Improvements

I was apprehensive about the the voice placement audition, but I appeared relaxed and I did fine. My new range is A2 to D#4, which means I'm a Baritone now. Not surprising: Second Tenor was getting uncomfortable even twenty-five years ago. The "Welcome" email informed me I was a Lower Baritone, but the roster and my name badge say I'm an Upper. (There's probably a top/bottom joke in there that has already been made a thousand times in gay men's chorus settings.)

 A–– texted me: "A little singing and the voice will be as strong as ever, Promise. The muscles need building but the instincts are still top notch." That meant so much, and helped me press on through the social anxiety of interacting with strangers. And it seems A–– was right: I've been singing for less than a month–only two weekly rehearsals plus a bit of practice at home, and I already notice improvement. The other day, I randomly sang a snatch of some commercial jingle, and my tone was solid, not scratched and wavering like it has been. It's good to think a tune and have the notes more reliably come out of my mouth.

The winter storm cancelled the third rehearsal in January, but there are rehearsal tracks to download, and practiced with those yesterday. I surprised myself in a couple places where I was steadier on some tricky pitches and rhythms than the ensemble who recorded the tracks. So yeah: I still have skills.

"Rehearsal tracks to download." I have to talk about the tech changes since I dropped music as a hobby. Of course there's a web platform now to manage chorus membership, communications, calendars, music distribution, etc. Our sheet music is on PDF; nearly everyone uses tablets. They printed music for new members, and even though I bought myself a Pixel Tablet, I've continued to sing from the printed sheets. 

In addition to the tablet, I bought a USI2.0 stylus so I can take notes, and a piano. No, not a real piano; a digital one: Yamaha P-143BTB. For about a year, I'd been thinking it would be fun to get a digital piano and start practicing with the lesson books I used when I was a kid. (I found them on Internet Archive.) It's not top of the line, but it has 88 keys and an acceptable sound. I found room for it in the basement, on top of my grandmother's antique post office desk.

So every couple days I spend about an hour in the basement, perched on a box on a chair, slowly pursuing the musicality of my youth.

Reclaiming My Voice

 I met A–– when we were teenagers, singing in the state fair youth choir. He went on to have an admirable career in music, and currently heads the music department at a prestigious private school. I don't see him often, but when I do, he wants to sing together, and I usually put him off. "I've lost my voice," I say, or claim (truthfully) that sporadic sinus/ear problems cause me to hear sounds at dissonant pitches rendering me tone deaf. But a month ago, he and his husband were visiting Ohio, and I agreed to sing carols at the hotel's piano.

I'm not just out of practice; I really have lost my voice. My voice is thin, and my breath control is shot. I don't have the top third of my old range. I don't know what correct pitches "feel like" in the range I have left. I've lost the habit of good technique, and it was embarrassing to squeak out notes alongside my professional-voice-coach friend with his beautiful, richly resonant voice.

I knew I wasn't a musician anymore. I was never great, but I had talent and got by, never putting in the practice to get better once I left school. And although I was a little wistful about that, I didn't really mind. In a real sense, knitting had replaced music as my defining hobby. I'm a better knitter than I ever was a musician, if that makes any sense.

A–– always believed I was a better singer than I thought I was, and though he was too kind to say, I expect he's disappointed in me, leaving what talent I had to wither from neglect. And singing with A––, I realized I too am disappointed in me. I resolved to make an effort to strengthen what's left of my singing voice.

The next week, I looked up when Columbus Gay Men's Chorus would hold voice placement auditions, and I made an appointment.

Headlamp Hat

For my 23.25-inch head, I should have a hat that's about 21-inches in
 circumference. Blocked, this hat measures 20-inches, but fits nicely.

HEAD LAMP HAT
Toque with integrated USB Rechargeable LED.

Size Shown: Men's Large (23-inch head circumference)

Yarn Weight: DK

Yarn Used: Into the Whirled Dresden DK, "Captain Tightpants"

Needles: US 4 (one size smaller for brim)

Gauge: 24 stitches to 4-inches/10cm

Supplies: USB Rechargeable Light with Rubber Frame

Knit a gauge swatch using your preferred yarn/needles.  Measure the circumference of your head at the top of your ears. Subtract about 10% for negative ease, multiply that by your gauge, and cast-on. (I cast on 115 sts.)

