Alternate

Seaman's Cap

Yarn: Cascade 220 (100% Peruvian highland wool; worsted weight)
Colorways: 8555 (black) and 7824 (orange)
Needles: US 6 and 7 dpns
Stitches: 102

I wasn't necessarily set on going to this week's knit night until I carelessly dropped a couple stitches in a late decrease row Sunday evening. I know how to pick up dropped stitches but not when I've been knitting them together in previous rows. Now my attendance would be imperative. What was a paralyzing error in my hands became, in no time, another repaired project by the knit night's designated mistake fixer. (Surely there's a better title than that we can give her.) One unexpected bonus from attending tonight was the unseasonably mild weather, which everyone enjoyed on the patio of a Mexican restaurant.

If we were talking artworks, this hat would be called a companion piece to a hat I made my dad. It's supposed to recall the old NFL knit hats I remember from when I was a kid. I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for, but essentially it was something like this:

except there wasn't any writing. (Or so my memory says.) I'm also thinking the color scheme was like what I just finished: black brim, orange body. Unless I'm imagining it, I had one of those Bengals cuffed knit hats with a pom. I've recreated it, more or less.

I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. The colors are a nice contrast in what's sure to be a good football weather hat...unless the Bengals are an embarrassment this upcoming fall and winter. But let's only think good thoughts about the franchise.

Conduit for sale

All right, so by few, if any, objective standards am I old, but when bands from your college days reform and do reunion shows--and you buy a ticket--there's definitely a feeling of the years having gone by in a hurry. It doesn't seem that long ago that I heard Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain for the first time, yet when I see Pavement play in town this fall, it will have been 16 years since that album was released. What?!

That recognition of time flying by was reinforced when I saw the announcement for a record label's 21st anniversary three-day concert this fall. The lineup is a ridiculously great collection of bands. Then I realized that many of them were big in an underground sort of way when I was still in school or just out of it.



I remember when obtaining Belle & Sebastian's first album was relatively difficult as only a limited number of copies had been printed on vinyl and sold in Scotland. Until it was released on CD, all I had was a copy someone from a listserv recorded on an audio cassette (!) and mailed to me. The second side of the tape featured a BBC performance with songs that were otherwise unavailable as well. I really liked the music, but in retrospect, the mystery about the band added to the allure.



Make no mistake that it is too soon for any serious reminiscing, yet part of the accelerated nostalgia that's in the ether probably stems from how monumentally things have changed in a relatively short period of time. While doing the math doesn't show that many years have passed, it practically looks like another era from when I first heard the majority of this music.

The album I mentioned above was released in 1994. Using that year as a milestone, I can say that:

-I didn't have an e-mail address or use the internet. In fact, I doubt I'd heard about these things.
-I can't think of anyone I knew who had a cell phone.
-If you wanted directions to somewhere, you needed to check a map and figure it out or talk to someone who knew.

Does that world seem familiar at all now? Dial back sixteen years before that and would the times have been significantly different?

Bailout

I intended to have my latest FO to display today, but as I was working on the decreases last night, somehow I made a mistake that I can't correct. I'm not exactly sure what I did, but I think I accidentally (and unknowingly) slipped the final two stitches off the needle, which proceeded to drop a couple rows down. Since these are k2tog stitches on the decrease rows, who knows what I should do to repair them? (Answer: not me.)

I tried using a crochet hook to fix the problem, but yeah, that's not working. So it looks like I've had my mind made up for me regarding attending this week's knit night. I need bailed out. I'll be there Wednesday.

Bits and pieces

-Do you ever get the feeling that some people send or respond to work e-mails at certain times to indicate how hard they're working or to suggest that you ought to be working too? (Hello Friday afternoon at 4:55 p.m. and late weekend evenings.) I'm not saying I've never done it, but in dealing with some particular people I've found this practice extremely irritating.

-That being said, I've learned that I need not always be available when it comes to work matters.

-We haven't received much rain around here lately, but a couple brief, intense storms have produced some lightning flashes that have been too close for comfort. This reminds me that when I was a kid we were told that during storms we should avoid being on the telephone and taking a shower or bath. (Obviously those are intended to be separate items. Talking on the phone while bathing cancels out a storm's potential for bad consequences.) We'd even turn off the TV sometimes. I'm wondering now, though, if this is actual good advice and if it is still passed along. The phone probably doesn't factor into this unless you're still using one with a cord, I'm guessing.

-How is it that July is nearly here?

