Friday, October 28


The Beatitudes of Knitting (via knitty coffeeshop)

Blessed are the charity knitters, for theirs is the kingdom of acrylic heaven.
Blessed are the thrift store knitters, for they shall inherit the good sweaters in the family.
Blessed are the garage sale knitters, for they shall always have the right-sized needles.
Blessed are the fiber snobs, for theirs is the cashmere and alpaca.
Blessed are the spinning knitters, for they shall be healed of slavishly following patterns.
Blessed are the SnB and other group knitters, for they shall be comforted all their lives.
Blessed are the designing knitters, for they shall provide patterns for the new knitters.
Blessed are all knitters, for they shall inherit the earth and make it warm.

And also, a knitted digestive tract, so that I may have a new gallbladder.


Ellis. Tomorrow. Des Moines. Beth, Sarah, Fableous? Good times will be had by all.

Then home until Nov. 8, Dustro's birthday, to help mom around the house after second carpal tunnel surgery. That should be even more good times ...

Time to clean house.

Wednesday, October 26


I cannot figure out how to increase and decrease while I am double knitting. Hell, I don't even know if I'm doing it right. I did, however, find a pretty great picture of a squirrel, and I managed to graph it out. I forsee knit squirrels in the future ...

Also, I've joined a Flickr group called a month of softies, mostly because October's theme is All Hallow's Hysteria. I plan to take hysteria quite literally. Probably more so than they expect.


I forgot to write about the Concert Band concert I saw last week. They came all the way to Omaha, and, irony of ironies, they performed at a church less than ten blocks from the apartment. I didn't know such crazy things were possible.

Timmy called last Friday and said, "Where are you?" And I said, "Omaha." He replied, "Well, I'm on tour with Concert Band, just outside of Council Bluffs. We're performing at a church tonight -- it's on 114th and Center." I said, "You realize that's not very far from me." He laughed. I went. I listened to Timmy sing with a big ol' band behind him. It was pretty great. (Your voice has matured so much since I last heard you sing!) I got hugs from lots of Concert Band people that were very very surprised to see me there.

It was pretty great. It made me feel all pop u ler. lar. la la ... la la. we're gonna make you pop u lar. But seriously, good times.

Saturday, October 22

I hope you don't mind

I decided earlier today that, if I ever learn to play the piano, one of the songs that I'd like to learn to play is Your Song. I recently watched the newest Inside the Actor's Studio, which featured the fabulous Elton John. He performed it, and I think I want to learn it.

Speaking of television -- that noisy devil -- I keep seeing those damn depression commercials and I have to say, it is downright depressing. Too bad it (the website) is actually for a drug. Well, I don't suppose that is surprising, since all the world seems to need medication constantly these days in order to function.

Bah. Back to the mittens (an altered version of 'Chill Chasers' from my knitting calendar).

Thursday, October 20

Fibonacci strikes again

Armsock 002
Armsock 002,
originally uploaded by crimson.
I've finished the Fibonacci-inspired striped armsocks. (Yes, they're armwarmers, but I thought that armsock sounded more exciting.)

Mix two parts Lion Brand Microspun with five parts US 5 dpns, a dash of K2 P2 ribbing, and a whole lot of math-ed up stripes. Blend gently with a few hours of listening to TLC and/or HGTV, occasionally stirring in Turkish numbers, counting to 100, and weave in ends.

Works like a charm.


Avoid crazy dreams if at all possible. Especially ones involving the police and getting arrested. It will just make you crazier.

Tuesday, October 18

Small world

Choir 007
Choir 007,
uploaded by crimson.
Maybe stranger things have happened, but I'm not sure.

I went home, expecting two boring days of work. Early yesterday afternoon, my mom called me at work and asked if I was going to go to the choir concert with her that night. Not wanting to miss a chance at seeing my brothers sing, I agreed.

When I got there, I found out that it was more than a concert -- it was the Fall Festival of Choirs. (Gasp!) Not only did Chamber, Oratorio, and the men's and women's choirs perform, but Noteable Jazz (the show choir) did a few numbers, too. I was excited, because I rarely get to see my brothers dance (more rare than .

But then the choir director introduced the student teacher, who was going to direct one of the Oratorio songs. And it was Jenni.

I met Jenni years ago, during my god-fearing phase. We met at a church camp outside of Newton. She played and sang Tori Amos like a goddess. We were fast friends.

Jenni and I fell out of touch for quite a while. I talked to her maybe once or twice while I was at Luther. She almost went to Luther, but instead chose Simpson's piano program over Luther's.

