Yay! Dang.

I went back to work yesterday for the first time since I gave birth, but my happiness at getting on the other side of the reference desk at the library was tempered by a growing ache all over my body. By the time I was headed home yesterday afternoon, I could hardly drive. I have the flu. I was congratulating myself on Friday for not having gotten sick this winter, but it is with bitterness that I see the prematurity of my judgement. I hurt too much to knit, and while I love the idea of staying in bed for a few days, the price at which it comes is high. My brother is flying in from New York tonight, and I had such grand plans, including getting back into the rock climbing harness that has lain unused since Thanksgiving when he was last in town.

We also had to cancel our plans to take the kids to the Monster Truck Jam last night. Little C was introduced to the concept of monster trucks by the boys in her preschool class this year, and now she wants to be a monster truck driver when she grows up. Actually she wants to be a dentist, an artist, a monster truck driver, and a mom. All my life I wondered what the hell people enjoyed about monster trucks, but my heart was transformed when my five year old daughter looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said, "Will the Gravedigger be there, mom? The 'Digger is my favorite." I was always too cool to be into such a trashy thing, but now I am embracing it, and I was genuinely disappointed to miss it.

On the bright side, I have an excuse not to go jogging in the slush. And my mom is right downstairs making me ginger rosemary tea.

Of Bowling Balls and Bicycles.

I knit this hat for my sister's boyfriend A. a couple of years ago. He and my sister eschew cars, biking everywhere instead, but his head was getting cold under his helmet, so I took pity on him. This is actually the second hat I knit him; the first hat stuck to his helmet when he took it off once and then it fell out while he was walking around. He grieved it greatly, so he got another, very different hat to replace it. So you see him here, photographed last Sunday, a French boy preparing to mount his French Motobecane after a late brunch. The sun is shining and his scarf is knotted just so. And his head is warm.


Speaking of warmth, I finished the lovely Noro striped scarf. This was such a pleasure to knit, despite the ongoing, never-ending 1x1 rib. The shifting colors and the feel of the wool and silk delighted me as I went along, and I was almost sad to finish. But now I get to wear it, and that's even more delightful. And yes, that is a bowling ball over my shoulder. I love them; it's irrational, I know.

It's delightful to all and sundry.

Wooly Hat.

Here's Neph in his new Koolhaas hat. It didn't take long to knit, which is a good thing, since he asked me to give him a mohawk an hour or two before I bound off. He had cold ears in the morning and regretted his new 'do, thus he literally didn't take the hat off for two weeks except to take a shower. He slept in it and wore it to work; he even wore it into the pools at Lava Hot Springs.
We spent several hours driving around looking at houses last Saturday, with a two hour break in the middle for a friend's fifth birthday party (above). There were a few promising leads, but nothing told us we had found The House. We hadn't been out looking since before Thanksgiving, and we're really ready to find It. I've forgotten what it's like to have my own kitchen. When I think of it, it seems like the ultimate luxury.