no. 13: uh

I have NO idea what to do with myself when I'm done school (finally).

Do I (if I get it) take the one year tropical internship with NO pay?
Do I just bugger off for a while, burning my inheritance on a backpacking trip?
Do I search for some sort of job with or without health insurance and employment security, but a better paycheque than anything I've ever had?

how much should I let money dictate this?
how much should I let my heart dictate this?



Oh, I don't know any more. Here I am supposedly in the thick of things, thesis-wise, and instead of being fully immersed in thought surrounding my experimental design, and reading papers of studies similar, I am instead hemming and hawing about what I'm going to do when I'm done. Or, well, really, in the fall, whether or not I'm done, it would seem. Yeah, that's right, I'm thinking about September already, and it's not doing me any good!

This blog is turning more into a me blathering to the void than expounding on the joys of knitting and hugging trees. I guess the forefront of my thoughts belongs solely to my concerns for the future. I'm sure my warrior pose will be all out of whack these days (I guess I'll find out tomorrow)... pulling too far forward (into the future). So, sorry if you're reading this thinking "where's the knitting??" my heart's just not into typing about knitting, even if I have made a pair of mitts and am in the midst of a pattern-free pair of hand-warmers.

Anyway, my regularly scheduled ponderances: what am I doing with my future? I went to Mexico for a week with my parents. And the leaving left me wanting more. Maybe because each time I travel I meet people who are far more interested in me than the people around me here at home. Maybe because I was immersed in warmth, a near 50 degree temperature difference from my current surroundings. Maybe the sunshine (and tequila) made me drunk and a little too wistful. But, actually, I spent a lot of time thinking... what else does one do on a beach vacation with the folks? There's only so much hanging out with the parents a person can take, and thusly I wandered the sandy beach a lot. And in my wanderings, in addition to seeing tons of birds and a few whales from the shore, I did a bit of soul searching. Admittedly, often enough I let my mind wander into fantasy, but I did get down to a little business... like what do I want to do when I'm finally finished my thesis?


just watching the waves often won out over all thinking...

And thus far, my decisions aren't so much decisions as they are me casting my line into the vast ocean hoping something might take the bait on my hook. Though I'm also afraid I'll catch a) the wrong fish, or b) a really huge fish I'm not prepared to battle out. While, on the one hand, I don't really just want a sardine, I'm also not sure I'm ready for a whale... I guess I'm hoping for a nice, medium-sized tuna, or maybe a salmon. Yeah, salmon. That's about where I'm sitting right now. I don't feel like battling a tuna. But the meaty value of a salmon would make me happy. Plus they're just such lovely fish. And let's face it, where a sardine would maybe give you a snack, and tuna would keep you fed for the rest of your life, salmon is probably just the right amount of fish. Good for a long-haul, but not huge enough to make you so fed up you'll never want to eat fish again. I guess that's what I'm hoping for: a medium effort, medium-pay, medium commitment kind of next step.


heer fishy fishy!

So... what are the salmons I could possibly catch in my life? Do I have any? And that's where it all falls apart. I've come across a few nice looking jobs lately, for Parks Canada, and for Greenpeace, but neither of those really says "this is what you're looking for." So, thankfully (I guess), it's a good thing they're hiring for NOW and I really shouldn't start looking for anything earlier than September. What's scaring me is that I impulsively (alright, not fully impulsively, it's been incubating for a good 4.5 years already) applied for a September internship with an international field studies program. Yeah, that's right, an internship. Probably something I could've done coming out of undergrad, maybe not something I should aim for coming out of grad school. Not to mention the nonexistent pay. But at the same time, it's situated in the tropics and near-tropics, and room and board are covered. So, experience, fun, adventure, food and shelter, plus year-round warmth... for one year... is it worth it? Will I get it? Will I want it if I get it? At least I'm applying. Other than that, I'm not applying for jobs. I think I'll let it go a few more months. I'm not worried in the least. Perhaps it's the thought that there will be something for me when I'm ready for it (do I get things handed to me THAT easily??), or perhaps it's the thought that I really shouldn't push beyond what I'm supposed to be doing right now.

