Manhattanites, I laugh at you and your "snow". I was warned last night that I would find the streets 'difficult to navigate' with my luggage. At Grand Central Station, I bundled up and braced myself for extreme cold and mountains of...
NOTHING!

True, the streets are wet. Absolutely, there is that small wall of plowed snow along that sidewalk that prohibits brazen jaywalking, but it laughable to me. This morning, Joe and I cleaned 5" of snow from the car. Thankfully, Joe drove me to the train station because I would have had to hire a team of huskies to get my Nervous Nellie ass to the station otherwise.

Is it even Winter in Manhattan? I saw several Carrie Bradshaw wanna-bes slogging through the dirty slush and wet streets in stilletos and cute suede shoes. Stilletos and winter are mutually exclusive in my world. Nevermind that snow boots and polar fleece are the are required uniform for survival.

Enough blogging! I have to carouse around the NYC yarn stores.

I awoke several times during the night in either a hot sweat or a cold one. It meant nothing to me until my stomach started churning and wrenching shortly before the hour of my departure for work. I decided to give myself a few minutes of rest. After thirty, I felt no better.

To the phone I went, and called in sick on what is my third-to-the-last day of work.

In a fit of illness and egotism, I decided to see what results I would find on Goggle with "lumay". The sixth hit? Chip Goddess (Given my recent rant about weight gain, I think this is appropriate, poignant, and hilarious).

Amanda is my supplier of New Orleans-style coffee. It is a wonderful and noble thing she does. I, on the other hand, supply this woman with Heinz Ketchup Flavored Chips -- on sale from the local Mobile. It sounds unseemly, but she cannot find them in Baton Rouge, and who am I to decline the culinary desires of my fellow Knitty Board friends?

I finished the knitting portion of my Rowan hat, but the seaming to be re-done. I had seamed the back of the hat a few weeks ago; I must have been drunk on mulled cider, or whacked out with post-accident back pain, because the seaming was a mess. It was Frankenstein-ish.

There is still plenty of I-cord before I can call the ChicKami finished. Given that I spent Sunday digging my car out from 12+" of snow, the Kami can probably sit for another month or so in the knitting basket.

What is next? Clapotis continues to taunt and haunt me. Will I ever find the perfect yarn? Teva Durham's lovely Turtleneck Shrug is in the gestation stage. With only a few inches completed, the whole thing feels "off". There is absolutely no "flow". Maybe it will come, or maybe the project is for another time?

Hopefully, flow and inspiration will come tomorrow night at knitting class. Surely, I will be inspired by a week in NYC.

Granted, I am not much for televised sports, but it would suit this Pittsburgh native and former Philadelphia resident to see the Stillers play the Iggles on Sundee.

Claudia discovered a horror of knitting nightmares in her bottom drawer. Spurred on by cabin fever and a determination to live a more quality life, I attacked my bottom drawer. There are no knit disasters hiding there, rather, my overwhelming collection of under-used workout gear. I pared it down to the items I am most likely to use (when I get around to working out again).

Undetered, I moved on to the middle drawer, which holds my "dainties". I was shocked to discover that I own 29 thongs -- all of which are far too small to wear during my current life as a pudgeball. Add in the cute sets and the ever-growing collection of granny panties, and I have a collection of 40+ unmentionables. This pales in comparision to my friend Moya's collection. "Dear Lord, I have 85 pairs of knickers!" she exclaimed during a telephone conversation this summer. Given Moya's penchant for shopping, I have no doubt that she has topped 100 by now.

I would like to rest somewhere between Moya (who will be mortified that I have shared her knicker addiction on the internet) and Stephanie, (who owns one bra and four pairs of shoes). That is just a bit too streamlined for me.

It is the excessive collecting that I am trying to curb. For instance, I own several pairs of stylish reading glasses, because, in spite of my current 20/20 vision, I will require reading glasses one day.

As for knitting, I am forbidden to knit until I have organized the 4 drawers of my bureau. Socks and makeup are the top two drawers. Half-drawers, so that should go quickly. I hope to be casting on for something by 7:00pm! Unless, I am forbidden to begin a new project before I finish the outstanding ones. This organization and flow thing is a real pain in the arse!

My soon-to-be-former company sent out an announcement to clients, friends, family, etc. about a new line of accessories: scarfs (sic). I think they will be launched hosale (sic) soon, which means that you will be able to buy them retail in roughly two months. Keep your eyes open.

Here's another marketing gaff from a "comfort" shoe company. Cute, but the name... Pinch Me? Perhaps the time is right for my shoe design -- Bunion.