Knit in the round for 2 inches. Increase 5 stitches (about 5%) in next round, then knit 2 rounds. Purl a round to create turning edge.

Knit 3/4 inch. Bind off 1.25-inches of stitches (see TechKnitter's buttonhole instructions for a neater edge). Work flat for 1. inch, then cast-on across the gap the number of stitches you had previously bound off. Place marker, and resume working in the round until you have the same number of rounds above and below the purl ridge. This creates a hole in the brim sized for the light I purchased; you may have a different sized light which may require a larger or smaller hole. I recommend making the hole so the rubber gasket fits snuggly—my rubber gasket is sized for a 1.5 x 1.25 inch hole, so I subtracted 1/4 inch from the length and width.

Fold the brim along the purl turning ridge, with the cast-on edge behind your live stitches. Close the hem by working cast-on edge together with your live stitches. (Again, see TechKnitter's instructions.) Leave about 1 inch of the "hem" unclosed, so you have a gap to insert and remove rechargeable lamp.

Knit plain to desired depth. I like a bit of height to my hats, so I worked about 10.5-inches plain before starting the crown. 

Decrease 8 stitches per round on alternate rounds for crown. (I worked *SSK, k13* around, then a plain round, *SSK, k12*,  knit plain, etc.) For more info on crown shaping, see Woolly Wormhead's Crown Shaping Master Class.

Bald Men Need Hats

For years, Greg had been cutting my hair every three weeks. I'd long wondered if I was fooling myself, but friends and colleagues told me not to shave my head. "I don't think of you as a bald person; my mental picture of you has hair," said a children's librarian I worked with.

Then one day I snapped a selfie backstage, and the backlighting and blur effect resulted in this startling portrait.

Backstage during "Tuck Everlasting," preparing to
step on as "Old Hugo" in the final dance number.

It was time to face facts. "I think our time together is coming to an end soon," I said to Greg. He gave me my usual trim, and then I gave him the go-ahead to keep going, as he buzzed all my hair down to a fine stubble. I was afraid, but once it was done I really liked the look. 

Good thing too, because when the pandemic hit and hair salons were closed, it was great not to have to worry about my hair.

I already was used to wearing caps in the summer to keep my bald spot from burning, but I was lackadaisical about hats in the winter. It's been a struggle finding hat styles that I look good in, though. What seems to work best is close-fitting beanie or toque, knit slightly long so the top sits an inch above my skull.

I don't need a thick hat: my bald head puts out a lot of heat, and in fact, I've found in the summer that I prefer a coating of sunscreen on the scalp, as I tend to overheat in a cap. Last fall, I bought a Night Scope Beanie to wear on my dark morning walks; looks good and works great, but it's too thick and hot. So I'm experimenting: I found these rechargeable LED beanie lights on Amazon, and I'm working on a simple beanie, leaving a hole in the hemmed brim to insert the light.

Finished picture with yarn and pattern details soon.

PS: While I don't miss my hair at all, I do miss seeing Greg.

Facelift

Very slow day at work (winter storm on a Friday before Christmas weekend has closed every library in the state and left our inboxes empty and our to-do lists moribund), so I decided, "Hey, why not dust off your blog?"

Competition, principally from Ravelry and then from Facebook, had pretty much killed this blog as on online outlet, but times have changed. Ravelry underwent a redesign that permanently damaged its place at the heart of the online knitting community. (The last two knitting books I've looked at don't even have their patterns listed there, which would have been unthinkable five years ago.) Facebook had me in its grip until October of last year, when I found it was possible to take control of my timeline with Unfollow Everything. I still scan Facebook occasionally to check in on my friends' lives, but I update less frequently, and that's true of many of them as well.

