When I Go Back to the Calculations

Where did I go wrong? Here we have less than half of the Gold Fusion/Marigold complete and yet, no more yarn. I'm less than halfway done with the Sulfur/Chartreuse flowers and more than halfway finished with that yarn. It seems like the Yellow I'm only going to use one of the 2 skeins. So, what's the issue?

Starting on the repeat

I recalculated. My numbers are correct. Funny enough, it's the sketchier Hobbii brand that I computed correctly. This leads me to believe that the Cascade brand is not 220 yards as advertised. 

I am also having serious customer service issues with Yarnspirations.com and their poorly labeled hooks. They are either hiring only the mentally challenged or they are evil geniuses that determined that a service outlook founded on leading the consumer on a ridiculous goose chase is more cost effective than fixing the problem. So, I will make sure that I tell the vendor to cease selling their goods.

Yarn and conspiracy theories. The more logical explanation is that companies decided to dupe the consumer because they can. Well, no more from me.

In any case, I am thinking my rug looks more runner-like than I'd like. Stupid canvas manufacturer never learned the golden ratio. So, in order to full it out and use up the extra yarn, how about a width-increasing border of pompoms? Because, the only thing more impractical than a white rug would be the addition of vacuum clogging pompoms. So, on the one hand, the mock up looks festive, but on the other, does it clutter up the modern, clean lines of the Marimekko design, or did I take care of that already with my insane color scheme? I will probably make the pompoms and if they look funny on the rug, I'll turn them into a cool garland. 

In the end, I dropped another $80-something for the yarn I forgot to order in the first place. When I factor in the non-slip back, the only plus to hooking a rug yourself is complete control of the design. 

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It's Just a Bit More Complicated Now, Love - In Defense of When Harry Met Sally

As a rule, I do not necessarily enjoy, for lack of a better term, chick flicks. Never saw The Notebook. I kind of hate movies with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.  My friends dragged me to Serendipity and just UGH! I was massively uncomfortable and the whole thing was so predictable. But, there is Harold and Maude, the Before trilogy, and of course, When Harry Met Sally. Offbeat romances? 

What I like about Harry and Sally is the realness of it. Love is complicated. You don't write your phone number on a dollar bill and then send it into circulation. What you do do (ha!, I said doodoo) is keep running into that guy that you were forced to interact with and that you cannot stand. Relatable. And because you don't see eye-to-eye with this dude, you feel okay being authentic. They put on a front when they are set up with each other's best friends, and true love is hiding in plain sight as a

buddy that they are just bouncing ideas off of and getting the opposite sex's perspective. Yeah, it's a great movie because they are both clueless that they're in love. Like Moonstruck, love doesn't solve your problems: it just creates a mess. Embrace it.

We get a glimpse, just one moment, where we get the happily ever after! This movie is genius!!!! His love of her OCD when it comes to food is everything! And that, my friends, is love. Love is being annoyed to the point of insanity and still being attracted to this soul. Not the blue eyeshadow and not her alphabetized VHS tapes (yes, this is somewhat of a delayed review. I'd also like to congratulate Brian Boitano on that phenomenal free skate = just great!) but how she spends hours on her hair and too much money on shoes and other nonsense that makes her Sally. Harry, where are you? You're late...

These two went to the same Midwestern college and moved to NYC. They disliked each other immediately, and were authentic in an age where it is much easier to be annoyed than find the good in someone. But love will find a way. Sex is easy; it's intimacy that's hard. They are equals until...

I love New York. It really doesn't deserve me and I am too good for the Big Apple, but there's just something about it. Love it or hate it, you probably have an opinion. Like me. Take it or leave it, but I am what I am and I love it, so, Harry, I'm ready, and it helps if you don't bring that coffee table. That stupid, Roy Roger's, wagon wheel coffee table! 

Modern Life Indignities

A list of modern day pet peeves. Know what I hate? Scanning barcodes instead of being handed a menu. Know why? Because you only need to update one record to change the prices instead of reprinting a full set of menus. I detest filling out customer service forms online and getting a form email with a logo where a person's name should be. When did it become acceptable to tell a customer, nope, can't help you. No suggestions are given as to what to do, not even a pat courtesy word like "sorry" or "hello". Self-checkout? Don't blame me when I scan a smart TV accidentally as a bag of spinach. It is grim.

What do we do with this feeling of being a stone let for blood? We have short-cutted and streamlined our way into this mess and it shows no sign of stopping. It is impossible to save the planet when I cannot even talk to a human about issues I am experiencing. We are all in crisis. Racing to the bottom isn't working any longer.

Please stop taking this out on Jane and John Q. Public. We are weary and suspicious and we're tired of our only choices being stepping on or being trod upon. Civility. It is time.

We cannot wait for someone else to do it. Society is too cut-throat as it is. Don't add fuel to the fire - the world is already burning.

Carry on! Help out and carry on.

Generational Trauma and White Men

Men and PTSD. They have it, too. Do they cause most problems? Yes. Are they entitled? Uh-huh. They're also hurting, and it is nearly impossible to empathize, but I am trying.

We send them into war. Be successful but don't flaunt it. They aren't allowed to cry. I think I'd be pissed, too. I have been courting a man, and it is hard! Until this, I'd be the first to judge a man for not having his lines rehearsed or poorly navigating my weird sense of humor - but be careful! One wrong word and you will not hear the end of it!

Setting yourself up for rejection is a hard lifestyle, but trying to impress is all-consuming. If I keep this up, will I eventually become a Proud Boy? It seems like my string of success with men will never end, despite the grey hairs - not just the ones you can see! - and non-symmetrical lines that cannot be classified other than "fold wrinkles". That, or I am telegraphing somehow that I am easy. I am not, but I must be broadcasting otherwise. I could not be trickier.

In any case, I need to come to the conclusion that these men are people. I know this intellectually, but the anecdotal evidence leads me to different ideas. Those loud pompous facades just mask their own insecurity, no matter how repulsive. It is well and good for me to think I'd do it better, and I'm sure I would, but so many men are getting it so wrong, I cannot help but wonder why. I can weave in and out of my imagined position of power, so is it the non-stop incessant nature of it that is making them nuts?

I was mocked for missing the kickball. That's fair, and I was a scrawny girl. And, it had to be comedy gold to witness, very Charlie Brown! But, imagine if I was a boy! The outfield moved up and everyone, including me, expected I'd miff. When I was bullied, it was just fulfilling the prophecy. There was a boy that was the male counterpart of me that had to do an insane amount of pullups to get credibility. I was allowed to remain a weakling. Boys are forced to toughen up. Pressure.

I can flounder, as I am currently, and society doesn't have a problem with me asking for help. Men cannot do this. They have to act. Too much pressure and doing it yourself are a recipe for disaster. I do feel bad for them. Almost. As I write this, my white trash male neighbors are throttling their ATVs around and around my block. In Queens, NYC. The cars that use my 2-block street as a drag strip come about once or twice an hour. I nearly felt compassion and they make a huge spectacle with so much noise and exhaust, windows rattling in the car and in our homes, but who cares? They're enjoying themselves!

Guys want women to come out and say things, and women want men to read their minds and stop acting like fools. Neither is going to happen until we get some perspective. Enjoy the communication gap in the meantime, because sometimes the assholes can be entertaining. But, be careful! Because, they can also be killers.