Slow

Kind of a quiet day around these parts. I took in another movie, which made five in about 24 hours (and in three different locations), and then stayed close to home. I watched the USA lose to Ghana in a frustrating World Cup performance, played Peggle on my phone, and went out for some exercise after a brief but nasty storm passed through. Oh, and I made good progress on my current WIP.

I'm now done with the brim of the hat and have changed colors. If memory serves, this part of the hat goes relatively quickly. I have no big plans for tomorrow, so at the rate I'm going, maybe I'll finish it then. That's more like the pace I used to keep when it came to knitting. What changed? Beats me.

Commitment to the cause

So it's no secret that I haven't had much time for knitting in recent months...or haven't made much time for it. Today I did something about it.

For whatever reason the current WIP, a hat pattern I've knit plenty of times, has me jazzed about working on it. I knew I was going to be out and about for most of the day but would have a decent amount of time in between a couple things.

First off was seat selection for the Blue Jackets. I arrived early so I could promptly check in and improve the odds of securing an aisle seat for my ten-game plan. Earliness was a virtue as I didn't have to wait until my appointed time. With my seat chosen and registered before the time I was scheduled to look for it, I had about an hour and a half to burn before my next destination. So to the coffee shop for breakfast and knitting it would be.

Perhaps the reason why I've responded so well to knitting this hat is because I made no mistakes casting on, joining in the round, or knitting the early rows. In other words, there was no miscounting of cast on stitches or twisting of them. Progress equals enthusiasm.

This was the first occasion in some time that I've knit in public on my own, and it was nice to slip back into the bubble. With the iPod earbuds in, I honestly couldn't tell you if I was drawing stares or comments. I worked on the project at hand and let the rest around me fade. This was a four movie day for me, so I also had time between two of them to wile away. Having utilized all this spare time for knitting, I'm already a good way through the slower part of the hat.

For what it's worth, knitting and crocheting made cameo appearances in two of the films I saw. A tiresome grandmother is glimpsed knitting in Grown Ups. (Typically I'm not fond of Adam Sandler films, and this one was certainly no exception to the rule.) In the 1948 classic The Red Shoes, a woman is crocheting in an early scene on the stage. Perhaps she's making a piece of a costume for a ballerina.

I feel bad for writing only about an inconsequential moment for what is truly one of the great films, so let me mention that the lengthy ballet sequence in the middle of The Red Shoes is one of the most beautiful and astounding parts of any movie I've seen. Check it out in two parts. (Watching it on a computer doesn't do justice to it like the gorgeous 35mm print I saw does, but it should still play.)

On the needles

Not much to speak of today, but I thought I'd mention that I selected my next project. True, it's none too exciting, but it's something that's been on the back burner for awhile and should be done in time well before it's needed.

That's right, it's another hat. Specifically, it's this hat with the colors reversed. For the record, the colors represent the Cincinnati Bengals.

If I can get my act together, which has been a big question of late when it comes to my knitting, I ought to have this done in no time flat and then can maybe move onto something more exotic like toe up socks or something for that future niece or nephew.

Gooooooooal!

I'm not a huge soccer fan. I never played, which may be due to being born just a little early for its prominence as a youth sport. (My three younger brothers all played.) I keep track of the local Major League Soccer franchise, although not like I once did. It's something I'll watch if it's on, but outside of a key national team match, I don't necessarily make a point of searching for the games.

Nevertheless, I have an appreciation for The Beautiful Game, as it is often called, especially every four years when the World Cup gives it a huge international stage. I first paid attention to it in 1994 when the United States hosted. I watched a fair number of the games and found the tournament to be rather exciting.

In 2002 the pro soccer franchise here held viewing parties at the stadium for the World Cup. There's nothing strange about that...except the games were usually being played in the dead of night in this part of the world. For whatever reason a friend and I went to it at something like 4 a.m. on a weekday to check out the event and the first U.S. match. Would you believe that there were so many people who showed up that the big tent was full, so they directed the rest of us to the stadium's bleachers to watch on the scoreboard? I attended several more of these viewing parties and really got into it. Certainly beats watching at home by yourself.

This morning I chose to go to work later so I could watch the USA-Algeria match. Much of the criticism from this country's sports media and fans toward soccer is concerned with the low scores or lack of scoring altogether, but in a match like this, the difficulty in putting one in the back of the net is what made it such a nerve-jangling viewing experience. When the USA buried the game's lone goal in stoppage time, virtually assuring a win and earning advancement in the World Cup, it was one of the most thrilling moments I've had as a sports viewer. (My head might have exploded if I'd been watching the Univision telecast when it happened. Listening to that announcer's call now makes me as giddy as when the goal was scored..)

