151 Days… Wednesday, Feb 25 2009 

My wedding dress was delivered today.

Some of the problems with my slightly less traditional wedding involve this…I didn’t get my dress at a bridal salon, and my mother lives far away, so I shall have to struggle into the dress on my own, and pose in front of my webcamera in a video I can email my mother. All without Dr. Boyfriend seeing (I don’t mind him seeing the dress per se, but I dont want him to see me in it, and I  really want there to be dramatic suspense when he sees me walk down that aisle [in a garden wedding, it will be a feat if I can keep him from seeing me until I’m at the aisle] and I know I will be crushed if he catches me in it tonight and just goes ‘looks nice’ and goes back to studying). And then store it for 5 months.

My weight loss has stagnated and I am sad. I am also still not getting enough sleep and have been dead on my feet all day today.

No crochet thread delivery yet.

I think I am finished my summery alumna scarf. I was testing where on my body I wanted it to hit and realized I didn’t want it below my waist.


You May Be Right. Monday, Feb 23 2009 

I may be crazy.

I have made what may be a very bad decision, and have purchased some crochet thread so that I can hand knit bookmarks as wedding favors. That means 130 or so bookmarks in 153 days.  Now, hear me out. Doing the math, the price of crochet thread with shipping evens out to 11 cents per person, much better than any other wedding favor we could get. What we already have for favors doesn’t look all that impressive (even though it is AWESOME) so I really felt the need to have something else with it. And of course, I think everyone getting something handknit from the bride is awesome.

So….if I majorly eff up and can’t do it, we still have our backup favors. But I plan on doing several  different patterns, basically learning and practicing a bunch of lace patterns (something I want to be better at anyway) so that I don’t go mind-numb from the boredom. And if I am running out of time and begin freaking, the fact that they all already will be different will make it easy for a bunch of quick garter stitch ones to blend in.

In other wedding news, package tracking tells me that my dress is currently in California, desperately trying to come home to me. Yay! Now I must actually pay attention to my insane weight gain.

And starting next week, Dr. Boyfriend has really complicated rotations, and I WON’T SEE HIM AT ALL AND WILL BE VERY SAD WAHHHHH. If DB and I don’t spend at least five hours a day together, we get sad and whine.

Poor Dr. Boyfriend Wednesday, Feb 18 2009 

There is something seriously wrong with Dr. Boyfriend.

He gets to talk to people all day, rounding with patients, seeing his friends in lecture, being quizzed by attendings. I spend my workday in a cubicle on a computer “researching” (and playing Scrabble with a coworker). I don’t talk to  ANYONE all day. When  I get home, I am desperate for some human contact. He is just tired (and lame.) Of course, the only time he wants to talk is when I’m reading. or knitting something complicated I have to pay attention to. Or watching Ugly Betty. Do I bother you during 24? Huh? Or Lost? Well Ugly Betty is MY Lost! So leave me alone or else I will pause the DVR and stare at you in annoyance and later google Lost spoilers and work them into casual  conversation. This also goes for Doctor Who and Primeval and even the disgusting plastic surgery shows I watch on Discovery Health.

“I cut into a brain today” “mmm hmmm” “It was cool” “That’s nice dear.” “I want to be a neurologist” “Adorable” “Lars, aren’t you listening???”

No. No I am not. I am reading/knitting/watching Ugly Betty/fighting a boss monster/planning Halloween costumes/singing in my head/doing whatever it is I  decided to do when you became to tired or busy to talk to me. Damn straight.

In fact, what I am probably doing is planning our wedding that is 158 days away. The wedding you have done nothing to help with. The wedding that  is  driving me crazy because I suggested eloping, which you vetoed. The wedding that should have been small but thus far has gotten big, the wedding I am working on without any input from you, even though you are the liaison to your side of the family.

I might even be fine with this except the little issue of changing my name. His choices for me are option A: take his last name or option B: keep my last name but he and the kids will have his last name and I get to be odd man out.

No thanks. See, I have an AWESOME last name. It’s short but no one can pronounce it and it begins with Z so I’m always last which can be good or can be bad, and it’s super ethnic so I get to bring up that I’m 100 percent Polish, but the point is it is remarkable and therefore is a huge part of me.

