Tink Flak

So I meet this cop, W. My boy and goddaughter are talking to the lady he's with, so he's free to look me up and down. He had me pegged pretty well, apparently.

"Soooo. Pink and purple, eh?" W. says to me. He nods at me, and gives a little smirk.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Your lanyards. They're pink and purple." Smirk.

"Sure. Pink. Purple. They're for all the Tink pins." And later, after 10 hours around my neck, they will be HEAVY.

"Hmm-mm." He smirked even more. Didn't his mom tell him his face could freeze that way? "Are you holding them pins for someone?"

"Nope. These are all mine. I've got more back in the hotel."

"Hmm-mm." Still smirking.

"She's my favorite character." But, being a Disney cop, he already knew that. It's the first thing they train you to do at Disney Police Academy: to discover a person's favorite Disney character just by reading their body language, eye movements, and t-shirts.

"Hmm-mm." he said smirkishly.

"I finally got to meet her after all these years! A couple hours ago."

"Hmm-mm." he said smirkably.

Maybe I should have changed the subject to my sock knitting. THAT would have wiped the smirk off his face.

Bonus Fairies

Here I am standing next to some more fairies. Rosetta in pink, and Iridessa in yellow. Can you tell, when these pictures were taken, I hadn't gotten to meet Tink yet? I mean, Iridessa was so incredibly delightful and de-lovely, and talked up a storm, and Rosetta was charming and graceful, but I'm all about Tink.

Have I mention I am totally bonkers for Tinker Bell? Kinda hard to pick that up about me.

TINK TINK TINK TINK

First time in Disney history, Tink was doing a meet and greet!

It wasn't advertised. You wouldn't have been able to see it on the Disney World daily schedule when you got to the park. No signs pointing the way. Just a simple "Disney Characters" sign outside. My wife had gotten an email mentioning very little about it.

We ended up being about the 7th family in line, waited quite a bit, BUT IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT.

Disney shrunk all of us down and we went into Pixie Hollow. Here I am FINALLY standing next to my very favorite Disney character of all time!

Tink made me feel as young as this little guy next to his favorite fairy, Rosetta:

Later in the day, after word got out, we heard it was about a 4-hour wait to see Tink and her friends.

Say, did you happen to see all the "Lost Things," as the fairies call them, around my neck. Everyone of them is a Tink pin. I was the envy of more than one teen-aged girl. Oh, and I was NOT the only dad out there who liked Tink the best! I met another standing in line for ice cream.

And, yes, we watched the new Tinker Bell movie tonight! I'm still trying to work out the movie's theme. If you've seen it, maybe you can help me. Is it 1) Stick with what you're good at, don't bother trying anything new, or 2) Pulling an all-nighter will make-up for months of work down the tubes. Maybe I should watch it again.

Kid talk 2

"Daddy, why is that woman wearing a Band-aid on her face?"

"I have no idea."

"Maybe she just wants to look more cooler."

***

A six-year-old girl playing Pictionary with her Minnesotan family (friends of us, down here in Florida) had to draw the word "knitting." She drew me.

Yarn Harlot

She was hilarious. She was poignant. Piquant? Hmmm. I need thesaurus.com. Heck, I need to do some sit-ups (see above).

Anyway, I didn't have anything on my needles to knit for the shindig (seemed a knitting-sin not to), so I grabbed some Cascade 220 Superwash, and some straight number 3s. After I ripped-out the few rows I did at lunch, I started again on my cables. I made a flipping mess, but I learned:

1) I should have drew my very own cable pattern out using pattern symbols on paper first,
2) it sucked when I forced myself to make a cable where 1/2 my brain said it should be, and
3) I had more fun just playing with my impromptu knit/purl pattern.

Which is when I finally got over with my little satori and set my needles down.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is a fantastic public speaker, in addition to being an author and knitter. She had me laughing so hard, I almost had an asthma attack. Informative, enlightening, and empowering. (So what if my wife doesn't quite understand why I keep knitting socks?)

And, I didn't know Toronto worshiped skunks! Geez, all the homeowners (i.e., Mr. & Mrs. Pearl-McPhee) have to go through to get rid of a skunk in Toronto! It makes you wonder if Toronto has a skunk temple like the famous rat temple in India. Y'know there'll come a day when Toronto will have to kill the skunks, or the humans will have to flee the city like some sci-fi B movie.

Anyway, buy her book. Read it. Laugh. And, knit something!

