But that’s not what I meant to write about, that’s not the meaning of “dates” that brought me here; I get so distracted by words I dare not dip into the dictionary to look up a word, because one leads to the next and then a good hour is gone. Ditto encyclopedias, or what passes for them now.

Good grief, digressions! DATES, Lori, what were you going to say about dates? Oh, right. So I didn’t get to go on my date with Will a couple of days ago because I was felled by a mighty migraine. I get them irregularly, and they’re usually handled quite easily with a sumatriptan inhaler (god bless you, GlaxoSmithKline, makers of Imitrex). Back in the 1980s, when the only delivery method was an Imitrex injection, I took those but they inevitably left me with a different kind of crushing headache. The inhalers were an improvement in many ways — no need to inject yourself (a biggie), no crushing chest pain as the medication moved up the body, and no injection headache. The worst thing about the inhalers is the extremely nasty taste as the remnants of the spray drip down the back of your throat. Still, now and then I get a migraine that requires two inhalers and that does leave me with a very bad rebound headache, and that’s what happened this go-round. I completely lost yesterday to the weird strangeness of the post-migraine / post-too-much-migraine-medicine fog.

I’m hoping Will and I can recreate our date this coming Thursday; that’s our plan, if he isn’t scheduled to work. But tonight I have a dinner date with my friend Temma, at a Thai restaurant she introduced me to in our neighborhood. That’ll be fun, and I know I’ll leave feeling much better. Sunday I’m going to see Richard III at BAM, and the following Friday my husband and I are going to see the Cloud Gate 2 performance. Lots of great dates coming up in my immediate future — also, youngest daughter’s 21st birthday, the anniversary of getting engaged to my husband, Valentine’s Day, and lots of other shows and performances in my calendar. It’s been a kind of hard slog the last couple of weeks, so having these wonderful dates to look forward to really helps.

Today I made an official declaration (to myself) that the pity party is now over! Enough already. It’s so easy to indulge self-pity — at least it is for me — but that just keeps it going rather than exhausting the well. So I open the blinds (figuratively), let in the sun, make a big cup of tea, and turn my eyes outward. The view is much sunnier, even in winter.

Jane is a prolific and beautiful writer — a writer of novels and poems, and decades of journalism. She’s exceptionally smart and insightful. She’s my mentor in saying what you want to say (whether she knows it or not), because she does that. As a southern woman, I nearly choke to death on “nice,” and live with a clenched jaw from not saying what I want to say, so I admire Jane tremendously for this part of who she is. She’s curious, and her training as a reporter means she’s going to ask you questions, and keep asking questions, until she understands. She’s deeply emotional, and easily touched, and grapples with the deep issues of life in a way that resonates with me. Whenever I see her, we talk talk talk and run out of time before we run out of things to say. I love her.

Mary worked in publishing until she had a major stroke at 41. She’s also exceptionally smart and insightful. For a time, it seemed that the stroke caused her to lose everything — fluid speech, the ability to do her job, much of her sense of self — but another thing about her is that she persists in such a wonderful way. It’s like there’s a beautiful light inside her that simply will not go out, no matter what. When she was in the hospital after her stroke, there were so many people who loved her who wanted to visit that we had to create a spreadsheet with sign-ups, in 15-minute slots. Mary is very deep, and we have spent so many hours together talking about our struggles, our histories, our ongoing concerns. She’s also deeply emotional and easily touched. Now she’s getting involved in so many areas of stroke advocacy, and last night she was telling us about this thing she’s spearheading, that place she’s volunteering, this effort she is joining, the other thing she’s eager to work on. I love her.

So me being me, I was thoroughly enjoying talking with them last night while also feeling like the odd woman out, like I was just eavesdropping on the lives of two fabulous women who are Doing Big Things while I sit on my couch editing work others have written, not even doing my own. This morning, in her email to Jane and me, Mary said she felt like she had been “eavesdropping on such a high-level intellectual/literary/writerly/fertile discussion.” Which immediately cracked me up, because she was right there in the thick of it as a participant! For all I know, Jane was doing something similar with Mary and me. I wonder what that’s about. Our conversation was a full and fast river of all three of our voices — no one dominated, no one was excluded at all, the only judgment at the table was encouragement and expressing appreciation. So it wasn’t coming from outside, it must be a reflection of our own senses of uncertainty about ourselves.

Still, when I left them last night, I felt on top of the world, as I always do after I spend time with friends. I suspect this is unique (at least in degree) to female friendships. Whenever I leave a female friend, I feel encouraged, and valued, ready to do whatever I want to do. Worries have been tended to and help given if possible; wishes and dreams have been fanned by their belief in me; and my heart is light because it’s been held up in friendship. It’s a pretty great thing.

