August 03, 2006
marginalized by the dominant wool culture

My computer sounds like it's begging to be put out of its misery, so I'll give this entry 15 minutes and then I'll go to bed.

It's been a weird couple of days. My relationship with my mother hit rock bottom on Tuesday, and I've spent the week trying to avoid her. My energies are scattered and I lack any sense of direction or drive.

Yesterday I was supposed to go to Centre Island with the Boy & Blake, so that we might celebrate the end of the Boy's time in teacher's college. (He won't be certified until October. Yay.) Scared by dire warnings from the Weather Network, we decided to avoid the killer storm. Which failed to arrive. Huge rip off.

I ended up taking the bus downtown so that I could go to Stitch n' Bitch and not feel that I had totally wasted my day. And then, of course, my dusty knowledge of Toronto streets prompted me to get off at University & Dundas, several long blocks from the store. Did I mention that I was wearing my new sexy sandals that have rubbed off progressively more skin with every use? The sun beat down, I got trapped in fenced parking lots, I talked to pigeons, and I chafed my instep raw before I even got to Spadina.

At Spadina, I found myself steps away from New Kee Hong BBQ, the Buddhist restaurant with the most satisfying vegetarian dishes I have ever eaten. Thinking that this was providence, I went inside and let the nice man put a bunch of stuff on my plate. I'm not exaggerating; I could only identify about 1/4 of the items on my plate, and a good many of those were prepared in unfamiliar ways. But it was mostly delicious, and the soup & tea were included, so I relaxed totally and gave myself over to the unknown. Not a usual thing for me, and a thing impossible to fathom before I met the Boy. He's been a good influence.

I took my leftovers in hand and commenced getting lost in Kensington Market. This is my usual relationship to Kensington Market, so I wasn't too upset. My action plan when I'm alone in the Market is to walk until I find my street, or ask friendly storekeepers until I hit my target. Works pretty well; Kensington isn't that large and the people are used to lost or confused or just stoned queries.

Lettuce Knit was quiet when I arrived (only 2 or 3 people), and I had the interesting vantagepoint of watching the night develop with each new person. Denny came with her son (who I kept calling Caius in my head) and we tried to keep him amused until his dad could pick him up (I contributed by emphasizing the grossness of my unknown food in order to downplay the strangeness of his dinner sushi). Amy arrived with I{heart}Knitty buttons (yay!) and I got to whore them around as if I had something to do with the magazine (hee). I spent a long time talking to Michelle NotAnArtist, and the two of us ended up doing a beer run with Mel when public interest became acute.

me: "Oh! I just had a thought!"
m.noa: "Was it about beer?"

There's something about doing a beer run for hot, sweaty knitters that cracked me up. Of course, I was less tickled when I ran into Casey at the liquor store. Figures that I get to meet up with marginal characters from my past when I'm wearing a ragged dress, sporting pool hair, & loaded down with 2 six-packs that need to go to thirsty knitterati. It's certainly not the way I picture running into people on the street.

And then, after we returned to LK and as I was drinking my second beer, the storm came. By the time I staggered to the Spadina streetcar with 4 other knitsters, the rain that had threatened my day on the Island was finally pouring down. But by then I was too buzzed on conversation, beer, and yes knitting, to care much. That place, Stacy? I think I found it.

"Can you call me every day to tell me these things?" - amy

(My grand unconcern fizzled out spectacularly when I arrived to an empty bus terminal at midnight. It was a real long 10 minutes of prayer before the Boy arrived to save me from the terrors of the B-ton night.)

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 8/03/2006 03:26:00 p.m.

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*