Actually, I wonder if the world is ready for a line of ironic clothing? FatAss Designs. Sounds like a winner.

Moment of Epiphany
Sitting alone in a room for 7 hours can make you very aware of you and your life, which is what happened to me today. The catalyst might have been a greasy lunch of Seasame Chicken. Quite simply, my life is out of control. Since my move from NYC, I have stopped working out, have stopped walking, have gained 30 lbs., and have started eating like a Jerry Springer guest. Basically, I have failed to control my consumption (of food and goods), thus, I spent the afternoon outlining a plan for getting my life back to where I feel it should be.

Sadly, I spent $50 on an oil change and car wash. The crime is that I really need that $50 for me. My entire body needs to be waxed. I have taken to cutting my own hair. I am sadly in need of a bit of beautifying. But owning a car is a bit like having a child. It comes first. Without it, my life in the country would stop. The nearest destination is 2 miles, and it is and active prision which houses the NYS electric chair. Not much of a destination, really.

Moment of Levity
The ShhhhProject is finished and soaking my carpet blocking. Now, I must tackle the Rowan hat and the ChicHoneymoonKami. According to Accuweather, I should be able to finish both this weekend.

Last night was knitting class, and I accomplished nothing. I was so bored with swatching for my new project, Bloom

that focused on grilling a classmate (who lives and works on a local monastic farm) about farm life, farm animals, cheese, spinning, honey, etc.

Attempts to finish my other outstanding Rowan Magazine 36 project (the cute orange cloche) were met with yawns. Please do not mention the ChicKami. I just have a distinct lack of finishing fever.

The only project capable of holding my attention beyond a few rows is my Shhhhh!Project.
Sunday night, I cast on and was knitting away when I noticed that my results were not a match to the results pictured in Last Minute Knitted Gifts. Not even close. I dug out the errata sheets that I had downloaded, and sure enough...

In spite of the false start, the project is coming along nicely. I could have certainly finished it much faster, but I am enjoying the process of working with the yarn. I am using Karabella Aurora Bulky in a chocolately color, and it is a pure pleasure to knit.

A Knitty Swap package arrived yesterday -- tattered beyond words -- but the contents (yarn) were safe and secure. I swapped a Morehouse Merino kit for some lovely handspun/hand dyed yarn from another Knitty knitter, as well as two skeins of Nature Spun in a handsome berry shade.

Joe left tonight for a conference. Typically, I am the traveller of the house, whilst Joe and the kids stay put. I do not think that I have ever slept alone in our bed. Weird.

Just to let you know why I am such a snob regarding pronunciation, I am a Pittsburgher (already a clue to the linguistic delights of the Steel City). Before the intervention of speech classes, I ruthlessly murdered the language.

Turn up your audio, run through the links, give it a go, and laugh your butt off!
#4 is my favorite.
Pittsburghese

Oh, for the record: I gave my notice Monday.

Language is a strange and wonderful animal. Dialect, regionalisms, and slang aside, I marvel at the variations that exist within this mutually-shared language known as American English. Our 43rd President has spawned a publishing niche with his mysterious language. W is a marvelous example of how each one of us butchers our native tongue in some manner.

When did shrimp come to need another S to make it plural? Isn't feet already plural? For some reason, unknown to me, I often commit this crime with the name of a multi-national bookstore. Barnes & Nobles. Clearly, I know that it is Noble, but somehow, that extra S falls out of my mouth.

Given that American English includes words from other languages, it is easy to fall prey to mispronunciation. Ochialli, Schadenfreude, and Billet-doux would not roll off the tongue easily without an understanding of the pronunciation rules of the native language.

This is not a matter of regionalisms and/or dialects, but rather, outright mispronunciation. It is the words that occur naturally (and frequently) in our language, mispronounced by highly educated or egomaniacal native speakers, that I am after.
Nuclear. A word mangled by Carter and Bush.
There are some gems that set my nose out of joint.
Hosale
Brehfist
Regooler
Athalete
Ekcetra

One day soon, I will post about knitting or some other craft. I promise.

At 3:06 Friday morning, I awoke with a fire in my throat and a plank in my back. In spite of the fact that I was not in a serious accident, I still suffered some back/neck trauma. Perhaps "trauma" is too strong a word. But when you are pulling at the side of the bed to help yourself roll out, only to arise and find yourself more stiff than Al Gore and more stooped than Quasimodo, it is utterly traumatic.

Since misery loves company, my throat decided to give a bit of the latter to my neck and shoulders, which meant plenty of the former for me. Friday through Sunday, any visitor to my home would have found me and my blankie hogging the couch and television.

