I've been working a lot more lately, gettin' my librarian on. Here is a peek into the back stacks of the periodical department, the place where they store all the really old bound magazines. I go back here to pull old journals and magazines by patron request. I LOVE it when I work in periodicals. Back when I was working a regular schedule, this was part of my department (now I'm a system substitute, so I work at whatever branch needs me, pretty much when I feel like taking the hours available). Periodicals also encompasses the newpapers on microfiche, which is sometimes fun and sometimes not fun because of the super-tempermental microfiche-reader machines. The stacks you see here are on runners. You use the giant spindle handles on the ends to crank them apart to get at the section you need. I always feel a thrill moving between the stacks back here, the smell of decaying ink and paper, the treasure hunt for the desired journal, often not thumbed through in years or even decades.

On My Other Job.

Peeking into the periodical stacks. It's restricted!

Here's a look at one of the older bound magazines. I didn't get a chance to peek inside these, so who knows what lies therein? The title certainly piques my curiosity though.

On a Nice Surprise.

I didn't think I had any knitting content to post today because I haven't had a spare minute to knit since Tuesday night and my gauntlets are THIS CLOSE to be being finished but haven't quite gotten off the needles yet. (I know that sentence was ridiculous in its longosity, but I also have no time to edit myself.)

Anyway, a package was waiting for me today when I got home from a fieldtrip to the zoo with W-Man's kindergarten class. I had no recollection of ordering anything except yarn two days ago and there was no way it could have arrived so fast. I thought. I opened the box and beheld the loveliness of three giant skeins of "blank" yarn, all ready for Dye-O-Rama. Now I have to order the dye and before you can say P. D. Q. Bach, I'll be ready to fire up the crockpot. I'm feeling ever so confident, thanks to Susan's, Scout's, and Adriane's tutorials. My in-laws gave me that crockpot for Christmas, like, four years ago, and I FINALLY have reason to get it out of the box! Oh yeah, the three yarns are all from Wool2Dye4; from the top:

Pony 2-ply: 100% worsted extra-fine merino; natural, unscoured. Light airy yarn for shawls, socks, baby clothes, embellishment. Fingering wt. 3,500 yards per pound.

Wool2Dye4 SuperSock: 100% merino in superwash. This 2-ply yarn is perfect for shawls, baby clothes, fie sweaters, gloves, and ... socks. Made in the USA. A little heaver than fingering wt. 1,960 ypp.

Kona Superwash Merino: 100% merino; natural, unscoured, machine washable. A must-have versatile yarn, it dyes beautifully. DK wt. 1,120 ypp.

On a Gnome.

I bought a garden gnome while buying some last minute Easter candy a couple of weeks ago. He sat on my piano while I decided what to do with him. Now he's hiding in my front yard. If, when I was seventeen, you told me that I would be the proud owner of a gnome of any sort a decade hence, I would have taken offense. I would, sir, have taken offense. But here it is. Nephi was quite startled when I plucked the courage to unveil the little man--he never saw it in my character. But here it is. And here is where he shall stay. Unless he decides to see the world, a la Amelie.

On Being at Work When I'd Rather Be Knitting in the Shade.

I'm working today, this fine and sunny Sunday. I'm much rather be brunching with the family and then heading up to Highland Perk for some grrrl time with the bamboo needles, but no, alas, I made the rash decision a month ago to work at the library today. Sundays at this small branch are nice as long as I get to work at the downstairs reference desk, but today I'm gonna have to split my time upstairs and down. The reference desk upstairs is the one that gets hit first with the crazies. Only the really determined ones make it all the way to the basement, and the basement is where the nonfiction is housed, so I fill my time here by answering actual reference questions and finding books. And messing around online. There's always so much to do.

About yesterday's hair post: that wasn't a perm, that was my hair after sleeping in foam rollers. The curly do is de rigour for Irish Dance competitions and performances, and that was the hobby o' Katherine before I had two more kids and a bladder the worse for the wear. I marched in the St. Patrick's Day parade and everything. Think Riverdance but with bigger, puffier (but still short) dresses. I can't say I miss it, but I do miss the killer gams that resulted. I still go work out with the group every once in a while, but I just don't have the time for much else (besides the previously mentioned issue). To be honest, if I could choose my own hair, I'd have a huge afro all the time. I love the feeling of a big, bouncy head of hair. But the care and keeping of it would probably get me down pretty fast.