The build-up to what was looking like a disappointing result for the game and the tournament suddenly vanished in a burst of cheering. I was pumping my arm in celebration, feeling the rush of having one's team come through, and rejoicing with those on Twitter who, like me, were practically beside themselves in gleeful surprise.

For those who don't understand why people watch sports, this is what we're waiting for. Be it the casual viewer or person who has invested years in rooting on a team, the fleeting moment in which the unlikely occurs to push your squad to victory, and seemingly everyone roars their approval in shock and amazement, and all the disappointments are washed away, it's what we all want but so rarely glimpse. But sometimes we do.

More tidbits

Keeping busy...

-I've had my car for about three and a half months. Tonight I accidentally discovered a storage compartment in it. Observant, this one.

-Knitting in films alert: the main character in the Japanese film Air Doll is seen with knitting needles and (likely) a sock in progress, although she's never actually seen knitting. The film was shown at an event in which the audience doesn't know what it's seeing until the title is seen (or can otherwise identify it). I was thrilled since it's from one of my favorite directors, but I would not recommend this fairly strange movie as a place to start with his work.

-The times I hear my dad when I talk can make me cringe. I hear it especially when conversing with store clerks and waiters/waitresses, for some reason.

Tidbits

A little of this, a little of that...

-Certainly it isn't practical, but it's kind of neat to see that someone went to the trouble to embroider Wonder Bread.

-If you would like to make reading this blog more like watching the World Cup, click here and turn up the volume. You're welcome.

-So much for my initial self-evaluation that I was fine after February's car accident. A month of physical therapy has made a world of difference. I finally feel like I'm almost back to normal. Hopefully the last few sessions will get me there. No, I wasn't severely injured, but clearly I was banged up more than I thought.

Repeat

It's Father's Day, and I suppose that means I should write something eloquent about my dad. Honestly, though, I'm not really feeling it today, which has to do with my stifled creativity than anything with my father. Maybe if I'd talked to him I'd have something to write, but apparently he and my mom were gone for the better part of the day. (Don't worry, I called, even if no one was there to accept it.)

So I'm going to pull rank and link to last year's Father's Day piece. My dad's not necessarily one to talk for the sake of it, so why should I go against that on a day that recognizes him, right?

Liquid nostalgia

I would like to believe I am a savvy media consumer and not subject to marketing gimmicks, but of course I'm fooling myself if I think that. I don't remember the last time I bought Mello Yello, but when I saw the revamped late '70s packaging now adorning the soft drink's bottles, I couldn't resist buying one.

Granted, I've always been partial to Mountain Dew when it comes to highly caffeinated citrus-y carbonated beverages, but I remember drinking Mello Yello when I was a kid. I was kind of excited to see the old logo. Was the updated branding really what turned me away from it? Does the old logo, modified slightly for this relaunch, have that strong of a pull on me?

Probably the answer to both questions is yes, to a degree. I don't recall making a conscious choice to stop drinking Mello Yello, but from a design standpoint the modern logo does absolutely nothing for me and even irritates me. Maybe it did push me away. The new retro version of the logo is close to what I grew up with and generates some small waves of nostalgia. It sounds silly, but seeing it reminded me of my childhood and prompted a desire to drink it again, even if just once.

But it's just a soft drink, you exclaim. I know! I'm a fairly levelheaded person, yet something as relatively innocuous as changing the logo on a product to one from my youth was all it took to get me to buy it on impulse. I hadn't been craving Mello Yello and haven't been drinking it regularly. It may have been a decade since I last had one.

And that, dear readers, is why it's sort of terrifying to think how vulnerable we can be to advertisements and branding. Even if we guard ourselves against the attacks, something will sneak up on us when we least expect it and override our rationality.

Oh, and I might buy one again.

Body of lies

I'm not in the business of killing rumors, but I'd like to believe that slowly but surely I'm doing my part to cast skepticism on a particular one.

Last July I wrote a blog entry taking on the knitting world's burning question: does Russell Crowe knit? I concluded that in spite of news stories claiming that the actor knits, there's no evidence to support it. This "fact" about him gets repeated but has only the flimsiest of support. Maybe it is true, but the reporting on the matter is less than convincing.

I don't check site traffic nearly like I used to, but it never fails that the Russell Crowe knitting question gets hits on a regular, if not daily, basis. Out of the 1300+ entries on this blog, I'm fairly confident that it is the most read one. And now it's been referenced in a Los Angeles Times blog entry about the star's falsely rumored death.

