Mother’s Day, 2008 (I know, it’s a bit past that, I’ve been a bit preoccupied). Léa and my mother at the brunch table upstairs at the Greenwich Ginger Man.
Walking down Greenwich Avenue toward the park:
Can you pick out the little dimples on the back of her hand and elbow? Too delicious!
I got to work today, and before I could clock in, I was told to call the regional manager. Before I clocked in. With trepidation, I called her. This is what she said.
“Pending an investigation, you are to leave work immediately. Do not speak to anyone at work, do not come into the store, do not call the store. You will be contacted by Human Resources Tuesday or Wednesday.”
She refused to go into it any more than that. No one would meet my eyes. I handed over the card I’d bought for A expressing my condolences on the loss of her dog into which I’d stuck a copy of The Rainbow Bridge poem. She looked at me like, “What’s this for?” I went into the back room, got the soda and half-eaten sandwich I’d saved for today’s lunch, and left.
I called G, horrified. I searched my (admittedly bad) memory for any incident that could have sparked “an investigation.” I came up empty. Everything was fine when I left yesterday, and I’ve been keeping my mouth shut. G said, come home, enjoy the weekend, you know that you did nothing. I’ve got a kick-ass litigator who specializes in employment law on my side should I need it. I’m totally clueless.
ETA 2008.6.16: I have been transferred to another store. I’m very happy. 
My niece, Léa (it’s pronounced LAY-ah, just like the Princess), who will be three this September, has finally started to really talk, in both French and English. My sister-in-law, P., speaks to her almost exclusively in French, while my brother, S., uses only English (well, very little French, and with a really horrendous accent). You can ask her, “Quest-ce va tu desire pour dessert?” and she will answer unabashedly, “Glace!” “Vanille ou chocolat?” “Chocolat!” Right answer, every time (that’s chocolate ice cream to those who don’t parlez). She can count, “One, two, threefourfive!” and then, “Un, deux, troisquatrecinq!” She is simply enchanting, I cannot stop drinking her in. My mother says that this is what it was like when I was her age. I positively fawn over her. I ask her, “Bisou?” and she plants one right on my lips. I cannot believe how amazing she is, and I’m not even her mother. She does high-fives, and says “Ta-da!” when she’s done something particularly cool, and throws her hands up over her head and exclaims, “Cowboys!” (my brother is a HUGE fan, don’t even start with me.) So here are two pictures of her, and her mother and father (you can totally see from where she gets her looks), and the two birthday cards she drew for me. Can you see the face on each? P. helped with the letters, but otherwise, it was all Léa.
We went for dinner at Hanada Hibachi in Mohegan Lake to celebrate my birthday. It was Léa’s first hibachi dinner, and she was appropriately impressed with the chef’s antics. He completely played to her.
Today is E’s (twelfth? thirteenth? I don’t remember which, I’m a bad aunt) birthday. We got her a nice pair of 5mm pearl earrings from W. She loved them.
I am having a hard time reconciling the fact that Friday, May 2d, I turned 40. Where has the time gone? I’m not where I thought I’d be.
To that end, I signed up for a jewelry design class at the Westchester Arts Workshop, which is affiliated with Westchester Community College. It is a for-credit class, so it will add to my paltry and widespread transcript. Jewelry design is something I’ve always been interested in, more consistently that any other field in my life. I began at age eight in summer camp, making crude (at first) copper jewelry with Red, the scary (to everyone but me) and ancient Silver Shop teacher. She resembled quite closely the shrunken apple head dolls she made with other kids. With her permission (and that of my parents), I quickly progressed on to working in sterling silver, setting stones (in particular a large picture jasper for Nanny, my father’s jewelry-loving mother), forging a linked bracelet (which I summarily lost playing soccer), each link by hand, never fusing two links together but soldering each one individually. I was Red’s pet, and I worked in the shop a huge lot of the time I was there. Each summer I returned, for six years, to work under the wing of the ever-more wizened, sharp-minded old woman. I continued on in high school, taking Advanced Jewelry Design with Diana, the eccentric art teacher. It escapes me what I produced in high school. Damned Wellbutrin.
To celebrate my fortieth, my father and stepmother provided G and I with a weekend of decadence. A weekend at the Waldorf=Astoria (don’t ask me why they put in an equals sign instead of a hyphen), including the horrifically expensive room service (see photo to see what a $100 breakfast looks like. There are four tea bags there). An amazing dinner with them Friday night at Daniel. “Passing Strange” at the Belasco Theater Saturday night. “Walking-around money” to do with what I would. I had some plans for us in the in-between time; Bodies…The Exhibition down at the South Street Seaport with maybe an excursion to Seaport Yarn, more yarn shopping, perhaps at Purl (we didn’t get there, only Stitches East). My allergies were totally kicking my ass and G’s were as well, so we moseyed down to Battery Park after the Seaport to relax on the green. I conked out for an hour and a half while G read. An exhausting, but fun weekend.