When Twitter began melting down when Elon Musk took the reins two months ago, I had hopes that we'd see blogs come back. Sadly, that's unlikely. Perhaps if there was a tool as handy and easy to use as the old Google Reader there would be a chance. But few people care about the power and flexibility of RSS anymore. (For the record, I still do, and pay a subscription fee for Newsblur to keep my feed collection available.)

Will I keep this up? Unlikely. I'm a fairly busy guy. (And frankly, I kind of hate writing.) Nevertheless, I've occupied a few hours today selecting a new template for the blog, making it behave better on mobile devices, cleaning up the side widget, and replacing my old, blocky cartoon avatar with a current Bitmoji.

For those of you, like me, who still have a collection of RSS feeds and you've seen my blog suddenly show up again after a five year silence: "Hi there. Here's hoping your holidays are satisfying, and the new year brings you some joy."

SM - Wrap Up

Life got too busy to stick to my blogging plan.

Ultimately, I generally liked stage managing, but the satisfaction it returned wasn't worth the time invested. Once we got into tech week, I would commonly spend up to 8 hours at the theater.

My dedication was appreciated, though. The director claims exclusivity with me for all future productions (I declined to sign that pre-nup). Although I initially butted heads with the sound designer -- she's an experienced theater tech who felt that this show didn't require separate light and sound board operators as well as an in-booth SM calling cues -- I won her over by my eagerness to learn, and to do what I could to insure a smooth, perfect run. Towards the end of the run, she began lobbying me to SM a production for her at a different theater.

Initially, I declared that I wouldn't SM again until I'd retired. But I might consider doing it again, perhaps once a year, under certain conditions:

1. A maximum of 2 acts. The 3+ hour run-time of this show was brutal.
2. Inside the loop. The 40 minute commute to the theater easily doubled during rush hour.
3. Get Michael involved. Rehearsal and performance reduced my interactions with my husband to short, sleepy conversations as I arrived home late and settled into bed, where he already had been dozing.
4. A technical director runs strike, and I don't have to be involved. That was long, hard work, and made a bitter, unpleasant end to the experience. I don't want to do that again.

I enjoyed the satisfaction of learning something new and doing it well. It was fun running the sound board for pickup rehearsals during the run of the play, and one afternoon I ran the light board so the tech could go see a different show. (It was easier, I found, to actually hit the "Go" button myself than to tell someone else to do it.)

Now that it's all over, I expect I'll get a bit restless, but for now, I'm very much enjoying the old routine of meals with Mike and quiet evenings at home in front of the TV.

SM - Rehearsal Space I

I suspect this has been one of the easiest SM gigs out there. Weeks have gone by, and I haven't had anything to blog about. My only job has been to find rehearsal space, and for this show, it's been easy. They're starting rehearsals with "beat work," intensely working short vignettes within the play's act-long scenes to determine each character's objective at the moment, what obstacles are in the way, and what the character is doing to overcome them. It's interesting analytical work, but there's not much for a stage manager to do. They're not up on their feet moving, so my primary responsibility -- record the blocking -- is delayed. The stage manager's opinion of a character motivation and portrayal is irrelevant. Knowing that I'll have opinions that are unwanted and unwelcome, I reasoned that it's best for all involved if I don't attend beat work.

So where are they doing this work? There's no need to book a theater or big rehearsal space, so I've been finding conference rooms in public libraries. Most of the libraries in the county have online reservation systems, so I can quickly find out if a room is available and reserve it for the cast.

Rehearsal is called for Monday, Labor Day, and the libraries won't be open, so I'm abusing my employee privileges to get us into one of my libraries that evening. I'm looking forward to seeing their progress.

SM - Audition Chuckle

I mentioned last post that I enjoyed all the actors' work in auditions. That's true. Not that I'd put anything negative about it here, but I really don't have anything negative to say.

But there is something that struck me as funny.

Some of the actors auditioning for "George" have obviously been influenced by Richard Burton's performance, and would try on the accent. It came through most strongly when addressing Martha.

"Mah-tha."

Late in the evening, my brain flipped it to "Mothra."

I thought it was fitting, Mothra.
Well, why don't you choose, Mothra?
Mothra's going to run things...
Mothra's going to put on some rhythm she understands...

