It's important to be warm

Last time at The House of Pink: We torn stuff down in November then more stuff in January and in today’s episode we build stuff back up.

Ian spent Saturday preparing, leveling, fussing and generally being Ian about the front room. Sunday, we went to brunch, as usual. Dave brought me yummy carroty muffins as he has obviously learned my deep affection for those who cook for me. Several people had expressed interest in seeing how drywall is done, so we thought we’d be hosting a Barnraising. In the end, we found that for the size space we were dealing with, three is the magic number. Just as well.

Beginning with the wall and framing:

Dave and I were measuring fools, prepping up board as fast as Ian (the tallest of us) could screw the pieces into the framing.

When we finished the ceiling, Betsy came by to see the progress and deliver Carl’s homemade ginger donuts. More baked goods! Hurrah! The donuts nearly caused a happy carb-coma, but we recovered. Walls don’t build themselves you know.

Ta Da!:

It’s a wall! And a ceiling! And it hasn’t fallen down yet!

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courtesy: Atom Smasher
I wish they had a Sad Mac one. Though, I do feel rather Win98 tonight. It’s bad, I tell you.

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That sucked.

Thus ends my short, brief, and bitter love affair with football.

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A busy week and I’m left with with several lost ideas, half written, half forgotten. I keep saying working six days a week is too much, yet it continues.

Monday was a MoveOnPgh meeting, which was happily fruitful. I can’t bear all these intellectual lefties who want to discuss, at infinite length, the definition of “progressive” and “what is a democrat” and yadda yadda puke all over my shoes. Let’s get something done here. Thankfully, my yap-detector is well sensitized to avoid these timewasters. The particular sub-group I’m part of is very much an action-oriented bunch. Let’s take over, then have the luxury to define what a liberal is by our actions from within the power structure. <shuffles off soapbox>

I also enjoy my sub-group because it includes my beloved fairy god-brother, a fellow Kucinichizen, Zig, and two bright men I don’t know, yet feel a quick ease with already.

In discussing factors of my own political activity, I lamented to Dave about how people in this city know me via the political actions of my parents. It makes it hard to have autonomy in this arena when people recognize my name and tell me how they remember when I had my diapers changed in city council chambers. He quipped back that Pericles probably didn’t have that problem. I couldn’t have put it more succinctly, nor as astute.

___

I’ve been feeling adoration for the bike punks of this fair city all winter, but this week topped it. I drove to the gallery slowly through the early part of the blizzard behind a trio of bikers outfitted in wonderfully ill-matched outerwear and strong, grimy messenger bags. I wanted to kiss them. Two of them were tooling around the unplowed streets with road tires, not fat tires, on their bikes. They are so much cooler than I’ll ever be, with my complaining knees driving alone in my toasty car.

Speaking of el coche, she had her 12K warranty checkup on Friday morning. I had to drive to the ‘burbs as our in-city dealership has shut down. I missed a turn, got lost, so arrived grouchy and late to the appointment. I entered the little waiting room, choosing the seat next to the TV so I wouldn’t have to both watch AND listen to the icky daytime talk TV. Immediately I bust out my knitting and the room warms up. I didn’t realize this crafty stuff was such a great ice-breaker! The older folks in the room were charmed and one began discussing her own projects. She and I both knit for relaxation. We bonded publicly across the room. A black woman, flustered from her car woes and the lack of attention by the service guys, snerked how knitting might just be the best way to deal with the (implied bastards) of the dealership. A young white woman in the room, when she was done with her mobile phone call, tuned into our knit-chat and decided then and there to take up the craft. So when do I get my toaster oven for this latest convert?

___

Ian is cooking for tonight’s game, which we will watch with football old-timers. I already hear the TV pre-game going downstairs. Yes, we have fallen into the football glee that surrounds us. Strange but true. I’m honestly excited about today’s game and hope Kelly and Mariss can explain some of the finer points. Ian turned on last Saturday’s game of his own accord and proceeded to teach himself the rules. He explained what he’d learned to me as we both watched the Sunday game. It’s been super fun to be part of this big amorphous fandom and get a bit of what all the fuss is about. At my birthday gathering, listening to high school friends (read: card-carrying art fags) talk about the Steelers excitement surely lead to this, and I can’t say I regret it.

