O is for Olympics

In case you didn't figure that out. I believe I am way behind the ABC-along at this point, but I'll get around to it. Ravelympics Sweater = the letter O.

Today I'd like to talk about something besides crafts. Although to appease you, I really did finish the quilt top. I am impressed that despite the late hours and crazy emotions of this thing, most of the points line up. The ones that don't, bother me not at all. This isn't how I envisioned it, exactly, but it's still cute and I am definitely going to buy some flannel soon, so I can make it into a baby quilt.


I lied. This post is mostly about crafts after all. Here's a picture of the cashmere stole, too, for good measure. Too bad it hasn't grown much- my hands still hurt from Ravelympics.


I also would like to comment that for years I have evaded the whole shoe fascination. Yes, I owned plenty of pairs of shoes. But most were cheap, or inherited. And there were a lot of them because of the variety of purposes. Sneakers, summer sandals, SAS comfort sandals (pretty and mundane), plus heels for dress-up, shoes to wear with suits, shoes to wear with jeans and slacks, lots of loafers, and of course a few awesome cool colored shoes (pink and purple, red, red, red, RED). OK, so maybe I've always enjoyed shoes. What I am meaning, more, is that shoes were a means to an end, and I simply didn't buy them for much money. My adorable little red German shoes with embroidered flowers on them, great with jeans and never to be worn for long jaunts (too little padding in the sole). Silver or black strappy heels to wear to weddings and holiday parties. They were shoes with purpose. And almost all of them were given away or trashed when I started having serious foot pain and eventually went into orthotics. So sue me, I chose comfort. I threw away all of my heels but for the absolutely most comfortable, and I only ever wear them at work where I sit the vast majority of the day. I kept the loafers, but most of them are old and decrepit. Hush Puppies, my shoe of choice in grad school, apparently aren't very sturdy. But I realized the other day that in my wild fit of pique I threw out every black heel I owned. And a girl needs black heels. So I wandered through Georgetown the other day, when the Foggy Bottom metro was having one of its "let's just not have escalators" days. And I tried on a few pairs of shoes at a boutique-y store which I had read about on Yelp. And I might have bought a pair of quilted patent leather kitten heels(marked down to a completely reasonable price... and something like 1/5th of retail):


I also tried on these incredibly hot shoes. And they weren't nearly as expensive in Georgetown as that Saks price. But still hundreds and hundreds away from my budget. Someday I'll have events to go to that could possibly justify those shoes. In the meantime, I think I'll keep playing around with my kitten heels, and maybe once in a while scope out the clearance racks at the fancy shmancy stores. I'm still not ready to pay for Jimmy Choos or Manolos, and I still don't think my feet could take insane stilettos. But those 4 and 3/4 inch hot red heels were a breeze- in a shoe that well made and that well fitting, it was like walking on air. And as much as I love my super expensive comfort shoes, if I'm going to be spending that much money, I deserve to look fine, too.

Because I am a Muppet girl- N is for Nationalism

I found these recently, and thought you might enjoy as well.






(in case you can't tell... it's a patriotic cat)

M is for Music

Of all sorts.













I can't believe I only have one photo of my own guitar (the teal one I'm holding above). I have been playing guitar on and off (mostly off) since 3rd grade... and that's not even my only guitar.

I am not a huge photographer, but I am usually the one behind the camera in my group of friends. I am sad I have no photos of the Shabbat dinners that turn into sing-alongs, or singing with my roommates through the years. I don't have any photos of singing at camp, or my guitar lessons, or any proof at all that I used to play the saxophone and the bells.

The iPod is a fitting ending to a view of my music, however. That little device has changed my life. I'm on iPod number two now, and they are my tie to modern music, to current pop and to my old favorites Joni Mitchell and Dylan. I use it for my running podcasts for Couch to 5k, and I use it to keep myself sane when the world around me is too chaotic. It's my perfect device, giving me music whenever I need it. And everyone needs music in their life.