George and Mothra. Interesting premise for a kaiju production of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I wonder if the Albee estate would object?

SM - Phoning disappointment

The duty fell to me to call the people who were not cast. I wasn't expecting that -- neither of the SM books I read mentioned it.

It suuuuuucked.

If I was lucky, I could leave a voicemail, and rattle off my short message. "This is Don, the stage manager for 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.'" I want to thank you for auditioning for the show. As you saw, there was a small but very talented group of people vying for the parts, and I'm afraid that you weren't selected. I want to let you know how much I enjoyed watching you audition..." [and I was sincere here: I did enjoy everyone, and I tried to say something quick about an individual, like their character choices, their timing, their instinct for balance in blocking and movement] "...and I wish the best in future auditions and shows."

Of course, this was derailed when anyone actually answered their phone, and I had to stumble through this as a dialogue.

After I'd started calling, I was given some good suggestions for delivering this message. Basically, it was a longer version of what I'd been saying, but with more information about the company, upcoming shows in the season, etc. Too much for a voicemail or a quick phone call. It was good info, but I bet little of it will be retained, given that the thesis of the conversation is "Bad News: You Didn't Get It." Probably even my sympathy and praise got lost in the disappointment. I'd much rather send an email. Not only do I have more careful editorial control of the message, but I can pack extra info. Sure, the recipient gets hit with the rejection and disappointment, but the things I say to try to offset that, which probably get ignored verbally, can be read again later, and the good information can be saved and consulted again.

It seems it's this company's practice to always call. I get it: there's a personal touch. And I seem to have inadvertently rocked a boat by suggesting to a board member that, if I keep with this SM gig, in the future I'll push back on the "call" requirement and insist on emailing. At the very least, I'll do both.

Beard

An interlude.

Facebook tells me that it is the two year anniversary of dying my beard.

Since that initial experiment with indigo, I've gone turquoise...

...ginger...

...and currently it's brown with some auburn tones.

Looks a little scraggly at the moment because I'm seeing how I feel about growing it a bit longer. I've learned over the years that purple and green wash out in a couple days, while turquoise covers well and hangs on. Some of the grays in my beard resist the dyes, but they add highlights that make the earth tones look more natural. The white in my hair, however, sucks up henna and becomes a shiny copper.

Reds mess with my "season," and a lot of the clothes that looked good with my salt-and-pepper-but-mostly-salt hairs clash with the copper browns and auburns. Now that I've got a good base of the brown, I'm thinking next I'll drop some pure indigo on it again to deepen the black and add a touch of blue.

SM - Auditions

Last weekend, I had my first experience being on the other side of auditions. I don't think I did too badly, but I felt like I was scrambling the entire time.

The director asked me to make sure that everyone read at least twice. That was the easy part: a simple grid in my notebook let me track the number of times an actor was called up. Then I began to try keeping closer track of who read with whom. I'm sure I could analyze my notes and pull that information out, but it's not clear at a glance. My task was further complicated by one actor auditioning for both of the female roles. Nor do I have very clear evaluative comments: only some pluses and minuses next to names when I had positive and negative thoughts, only occasionally elucidated by a word or two of explanation.

Consequently, I don't think I was much help in the casting committee discussions. Fortunately, the rest of the committee had good observations with specific notes. I just drew on my experience leading discussions toward decisions, watching for groupthink, logical errors, and un-examined assumptions. A few times I would throw in contrary interpretations and observations to test the strength of emerging decisions.

In the end, I think the casting decisions were strong. I remarked to a friend that, although auditions were lightly attended, the casting decision was difficult, and I believe we could have capably cast the show with 4 completely different individuals.

The auditions hammered home for me an important fact about stage managing: quick, efficient note-taking. I'm a little nervous about this. Luckily, I've recorded blocking in a script before -- albeit from the actor's side - but I'm sure it will take me some time before I feel really comfortable in my note-taking prowess.

SM - Photocopying

My first practical experience as a stage manager suggests that the job is largely about photocopying.

