Post-Holiday Stress Disorder
How was your Fourth and general Indie Pendants weekend? Mine was pretty swell, thanks, though we were fairly antisocial (all our friends were out of town) and domestic. A little BBQing (roasted ears of corn and veggie burgers ‘n’ riblets), a little knitting, a few episodes of Buffy season 6, a thorough an long-overdue housecleaning — aside from lingering dissatisfaction with every book I’ve started lately (see below), it was jolly-fine.
Probably the most exciting thing to happen was during our long-ass walk on Sunday. We were walking on Route 2 near the Alewife T station, and while we were waiting for a walk signal, we watched some kids — maybe 10 or 12 years old — on the other side of the intersection shove each other. One kid’s bike was in the right lane. What first appeared to be boyish scuffling turned ugly as the light changed. A couple of the boys were fighting and trying to shove each other into traffic. It felt very stop-action photography to me, as if time were stuttering, and I had this vision of one or more of the kids getting hit. All I could do from where we stood was yelp and press my palm to my chest while cars whizzed by the combatants and honked. Fortunately, the driver of an SUV stopped (and effectively blocked all the cars behind him, who started honking and yelling) and got out to try and break up the fight. The kids weren’t easily calmed, and flailed and kicked the SUV driver and another driver who’d gotten out to help. The SUV driver would put one kid down, and he would immediately lunge toward the other kid. A woman bystander said sadly to her friend, “They’re going to start fighting again as soon as he leaves.” The fracas subsided enough that D. and I could pass by on the sidewalk, but as my adrenaline ebbed I started feeling really panicky — what if one of them had had a weapon? What if the fight wasn’t over? What if one of the boys decided to bike up behind D. and me as we crossed the bridge and pushed one of us into the traffic lane? I was also pretty dehydrated and woozy by that time. Once we got on a side street leading toward Mass. Ave., we sat on a curb in the shade and decompressed a little. Once I’d gotten some water at a liquor store, I started feeling less like the holiday had been spoiled by the scary and potentially tragic situation.
BagWatch ‘04
I finished knitting Sue’s Marsupial tote/pouch and all but completed Janet’s — I still have to knit the little pouch and cord and do the small bit of finishing work, but that won’t take too long — and it looks like I’ll be able to felt them this week. (Quarters willing — our washer in the basement is coin-op, though I’ve never seen anyone come by to collect any cash. It takes 18 quarters to felt a project, so I’m going to try to wash the first two bags together.) I need to get back to work on a baby hat for one of my colleagues, and then I’ll get cracking on Paula’s gig bag. I should order the yarn for Melissa’s soon.
Book Listlessness
I would welcome suggestions about what to read next. Not having a good book or three in the queue makes me tense. I’m midway through:
- Flights of Angels by Ellen Gilchrist. I’m a big fan of her writing, particularly the Rhoda stories, but I enjoy it more when I read a story or two at a timerather than plowing straight through.
- Beard on Food by (duh) James Beard. This was a cheapie remaindered hardcover that I’m glad to have, but there’s only so many chapters on Christmas dinners I can read on a hot July day.
- We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I’m not sure whether I hate the pretentiously purple prose, the narrator (who explains that her 15-year-old son murdered 8 people in his school because he was a bad seed — Eeeee-vil with a capital “E”! — and the kind of baby who would shriek for hours just to piss her off), or myself for believing the reviews that said it was more than a crass coattailling on sensational news events. It might not be fair of me to disparage a book when I’m only halfway through it, but I’ve read enough to find the writing wooden, the pathos slathered on with a trowel, the characters comically transparent, and the “message” facile and movie-of-the-week. Beware.
- The Male Cross-Dressers Support Group by Tama Janowitz. OK, my opinions will probably be discounted by dint of admitting I started reading this book. But last week I had jury duty at a distant courthouse that took a subway, commuter rail, and taxi ride to reach, and I wanted something frothy and undemanding. Even with lowered expectations, I couldn’t justify spending more time on this than a day’s jury duty would demand. I had a vague recollection of liking Slaves of New York way back when, but it could be my ossifying brain cells steering me wrong.
- Surrender the Pink by Princess Leia. Another attempt at light summer fare, but I couldn’t stomach the theme that Woman’s Purpose Is to Find and Please Her Man.
I’m very excited about the imminent felting of my bag! :) I’m pretty sure I have 18 quarters in the coin-sorter on the dresser… if only I could send them your way!