L is for Love

If I have a failing, it's that I love overmuch. Maybe not overmuch. I think the problem may be that I use language of love to excess. When I like someone? I love them! When I tell someone I love them, it can't be once or twice but I have to say it a million times. Like Tourette's of the excessively emotive. I say love often, but I mean it always. I never take it back, though sometimes I have to revise what I mean by this shortest and longest four-letter word. My love is all-encompassing of the things and people that make me happy, and some that don't, too. I shan't bore you with them all, but perhaps my Flickr can provide a few examples.

I loved my cat, Grizabella. She was a doll, a ball of fluff who fit in the palm of my hand at 5 or 6 when I received her for a birthday. She grew up nice and pleasant, until the painter's dog ran her up a tree and she came down in the night, most likely incurring some severe injuries. We never knew, but she got increasingly bitter and mean after that- though she always was still good to me. She loved me back, even in her arthritic middle age before she ... well, let's not discuss the end of the story. I did love her.


Apparently about 15 images in my Flickr pop up if you do a search for "love." There's this one, because I "love big beaks":


And this one, "Love Enduring" which shows two strangers of a certain age who have obviously not lost their spark:


My coffee table is well loved, and beginning to show the wear as a result. I'm sure I've mentioned it before since I built it with my dear friend Sharyn, and it has served me beautifully ever since. And it has baskets for YARN.


Although I've since had the bumper repainted (someone rear-ended my car in a metro parking lot last year), I need to get another of these bumper stickers:


There are some yarn photos, and some knitting photos, and one where I commented on my love for crazy 80s shirts (I was in the crazy 80s in the photo, however). And there's probably a few more, one of which might feature the person I say "I love you" to more often than any other.

I just need to say it more often to my mom and dad. I can't believe they've escaped the general love-fest. This points to my having plenty more than one failing (loving overmuch not even being a particularly representative one), but maybe the next letter in the "ABC-Along" will shed some light on more interesting topics, or at least ones easier to put into photograph format without embarrassing the ones I love or you, dear reader! It should be fairly obvious at this point that I probably love you, too, simply for stopping by.

K is for

Kin?
Kindred spirits?
Kindling?
Kindness?
Kings?
Krispy Kreme?

NO! Silly rabbit! K is for KNITTING!

J is for

J is one of my favorite letters. It starts such great words: jubilant, joyous, java, jokes, jeans, jammies.

But it's my absolute favorite letter of all because it is the first letter of my own name (and yes, Mikaiya is just a handle). I am named after my father's father, Grandpa Jack, who died when my father was just a teenager. My initials spell it out... JAC. I started out as Jenny (and yes, now I'll glare if you try that one now). Jen for the longest time. In my professional life, I'm now a Jennifer. I switched in college, but especially when I was in grad school in the Midwest- they always misheard me as saying "Jan" which is NOT my name. Jennifer is a lot harder to mis-hear.

I find it interesting that when I worked in a more diverse environment, everyone used my full name... now I'm surrounded by American citizens, it's back to Jen. I don't really mind one way or another (though I always write out Jennifer nowadays). I don't have many good old photos of me, since my parents still have my old photo albums. But here's a few, mostly for entertainment value.

On the beach with Mom, around 4-5 months old:


First birthday:


Heading to the Honors Ball (freshman year of college, so 1999-2000?)

(not a bad photo, Alex, if you read this blog...)

Dancing in Jerusalem in January 2001


Unbelievable that Israel has hit 60. Another one from my trip, at the Kotel:


I rock the flared cords and apparently never grew out of flannel.

There you go. J is for Jen.

I is for Indiana

I can't believe it took me so long to think of an I word for the ABC-Along. It's practically a gimme.

I moved from New Hampshire to Maryland when I was 15. I lived there until I graduated from college, and moved to INDIANA. For grad school at IU (in Bloomington). Admittedly, I was not meant to be a professor, and I left with a master's and came back to Maryland, and now Virginia, to be a corporate chickie. Two years was enough for me, but I will never regret the wonderful people I met out in the midwest. And of course, Bloomington was my introduction to food from all over the world, especially INDIAN (another I).

Here's a few pictures to prove it.
Indianapolis


Talking philosophy in Abby-upstairs' apartment (Abby was, oddly enough, my upstairs neighbor)


A typical living room scene from grad school, including library videos/books, the book I taught out of for freshman comp, a little light literary theory, and chocolate


I had a 2br, because I needed my study NOT to be in the bedroom. It was also my sewing room

H is for Home.

