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Sorry to keep you hanging
Nov. 4th, 2004 10:46 pmIt has come to my attention that someone may actually be reading this.
The lace weekend was a wonderful vacation, extremely relaxing, which was all too soon supplanted by the stresses of work. My first attempt to finish the motif I had been working on when the workshop ended led to inferior lace (I was hungry, waiting for my husband to come home, and people in the apartment building kept setting off their fire alarms, making me run up and down the stairs and generally behave like a nervous wreck). Some folks at the Otakon strategic planning meeting got to see pictures of the unacceptably weak lace I worked that afternoon. I may put pictures up here for general edification, though I'm afraid they're huge files and I haven't looked into shrinking them yet.
The following week I un-laced all but the first stitches of the previous session and reworked about as much as I kept, and I think it did better, but now I'm trying not to work on it when I'm hungry and that pretty much leaves out my time after work. I wish I could go to my teacher's next class in a couple weekends! But that weekend is Girls' Night Out, my third year gathering with friends while our husbands, SOs, and the single guys in the group hang out and do their own thing somewhere else. I would not miss that even for a chance to perfect an art.
The internet phone is a lot of fun and now, when it crashes, I can restore it from a backup card instead of taking it home to sync. But it is an order of magnitude slower than reading email in a plain old text terminal window. I am a full month behind in reading my constructed languages mailing list (I am so spoiled)...
The cat, who is doing well, is also spoiled. While we thought the weekend at the hotel in Ithaca would teach her humility, it instead seems to have taught her the most brazen courage, as she now routinely slips out the door into the hall when my husband is leaving in the morning. I guess after travel and strange hotel rooms, nothing is too frightening any more.
I must go to bed. I'm on call this week, while bizarrely being simultaneously out sick. The two are not entirely unrelated - I'm an old thirty-something and being woken up by a cellphone does not do good things to my immune system, although how I really trashed it was by staying up late Monday night reading Tim Powers. What is the deal with not being able to stay up past 12 anymore? I fight it compulsively, but it fights back harder.
Or maybe I'm just hiding from the election results... I haven't been out of the house since Tuesday.
The lace weekend was a wonderful vacation, extremely relaxing, which was all too soon supplanted by the stresses of work. My first attempt to finish the motif I had been working on when the workshop ended led to inferior lace (I was hungry, waiting for my husband to come home, and people in the apartment building kept setting off their fire alarms, making me run up and down the stairs and generally behave like a nervous wreck). Some folks at the Otakon strategic planning meeting got to see pictures of the unacceptably weak lace I worked that afternoon. I may put pictures up here for general edification, though I'm afraid they're huge files and I haven't looked into shrinking them yet.
The following week I un-laced all but the first stitches of the previous session and reworked about as much as I kept, and I think it did better, but now I'm trying not to work on it when I'm hungry and that pretty much leaves out my time after work. I wish I could go to my teacher's next class in a couple weekends! But that weekend is Girls' Night Out, my third year gathering with friends while our husbands, SOs, and the single guys in the group hang out and do their own thing somewhere else. I would not miss that even for a chance to perfect an art.
The internet phone is a lot of fun and now, when it crashes, I can restore it from a backup card instead of taking it home to sync. But it is an order of magnitude slower than reading email in a plain old text terminal window. I am a full month behind in reading my constructed languages mailing list (I am so spoiled)...
The cat, who is doing well, is also spoiled. While we thought the weekend at the hotel in Ithaca would teach her humility, it instead seems to have taught her the most brazen courage, as she now routinely slips out the door into the hall when my husband is leaving in the morning. I guess after travel and strange hotel rooms, nothing is too frightening any more.
I must go to bed. I'm on call this week, while bizarrely being simultaneously out sick. The two are not entirely unrelated - I'm an old thirty-something and being woken up by a cellphone does not do good things to my immune system, although how I really trashed it was by staying up late Monday night reading Tim Powers. What is the deal with not being able to stay up past 12 anymore? I fight it compulsively, but it fights back harder.
Or maybe I'm just hiding from the election results... I haven't been out of the house since Tuesday.