The funny thing is that the writer of a story about an internet rumor initially passed along the usual line about Crowe being a knitter before a commenter chimed in that he isn't. My blog post on the topic is the top search result on Google for the question, which is likely why it's now linked in the LA Times piece. I expect this has expanded the exposure for my take on the matter, and maybe, just maybe, getting it in any form in a major media outlet will begin to erode what's always been a mostly unsupported claim.

Pancaked

What better way to get ready for an afternoon at the ball park than packing in some pancakes, right? The day began at The Original Pancake House in Montgomery. The menu offered many tempting options. I chose the Swedish pancakes with lingonberries because it's not something I'd normally come across. I found out that this huge style of pancake is extremely thin--almost like the scraping from the pan--and not quite what I had in mind. Folded up they basically tasted like crepes, although too much of my order was just a crisp piece of paper thin batter. It wasn't necessarily bad. It just wasn't what I was expecting, nor was it filling.

My dad couldn't eat all of his pancakes--he got the Hawaiin pancakes--so I polished off his leftovers, which were more like what I anticipated getting. I did not get the bacon pancakes, which sound both wonderful and devilish.

Check out the rest of their menu. The Dutch Baby sounds interesting, if absurdly fattening. I saw the apple pancake (singular). Have mercy. I don't think the two of us could have finished this mound of food. It did look good, though. It's probably for the best that this place is two hours away from me because I'd be tempted to go there more than I should.

The Reds cooperated, finally, and won the third and final game of the series. All in all it was a nice, quick trip (48 hours, more or less). I was glad my dad decided to make the long drive to meet me down there, and I needed the time out of town, even it if went by too fast.

In the Queen City

Today in Cincinnati with my dad:

-Sleeping in until after 10 a.m. (My dad slept until almost 11, which is basically unheard of, but then again, he'd probably just been out later than he has in years.)

-Lunch at a very good Mexican restaurant selected at random by what the GPS pulled up. Inexpensive, delicious, and filling.

-Watching a little World Cup action in the hotel and/or napping.

-Visiting the Reds Hall of Fame and Museum. It feels a little weird to see a special exhibit on the 1990 World Series championship team since I vividly remember watching that series.

-Capping the day with another dud of a game as the Reds lose 6-2. There's one more day and game here to pull out a win, fellas. Seeing you lose two games by a total of 18-2 is not what we had in mind.

Dry the rain

My dad and I met in Cincinnati so that we could go to the Reds games for three days. I had earned a free night at a hotel, which helps make this a cheap, short getaway that enables the opportunity to see my favorite team. My dad hasn't been to a game since 2006 because he and my mom have gradually drifted westward. Call this a good opportunity to let him catch some professional baseball in person.

I'm excited about going to the games, especially since the Reds are in first place. I've also been looking forward to going to a couple games and getting back to the place where I'm sleeping--the hotel in this instance--at a reasonable hour. That plan totally didn't work tonight.

Tuesday's game was not a good one. The Reds got stomped 12-0 by the Dodgers. The real blow, though, was a two and a half hour rain delay. Sure, I wanted to stay, but we were also kind of stuck. With the strong thunderstorm blowing through, it wasn't like hoofing it to the car while being buffeted by the precipitation and wind was a desirable option. In other words, we arrived back at the hotel at 1:30 a.m.

Yes, the point of going is to spend some time with my dad and enjoy being at the ball park. The soggy start and lousy game just seemed to postpone the fun.

Round on the ends and high in the middle

When a film or television show needs to convey that a character is from the heartland (and probably a little naive to boot), the go-to state is Ohio. I don't know if it's the shortness or sound of the name that makes it so popular or the nondescript geographical nature--it's neither north, south, east, nor west--that makes it receptive to being anything a writer wants. Whatever the case, the Buckeye State is convenient shorthand for suggesting a background of small towns, farms, and mom, baseball, and apple pie Americana.

For example, consider how Ohio was portrayed recently on So You Think You Can Dance. (I'm giving the show another shot since that screeching judge appears to be out of the picture.) One contestant hails from Wapakoneta, which is best known as the birthplace of Neil Armstrong. Based on the recurring gags about the strangeness and unfamiliarity of the Native American name, you'd have thought he said he was raised in the wilderness by wolves.

On last Thursday's show there were a few sequences of a British judge getting lost trying to find this teeny tiny burg and ending up in Marysville and Columbus, which aren't exactly next door to Wapakoneta. Never mind that the 2000 census pegged the city's population at approximately 9500 or that it's not that hard to find if you're on Route 33. Even the GPS failed him!

