Exhibits A, B & C

Let's get the bad news right out of the way. Somebody smashed into our car Thursday night while it was parked directly in front of the apartment. It was in a corner parking spot, and was hit hard enough to move up about 8 feet and into the car parked two spots ahead. Ian discovered it in the morning - we officially sleep like the dead. The offending car left their grill and nice neighbors left notes wrapped in plastic wrap. (Exhibits A, B & C)

Astro (named by Kristen, "like the dog and the turf!") is officially totaled and we say goodbye tomorrow. The bright sides: I was determined to drive Astro until he fell apart on the highway, leaving pieces between Mobile and New York. This is surely safer. Also, Steve generously offered his old car to us after he heard the whining growl of Astro's engine in December. In a few weeks we will drive it up from Atlanta and brand it with an Obama sticker if it doesn't already have one. (I am trying not to read too much into the cracked and broken face of our favorite president.) 

On to good things, like the above picture of my first ever received McSweeney's subscription. Inside is Wholphin No. 12, and I can expect three more issues & four quarterlies this year(ish). They are an awesome Christmas present, and now I can't resist finally subscribing to Believer soon too. 

Despite officially working five days a week like the average schlub, I still get a lot of activities done. I was always the high schooler who stayed every afternoon for some club or team and not much has changed. This week I finished an elaborate mix CD I've been making for Kristen. You can read about it here. It will be followed by about five other packages I'm trying to put together, including my broken chair leg to my mother. Opening the mail is my absolute favorite part of the day, no joke, and I'm trying to increase my postal karma.  

For Rittenhouse Needlepoint I've been working on beefing up our social networking. This week I got our tumblr account rolling, and am personally filling it with things I'm attracted to in the shop. It's my completely biased, photo work blog, and I love it. Look at it here.

Sunday I had the PCB exhibitions committee over for a brunch meeting & had fun setting the table for my first girls-only event at the new place. I meant to take pictures, but highlights included Gma's tea cups, saucers, sugar bowl & creamer, Weaver breakfast casserole with soysage & mushrooms, and skillet berry cornmeal cake. It was productive and fun, and I felt like Emily Gilmore in her garden with the DAR. 

I made cradles again today at APS. I have probably two more days of work to do there, spread over a few weeks. It's extremely satisfying to get paid to do something you love, that you're good at, on the hallowed ground of our forefathers. An oasis in the post grad school doldrums. Other shiny things from the week: finishing Angela's Ashes, Bottomless Belly Button, watching Apocalypse Now, Blow-Up, Trop Belle Pour Toi, and drinking Dock Street's Firkin of the Month, Prisoner of Hell. 

Thunder-snow

Our work week has progressed normally, despite the crippling snow storm. Wednesday was gross and I was pelted with ice between the trolley and home. As the ice pelts turned fluffy and the thunder-snow boomed, I practiced a raucous and difficult waltz on my accordion. During a particularly tricky passage I tapped my foot furiously and was determined to master the odd rhythm. I stomped and hummed, quickly trilled and the sky boomed. Then my chair broke and I crashed to the ground, my only thought the safety of the accordion. Ian asked from the other room, "Are you okay?" and I laughed and laughed. I asked him, "What did it sound like?" "Like crick, WHOMP." 
I told Gma this story on the phone tonight, about how I had to land accordingly as to not damage the instrument. She said, "You mean, accordionly?" It runs in the family.

Afterwards Jenny and I went into our back alley to inspect the snow. She romped and sneezed and caught snowballs in her mouth. I can be seen below in my natural snow-state, with a yard stick and a smile. Ian is hiding in the next one, keeping as much Alabaman inside as possible. 

Winter abides

It's so cold even the Christmas Cactus has decided to blossom for the first time. After the chilly trolley ride home on work days I'm only interested in activities I can do with a cat and a blanket on my lap. So, I've been plowing through some ancient Netflix adds. This week we watched Ça commence aujourd'hui, Micmacs á tire-larigot, and Delicatessen. Ian applauds my "getting the French off the queue" which sounds like a euphemism. I've also caught up on a bit of reading. I finished The French Revolution, which Greg lent me when we got back from our honeymoon (romantic!). I'm halfway through Angela's Ashes, from Gma, and am remarkably a quarter through Ulysses. I have big plans for my to-read bookcase this year and Winter abides.

We took both pets in for their first senior checkups. Jenny is great, Jo not so much. We are giving blood pressure medicine another try on the vet's insistence. However, her kidneys are better than we feared - a year of prescription food has paid off. We celebrated with an Oyster House happy hour. I could eat clams casino and peanut butter chocolate mousse every night.

Lastly, I worked at the American Philosophical Society today. I've been hired to make book cradles for their upcoming exhibit. I was back in the swing of things just in time for the conservation lab to close. I'm very much looking forward to continuing the project next Monday.

Rittenhouse Needlepoint, or Men Like Needle Arts Too.

Huzzah, I have a job! I am the new office/sales assistant at Rittenhouse Needlepoint, a very cute and strictly needlepoint shop ("No, I'm sorry, we don't carry knitting supplies. Would you like to try our free beginner's class on Saturdays?") My primary responsibilities are helping old ladies turn their stitched yarmulkes into three-dimensional objects and maintaining the ambitious online store. The owners have mecca-like plans for the website, and somebody needs to reorganize the 20,000 items listed for sale before these plans were clearly laid out. This mostly means labeling Christmas stockings as such and separating luggage tags from mini purses, etc.

The shop is super thorough and I want to bathe in the skeins of pure silk. There are two owners, with a remarkably charming poodle, three other people in the office and store, an in-house needlepointer, two girls in the finishing department, and two painters. (Truly serious needlepoint canvases are hand painted and made in very small quantity. This is not a hobby for the penny-poor.) Unfortunately, the longer I work here, the more I want to needlepoint. I keep finding cute scissors, thread organizers, and acorn-shaped needle magnets that I covet covet covet. At least, I'm sure, I'll wind up with the below beginner's kit. It's the perfect thing to stitch and hang in the kitchen, commemorating the strange time in my life when I lived in Philadelphia and worked at a needlepoint shop.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

A pleasing surprise about the world of needlepoint is that it's full of hidden kitsch gems. Rosey Grier's Needlepoint for Men is a perfect example. Mr. Grier is quite the Renaissance Man. New York Giant, actor, recording artist, minister - I'll let Wikipedia explain: 
After Grier's professional sports career he worked as a bodyguard for Robert Kennedy during the 1968 presidential campaign and was guarding the senator's wife, Ethel Kennedy, during the Robert F. Kennedy assassination. Although unable to prevent that killing, Grier took control of the gun and subdued the shooter, Sirhan Sirhan.

This man is awesome, and he needlepoints. This gem reminds me of my favorite Chop Suey find: Leonard Nimoy's Warmed by Love. I'd never expect any other job to live up to Chop Suey standards, but maybe this one has a shot.

Rocket ships
Are exciting
But so are roses
On a birthday


Computers are exciting
But so is a sunset


And logic
Will never replace
Love.


Sometimes I wonder
Where I belong
In the future
Or
In the past


I guess I'm just
An old-fashioned
Spaceman.

Winter 2010-11

Winter 2010-11 looks more enjoyable than I remember it. It's so, so dark and Philadelphia won't shake the grays. As the above highlights portray, winter's best moments have been shared in other states. One of my resolutions, with drawing every day and watching all straggling Netflix items added from 2003-2007, is to make the best of our new apartment (newly decorated), studio (completely organized), new job (what's a paycheck?), and Philadelphia in general.  Next episode: Rittenhouse Needlepoint, or Men Like Needle Arts Too.