On Hairdos.

This is what I looked like for three days in August of 2003. Back in my salad days...

...And this is what I look like today. I got a haircut this morning. And I came home to nearly finished gauntlets with the needles pulled out and stitch markers lost. That'll teach me to leave my knitting on the dining room table. Luckily I was able to fix it while watching "Memento". Have you seen this movie? I've been meaning to watch it since it showed at Sundance a few years ago and my sister said it was good. It's amazing. A head trip. I don't know how I knit ANYTHING while watching it, let alone averted major disaster.

On the Divine Pastry.

Behold the Kouing Aman (KOO-ing a-MON), the most divine pastry known to Katherine-kind, only to be found at Les Madeleines (the proprietress of which should perhaps consider changing the name to Les Kouing Amans). I brought three whole pastries home to photograph last week, but the wild Camille animal with whom I live stalked the little flock of delights until they were left alone and vulnerable on the kitchen counter, and then she pounced. She attacked her prey with pastry-lust seen only in untamed creatures and could be driven away by nothing but gunshots fired threateningly into the air by the gamekeeper. So here you see the carnage. On the bright side, it allows you to better see the buttery, sweet layers of pastry hidden within the crunchy, caramelized sugar-encrusted exterior. This stuff is the designer drug of the pastry world. Get some for yourself and partake of the sacrament of dilection that is this perfect marriage of flour, butter, salt and sugar. And unless you call 48 hours in advance, you're limited to four Kouing Amans a day. Which is sad for my metaphorical heart, but beneficial to my physical one. SheCraves agrees.

Once Upon A Tart.

So this actually, really, truly is the last photo from New York. We see here the wonderful little Once Upon A Tart, right next door to Purl, the world's smallest yarn shop (which I did not take a photo of because the front of it was covered by construction and scaffolding and trucks and men). Once Upon A Tart had the BEST mushroom potato tart I've ever tasted. I admit that it was also the only mushroom potato that I've ever tasted, but still. I want to recreate them myself now. I was slain by its simultaneous wholesome goodness and tantric sensuality, the perfection of its marriage of flavors, its perfect union of mushroom, potato, Swiss cheese, and perfect pastry crust. I don't know how those girls (and guy) at Purl maintain their figures.
By the way, at Purl they were displaying the trunk show for "One Skein" and I really loved the patterns (even though I still haven't seen the book because they had none in stock and nobody else did either). I may even buy it! 

On Elephants and Shirts.

Okay, last photo from New York, I promise. Probably. Maybe one more. Anyway, this is Skye and me in front of the bull elephant in the Museum of Natural History. I really love elephants, and I was depressed by all the dead ones there. So don't believe the smile on my face.

By the way, Bonnie, why NOT a bunny? And yes, Margene, I'm thinking about the knitting shirts. Trying to figure out exactly what I want to do--a series, like Susan requested, several smaller images, one big image? I like the idea of writing on the sleeve. I'm on it though. ON IT. Even if it turns out that I can't make it to Estes Park, ya'll will have shirts. 

The Park Next to the Cathedral

This is a bronze statue in the park right next to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It depicts a series of passages from the Book of Isaiah in which the Archangel Michael slays Lucifer and casts him out of Heaven. That's a giraffe on the upper left. It's a beautiful, if quite small, park right across the street from The Hungarian Pastry Shop and P & G Sandwiches where I had the best cold roast beef sandwich I've ever had in my life. 

On a Shirt.

This is the latest shirt that Little Sister Claire screenprinted. She made these shirts because her print department at the U of U attended the annual April college print-making conference, this year in Madison, Wisconson, and one of her professors (a very British man) said before the conference that if they (Claire's classmates and colleagues) behaved badly, he would be forced to act as if he did not know them. So Claire helped him out by printing shirts for everyone that already disavowed knowledge of the man. I have supplied Claire with a stash of shirts so that anytime she prints a run, she can do one for me too. It ups my cool quotient handily.

A Young Mona Lisa.

This is a photograph that hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I am captivated by the expression on the girl's face. It's from an exhibit called The Waking Dream: Photography's First Century. The girl was the neighbor of the photographer, a woman whose name I neglected to write down, much to my chagrin. This hung directly across the hallway from two related works by Picasso and Pollock based on the same theme of fascism. It was an interesting juxtaposition which had a slightly emotionally overwhelming effect. But then, everything had a slightly overwhelming effect at that point; it was just too much to take all at once. Also interesting to me was the difference that I noticed between the photography of men and women. I discovered that I could usually tell the sex of the artist by looking at the piece--the difference was that marked.

