a beautiful day, a dislocated rib and a hunter dog

Last week, by some quirk of fate, I somehow managed to dislocate a rib.  Now this happens to me with some degree of regularity, so I warn't too concerned.  However, this time the pain was worse 3 days later, so... I did what any reasonable person would do and today, I took the day.  The fact that it was about 72 degrees and sunny outside (um... hello.... in NOVEMBER) really had no bearing on my decision.  

And so I slept until 11 am (oh bliss!) and after putzing around ... okay, not really putzing around, .... really just sitting in front of my computer reading the news and looking up idle things on the internet, I decided to pack up some supplies and the dog and head down the hill to the local dog park.   My chief aim was to go sit on the park bench at the top of a hill where I can look out onto the bay, see Marin, see the GG, watch the clouds, and be still enough for my rib to knit.

I packed up a scarf I'm knitting for one of my sisters, a tea cozy I'm knitting for someone who might read this blog so I'm not 'fessing, a book written by a friend of mine that I really really really need to read, two catalogues, and my iPhone.  Threw in some dog biscuits just in case.

Walked down the hill with the Maizie Lady on the leash, plonked myself down on the bench, and proceeded to stay there for the next two hours.... I kid you not.  It might even have been longer - I didn't check to see when I left... 

gorgeous day - watched a hawk circling over the fields, laughed at Maizie's hopping around the field, going from one mole hole to the next, digging her way through what seemed like half of New Jersey, running after other dogs, and... then ... she started bringing me moles... she apparently is quite good at catching them... She plays with them like a cat, I'm afraid.  My darling dog is actually quite a ruthless killer.  

So, once she had brought me her third li'l mole, I felt it was time to leave.  I was beginning to feel like I was harboring Mack the Knife... striking terror into the hearts of the local mole population.

It was a beautiful day and I loved the silence, the gorgeous hills, the sun beating down on me, the hawk, the sight of my dog's rear end up-ended in a mole hole.  A day like today is a rare thing.  Hmmmmm, the weather is supposed to do the same thing tomorrow and I have over 550 hours of sick leave... and my rib isn't all better yet...

I hear the moles screaming, "Oh Merciful God, NO!!!"

Stream of Consciousness

Am currently sitting at the bar of my new gig - a friend's restaurant where I am cocktailing/bartending/bar backing/hostessing/letsberealI'mthegogetmesomethingbitch. The owner and I are working on creating the beer and wine menu bit by bit. He's running around waiting tables and schmoozing and I'm sitting here thinking, soaking up the hot night air, people watching (it's amazing how many 50's-ish couples I've seen making out in the past 3 days), and every once in a while remembering that I actually care about the Jets game and looking up at the score.

Admitted to a friend last night that I care more about the Jets at this point than either of the Bay Area teams. I do feel bad about this, and would never claim the Jets as "my team" - but I've become disenchanted.

Putting together this menu has taught me so much more about the complexities of various brews than sitting behind the bar and jabbering with bartenders ever has. I guess it's the literary nerd in me that soaks up what I read faster than what I hear.

I was working behind that bar last night when I noticed one customer had "No Love" tattooed on his neck, just below his right ear. He was around 25, wearing shorts that reached his ankles and a shirt that reached his knees, an SF Giants hat with the silver sticker still clinging to the underside of the bill, and a big endearing smile. We chatted about the music (Latin Jazz), he cracked jokes about his "woman" and her new nipple piercing, I teased him for his unwillingness to wear clothes that fit. When I asked about his tattoo he was dodgy, I looked closer and noticed that the "V" in "LOVE" had a blank space in it, like he had erased the left side of the letter only.

"Oh that? That's just from where they stuck the IV in me in the ER the night I got shot" he said.

He casually lifted his shirt and pointed out four bullet scars. One just bellow his left nipple, one in the middle of his torso on the right, one above his belly button, and one on his left love handle. In the middle of this madness was a scar stretching from his waistband to his chest.

"I'm gonna get a zipper tattoo over that scar dude, it's gonna be TIGHT" he said to his partner in crime for the evening, loud and laughing.

He told me that he'd been shot once three times, another time only once, and stabbed twice.

I asked him why the flying f-bomb he was living in the same terrible neighborhood, starting the same stupid fights, and hanging out with the same idiots. He laughed.

--- I understand the reality of it: home is home, friends are family, life is repetition. But this kid is smart. He's funny. He's charming, attractive (save for the terrible clothing) and seems to have a good perception of the world and how it works. So what the hell?

As he was leaving he said he would be bringing in his resume soon. All I saw as he pushed open the double doors was four bullet holes burning through his shirt.

-a

Two Nicknames

So What If I'm Kinda Butch

Every Sunday is work day here on the boat, and a few weeks ago a friend snapped a few shots of the projects. The most recent installation was 100 year oldDouglas Fir flooring in the kitchen (before and after pics to come). Some neighbors of ours have dubbed me "The Most Butch Straight Girl We Know" due to the fact that they have often looked over to see me using loud power tools. Here we're staining the freshly built stairs that lead from the main deck to the upper deck.

