Schrodinger's Kittie

So, I’m sure a lot of you figure I’ve totally given up on knitting. That isn’t the case, though it has been very slow.

I finished up the seed block blanket I was working on and gave it to Mike. No photo of the finished project. I’ll try to get one the next time I’m down on Liberty. He absolutely loved the blanket. It’s the perfect size for traveling on the bus or just curling up under. I certainly wouldn’t use it as a afghan; but, it suits the purpose for which it was created. That purpose being a small blanket for tossing over your lap or used while traveling. It’s big enough to cover you in a bus/airplane/car seat without being obnoxious.

There are currently two projects in the works. One is a baby blanket for Paco’s latest addition. I’ve been designing/working on it for forever, it seems – and, it’s slowly coming to a finish. I figure by the time the newborn is a toddler, I should have it finished. Here’s hoping it actually lays flat when I finish – I’m working from the outside in, which is always a challenge. For some reason working outside in has more issues with laying flat than working from the center out.

I had to order more yarn.  I had no idea I’d burn through so much!  I get a feeling this blanket is going to be a lot larger than I anticipated.  Not a problem in the least – but, when you figure I’m working on US 3 / 3.25 mm size needles…well, it does take a bit of time to finish a project.  Especially when you get a bit bored by the repetitive nature of the pattern.  I do enjoy how it is turning out, mistakes and all.  The people receiving it will love it no matter what it looks like; but, it’s nice to be happy with something you are designing and creating yourself.

As there is so much of just a single stitch (knit, knit, knit, knit…yeah), the project can get a bit tedious at times, so I am also working on a pair of twisted rib socks for myself.  They are being knit on a pair of US 1/ 2.25mm needles.  I lost the band to the yarn so I’m not sure exactly what it’s called, though I know it’s a German import.  I love it…except that it splits like crazy!  Ah well, c’est la vie.  I like how it feels knit up; and, will enjoy wearing them after I’m done…and, it serves its purpose of giving me a break from the incessant knit stitch from the baby blanket.

We went out dancing at Swallow’s Inn, last night.  I’d forgotten how much I love that dance floor.  It’s tiny, but a pure joy to dance on.  Mike and I were receiving all sorts of compliments from people.  It was a little disconcerting; but, I do have to admit it’s nice to have your ego stroked like that, sometimes.  I always enjoy listening to the Honky Tonk Kings.  They are a good band that understands the difference between good listening music and good dancing music.  I wish more bands could figure that out.  They had a good number of people up from San Diego to support them, which I thought was wonderful.  Ken even showed up – which was a surprise.  For some reason, I’d believed he wasn’t going to be there.  I always enjoy getting to dance with him.

As for the Honky Tonk Kings…they will always have a special place in my mind/memories.  I originally met them when they played at Swallow’s Inn in August.  They were the group that wound up causing me to start making the drive south to San Diego and the Renegade every weekend. Which is where/how I met Mike.  Lot to be thankful for, there. Amusing that the guy who the first thing I noticed was that he was in my way has wound up being such an intrinsic part of my life.  Isn’t it interesting how life takes its various twists and turns to get you someplace you had no idea you needed/wanted to be?

Speaking of said fellow…I think it’s time I grabbed my knitting and went and curled up with him for a while to watch one of our favorite shows, “How It’s Made“.  And, if it strikes his fancy, maybe I’ll make a London broil with Yorkshire pudding and English peas (or green beans) for dinner.

…welcome to the world of auto-draft-saving…and Kittie (that’s me) actually looking at the drafts folder. Thus, in all its glory – welcome to the post I thought lost, the other day….

Well, last night was …not the best night at the dancehall.

For those of you who do not know, my sole purpose for going out is to dance.  I don’t drink much at all and I’m not out to hook up with anyone.  I love to flirt – social flirtation has sadly been lost for the most part.  It used to be one of the finest social artforms.  And, it’s a real shame, actually.  Flirtation makes people feel better about themselves; and, it’s one reason I will flirt with anyone.  And, yes, I mean anyone.  So long as I can tell they are not taking me seriously.  Maybe social flirtation is a Southern thing?  I don’t know where I picked it up.  But, seeing someone who is turned in on themselves and seeming very closed off and down…it prods me to do something to change it.  Inject a little, light, social flirtation – and, you’d be amazed at the transformation that occurs.  A simple smile – a real one, not a faked or smart alec one – can lift someone’s spirits.  A laugh brings a little light to their eyes.  And, you see them slowly start to straighten up.  Their bearing and posture improving and their eyes losing some of the shadows and the tension lines on their face easing…and, it just makes you feel good.

I am always very clear with my dance partners that I am not there to play the “hook up” game.  I’m there simply for the joy of dancing.  The friends I am making and the enjoyment from them is a nice bonus.

So, imagine my surprise when I found out last night that half the club thinks that Ken and I are a couple.  I was floored.  Neither of us has remotely indicated we were.  We never arrive together.  We never leave together.  I dance with him regularly – however, I dance with Charlie, Dan, Mike, Mike, Mike ((**snickers** yes, three Mike’s)), Lawrence, Steve, and pretty much anyone who asks so long as it’s not a 10 step.  I rarely, rarely turn someone down to dance.  Even brand spanking new dancers get my agreement.  How else are they to learn if they never get to dance?  We all start someplace, eh?  So long as the guy isn’t falling down, stupid drunk and can keep his hands where they belong, I’ll dance with him.  I have been known to walk off a dance floor because a partner was … inappropriate.

