The domino effect

It's the domino effect that's going to kill me. My every attempt at efficiency, at getting stuff done, is thwarted by the domino effect.

I go to write out an invoice, and it takes me twenty minutes to find the checkbook. (On the piano, where I wrote out the check for the last piano lesson.) I write out the check, find an envelope, and can't find the stapler. I finally find the stapler (on Elvis's desk) and it has no staples. I know I've seen a little box of staples somewhere because one of the kids spilled it recently and I stepped on a staple, but now it's nowhere to be found. I run around the house looking for it, yelling the word for staple in French because it's galling (gaul-ing?) that I can remember the word for staple in French (it's "agrafe") but cannot remember where the damn box of staples is. And so it goes. A five-minute task takes an hour.

I have given up on the staples and stolen a paper clip from somewhere, and now I'm going to wind some yarn. I've got more Cashsock, that luscious blend of cashmere, merino and nylon, and I'm doing a big update tomorrow on BBF.





I've done a bunch of colorways in batches of two skeins, just in case you decide you want to treat yourself to a shawl's worth...I'm going to bring back free shipping through Christmas, too, so use the code "STAPLE" for free shipping on orders over $25.

P.S. Has anyone seen the stamps?

Another memorial

Imagine that you were a woman in Virginia in the 1950s and you were lucky enough to find the guy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. And imagine he felt the same way, so you got married. And then a couple of weeks later, while you were home asleep, the local sheriff and some deputies pounded on your door and arrested both of you because you happened to be African-American and your husband happened to be white.

That's what happened to Mildred Loving in 1958. She and her then-fiance had gone to Washington, D.C. to get married, since Virginia law didn't permit it. But Virginia had what was called a Racial Integrity Act which prohibited marriages between members of different races and refused to recognize otherwise valid marriages between interracial couples even if they were performed in another state. The Lovings got suspended jail sentences and left Virginia; their plea agreements required them to leave the commonwealth of Virginia and not return for twenty-five years. Later on, the Lovings came to miss their home state and decided to return. Inspired by the hope of the civil rights movement, they decided to fight Virginia's statute. There were a number of legal issues (what you'd call "technicalities") and when their lawyers tried to explain some of the legal theories to the Lovings, Mr. Loving said, "[T]ell the court I love my wife, and it is just unfair that I can’t live with her in Virginia.”

The Lovings prevailed; in 1967, the Supreme Court struck down the so-called "miscegenation" laws that prohibited interracial marriages. What was at stake wasn't just recognition by the government; it was also issues like inheritance, legitimacy, and death benefits. Laws like the Virginia one made interracial marriages void, meaning it was as if they never took place, and thus prevented children from inheriting by considering them illegitimate, and so on.

Mrs. Loving died this week. She was one of those ordinary Americans who rises to a challenge and perhaps unexpectedly finds that she's changed our country. A year ago, Mrs. Loving issued a statement on the 40th anniversary of the Loving v. Virginia decision urging states to allow gays and lesbians to marry.

In a brutal touch of irony, I read in the paper today that the Pennsylvania Senate may vote this week on an amendment to the state constitution outlawing gay marriage and civil unions. It's hard for me to understand why Mr. Loving's poignant question doesn't apply to gays and lesbians as well: if you love your spouse, isn't unfair for the state to stop you from living together as a married couple?

Rest in peace, Mrs. Loving. I hope your legacy lives on.

My two cents

I am no Ted Kennedy (I always report traffic accidents promptly) or New York Times (I will provide the news that isn’t fit to print), but for what it's worth, I've decided to talk about the U.S. presidential race. You know that I'm interested in politics; you also know that I am (ahem) highly opinionated. I like to think that my opinions tend to have a basis in logic and fact; I also know that my opinions also take into account my, for lack of a better phrase, gut instinct. If you don't care about US presidential politics, or you don't particularly care what I think about US presidential politics, you can just skip over this one; I won't be offended.

I had been supporting John Edwards all last year. Yesterday, however, Edwards withdrew from the race. Since the first democratic primary of this election season, when Edwards’ numbers were on the low side, I've been watching Obama and Clinton carefully, figuring that I might have to transfer my allegiance to one of them should Edwards drop out of the race. After the events of the past week or so, the time is here.

