on weekends (hey, get your mind out of the gutter!). I was so happy a few months ago when they started releasing their show as a weekly podcast, especially since I never listen to the radio now that we no longer have a car. In Terry Gross’s Fresh Air interview with Ira Glass a couple weeks ago, he made a comment about not having a radio voice. But I have to say, I LOVE his voice. That show would not be the same without Ira Glass’s voice!

2. Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me!–Same situation as above, although I’ve been listening to this one longer because it’s been available longer. Along with Ira Glass, Peter Sagal is my other radio voice crush. I will even go so far as to say that I would rather have his voice than Carl Kasell’s on my home answering machine.

3. Car Talk’s Call of the Week–I’d be much happier if they would release the whole show as a podcast, although you can stream it from their website. But I’m usually either writing or editing when I’m sitting in front of my computer, and listening to Car Talk is not conducive to working on technical material, so I very rarely get to hear the whole show anymore.

4. Fresh Air–I only recently started listening to this podcast. It’s the only one on my list that is released more than once per week, ensuring that I never run out of listening material. Terry Gross is so good at interviewing, and has such a soothing voice, that it doesn’t even matter what each show’s subject matter is. I will listen to just about anything she does (although I’ve heard about the Gene Simmons interview and am glad I missed it). I’m even becoming a David Bianculli fan, and I’d never heard of him before I started listening to this podcast.

5. Lime & Violet–This is the only knitting podcast I listen to regularly, but there are a few more that I still need to try. Although there are more technically informative podcasts out there, these ladies always make me laugh.

6. PotterCast–Yeah, I’m a nerd. I used to roll my eyes at the very idea of Harry Potter podcasts, but seriously, this is a good one. They land great interviews and there’s a nice rapport among the regular contributors.

I also listen occasionally to Cast On, but there’s a lot in it about spinning and I’m not really into that. I do plan to download some episodes if we end up taking a trip to New York in April. That’s 8+ hours in a bus, people.

I’ve tried a few bookish podcasts but haven’t yet found one that I really like, although I do have some audiobooks loaded on the ipod in case I’m ever in the mood. I also have some music on there, of course, and maybe I’ll talk about that sometime, but podcasts take up the vast majority of my ipod time.

31,290 Stitches

So this is basically a test post, but last night, I finally finished the second of two scarves that one of Adam’s coworkers requested. Each scarf was knitted in the round, 31,290 stitches in straight stockinette, with nary a purl to break the monotony, in the ultrasqueaky Red Heart Supersaver. Aagh! I didn’t get pictures, but I’m not sure I want a visual reminder anyway. Now my 7 circulars are free for something more fun, like poking my eyeballs out.