Five Six Pick Up Sticks

Four days ago, I started getting an unbearable urge to knit something. This came out of nowhere, after having knit nothing in months. About four months, if I remember correctly. I dug my knitting bag out of the closet where I'm storing all my craft stuff, and for the past few days I haven't put the needles down very much.

This afternoon, I even took a much-needed baby break, got Sibbie to watch Sukti, and retreated to our outdoor sitting area to knit one of my works in progress. It was so lovely, with the dragonflies whizzing by and the bees buzzing in the Japanese maples as I rested on my bench in the knitting zone, finishing an entire sleeve (albeit for a baby sweater) today.

I may even finish my Hogwarts scarf in this lifetime. I've added a whole 9 inches to it since this knitting craze descended upon me. I like this. I've been in a weird slump lately, and nothing has been enjoyable. I want the weather to keep cooling down so that I can retreat to the deck every morning with some knitting and watch Sukti play baby soccer.

A Separate Peace

I was preparing dinner - cheesy cauliflower bake and french fries - so Sibbie took Sukti outside to play. I am all alone, no screaming, no thuds reverberating as things are thrown against walls, no toddler dance music. Just the pleasant sound of towels drying in the dryer and dishes swishing in the wash.

And as quickly as that, they are back, covered in mud, screeching and tossing toys.

Snaka and Sauna

It all started pleasantly enough; after Sukti woke up, we cuddled and played on the bed and she pretended to be a bunny rabbit, hopping here and there and everywhere. I got dressed and loaded her into the car, having waved goodbye to Sibbie. He had stayed up all night writing code and drinking sodas, and absentmindedly waved goodbye in turn as he furiously typed comments on Reddit. He is still awake, and is basically insane, and only 10 hours of sleep can reverse the dementia.

Sukti and I picked up the babysitter and returned, and after having made my breakfast I set about my morning toilet. I looked out the window into the backyard and spied a long, slender black snake, how to put this, snaking its way across our property. A snake! I have enough to worry about without the concern of glistening black reptiles without legs (ungodly messes, snakes are) devouring my small child in the sanctum of our backyard. Trash company bills, what kind of waste basket to put in the downstairs bathroom, the impending visit of my mother and grandmother, a sick and convalescing ferret - these are important things, real things that make me wake up at 7 o'clock in the morning and go "holy shit, what am I going to do about that." Now all I can think about is that disgusting snake. If I wake up at 7 o'clock tomorrow thinking about a snake, I'm going to flip my business.

We went out into the yard later to check on the garden and I felt like the bastard was crawling on my feet. I didn't even know I was afraid of snakes.

I did a bit of snooping around the internet, and the offender seems to have been a black racer. I was thrilled and enchanted by the rich description of this breed:

Although racers will often aggressively defend themselves and will usually bite repeatedly if picked up, they do not chase people as is often claimed. When pursued, they often climb into bushes or trees to escape their would-be captor. Though they are fast for a snake, a person can easily outrun one on open ground.

I, for one, welcome the opportunity to be repeatedly bitten and mangled by one of our shiny, black, slithering overlords. I am certainly reassured now to know that these lightning fast snakes could in no way outrun my small, tottering daughter and will surely give her a head start as she flees for her life from the prospect of their gaping, viscous maws and rancorous fangs of destruction.

I spent half an hour trying to capture a gigantic cricket that had mosied into my living room under the cover of darkness. I failed miserably, unwilling to smash the beast or harm it, instead circling it at a safe distance of approximately 3 meters as it skittered underneath the coffee table and wondering if the melamine bowl in my hand could be neatly thrown onto its rim directly over the cricket from such a conservative reach. Later, Sukti brought me a cockroach and a cheerio, and proclaimed "Bug. Bug! Ceeee." Thank you. My daily quota of crawling and sliding monstrosities and whole grain cereals has now been met.

If you are considering relocating to North Carolina's wilderness, bring a fly swatter and a snake bite kit, some ice water and a fan. And a healthy appreciation for ever insect ever on earth. Because they're all here, and they're totally looking forward to hanging out with you while you chill in your sitting room at night. And it's 95 fucking degrees about 80% of the time. That's what the ice water is for. The fan is for blowing the bugs away from your face. Trust me. Essential.

Bennigan's, Farewell

Thanks for all the memories, Bennigan's. They closed all of their restaurants today. For good? I hope not. I have so many fond remembrances of that place. Like burning my mouth on broccoli bites, trying (and failing) to eat a Monte Cristo, and generally sitting around drinking Guinness and having fun.

The Aurora in Iceland

Speaking of Iceland, these are pictures of the aurora borealis over the coastline in Iceland. I really love the third one, and the seventh from the bottom.

Icelandic Aurora

Ba Ba

I downloaded Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do, by Sigur Ros, in 2003 when I worked at a call center. It was a big warehouse in Hunt Valley Maryland, and we did outsourced support for Apple. I particularly enjoyed snuggling in at my desk during breaks (especially during the winter) and downloading music from the farthest-flung corners of the globe. A sensation of distance from one's present location and self can most easily be achieved, for me, by finding musical representations of others, other places, other times. Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do and Sigur Ros's other albums allowed me to close my eyes and neatly go elsewhere, and my lunch breaks were magical escapades in fabled Icelandic steppes. What adventures I had, and how I loved those days of the perfect music-fueled daydreams.

I found Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do on my iPod today, and I can feel Iceland now, her crystalline pin-prick air and dark skies and secret smiling people. Even in my North Carolina house on a hot and bright July day, my daughter and I can frolic in a foreign world.

Scratch

You're not a real blogger if you haven't lost all your posts. Is that true? We inadvertently canceled our account with our web hosting company, and all content from thechristine.com between April '07 and now has been whooshed into some nook or cranny in the series of tubes. I guess starting over isn't half as bad as most things in life.