FemiKnitMafia

Back in early 2005, I got a heaping pile of Cotton Ease at Building 19.  Now they’re unloading a pile of craft books (including knitting books).  I have NO idea if they’ll be good books or not, but I’m going to take a peek.  For locations, go to the Building 19 website, and if you’re interested in how they’re advertising it, here’s the flyer:

In looking through my ‘07 resolutions, I didn’t do too poorly. Especially when you consider the two huge life changes that were unexpected and largely out of my control: the divorce and being recruited into a graduate program. Still, as I look at the list, I feel a twinge of guilt for not achieving everything I set out to do. It’s silly, I know. But I’m a striver like that.

However, this year I pledge to be a realist. Life is short. Relationships are unpredictable. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. Therefore, I intend to focus more on the present, less on the future, and way less on what other people are doing/accomplishing. Accordingly, my goals are:

Human
… pay attention and go with the flow
… continue to be mindful of my body, fitness and health
… continue to love my little boy with all of my heart, and make all decisions with his needs in mind
… regularly tell friends and family how much I appreciate them

Employee & Student
… focus. focus. focus. produce. produce. produce.
… imagine. envision. create.

Home-owner
… buy a mattress & box spring
… buy a couch
… make wise financial decisions

Creator
… look to the stash (both fabric and fiber) before buying anything new
… finish some WIPs
… have fun

In looking back, I realize that I finished more crafty projects in 2007 than I thought.

It’s funny how you can forget about things that are finished and gifted away, temporary, perpetually in progress, or outgrown. If you ignore all of those items, that leaves 2 pairs of socks, one washrag, a pair of mittens, a hat, and my first skein of handspun. No wonder I’m forgetting my accomplishments!
I fudged the definition a little to allow the Dale to make the cut. After all, I finished the whole body. That’s a finished object, right?

Note to self: try to take more photos of completely finished objects before using/gifting them.

In a moment of crazy youthful impulsiveness, and thanks to blogless Deanna’s tip, I convinced Cheryl to drive across the state to Northampton tonight to see an incredible New Year’s Eve show at the Calvin: Melissa Ferrick, Erin McKeown and Alix Olson, together! There’s also talk of additional surprise guests, and I bet Pamela Means will be one of them. I am so f-ing excited I can barely contain myself!!! Happy Dance. Happy. Happy. Happy. Dance. After the show, we’ll drive east in the wee hours, crash hard, and then go to Danielle’s for the afternoon. What a way to welcome the New Year! Hoooooray!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Xifey and I split custody** of the house and Little Man for the weekend, so LM and I hit the road. We imposed upon two very generous friends for an overnight in Ithaca NY, and were graced with a in-person performance on the Cornell Chimes at the McGraw Tower. Despite huffing and puffing up 161 steps, this was a very cool experience. I’ve never been inside a giantic clock, nor have I ever seen the bells, the instrument, or the effort required to play it. Fascinating.

It requires both hands and a foot to play this thing.

This is the practice room, so LM got to play.

Here’s the inside of the clock, a 1875 Seth Thomas clock with a 14-foot long pendulum and huge gear-driven mechanical workings.

And the Bellfry, which houses 21 enormous bells.

And the View of Ithaca from the Bellfry

The next morning, we explored the Sciencenter, an incredible children’s museum that was nearly as fun for the adults as for children. My favorite/most embarassing moment: The Scream Chamber.

That photo was taken mere moments before I closed the door, screamed as loud as I could, and opened the door to a crowd of people staring at me. Yeah, the booth was apparently NOT soundproof. So I acted like that was all part of the plan: I read my score of 117 on the scream-ometer, and partnered a congratulatory fist pump with a “yes!”. Then I quickly disappeared to privately experience the horror of screaming bloody murder in front of a crowd of peace-loving-Ithaca-hippie parents. Well done, Mafia, well done.

* Northampton is, of course, lesbian mecca #1.

** Custody was only decided for a 5 day period, and there is much gnashing of teeth and butting of heads about the long-term plans.

If the Yarn Harlot can create verbs, so can I. I’ll see your Kinnearing and raise you one Harlotizing.

