Vincent's lucky day

The radiator turned into a Sunny Spot!

Bah, humbug

I do think Christmas sucks.
I try to enjoy it, enjoy the lights and decorations.
And it's easy to enjoy the fairy lights in the darkness of December.
But I don't know if I'll ever find any true joy in Christmas again.
I've practiced for ten years now, and it has become easier, but not easy.
I miss having a family.
I miss my mother.
On Christmas eve even more.
And seeing and hearing my neighbours leaving to go see their families, or welcoming them, the excitement of the kids, the lights on the Christmas trees.... does make it hard to feel thrilled about staying at home with the cats and a dressed up ivy.
I thought I was OK with Christmas, and with being alone, and that I didn't really care. Anymore.
The past years I've been working Christmas eve, and the years before I earned enough to be able to flee to Venice - or Nijmegen.
And it is easier that way.
Much easier than sitting at home alone pretending it's not much different from any other night, and that it doesn't really matter anyway.
I dread going back to work and the obligatory questions "did you have a nice Christmas?" and "did you get any nice presents?".
Especially since the truthful answer would be "I've rarely felt more alone" and "I didn't get any" respectively, and I have to find a nice, neutral answer instead.
But I really want to be able to enjoy Christmas, with myself and the cats and whichever potted plant I choose to decorate.
I just have to figure out how.
I don't want to become another Ebenezer Scrooge.
That would be too bloody sad.

I don't have "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...."

But I do have nutty cats keeping toasty on top of the radiator.
Even if they tell me to sod off and knit something.

White Christmas - and dressing up Ivy

I think this is the closest we'll get to a white Christmas this year.

A very misty morning.
It was much mistier a little while ago...

And for a while I wanted a Christmas tree.
Then I decided against it.
Then I wanted a Christmas tree if only to amuse and entertain the cats.
Then I looked at Christmas trees and they were either too big or too small or too ugly - and generally just too expensive.
So I decided against it. Again.
Then I wanted a Christmas tree again.
This morning. Much too late.
For anything but a dressed up Ivy.


But the cats do seem quite content with it - if not wildly entertained.
And no matter what I do my stupid old camera just doesn't cope well with the odd light of a misty Christmas morning.

Do they know it's Christmas?

Now the bad cats do.
Maybe.

Laurenz and his big butt - and the fetchings

I wanted to wrap up the fetchings for Katrine, so that I can deliver them tonight.
But this is what I found.


Laurenz seems rather intent they get to smell like cat butt.

I know he's not a huge fan of Katrine, but this is taking his dislike a bit too far.
Or maybe he just likes the feel of alpaca and silk against his nether regions.

Hey, I've actually been knitting

I have finished knitted objects to show!
A pair of fetching fingerless gloves for Katrine, using the softest, most luscious blend of silk and baby alpaca. I hate how much I love that yarn.

Somehow one keeps looking shorter than the other in spite of same number of stitches and rows, same yarn and same needles. But I don't really care too much.
It just adds to the lovely and unique handknitted softness.
I hope she'll appreciate that.

And to add to the long list of WIPs I have started knitting the Vali dress from Rowan Studio 2. I came across the pattern and fell head over heels in love with it.
And they have a finished version on show at my not-so-local-but-favourite yarn store, and it's even more beautiful in person.
Having worked my way through the first 10 cm I feel somewhat confident that the dress will be finished some time this decade.
And I'm using sock yarn. I have a severe crush on Filcolana Arwetta, a soft and lovely superwash merino sock yarn. And now it's dress yarn too.
I have however decided against the lace skirt after a few repeats of the pattern, instead it has become a very nice lacy border matching wonderfully with the bodice stitch pattern.

I want to be able to wear it to work. At the big Investment Bank, where for some odd reason the boys are just too boyish for a lace skirt to be wearable.
Even in their thirties they appear to be still rather amazed and surprised by the fact that women have breasts, and anything hinting at transparency or giving unexpected glimpses of skin seems to disturb them.