Things are just getting... difficult for me. It's so busy, and so disconcerting at times. And I get so discouraged, not because I'm not making progress, but because this is no longer what I want to do. I don't really love research. I love learning, but not the statistical testing and publication that come hand in hand with research. So, the life of an academic is probably not mine. And that's fine. What did come as a bit of a surprise was that, in my committee meeting this week, after an impromptu presentation of my research design and methods, my committee all informed me that I ought to be a teacher. I guess I'm good at something, even if it's not *doing* but instead *teaching.* Still... that's a daunting enough idea in its own right. How does one decide to become responsible for the knowledge accumulation of other people? And how does one not become buried under the weight of that responsibility?

Forget the fact that I'm not even sure it'd be a good idea for me to teach... anything. I don't know anymore where my aptitude lies. Or, for that matter where my heart lies. Maybe I really do just need to bugger off somewhere and burn my inheritance so-to-speak... let my heart talk to me frankly, and come to some sort of agreement, that might in the end produce a little bit of job security and health insurance. Or maybe not.


or maybe I just need to find somewhere with a big, beautiful sunset every night...

no. 12: the need to flee

I don't know if other people get this, or if it is, truly the curse of a commitment-phobe, but every now and again, I have this overpowering urge to leave, to just get out, to up and go. I suppose it hits mostly when my responsibilities get the best of me, or when I'm overwhelmed with a certain sense of ennui, almost as if I've run into the doldrums and want out, at any cost. I feel as though I have panthers caged inside of me, pacing, urging me to let them out, urging me to get myself out. And if I don't do it soon, those panthers are going to pace themselves right out of existence. Or, more matter-of-factly, they are going to pace themselves into butter.

Okay, I'm mixing metaphors, and imagery in my head... So, as a child I was exposed to the kinds of stories children of the 40s and early 50s were exposed to. Credit my grandparents for that, and no, I thankfully didn't develop any of the nasty prejudices present in a lot of the children's literature of those days. But, I've been wrestling with an image in my head for the last while, trying to piece out what exactly it is and where it came from... thus the glory of the internet: one does searches. So, the 1939 Merrie Melodies cartoon A Day At The Zoo provides me with my image of pacing panthers... amazing how accurate the cage:animal ratio is in that clip to how I'm feeling these days, and the story of Little Black Sambo (please mind the horrid computerized piano music, there's a 'pause' button at the bottom of the page) provides the pacing animals turning into butter... hence the combination.

And it is thusly that I feel: as though, if I don't get out soon, there will be nothing left of me to get out. But the question remains, where is it that I should go, and what is it I am trying to get out of/away from?

I am getting better (I think) at trying to deal with some of this. I actually do get out - weather permitting, one would be foolish to set afoot now in the -24C windchill and seemingly perpetual darkness - and try to vent my... urges. But it is difficult. Winter weather makes it that much more challenging to sort through the caged panther mentality because we really are caged panthers, all of us. There is nowhere to go but our homes, or places of work or commerce. Everywhere you can go has some sort of implication associated with it, whether that of work, or domesticity or purchase obligation. The summer allows one to languish, and flee at all hours, comfortably, to a place of no particular predisposition, since the entire outdoor world is suddenly available. No such luck in winter. I went for a walk the other night, for reasons of at least getting the panthers some air and not just sitting and growling, turning closer and closer to butter. But, alas, winter is so much more confining, even if the atmospheric temperature is obliging enough to allow one to wander at 11pm with a down vest, light toque, a few sweaters and some knit mittens. There is nowhere to go. The sidewalks can be treacherous, even under the best conditions, forget near-melting temperatures, and thusly the roads are off-limit since cars need all the room available for their own purposes. And so, I tried a trail, figuring it was a little more out of the way, and cars couldn't careen off and hit me. But that too became treacherous, under-maintained, sloped and too isolated to assuage thoughts of angry mothers, even if the silence did me some good. So I walked, and so I got followed by a not-so-happy dog who barked and barked. But that didn't bother me so much. He stood his ground so long as I stood mine and kept my face towards him. Though the panthers weren't too pleased, and wished further to leave and avoid struggle. Cages often make one feel vulnerable despite having strength on your side.



