On Knitting and the Weather... oh, and Death.

I have taken up knitting. It's very calming and I love it. I love yarn, as those of you who might remember Mad Crochet D. might recall. I haven't crocheted in a while (read: a couple of months), but I have taught myself to knit via the interweb and I am in love. So much so that I knitted scarves and mittens for my entire family for Christmas this year. Because who in CA doesn't need a handknit superfine merino wool scarf in a pleasing rib pattern? In my defense, my whole family (except the two of us Chicago kids) is going skiing two days after Christmas... and skiing requires snow, and is therefore a cold sport, and ergo requires really obsessively warm handknit treasures. Right?

Mostly, this new knitting thing has been somewhat therapeutic for me. I have been pretty down as of late. My Nana's death hit me really hard, coupled with the death of a friend from high school literally the next day, the death of our pet betta fish, Bruce Lee, and the untimely demise of my car, Jane. Oh, and a lack of employment for a while. Note to parents out there who totally read this blog: if you find out via the internet that someone you think your kid might have known passed away suddenly and unexpectedly (as is often the case with people who are 26 years old), do your kid a favor and don't e-mail the obit to them; call them, please. E-mail is a shitty way to discover such a thing. Moving on.

Yesterday, there was a pleasant spring-like feel to the air (on the first day of winter... only in Chicago...). It was 50 degrees outside and totally t-shirt weather (which CA me still finds terribly funny). Gray and drizzly, yes, but warm, too. All of the mountains of snow that have adorned my fair street melted in the rain and warmth, which means that Christmas may not be white, but instead will be ugly, gray and brown. Ugh. Still waiting on that White Fucking Christmas..... grrr.

But today, today is brutally cold and windy. Don't believe me?

Then look at this:


That's the weather here, today. A mere 12-24 hours after 50 degree highs right here. Blast.

Enter depression.... but wait! What do I do every winter when I am freezing my warm-blooded California ass off in the northern regions of the country where they have Seasons (there are four, did you know? And none of them have the word "fire" in them!)? That's right, dear readers, I look up the weather in Barrow, Alaska, the United States' northernmost outpost of civilization, population: 4,065 cold, cold souls.


So, thank you, Barrow, for making me feel glad I'm here and not there. Here's to you! P.S. Now, I'll knit you a lovely warm scarf if you please don't die on me. Please?

That is all.