And there will be no angelicats this year since Vincent, not so very surprisingly, ate his set of wings.
Maybe next year.

Every time tuna is served a cat might get its wings

My dance muscles were sore all weekend.
I had forgotten how a Christmas party with the Big Investment Bank meant a Christmas party with only little time off the dance floor due to a 1:5 ratio of women to men.
Which is good when you love to dance.
Not so good if you don't.
Good food, very good wines, good music. And once in while a sip of G&T.
And I managed to behave myself etc. while having Very Good Fun.
And I had no hangover on Saturday, due to lack of opportunity to drink, and only a bit of soreness in all too rarely used dance muscles. But no sore feet.
Luckily I had chosen to wear my golden dance shoes. I love those shoes.
Far, far beyond reason. Sometimes I take them out of their red shoe bag just to look at them and pet them a bit.

Dance Naturals, Art. 22, 3 1/2". I have another pair but in a slightly more sober black. Bought ages ago when I made quite a bit more money than I do now. And was mildly obsessed with Argentine tango.
I wish I could wear them every day, everywhere.
And I wish I had much more time to dance.

And today my boss at the Big Investment Bank asked if I would like to stay with them after my contract ends December 14th.
And, oh, do I want to stay!
It's a good job at a good place, surrounded by good people. (And the lunch is very, very good.)
And I feel useful. And good at what I do.
I had actually forgotten how you feel when you leave work, knowing you've done a good job, and knowing you're appreciated not just for what you do but also for who you are. We should all be allowed to feel that way every day.

And now even I have admitted that it's Christmas. The fairy lights are up again, and I've bought a poinsettia.

I like those. I think they're pretty. And I don't understand why so many people claim to hate the very sight of them.
Now the fairy lights and the red flower may be the full extent of my Christmas decorating, but at least I've done something about it this year.
And I'm not dreading Christmas as I usually do.
Even if I will not be working Christmas this year which has always been a nice easy escape.
Christmas will never be what it once was. But dreading it will not make it any better, so I may just as well enjoy it and make the best of it.
And I still try to convince the cats to wear some fun, feathery angel wings I bought for them. If only for a minute. Just to make me happy.
But they're not buying into the idea.
Not yet.
But I still have much tuna, and much patience.

That was it

I'm never going back to the Crappy Call Center.
And the weekend is mine. All mine.
Christmas party tomorrow.
There is only one thing I'll miss about the Crappy Call Center and about working Sundays:
Every Sunday a beautiful elderly lady would be waiting at the busstop outside work, and I will for some odd reason miss saying goodmorning to her, and I will miss her smile and her goodmorning in return.
It was as if that very brief but repeated exchange of a smile and a single word was a secret we shared.
And I wonder if she will wonder where I am.

Worth waiting for

I went to the library after work.
And they finally had four books I've been waiting for for ever.
Or at least since April in the case of Victorian Lace Today.
The others have been a mere few months to arrive from other libraries.
And once again I had to explain that no, it is no mistake, yes, it is possible for one person to have a keen interest in both cognitive neuroscience AND lace knitting.
The new young man at the library is terribly adorable, though.
I'm deeply grateful to whomever chose to give him the job.
He's sweet.
And I had to go back to him no less than three times to have the books checked as the alarm kept going off when I tried to leave.

I have to get Victorian Lace Today for myself to keep. I don't think I've ever seen knitting book photography that gorgeous. Nor a layout so beautiful and "functional".
The layout of A Gathering of Lace annoys me.
It's too scattered and ... just annoying.
And I have Trimble's The Soul in the Brain. Oh, have I been waiting to get my hands on that one!
Opening line of the Introduction: "If you fear that opening your mind will cause your brain to fall out, then this book is not for you."
Big day!
And I have the monster book of monsters.... or just a bloody big book: The Cognitive Neurosciences (III). There was much happy giggling at the sight of it!
"Uh, this is better than Christmas"
It's one of the biggest books I've ever brought home from the library, and the weight of it made me skip the thought of buying milk and cat litter.
That will have to wait until the weekend.
Oh, what a wonderful weekend it will be.
Cats, books, and no work at the Crappy Call Center! Well, some cleaning is absolutely needed around here, and hopefully laundry can be done, but still.... Cats and books. And knitting.
And right now I have lovely fresh spinach and ricotta tortellini waiting to be tossed into boiling water.
And water on the verge of boiling.
And of course happy cats keeping their bellies warm on top of the radiator.
Life is good.