I endorse Barack Obama for President.

I look around at this country. I hear talk of blue states and red states, of voting blocs -- the black vote, the hispanic vote, the christian right, the senior citizens' vote -- and I see a country being destroyed by its divisions. I look at Washington and I see fear-mongerers trying to scare us into relinquishing our constitution and our values so that they might obtain more money and more power over us. I look at the staggering economy and I see a nation drowning in debt to pay for a war that we didn't need to fight, our president dangling puny income tax refunds in front of us while borrowing money from China to pay for tax breaks for corporations and the richest of the rich. I see one of the wealthiest countries in the world, where millions of people don’t have health insurance. I see a Democratic-led Congress, but by the slimmest of majorities, too afraid they'll lose power to take a stand on many of the important issues that need to be addressed.

And I look at the two front-runners in the Democratic primaries. I see two intelligent candidates, both relatively new legislators, with positions on most issues that aren't tremendously different. Either is capable and smart enough to do the job; neither has a tremendous amount of experience to draw on. Both candidates have the advantage of being a potential "first": first woman or African-American President; both have the corresponding drawback of possibly tapping into irrational prejudice. How to decide between the two?

I can point to some specific differences: I like that Obama has opposed the war in Iraq from the beginning, and I don't like that Clinton has yet to categorically state that her vote in favor of invading Iraq was a mistake. I like that Obama has refused to take money from lobbyists and I don't like that Clinton still does. I like that Obama or his surrogates have never played the gender card, and I don't like that Mr. and Mrs. Clinton have, directly and indirectly, used race to try to gain political advantage in these primaries. I don't like political dynasties -- the Bush double-whammy is proof positive of why not -- and I don't like the intimation that Hillary Clinton somehow deserves payback because her husband and his political enemies put her through the wringer or because it’s “her turn.”

But really, the most important reason that I've come to support Barack Obama is not any of the above. My head tells me there isn't that much of a difference between the positions of the candidates; but my heart tells me there is a big difference. I listen to Obama describe the problems that our country faces:

We are up against the belief that it's ok for lobbyists to dominate our government - that they are just part of the system in Washington. But we know that the undue influence of lobbyists is part of the problem, and this election is our chance to say that we're not going to let them stand in our way anymore.

We are up against the conventional thinking that says your ability to lead as President comes from longevity in Washington or proximity to the White House. But we know that real leadership is about candor, and judgment, and the ability to rally Americans from all walks of life around a common purpose - a higher purpose.

We are up against decades of bitter partisanship that cause politicians to demonize their opponents instead of coming together to make college affordable or energy cleaner; it's the kind of partisanship where you're not even allowed to say that a Republican had an idea - even if it's one you never agreed with. That kind of politics is bad for our party, it's bad for our country, and this is our chance to end it once and for all.

We are up against the idea that it's acceptable to say anything and do anything to win an election. We know that this is exactly what's wrong with our politics; this is why people don't believe what their leaders say anymore; this is why they tune out. And this election is our chance to give the American people a reason to believe again.

It's corny and hokey and earnest, but I want a reason to believe again.

I want a candidate who is capable of bringing us past the divisions that are fracturing our society – and Obama has consistently delivered that kind of message during the campaign.

I want a candidate who isn’t so desperate to win that he’ll say anything or do anything to get there. Obama has refused to let the Clintons and their race-baiting change his message or his tactics, even when the Clintons have tried to marginalize him as “the black candidate.”

I want a candidate who can get people – people of all ages, backgrounds, walks of life – excited about leadership and inspire them to make positive societal change. I see that in Obama’s supporters.

I want a candidate who has the real-world ability to work with politicians from all parties to try to get something done, without important legislation getting stalled by sound bites or pork or extremists. I don’t think Hillary Clinton will be able to do that effectively.

I want a candidate whose nomination won’t serve as a rallying call for the crazy conservatives (and Hillary’s certainly will, calling into question her ability to actually get elected) and I want a First Spouse (brace yourself; this one’s harsh) who isn’t a convicted perjurer who can't keep his pants zipped.