This week in links:
Book is pretty. I could do without the commentary, prob’ly, though it is always voyeuristic to see what people think of what they are up to.

Fair and Balanced Faux News got pantsed, bringing us the lone highlight of Coronation Week.

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I can knit in circles now. I’m terrifically pleased with myself. I messed up some of the top stitches by figuring out how to avoid double pointed needles I don’t happen to have, but I hid it with a tassel. Then I did happy dances all around the house.

Combining two favorites things, I present a self-portrait with camera, now with bonus HAT:

Now if we can just change out the lighting in the hall so that the bad light doesn’t throw off my pictures so horribly. This supercheeseball shot has the best light.

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This morning I was dreaming about a journey. Some people I know in real life were there, new to my dreamscape. Bits of scenes is all I can pull back up to the surface. It’s as if the VHS tape in my head is twisted in several spots, but can play properly for a few moments at a time.

Several of us were on one of my great dream planes which have open air cockpits and you can see all around as you can sit right in the nose. Dream planes don’t bother with runways either, they use proper streets that don’t happen to have cars on them. The wheels run down the center yellow lines, which somehow I can watch while I’m in the plane. It was a warm night as the plane was attempting a takeoff. The dense trees blown by the wind force of the plane were especially lovely to watch. The plane tipped up to the stars in the dark sky and we passengers cheered the attempt. We rose, but it wasn’t right, so came back down. While we were disappointed, no one was upset. And the aborted journey was more like a long, gentle evening roller coaster ride, so why complain?

< garbled tape, later that night >

I’m in a rather elegant hotel suite with Betsy. The room is in tones of dark reds, which isn’t nearly as glum and gothic as it sounds. She has her two daughters with her, except they are both infants and, while healthy and happy, are especially tiny. I have two kittens, in their typically tiny size before the eyes open. The children and the cats are just about the same scale. She and I putz around the room, attending to our small ones, chatting.

< garbled tape: same room, time passes the same evening >

The kittens are now not the same size, one looks to be about five weeks while the other is still about two weeks. I pick them up to admire the growth spurt, bellies flat on my palms, paws overhanging. The larger one’s fur pattern is growing into grey and honey striping. Betsy’s tiny children are also playing around the room, still small, but much more like older toddlers than infants. We are packing up to take another plane. The children are so small, they can be put in an appropriate bag and carried off with us. No rush or hassle.

< muddle as I wake up >

It was an entirely pleasant dream. I wish I hadn’t lost the plot.

Filed by joy at 9:32 am under dreams
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OMG! Props to my Graphic Alliance buddy Noah for this one:

http://www.microrevolt.org/
Don’t miss the needlepoint Communist Heroes of South America.

I just need to decide what image I want to try to knit…

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I finally finished the first scarf I started (shoutout to Melissa!). Complete with fringe and long enough for the Kiwi.

It’s actually the third I’ve done now, with two crazy yarns with size 17 needles made first, but they don’t photograph so well (must get a macro lens).

Now I’m working on a snug little yellow yarn for a ribbed scarf. k2p2 is a pretty advanced pattern for me. I’m all proud. Although, I may have to start the hat since my Denise needles arrived and I must try them…

Ian was not asked to pose. He was simply wearing his new scarf.

Filed by joy at 11:20 pm under life
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I’m trying to get liquid nails out of my shirt with nail polish remover when I hear from downstairs, “Ok, we’ll do it your way.” followed by the growl of the hammer drill.

We’ve spent all day having exchanges of opinion with laser levels, rope levels, 100 year old walls that aren’t anything similar to level in any plane you test, and screws which lied about holding directly into brick. Work is slow, but it’s getting there.

The framing is left from the paneling that was torn down. It’s useful as we’ll be adding electricity to this wall and to the ceiling we’re framing in over the hallway. There is no depth to set wiring into as this is the shared wall and in 1890, they built up the brick between the houses, slapped on some heavy duty plaster, finished it and were done. Modern code prefers wiring to be tidily under some drywall given these conditions.

For the record, the framing is not on top of tile. It’s some old nasty vinyl sheet impersonating tile. The brick is from the entry wall that was torn out long before our arrival.

In related improvements, I happily announce I now have ducting to my office! Heat and air. Oh this modern life.

Filed by joy at 5:45 pm under life
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