TMI

Okay. I saw the Yarn Harlot, but before I try to find my camera to download the pic, (I got to my room that night, dropped my bags, and just about passed out, before I realized I had to do a load of laundry at 12:30 am.) and post about it, I need to clear up something:

1. I'm a social misfit.

I got to spend some time with some really cool people. And, I met a very nice young lady, S. S mentioned she had this fear (I'm not going to mention it.) But, I think I reacted like I thought she was insane. AH! No, no, no! In fact, I wanted to compare seemingly irrational fears. So, S, if you're out there, this post is for you.

2. Every headache I get surely means I'm about to have a cerebral aneurysm.

Then, if I manage to get the headache to go away with acupressure, caffeine, or pills, I remember:

3. I know I'll die by getting hit by a bus.

So, I look both ways, usually twice, before crossing the street. I hate to jaywalk or cross against the lights.

4. I'm a major goopaphobe.

Coined by my wife, as a goopaphobe I don't like sticky fingers, my boy to wipe his nose on my arm, or guacamole on my elbow. I used to get a peeved face. I just stop what I'm doing and reach for the paper towels. Now, that doesn't mean I don't like my wife's guacamole, or my boy's nose. I'll weed the garden, or unplug a drain, but I'll de-goop as soon as I can.

5. I don't like to eat in front of strangers.

Geez. All sorts of neurosis there. I have trouble eating at buffets, 'cause I feel like all the humans (including me) are at the feed station of some barn, and all the eating and grunting noises are magnified in my head, seeing all the people hunched over, shoveling all-they-can-eat deep-fried everything into their maws, fattening up for the county fair...

...and, that's how I feel when I eat in front of strangers. I mean, which one is the nacho fork? Do I chug my Guinness too fast? What if a string of cheese gets caught in my goatee and no one tells me? What if I absent-mindedly wipe my goopy hands on my pants? My neighbor's skirt? Did I just talk with my mouth full? Laugh with my mouth full? I my mouth ever NOT full? I feel like a pig when eating in front of strangers. Which, of course, leads back to:

1. I'm a social misfit.

I don't know the polite topics, I cannot talk about football, and I feel dorky when I mention the weather we're having. I can't segue between topics without feeling I ran over a speed bump. If I say anything, I'm sure I offended someone. I feel like I'm leering when I smile, and when I look people in the eye, I feel like I see pieces of their souls, so I try hard not to stare, so I lower my eyes, which can be a problem if you're a guy talking to a lady, then I worry I look gawky and desperate -- for absolutely no reason-- and maybe I should just stay home and knit. I don't know how to say good-bye. And, when this all floods my brain...

6. I chant.

I chant, "I love my wife I love my wife I love my wife," under my breath. Now, true, I DO love my wife. That's not why I chant it. The reason I chant it is because I feel like I've done something incredibly dumb, and crude. I know no matter how stupid the incident, yet, incredibly, my wife still loves me. And, that's why I chant it.

So, S, see? I don't think you're crazy at all. Just crazy enough.

HEY! Hockey's on. Gotta motor.

Nothing doing!

Shoot! I'm going to meet the Yarn Harlot tomorrow, and I don't have anything on my needles right now! I better get going on my gauge swatch!

AAAAAUGH!!

Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust

I've heard candidates for President say they wish they had a magic wand that could fix all the nation's ills.

Why not vote for a candidate that DOES have a magic wand?

VOTE TINK 2008!

Even Tink's campaign slogan captures the hearts and souls of both sides of the aisle:

Faith (Conservative Right-wing tells us is needed), Trust (Liberal Left-wing tells us is needed), and Pixie Dust (what we are telling ourselves is needed).

Yep! Lost your house through foreclosure? Got laid-off? Can't get a student loan? Family torn apart by a stagnate, unpopular war? Well, there's really nothing to it! All you need is a little faith, and trust. And... Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. A little pinch of Pixie Dust!

Get out there and vote! Make it count! It's time for a real change! Send a message to Washington! Vote Tink!

A Nose for Art

My wife had to work from home today, so I needed to take my boy out and give her some peace.

My friend K.C. and her daughter took us downtown to the Jacksonville Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA). And, I had a freaking blast!

