You're scaring me (or am I scaring me?)

Last night I saw something so creepy on TV that I couldn't shift my mind from it when I was trying to fall asleep. Or after I woke up any of the million times after that to cough. Or now.

I don't watch TV much or often. I haven't watched Doctor Who in probably 20 years. And yet I recognized it immediately, with its low production value and high audience engagement.

So get this. Doctor Who's crowd have heard a friend scream, and run to find her, only to discover her el-cheapo plaster-white skeleton* still in its space suit, her voice modulator thingy still cranking out her last thoughts. The idea is still freaking me out - that in the moments after you die, the imprint of your last thoughts might linger in the air like smoke until it is buffeted away in the current, broken up and divided and recycled into so much white noise.

No more Doctor Who for me! Today, anyway. I gotta fill up my brain with something else... anything else. I see the perfect wool yarn for felting is on sale at a store I'll be near today, and apparently the white and off-white balls lend themselves beautifully to Kool-Aid dye. Maybe this is a good weekend for a science experiment?

* She met a flesh-eating swarm of shadow and lost.

Betcha can't do this

I'm a New Yorker addict, the kind with a subscription. For a long time I'd get through the whole thing the day it arrived, and I got other subscriptions to fill the void. And then... well, my surplus of time dried up (because I was writing a novel, maybe?) and it was taking a couple of weeks to get through every week's delivery.

So you can see how I might not have noticed, in the midst of all that paper, that I accidentally let my New Yorker subscription lapse last month. It wasn't until I opened a letter that began with Dear former subscriber that I knew my world as I knew it had ended.

Yesterday the first issue from my new subscription arrived. Last night, I found myself briefly with free eyes and an only partially occupied brain and, naturally, sat down to read. I must have been almost a whole page in before it hit me: I was also knitting.

Remember when I wrote a couple of weeks ago that Elizabeth Zimmerman used to read and knit at the same time? Was your reaction the same as mine? - Wow! and then, How??? Well, I can tell you how: knit stocking stitch, and make sure what you're reading is closer to your line of sight than what's on your needles.

Unleasing the awesome transformative power of...

hot water and agitation. I'm talking felting, baby!

Yesterday was pretty much of a write-off for anything sensible so I finished knitting my giant hat, tried it on and admired the flying nun effect when I folded back the floppy sides, then picked up some stitches to knit a chin strap. (I'm going somewhere with this.)

I measured the hat's dimensions, set the washing machine to high agitation and hot water, and threw it in. Yes, really. Five minutes later, the wool had matted to a thick, solid mass the shape of a bathing cap. I measured again, decided meh, then threw it back for another five. Perfection. It looks like a bathing cap but it resists wind and water and if I ever find a pair of decorative goggles I'll look like a WWI flying ace (in a pink puffy coat.)

The procrastination potential is endless. Pillow covers? storage baskets? tote bags? blankets? You betcha. And you don't have to knit, either. You can felt used wool sweaters and cut the resulting fabric (it won't fray) into pieces for other projects. And if you're not a crafty type, you can still use this information to impress people at the water cooler. See? I care, so I share.

Making a plan and sticking to it: overrated?

I've been mostly sleeping for a couple of days now and still feel too lousy to rake leaves, which is a drag because the weather is warm and sunny and non-windy AND most of the leaves are off the resident tree. (Which puts it a few weeks earlier than last year, something I hope does not bode ill for a palatable winter.) My plan to get out there and clear up the leaves before it's cold enough to require a coat and gloves and hot chocolate after is pretty much a goner.

But that's okay, right? because I can work on my horror story instead, and have it ready as planned for the end of the month. Except that I'm too sleepy to do that either, and I knit so much watching election results (USA! USA!) that all I have to do is (learn how to graft and) graft the back seam on my hat. And then, you know, knit a chin strap, and felt it, and sew on a button and stuff. So I'm tempted to do the grafting this morning and get closer to my goal of a warm hat in cold weather.

Except I'm not sure I can keep my eyes open to graft. Maybe I'll just look at the instructions for grafting, enjoy the nap that will inevitably ensue, and hope I can get back on track tomorrow. It's nice to go with the flow, but it's nicer when things get done along the way.

Do men wear mohair?

and NO, I'm not talking about mohair suits. I have knit some stupid things in my day but I'm not demented.

So, I've caught some virus or other, and I just want to drink vats of water - cold or recently boiled with lemon juice and honey in it - and sleep. Not so conducive to writing, but definitely to thinking about the Christmas knitting (hence my question) and to reading. Luckily my copy of Arctic Lace arrived at the local library yesterday. Karen recommended this book as a possible source for Mary-friendly qiviut patterns, and she was right. I have exactly enough qiviut to make three very attractive things in it and to wonder whether a moebius shawl, so flattering on others, would make me look like a dork?

Arctic Lace has a wide appeal. Yes, there is knitting, and lace patterning. A little about qiviut specifically and musk oxen generally. It is somewhat about Arctic exploration, and a lot about specific individuals and native Alaskan lifestyles in remote communities accessible only by plane and increasingly affected by climate change, as are the musk oxen themselves. Highly recommended.

And now I would like to wish my US readers minimal lineup time at the polls and a delicious free Starbucks coffee! before I go drink something much less delicious, if equally hot.

Can writing be procrastinatory?

This time last year, I was writing my first non-mystery novel. I worked on it all winter with my Humber mentor, David Bergen, who patiently explained to me what didn't work and why, but I was never able to resolve the problems. In Wayson Choy's summercamp workshop, I worked only on the first chapter. I left with a very clear instructions to fix its problems, and I did fix them, in part by adding a new character for one scene only. Then I brought it to my most excellent critique group... who saw all the same problems as before, but loved that one character.

I am thinking about two things now: the writer who said character takes priority over story, and Joseph Boyden's comment, in the interview at the back of Three Day Road, that the novel didn't work until he reshaped it with a circular, rather than linear, approach.

I was going to rake leaves today. Then I came to my senses and decided to work on my horror story, due in a few weeks for a contest. But while I was hauling leaf bag monsters off the lawn in the dark in teeming rain (don't ask) a solution to the first chapter of that old novel came to me. So I'm going to try that instead. And I'm NOT going to eat Halloween candy while I do it, because I'm strong and not because it's finally gone, though that also is true.

How many exciting things fit into one day off?

Let's see...

knitting (and ripping out and knitting some more)

getting to tell Wayson Choy in person just how inspired and productive I've been since his workshop at SummerCamp

hearing a fantastic group of writers talk about how their backgrounds influence their writing

seeing a lightbulb go off over my own head when one of them described ditching a novel after writing two transcendent paragraphs about two characters she would be leaving forever after that chapter, so that she could write about them instead, because you don't kick aside such a gift

having a visit with Binnie

running into two other girlfriends and catching up

seeing a dress once owned, apparently, by Marie Antoinette (and if she really did own it then she still had the body of a pre-pubescent child at 15)

eating out (well, okay, owing to a mixup at the museum it ended up being a tuna sandwich and oddly sweet apple cider, but still - out!)

eating chocolate (YES, Hallowe'en candy, I'm terrible, I know)

going to bed super early for serious bonus sleep


I make that 10 and the best day off ever! And now to go eat some more Halloween candy (yes yes, terrible terrible, no knitting for you young lady.)