[since Saturday Jan 14th is a digital sabbatical day for me, this post was written on Friday Jan 13th and scheduled to publish on Saturday]

We were off to the subway at 9:45, to go downtown to City Winery in Soho for my klezmer brunch. There was a jazz guitar player at our station, playing my song (Somewhere Over the Rainbow). It was so beautiful, resonating and echoing in the subway, it made me cry and feel like it was a serendipitous start to my day. Oh — and the day itself was stunningly beautiful, bright blue skies and sun. Then on the way downtown, at one stop a band got in the train. . .  mariachi!! I love the mariachi bands, they’re my favorite. They were wonderful, my cheeks were hurting from grinning so hard. Two for two, my favorites, oh what a day.

At the restaurant, the receptionist was downright mean — who cares, it’s my birthday. We arrived at 10:30, and the music was to start at 11, so we ordered our food. Despite what the menu said, our sour waitress said they don’t serve espresso drinks, just plain coffee (maybe she was tired of disappointing everyone since all around me people were trying to order cappuccino). Who cares. Coffee is fine! I ordered  a frittata with onions and goat cheese; my husband can’t stand goat cheese, so I get it when I’m out. Score! My song, mariachi, and goat cheese. Winning, what a birthday!

The food arrived just before the music was to start, which made me so happy. The trouble was that the band didn’t seem to be ready. One guy would be on the stage, occasionally two, rarely the same two, and never the whole gang. The restaurant had loud music playing on the big speakers and the band members would do warm-up runs at the same time, and there was a huge group of very loud people off to the side, all shouting at the same time. Cacophony. 11:10, no music. 11:15, 11:20, 11:25, 11:30. No music. And still, the entire band was never on the stage at the same time. Finally, at 11:40, they all gathered on the stage (music was to begin at 11, remember!) but they couldn’t get the sound system set up. The sour waitress came to refill my cup and I guess she was just as startled as I was to see the whole band on the stage, because she poured coffee all over the table and on my elbow.

Still. My birthday. The band finally started playing at 11:45. Here’s what I have to say to the leader of the band: DUDE. Just because you play the clarinet, that does not mean you’re playing klezmer music. It was jazz, and not just jazz, but the kind of jazz where everyone is playing their own thing, whatever they want, and the bongo drums were too loud on top of it. And also, dude? Klezmer bands don’t have bongos.

But I didn’t care too much. Breakfast is my favorite meal to go out for, and it was a gorgeous day. When the 3rd song still wasn’t klezmer, we cut our losses and headed out for a walk to Chinatown, to buy shrimp. Such a beautiful day.

I got emails and facebook posts from friends all over the world, several friends sent me patterns through Ravelry (more on those in coming posts!), all three of my daughters called me and touched my heart, I saw my son after dinner and he touched my heart, and my husband just made the whole day very loving and special. I had an incredible dinner, orange shrimp, my mouth still smiles remembering it. AND I got a funny story out of the klezmer brunch debacle.

So I begin my 53rd year honoring my commitments to myself. I woke up and wrote my morning pages, 750 words more or less; I ate breakfast, and then wrote for an hour and a half and finished a scene for my novel; I did my strength training routine (yay, back in that saddle!); and at noon I’m heading out for a very fast walk in the sunshine, and to drop off a couple packages at the post office.

Lots to say, still, but lots to do! Gotta dash.

I am by no means in that terribly hopeless place, but you know how life just kind of grinds sometimes? World news is terrible, your personal life hits a bump, something freaky happens like you get a hug that breaks your rib, there are too damned many flies and crap it’s hot and muggy. It’s been a long time since you had fun, just some plain old fun. You’re in the grinding uphill part of the rollercoaster, and have been for quite a long time. Nothing’s wrong really, nothing’s terminally bad, there’s plenty of hope lingering in the corners, it’s not like that, but boy. Grind.

Zen Garden Sea Lace -- and why yes, dear Kty, I do think it would be gorgeous!

Today’s bouquet of flowers was brought to me by my favorite living Parisian, Kty, who happens to be on holiday right now. We’ve never met in person, but if you’ve read this blog for long you know of her because she shows up in comments and in posts (like me, her birthday is in November so she feels like my sister or something). One of these days I’m going back to Paris and taking that lovely woman out for a glass of wine or two or three. I just got an email from Kty asking me if I didn’t think a certain pattern (Kozue, which she gifted me) would look beautiful in one of the yarns in my stash, the one shown to the left.

