Monday, October 24, 2011

knitted digestive system

Going to a class at Nutritional Weight and Wellness tonight called Gut Reaction: Restore Digestive Health Through Nutrition. Hopefully this class will shed some light on how I can handle the problem. It's any wonder why oatmeal and applesauce should make me so sick -- aren't they part of the BRAT diet? Sigh.

Christmas Carol rehearsals start tomorrow. Into the breach!

Here's hoping my digestive system with be warm and fuzzy soon.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

kitty as pillow is always the solution

Maybe I just shouldn't knit for myself.

All of my recent knitting projects have been fairly risky in terms of color choice and construction style, and the risks have paid off beautifully. Until now. I bought some gorgeous celery colored Cascade Magnum with the intention of knitting something for myself. I scoured Ravelry for the perfect pattern, struggled through the slightly vague UK instructions and bound off what promised to be a cozy, chunky bolero. What I ended up with was more akin to a grade school loop weave pot holder with arm holes. Sweet P said, "Well, that's hideous" and i hung it on the back of a chair. It even makes the chair look fat and cheap. I'm not sure any amount of blocking is going to save this hot mess.

Hence the kitty pillow.

Think I'll frog it and start over on something else. I think I'd better knit a project for someone else first.

Friday, October 14, 2011

blogs you should follow

I'm doing a blog hop! Whee! Here are the 3 blogs I read each and every time they update. I think you should read them too:

Dear Pooka

Julia writes letters to her growing brood of boys (three in a one bedroom apartment with another on the way) about their simple, complicated and often homemade lives in the wilds of Michigan.

Keeping Her Cool

Coleen blogs about the adventures of her parenting journey (baby twins and a four year old). Rather than dig deep into her parenting techniques and beliefs (which in case you're wondering are simple, "Keep Calm and Carry On") she shares her experience of being a Mommy. Keeping Her Cool is her perspective of the world she lives in.


The blog for Enough said.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

I've been a knitting machine of late. Here are my latest:

Detachable ear-flappy hat knit on commission for an aquaintance's wife. I love this pattern! How wonderful to have the choice. I was also very clever and wet blocked the hat on this wig head by spritzing it with water and sticking it in the wig dryer to block.

Teensy ear-flappy hat for a preemie. He came 2 months early just like little under cooked me. I thought he could use the leftover Malabrigo for his sensitive head. Minnesota Winters are hard for the grown people who spent the proper amount of time in the womb, so imagine what it's like for the rest of us!

A dear friend had a terrifying brush with death while onstage... alone... on opening night. Thank God. He could have been home. I am thankful for him and thought he might need a heart stuffy.

And finally, bright red stocking cap on commission for a friend. My cast mates are astonished at my speed and dedication. I don't think they understand addiction. Silly non-knitters. Will they never learn?

Monday, October 10, 2011

Inter unum somnium et insequens

Road to Nowhere, originally uploaded by Terra Kate.

So many dreams lately I thought I should start sharing them:

Early September

 Lying down next to my friend's body, naked to the waist. I trace a series of inch long scars that run across his stomach like a basting stitch. He tells me they were from having the coins removed. He flips over onto his stomach. His back is a yellowed, antique map of the old world. Coins rest under his skin, glowing. There are large collections of coins over certain places: Portland, Serbia. When I touch a coin small arrows fly through his skin to point at my finger, protecting the gold coin. His back is layered like an unfinished quilt. Coins have worked their way to the edges of his skin and out of his body. The coins are burdensome and hurt him.

Monday, September 12

I'm sorting through 50 cent pieces to show my friend. They are all different shapes and sizes -- more like small, antiquated icons than coins; different faces of people, squares, windows, different metals, antiqued and worn, pristine and shiny.

Wednesday, September 14

I'm hugely pregnant and in labor. After really great progression the labor suddenly ceases. I can't push the baby out. My belly is taught as a rock, but no matter how I push, squat or walk I can't get the baby to move. I don't feel particularly down hearted or distraught. I just have a sense that something is going to have to change to move forward.

Thursday, September 15

I'm at an artist's colony retreat in a giant, old manor house. We break down into small groups to brainstorm and create a collective visual piece. Some one has drawn a giant gown and I want to create a little doorway inside of it. The doorway would open up to reveal an intricately detailed room in a Victorian house. In the center of the room a gaunt, overly kept, almost zombiefied woman screaming to be let out. I'm embarrassed that I'm not talented enough to execute my idea. I leave my group and walk into the galley kitchen with a huge mirror at the end. I see infinite reflections as if there is another mirror behind me. The reflections begin to move independently. I scream for help and an older woman takes me by the shoulders. She leads me away and tells me very practically that I just need to be confident. "Right," I say, "it's my job."

Wednesday, September 21

A huge fireball in the sky. A small plane crashing in the field behind me cabin. I lock the doors to the house I grew up in so someone dangerous can't get in. I close windows against the thunderstorm. I call 911 but I can't dial the phone -- I dial 914a. I finally manage to connect and they tell me people have already called the plane crash in. Friends are in the house with me. She says someone is trying to get in and leads us to the huge window over the long radiator in the dining room. There is a tall kitty sitting between the glass and the screen. It is his cat.

Friday, September 23

My mouth is coated from sleeping. I look into my mouth in the bathroom mirror and it looks like a cave. Crystals cover my tounge, palate and throat -- white and milky like sufurous growths. I fill a tank -- maybe a trashcan or the tank on a humidifier. I drink the water as it leaks out of the cracks in the plastic. The water is dirty. The stalactite from my palate breaks off and I swallow it. I started pulling growths out of my tonsils. They look like cartoonish enlargements of bacterial cells -- spherical discs covered with perfectly spaced bumps. When I look in the mirror again I am an Asian man.

Sunday, October 9

I'm in a hospital clinic with several other people, waiting to be treated. A woman begins to convulse, foam, complain of headaches and vomit. The doctors chase her down the hall and bring her back into the clinic room. We scatter out of the way. It becomes clear that we are trapped in the room and that her illness is a ruse. She is a serial killer. She takes a baby from someone's arms and cuts off it's pinky toe. She eats the toe to show her intentions.

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