So I cast on a very simple hat – the Sockhead hat, by Kelly McClure. COULDN’T be easier. Cast on 144, do 4″ of 2×2 rib, then 9″ of stockinette. I have some very lovely Addi turbos, and a fun yarn, wham bam. I cast on, carefully counting and recounting to be sure, before I headed to the subway. Knit the first round of ribbi….wait a minute. Why do I have an extra 2 stitches? It should be knit 2 purl 2 then knit 2, to start the next round! Plow ahead, just have one little section of knit 4, who’ll notice. The long ribbing section is folded over for double warmth, I’ll just be sure to keep it at the back when I wear the hat.

But I got to my appointment a few minutes early, and sat down to recount the stitches. 154!! Ten too many! What the hell. Rip out the 4 rows I’d done, will cast on during the subway ride back.

So I cast on, and started knitting – like 20 stitches, or so. Realized I was knitting with the long tail. Tink those stitches, start again with the actual yarn that goes to the ball, LORI. Then I realized I was just knitting knitting knitting. Dang it! Ribbing! Ribbing! 2 x 2 ribbing! Tink those stitches.

And stop for a while. I know this kind of thing happens to you too. Don’t you hate it when it does?

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I started college when I was 36, graduate school when I was 40, and I finished my PhD when I was 45. What this means is that I spent the bulk of my middle years among people who were considerably younger than me. I thought we were the same, and it usually took a reflective surface to remind me that they probably didn’t. Still, I think it’s one situational reason I’m kind of young for my age, whatever the hell that means.

But I wasn’t prepared for this:

My New York age is “28″

This New York age puts you-generally speaking-into the young category. That’s what you were hoping for, right? Run and tell your friends. Then get drunk (as usual). Then sleep it off. Then pop an Adderall. Then come back and consider experimenting with a more mature type of New York life (just once in a while). Have you ever been to the Village Vanguard or the Living Theatre? Eaten at Elaine’s? Taken a date to Michael Feinstein? Before you laugh, check ‘em out and see what old-school NYC experiences you can add to the new.

What’s your New York age? Take the Time Out New York quiz and find out!

And I answered each question absolutely honestly. Which means I said I don’t even remember the last time I was out until 4am. For example. I get my caffeine from coffee (not cocaine). And still, at the end, I’m a 28-year old NYer.

Who knits a whole lot. They didn’t ask me about that one.

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This line came to mind this morning when I saw the following article in the NYTimes:

we're perfect

Yep – that’s what it says. More city preschoolers are perfect. Test scores show. To me, that suggests that the tests are imperfect, or imperfect for assessing what they need to assess. Had I seen those data, I’d have written an article pointing out the problems with the test. But New Yorkers – you know how they are – instead say that we’re just perfect.

As a Texan, I really get that, and it’s one thing I find dear about New Yorkers. Well, dear and really irritating. Just like people get irritated (or worse) with Texans for their/our grandiose views of themselves (ourselves). NYers and Texans should either get over ourselves, or at least keep our mouths shut a little more often.

And look at this – what do we see in my gigantic knitting bag next to my place on the couch:

peasy and mondo, mixing it up together in the bag

That’s my Peasy sweater (I’m knitting a sleeve right now) and my Mondo Cable Cardigan (also on a sleeve). Two sweaters! But lost in sleeveland, the seemingly endless land of stockinette tubes. Yesterday I did a little Peasy sleeve knitting, then a little Mondo sleeve knitting, then back to Peasy. It didn’t feel like too much of a break, switching to the other. I don’t have a purse knitting project going right now, and I keep thinking I ought to cast on something small and quickly-finishable, but then I know I’d just do that instead of sleeves, and the sleeve-knitting elf hasn’t found my apartment yet so if it’s going to be done, I’ll have to do it.

Everything there is to do in this world has a bit that’s less fun than the others. I read an article by Jane Patrick in one of the first issues of Handwoven, where she talked about how much she hated sleying the reed (I think that was the detail). Then she realized that’s a necessary task, she’s always going to have to do it when she weaves, so she tried to reorient herself to the idea. That happened to me when I took my intro stats course as an undergrad – at first I hated it, but I realized it would be my essential tool so I found another way to think about it, and now I adore stats. So my mission is to find another way to conceptualize the endlessness of sleeves.

Happy Thursday, y’all.

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Anyway, that struck me this morning when I was handwinding a ball of madelinetosh merino, in graphite, for my Mondo Cable Cardigan. The yarn is lofty and soft, and the subtle variation in color that characterizes madelinetosh yarns is physical and lovely. And the resulting ball is beautiful, showing the work of a hand rather than a machine.

handwound ball of graphite-colored lofty merino

Now and then a moment of simplicity strikes, you know? A moment of just stopping the buzz and noticing. I’m trying to help those moments happen more frequently.