On Firsts.

Spotted Dog ice cream and apple pie. Two reasons to be born. And also grandmas.

It's Skye's first birthday! He's so mature that he claimed several firsts today: got off the couch all by himself, waved goodbye, ate apple pie, rode in a funny little wooden wagon, and let his mother wipe his nose without trying to eat the Kleenex. What a big, contributive member of society! He's the most charming one-year-old I know. This time a year ago, I was striding around the park near my mother's house in the light of the setting sun, grumbling about how I was NEVER going to go into labor (never mind the fact that my due date was still a week away). And of course, rather suddenly, I had a contraction and Skye was born three hours later.

More Wild and Crazy Action at Seaport.

It's Cara! Totally caught off-guard!

Ann talking to a nice lady. Told you it was a blur.

More crazy book-signing action at Seaport with Kay, here sitting next to Karola, the woman who will find you anything. She was late to the signing because she was ordering cards that actually say that. She also knits a lot.

On the Mason-Dixon Girls. And Stuff.

I'm back in the state of Utah and I'm pooped, but I'm making small inroads towards catching up on everything, including what Eliza refers to as The Internets. New York was wonderful, and now that I've recovered a bit, I'm trying to figure out why we don't live in Manhatten. Then I think about real estate values and I remember. But then I forget again. I loved Manhatten. Our skanky little hotel was right on the corner of 80th and Riverside drive, putting it smack in the middle of the west side of the upper west side. We were two blocks from H&H, three from the Museum of Natural History, and four from Central Park. Lotta fun. Skye is now conditioned to being held at almost all times due to the fact that I hardly put him down the whole trip. One of the times I did put him down was when we were in Seaport Yarns; a photo of the event is commemorated on the Mason-Dixon blog. Do ya'll know how weird Seaport Yarns is? It's a crazy place. Great prices on yarn, but it's in some sort of office/apartment and there is stuff EVERYWHERE. I don't even know how to really describe it and I was too star-struck to take a picture of the layout, much to my regret. You actually have to sign in with the guard at the front desk before you're allowed on the elevator. It was fun to meet everyone at the Mason-Dixon Knitting book signing. Kan and Ann were marvelous (see above), and everyone, but everyone, knew of Margene. A lady on the street (who I now know as Karola) saw my mother and me wandering lost while wearing handknits and she asked if we were looking for the knitting booksigning. We said yes and she promptly took us to the shop, and while en route we told her that we were from out of town. As soon as we said Salt Lake City, she wanted to know if we knew Margene. I also got to meet Cara and ... other nice knitters. It's a bit of a blur now. But it was magical. This is one of the many blurry photos that I took (or had other people take) before I realized that my camera was on a weird setting and it wasn't just the lighting. So it kind of accidentally captures the surreality of it all.

It's Snowing Here. Right Now. In April.

I'm in Manhatten right now, sitting on the tenth floor of Whittier Hall at Teacher's College. I'm flying home tonight, assuming the driving wind and snow let up (please, God, I do not want to be stuck in the airport with a disgruntled one year old, of whom I cannot ask for more good behavior than I already have). I love New York (I have partaken daily of the sacrament of the H&H bagel), but I'm saturated with all the culture I can handle, and I'm ready to be home. I spent four hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday, and I think that I simply can't take in anything more. I'm saturated. We're borrowing my brother's HUGE suitcase to lug home all the stuff we bought; cast iron horse and camel teapots, some KOIGU, some Manos, yippee-yi-ki-yay! (Nephi, don't have a heart attack when I get home--I didn't spend THAT much. Really. We'll only have to sell one of our children to pay the debt.) We went to Purl and The Yarn Company, and the last thing we're doing today before we meet the car to the airport is a book signing at Seaport Yarn for Ann and Kay of Mason-Dixon Knitting. I bought the book at The Strand on Monday and found a note tucked inside with their booktour listed; it started yesterday in Manhatten! I love reading Ann and Kay's blog and the chance to meet them is serendipitously wonderful. So wish me luck and I'll see you soon. "MWAH!" [airkiss, airkiss]