I've driven that way several times to my parents' home and recognized many spots featured in the TV segments. It may not be Los Angeles, but trust me, Wapakoneta isn't some microscopic point on the map that you make one wrong turn looking for and then wind up in the state capitol.


View Larger Map

Of course, playing up Ohio as all cornfields, general stores, and trains more effectively sells their narrative of an outsider trying to make it in the big city. Fox's musical dramedy Glee, which is set in nearby Lima, does a better job of portraying what the area is really like, although the TV version certainly looks much nicer.

As with all stereotypes, there are accurate elements in Ohio's popular conception as the embodiment of all things Midwestern. Farming is important to the state. There are plenty of small towns. (I'm from one of those of blink-and-you-missed-it villages.) The ordinariness that the state gets pegged with isn't necessarily off the mark.

But here's the catch: the most recent numbers place Ohio as the 7th most populated state in the nation. The greater metro areas of Ohio's three major cities (Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati) account for more than six million people. Dayton, Toledo, Akron, Canton, and Youngstown aren't exactly quaint little towns where everyone knows one another either. To act as though the state is nothing but agriculture and community-wide potluck dinners is to ignore the numbers and the reality.

Certainly there are other states that fare much worse in how they're perceived. Just think of what comes to mind with bordering states Kentucky and West Virginia. Taking that into consideration, Ohio's sentimentalized normality isn't such a bad way for people to imagine what it must be like here.

Testament to youth in verse

In spite of the disreputable name the band chose, The New Pornographers rank among my favorites. Their pop songs via indie rock give the experience of being pummeled by wave after wave of balsamic vinegar, to make a weird analogy. (What I'm getting at is there's acid cutting the sweetness and a sense of being battered by the muscular chords and strong rhythms.)

It's been two years since they were last in town, so I was excited to see them again in concert. As a bonus, they had an additional member tagging along who wasn't here in 2008. (This also meant nine members were on stage at one time, which appealed to my fascination with extremely large bands.) I looked forward to this show as a nice end to the day that officially finishes the academic year and a time to kick back and take a breath or two.

And how. Maybe it was being so close--and having some room due to snagging a rare chair at a table at the general admission club show--but I was completely absorbed in song after song of perfection or close to it. ("The Bleeding Heart Show", which closed the main set, is one of the greatest songs ever. Seriously.) Suffice it to say that this group hits all the right spots for me. For something that first appeared to be a side project, I'm kind of amazed that they've become pretty successful, at least on the level of indie bands.

Since I have the photos, here are the opening bands: The Dutchess and the Duke (above) and The Dodos (below).

Finally

Seaman's cap

Yarn: Cascade 220 (100% Peruvian highland wool; worsted weight)
Colorways: 7617 (gray tweed)
Needles: US 6 and 7 dpns
Stitches: 102

My brother's Christmas 2009 gift is finished and only five and a half months late. Well, better late than never.

I restarted this sucker probably three or four times because I kept twisting the cast on row. After I was well into the brim I realized that I'd horsed up the brim's stitch pattern. (It should be k1, p2. I did k2, p1.) Turns out that the difference looks fine and isn't an egregious mistake.

Like the last hat I knit, this one features my modifications for a better fit. (In short, knit more than the pattern suggests.) As I was well into the decreases I began to worry that I might not have enough yarn. While there's less yarn remaining than I'm used to having with these hats, I didn't cut it close.

What's next? It might be time to knit a hat for me that reverses the colors in the cap linked in the previous paragraph. Whatever I make next, it's a relief to have this project done.

Summer reading program

The summer reading program at the local library branch was one of the things I loved during the months when school was out. I read like a fiend in those days. Some of the motivation for summertime reading was getting the stamps on the sheet that tracked how many books I consumed. Beyond filling up every sport, the pay-off for reaching a certain number was some kind of prize. I vaguely recall that the reward was a free food item, maybe a personal pan pizza at Pizza Hut. Still, as a voracious reader, I would have read plenty without the incentive of a proverbial carrot.

Blame the movies, TV, and the internet if you are so inclined--I'm not--but I don't read at anything approaching the pace that I did when reading was one of my major activities. Good grief, I don't necessarily read a book a month. Or every other month.

Since I work in the world of academia, I still observe a summer break of sorts. I'm still working, but the demands and schedule are different, or at least they should be. Monday brings the start of this summer, so I vow to start taking time out for reading of printed and bound works, not just whatever is on my computer screen. I have enough unread books around my place that I certainly don't have a shortage of options.

