Niiiice

Pneumonia, with a side of costochondritis - probably because of all the coughing.

The timing sucks - I have too much to do!

Ick.

 

24 hour birthday

Today is Last Day to File Your Income Tax Day, also known around these parts as my birthday! So in honor of said birthday, I decided to stay up an entire 24 hours. Just to see if I could, and also to better savor the birthday feeling.

12:01 a.m. Birfday! Birfday! Another year older (ugh), though not necessarily wiser. Eat ice cream to celebrate.

12:45 a.m. Wow, you can watch Law and Order marathons at all hours of the night.

1:15 a.m. Get call from my dad (Chinese in italics)

Dad: Hellooo? Helloooo?
Me: Pa? Is that you?
Dad: YES! This is your FATHER! Happy birthday!
Me: Thank you. You remembered. (My dad is notorious for forgetting my birthday.)
Dad: Yes, I had our secretary remind me this year. Are you having a good lunch? Did you get yourself something good for your birthday meal?
Me: Pa, it’s 1 in the morning here.
Dad: Oh, I thought it was 1 in the afternoon. Because it’s lunchtime here at the office.
Me: Pa, there’s a 12 hour difference. 1 in the afternoon there is 1 in the morning here. (My dad lives halfway around the world; I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told him that)
Dad: Well then, have a good time at lunch…

4:00 a.m. Oh look, an Eff Oh (picture taken later during the day)

Pattern: Koolhaas, by Jared Flood, from IK Holiday Gifts ‘07
Yarn: Debbie Bliss Pure Cashmere #10 (Orange), 3 skeins. Size 6 and 8 Denise interchangeables, and size 8 Inox DPN’s

I love the hat! I love the pattern. I wish I could say the same about the yarn. I mean, it’s cashmere, and I like it OK, but I wasn’t impressed by the yarn. First, there’s only about 49 yards per skein, and to me it didn’t feel any softer than baby cashmerino. Maybe I was expecting too much, but cashmere! I have to say though that the cables really pop with this yarn.

I CO 96 stitches instead of the called for 104, and made 5 repeats of the pattern because I wanted the hat to cover my ears. There are a few boneheaded mistakes, but they’re near the top of the hat, and I was too lazy to rip back. I did run out of yarn at the very top, but couldn’t justify buying another skein of the DB, so I used leftover orange Lamb’s Pride worsted - you can kind of see it in the picture. I like it - it looks like the hat has a bright(er) orange dot on top.

 

Detroit interlude

Last week, while hanging out with Nana in Detroit -

Me: May I drive the car for you, Nana?

Nana: No, you’re not familiar with my car.

Me: I know how to drive, Nana.

Nana: You really should practice driving in the parking lot first.

 

casting on

A little less than three years ago, I was at a conference in Chicago. I happened to be staying with my friends Andrea and Jim. I knew that Andrea knitted, because I had seen samples of her amazing skill. At that time though, knitting was pretty much a foreign word. I didn’t consider myself to be particularly crafty nor creative, and knitting seemed to be one of those things crafty and creative folks did. Besides, I prided myself on my being uncoordinated.

However, I didn’t count on being bored out of my skull at this conference.

So, I convinced Andrea to teach me to knit. She very patiently taught me to knit on some bright yellow acrylic yarn and a pair of mismatched #8 straights. She guided me through many false starts, and admired my first hole-y swatch. And then the next day, we trooped over to the local book place and got a copy of Stitch and Bitch. I came back home, convinced that I had forgotten how to knit. I cracked open my copy of Stitch and Bitch, and was pleasantly surprised that my brain remembered how to make stitches. I took that as a sign that I should look more into this knitting thing.

To Andrea, who showed me how two sticks and some yarn could bring so much fun, happy birthday!

 

super quickie

Popping in to say hi and to thank y’all for your kind words and wishes.

Still here in Manila. The trip back was a butt numbing 27 hours. Internet access has been sporadic because my dad’s place is a technological wasteland. This is after all, the very same dad who refuses to learn how to use email and still prides himself on owning a working rotary phone. I have taken to hanging out at the local Burger King when I can for the wifi access. Hee.