Harlotize
verb (harlotized, harlotizing)
1. The act of the Yarn Harlot linking to your blog.
2. The panic that grips a blogger when their blog stats go wild: She was so harlotized that she couldn’t even click the mouse without twitching.

3. When bloggers hide: She ran off to Alaska after she was harlotized.
4. The evil grin of the Harlot when she realizes that another blogger will face a mere 1,000,000th of the exposure that she deals with every day: She was harlotizing in glee at the thought of some blogger twitching behind the computer screen.

Here’s hoping that all the new visitors were so horrified by my irreverence that they returned to their nice normal lives unscathed. Nothin’ to see here …

except maybe a cute boy in his new Kenneth Cole suit ($20 down from $88 at Macy’s!!) that we bought for an upcoming family wedding. My boy in a suit! I’m beside myself with pride!

Now we have to convince him to wear real shoes. Maybe.

‘Member the green high heel sandal identity crisis of aught-6? Well, I’m back there again, only with a little less identity crisis. Look Ma, I’m selling out growing up!

Tonight is the big gay fundraiser. Lots of gay. Lots of money. And I’m ready to woo the rich ladies and leave them heartbroken at the end of the night. [that was for Wifey's benefit. Hi Wifey! ]

In 3 inch heels, I’m gigantic, and thanks to blogtographer Danielle, I present evidence here for all to see. I’m sorry, but there will be no cleavage shots this year. My poor freckly Irish chest is fighting off a wee sunburn.

And a close up of the shirt. [tis Banana. let us never again discuss the ridiculous amount of money I spent on one effing shirt. nor shall we discuss the double-chin or my inability to crop photos from my work computer.]

And the shoes, which actually match the shirt. [Marshall's $20! Now that's more like it.]

As my thanks to Danielle for being my faithful blogtographer, I’m posting a request to anyone who graduated from a 4-year college in the U.S. to go help Danielle with a project. It’s a quick and painless survey that qualifies you for a knitting-related prize if you leave a comment here.

Another request, if I may … can you think good strong money thoughts tonight? Life, icky life and some really icky life interfered with the planning of the fundraiser this year, but I’m still hopeful that we’ll raise some money for the organization. Chant with me now? Money, money, money. Charity. charity. charity. Philanthropy. philanthropy. philanthropy. Thanks.

If we do well, I might have knitting to share tomorrow …

ETA: Further proof that Danielle rocks — she recreated last year’s good luck card and slid a plain manilla folder across my desk with this inside:

Oh yes, the joy of fundraising humor. We’re a funny breed.

And now you’ve seen as much of my Wife as I have in the last 20 hours. She was one of the crazy souls who showed up at the bookstore at 12midnight last night, and she’s already 350 pages into it.

Me? I’m a little behind. I’m almost 1/2 way through Book 5, which is fun, but since we saw the movie last weekend, I already know how it ends.

But I DON’T know how Book 6 ends, so please don’t tell me. By some pop culture miracle, I’ve avoided hearing who dies at the end, and I’m trying to catch up. So no spoilers OK?

The little angel is sitting on my right shoulder telling me to finish the syllabus for the class that I start teaching on Monday night. The little devil is telling me to read Book 5. And let’s not even discuss the state of my house and pile of unpaid bills. Oy.

ETA: At 11am on Sunday Wifey stopped reading to mourn the end of an era.  She didn’t want to finish.  Didn’t want it to end.  Then she plowed through the last 100 pages and finished by 12noon.  I’m still 1/2 way through Book 5, but I’m ready to teach tomorrow night.  Syllabus? check. Lecture notes? check. Handouts? check.  goooood night . . . z z z z z z . . .

In three hours, Little Man and I* will board a train** headed for Philly to see the BFF&exGF#2; attend a BBQ at the suburban home of another dear friend from college; go to Sesame Place (the original reason for the trip); check out the Please Touch Museum; lounge on the beach; scour the sale baskets for el cheapo yarn at Loop while simultaneously preventing Little Man from unwinding anything expensive; stroll through the Magic Garden & let Little Man touch everything; gorge on crepes; introduce Little Man to the glory of hand-drawn noodles; pick up a new rainbow sticker for our not-even-a-little-gay car at Giovanni’s Room [why the bleep doesn't Boston have a gay bookstore?]; and search for fabric for Little Man’s quilt on Fabric Row.