After the concert, I searched for Jenni. We talked a little and exchanged emails. She told me that she'd thought my brothers looked familiar. Then I let her go, because she was tired and had to go to Waukee, where she has her second placement.

Seriously, it's a small world.


Sunday, October 16


Sushi 003
Sushi 003,
uploaded by crimson.
This is what I did while Dustro was gone.

Thursday, October 13

Dream sequence

Welcome to Crimson Cinema. Coming soon to a cracked-out brain near you!

Strange Fucking Dream, Take 1: The Police
It was evening. I was watching a movie with Crazy Roommate and her only friend, Crazy But Thinks She's Under Control. I was knitting (or I may have been crocheting -– that's how you know it was a dream) and sitting on the floor. Suddenly CBTSUC starts talking shit about me, which generally never happened before (while I was in the room, at least). CR does nothing, as she's dumb as a post. I get disgusted and start retaliating. I think I may have hit her due to some really foul things she said. CBTSUC decides that I'm "a danger to myself and others"* and calls the police. The police! (Not even the band with Sting.) So I decide to gather up my stuff and leave, slamming the door on the way out.

I walk to the other side of the building (which is Larsen, and set up a bit backwards in my dream, as there aren't actually rooms on the east side, which is where I started), then go up the stairs, and get ready to walk back to the other side of the building to my room (at this point I realize that I'm not CR's roommate, which makes me wonder why in hell I was hanging out with her and CBTSUC anyway, but it's a dream so who knows). Unfortunately, I see a custodian and think it unwise to go near, because obviously she's in league with the police.

So I go up to the third floor, to what turns out to be a giant suite that looks rather like an attic. I'm looking for Dustro, because I know he can help me -- he's in charge of the building, after all. So I find Dustro, who's just gotten out of the shower and is not very clothed. (By which I mean boxer briefs and a t-shirt, so he has some clothes on. And Dustro, what are you doing in my dreams partially nude?!) I ignore this fact, though he seemed very uncomfortable, as is expected when someone barges in on you while you have very little on. I tell him the whole story in a very long-winded fashion, ending with, "and she called the police!"* He rolls his eyes and thinks, "Oh, for fuck's sake." (Because I can read Dustro's thoughts.) He picks up the phone and calls someone.

Meanwhile, I hear a commotion out in the stairwell, which has a convenient entrance just behind me on the left. I see a small flock of middle-aged women tramping up the stairs to Dustro's suite, all wearing hot pink earrings (like these, but round). Following them closely are the police. I realize that the pink-earringed women are the people that Dustro called. (And of course they were middle-aged women. They're his best friends and allies.)

The next thing I know, Dustro's suite has somehow become a conference room (in that it has acquired a very large table and a whole lot of chairs) and everyone is sitting around it, including three women that loosely remind me of the doo-wop girls from Little Shop of Horrors: Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon. They were singing background vocals for most of the meeting. I think there may have been a circus somewhere in the background, because it was terribly chaotic.

I was trying to explain what had happened leading up to the moment when CBTSUC decided that I was "a danger to myself and others".* It took a lot more time than the actual events, due to the frequent interruption of the doo-wop girls. I finally got the whole story out (after mentioning that I was "slummin'"* by staying in Larsen), everything was resolved, the police left, and the dream ended.

At this point, I woke up feeling very confused, as has been happening lately. It was 7.23 a.m. Definitely not a time I like to see on the clock. I rolled around in bed for a while, but finally got back to sleep. Little did I know, I was in for a sequel not long afterward.

Strange Fucking Dream, Take 2: The Much Shorter Sequel
I'm back in the room, this time only with CR --no CBTSUC. She's just standing there in front of the TV, looking at me. I say, "Oh, not again"* because somehow I've realized she's called the police, just like the first time around. Moments later, I turn around and open the door, not surprised to find a police officer (female) standing there. "Just as I thought,"* I say, since I expected her. She takes me out into the hall and says to me, "You're going to spend the night at the coach's house. It's quiet there."* (Obviously, a female coach, though of what sport I never found out.)

She turns to walk back into the room, presumably to explain the situation to dumb-as-a-post CR. I heard a gasp. I turn around to look back into the room, only to see CR no longer standing in front of the TV. I don't go into the room because I understand what has happened: CR had killed herself (or near enough to it) during the few minutes we were standing in the hallway. There's blood, I know, though I can't actually see anything from my perspective in the hallway. The scene darkens.

Then, to my amazement, the credits roll, and there are pictures of each actor with their name. The middle-aged, pink-earringed women are back, this time with light pink earrings in the same style. They're just back for the credits.

This time I woke up some time after 9.30 a.m., feeling much more confused and ready to not have any more crazy dreams, so I hauled my ass out of bed.

