Reading The Tea

Last night, dreams of tangos past and somewhat future. Dances of forgiveness with people who weren’t quite.

I’d forgotten the joys of Oregon March. Today is drizzle dreariness, but yesterday the sun was shining and both D & I stripped down to our T-shirts on our Hill Walk. Yes, capitalization is intended. We are addicted to the walks put together by Laura Foster in Portland Hill Walks We did our 5th walk, walk 15 “Leach Botanical Garden to Mount Scott Loop.” Generally speaking, I have very little patience for guide books. This book has won me over. It’s like taking a walk with a friend. A friend who has a great deal of esoteric knowledge about the history of the area your walking through, and just happens to know all of the uses that native americans had for the specific type of fern you’re passing. Oh, and one who knows that the seemingly private drive right next to that person’s garage is actually public property, and that when you walk down it you’ll be in a tunnel of tree branches that seems right out of fairyland. Thus far we’ve done walks 1,2,4 and 6. Walk 15 had a marvelous start, wandering around the Leach Botanical Gardens and a breathtaking perspective of Portland amid all of the mountains from the Willamette National Cemetery, but the neighborhoods in between weren’t as delightful as the rest of the walks we’ve taken. It could also be that D & I both tend to hate houses that are less than 50 years old.

In the media consumption category, Lost has fully gained me back as a viewer. Yay for Brian K. Vaughn! I think (fingers crossed) that it might actually be going somewhere. Last night we watched the newest episode while sipping gin and tonics and ooh, not going to say more in case you haven’t watched it yet.

Last night D & I also watched The Big Sleep, the 1946 Bogart and Bacall film. Did you know that it could have been released in 1945? It was pushed back by the studio as they rushed to release all of the war-themed movies before they became too dated. A detective flick? It could wait. According to the commentary special feature with the film, it was a good thing for Bacall’s career. She’d been a big hit with their earlier film To Have and Have Not, but received bad reviews after her next film, Confidential Agent. Her agent contacted the director about his concerns about Bacall’s part in the original edit of “The Big Sleep,” and in January 1946 Bacall and Bogart (now a couple) shot some new scenes. While we watched I knit square 18 of my afghan. Yes, I’m very behind on posting photos of previous squares. Not to mention other knitting projects…

Recently I’ve been contemplating rock climbing as dance. Watching how people move across the routes. The light change-step across a hold. What’s the difference between climbing and dance? Could climbing be a form of dance? Is it about the intent, or the performative aspects? That falls apart a bit — in a dance class I’m not considering performance; I’m more introspective. And in the rock gym… well, I’d challenge anyone who says that some of the people climbing there aren’t performing. Something to consider more later. Concepts that help both my tango and my climbing: relax, breath, engage the core. Thought: wall as partner?

I wasn’t such a fan of square six. In fact, I started and ripped it out three times. Not because it’s complicated, mind you, but because I was following the instructions for a different square, so it wasn’t looking right. Oops. Then after all that, it looks kind of boring.

This one was quick, and lots of fun. I’d do something in it again. Maybe fingerless gloves. But then, I think that most of these squares would make a good base for fingerless gloves. Here’s a detail shot:

More weave, this time with seed stitch. It needs to be blocked. Especially after being squished in my drawer.

Here’s a detail:

And here’s the back, because I think that it looks interesting.

The Basketweave in square three is still nice and simple (good for knitting while watching a movie or engaging in an intense conversation) but quite attractive.

Here are the other two colors, in Stockinette Stitch. Uncontrollable curling makes me almost (almost) dislike working in Stockinette.

After many, many months I finally pulled out my camera to photograph the squares completed thus far. For those of you who’ve been waiting with bated breath, here’s square one:

For those of you wondering, it is not a Gryffindor scarf — the color combination is purely coincidental. As you can see, this first square is knit, knit, knit, knit, in stripes.