Ignore the fact that my apartment went from looking like I just moved in... to looking just messy. It's still halfway in between, though I better tidy like crazy shortly, since my mother is coming up for a visit! These photos are a bit old already, but they do show my typical choices- wine rack is already on the wall, but I haven't hung the mirror or any other art. Heh. My sofa will not be delivered until June, so I am living on wooden chairs. Conveniently I can see the TV from bed, so long as I have my glasses on.

A quick tour of my messy but delightful efficiency:












The view from my balcony:

G is for Grins: a pictoral.

All my favorite people grin lots.

This one, of course:


Dea, who is coming out this weekend to visit from med school in Detroit:


Kevin, one of my four boys from college:


Eric and Sharyn at her wedding:


After my kid sister's six years of college, you bet we're all grinning in this photo (just kidding, kiddo):


Former Roommie, champion grinner:


Now I am caught up, and I promise something a bit more unique for H. And it won't even be Hanami (though the temptation is strong!)

F is for

dysFunctional... just kidding! I was out of the loop, what with the moving/computer death thing. But I wanted to catch up a bit.

F is, of course, for family. And especially, my father. I feature my mom and sister on occasion here, and I love them dearly... but you know how it is with a girl and her dad. He's the coolest man I've ever known.

Fun photos of my father:

On the fake safari he said was almost as good as his real one:


Dressed up- my Dad looks great in a tux:


Dad taught me how to boogie:


My father is the youngest of four (sadly, three living) brothers:


Hanging out in Vegas with the fish:


Mustache on or off, this is my favorite kind of Dad photo- with Mom, and a Hawaiian shirt:


F is for flamingos, too- and my dad is a huge fan. Well, actually not so much, but it's been a family in-joke since forever!


The only thing wrong with these photos? He's not smiling enough. You can tell my Dad a mile away from his allergy cough (it's loud) and his infectious smile and laugh. I can't say as to the quality of his jokes, but they're great in quantity!

E is for Exploring

I like finding new and interesting places, and I like taking vacations to random places. It always ends up going well, though there's usually a scary bit. Like when I explored a borie in Provence, in the middle of a multi-hour hike in the middle of nowhere, after taking a bus out of Aix-en-Provence to a random small town. So small the bus driver was very concerned that I didn't mean to go there- and was entirely surprised that I answered his concerns in French, and with determination. I did the hike, and did get pretty badly lost. But I got to run along the TGV track, walk through olive groves gnarled and green. They look so much like vineyards, only heartier and more earth-bound. This is my only proof of the whole exploration expedition- one lousy photo of a borie. It was entirely worth it. And I didn't miss my bus back, miraculously- it wasn't quite warm enough to sleep outside in the olive groves.


More recently, I decided to do a little exploring of my own hometown. I was in training last week, and got out early enough to really enjoy the sunlight. I wandered up towards the National Mall, visited the West Wing of the National Gallery of Art, and finally explored a bit more of the American Art Museum. I couldn't take photos of the amazing hiphop exhibit at the Portrait Gallery, and I never did get to see Colbert's portrait (yet), but it was still a lot of fun playing tourist on the way home.

First the Mall


And a turn to the right, to view the Capital Building. I no longer see it as I leave work every day, so it was bittersweet to pass it every day I was in training. I miss that view.


One of my favorite views, heading towards Gallery Place/Chinatown


In part because my favorite theatre is on the way:


But before you get to Indiana Plaza and Gallery Place, you hit the National Gallery of Art's West Wing. My favorite, since I'm a sucker for the Impressionists. I can't help it, I'm a francophile and I love light. I found some new loves, though. Nydia, the Blind Girl of Pompeii


And a reading girl


Entirely new to me was the American Art Museum. I've been inside the Portrait Gallery quite a bit lately, since I'm in love with the Kogod Courtyard, but I hadn't checked out the rest of the museum. Please do, if you're here in DC. It's fantastic. Again, the best and most interesting stuff can't be photographed, but here's a taste:




And finally, the Courtyard. I could knit here happily forever.