+5 Apartment of Awesomeness

A while back I mentioned Kiah and I having found a new apartment. We signed the lease weeks ago, but the reality of it didn't really sink in until yesterday, when we got the chance to go over to the place to take measurements and pictures.

The apartment is the upper level of a duplex built in 1922. It's a little over 1000 square feet, with three bedrooms, one bath, and a sunroom. I'm paying extra to have one of the bedrooms as my office. (I didn't get a picture of it, but my office has a frosted glass window on the door like a detective agency, and I'm going to get window cling letters and spell out "WRITER" on it.)

Our landlords are empty nesters who live in the lower level, and they seem like very kind, laid back people. (The wife sings ABBA around the house, speaks with one of the best Minnesotan accents I've ever heard, and has "warned" us that she might feed us her baked goods. She asked if I'd be willing to teach her to knit. Um, only YES TOTALLY, AWESOME LADY.) The two homes on either side of this building are occupied by their family, so they can vouch for the neighbors, too. In the years I've been renting, I've never felt like part of a community, but we've already had an offer to join a neighborhood book club here. So, awesome landlords, lovely neighborhood, and oh, did I mention the apartment itself is GORGEOUS?

I mean, look at it.


LOOOK AT IIIIIIIIT.


That's where our mail will go. And this is our sunroom!


You can't really see it from the picture, but that sunroom? Freaking HUGE. 15'x7'. And it faces out over a park. Behind these trees is a totally epic playground with like three sliders. Our hands are going to build up some great calluses.


90-year-old lightswitch!


I think I'm going to love cooking in this kitchen. It has more counter space than my last three places, a built-in spice cupboard on one wall, and two huge windows facing out over the neighbors' yards. Plus, we have geektastic decorating plans for this room. Oh ho ho it's going to be fun.


You might have noticed the pink. There's a lot of it - including an eye-searing Pepto Bismol shade in my bedroom, which isn't pictured here. All of these pink rooms will be not pink when we move in, because we get to choose our own colors and the landlords paint for us. The previous tenants were three college girls who'd never gotten to decorate their own space before, and...well...yeah.


That ~*~inspirational~*~ message is on the wall in Kiah's room, which is going to be sage green. The Pepto in my bedroom will be painted over in a denimy blue, the sunroom will be a pale blue-green, and my office will be a sunny yellow.

This is where I'm going to finish my next novel.


And the one after that. And hopefully the one after that. It feels like a place we can really make into a home.

We move the second weekend of July.

The Rise of the Fort

Forts are awesome. There are many types of forts - pillow forts, box forts, forts made of the neighbor kid's building block set, bedsheet forts - and all of them are works of beauty. If you disagree, I'm gonna come right out and say it: you, sir, are wrong.

Building a fort is one of the purest joys in life, and not just for kids. As a grown-up, building a fort is an act that taps into childhood nostalgia and glee, forcing you to embrace the part of yourself that will always be six years old and think chocolate milk is ambrosia from the gods. That part of you knows that when you're in a fort, you're protected from anything, be it obnoxious little brothers, bedtime restrictions, or America's clusterfucked political system.

It's also an act of defiance. Building a fort in your living room says, "I can't afford a mortgage and my landlord won't let me paint the walls, but I am going to make this my kingdom." It also says "I do not accept society's ageist bias against fort building," which is an important statement in itself.

I myself am a lifelong fort builder. As a kid, I was a fort-building master, covering my babysitter's entire basement in forts. (My brother helped, but I was always Queen of the Fort.) Up til high school, I would occasionally turn my room into a fort, making myself a sleeping and reading nook under a canopy of Ninja Turtles bedsheets.

It was college that killed it. College killed everything fun. I tried making a fort out of my loftable dorm furniture, but it just wasn't the same.

Then, there came the 2008 presidential elections. I remember election day fondly, in part because of the feeling of history being made and the grins on the faces of all the people I passed on the way to my polling location - but mostly, I remember the fort. The election day fort was magnificent. My roommates and I had decided to host an election night party, which morphed into an election night regression party, where everyone built a fort to hide in, wearing pajamas, hugging stuffed animals while we watched the election coverage.

And drinking. There was a lot of drinking. I think that was the night I discovered my level 6 of drunkenness (which is marked by the thought, "Hey, the cat's bed looks like an awesome pillow!"). But that's beside the point.

The point is, that night, as Barack Obama was voted in as president of the United States, a new era began. The Age of the Fort.

The forts began again. They were small but classic, bedsheet tents attached to the overhead fan in my attic room. Last June, when I was preparing to move, the attic forts culminated in one glorious hybrid fort made of moving boxes and bedsheets. It was storming that night, and my friends and I went outside in our pajamas to puddle jump and wild rumpus in the rain, then we retired to the fort to hang out, sprawled across a heap of pillows like lazy royalty. That was one of the best nights of my life.

And then there was the Post-Move Fort, which was small and ineffective, mostly me figuring out the layout of my new apartment.

And the "Abandon All Hope" fort downstairs, which Kiah and I built in which to watch an episode of Supernatural we knew would kill off characters we loved. (The reasoning being: forts protect you from anything, even your own emotions. And yes, it worked.)