Edited to add: This is what G gave me for my fortieth; the most amazing stop sign ever. 5/8 carat total weight in brilliant, baguette, and radiant-cut diamonds in 14k white gold. No one else is wearing one of these!
(This is double-posted here and over at Cats, Sheep, & Penguins because I couldn’t get into the admin part of this blog. That is, the page hung for about two minutes and I got fed up and closed the tab. You should check out CS&P anyway, because there are some other cool posts over there.)
My name on Ravelry is “glitterbug” (natch!), and I’m a member of 39 groups, one of which is Knitters For Obama, which, at 7:14 pm on Earth Day 2008 has a total of 1234 members. The Knitting With Hillary group, by stark comparison, has only 183 members. Our group has organized a “call to service” effort; we’re knitting baby bonnets and bibs to be donated to NICUs in upcoming primary states in honor of The Gentleman From Illinois. For whatever reason, I cannot for the life of me get the NICU T-Bonnet to print, so I’m making simple bibs. I found the perfect buttons today at Flying Fingers in Tarrytown, NY (my favorite LYS). Posing with the newly sprouted hosta, here are the four I’ve finished, ready to be Priority Mailed out to North Carolina tomorrow. As to the yarnover eyelets on the red one top right; yeah, I thought about that halfway through. Eyelets? On a bib? Not too savvy. But cute. What do you think?
This book freaked me out as a kid.
You’re Watership Down!
by Richard Adams
Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you’re
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You’d
be recognized as such if you weren’t always talking about talking rabbits.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Your results:
You are Wonder Woman
| You are a beautiful princess with great strength of character.  |
Last night I went to see Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, aka The Yarn Harlot, speak at Borders Books on Columbus Circle. She was signing her fifth book, Things I Learned From Knitting…whether I wanted to or not
I got on the train, pulled out my knitting, and worked on my sock the whole way. Upon arriving, I found my way to the taxi stand, where I was about fifth in line for a cab. A pedicab pulled up and solicited the line-standers, finally getting to me. The driver (biker?) asked where I was going, and I said, “Columbus Circle.” He said that he could get me there in under ten minutes. I bit. The ladies next to me in line said, “You go, girl!” Hey, I’m doing my part to reduce my carbon footprint, okay? I was a bit concerned about my weight in the back of the pedicab, but I needn’t have worried. The driver (Chris) had calves like rockets. I got in, and he took off, too quickly for me to figure out the blanket. So I was chilly when we his Seventh Avenue and the wind came off the river. Brrr. We got there by 7 (a little more than ten minutes, but we had to wait for a Kenworth semi to move before finally getting up on the sidewalk), I paid (!), exchanged names, and I fairly ran upstairs.
I stood in back (as usual), but I could see her on the dais. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, my hero. She writes the most wonderful blog about knitting and her life in Toronto. She was funny, and topical, and talked about all sorts of things, including theta waves, and how knitting allows you to fall into theta more easily, and how constructive and healthful it is for you. About how scientists who conducted a study on theta waves and including knitting in the short list of things to help induce a theta state concluded that knitting was not a viable alternative since, and she paused dramatically, no one could be expected to “carry emergency knitting with them.” The crowd laughed heartily. Most of us were knitting something while listening to her speak, and we didn’t just find the needles and yarn at Borders. I carry a sock-in-progress everywhere I go, just in case I have a little down time. Enough to knit a round or so, while waiting on line, in the doctor’s office, on my paltry lunch break, anywhere. G came up with the excellent suggestion for when I’m having a particularly bad time at work, to imagine that I’m knitting. Mental knitting.
I waited on line for over an hour to meet her (again) and get my book signed, chatting with other women in line. Everyone is on Ravelry now, and I made plans to “friend” the woman with whom I spent the most time talking. It seems amazing to me that a mere year and a half ago, when I saw Stephanie speak at Barnes & Noble in Park Slope and met Penguin Girl, I was not yet on Ravelry, in fact, I don’t even know if it existed. I’ve been a member since June 20, 2007. EarthTonesGirl found me on line (she’d gotten there much earlier and tried to save me a seat), and we squeed and chatted and made plans to get together in the very near future.
I finally got up to the table, and introduced myself. She said, “I know who you are.” She remembered me! Squee! She told me she liked my shirt (my pink Obama ’08 tee, you can just about see the logo in the photo), and said that if she could vote in this country, she’d vote for him. I probably said something stupid which thankfully I don’t remember, she signed my book, we exchanged socks, and I gave my camera to the Borders guy in black who was standing there for the express purpose of taking fan photos. Also to give out pins and bookmarks. He said, “Anything for an Obama supporter.” I had my little bag of “O Is For Obama” buttons that I’d made at CafePress, and gave one each to her and the Borders guy. She looked for her bag on which to pin it, I am so psyched! I told her about the mental knitting thing, and she talked some more about theta waves, but really, I was just in awe. I know it sounds idiotic, but I want to be her when I grow up. I thanked her, and walked away, stopping to get some New York City postcards for the Postcards For Obama campaign.
Here’s the outcome of last night:
