So, I’m at the critical point of the evening where I need to make a dinner decision immediately, or else I’ll end up wandering through the “Now Playing” list on Tivo, grazing on potato chips and other sundries, or just knitting the body of my sock. Just typing that makes me want to hop into the car and head over to my long-lost knitting night. They serve food there and it would be nice to catch up the gang.

See, blogging doesn’t ruin lives. It’s improving mine tonight. That means I won’t go into details about what I was doing 24 hours ago and why I’m really sunburned. A long day of synchronized swimming (two performances and two practices) with a midday break for fast-food and friends over to watch Amelie. Besides the dermatological damage, my passion for the pool was rekindled.

A month goes by and it feels like a year. April 10th marked another year for me—the end of my 33rd. The occasion was celebrated a day early with a starch-fest of a breakfast: homemade biscuits and veggie sausage gravy, a tomato tart and coffee cake from the neighbor, doughnuts and some good ol’ breakfast burritos.

And, yes, there’s been knitting, just no photographing of its progress. Currently, I’m on my second pair of socks, something small for BART and the two days a week I bike to work (this week, at least). In the beginning of April, I almost finished what I’m calling the week-long sweater. After the seven days, I was not quite through the second sleeve and it’s been resting since then. I’m kicking myself for wasting a month’s-worth of free photo storage of flickr. I could have shown you the socks, more pictures of Janie and my new button-making machine.

Lisa came over today to bust out some 1″ badges for her upcoming art show. We powered through 100+ pins in different designs and miniatures of her drawings. I gave her the three *sparklenation* buttons I’ve made celebrating the tiny canine who’s dominating my life of late.

And how could a visit from such a star not be an inspirational kick in the pants to get back in here to type? Pardon my long silence. Feel free to print this out and wear your own *sparklenation* button to help you my gaps in writing.

Yesterday, while a-wandering back to my car, with the boyfriend and his bike in tow, I swear I recognized the slight frame and demure face of one of my heroes. He was sitting outside Ti Couz (image of tables on sidewalk).

I elbowed Mr. Photo who was ignoring lowly humans bustling by and searching buildings for architectual detail he wanted shoot. By the time we got to the ever-hip corner of 16th & Valencia (where else could you find lanky hipsters, a Latina drag bar, used bookstores and lanky heroin addicts—sometimes hipster, sometimes not), we turned around and saw the back of the head of my prey. Across the table from him (and some otherwise unrecognizable friends) was a much wildly-coiffed and tall man. Do all the cool kids know each other in NYC? Were they post-SXSW nerd/intellectual/pop-culture/film pals?

Now, I’m not 100% sure that either man was whom his likeness proclaimed, but I’d like to pretend they both were. I like the idea that these different people not only knew one another, but perhaps are dating (totally projecting here). The more imposing, wild-looking one known for well-thought prose and the smaller, mild-looking one famous for his flamboyent stage and film creation—ironic, no?

I hope John Cameron Mitchell and Malcolm Gladwell enjoyed their crepes.

…and I’m not just talking about my dog. The ever-inspirational Lisa came over for Chris’ delicious crab enchilladas and a little Tivo’d Project Runway. Rest assured, I’m now caught up.

What she failed to mention in her post/photographic ode to Ms. Janie Sparkles, is the tasty hot chocolate that was our dessert. Luckily, she did snap a photo of it on her flickr.com photostream.

A social night, great food, dog love and I’m heading to bed before midnight? It’s been a perfect evening.

update: photo added 03.05.06

we got her!

at 10:50 this morning, her foster mom left me the happy news on my voicemail. Janie is our new little girl. she comes to us via French Bulldog Rescue Network. suppport them if you can!

be forewarned. (but feel free to tell me I’m writing about a pet too much.)

my home-buying excuse for not knitting is wearing thin. I’m all moved in, the house is functional and the yarn’s been stashed. it was high time that I start up again. and, yes, I was even dreaming about it.

I was antsy to buy a new book for inspiration (Teva Durham or Debbie New?), but I forced myself to consult one I already owned. I hadn’t spent much time with it, so I decided to crack open Anna Zilboorg’s Knitting for Anarachists.

I wasn’t ready to start swatching out new designs, so I decided start sleeve2 of my aran sweater. there’s so much to be learned from the classics. besides, inspiration always comes quickly when bored by tedium.

Sunday night: I started the ribbing of the cuff. it felt wonderful to be using my hands again. but then bedtime called.

Monday afternoon: after the patriotic festivities (shrimp and basil pasta, corn on the cob and banana cream pudding), out came the knitting bag during our conversation. as you can see, quite a bit more got done.

I’m travelling in two weeks, and I’m not sure what I want to bring with me. Finish this sweater or start something new? once that trip (swim competition) is over, I’ll return to my favorite knitting night at 3DB.

I missed you, sweet wool.