I had two photocopying chores up front: to copy the auditions scenes (simple enough), and to create a rehearsal script.

Knowing it was fruitless, I visited Kinko's to see if they could transform the 5⅛ x 7¾, double-sided pages into full 8½ x 11 single-sided pages. No dice. Same thing at Staples, although there were nice enough to cut the binding off for me so I could do it myself at my work copier. (Employees can do b&w copies for only 2¢ per page.) It took some finagling -- and an email to our copier rental company -- to figure out the enlargement settings (let the copier do it for you automatically) and how to make it turn double-sided into single, but then it was smooth sailing. I stood by the copier, transferring each page from the copier onto a stack face-up, so that my pages were placed in reverse order.

My rehearsal script, with the lines numbered for easy reference.

With the pages in reverse order, I could punch holes on the right side of the page, so that in the binder, the script is on the left, leaving the back of the next page free for me to take notes on.

In The Back Stage Guide to Stage Management, Thomas Kelly mentions entering an entire script on a computer, so that SMs can take advantage of larger and smaller fonts to prepare cueing scripts (i.e., small fonts for when 3 pages go by with no cues; bigger fonts and more spacing to sections dense with cues; etc.). Great idea, but too time consuming for me. I did do some poking around in the sketchier parts of the Internet to see if I could find an existing electronic copy, but Dramatists Play Service and/or the Albee estate seem pretty diligent about crushing any pirated texts out there, and I stopped before my search imperiled by computer's operating system or the security of my credit cards.

SM - Preparation

Back in March, a friend posted on Facebook that he would be stage manager for a community theater show and was looking for an assistant. I thought that might be an interesting thing to learn, and might be a way for me to dip my toe back into community theater, which I haven't done in 16 (!) years.

It was a generally good experience, and I apparently did well enough that I was asked to stage manage this friend's next show. As I've been preparing, I thought I'd dust off my blog and reflect on the process.

I checked out two books to get me started: The back stage guide to stage management and Stage manager: the professional experience--refreshed. Both books are geared toward the professional, though interestingly, the one with "professional experience" in the subtitle does give frequent nods to the amateur reader. They're arming me with a lot of information going in. Overall, stage management looks to be a lot like my job as a library' deputy director: identify the people and their roles, coordinate communications, anticipate needs, handle crises, know things. I'm excited for the challenge.

After diving into the general information, I think next up is to start assembling my tools. I've decided to do most of my record-keeping in the cloud, so I bought a Chromebook. I haven't yet decided whether to coordinate everything through my personal email address or, like the director, to create a production-specific address. I'm leaning toward the former -- I think of email addresses the same as I do of keys: the more that I have, the more problems I carry around with me and the more I have to sort through to find what I need. For the time being, I'm compromising with the Gmail trick of instant, disposable addresses, adding a "+vw" to my regular email handle.

I'll need a bag to keep my Chromebook in, as well as all the stuff I want to have with me. I have this fantasy of being able to pull from this bag anything anyone might need: Sharpie, tweezers, gaffer tape, mints, Starbucks card, etc. (I've always remembered the animated Around the World in 80 Days, each episode beginning with Fogg instructing Passepartout to pack a random assortment of items, each of which would be useful in saving them during the day's adventures.) And of course, the bag will have my rehearsal script. More on that next post.

Gift Card Cozy/Sock Swatch

I'm working on a troublesome design idea that is requiring me to make lots of small swatch experiments. The idea hit me to turn these little test pouches into gift card cozies. Here's my basic recipe:

• Using sock yarn and 2.5mm sock needles,Turkish cast-on 22 loops.
  I originally wrote "24 loops," but that's a bit loose. YMMV.
• Knit across 22 stitches; turn.
  I loop the working yarn around the cable on the opposite side. This makes a wrap that I can use to close the short-row gap by working k2tog-tbl at the end of the first round.
• Knit a few rounds plain.

This creates a little pouch, 22 stitches on each side. I test two variations of my idea, one on each side.


When finished testing, knit a few plain rounds, then bind off.

