My Sister by Another Mister

After an application process that took many moons, Big Brothers Big Sisters decided that I was un-scary enough to get a little buddy. It's been about a month since I've been matched, and I thought I'd tell you all about the hijinks that Seest0r and I have gotten into.

On our first playdate we drew pictures. This is a picture of the artiste, by the artiste:

Please notice how the features are tilted to the right, which indicates that she is a budding artistic genius. I also taught her to knit and she picked it up immediately. Not only that, but on our next outing-- a full week later-- she remembered exactly how to do it. Future Mensa member? Almost certainly.

Two weeks I took her bowling for her first time, and helped her get her first spare. I tell you, the smile on that girl's face could have lit a cave at the bottom of the ocean where the fish are colorless and freaky looking.

Last week I took her to see Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and she spent a good portion of the movie asking how and why things happened. Curious like a kitty. A genius kitty.

We're going ice skating today, and I've spent the morning trying to remember the moves I learned during an ice skating class at the U in the spring semester of my junior year. I was the picture of grace and beauty.

Despite what I'm sure is entirely accurate muscle memory, I think I'm going to have to insist that Seest0r wear a helmet just in case I accidentally bring her down with me when I inevitably trip.

I'm most excited for three weeks from now, when we'll see a production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I ran into a higher-up at the theater when I went to get my tickets, and he offered to give us a backstage tour if we got there a little early. Bangarang.

If you have any awesome, low-cost ideas for a future hang out sesh for us, please leave them in the comments. Merci!

Gettin' Knitty

When the first nippy breeze fills the air, a chemical called Knitularus Obsessus fills my brain. Tis that time, my friends, when I give myself the beginnings of arthritis so I can whale on knitting projects large and small in time for the holidays.

Among the projects I've decided to commit to fiber is a blanket in the vein of the one I toiled over last year. If I hope to complete this monstrosity, along with the gloves and big-person fair isle hat I've got my eye on, I have to be militarily disciplined in my output. I've given myself an inch-a-day quota, parceled out over my bus rides to and from work, my lunch hour and before bed time. If I do not complete a row by the time my bus reaches its stop (and with 238 stitches it's not as easy a task as it seems), then I must make use of my newest skill: Knitting While Walking.

If you've mastered Knitting While Watching Movies, then Knitting While Walking isn't such a stretch. I had to do so yesterday since I was 20 stitches short of my bus quota. I garnered myself several odd looks and even one snicker (I shake my needle at you, sir!), but I neither tripped nor fell down the stairs. No, that came later in the day, when I didn't even have the needles in my hand. It's not visible yet, but I can feel the beginnings of quite the shiner on my bum.

My lunch buddy had to depart before the full hour was up yesterday. Instead of simply staring into space alone on my bench during my furious knit-purling, I acquired the skill of Knitting While Reading. I had to sit on the book's edge to keep the spine flat, crouching over it in quite the awkward manner. I laughed, I cried, I learned all about Frida Kahlo, but I persevered and I even completing two whole rows.

Next up on the list is Knitting While Elliptical Machine-ing and the holy grail: Knitting While Eating. I might require an extra pair of limbs for the latter, but I got faith.