We’ll be back in Boston on Sunday afternoon. Have a great weekend everyone!

* Wifey will be sitting on a beach with her head stuck in a book for 5 days. She might shake the sand out of her panties long enough to take a yoga class or go to the gym. In any case, this is a much-needed break for this grad-school-attending, full-time-urban-school-teaching, tolerating-my-shit mama. Pray for sunshine.

** Yes, I’m taking a 4-year-old on a 6-hour train ride (12 hours roundtrip). Fear for me. Thankfully he should sleep most of the way down; it’s the return trip that I worry about. But I have a heap of stuff to keep him entertained. Still — fear for me. Or him? Fingers tightly crossed.

——

ETA: Ooops, I almost forgot to share the toes of my Elinor’s Poseidon socks for my SockPal. With two train rides, hopefully there will be more to show come Sunday night.

And with 5 days of Little Man love, I’m sure I can negotiate some spinning time on Sunday, so I can add to this bobbin.

Later y’all!

ETA: As if Scooter shock isn’t enough today, check out this WTF moment, courtesy of my MIT pal Katie. Really? Lesbian gangs? If only … O’Reilly’s hairy ass woulda been snuffed long ago.

For real. I’m out.

I’m so delighted today, I can barely contain my joy. This post will be an honorary Favorite Things Monday post, because I’m just ooozing favorite things.

1) Hooray Massachusetts. How I love thee! Thanks for allowing me to legally harass on a daily basis legally stay married to the woman I love.

2) Your comments.  Truly. Wonderful. Heartfelt. Appreciated.

3) As I mentioned about a year ago, I’m a professional fundraiser, and one of my clients is the primary force behind this victory. Simply stated: I raised a lot of money so that Arline Isaacson could eat/sleep/breath gay marriage lobbying. So this feels like a professional victory too, one that I’m very proud of. This picture (stolen from the Globe site) makes me weak with joy.

No matter what you may read, these two women are the power behind this victory. Arline Isaacson (the one who’s weeping) is the co-Director of the Massachusetts Gay & Lesbian Political Caucus, and Norma Shapiro is the lobbyist for the Massachusetts ACLU. They’ve been lobbying on this issue together for years. In addition to the current-day consulting I’m doing, I worked very closely with them professionally about six years ago, so I know first-hand how hard they work, how powerful they are, and how much this means to them. The Globe wrote about the power of everyone who called, emailed and visited their legislators, and clearly, that won the day.  Thanks to MassEquality for that!  But I happen to know that Arline & Norma played a huge role in this victory and that they’re too humble to highlight their own impact. So I say — Thank you and Congratulations!! I’ll be calling donors tonight, and I plan to ask a particularly helpful donor to buy Arline a weekend at a spa. She really needs a weekend away.

4) In celebration, I got a wee present for myself. Additional background: I was supposed to start teaching again in 10 days, but my class was cancelled for under-enrollment. Yet, I’m teaching another summer class that starts in late July, so I have a small window of freedom. Yippee! A little freedom + a historic gay marriage decision + Little Man’s need for a quilt + my guilt about ignoring said need for a year = a little of this

a little of that,

a little of this,

and a heaping pile of that,

which will also become pj pants for me. I’ve been absolutely lusting over this Hippie Bus fabric for months.

5) Hello Yarn Adrian’s Ireland vacation photos. I’m mere moments (and a sugar mama) away from buying three plane tickets to Ireland. In the meantime … does anyone know if Ireland has a right-of-return policy*? You know … just in case another Republican wins the Presidency?

*[it does, but I miss it by one generation. hrumpf.]

6) Soulemama’s newest creation. I really want those little green trees and the plump green apples. Must find that fabric, despite it being sold out on Superbuzzy.