I won't be getting a piece of paper stamped for each book I finish or a treat at the end of it. Instead I'll get the satisfaction from the act of reading, which was the entire point of the library program back then.

Heaven knows

I don't know why I ended up looking for Robert Plant's solo material on YouTube last night, but there I was spinning one after another of the former Led Zeppelin singer's album-oriented rock hits from the '80s and early '90s.



I guess this is what one does amid the last crush of work before a break.

Onward

Breakthrough!

After reassurance that the hat brim looked fine as is, I charged ahead on the hat and have almost knit enough to the point where I'm ready to begin the decreases. Hopefully finishing it will signify that I've got my act together again. It's been some time since that happened.

After that, who knows? Maybe I'll knit another hat that I had the idea for back in the winter but never got around to making. I also have yarn that I've intended to use to knit toe up socks, so that could happen.

But let's get this hat done first. After all, it was supposed to be a Christmas present.

A small update

With the end of the academic year approaching, I haven't had a lot of gas in the tank or time for knitting. The hat that seems like it will never be finished has been in a holding pattern because I'm indecisive whether to knit it the way the pattern calls for or modify it based on my mistake on the brim.

The crux of it is this: the brim is supposed to be k1, p2 rib. I misremembered the pattern as k2, p1. I'm determined not to rip out what I've done because it's taken me this long to get to this point. What would ordinarily be the wrong side will be the part of the brim that's showing. But must it?

If I purl everything for the main portion of the hat rather than do the required knitting, I can sort of correct for that mistake. I'm just not sure if it will look right.

So I'm going to jolt my indecision by getting knit night opinions as to how to make the best of the situation. (Sorry but frogging it isn't something I'm willing to do at this point, even if it is the only correct answer.)

Burger Time

Jazz up that regular ol' hamburger on the grill with sixteen different ways of making them. Granted, most of them aren't edible, but there is a knitted one.

Un-bat-lievable

So I'm driving down the road this morning when what do I spot in my rear view mirror but the Batmobile. WHAT?!

I slowed down in the hope that it would pass on my left and I'd get a better look at it, but unfortunately my lane had fewer cars, which allowed me to drive forward and put it out of sight. I was glad, though, to get stopped at the next light and have enough of a gap to be able to point and fortuitously shoot a picture with my iPhone while the Batmobile passed en route to the interstate.

Doing some research turned up more information and photos by the local who made his own roadworthy version. There's even a video demonstration of the retractable machine gun replicas on the car, which is modeled on the one seen in Tim Burton's 1989 Batman.

I must say that this strange sight made my day.

Over it

I survived three more high school commencements in a single day, although I was definitely the worse for wear halfway through.



How did I stay awake and avoid getting slaphappy? I listened to Dinosaur Jr. and let the loud music keep me going.

Duh duh duh duh

The calendar may not say that it's summer, but as the school year comes to a close, it might as well be. Am I ever ready for it. One of the obstacles in my path are the three high school commencements that I have to work tomorrow. It's one of my least favorite days of the year, but getting through it is a sign that the summer (and hopefully a reduced pace) is almost here.

So, while I try to get myself in mental shape for tomorrow's endurance test, I present to you a single from a band whose sound practically denotes summer.



I've been listening to The New Pornographers' Together a lot of late, and it seems like the perfect album for cranking up in the car during the warmest months of the year. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

More yarn bombing

Publicly installed knitting stories keep coming, this time nicely documented with a slide show of a Fayetteville, Arkansas yarn bombing. To my knowledge I don't know any of the instigators, but I expect a full report on the ground from my friend there.

(Yeah, that's all I have today.)

Brand new bag

I may be in the market for a new messenger bag. Any recommendations for where to get one or have one made? I figure you all might know better than I do.

I had one made for me around the time I took up knitting. It's still functional, but with some fraying around where the strap connects to the bag, I'm beginning to wonder if its days are numbered. I should still get good use out of it for some time, assuming I don't carry too much weight in it. (Doing that a few years ago led to the handle ripping.)

Fireball

The Reds' AAA affiliate was in town, and their big off-season signing, a fireball-throwing Cuban whose fastball tops out at 100 mph, was on the mound. Naturally, I had to go.

I probably ended up talking with the friend who went along more than closely watching the play on the field, but it was a nice night to be outside at a ballgame. I did see the lanky lefty light up the radar gun with triple digits and uncork a couple wild heaters, so I got what I came for.

And there was a seal mascot too.