Count down

In one hour I can leave the Crappy Call Center.
And then I will only have to return once - and then only for another four hours.
And I have the weekend off.
I have not had a full weekend off for as long as I can remember with any precision.
And I have a real company christmas party to go to Friday night.
Not the Crappy Call Center's travesty costing each DKK 100 (USD 20) to cover the bad food and the Bacardi Breezers at a discount, but a real Big Investment Bank Christmas party.
I've missed those.
Even if, as we all know, your main goals when it comes to company parties are to behave yourself, not to get too drunk, and absolutely not to get off with anyone.
And still have fun.
While to some extent succeeding at the three first.
I have nothing to wear of course, and little time to go shopping.
But there's always a little black dress hidden in a corner of the wardrobe.
And I have my shimmery golden, handsewn Venetian 3½" dance shoes.

And more important I have cuddly cats waiting at home.
I don't know if they cuddle more now that it's cold. But they do spend a lot more of the cuddling time under cover, if not choosing the radiator over me.
Skinny little beasts.

Bad lightning, bagged milk, and big blue eyes

This is really mostly for Linnea.

Sadly there will (most likely) not be any disco light in the laundry room.
It was just an excited, hurried not-very-good cell-phone-photo in bad lightning.
But I will get to use it.
And I still cannot wait.
They're still working on it, but I hope that come this weekend laundry can be done - not in the shower, not at the laundromat, but in the basement laundry room.

The bagged milk is ecological, and not non-fat. (I hate non-fat milk.)
And the bag works wonderfully. Surprisingly so.
I bought it because it was the only eco-milk in the store, and of course the bag itself made me laugh with wonder. And squish it. Gleefully.
It seems to close itself almost as if by magic, and the bottom is shaped so that even the last bit of milk is enough to keep it nicely upright.
(Milk never lasts long enough to go sour here.)
And the bag is made from nice environment friendly .... something chalky and some polymer-thingy. I'm sure it is explained here.
Very clever.
And since I'm easily entertained I giggle just looking at it.
And the yogurt was delicious!

This morning brought snow! It didn't last long but it was there.
But sometimes you just don't want to leave your nice and warm bed in the morning.
Not because of the weather, but because of this:

What a difference a week makes

After months, and months, and months with laundry done in a bucket in the shower and no improvement to the hole in the ground ... this has happened during the past week:

Tiles and a drain. And hopefully a washing machine soon.
And my beautiful landlord mentioned the addition of a dryer!
I cannot wait!

Will November ever end?

November has been good.
I have discovered bagged milk! And bagged yogurt. And it both puzzles me and makes me laugh. And if all the entertainment provided by the packaging wasn't enough, it is very good ecological yogurt!


And I love being back with the Big Investment Bank.
I almost hate how much I love being back.
More so because it's only temporary, a small detail I seemed to miss with the first excitement.
The woman, who took over from me when I left, is ill, maybe long term - bad damage from using a computer mouse it seems.
And I'm only filling in for her.
With a contract ending mid-December.
But oh, how I want them to want to keep me anyway when she returns.
Even if that doesn't seem very likely or really necessary.
But they have noticed how their presentations are just that bit sharper and more elegant once they've been through my hands.
And I've had a chance to say clever things about communicating and using visual means and telling stories.
And so I'm a bit hopeful, but not too much, and I try to just enjoy it, while it lasts. Hoping that it will. Last.
I really enjoy my morning walk past Marmorkirken and through the yard at the Museum of Arts and Crafts.
And the late afternoon ride on the bus home through Kongens Nytorv with its glitter of Christmas fairy lights.
But twice a week I have to go straight to work at the Crappy Call Center.
Which is why I cannot wait for November to end.
Leaving home at 7:30 in the morning not to return until 22:30 at night at the earliest is not my idea of a good day.
I miss the cats. And I think they miss me too.
And I will have had a total of two days off this month, counting next Saturday.
And so I'm tired.
And I have not had time to do as much knitting or as much cat-belly-stroking as I would like.
But then the cats do have their radiator to keep them warm and cosy.