So, the walk did me some good, staring down a dog, staring down the river valley, feeling as though the moon was watching me through her cloaked, cloudy hiding place, and getting enveloped in swiftly falling snow. I love the sense of silence and stillness imparted upon me when I stargaze (or, on more cloudy nights, moongaze). Winter nights are perfect for such ventures, too, since the sky, ever black, is home to the bastions of cold nights: Sirius and Orion, my winter touchstones. And seeking Mars in their realms this last while has been nearly meditative for me, if only it wasn't so otherworldly cold right now, I'd be out there scanning for their mythic presence as a form of reassurance. Perhaps reassurance partly because they are still there and I am still able to see them as the traverse the skies above us, and partly because Orion seems to be making a second home on my arm, in various slowly developing moles, my skin is producing the famed hunter in melanic effigy; he really just needs a right leg and bow, as well as the sure-to-be-following dog-star, Sirius. What can I say, but it makes me feel connected, somehow, though I'll never truly understand why a constellation is being replicated on my upper arm. Perhaps nature isn't as random and chaotic as we all assume (or maybe chaos isn't as random as we assume).

But my attempts to convene with our stellar deities hasn't removed my urge to flee. It's such a base instinct in me right now, it takes much (aside from the c-c-c-cold weather) effort to curtail any fleeing actions. Perhaps I should let it work in me as it would for a while and see where it leads. Maybe, just maybe, this need to flee isn't about physically removing myself from this place, but changing this place into somewhere I want to be. Though, fat chance of that happening. Maybe I should concentrate my efforts on making it easier to leave when the weather and circumstances make such an endeavour more enticing. Yes, maybe I should do that: prepare myself to pack up and leave. And no, not actually pack, just make it a lot easier to do so. Clutter is as much a cage as anything else out there. We shall see, perhaps there's hope yet for these panthers.

no. 11: meanderings

I'm not truly sure how my mind works these days. I got a blog because I was tired of the blog formats at other places such as MySpace, and actually liked the idea of the internet anonymity. Granted, as always I am bound to be found by someone who knows me eventually... But regardless, not my point tonight. My point tonight is that I got a blog, and suddenly I don't feel like 'talking.' Or, perhaps it's not that I don't feel like talking, I just never get anywhere coherent these days. My mind wanders like someone lost in a vast, meandering Zoo... like the time I went to the Zoo in Berlin (first day in Germany) because I KNEW I wouldn't have to talk to anyone at the zoo. ha! see what I mean, I'm not trying to talk about the zoo, but there I go talking about the zoo... Vast meandering zoos are great because you can walk a path and stop at just about any point, only to find yourself with five options for new paths to take. That is approximately what my mind is like these days.

This meandering thought process has led to the start and near completion of a lovely turquoise calorimetry for a darling friend of mine, the starting of what will be a very time consuming (but hopefully gorgeous) lace nightie from the free lingerie patterns in the Spring 2007 Interweave Knits, and most of one mitten. All of this, mind you, has been started since I've decided I ought to buckle down and do some serious work on my thesis. My thesis of "beautiful data" according to my supervisors. My thesis that WILL NOT write itself, no matter how much I try and convince it to...

