Kiss My Knits!

So my little naked 6 year old daughter had scampered out of her bedroom to use the bathroom “one more time” (which means there’ll be at least three more times tonight, the little staller). The doorbell rang just as I was sending her back to her room, and she scampered back out and was running around the house. With the doorbell, no time to grab her, so she gets to streak a little longer. I opened the door. A 20-something year old black man wearing a tie and jeans was on the front porch. Yes, his race is relevant, as you’ll see momentarily.

We’re both smiling through this entire exchange. Every word.
ME: “Hi, can I help you?”
HIM: “Hi, ma’am, I’m in the neighborhood, just trying to earn a few points for my school.”
(Now, I don’t do anything or give anything to anybody who shows up on my doorstep. It’s just too risky, you have no way of tracing anything, and frankly I don’t like giving out personal info about myself to stranger on the street.)
ME: “I don’t really know what that involves, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to help you, I’m sorry.”
HIM, still smiling: “That’s okay, ma’am, I apologize for being black.”

And then he turns around and walks down the walk.

ME, to his retreating back: “EXCUSE ME???”

He keeps walking.

Me, normal voice: “How rude.”

And I closed the door.

Holy moly, I was mad! And the thing is, I know I shouldn’t have been. I know he wanted something he didn’t get, and so he thought he’d insult me, maybe out of frustration. I know the inference was completely wrong, and I never saw him before and never will again. That kind of insult from a total stranger usually rolls right off my back, since I know they don’t know jack about me and so it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why it got under my skin, but I’m still somewhat pissed off at this guy.

I shouldn’t have been. But grr. Just to fire a blindside like that and then walk away. Cowardly. Didn’t give me a chance, and I expect that was the point.

Yeah, that advanced race relations by light years. Way to go, fella.

‘Scuse me, me and Whitey gotta go find some brothers and keep ’em down.

So a guy on http://www.booksforsoldiers.com who is stationed in a very dangerous place posted, saying that a guy in his unit had gotten some Magic: the Gathering cards from his brother. Apparently, now more than 20 of the guys are learning how to play and are hooked, and so this fella posted a request for Magic: the Gathering cards, as you can’t really run down to the comic book store in Iraq and grab a deck.

I don’t have any Magic cards, as no WAY was I ever going to get hooked on Crack for Gamers, but I did put out a request on Freecycle, explaining the situation and asking if anybody had any old cards lying around.

One girl at a nearby college sent me e-mail saying she had sent word around to her buddies, and they now had 625 cards for me to pick up and send. Very, very generous of them! I’m calling her a little later to arrange a rendezvous.

I wanted to send her a small snippet of the post the guy had written in which he asked, without any identifying info or troop numbers or anything, so she would see how much it was appreciated.

Lo and behold, my booksforsoldiers inbox was empty. Going to the main message boards, there was a header saying “We’ve been hacked again. Thank you for your patience while we get up and running.”

Who the HELL would hack this site? I mean, c’mon! It’s not to the political left, it’s not to the political right, it’s individuals helping individuals. It’s a worthy cause. I am stunned at the jackassery of it.

College girl rounding up 625 Magic cards for a guy she’s never even been in contact with: good.
Asshole hacking booksforsoldiers.com: bad.

Grrrrrr…

This would look so beautiful across the top of my piano. The piano itself is a little spinet our family got second hand, its last place of residence being a jazz dive called “The Jungle Club” 40 years ago. My parents were friends with the owner, who lived across the street from us. They were a great couple of beatniks.

I was showing my husband how to take apart a piano about ten years ago, and opened up the bottom. There was a dessicated joint held between the strings, all eaten except for the paper. I guess it had been left there by someone who wanted a secret stash, but then forgot about it. Darned short-term memory loss. I assume it was from the club and not from my dad – at least, that’s what I choose to believe. There are cigarette burns on the top. There’s an oddly mildewed patch on the lower left. I don’t care, it’s the piano I had when I as a kid, and maybe the F sharp sticks a little, but it got me through practicing for competitions in high school, and I love it.

One day, maybe I’ll have time to make something to grace the top.

Ze missing hat, she eez found.

Ze first batch of 10 hats, zey are mailed.

Ze balance of what I am owed on ze 20 hats, she has arrived in my PayPal account.

So, in spite of a major, dispiriting autistic-related freakout at the toy store yesterday, life, she eez better today.

Hats completed: 14.8.

I am MISSING a Jayne hat. I have no clue where it went. Neither does anyone else in this house, that I can tell.

Also, my 10 1/2″ circular needles broke. So now I’m down a hat, and short the tools I need to create new ones.

ARRRGGGGHHH!!!

Look what Isa got me!

Wooooooooo! It’s so pretty! I can’t decide what to do with it. There’s enough for a felted project, or for a hat or a scarf… I’m torn! I may just keep rubbing it up against my cheek for a while. My preciousssss….

The girl insisted on three braids today. I think we’re drifting dangerously close to “Snoop Dogg” territory.

It was a productive long weekend! Not as productive as I thought it’d be, since I wound up having to drive instead of the hubby, and he has this wacky insistence on me not knitting while I drive. Sheesh.

How I spent my Independence Day weekend.

http://winterson.com/2005/06/episode-iii-backstroke-of-west.html

Probably everybody already knows about iharthdarth and the hilarity associated therewith, but I feel I must share it anyway.