I want a candidate who believes this:

make no mistake: the choice in this election is not between regions or religions or genders. It's not about rich versus poor; young versus old; and it is not about black versus white. It's about the past versus the future.

It's about whether we're going to seize this moment to write the next great American story. So someday we can tell our children that this was the time when we healed our nation. This was the time when we repaired our world. And this was the time when we renewed the America that has led generations of weary travelers from all over the world to find opportunity, and liberty, and hope on our doorstep.

If you are so inclined, donate here.

I really, really hate that.

Some chick posted a comment to yesterday's post that had nothing to do with my blog, or my bunny (more's the pity), but was just a solicitation for some knitting calendar that she is apparently trying to publicize. Now according to her message, the calendar that she mentions doesn't pay you anything for the privilege of using your design, except to give you a copy of the calendar. Although if my memory serves me, the company that publishes said calendar does indeed make profits from the sale of said calendar. I think that's cheesy. (People have complained about various on-line websites for not paying their contributors, but I give credit to start-up businesses like Knitty.com that began paying honorariums to their contributors once the websites began taking in ad revenue.)

I have a button on my sidebar that says "Contact me" and links to my email address, so why the heck didn't she actually email me so that I'd have the option of deciding whether I wanted to post her solicitation, instead of hijacking my blog comments? I mean, you'd think someone who bills herself as a provider of web design services would know that this sort of thing makes curmudgeonly knitbloggers cranky. Wouldn't you?

So anyway, since Susan and I are on such close terms that she feels comfortable advertising her projects in my blog comments, I popped over to Susan's blog and posted an ad for my Etsy site in her comments.

Which, by the way, reminds me that there are still a few hanks of yarn left over there, including a kick-ass batch of rose-colored 100% silk...

Coming next post: a review of Martin Storey's new knitting book for men...

Just stop it. I mean it.

Haven't we had enough of O.J.? I know I have.


I mean, if the poor man interrupted his ceaseless ten-year search for the real killers of his ex-wife and her friend in order to repossess some stolen items (no doubt so that he could sell them and give the proceeds to the Goldman and Brown families to satisfy their multimillion-dollar civil judgment against him, which he thus far has not given a cent toward despite his tireless attempts to find gainful employment so that he can pay them), then ought we not let the Nevada justice system handle the controversy? Without having his face plastered all over the media?



Would it kill the media (pun intended) to just ignore the guy?



Knitting progress



Geez, in just one day I got something like 15 messages on Ravelry! Cool.


There has been some knitting progress here. After seeing N. gleefully wearing an old pair of Opal Tiger socks I made for James

I cast on another pair for him in one of the Kaffe Fassett colors of Regia. This one is called Carribean (number 4261) and it's full of turquoise/cobalt blues, bright greens, with some rust and brown to provide contrast.




Over the weekend, I finished knitting the pieces of the little skirt for G., and I bought buttons so today I'm blocking it. I used a new yarn from Reynolds called Cottontail, and really liked it a lot. It's a blend of cotton and acrylic, but feels very cotton-y and knits easily. A little strand-y, like all cottons, no big deal though. And at five or six bucks a ball, it's nicely priced. I hope to have a photo of the finished skirt soon.

I also have been making slow but fairly steady progress on a cardigan for me. I'm using Frog Tree Pima Silk from my stash, and it's a beautifully soft, drapey yarn. I'm nearly halfway up the back. It's very plain, almost all stockinette, but that's okay. I'm in the mood for some low-key knitting after the summer full of excitement.


Black Bunny update

I'm planning a Black Bunny update on Friday. I've got this batch of wool/nylon (the one with the tighter twist):




as well as some superwash merino, a few batches of Finn wool from Canada, and some more of the alpaca blend sock yarn (also from Canada). Three batches of roving, too. In the meantime, I'm working on some more pure silk as well as some laceweight. I'm also playing with a new yarn, and I'll let you know if it works out.

The death of shame, or a meditation upon Paris Hilton, Alberto Gonzalez and various others

When I was little, my grandmother used to respond to anything that was off-color on the teevee (e.g., a boob joke on Hee-Haw) by saying "They have no shame." I didn't really get what she meant until I was much older. Today I mourn the death of shame.