The Band I Want To Join

A friend traveled to Denver a while back and was immersed in the music scene, befriending many of the local bands. He came home and spread the newly acquired music like wildfire, and I fell in love. Maxwell Hughes plays the guitar like he's unlocked all of it's secrets. The Lumineers sing strong and true songs in the Indi Folk genre (kind of). The two acts are currently on the road and contacted us when a gig was cancelled in our area, so I called a friend who owns a restaurant and we got them booked for a last minute show. With so little time for prep and marketing the crowd was small - delectably so. Max warmed us up with a selection of his solo stuff (he's on iTunes) and then joined the other three to do the Lumineers' set. They all played open air (no mics, amps, etc) and the intimate gathering made my soul sour. Throughout the four days that they were in our midst I had them over to the boat for dinner and asked them to play a few songs for my dad who had missed the show. I earned the nickname Adamant Ali as a result, but I also met and fell in love with four amazing people - pictured here at the show I pulled together in 2 hrs.

Wesley, Jer, Max, and Neyla - The Lumineers

(It's becoming quite clear to me that my little purple digital camera is in need of replacement)

Inspiration comes to me through creativity and creation.

On a side note - I've been meaning to make some new signs for my workplace but have grown quite rusty in the art of lettering. While researching fonts and tricks to help me get my groove back, I found a quick and easy calligraphy lesson.

Cheers!

-little a

I did it too!

I, The Muddah, participated in my very first craft fair. Okay, so it wasn't a REAL craft fair; it was an Art Stroll in El Cerrito, CA, but I showed my handiwork for the first time in public and it was received quite well.

I did it!

Finally got a picture of the finished beanie sent to me from the owner. I taught myself
how to knit through the use of various blogs and crafting books, and ended up creating my
own pattern. Quite the adventure, took forever.

I'm on someone else's computer, which is without photo editing software (how that's even possible these days is beyond me) so as you can see, not the best view of the project.

I used size 8 needles, made the band separate from the bulk of the beanie by doing 70 rows of 11 across, then for the crown part cast on 75 and tapered my way up to the top - making a triangle. As I said, I didn't really know what I was doing, but with thread and needle and a fourth try I ended up with a passable excuse - and something that I think the kid might actually wear.

My knitting machine of a mother taught me all the basics (casting on, knitting, purling, tapering, etc) and then I started my intense internet search for ideas/patterns/musings about first time projects.

For reference and ideas I looked peeked into Azzy'sCrochet and Crazy Aunt Pearl's blogs for inspiration (CAP is one of my fave bloggers in general) as well as one other that I'm digging through my notes to find again. Piece of advice for you all - ALWAYS BOOKMARK YOUR FAVES. Backtracking through cyberspace to find that one gem is hellish.

-little a

Because we're GLAD you came!

The wedding week was a success. They got married, she looked beautiful, the bridesmaids dresses actually all looked fantastic together, and it didn't rain. And that's all that matters.

For wedding favors we wrapped Gladiolus bulbs in burlap, then tied the little packages with instructions for planting.

Then on the day of the wedding we strung these bundles up in our "Giving tree" for guests to grab as they wished. We ran twine through the branches and then held up the gifts with good ol' fashioned clothes pins.

Bride and groom also made a mix cd for the guests entitled "Love Songs & Songs We Love," provided flip-flops for those who didn't plan for the outdoor wedding to actually BE outdoors, and had matchbooks with their names and wedding date embossed on the covers.

While I was there I also finished my first ever knitting project. More on that later.

-little a

Back in the game...

We're headed back to CT in a few days for my cousin's wedding, and I'm starting to fret a bit.

The bride didn't want a wedding, she didn't want bridesmaids, or the dress, or a big party. But things have happened since the engagement that changed her mind, and now suddenly we're doing it all. This means we're all chipping in to get all the little odds and ends covered.

The wedding will be at the home of the bride's parents, which is on one of the biggest lots I've ever seen. We'll be spending most of the week gardening, cleaning out the pond, getting the big white tent set up, and working on favors/decorations.

The bridesmaids (myself included) were asked to wear blue. That's all, just blue.

Who knew how hard it would be to find a dress that I could afford, that looked decent enough to be photographed in ad nauseam, and just happened to be blue?

I found one, after months of searching, at Loehmann's. Had never been before, and am glad it is now on my radar.

We'll see how it turns out. I'm a bit weary to see what shade of blue the other girls come up with, and whether or not we'll be at all cohesive. I could see it turning out to be a big mess of cotton, chiffon, paisley, and floral prints. But the bride wants what the bride wants.

My other duty is hair and make-up. Make-up I'm trained in, hair not so much. But I found this great site weddinghair.com that gives you pfd's with step-by-step instructions, so stay tuned for pics of this DIY adventure.