This weekend marked the greatest fort-building endeavor since the great Pre-Move Fort of 2009: the Easter Weekend Fort.

Pictured above: the fangirl nest.

This fort served multiple purposes. Kiah and I were re-watching an episode of Supernatural that had torn out our hearts and stomped on them, and after that, we had planned an Easter marathon of the show: all the episodes in which one Winchester or another rises from the dead. There was an obvious need for protection from emotions. The fort was also necessary in that we had a lot of leftover snacks from the most recent Drunk Star Trek Night and needed an environment in which eating nothing but snack food was not just acceptable but encouraged. This led to a wonderful weekend of vegging and TV, insulated in our fort.

And this fort...well, it made me proud. In spite of the ottoman/table/cupboard that blocked easy entry, it was one of the most functional arrangements I've had a hand in making in years. More than that, it showcased Kiah's and my ability to fort-build as a team - the whole thing went up in under half an hour, with zero arguing over placements. I think this marks a turning point in our fort-building relationship. Once we're roommates again at the end of our current leases, wherever we live will have an abundance of well-constructed forts. We may never take them down. I have a whole trunk full of cartoon themed bedsheets just waiting to become something magical.

The Age of the Fort is upon us, and my life is better for it. Embrace the fort, friends. You'll thank me later.

I don't even.

I'm going to throw some numbers at you.

$201.42.

This is how much a friend on Ravelry just donated to Doctors Without Borders (MSF) to win a custom short story from me and a gorgeous necklace from FrkHansen (who will soon be opening an Etsy shop for her jewelry, upon fear of tackling by the herd of Ravelers who now covet her work).

$425.01.

This is how much another Ravelry friend donated to MSF last night to win a custom colored pencil piece from me and another gorgeous FrkHansen necklace, which his fiance is now planning on wearing for their wedding. (425 is also about the number of times I've had to fan my hands at my face to keep from crying out of joy and gratitude since this whole thing started.)

$3,329.42.

This is the amount of money that has been donated to emergency relief funds at places like MSF and the Red Cross from the Completely Pointless and Arbitrary Group Group's charity auction in the last three days, as of the most recent update to their tally. It's not a lot when compared to the big picture of all that Haiti needs now and in the coming months, but coming from a group of this size, it's amazing.

And what's as amazing to me as the numbers is the good nature of the people I've been interacting with on this auction. Not only has there been an astonishing amount of generosity, but even in the most heated bidding wars, everyone has been friendly and supportive of one another whether they're winning or not, never losing sight of the fact that this is all for a good cause. (And of course, this being the group that it is, there have also been copious pervy jokes and tangents about selling our dogs for necklaces.)

I've spent most of this weekend staring at my computer screen, trying to put together the words for how astounded, grateful, and proud I am about what this community is doing - and how lucky I feel to be a part of it.

I still don't have those words.

I have no plans to eat anybody.

I went to a midnight showing of Where the Wild Things Are last night and couldn't go to bed when I got home because I was still processing it. I'd known going into it that I'd enjoy the movie - based on the previews, it looked laser-targeted to my generation. I just didn't know how hard this movie would hit me. It wrapped its furry, clawed digits around my heart and squeezed.

Without spoiling too much, I'll tell you this: the driving force of Where the Wild Things Are is Max. The movie operated less on suspense than on Max-level want. Major events include things like the wild rumpus in the book - seemingly low-stakes events - and yet they came across as important, because they were important to Max. His POV is so, so strong. I understand why a lot of critics aren’t liking the movie - you have to buy into the kid’s logic. You have to remember what it’s like to feel that way. If you don’t, it’s a big, weird, pretty movie about forts and monsters, wherein nothing really happens.

I remember. I've been that kid. I've shared a room with that kid, too. For me, Max read as a perfect combination of my childhood and my brother's, and because of that, I bought into his POV completely. His story is simple on the surface. The critics are right, sort of - nothing much happens, at least not from a grown-up perspective. But if you let yourself get sucked into Max's head, the emotional undertow will pull you right in.

Anyway, since it's the opening day for Wild Things, I may as well post this. I was hoping to have a pattern available today, but I've been so sleep deprived lately that doing sweater math seems akin to designing a skyscraper. So, in lieu of that, here are pictures of the finished Max hoodie.


I wore it to the movie last night, because I'm a giant dork. Also because it's quickly becoming one of my favorite things in my wardrobe. The ears have a mind of their own, but I sort of love that about them.


The weather here has been jumping back and forth between freezing and rainy and freezing and snowy, so layering this thick wool hoodie with my favorite leather coat is making walks to and form work much more bearable. I don't want to break out the winter gear just yet, and this lets me put that off a little longer.

Plus, if anyone declares a wild rumpus at the intersection, I'm already dressed for it.

'Cause I'm wanted, dead or aliiiiiiive

Last night, I had my first spin-in. It was me, Kate, the curmudgeonly muppet-dog, and season 3 of Supernatural. Kate brought her Ashford Traditional and demonstrated her absurd speed demonry on the wheel, and I got through at least 700 yards of spinning - easily my most in one sitting.