When I use the word "shame," I am not talking about feeling guilty or embarrassed about things beyond one's control (such as appearance, or background, or having experienced abuse, say). I am instead referring to "a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming or impropriety." [Merriam-Webster's definition] Shame requires first, an awareness that one has done something wrong or improper; then an appreciation that the shameful act was within the person's control; and that the person experiencing shame feels sorrow over that, knows s/he can or should do better, and (one hopes) resolves not to repeat the same mistake in the future.

Where has all the shame gone?

This notion is fresh in my mind because this morning, I read that Paris Hilton's father is planning a huge party to celebrate her release from jail. Where I come from, having your kid go to jail -- no matter what the charge -- is not something to brag about, and certainly is not a reason to throw a party (even if the kid is going to be paroled). Going to jail was regarded as a sign to parents that something went wrong, and maybe that something had to do with the way the kid was raised. Maybe; everyone has free will and so it could just be the kid screwed up notwithstanding a respectable upbringing, but I think the crucial point is that the parents at least considered the possibility that they had missed something or screwed up. They didn't laugh it off or plan an expensive party. Instead, they were ashamed.

I don't want to sound like the crusty old man who blathers on about walking to school ten miles each way in the snow -- without shoes. ("And we liked it that way!") Nor do I want to sound like the hypocritical right-wing zealots that I loathe. But lately it seems to me that no one has any shame any more, and that this isn't a good development for our society. Consider:

• Man is diagnosed with virulent TB, and is cautioned against traveling, but ignores public health concerns and flies all over the world, subjecting hundreds (including his closest friends and family) to potential infection with a drug-resistant strain of TB. No shame.
• Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez nearly faces a Senate no-confidence vote after a humiliating performance testifying before Congress in which he basically demonstrates that he is either lying through his teeth or so inept and forgetful he can't remember an important decision from a year ago. He is unashamed, nay, indignant.
• Teen and young adult girls flash their breasts for TV cameras in exchange for a T-shirt, knowing that DVDs of their nekkid titties will be sold and whacked off to by men all over the country. Not merely a lack of shame, but a lack of self-respect.
• Man serves wife with divorce papers when she lies in hospital fighting cancer. He calls up second wife on the phone and tells her he wants a divorce because he is having an affair with an aide 23 years his junior. Shame? Nope; he is running for president on the "family values" platform.
  

I'm not advocating widespread guilt, people beating themselves up endlessly over mistakes. But it would be nice if, once in a while, people would look at what they've done in the past and instead of dismissing it or justifying it, just admitted that it was wrong or stupid, and felt some shame.

Because, as Pascal once said, "the only shame is to have none."

A quick rant

So I go to the grocery store this week. I'll freely confess that I've been hating on our local grocery store for some time now. It used to be owned by a local family and it was superlative, as far as supermarkets go: spotless, great produce and meats, all kinds of unusual products from small makers, friendly staff. Then the family sold it to a huge national supermarket chain, and the chain promptly ruined it. It's filthy (instead of asking me if I need help carrying a loaf of bread to the car, could they mop the frickin' floor?!), they discontinued most of the interesting stuff to substitute Safeway generic crap instead, they have the place crowded with junk like plastic lawn chairs and ugly stuffed animals, and -- more to the point of this rant -- they let go of most of the friendly staff and hired really bizarre people.

I'm in line, and the bagboy (okay, he's really a bagman -- at least fifty years old if he's a day) starts talking about the Radnor Trail. The Radnor Trail is a brilliant and wonderful thing: the township purchased the land and rights-of-way to an old, unused railroad track, removed the rails, paved and landscaped it, and turned it into a recreational trail for bikers and walkers. So in the interest of making chitchat, I say something about how much I love the Radnor Trail.

Big mistake.

The bagboy starts freaking out, saying things like "Are you crazy?! How could anyone say the trail is great?" I laughed nervously, and he said "What are you laughing at? It's not funny! Oh, sure, part of it is okay but have you ever seen the upper part? It's all fences, like a cattle chute! It's worse than Auschwitz!"

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that likening a recreational bike trail to a Nazi concentration camp is an inapt (and inept) comparison.

Plus he put all my groceries in plastic instead of paper, and the orange juice bottle smooshed my bread.