Oh, the many things about her email that transformed my day. The thought behind it, I’m just grinning and feeling like maybe the world is ok, despite all the awful news (note: must stop reading the NYTimes). Maybe we hold each other up, maybe we give each other little smiles, little nudges, and it helps hold the world together. The tiniest things can be just the thing someone needs; I always know that but I don’t always remember it.

I’ll cast on asap and will post a WIP photo. Tonight I’m having dinner with two friends, one of whom is moving back to the UK (boo), and tomorrow night’s my poetry group, but my fingers will be itching to get going. Merci beaucoup, Kty.

Of course, the whole point of these little awards is that it gives us an opportunity to highlight other blogs, which is something I’ve been thinking about lately. Those of you who regularly follow my blog and leave comments, you’re very alive to me, you feel like you’re a real part of my life, not a part of my virtual life. I think knitters, as a rule, are among the nicest people on earth, and we all have this thing in common, even if our politics are very different, our lifestyles, everything else is different. I have this crazy little fantasy about all of you who read this blog: there’s some kind of party where all of you/us are in one room, and you all like each other. Of course that’s probably not true; you know how you can bring two of your friends together — they both love you! — but it turns out they really don’t like each other. Anyway, don’t rain on my fantasy.

That’s a long way around to say this: I’m supposed to name 5 bloggers who have fewer than 100 followers. First of all, I have no idea how to find out how many followers someone has, and second of all, I don’t even really care about that. I decided to take this opportunity to highlight five people who show up here at Thrums on at least a semi-regular basis, and who post kind of regularly on their own blogs. Naming people always means leaving out others, which I hate, but I’ve got this little idea perking along in the back of my mind for later, so I don’t feel so bad about it. SO! Check out these blogs and subscribe, if you don’t already:

• Knitting Relaxes Me — (me too!) This is Janna’s blog. She and I have a tiny Austin, TX connection, which always delights me. I love her blog, which is about 99.5% knitting, with the occasional side-bar note, always delightful. She lives in Iowa and she’s a medical librarian. Hi Janna!

• Knitting Linguist — (me too, in an amateur linguist way!) This is Jocelyn’s blog. Jocelyn lives in southern California, and she’s a frequent test-knitter for Anne Hanson so you’ll see her turning up here and there in that regard. Once I was on my rav friends page and the ad on the left caught my eye, because there was Jocelyn! Like me, she has a very big smile. She blogs about her family, her work as a linguistics professor, and her fiber obsession (knitting and spinning). Howdy-do, Jocelyn!

• Yarnfest — This is Dina’s blog. Dina lives in Oregon, and the focus of her blog is on charity knitting, including a very large project she created and organized for homeless kids in her school district. That’s how I met her, and it’s been a great addition to my life, getting to know Dina. Her blog is primarily about knitting, but she discusses life too. Like all of you who circle around here, she’s a woman of great depth. Hey, Dina!

• Ink, Yarn & Beer — First of all, isn’t that a great blog title? Don’t you want to know more? This is Naomi’s blog, and I guess it’s obvious what she blogs about. We all already know about yarn and beer, so following Naomi’s blog also gives you insight into the art of sumi, brush painting. She’s a curious and insightful person, and I’m so glad we crossed paths. I never miss a blog post. Good morning, Naomi!

• Knit 1 Blog 1 — This is Pip’s blog. Pip has an online sock yarn shop, and she’s a teacher, so she’s crazy busy. She lives in Wales, which is so fantastical and exotic to little old me. I’d love to see Wales one of these days, and if I ever get the chance, I’m going however out of my way I have to go to meet Pip. Her blog also includes her very lovely photography of her part of the world, which I always enjoy. Bore da, Pip! (she wished me happy birthday in Welsh, which thrilled me)

I’m being swamped, thinking of all my bloggy friends not listed here: Kelli, Laura, Kty, Anne, Kate, Sara, Noreen, Andrea, Perches (you have to see her gorgeous son, Bebe!), Karie,  Pamela, Turtlegirl, another Sara, and I know I’m blanking on others.

Today, I opened my tiny NYC mailbox and inside was a puffy envelope — unexpected, what?! Tammy, my friend from Connecticut, mentioned and photographed in the pages of this blog, sent me an adorable little project bag she made, in bright spring colors. The sweet note commented on how she knew the winter had been getting me down. What a thoughtful and sweet friend, sending a thoughtful and sweet surprise.