So, anyway…last night at the club sucked.  It was crammed to overflowing, and I do not handle crowds well at all.  Not even remotely.  Worst case = full blown panic attack.  Do you realize it’s been nearly a decade since I’ve been in an actual mall?  I don’t go to concerts.  When I go to the movies, I put something in the chair beside me to keep someone from sitting in it.  And consistently being bumped into when I don’t take up that much space and there’s no call for it starts getting my dander up lickety split.  So, last night, I was just a hair shy of having a serious come apart.  I was being slammed into consistently – realize…I’m sitting on the inside edge of a barstool and still being hit by this woman’s flailing elbows and hands.  And, not a single apology or acknowledgment that she is in anyway infringing on my space – much less beating me.  One more hit and I was going to let fly.  The fellow to my left saw the glint in my eye as the woman’s elbow started to come back to impact with my body once again; and, thanks to him she did not wind up kissing floor.  He intercepted her elbow and informed her that if she wanted to remain in one piece she would be wise to relocate.  He didn’t word it quite like that – but, it wasn’t far off.  I couldn’t even get off the stool for a good period of time because people were so packed around me.  Realize – this is not remotely typical for a night at the Renegade.

Add in the fact that only Ken was there of my regular dance partners – which means I was doing a lot of sitting and not consistently dancing…and, well, it wasn’t a grand night of dancing.  However…I did make a few new friends and added a dance partner to my roster.  These are good things.  The fellow at the end of the bar’s name was Joe (he’s in the background of the photo below) and he has an interesting life story to share.  The other was a fellow named Bob.  I’ve watched him dance for the last few months, but we’ve both always been so busy dancing that we haven’t gotten to dance together.  He got me out on the floor last night and it was a surprising joy to dance with him.  Most men who lead like he does, I just flat out cannot follow.  He’s got a ballroom style lead.  However, he managed to telegraph just the right amount of information.  Only had one or two mis-steps the whole time we danced.  While I enjoy dancing, I’m generally not comfortable with a lot of leads out there.

There was more, I was feeling quite wordy – but, I’m sure your eyes are thanking the cyber-pogs that the rest got lost and I can’t recall exactly what it was I was saying…Though the night ended well when I came home, and contrary to the norm logged in to check my email. Had a nice, unexpected chat with a friend and went to bed in quite a fine mood.

Uh yeah. My mind is not quite functional. As a side note of no particular importance – I dislike both sardines and beer. However, most Thursday nights the dance floor at Broken Spoke is packed tight enough to make sardines feel right at home – and the beer is pouring freely. Well, not free…but…anyway.

I had a blast, last night. I actually got asked to dance by several people I’d not met before. And a few I had. D and R were there and that always makes my night. Poor D…as soon as he walked in (it was in the middle of a waltz – my favorite dance) I walked up, grabbed him and had him on the floor. No by your leave, no nothing. It took me a minute to figure out what felt wrong – then I realized it was the first time I’d ever gotten the very first dance with him – his shirt was dry. That amused me.

I actually had the most fun at the Broken Spoke that I have ever had. And, I nearly didn’t go. Go figure. I was at home and had been on a cleaning binge determined to get my floors clean – we will not discuss how three tiny dogs manage to make that big a mess. I swear they are toddlers in disguise. And, while I adore my landlord to no end (I actually really do – he’s one of the nicest guys on the planet)…I am often tempted to beat him for having light coloured tile installed. Admittedly, it makes the place look better than a darker tile would have – but, I no sooner get it clean than it looks filthy again. It’s disheartening. Anyway, I had swept, swiffered and mopped all except the storage room/office (yeah, that one’s getting ignored until I have like a full week to devote to emptying that place out and getting rid of stuff that really needs to go).

I cleaned off the patio and the kitchen and all that good stuff – this means I was moving furniture and sweeping ceilings and corners, etc. The problem with me starting to clean is it’s very hard to stop until the whole place has been overhauled. Generally, this means I clean on the weekends. However, when I went home last night I just couldn’t take my floors anymore and started scrubbing. By 7:30pm I had flopped on the couch to eat a quick meal…I eyeballed my knitting and picked it up and got about two rows done. All the while thinking, “I really should get ready to go out.”

I seriously debated the thought for a while. Then decided I’d take a quick shower and see how I felt. After the shower I felt almost human again and decided to go ahead and head out – but, I wasn’t going to put a whole lot of effort into it.

This strengthens my belief that if I want to get asked to dance, I need to just not put any effort into looking good. I didn’t do anything to my hair, I had nominal makeup on and I was in a ratty, old tank top and jeans. My only concession to going out was the makeup. Yeah, the guys at work have gotten used to the fact that I generally don’t wear the stuff.

It was a lot of fun. I’m getting better and better about dodging incoming elbows and feet – though, it winds up putting me through some contortions and unexpected footwork that has R laughing heartily from time to time. I’m getting to where the crowd on the floor doesn’t make me tense up and want to run screaming from the building. Instead, I’m starting to be able to view it as a dynamic obstacle course – and viewing it as a challenge to make it through a dance without hitting or being hit by anyone on the floor.