And tonight they have me too. Only too happy to scratch ears and throw toy mice.
And I have a very nice bottle of wine and a lot of double moss stitch to knit, as I really, really want Norah Gaughan's Hex Coat to keep me warm and cosy, since there's not room for me too on top of the radiator.
It doesn't look very interesting, but I'm a bit surprised how much I like knitting it. It's not very exciting but not too boring either.
Quite perfect for my tired self.

It looks like snow

But it cannot possibly be snow?

Can it?

Oh

I'm tired.
I had my first day at the Big Investment Bank from 8:30 to 16:30.
And since it's either four or five years since I left them I was surprised by the many people happy to see me back and the happy hugs.
That's a very nice thing when you tend to feel not so very unforgettable.
From there I went on to the library, which was just manageable in spite of mad rush hour traffic as I had to be at work at the Crappy Call Center at 18:00.
(Where I still am, by the way, until 22:00)

I want my cats. And a shower. And my silk pajamas. And my bed.

And while at work this evening some devious devil possessed me into buying nearly a 1000 kr. worth of yarn.
Yarn I've coveted and which is on sale.
But still a lot of money.
And a lot of lovely yarn.
A lot of lovely, lovely yarn!
But after today I think I deserve it.
And considering the rest of November.... I bloody well deserve it.
Currently I have three jobs:
Job Co, a nice two-days-a-week administrative/creative thing, which I enjoy.
Job Ab, my three-days-a-week return to Big Investment Bank, but this may be for just a month or so, I don't know yet, and don't really know if I care. It's good to be back, but I may be reminded why I left. You never know.
And finally there is Job Ad, the Crappy Call Center, which will be history come the end of November.
And so I'll be working Mondays and Wednesdays 8:30-16:30 at job Co.
Tuesdays and Thursdays at Job Ab from 8:30-16:30 followed by job Ad from 18-22.
And then Fridays at job Ab 8:30 to 16:30.
And Sundays 10 to 18 at job Ad.
So if that doesn't make the yarn much deserved, I don't know what would.
Luckily the only course I managed to follow this semester ended last week, and luckily I'm feeling much, much better.
I even think I'll dare opening a bottle of wine tomorrow evening.
That's how good I'm feeling!

But not until after voting.
Big election will take place Tuesday 13th.
But on account of my mad working hours I have decided to place my vote tomorrow after work, as it is in fact possible.
Besides I do not care much what they say, or do, or promise during the election frenzy.
It's what happens inbetween elections that matters.

The elephant in the shower

Most of the time I'm a fairly reasonable grown-up who can say clever things about semiotics and cognitive psychology and such, knows her Köchel numbers, and has a fair understanding of the workings of the financial markets.

But sometimes I'm 5 years old.

The cat cave

Of all the places they have to chose from the cats very much prefer their cardboard box.

In my odd little home there are a few surprising little details and "fun" little solutions.
One being the way the bathroom was extended into the living room to make space for a shower. Creating a perfect platform for cats to watch and sleep under the ceiling slope.
With easy access to running and roaring on the beams.

And I wonder why I ever bothered to knit a kitty pi when all I had to do was buy a printer and hand over the box it came in.

