green.girl knitting: commentary
24 february 2007 'charity' knitting
charity in so far as it is not for me, anyhow. a coworker knit this baby sweater's body but could not get the sleeves to do what she wanted. as there was no pattern, i just did some math and then matched the stripe sequence she'd used for the body. easy enough, and it will make her very happy. and she gave me some oddballs of yarn she had stashed here and there. free yarn!
in other knitting news, meh. still haven't finished backing the baby blanket. finnished sophie's maisy scarf but still need to work in the ends and decide if i am going to outline in black. started a shawl like thing for sophie's teacher.
09 february 2007 finally
one headband, complete. and on my head.
it is always nice to find a use for the odd buttons that seem to accumulate over the years. i've always loved this one; it reminds me of a sunflower.
oh, and i've finished the crocheted border on the baby blanket. on to the backing!
06 february 2007 almost
it is making me crazy that i don't have anything finished in 2007. so i started a calorimetry, from knitty. i will have something in that sidebar before the weekend if it is the last thing i do. so there.
the state of the blanket. all the log cabin bits are done, so i need to find a crochet hook to put the border on. i bought some light blue fleece with which to back it, so that is the next step. the new nephew was born this week; i'd best get a move on before his parents think i am ignoring them.
02 february 2007 silent poetry reading
in honor of st brigid. while i can take or leave the poems of jane kenyon, i am very fond of her husband's work. donald hall speaks to a quiet space inside of me - not flashy, just calm and slippery, finding all the little spaces inside me that need filling. and just because, like last year, an old one of my poems; this one still makes me both blush and laugh and unlike a lot of my work that appears to be autobiographical but really isn't, this one is absolutely true.
Gold by Donald Hall
Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.
We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.
why tall chicks with big tits should not
go shopping for video cameras in tank tops by katrina grace craig
can i help you?
slick salesman eyes never meet mine
slide from lcd to tv to big screen
display of big turquoise breasts. everywhere.
in black and white in pixelated color from
the left from the right from straight on
full speed ahead
my air conditioned nipples crowd larger than life
size catching the eyes of harried husbands
frat boys piqued by no interest 'til december
the girl with a nose ring manning the counter.
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