---

Why do I knit 22 stitches then turn? Because I like a nice, purled turning edge at the bottom of the pouch, but I hate purling the first stitches. Knitting, then turning around to knit the other way makes that nice, sharp bottom. It's extra fussy of me to do the little short-row wrap, because I could easily sew closed any holes with the tail that's hanging there. But are you surprised that I'm extra fussy?

Olympics Day 16

The start was promising, but like many a good athlete, I didn't have the talent, drive, or luck to make it to the medal stand. I finished one sleeve in a good, competitive pace, but by Day 3 my energy was pulled elsewhere, and I began to fall short of Olympic performance.

I began the body using TECHknitter's method with a long tail cast-on rather than provisional. That proved to be a mistake. As TECHknitter warns, a hem that is knitted shut, rather than sewn, tends to flip up. Blocking probably would have corrected it, but I knew it would be a perpetual source of irritation with the finished sweater, and since it was clear by Day 11 that I wouldn't cross the finish line in time, I started over.

I'll keep at it, because I'm excited by my vision of the completed sweater, but I fear without the Olympic focus this may end up like so many of my sweaters -- unfinished at the last stage because I just don't like them well enough to follow through.

Olympics Day 1

...and we're off!

The torch is lit in Rio, and this morning I cast on for my sweater. My goal is to make a seamless, saddle shoulder henley out of Wensleydale wool from Triskelion Yarn and Fiber.

A half-assed gauge swatch shows me at 5.5 stitches per inch, which makes my key number 235. I cast on 20% -- 47 stitches -- while waiting for my oil change and tire rotation this morning. I didn't have a second needle with me to pick up the provisional stitches to close the hem, but discovered it's not too difficult to grab those stitches from the back of the crochet chain.

I've never worked a sweater starting with the sleeves, but it seems like a better plan than starting with the body.

More about this "Rio Sweater" project as the Olympics unfold.

Limoncello Batch #1

So the batch of limoncello I started on New Year's Day is out in the wild.

Alcohol: Everclear 190 (1 1.75l bottle)
Lemons: 20 organic from Fresh Market
Simple Syrup: 10 cups water, 7 cups sugar

The simple syrup was the problematic step. Because the Everclear was 190, instead of 151 from the recipe, I would need much more simple syrup to get the alcohol content down to something drinkable. Ben at limoncelloquest.com recommends going down to 25% alcohol if you're giving it away as a gift, but I was worried that a gallon of simple syrup would make the whole thing much too sweet.

My friend A--- wisely pointed out that you can always put more simple syrup in, but you can't take it out. So I decided to double the "standard" recipe, putting in about 13.5 cups of simple syrup.

I couldn't wait for it to mellow, and tried a shot that night (February 13). The flavor was generally good, but there was a harshness underneath. The harshness did soften a bit over time, but in the end, the alcohol content of this is really too high -- the calculator puts it at about 33%. When you hold a swallow in your mouth, it burns slightly, like Listerine.

I've bottled it up, and am selectively handing out to friends to try, encouraging them to experiment with ways to offset the alcohol. A--- thinks she wants to try mixing in some whipping cream. My best success so far was with a very good Ginger Limoncello Fizz cocktail: a shot of limoncello, a shot of ginger ale, and a couple shots of seltzer.

Prayer Shawl

Mummy dust, to make me old. To shroud my clothes, the black of night. To age my voice, an old hag's cackle. To whiten my hair, a scream of fright. A blast of wind to fan my hate. A thunderbolt to mix it well. Now, begin thy magic spell.

--Queen, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs"

As a kid who was fascinated with magic and spells, I loved this section of the movie and the idea of sounds and other intangibles made into ingredients. To create a magic potion, you literally mix metaphors.

The knitting project I'm working on brought this scene to mind. My library knitting group wanted to explore shawls for our February meeting, and I decided I was going to sign up for Josh Ryks' latest mystery knit-along. It was a fun evening, and Josh was great. But instead of getting into the new shawl design, my heart was captured by an old one, Urban Survival, which Josh admits is one of his favorites.