His, however, begins with an A. LAME. It is unremarkable and boring and my first and his last together are the name of a celebrity. Who I kind of look like. Why on earth would I want to change my name?

My options for him are option A: we both hyphenate our last names. B: Only I hyphenate my name, but so do our kids. C: Our names stay, kids hyphenate. D: We both change to a new last name altogether. I suggested “Wu” or maybe “Jenklebriggs”. Option E: We make no compromises or progress and fight about it.

Thus far we have chosen E.

Ok, we do not seriously fight, we’re in love or whatever and are getting married so none of this is a big deal. I like to rant though, and this was a perfect opportunity.

The Ballad of Sad Subway Tuesday, Feb 17 2009 

Come gather round children, and let me sing you the epic ballad of the fast food restaurant known only as “Sad Subway”. Now I am a former Subway employee, which leaves me with an unreasonable love for the food/hate for the employees, whom I am always convinced are doing a crappy job that I could do way better.

Imagine, if you will, a Subway employee who was always smiling, pleased to make your food, happy to add a little extra lettuce, to only put a small amount of mayo when you ask for just a little and ask if that is enough, to create any random sandwich you wanted and figure out how to charge for it on her own. That was me. Now picture someone unhappy who slops crap on a piece of bread and doesn’t understand english. Those are the employees of the Sad Subway.

The nickname came about when best friend M came to me with a tale of woe and lunch. “The lady who made my sandwich was crying.” “YES!” I exclaimed, she is ALWAYS crying when I go in!” I then went on to describe this weeping woman. Eastern European with a very thick accent, dark lipliner and light lipstick, bleach blonde hair with dark roots, lots of eye makeup running everywhere. “Nope,” M says, “my girl was small and brunette”. Thus, we came to realize that it was not the PERSON who was crying all the time, but the SUBWAY that was making them cry. And so the legend of the Sad Subway began.

This “restaurant” is right down the block from my workplace. Also, a footlong veggie delight with cheese no oil or mayo is like 6-8 points? And I am full for just about forever? So anyway I go often. I can’t decide against it just because some woman is getting tears in my hot peppers. Since it is a college area, there is high turnover of the workers (I also imagine they get suspicious that there is a demon living miles beneath the subway, forcing them to cry so it can feast on their pain. I have suspected as much), and there is ALWAYS some dolt who is training and seems to find being a sandwich artist a difficult job.

“A BLT” I tell the guy. He looks up at me blankly, then a desperate hope comes across his eyes as he thinks that he may be able to trick me into ordering something easier, something he knows. “A BMT?” “No. a BLT” I tell him. “Look, I don’t even want tomatoes. The title is just a formality. It’s a new thing. I used to just order a veggie delight and add bacon to it but now someone yells at me when I do that.” (When I worked at Subway, we were allowed to  eat whatever we wanted while on shift. I very often just made bacon on bread. I would never have yelled at someone for ordering anything).

Now, children, just when I think it could not get worse, it gets odder. They hired a new person last week, a middle aged woman who could easily be the delightful mother of my original crying girl (who may be the manager now, I never see her crying anymore and she’s actually pretty good), Very Eastern European, very bad at English. Ok, I  don’t think you need your English to be perfect before you move here, or even get a job, but ….well…c’mon, it’s Subway. Can’t you easily memorize the words for the 6 or 7 different vegetable toppings before you are released on an unsuspecting public? By unsuspecting, I mean the guy ahead of me who was on the cell phone and thus was not paying attention when he asked for pickles and you put on jalopenos. Not the same thing. Oops. When I asked for Italian Dressing (oh dear god Pittsburgh has GOTTEN TO ME), she picked up Southwest with the clear air of someone picking at random, hoping against hope.