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They loved jug band music. My son cracked us up singing If You’re a Viper, by Jim Kweskin and the jug band. They loved Laurel and Hardy. LOVED ‘em.

So the totally impromptu dance that Marnie did with her dad at her wedding included a bit from Way Out West, one of their favorite Laurel and Hardy films. I’ll bet Marnie hasn’t seen that in years – maybe even since she was a kid.

they just spontaneously did this

the originals. and they really were.

And here’s the very short video – it’ll make you laugh. At least, it makes ME laugh. And get all misty-eyed, remembering my nutty little kids, parked in front of the TV falling over laughing at it.

The video is 2:01 in length, and they ‘commence to dancin’ at 33 seconds. I start my day with happiness in my heart.

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In a way, this gets at the essence of social psychology; especially in our western culture, we like to believe that we ourselves, our minds, our choices, are responsible for what we do and believe. Me, I decide. We become uncomfortable when told that the situation is leading us to behave in a particular way; we resist believing that something outside us influences us without our ‘knowledge’.

I think it’s extremely important to recognize that it’s not just those people back then, those people in that country, those people in that culture, those people. Them. We are them. (Of course people are also capable of rising above the situation, of acting from a thoughtful place; I’m not making an “always” claim here.)

Because this is important to me, I have been drawn to thinking about the horrors of the Holocaust. I tend to read about it if I hear of a good analysis, or fictional work. I tend to watch the movies – fiction or nonfiction. I was so moved by Everything Is Illuminated, the book and the movie.

So I watched a movie last night that was recommended by Tammy, a ravelry friend and regular commenter on my blog — Conspiracy, which is about the meeting outside Berlin in which the “final solution” was laid out and set in motion. Tammy mentioned it because Colin Firth is in the movie, and I’d just written about another of his movies, A Single Man. I looked up Conspiracy and saw that Colin Firth, Kenneth Branagh, and Stanley Tucci were in it – I love all three of them! It wasn’t available for instant streaming, so I moved it to the top of my regular queue, and we watched it last night.

The actors were wonderful, without exception. I wondered how they dealt with the roles they were playing – Tucci especially, who did a truly incredible job playing Eichmann. I felt a cold shiver all through my body and in my stomach when he came on the screen. Eichmann. The cinematography was beautiful, the direction subtle, the performances very strong. I have to see more movies with Colin Firth, and soon!

But I find that as I get older, it’s harder and harder to bear these things. It’s harder and harder for me to listen or watch as a people are described and treated as ‘vermin.’ As inhuman. Not human. Less than human. I never found it easy to bear, but I could bear it because I wanted to think, understand, remember. Now I’m not so sure I can bear it. I cried throughout the movie. I was so nauseous I thought I’d be sick. Often I couldn’t even look at the screen. Almost the entire movie was set around a long table, with the parties to the meeting simply talking – no actions were performed, nothing actually implemented, just talking. And I couldn’t watch.

It’s a very powerful movie, I highly recommend it. I didn’t know anything about that meeting, I didn’t know this part of history at all. When I was a little younger, I could’ve watched it more easily.

Now, I need a lot of knitting and contemplation to get myself back in order. Hello, Peasy.

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HOWEVER. I have a blog project with my husband, who is a clinical psychologist; we maintain a blog together called psychobabble, since we’re both psychologists. His posts revolve around therapy and related issues, and mine will run the gamut. I thought I’d mention it, just in case you’re interested in psych stuff. On psychobabble I write under my maiden name, to keep some separation from my personal online life and his practice. I just wrote a post about stress – if you ever feel stressed out, you might want to read it! (I should have listed knitting as a cure for stress. )

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look at that! I'm knitting a sweater!!

this photo has the most accurate color - green pea soup

the lacy front panels

Yeah. I’ll be doing this a lot more. And if you haven’t tried knitting with it yet, Rowan Felted Tweed is AMAZING. I’m just sayin.

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In most of the photos from her first months, you never see my face or head, because it was always leaning down into her crib. I never let the poor little thing alone; I held her all the time, nursed her all the time, never let her out of my attention. (Note: I really learned my lesson, and when baby #2 came along, she learned how to cry a little bit and wait for half a minute!)

All my thoughts today are with my daughter Katie, in Austin. The person who made me a mother, and saved/created my life in doing so. Happy birthday, Katie-Kate. (And Katie, look at the music widget below the photos. )

LOTS of photos after the jump:

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