And that, dear readers, is what's going on inside my head. I kid you not.

* Quotations indicate actual quotes taken from the dream.

Monday, October 10

Crimson needs

A meme of sorts, which turned out to be mildly entertaining, from Gidget casts on. How? Google your name + needs.

  • He *knows* what Crimson needs, and if they won't provide it, he'll subvert or betray his own playing style to try and fill the gap.
  • CRIMSON NEEDS TO FUCKING GO. Yes. Correct. Affirmitave. That's right. I agree. How many times must we say it?
  • But Crimson needs a contribution of power and even more extra feeling.
  • THIS is where the Crimson needs to concentrate.
  • Crimson needs to develop a few more levels to get this game going or have a conversion tool for KQ1 games.
  • Crimson needs to hurry up and pull someothing out of his hat soon, and that turns out to be Gryphons.
  • That damn Crimson needs to get over the fact I'm old enough to know what I'm doing.
  • And Crimson needs someone to keep her outta my hair.
  • Crimson needs a land where she is able to have intellectual conversation, but also be free to frollick and be silly if she chooses, without the fear of being attacked.
  • I think Crimson needs to reinstall steam so me and him can knife.

  • Last but never least ...
  • Crimson needs to get its goddamn priorities straight.

Damn right she does.

Sunday, October 9

Fall has fell

I got woken up from a nice warm slumber this morning because my mom wanted me to take pictures at church. She's crazy, but I did it. Got all cold, too.

I have to say that the festival isn't nearly as exciting as it used too be; it seems that a lot more vendors than usual are just food vendors. (But I had a lamb burger yesterday, so that's something, at least. It wasn't as good as the ones at the state fair, Beth.)

Hopefully I'll hear from Brie sometime soon so we can hit the square. I think I'll have a gyro for lunch, as there's a gyro booth. My mom got one yesterday and spilled it all over her shoe. The dog licked it up, though. I think I'll get a giant pickle, too.

I'm going to take pictures of the parade, because my brother's marching. I'm excited to see him all fancied up with a plume on his head. I want to laugh at him.


I just found a pretty fabulous snake game. It's three-dimensional and addicting, which is excatly like I like my snakes.

Peace out, girl scout.

Friday, October 7

Romanes eunt domus

I woke up all frozen this morning due to lack of warm bedding, which I'll remedy when I go home tomorrow. I decided to thaw by watching a little Life of Brian, but I lost interest just after the 'Romanes eunt domus' scene. (To those of you who know Latin but haven't seen the movie for some ungodly reason, Brian's mis-declination gets corrected by one of the very Roman soldiers that he's telling to 'go home'. For those of you who don't know Latin or the movie, the correct phrase is 'Romani ite domum'.)

As time goes by, it becomes more and more apparent to me that e.e. cummings knows many important secrets.
To be nobody--but yourself--in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else--means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."

Oh, if you suddenly feel the urge to bid on something over at eBay, I've got just the thing. (Thanks to KL for emailing it.)

And after four years of missing the Covered Bridge Festival due to Luther's homecoming, I finally get to wander around our town square and explore crafty booths and, hopefully, find a giant pickle on a stick. (And hang out with some friends and stuff, of course.) Whee!

Tuesday, October 4

A small list

"My country tis of thee, sweet land of hypocricy", via Lick My Sticks.
  1. Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, liposuction and air conditioning.
  2. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
  3. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
  4. Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
  5. Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
  6. Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.
  7. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
  8. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
  9. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
  10. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

Sad server

Sometime after noon today, we realized that the server here at the MADhouse was full. No problem! we thought. We'll just delete a few files and make more room. I'm sure there's a bunch of old stuff around here that we can toss ...

After a brief server restart, we were back in action, or so we thought. Two of us were left here to answer phones and such -- everyone else had gone to lunch. But we couldn't open some of the pages after restarting the server. Despite trying other computers, we just couldn't get some pages to open at all. The program actually quit! (The nerve.)

To make a long and trying story very short, we decided that the five pages that wouldn't open were lost and corrupted, and now are currently rebuilding them. Thankfully, there were a couple of printouts of some of the pages floating around.

And I thought I wouldn't have to do much today.

Monday, October 3

The usual

During my weekly tour of southwest Iowa this morning, I was stuck behind a semi and a piece of large farm machinery at the same time. We're in the thick of fall, folks. (Or maybe I'm just in the thick of the Midwest.)

Daydreaming on Paper is an interesting site about paper journals, inspiration for them, how to make them, etc. It goes on the "browse occasionally" list.

But now I'm going home, for I'm hungry and done for the day.