Angkong was laid to rest this past week. During the wake, I discovered many awesome things about him. Like how he used to be hotshot basketball player, and how he was an apprentice Chinese medicine herbalist. The wake was a rather long one, because even in things like death, there is feng shui to be considered. And Buddhist rituals to be performed. Some of which made us seem like crockpots to the untrained eye (and ear). Like the non-stop chanting and the paper house and airplane. Details will have to wait until later, I’m afraid.

Most common things said to me so far - (Chinese in italics, as usual) -
“My, you look fat!”
“You’re a PT? I’ve got a pain right here! What do you think it is?”
“I’m surprised you still know how to speak Chinese! I thought maybe you’d become an American idiot!?”

It’s been good to see the fam and catch up with old friends though. It feels like everything has changed and nothing has changed.

 

bittersweet

My Angkong (grandfather) passed away the other day. I’m flying back to Manila tomorrow morning - the soonest I could wrap up work odds and ends. He was the only grandparent I had left. He tolerated all of my quirks and sarcasm with an affectionate shrug when everyone else in the family were raising their collective eyebrows. When I was younger, we spent many happy hours watching basketball on TV, screaming at the referees for real and imagined bad calls. I will miss him so much. I’d already planned to spend the holidays in Manila anyway (where many members of my itinerant family still live), but this homecoming will be bittersweet.

 

drive

Growing up, our family didn’t get a car until I was in high school. Needless to say, it was a Big Deal. It also meant that my dad became the de-facto chauffeur for my formidable grandmother, who had lots of friends, and a rather hectic social life.

This story always gets dragged out during family occasions. A bit of background: most everyone in my family looks distinctly East Asian - you know, almond-shaped eyes, flat nose, fairish skin. My dad doesn’t. And he tends to dress very casually. As always, Chinese is in italics.

Grandma, her friend Say-ah, and Dad are in the car. My dad is driving them to the temple.

Grandma: Don’t forget to pick up those herbal packets from the drugstore in Chinatown today.
Dad: Do they know I’m coming to pick them up?
Grandma: Yes. I called them. Traffic is so bad! Drive carefully, don’t get too close to those other cars. We might get into an accident.
Say-ah: Guat Ngo (that’s my grandma), you’re SO lucky. Your children must love you very much.
Grandma: I would like to think they do.
Say-ah: They must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to find and hire a driver for you. They even found one who speaks really good Chinese! Where did they find him? (pointing to my Dad)
Grandma: Uhm…Actually, he’s my son-in-law.
Say-ah: <blink> And he’s an extremely good-looking son-in-law!

Happy birthday to the best-est son-in-law and Dad anyone can have!

 

thump

1. Sound made by head as it hits pillow from sheer exhaustion.

The past weekend was spent here -

Every year, my department participates in a few community projects. This semester’s first foray happened to be to a Habitat to Humanity work site. So a bunch of my students and co-workers hied off to be pseudo-tradespeople for a day. There was lots of hammering, clambering on top of rickety ladders, and hauling stuff. Power tools were used! Various appendages were banged up! Curse words were uttered! It was fun, but hard work. At the beginning of the work day, the house didn’t have any windows or doors cut out yet, nor did it have outside insulation put up. It was nice to see the house actually look like one at the end of the day. I think I’m gonna hang on to my day job for now though. At least until I can climb up a ladder without feeling butterflies in my stomach.

2. Sound idiot vandal’s foot makes as it comes into contact with my car roof.

Or at least that’s what the nice police officer told me happened today. I usually park on the street in front of my apartment building, along with many other tenants. Even though there’s fairly heavy car and pedestrian traffic, we’ve never had any problems with vandals before. At least until today. Apparently sometime this afternoon, some idiot decided to jump on the hood of my car, climb up on the roof, and then jump onto the next car on the street. I got a phone call from the police (which about gave me a heart attack) telling me I had a nice dent on my car.

 

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

 

oot and aboot

School has started, so posting might become a bit more sporadic while I madly try to finish writing up my lectures. Sigh. Why must procrastination be more appealing than being organized and responsible? I also blame school for significant decrease in knitting output.

I was recently in Halifax, Nova Scotia to pay my respects to the American Consulate. As a non-US citizen, I sometimes have to jump through many (paranoia-inducing!) hoops to please the good people at the USC1S, aka useless. Just kidding, USC1S!

A few observations (probably skewed) -