Rambling in California
Thanks for all the compliments on the shawl! Genny, I’m sorry to disappoint you as guinea pig! I still think your formula was correct, but someone more competent with numbers will have to test it.
I miss New Jersey, I miss being close to New York city, and everytime I watch an old episode of Law & Order it makes me very sad. (I’m a L&O junkie and thanks to Netflix, I can now see the good old ones again.) I miss riding the subway to 42nd st. to the public library, waiting at 2 am at the 9th st Path station on a weekend, (I can still hear the announcer in the Path, "the 33rd st elevator is not in operation…"), walking from the West 4th st stop down to Soho to Purl and taking the 1 uptown to see my friends. I miss the coffee shop next to my building and just about everything else, but somehow, most of all I miss connecting with the energy of the city through the subway, however cliched that sounds. (Although, if you talk to me in January, no matter how much it’s raining here in the Bay area, I’ll be thankful I’m here and not back east in the snow; I despise, loathe and detest snow.)
So far I have been determinedly bloodyminded about it, ready to scoff when all the Californians around me go nuts about the fresh produce here. So I went to the farmers’ market yesterday for the first time, determined to be unimpressed. And while I was gawking at some of the prices, I must say I got some real fruit and vegetables that smelt like real fruit and vegetables. Tasty, crisp and fresh. Green beans, okra, peaches, plums, strawberries… yum. It was too clean and quiet and genteel; some loud haggling over the princely sum the coriander was going for would have made me happier. But apparently the Oakland chinatown market is where all the fisticuffs happen over prices: that’s where I’ll go next time.
But California so far is proving to be quite a mix of experiences. My car was stolen right after I got here from outside my flat, but also found a few weeks later sans any damage. That was quite something. Using some gigantic lemons from a tree in my backyard, I made my first ever homemade lemon pickle. I was quite tickled at being able to pick the lemons right from my window. The mix is sitting in the sun this whole month, waiting to be slooow-cooked into a hot, spicy pickle, and I’m very kicked about being able to take some home for my mum in December. I love my students and the library. There’s a lot of Hindustani music happening around here, which is great. For some reason I haven’t been to a single yarn store here as yet. Tomorrow my book manuscript finally goes into production after loads of copyediting: no more frantic changing of footnotes or rechecking of quotes. Next up: anxiety dreams about evil reviewers. (At least I realised in time that I’d forgotten to thank ten people in my acknowledgements, and my editor corrected a million grammatical errors.) I also got possibly the worst haircut of my life yesterday and paid an arm and a leg for it. I need to knit some hats, quickly and not go near the salon in case I throttle that silly woman who did the hatchet job.
Oh, but remember my I-pod getting stolen during my move? I didn’t get it back and all the time spent loading music on to it, but yesterday the moving company sent me a cheque for the amount it cost. Small comfort, but still.
Bringing this ramble to a halt: I swatched for the cartridge rib pullover. Photos up next, after I’ve cast on.