And, all in the same breath - it is, after all, only the 17th of January - I am trying to convince myself that 2008 will be a good year full of productivity and change. Productivity, I hope, in the thesis writing department, although knitting productivity is also good, just not of primary importance; and change hopefully in the thesis department... primarily in the form of "I will finish my thesis and graduate this year." This year is going to be a mountain of change. Whether or not the roaring noise in my head and all the surrounding headaches amount to anything more than some nasty migraines, the rest of my life is going to change momentously this year. I moved last summer, and my lease will be up in another 5 1/2 months. I doubt I will be staying on here, in this cute, "very me" house (according to my friends). While I love living in this neighbourhood, I don't particularly love living with my roommate, and the house is leaving much to be desired, most particularly modern windows that actually insulate. I'm not sure I'm prepared for the step of finding more roommates to live with, or living with a friend, but I know I need change, and perhaps I'll be able to find a small walk-up or something amenable to my income that doesn't involve me being the only person to shovel the sidewalks or mow the lawn. But moving aside, other changes are inevitable. One cannot be a student forever - at least not in this day and age - and my MSc is rather palpably drawing to a close, if only I could get my butt in gear and write! And thus, with that, (6 months ought to seal the deal on both house and thesis, I hope!), I am... off to the races? I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Like the Berlin Zoo, I have the rather distinct feeling that I shall just come to a stop on my path and find myself with five different paths to choose from as I decide to walk onwards.

So, I don't know. Perhaps I'll end up visiting the Hippos for a spell, if only because it's a warm place to stand, and the large, lumbering beasts are kind of interesting to watch. Or maybe I'll head off in search of strange breeds of livestock at the back of the Zoo compound only to find myself face to face with all the animals I am so accustomed to seeing - being from Canada, I suppose what's familiar to me might not be to a German zoo-goer - that nothing is new or exciting except the surprise of finding such a familiar face in such a different location. Or maybe I'll be drawn in by a gaggle of bird cages, their unique calls and flashy feathers enticing me, only to find, hidden just behind them, the most exciting of all, the vast and wondrous elephant exhibit, replete with dexterous trunks and glorious trumpeting calls. Or maybe I'll just set myself down on a bench overwhelmed with choices and fear that I'm not going to make the right one... wishing I'd picked up the visitor guide map at the entrance like everyone else, instead of trying to decipher signposts written in another language.

My mind, and my life, it would seem, are like a vast, meandering old zoo. And now, all I can think of are the beautiful carpets of brown leaves that laid across the paths at the Berlin zoo when I visited in November, 2005. A chilly time to visit an outdoor attraction, I know, but I was never one for convention, and it sure beats trying to hustle through the crowd of summer tourists in uncomfortably hot and sticky temperatures.

no. 10: a merry, gendered Christmas to you!

well... all my Christmas celebrations have now officially come to an end. Ukrainian Christmas occurred (according to the Orthodox usage of the Julian Calendar) on the 6 and 7 of January this year. Presenting us with the ever present concern of just how much overeating one person can conduct in the span of a few weeks. Apparently, quite a lot.

Though, how can one resist when it is the only time there are vast quantities of Kutya (a honey-sweetened wheat dish to start off the meal), holubtsi (cabbage rolls), Kolach (fresh-baked braided bread), Nachynka (a sort-of cornmeal souffle) are available? Never mind a delicious turkey, stuffing, some perfectly cooked carrots, and tray upon tray of homemade dainties. I had resisted on ('normal') Christmas Eve, knowing the spread to come on Christmas Day, my aunt's peanut butter and chocolate covered maraschino cherrie s, but I had to cave-in and indulge last night. Like all Christmas treats, these delights are ephemeral too. It was so fantastic, and yet amazingly, I was hungry today. I have a feeling my stomach has grown accustomed to large quantities of feasting-foods, and will not appreciate my return to the typical "poor starving student" meal plan I'd been using prior to the holidays.