Last night I dreamt that Dustin and I were pulling up in front of “home” (which turned out to be a huge Victorian) and saw, on the porch, a little girl ringing the doorbell in frustration. We realized that it was Halloween, and that we had forgotten to buy candy. I felt horrible, since we’d forgotten and left the lights on, so I ran up the stairs to give her a green popsicle that I had with me. Dustin left to grab some candy so we’d be prepared for the rest of the night. I’d no sooner gotten to the porch, when I heard a horrible sawing sound issuing from the basement. The girl and I looked at each other in terror, and I said, “We have to get into the shelter of the house.”

She looked torn, as did her brother, who seemed to be with us now, and said, “We’re not allowed to go into stranger’s houses.”

“Quite right,” I said briskly, “but these are extenuating circumstances.” They were still hesitating, when we saw three enormous monsters climbing up the stairs. We all ran into the house.

For some reason the door was really heavy, and I could only get an inside, flimsy one close, without locking it. I leaned against it to keep the monsters out. “I’m not sure how long I can hold it,” I gasped. There were two another adults there, someone who was sort-of-Dustin and sort-of-not and a women who was fretting about packing. She kept insisting that the children put their shoes into the suitcase in the correct order (Because evidently they lived there, now.). The man passed me my “wand,” but it snapped, since it was made out of a shishkahbob skewer. I called that I needed another, more sturdy one — why not a knitting needle. My plan was to hold the door for as long as I could, while the others got the children out.

As I slumped against the door, I contemplated death calmly, and was sure that it was nothing that “Miss Julia Edwards” couldn’t handle. (Not sure why that was my name.) However, I could feel the door starting to open in, despite my best efforts, and the children were still there. In a last effort, I stuck my white nylon 10-inch needle through the mail slot, not sure what spell I was trying to cast. Suddenly there was a flash of white light, and the three monsters turned into a frog, an otter and a duck. A river began to form in the driveway, washing them away. They managed to call, before they disappeared, “We’ll be back!”

“Get in line,” I retorted. Then, turning to the rest of the people in the house I asked, “Or should I have said, ‘take a number’?”

I haven’t posted for quite some time, so this is just going to be jumble of things that I’ve intended to write full posts about, but somehow haven’t found the time.

First, sympathy to everyone affected by the Virginia Tech shootings yesterday. There’s a lot to say about that, but my fingers won’t type the right things, so I’ll leave it at that.

Did the Yale Tango Festival weekend-before-last. It was my very first tango festival (Awww…)! Now I’m afraid that I’m going to become an addict. One of the highlights for me was Robin & Jennifer’s gaucho class. Now I (likely) embarress anyone with the misfortune to wait on a subway platform or elevator bank with me by practicing letting my leg have it’s own weight while swinging. Brigetta and Tomas’ milonga musicality class may just have changed my feeling about that dance forever. After a couple of classes from the school of thought where you have to keep. going. on. every. beat. sometimes. go twice. but. always. fast. I was sure that I’d never really enjoy it. They introduced the revolutionary idea of actually listening to the music, and varying speed of step accordingly (twice in a beat, every beat, every other beat, long pauses…). I lead Carlos and Tova’s turns class, but actually took away an interesting exercise that mostly pertains to follows — put all of your weight on one foot, twist your upper body 90 degrees on one directions, and let your lower body catch up. Repeat. Good obliques workout, different way of thinking about ochos.

In other tango news, I took a follower’s technique over at Dance Manhattan from Valeria. She puts so much musicality and expression into just an ocho, just a step. Tempo/ emphasis can be effective embellishments.

Since I didn’t get around to posting last Friday, the 13th, I’ll mention now that some people suffer from paraskavedekatriaphobia.

Last night I went to the  church of craft meeting in the East Village, at the lovely new Rapture Cafe. Lovely people, lovely projects, lovely cafe.

Last Friday night/ Saturday morning Dustin & I went to the last big party at 3rd Ward. As the danger parties tend to be, it was eclectic, bleary, pillowy, flashing, with lots of new friends.

Other things going on in life, decisions being made. How’s that for nice & vague? Almost a flashback to my early LJ days…