Nov
26
2007
I’m at the Rancho visiting Teej & R this weekend. Forgot to pack the knitting needles I needed for finishing Katie’s birthday present. Luckily, TJ thought to dig out a couple of old wooden skewers which, once whittled and sanded, became double-pointed needles extraordinaire.
En route to discovering the perfect pattern for this project, I wandered through several knitters’ and crotcheters’ blogs. Like most serious hobbyists, these guys are fairly whacked: unnaturally cheerful, and so focused on the wonders of needlework that they seem oblivious to other of life’s eccentricities.
“Your doll dress is so pretty! I love it. I used to crochet dresses for these dolls, too. I still have one but my rabbit pulled all the hair off when she was looking for bedding during her false pregnancy.”
Here’s the hedgehog before assembly and after, as modeled by Teej.
Nov
24
2007
She tried to drown me once. Not long after, she poured a half-gallon of lemonade over my head just because I tried to poke her eye out with a pencil.
With those round, brown cow eyes of hers she’d look straight at Mom and Dad, pure innocence, and flat-out lie to get me in trouble. If I’d had any say in the matter, she wouldn’t be alive today. But she is and I’ve come to accept that. I would go so far as to say there are times that I’m glad she’s on this planet.
Katie is very, very funny and she’s a good writer — like E. B. White’s Charlotte, but with fewer legs. Last night, when I got yet another delightful e-mail from her, I had an inspiration: to gather some of her finest letter-writing onto this blog.
I asked her permission and, though she was bemused, she granted it. I have at least several years’ worth of her e-mails to go through, if I can figure out how to unearth them from dusty, expired data drives.
Nov
12
2007
Today the 30-something driver of the #18 Oakland-to-Richmond bus said affectionately, “Goodbye, Mom” when I disembarked.
Yesterday the checkout clerk at Andronico’s — who had ten years on me, easy — was talking about some artifact from the late forties/early fifties, which happens to be before I was born. “Ahhh, the good old days, huh?” he sighed, nodding at me meaningfully, as though we shared a memory.
What do people see when they look at me? Not what my mind sees.
These photos are at 18-year intervals. Strange… because while the last one was taken today, I’m positive I look like the Ginna in the middle.