I love the holidays. Not only is there a lot of food to be had, but there are great bonding moments with family and friends, and there's an expectation that people take life a little more slowly, more deliberately and more attentively. There also seems to be a rather gendered division of Christmas festivities in all the events I attended. Who cooked the bulk of the food? The women. Who set the tables to overflowing with food? The women. Who collected the dishes and doled out desserts and coffee? The women. Who loaded the dish washer, and washed the pots and pans? The women. Alright, I'm oversimplifying. My father does an amazing job of washing everything from crystal to roasting pans, and is a huge help to my mother and me on Christmas Day.

Perhaps it's just Ukrainian Christmas where the the gender differences become entirely too apparent. The men bartend. The women set out dishes of appetizers and ready everything for eating, from the first course through to the last dainty desserts. And at the end of the night, when the boys and men have retired upstairs to watch the hockey game and check internet news, the women stay behind in the kitchen carving up the turkey leftovers, packaging up remnant stuffing and potatoes, and washing the seemingly insurmountable mountain of dirty dishes - whether too large, crusty or delicate for the dishwasher. One of my more memorable years actually involved the patriarch (though, truly the matriarch really does rule in these families) taking his delightfully tiny and new granddaughter on a walk-about tour of all things family and Christmas, from the tree to the table, taking a stop at the kitchen where all the ladies were busily cleaning up from the delicious supper. That was not the memorable part. What stays in my mind was the comment he made about how one day she would grow up, and like a 'good girl' would join the other women in the kitchen. And while I'm sure he didn't mean it in any specifically chauvanistic way, how could I not see it like that? There I was, on my third towel, drying dishes, while the only thing he'd done (and no, neither him nor I come from the host household) was help to carve the turkey... which it would seem is a most auspicious (if relatively simple and straight-forward) task.

Now, in all honesty, I do understand part of it. The women know the recipes, as they have been passed down from generation to generation by matrilineal line. But we all know dishwashing is a non-gender-specific task, so why is it that the very same women (particularly my aunt and her sister) who spent the last two days, and the week prior, preparing these traditional dishes have to then turn around and spend another couple hours washing? I really don't honestly believe anyone delights in washing dishes after the first hour of kitchen duty has elapsed. Surely, at the end of a cookie-baking session, there's a bit of sense of full-circle completion as the last bowl is rinsed clear of doughy residue, but no one relishes scrubbing a roasting pan. And all of us know that the more desirable thing to do would be sit and talk with your family, and enjoy that cup of coffee that's now coldly sitting on the crumb-scattered table. So why is it that the menfolk seem to have that privilege moreso than the women?

All this aside, I, of course, love my family, and will no doubt continue this odd holiday tradition of dish washing for many more years. And probably yet again failing to correctly pronounce the traditional Christmas greeting : Khristos rodyvsya!

no. 9: parallel universe

Okay, I need to say this somewhere, so it's going here.

I went to see Juno tonight with some friends. And instead of just seeing a movie, I saw another version of my life play out on the big screen. (yes, I kind-of spoil it, so don't read too deeply if you want to be surprised by the ending of the film)

The main character, Juno, could have easily been me if I'd made different choices in my life. It was so eerie. Eerie and heartrending. I laughed, and I cried. Oh, did I cry. There were tears streaming down my face, probably equivalent with the girl on the screen by the end of the movie. I don't know... it was so strange.

And the choices she made, good and bad, gave her what she wanted/needed in the end, even if there was a "bump" along the way. And I am incredibly jealous of her for that.

I didn't think it was humanly possible for something like this to happen, because, quite frankly, I'm okay with my life, and the past is, well, the past, right? But when you're shown a collection of other options, and choices you could have made but didn't presented to you, with their outcomes, it's an entirely different story. I felt like I was being shown what could've been, and I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I think everyone carries around particular philosophies about the past being unchangeable, and how having regrets doesn't really do anyone any good because you can't run back and 'fix' things. Well, this was a total presentation of all my regrets in one place, and where they could've led me... and I wanted it. Because, in the end, she had love. She had the love I've dreamed of many a long night, the love I never had the guts to even try to get.