7) Kat’s amazing photo of the Boston Public Garden. The delight of waiting for Kate Gilbert’s Marina Piccola sock pattern, which I intend to make for my SockPal using Sophie’s Toes in the Fresh Air colorway.

See? I told you I was bursting with joy.  Have a great weekend y’all!

Thanks to everyone for the thoughts, tips, empathy and laughs about the bat in my house. Special thanks to Mel for the article on the risks. Let’s not discuss the call to the vet to ask if all the animals are up-to-date on their vaccine (they are), or to the pediatrician when I asked if Little Man was up-to-date on his vaccine - hint: there isn’t one for humans (DOH!).

Today I woke up in serious belly-pain, so I stayed home to rest on my couch. Perhaps the pending vote at the State House has filled my belly with anxiety? In any case, I’m anxiously awaiting news. The Constitutional Convention starts at 1pm. I’m nervous. Go, Arline, go!

Please don’t take away my marriage. Please.

ETA (11:50am): If you’re insane obsessive interested, Bay Windows is publishing a Con-Con blog that’s been updated every 10-15 minutes. Since I don’t have TV, this will be my news source today.

ETA (11:59am): File under WTF(!):” Cardinal Sean P. O’Malley called lawmakers this morning, leaving messages encouraging them to vote to place the referendum on the ballot.

“He’s just making some calls to legislators, leaving messages, saying it’s not a Catholic issue only, but it’s an issue of fairness for the 170,000 people who put their names on the referendum,” said O’Malley’s spokesman, Terrence C. Donilon. He declined to name the lawmakers O’Malley is calling, but said, “he’s calling people who are getting unduly pressured, and who might need some reassurance.”

Tax exempt, huh?

ETA (12:23pm): Who knew the House had a webcast? It’s so very 21st c. If you want gavel to gavel coverage, go here and click on the “Click Here” on the right sidebar to open your media player. For the other Mac users out there, you’ll need to download the Flip4Mac tool in order to watch it.

ETA (1:23pm): WE WON!!!!!!!  IT’S DEAD!

Here’s a re-run for Blogging for LGBT Families Day.

No Baby Daddy & Bloggie Break

Thank you SO much for all the wonderful Surro-Wifey and Daddies love.

It was nothing short of magical to participate in this surrogacy. All the cranky-Wifey moments were completely erased as I watched the Dads bond with their new baby girl. Unbelievable. Truly incredible.

That said, the best story about the unique experience of a lesbian couple doing a surrogacy for two gay dads in Massachusetts (got all that?) is that I was required to sign an affadavit of non-paternity. Yes. Really. Because B-Dad is the bio-Dad, and despite the fact that they used an egg donor, Wifey is still considered the “mother” until non-bio S-Dad completes his co-parent adoption. Have I lost you yet? The birth certificate administrator at the hospital was twisted into a pretzel trying to force the computer to accept her data entry. Apparently a male husband is the presumed father of a baby born to his female wife while they’re married. Sure. Fair enough. But … if he’s not the baby daddy, he fills out an affidavit stating that yes, they’re married, and no, he’s not the father. Because Wifey is legally married in Massachusetts, the computer lists her as such. So when the birth certificiate lady tried to enter B-Dad and Wifey as “father” and “mother,” the computer spit it back, requiring that I, as Wifey’s spouse, sign off my paternity rights. Enter the Mafia, an Affadavit of Non-Paternity, a Bic pen, and loud peals of laughter. This was certainly the most ridiculous thing I have ever signed. Let it be known: I am not now, nor will I ever be H-Baby’s Daddy. Signed: The Mafia, with love.

With Wifey recovering from the c-section (read: no housework, driving, child care, or lifting anything over 10 pounds for two weeks, and no work for an additional 4 weeks) and with the Mafia teaching TWO classes at a local university (in addition to my full-time gig at MIT), it’s time for a big bloggie break. At worst, it’ll be a 6 week break, but realistically, I won’t last that long. I’ll miss everyone. Be back soon. Smooch!

-originally blogged on February 21st

*** Go check out the other Blogging for LGBT Families Day posts. The list will grow all day long, so check back often.