There were these ultra realistic resin cast sculptures of humans by Marc Sijan. Very cool. The guy knows how to paint skin tone. Though, I don't recall any but caucasian sculptures in this installation. Seriously, some pretty awesome work. The detail in the ballerina's toes with calluses. The slightly sun burnt skin of the overweight bald man in swim trunks (Standing Man). I loved the one called Hands on Shoulder (though the figure had one hand on her foot. Must be a zen thing. Or, a misprinted tag.) It was almost a classical or yoga pose, and I was trying to figure which muscle groups were flexed, and which were relaxed, and if the sculpture really reflected that. It was a pensive pose, yet so relaxed and inviting. I mean you have to really look closely to find any thing off about the sculptures.
KC took the kids, and let me wander through. I had finished studying the full figure of the big guy in swim trunks, when a family passed me toward him. I stood at the balerina and listened to the family mock his appearance, and the dad pulled out a slim, red camera. He took two steps back, and snapped the big guy's photo. At the count of two, a security guard swooped out from no where, and marched straight to the dad saying, "I thought I told you to stop taking pictures!" Whoa! He had to delete the pix, or get his camera confiscated.

I went up to the fifth floor to meet KC and the kids. They were making sculptures out of aluminum wire and Model Magic. Her kid made hearts, mine made two alien heads, and a loop-de-loop. I made a few different noses. I like noses.

Then we had lunch at the library next door, went to the library where I didn't find the book that I was looking for, but found two others. My boy got a kids book on Neil Armstrong.

Fabulous time. I want to get some Crayola Model Magic and spend next weekend making noses.

Next Saturday is Art in the Parks! Downtown. I hope I've got nothing else planned.

You are what you read?

Well, I've let my subscriptions to Vogue, Elle, and Bazaar lapse. BUT: When is my next issue of Interweave Knits going to show up in my mailbox?

My wife's first issue of Playboy should be arriving soon, too.

Hmm. There seems to be a crossed wire somewhere.

***

Magazines sitting on my toilet tank right now:

Self, 10/08
Glamour, 10/08
Vogue Knitting, Fall 2007
Disney Files, Fall 2008
and a DK book: Watch Me Grow: Panda

Void, where uninhibited

So, there's this meditation on the body, and focusing on not only breathing, but the blood, and such, and then watching the rise and fall of thoughts, and-- oh, screw it.

Look at the cute skull I drew! It'd make a terrific temporary tattoo for my boy.

Best work all day.

Droodle me this.

I've always liked optical illusions.

I've liked this one with the visible gray dots that aren't really there. I stared at these for hours as a kid.


Here's a whole page of them.

But the best optical illusions were the ones I could tell were screwing with my brain, not just the various weaknesses of the human eye.

Droodles. They've been around a very long time. I've since lost my copies of the little books. I used to carry them to school, study them during lunch, make up my own answers. I'll be getting the new copies very soon and showing them to my kid.

My favorite ones were the ones with multiple answers. My favorite (Watch your brain, now.) :


I think the official caption is:

An Olive Sticking Out Its Pimento.
Or, A Tennis Racket Needing to be Restrung.
Oh, and A Hairbrush for a Bald Man.

And, then turn it this way:

An Egg with a Mohawk.

And, turn it this way:

A Nickel Jumps the Third Rail.
or, A Beheaded Cotton Swab

Hmmm. This is turning a little dark. Maybe I can make a little adjustment:

Jiffy the High Diving Horse's View of the Swimming Pool.
Or, A French Fry Hula-hooping.

Anyway, time for the point.

I love the trick the Droodles play on my brain. It all happens in my brain!

How well do you know the people you meet? Isn't there just the finest of fine lines between what is an aquaintance, and what is a friend? How much time? How many hugs? Is "A stranger just a friend you haven't met"? Where is the line YOU draw between friend and enemy? Does it switch back from enemy to friend? How much of it is in your head?

What if, just, what if you could look at people like they were a Droodle? Let go of who they are in your head, and watch it change in your head moment by moment.

Get back to me on this, will you?

Just keep buying!

So, America is broker than broke. Most American's are up to their Versace sunglasses in debt. There is apparently no liquidity to be found anywhere in the markets. (Does that include the Off and On Liquor Market down the street? They've been getting some business this past two weeks.)

What is a good little consumer to do?

Shop away your troubles!

How about hitting a mall, getting some new clothes, new hair, a tan, bleached teeth, new contacts, then hitting a dance club, down a few brewskis, build another chair, design a shirt, then hit a coffee shop and chat up some neo-luddite philosophy with some folks dressed as merpeople before working on your nose job, all FREE-- then click off your computer, and go to bed feeling like you partied like you were 21 again-- only there was something missing. Like, an honest heartbeat.

That's SecondLife.com. It's fun! It feels real enough! and instead of buyer's remorse, I get the "I'll never get that 8-hours of my life back" feeling. Of course, to solve THAT wasted feeling, just log back on to Second Life, and surf a big virtual wave on Weather Island. Heck, there's even a knit club there-- which leads me to:

To all my knitter friends out there, I look very much forward to seeing y'all every week, and making something tangible.