I cried because it was a sad movie (at the end), and because I wanted what she had, and because she ached the same way I would have ached had I been in her situation - which because of this eerie connection was all that much more tangible a possibility. The movie was so eerily similar to what could've been that I was in shock for an hour and a half afterwards. Actually, I still am. The boy she wanted, the school colours, what the boy did... spitting image. Not to mention how much of myself I saw in her... my quirky ways and sarcasm, even her father... while not spitting image, a reasonable cinematic facsimile. Had we not moved, it would have been our house and our neighbourhood too.

It all comes down to choices. And the choices I made pushed me further from where Juno ended up, and towards other avenues. Not that these avenues are bad, but that where Juno went wasn't half-bad either.

I just... I don't know. I didn't want to be presented - on the cinematic version of a silver platter no less (it's a fantastic movie) - with option g of all the choices out there, after I'd chosen to take option w. You should never be presented with a path you know full well you could've taken long enough after you cannot take it any more that it becomes tantalising. I'm going to spend the next week kicking myself for the choices I made, and the choices I just let slide by me. I could've done things so much differently from what I did. But the past is unchangeable, no matter how much I currently wish it was the contrary. And while I could take up running around in those circles of thought, it won't get me anywhere, and like Narcissus, I will slowly fade away through the obsessive effort.

But, for the time being, I am absorbed. This is not going to go away easily. Juno was option g of my life. An option I was fully presented with but decided against taking. And while, yes, it's fantastic to have done all that I've done in the option of my life that I have taken, there are large chunks of that g option that I want.

Large chunks that I want, and I don't know how to get now that I am where I am.

no. 8: the slow drag to new year's

I am procrastinating doing everything right now. It's a frosty -16C outside right now, I don't feel like moving much, and those dishes in the sink just don't look that desperate to be washed. So, I'm in my newly cleared out room (read: all the junk got moved to the basement, I haven't become a neat and tidy person), staring out my non-frosted-up window 1 out of 2 isn't bad, right? at the snow coated world.

We have had so much snow since Christmas. It is at once both delightful and annoying. Where was this precipitation when we really needed it earlier this fall? Why does it seem like every time I leave the house, I have to clear off the sidewalk/my car? Why am I the only one shoveling all this snow? And where on Earth did that green John Deere bulldozer come from that just drove down my street?

anyway, short post, I just felt like posting... a picture and a meme...



1. Grab the book nearest to you, page 18, line four?
" - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu as un petit chandail neuf des Maple Leafs de Toronto, au contraire des autres, que tu vas nous faire la loi."

okay, really, it's just " - Mon enfant, ce n'est pas parceque tu " but I can't just leave it at that, it's a kid's book after all.

From Le Chandail de Hockey, Texte: Roch Carrier, Illustrations: Sheldon Cohen
The Hockey Sweater, truly, a Canadian classic, and a Christmas gift from last year.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can what do you touch?
a cd on my bookshelf: The New Orleans Social Club - Sing Me Back Home

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
That is a very good question. That I watched, I'd have to say It's a Wonderful Life.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is
noon.

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
11:57 am. I guess I was close.

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
The rumble of our furnace in the basement. otherwise it's pretty silent. The snow does a great job of muffling noise.

7. When was the last time you stepped outside? What were you doing?
Probably a half-hour ago. I had to open the door for the mail man. Who knew they worked on Saturdays?

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
my flickr page.

9. What are you wearing?
light brown corduroy pants, wool socks, an acrylic v-neck sweater in a lovely mossy green and a tee from the Calgary Folk Festival.

10. Did you dream last night?
I don't know.

11. When did you last laugh?
this morning as I talked on the phone with my mother.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
green paint, two cork boards, and some pencil lines where I intend to hang other pictures.