On a roll

This has been an extraordinarily good week.
First good thing:
Tuesday I quit my job at the call center.
Out of anger and frustration and fed-up-ness.
I've never been overly fond of it, but it has offered me the flexibility needed to follow courses at the university while working a full week (as needed in order to feed cats and pay rent and buy a bit of yarn now and then). And I've liked a lot of my colleagues. A lot.
And most of the time I've really enjoyed helping the people calling.
Although not the incredibly rude and aggressive ones.
But the pay has been bad, the environment less than charming, and it has been rather draining and tiring. And to make matters worse we got a new so-called team leader a few months ago.
A very ambitious 23-years old girl. And she wants the best team, she says. But only with regards to quantity not quality.
She shows absolutely no knowledge of how to lead or motivate - nor any respect or consideration for neither her colleagues nor her team members.
And Thursday I finally got fed up. Probably as I found no reason in being asked to explain my lack of efficiency in the two weeks following the endoscopy-gone-bad.
I've been told never to quit a job on impulse or in anger. But it felt rather good.
At least until I started worrying. The next day.

But then all tests showed great improvement in the pancreatic and spleenish areas. That is good thing number two, by the way.

Good thing number three: The library finally got me Lace Style.

And number four: Today I dragged my monster of a king-size duvet to the laundromat for its pre-winter washing.
And listened to Bach and knit a bit while watching it whirl around, trying not to think about my being nearly unemployed in less than a month.
And so tonight I have a perfectly clean and fragrant duvet.
And I gave a nice, elderly woman a good laugh as I tried in vain to make the duvet fit into the centrifuge. Not possible. But a good clown-act - and thus good thing number four and a half.

And I do indeed have a new job. That is good thing number five.
Years ago I worked with an investment bank. It was my very first real real job.
Working full-time, 9-5 (or rather 7-21, as it became most days).
And I loved it. During the first two years I took only one day off, and I missed my colleagues. That's how much I loved it.
Until ... I fell in love with a young man I met at a yoga retreat, my step-father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and suddenly working so much wasn't as fun as it could be. And had been. Of course I had also been burning the candle at both ends for far too long.
And when everything seems to close in on you, well,... I decided the one thing I could change was my job and so I did. There were other reasons. Of course.
But it's a place I've been proud of having been employed with.
And it was, and still is, my favourite job ever. And sometimes I miss it.
And this afternoon I got a call from them asking if I would like to come back, part time, my terms. They understand I have courses and exams.
Of course they would like me to start Monday, but with a bit of work Tuesday should be possible.

I really wish I could have a glass of wine to celebrate. But in a few weeks that should once again be possible.

Oh, yes. Good thing number ...six. My hyacinths, which I have for too long left for dead yet not quite remembered to throw out, have decided to give me a repeat performance.

I just wonder if I should make them little paper hats as you see in photos.
But you never see hyacinths with paper hats in nature, so they should be able to do what they do - without accessories.

Oh yes, I've started knitting the jacket from Norsk Strikkedesign. I'm nearly done with the sleeve. And I'm besotted.

My choice of colours is quite different from the original, and I want to make it into a tunic rather than a jacket. I don't do jackets much. Coats yes, but jackets and cardigans not so much. And I like something I can just slip over my head without fiddling with buttons.
It's very addictive knitting.
So far there's only a tiny bit of puckering and unevenness, but I don't care too much. I still look at it and pet it a bit and feel very proud for being able to manage more than one colour yarn at a time, and for mustering the courage to start it.
And I think I read somewhere that in the good old days they didn't give a f*ck about a bit of puckering here and there as it would all even itself out once given a good wash. I hope it's right. And not just something I dreamt.
And, as I said, there really isn't too much of that anyway.
That has to be good thing number seven.

All's Well That Ends Well

Or, to quote the great Lloyd Cole, nothing very good or very bad will ever last for very long.
Things didn't go quite as smoothly as expected.
The endoscopy itself went fine. It seemed.
I even went home by bus. Somehow they had the idea that my non-existent husband would come to get me, so they had not arranged transportation and in my still semi-sedated state I found it easier to climb on the bus than find a taxi.
And I had planned to be at work as usual Tuesday afternoon.
Instead I spent the early hours of that day in the emergency room.
All I have left to say to the odd woman waiting with me is that if you're wearing a pale blue coat it is a very bad idea to upset the girl vomiting blood any further by telling her that 1 in 200 endoscopies is fatal.
It's not only unkind but also rather unwise.
If only I had better aim.
And so I got to spend a bit more time in hospital than planned.
But all is well now.
I am home. I have happy cats and plenty of pills, and I have new pajama pants. Very pretty in white and blue with a thin silver stripe. Very pretty!
And I have no plans other than read P.D. James, knit socks, and admire the cats for a few days.