It is indeed a big old goofy world. It’s one way for a while, then it’s the opposite way for a while. If you don’t already know John Prine, you might enjoy this little video of him singing the song he wrote that gave this post its title. He said his mother liked the little sayings — eat like a bird, quiet as a mouse, etc., so he strung them all together into this song.

If the rollercoaster is flying you down right now and you’re squealing whee!!, enjoy it! If it’s slowly and painfully climbing you up a hill that’s so steep you can’t even see the top, hang on. I’ve thrown my hands in the air and tipped my head back to yell WHEEEEEEE!

Today’s a big birthday for Sara — you’ve read her comments around these parts, I’m sure, and if you’re on rav perhaps you already know her (nhsarab). Maybe you read her blog, too. Whatever, wherever, however, today is a very special birthday so pop over one way or the other and wish her

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARA!!

I hope it’s a wonderful celebration today, and I wish you an exciting and happy year ahead.

Midweek birthdays aren’t the best for celebrating, and on top of it, she’s in meetings all day today, so if you’re of a mind, hop over to her blog or ravelry and send a little happy birthday of your own.

Happy birthday, Jocelyn! Here’s to a year filled with time for knitting, loads of smart students, good times with your beautiful family, and easily surmountable problems if problems must be had.

In 2010 I wrote 363 posts and added 17 pages to this blog, with 748 attachments in total.

In 2010 the posts were commented 1809 times, from which 716 comments (39.58%) were written by registered users/authors.

TOP 10 commenters in 2010 (I love you all — and everyone should visit their blogs, for real. I’ve linked to them to make it easy for you!):

• Jocelyn: 118 comments
• Tammy: 86 comments
• Sara: 73 comments
• Laura: 70 comments
• pip: 67 comments
• Kty: 48 comments
• Andrea: 43 comments
• Kelli: 38 comments
• perches: 34 comments
• Anne Campbell: 29 comments

There are plenty of new people who are lovely commenters, and I appreciate each and every one of you who ever leaves me a note. Really. Thank you.

TOP 10 most commented posts in 2010:

• a Christmas wish of mine….I can grant: 65 comments
• midcentury modern: 23 comments
• translation, 100 posts, and a giveaway: 22 comments
• catching up: 22 comments
• o my love, my darling, i hunger for the fall: 22 comments
• reading books: 22 comments
• Queue overload! SOS! Advice welcomed!: 20 comments
• i love it when a thing comes together: 20 comments
• le picnic: 18 comments
• a sneaky little idea just came to me: 17 comments

There were all kinds of other details in the summary but they were boring.

It was quite a year. Marnie got married, I quit my stressful job and went on my own, two pretty major things. I saw my daughters (yay!) but not for the holidays (boo!). I knit a few things, was healthy all year, traveled to Honduras, Laos and Cambodia, plus Austin and Chicago and upstate New York. Life is good, I am blessed and lucky beyond measure, I have wonderful friends of all kinds, and more things to do than time to do them. I met a bunch of new people who add so much to my life, even though we’ve never met in person. Life is so funny.

Happy new year, y’all. I hope we’re all here next year, able to say all the same good things and more, and count fewer bad things.

He lives in Connecticut and has been so-very-happily married for the last couple of years. I see him a couple of times a year, and yesterday was one of those times. He came down on the train and we spent the day together, eating good food, traveling to Brooklyn, doing some ho-ho-ho-ing, and catching up. One place he really wanted to go is a mecca for people who love to do woodworking…of which he is one (I used to be one too, but no room now!). So here’s my friend Sherlock, trying out some beautifully-made hand tools:

wave to everyone, Sherlock!

Sherlock has been my friend through some rollercoaster and very tough times, and he’s known my kids since they were in high school or junior high, in my son’s case. He has always felt like my brother – but in the best way, because you don’t necessarily like your brother, since you don’t get to pick him. Friend brothers you do get to pick.

One stop in our journey yesterday was the Brooklyn General Store, where I had to buy some yarn. I mean, I went all that way, right? And it’s the holidays, and I needed to get some yarn to knit a new pair of socks for my daughter Anna, who really loves handknit socks (somewhat surprisingly, I have to add!).

crazy zauberball, obviously!

sweet georgia - colorway "summer skin"

And we stopped for lunch at Calexico — WHOA, if you live in NYC and haven’t eaten there, add this to your list. Sherlock and I know from good Mexican food (we’re both native Texans) and while this is California Mexican food and not TexMex, it’s damn good.

See? The world turns. Sad days get left behind, happy days pop up, and now and then you get some excellent Mexican food. Circle of life. (ha, made myself laugh with that one.)