13. Last person you talked to before you went to sleep?
my roommate

14. What do you think of this quiz?
meh

15. What is the last film you saw?
I went through a bit of a movie binge prior to Christmas - how else does one get knitting done? I think the most recent was Love Actually. lovely.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Land, tons and tons of land, or well, more appropriately, hectares. Forest land, grassland, rolling hills, maybe some waterfront. Land that no oil and gas company will be allowed to touch. Land on which I could live, grow a garden and hunt/gather from the forest to survive if we do indeed hit peak oil and/or massive global climate change catastrophy and lose our current way of life.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know?
you... whomever you are, don't know much about me, that's for sure. I really like to support local and/or Canadian producers above all else. I guess that makes me a bit of a protectionist.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you do?
easy, cheap and totally sound renewable energy for everything... so that we wouldn't have all the problems we currently have.

19. Do you like to dance?
sometimes. Though having a partner would make it a lot more fun. Granted, I do like line dances.

20. George Bush:
Has the potential to do great harm to the entire world.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Helen. Or the name that seems to be at the forefront of my mind right now: Ginger (could one name a non-red-headed child that?) or maybe Rowan.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Evan. I like names that end in 'n.' And truly, this makes me sound far more decisive than I ever possibly could be. I would hem and haw over a couple dozen names for both boys and girls, no doubt, unable to truly pick one until I met the little'un good and proper. Names that float around include Owen, Ethan, Nathan, Tristan, Steven (note the trend!), and the two familial names I've always thought would be great: Donald and William.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
yes, yes yes yes yes! There's a part of me that's still dreaming of working for the UN... somewhere deep inside. And I do, somewhat secretly still want to apply for the iisd internships.

24. What do you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
"Are you sure?" Um, no. That's what I anticipate God will say when I reach the pearly gates. And I'll probably respond with "I don't know." And then I'll be told to wait outside until I've made up my mind.

The other option I can think of right now is "What the hell were you thinking?" but that seems, um... really, uh, counter-intuitive.



And, now that that's done, I guess I should figure out why my battery charger isn't working.

no. 7: decorations, knitting frenzy and last minute everything

Alright, it's been almost a month. wow, a month. I guess that's what happens when you mark papers and final exams, and have to do a mountain of sample processing, yay research! not to mention knitting. I haven't done this much knitting in quite some time, and I'm finding it difficult to a) stay motivated and b) stay seated long enough to get this last (and longest on-going) project off the needles and ready to be gifted.

Progress of late:
The BIGGEST TOQUE EVER

seriously, it's huge, I put it on, while wearing a bun and can still pull it a good 5cm away from my head on every side... but that means it SHOULD fit the person I made it for, with extra room, too!

THE SCARF THAT WILL NOT END

Okay, not that it'll never end, but that I'd forgotten just how LONG scarves need to be in order to be useful... It's from the Interweave Knits holiday knitting 2007, and you can find more of my notes on it on Ravelry.

MOM'S TOQUE, improved

yes, amazing self-photography skills, I know. But it shows off the duplicate-stitched snowflake quite well, I think, and now there actually is definition around these buggers, they're not just indistinct patches of white amidst the blue any more. yay! one present 100% absolutely DONE!

*phew!* progress is exciting. Actually progress in any general sense seems to be exciting, and I have tons of that right now. I had a meeting with my supervisors yesterday, in which they came away smiling saying I had "novel" information to present, yay! Now I just have to process and statistically analyse that novel information.

And, other things to look at. My roommate and I got a tree and decorated it, I'm so pleased. I helped my family decorate theirs on the weekend, and then we got ours on Monday - I carried it home in my arms from the tree lot - and decorated it Tuesday night. It's a tiny tree, only using one string of LED lights, but it has branches, full, green and beautifully scented branches that don't hold many ornaments, but at least look pretty. Our tree became a mix of folksy wooden ornaments, crafty goodness, and a punch of coloured glass balls for variety (and to lessen the red and white theme we'd have going without them)... crochet snowflakes and red beads make for a cute but slightly monotone tree, so I'm glad we could mix it up with some other fun stuff too.



Now, if only my baking and shopping were all done...