Dog tried to help. His enthusiasm was appreciated, but his methods were questionable. Mostly he just sat in the middle of whatever we were trying to do.


I got half of my stash of "Cherry" Ingeo spun up at a pretty consistent laceweight, which I'm looking forward to plying.


At 6am, after pizza, energy drinks, ice cream sundaes, and surprise cake from one of Kate's friends, we finished the season. And I finished this:


Colonial/corriedale/bamboo blend from one of Copperpot's "Sweet Jasmine" rovings, about 250 yards fingering-ish weight from 4 oz. I'm calling it Metallicar.

Good for misbehavin'

Internet, meet Mal.


Mal is a Kromski Minstrel with a walnut stain. I bought him at Detta's Spindle this Saturday.


He got the name because he's sturdy, smooth, good at what he does, and of course, so very pretty.


Plus if he gets in trouble I can call him "Sergeant" to annoy him.


Aside from the wheel, I also bought a ton of fiber to spin. From left to right: 8 oz superwash mill end wool, 1 lb superwash mill end wool, 10 oz merino in "Bitter Chocolate," and 8 oz BFL.


I've spent the last two nights spinning while watching Scrubs DVDs. The first night, I spun up and plied about 66 yards of BFL of fluffy thick and thin (mostly superbulky) yarn. It will make a fine hat.


Told you I was screwed. (Or would a better word be "humped"?)

The best thing

Bex is staying over this weekend while we put a new finish on her spinning wheel. Inspired by the stacks of moving boxes in my room, today we built a fort, using boxes as walls and cartoon bedsheets for the roof. We also made a double-and-a-half batch of Amish friendship bread, on top of our already amazing grilled cheese lunch and taco dinner. When it started to rain tonight, Bex, Kiah, Abby, and I went outside and walked around the block barefoot in our pajamas. The walk turned into a wild rumpus, as most things involving pajamas outdoors do.

So now I'm sitting in a fort in my room with Bex and Kiah, eating Amish friendship bread and drying off from the rain while Kiah colors with crayons. The cuff of the Sylvi I finally cast-on today is sitting nearby, the new Twist Collective issue is up, and a fan is blowing on me.

There are too few words for happy in the English language, guys.

Spreading the love (and by love I mean catchy apocalyptic ditty)

The next time someone asks me what I like about my MFA program, I'm showing them this video. It's a song one of my classmates wrote and performed for his final presentation in Apocalypses. I'd never seen anyone get a standing ovation on a class presentation before, but man, he earned it.

For your viewing pleasure, here is Philip Simondet performing "In Case of Apocalypse, Break Glass."



The lyrics cover pretty much every end of the world scenario we studied in class, and then some.

Some unknown but fateful day, according to Revelation
all the angels up in Heaven will sing in celebration
for the time will have finally come for the great apocalypse
and as Jesus descends from the clouds, he'll look around
and say, "Hey, what the abyss?"

Because by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide
In pursuit of more wealth
with no regard for our health
we will all destroy the earth
and poison ourselves
An asteroid will smash the earth
if the volcanoes don't scorch it first
or maybe we'll just die of thirst
I'm not quite sure which is worse
But the ozone will be gone
something will go wrong
or maybe it will be World War III
where someone drops the bomb
But by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide

And though He will find himself on the planet all alone
He'll reign God's wrath down anyway, for it has been foretold
but every bowl and seal and trumpet blast won't be heard by anyone
and the horsemen will grow bored so fast, 'cause one fourth of none is none
Forget about 144,000 - there won't be a Jew to find
and no one to take the mark of the Beast, because no one will be...left behind

Because by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide
An AI robot mutiny
will wipe out every human being
or accumulating DDT will cause infertility
and if the aliens do come to
do whatever aliens do
we will surely succumb to
some crazy alien flu
And the ozone will be gone
something will go wrong
or maybe it will be World War III
where someone drops the bomb
But by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide

Now, this next little bit doesn't really fit,
but I think it's an allegory
so when you think of it, it's really quite a bit
like the Watchmen's pirate story
If you believe Ray Kurtzweil, everything will turn out well
when man becomes man-chine
and then the nano-bots, those glorious wee robots
will magically fix everything
And according to exponential boom, this oughtta happen pretty soon
Well, I don't mean to bubble-burst
but if you ask me, I think that we
will probably run out of oil first

And then by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide
In pursuit of more wealth
with no regard for our health
we will all destroy the earth
and poison ourselves
An asteroid will smash the earth
if the volcanoes don't scorch it first
or maybe we'll just die of thirst
I'm not quite sure which is worse
An AI robot mutiny
will wipe out every human being
or accumulating DDT will cause infertility
and if the aliens do come to
do whatever aliens do
we will surely succumb to
some crazy alien flu
But the ozone will be gone
something will go wrong
or maybe it will be World War III
where someone drops the bomb
But by the time He arrives
we will already have died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide

Yes, by the time He arrives
we will all have surely died
by some genocide or suicide
spread out the whole world wide
The whole world dies


This was easily the most enjoyable class I've ever taken. Great people, fascinating topics, and lots of freedom to pursue projects of interest. I love this program.