So what ingredients are going into my Urban Survival spell? The yarn base is called Fortitude, which seems like a good foundation for survival. The set I bought includes the colors "Slush" (something to be warded against), "Earl Grey" (for comfort), and "Gun Powder." While I personally don't believe that gun powder is necessary or helpful for urban survival, the friend who is the likely recipient of this shawl certainly does. I'm adding from my stash a bit of "Midnight Blue," symbolizing...what? Late night melancholy? Quiet romance?  There's something peaceful and calm--stable, solid, and subtle--about the dark blue worked into the dark gray. And playful too, like the blue in Superman's hair.

I don't believe in magic, and I don't believe my knitting is imbued with the energies of my intentions, but I find I'm enjoying the idea of casting a spell with my yarn.

Prepping for Christmas 2016

I hate shopping, and that makes Christmas an ordeal. I love my friends and family, and I love the feeling of having a gift for someone which is perfect for them. But I hate finding those gifts, and frankly, I'm not really thoughtful enough to come up with a different, perfect gift for every individual.

Arts fairs are cool, and I love supporting the independents who sell there, but it's too easy to find too many options for some people and nothing for others. When we went to Winterfair, I decided to just enjoy it rather than take on the shopping pressure: if I saw something cool, I would buy it, regardless if I had an intended recipient in mind. That's a strategy I may repeat. Perhaps not all the gifts I gave were home-runs, but none of them completely struck out.

You'd think a knitter would be at an advantage here, but I hate the pressure of required knitting almost as much as I hate shopping. (Every year, Yarn Harlot chronicles the escalating stress of her Christmas knitting. I've stopped bothering to read those posts -- she brings it on herself.) Still, knitting is impressive, and at the beginning of 2015, I resolved to knit a Christmas ornament every week, so I'd have a stockpile of little, handmade gifts. I think that resolution held up for 3 weeks, producing only a couple oak leaves.

I also had this idea that my sister and I should make limoncello and give it away in little gift bottles. My plan was to start in August. But when August finally came, I was in an emotionally wretched state from the twin blows of being offered a job I didn't want and then
not being offered the job I did want.

But it's a new year, and I've got 11½ months to prepare. Friends had scored 1.75l of 190 proof Everclear for me in the fall, and my family bought me the Microplane Zester from my Amazon wishlist. I spent the first morning of 2016 zesting 20 organic lemons while running the Everclear through a filter as LimoncelloQuest.com recommends.

As for the knitting, I could take another stab at the "On Sunday We Make Ornaments" resolution, but I know it's doomed to failure. Maybe I could convince myself to do one knitted give-away per month?

IDEAS:

• Ornaments, like felted oak leaf, small sock, or folded Moravian paper star
• Jultomtar
• Wine totes or sweaters
• Gift card sweaters or coffee cup sleeves

Things I Wish I Had More Time to Do

I need a staycation. The list of things I wish I had more time to do is getting out of hand.


Read the 4 books I have by the bed:

• Veiled (Latest in a failing series I haven't quit yet)
• Carter & Lovecraft (Love the author's Johannes Cabal books)
• The Age of Ra (Humans battle the Egyptian gods)
• The Unfortunate Decisions of Dahlia Moss (I'm a sucker for Girl Detectives)

Crank out the designs in progress:

• That cuff-down thing I blogged about previously
• Instructions for the heel of that sock
• The amazing glove pattern
• The glove class based on that pattern

Make things

• Finish the top-down henley (and while I'm at it, maybe the vest that's been inches from completion for 3 years)
• Knit the gloves I started for Andrea and the fingerless gloves Robin wants
• Make limoncello. My plan was to have this ready for Giftmas; not going to happen.
• Knit this toy rabbit and these slippers.
• The felted mistletoe slippers that Mike fell in love with

Clean stuff

• The bathroom needs rigorous cleaning of all surfaces
• The basement is a disaster

Miscellaneous

• Catch up on the DVR, Hulu, Netflix, and Amazon Prime queues
• Take care of Giftmas in general (decorating, shopping)
• Get some one-on-one social time with my sister