Bruckner, beer, and bed socks

I have been knitting. Really.
My knitting mojo came back to me in a little brown box all the way from Germany, thanks to the lovely Linnea.
With whom I had the privilege of spending the sunnier part of a beautiful Saturday last week as she and her handsome husband went to Stege for their first wedding anniversary.
It is a very beautiful place, probably the ideal of Denmark, and they are very beautiful human beings.
And the beer was great. A local micro brewery. Very good beer.
There are very few things better than good beer and sunshine.
As I seem to have tossed the camera cable somewhere here is a photo of a flag in a pretty garden - and the reflection of my hands holding my mobile rather awkwardly.

And the bridge to Møn over very calm waters. See how the pattern in the water (on the left) looks just like a swan taking flight. But it's just water.

And here is evidence of me knitting in public.

The bed socks for Laurel using yarn from her very own alpacas. I think this might be the most luxuriously soft yarn I've ever had the privilege of playing with. Fluffy and soft and very warm.
So warm I could not knit with it all summer. But perfect for knitting while doing laundry.
Our basement laundry room is still just the same big hole in the ground, and so the bucket in the shower is still quite busy, but my bed linen does get to go on a trip to the nearest laundromat.

This is what I usually see when reading or knitting in bed:

Or this:

Or:

Or the Tyrolean Stockings from Interweave Knits using Telemark from Knitpicks (from Linnea) in a luscious heathery colour - on a decorative backdrop of cats and white linen.

And the soundtrack to all this is nothing less than Bruckner's Symphonies, mostly the 7th. I've grown a bit obsessed with the good Anton recently. Or maybe just listen more and more attentively than usual.
Besides the beauty of it, I have also found that it is very good for measuring time.
If I start playing it the second I lock the door behind me, I will hear the final bars of the second movement the minute I walk into the parking lot at work. If not I'm early - or late. Considering the morning traffic here early is rarely the case.
And it will also be the soundtrack Monday, when they remove the as yet not completely identified lump of unwelcome tissue in the pancreatic neighbourhood.
I have by now gathered enough images of being prodded and poked and scanned by people in white coats to dream about alien abductions in interesting detail for years to come.
And Monday is likely to add new and interesting layers as they will not knock me out cold, but only keep their work space senseless.
I'm not too keen on that thought.
I've asked if I could at least drink myself senseless, but they say that's not an option.
At the merest whiff of whiskey I'll be sent back home.
But they kindly asked if I had a piece of favourite music I would like to listen to while they rummage about. And I chose Bruckner.
And those 64 minutes should be just enough.

Bah

Well, today I saw a man walking with a gorgeous green parrot perched calmly and happily on his shoulder.
I like parrots.
A lot. But so, I'm afraid, do the cats.
Otherwise a mysterious case of acute pancreatitis has been keeping me occupied.
While it in return seems to continue to ignore the very expensive pills I've been prescribed for it.
It has just about a week to go away before the new semester starts.
Very little knitting is being done.
But the cats are happy, healthy, and very, very cuddly.

So many photos, you would think it was a new kitten - not a new Hard Drive

I finally gave in to the fact that the Hard Drive in my much loved PowerBook needed to be replaced.
And so I searched for a DIY solution on apple.com, but soon realized this was not one of the parts they gladly advice you to replace yourself in this particular model.
So .... after a good bit of half-arsed research I ordered a Seagate Momentus 160GB 5400 rpm drive from somewhere else.
And found a half-arsed guide at ifixit.com (which didn't look much like the right guide, once I got down to it).
Friday, feeling both fearless and capable, I picked up the drive (trying to ignore the snigger from the sales-nerd when I mentioned I would do it myself), put out the good tablecloth, folded little, wobbly origami screw-holders (with clever notes of where the screws came from) and found the big set of tiny screwdrivers.