I had this woman again today. Just as bad as ever. Poor woman, her limited vocabulary and fast pace of a college campus Subway (it’s pretty much always really busy in there) seem to be a large ticket to crying city. Sad Subway has claimed another victim. Today, in fact, the front door was broken. Broken how? I’m not sure (once, at my Subway, some neighborhood girl came in to ask a friend who worked there for a free sandwich. When refused, she got angry and slammed the front door, putting her hand through it. That was a fun day.) the door was covered in posters (why not just one?) that asked us, the customer, to gently close the door and be assured that it closes before we move along, as it is broken and may shatter into  a thousand tiny glass shards at any moment.

(Bonus story from when I worked at Subway: We had a “restroom for customers only” sign on oru front door. Some lady came in, used the restroom, and on the way out we calmly repeated this sentiment, suggested maybe she was interested in a soda (didn’t expect her to buy anything, but at least discourage her next time) and she FLIPPED out, saying we wouldn’t let her leave because she used the bathroom, and actually calling the police. On speakerphone. The police call went like this “Help me I’m being held hostage in a subway!” “which line ma’am? do you know the closest stop? Is this the Market Frankford line?” “No, a Subway. The sandwich shop. I went to the bathroom and they want me to buy a soda.” “Um, ok, I dont think we can help you there ma’am”)

I Like Yarn. Wednesday, Feb 11 2009 

I have a crush on every yarn Berrocco produces. I intend to buy the company. Bwahahaha.

It’s getting warmer, just as I am getting proficient at knitting. Well, there will definitely be more cold before winter is over, these 60 degree days are flukes, but I still think I am going to skip over the concept of  “summer knitting” altogether and just get started on my Christmas knitting.

It’s interesting trying to judge why I enjoy knitting. I’m very impatient and want the product to be over already, yet I don’t always want the finished product. I try to convince myself it’s economical to make things myself, but spending $30 on yarn for a vest that I wouldn’t pay $40 at Urban for isn’t worth it… I do definitely enjoy the bragging rights that comes from “Oh this? I just finished it last night! Thank  you” etc. And I like being busy, having a project I am doing.

I guess I liken it to when I am reading. Sometimes, I want to just be finished a book already, because I want to know the whole story, I want it to be in my head, I can’t sit and enjoy in meanderingly. But afterwards, I am sad to see it go, I feel lost and dejected when I am between books. I’m an odd combo of process knitter and finished product knitter, where I want both. Or neither. With books, it’s easy to solve, I’m a re-reader and love to go back to my favorites. I guess the knitting equivalent is to do the pattern again, changing the parts I didn’t like, savoring the parts I did, content in the knowledge that I have done it before and know the full picture.

Will I Actually Be Able to do That Someday??? Monday, Feb 9 2009 

I look at people’s knitting blogs and finished objects etc and I am so often completely overwhelmed. Will I actually be able to  do that someday? Or is it possible that there is a ceiling that I will eventually someday hit and never be able to get better than? I am still in the stage where I am taking baby steps towards simple shaping, so reading and viewing pictures of someone making complicated sweaters from their own designs is mindboggling. I’m not even good enough yet to make anything with  sizing! Or good enought to change a pattern because I like the idea of one neckline better than another.

I had a break from work this past week. My Grandmother died, and thanks to the fact that I sold out to work for “the man” I had the luxury of a five day bereavement leave so that I could drop work like a hot potato and fly out the night to be with my parents. Sometimes selling out is a really good idea. Dr. Boyfriend was able to petition to take his Friday test early and was able to  make it down for the funeral. All things considered, it was a relatively nice trip. Tragedy aside, somewhere in the hours of visiting with my other Grandmother and watching DVDs of Primeval with my Dad, I finished the back of my circular shrug and was able to make the super sloppy increases back into the ribbing. Somewhere in the mess of travel my ribbing did mess up, but it’s enough at the increase that it is not very noticeable and I left it alone. Then the increases were ugly and may be wrong. I’m not sure. I will care a lot more on my next one, when I make it in a color I’m more likely to wear. Emerald green, perhaps?

i really hope that  if I am patient and take baby steps, I will keep gaining the skills and won’t hit any walls. I should be happy that I’ve only been knitting for 3-4 months and am this far, I just need to be patient and when I have been knitting for 3-4 years I will be making sweaters and knitting organically.