Friday, my search for a quick fix resulted in a trip to my primary care physician's office, where I was offered muscle relaxers. I left with a chiropractic referral, without the Rx (my choice), and with the knowledge that "fire-throat" was not strep. I spent the afternoon phoning the list of network chiropractors, but I was only able to find a non-networker who could see me Saturday -- rather than 'later next week'.

Saturday morning, I awoke, ready for some serious back cracking. Instead, I met the zealous chiropractor who s-p-o-k-e(!) to me about the wonders of chiropractic. Sir, I am not here for words. I need a laying on of hands, a manipulation of the spine, a crack of the neck. Heal me!

Work was tiring today -- on all fronts. My boss ignored me for the short time he was in the office. Understandably, he is pissed that did not work Friday, but there was no way I could help with the setup of a tradeshow booth in my state. Of course, this is my sissy take on the situation. According to him, I should been at work since 'she's not in a coma'. He is definately on the list for the shit short list for the Boss of the Year Award!

All of my worrying and wondering about driving in the snow is over.
I had my first car accident today.

The local roads were still a mess at 8:15am, but I headed to work anyway. What choice did I have? There is a tradeshow looming, my boss is not the sort to forgive a missed day because of snow, etc.

In spite of having mowed down a street sign and several mailboxes, the state of my car is rather pristine.

A bit blurry, but those marks are not frozen bird poo; they are scratches. How I managed to escape with so little damage is a small miracle. As for me, my neck, shoulders, and back are quite sore. Otherwise, I am fine.

I learned a little something about samaritanism, and it was not so flattering to my neighbors. Four cars whizzed by without a glance in my direction. A local guy with a truck, a plow, and a capitalist eye stopped and offered to pull me out. I thanked him and mentioned that I would prefer to make use of my AAA membership. Another tow truck came by, offered to pull me out and give me a receipt to submit to AAA. I thanked him as well.

Who finally helped me? A woman with two children. She stopped to ask if I was ok, and she called 911 for me. It was a little shocking: barely two weeks after a tragic tsunami, and only one person had the decency and concern to stop? Renewing my faith in humankind was the responding Sheriff. He was patient and polite -- even joking a bit to put me at ease.

There was a point, as I sat alone in the back of the police car, that I wanted to cry. I also wanted to laugh. Hysteria, anyone? The sight of those slain mail boxes and the toppled street sign -- Rough Lane, no less -- was just too much for me.

Now comes the roughest road of all: getting back in the car and driving to work tomorow. Between the psychological game of getting behind the wheel in similar wheather conditions and the utter lack of concern from work has me a bit tweaked.

The sheriff lent me his cell to phone into work. None of the owners were in (at 9:30am, thank you). I suppose one does not like to risk plowing over signs and posts with an Audi. My co-worker's response to my accident was a very flat, "Oh. Bad or just a fender bender?" I swear it sounded as if she was hoping for juicy and gorey. She then asked if I wanted the home or cell phone number of my boss and his wife/company co-owner. I told her that I would try to phone back later. The sheriff overheard the conversation and said, "Please don't tell me that they gave you attitude and still expect you to come in".

Not only that, Sheriff, no one from work has bothered to phone me to see how I am.

2005

New Year's Eve was a day of milling around New Paltz, eating Vietnamese, and watching the ball drop in Times Square -- from the comfort of our couch.

In general, there is not much to report. I am still plodding along with the Honeymoonized ChicKami, as well as the band for a Rowan hat pattern.

Tonight was knitting class, which is almost like a knitting circle. Class is wonderfully calming, and it is a pleasure to share time with such a mixed and interesting group of women. We welcomed a new addition to the class tonight. She works on a local farm. The farm makes cheese, honey, and yarn. Sign me up! Sadly, I supect that flirty skirts and kitten heels are not proper farm attire.

I am feeling a bit "lost" at the moment. My work life is not fulfilling, which makes me very unhappy. It seems that no job makes me happy, and that is a problem for someone who needs to work for a living. I simply ask that the work be meaningful, challenging, and enriching. So far, no good.

Resolutions? Inspired by Kate, I wrote a few things down that I would like to do during the course of the year, which included items to knit, language(s) to (re)learn, travel, and all of that.

In the wake of ongoing world events, I am thankful that I was able to celebrate the new and old year with a home, a family, and more material possessions than I care to admit that I own. Like many of you, war, tsunami, and auld lange syne make me aware of just how blessed and lucky I am.

To that end, I have only one resolution: To live with meaning and authenticity.