And I set to work.
The fearlessness started fading once I found myself actually holding the screwdriver, and I did consider a good, healthy dose of Glenmorangie before opening the wonder-machine. But I decided against it on account on the tininess of the screws and the delicacy of a CPU.
And of course the fact that it was not even lunchtime yet.
(And the fact that my pancreas is in less than stellar condition these days, now that I think about it. And it is hard to forget that. For too long at a time.)
I did my best to keep the cats away using a good serving of their favourite special treat wet-food. But they have always been fast eaters.
However, Vincent had much helpful advice to give, while Laurenz was happily chasing a fly in the living room.

It took a good bit of very gentle and increasingly nervous wriggling to get the top off, but off it went, and this is what the wonder looks like on the inside:

Once I got over my fascination with finally seeing the inside of the wonder that is a PowerBook - and once I got over myself for fiddling around the same inside with little idea what I was doing while armed with pointy screwdrivers - getting the old drive out was rather easy.
Quite a bit of yellow tape had to be removed, and since I didn't know whether or not it was very important or reusable, I just tossed it.
And in the new drive went.
Soon to be followed by all the little screws in correct order.
Vincent was making sure the screw drivers didn't go anywhere.

And I could soon start reinstalling everything on my new healthy and happy Hard Drive. The operation took less than half an hour.

Although I still wonder why it says 148GB, when I was expecting 160GB.
But pride and a feeling of smug coolness for replacing it myself is stronger than the wonderment of the vanishing 12GB.
And if I find myself in need of more than the 148Gb .... heck, I'll just replace the drive. Now that I know how.
And the beauty of the old drive is something I cannot quite get over, yet unable to decide whether it looks more like tiny islands in the ocean or stars in a summer sky.

And Vincent could take a well earned nap.

And Laurenz did catch the fly in the end.

Trying to read slowly

I stood in line for what felt like ages but was in reality less than half an hour.
And I managed to catch one of the earlier (k)night buses home and read a few chapters before deciding to go to sleep.
And now I'm halfway through and I really, really want to make the book last. At least until evening.
It had me cry on page 175. For no apparent, explicable reason.
And that's really all I have to say on the subject.
I'm not the spoiling kind.
To keep myself from racing through the book, as part of me does want to, I take a break every chapter, or even mid-chapter, to knit a row or two on the Mystery Stole.
(Much needed after the tedious boredom of knitting the Textured Tunic. I did finish it on time, but I also frogged it this morning while rereading the first chapters. The lovely green silk can easily find better purpose in life.)
I am using sock yarn for my stole, though.
The lace weight I tried with at first drove me mad and had me start over three times a day for a week before giving up.
But sock yarn is my friend.
And so I really don't care if that's not kosher.
I can just exactly manage to concentrate on a row or two at a time before turning my full attention back to the book.
And much to my own surprise I have not even had so much as a glance at the final chapter!

Getting ready

The reading spot is all set up and ready.
I have fruit, sun dried apricots, and home baked oat & coconut biscuits and spicy crackers.
I have much green tea. And orange juice.
I also have a sofa with stuffing poking out.
And theres a good blob of cat vomit on the floor.
Naked feet are brilliant cat vomit detectors.
We really need some of these brilliant cat vomit warning signs! And for the cats to learn to use them.
But otherwise our little home is tidy, dishes and laundry all done, and I'm waiting.
In twelve hours I will stand in line waiting for the book.
Until then Vincent will keep the sofa ready and in working order.
When not playing pillow cave.
And if Laurenz is willing I may be wearing my new green silk textured tunic from Lapel's fitted knits.
If I had not put myself on a slightly insane deadline to finish it for the book release it would have been put in the pile of Very Boring Knitting to be Done at Work.
But for some odd reason I really, really want to finish it. And have it finished by tonight.
And I do have twelve hours.