Best Quote I Heard All Day
Most turkeys taste better the day after; my mother's tasted better the day before.—Rita Rudner

My mother is smart—she eats her holiday meals at my house.

God Bless Us, Everyone
Yeah, it’s a bit early for my Tiny Tim routine but I would like to speak to the amazing comments from my last entry before I shift the mood back, as it were, to fiber.

When I wrote that little piece on manic-depression, I did so primarily because I was pissed off once again at the neverending lack of legitimacy accorded mental illness by our half-assed health system.

I’ve never made any bones about being manic-depressive. In fact, I’m almost sure I’ve mentioned my disorder during the two-and-a-half years that I’ve been writing my blog. No, I don’t go around with the Scarlet MD on my chest. I don’t put it on my résumé. But I don’t hide IT (or the fact that I dye my hair blonde either). Bravery has nothing to do with it—I just don’t care whether people think there’s something “wrong” with me or not.

Thank you all for coming forward and writing about your own situations. Cathartic, isn’t it? And a little scary, I’m sure. But not only have you helped me, you’ve helped each other. Every story, every personal experience, is gold to another person. Incidentally, there is an excellent online resource for manic-depression—The Pendulum. I highly recommend it.

And I was truly gratified to see so many lurkers commenting. I wish they would come out of the shadows more often. After all, it’s not all about me writing—it’s about everyone writing. Contrary to popular belief, I welcome comments. As long as the comments aren’t about puling puppies, warshcloths, or any topic that has a KnitDweeb smell to it.

Paper Barf
That’s what Knitter’s is this issue. At least, if you’ve checked out The Gall-ery. I am not buying this issue. In fact, I haven’t bought an issue since the one with the Lavold vest in it, whenever that was. I refuse to put money in the X-men’s pockets. And this may extend to attending Stitches, although Elly so looks forward to it, I don’t have the heart to say no.

Joe will review the issue because the dope plans on buying it. I say, just look at the pictures on line. Since Knitter’s seldom publishes technical articles anymore, I’m not concerned about missing anything. Although I do so miss Alexis’s overblown, hyperbole-laden prose. And Dr. Perry’s droning anecdotes about knitting and whatever.

That’s the kind of writing you see in freshman English 101.

The Crabbies
I may have to start my own awards for the year’s worst design(s) in a magazine. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, there are a number of category possibilities. Yeah, I know. The sock scarf is a clear nominee. And if you have a favorite, feel free to let me know. I don’t read Cast On but I did see the last cover.

More on this in the weekend post. I’ll be setting up categories with nominees and then YOU all will vote. Heh. Could be almost as much fun as the Christmas Crapalong.

Fiber TrashTalk
The fugly wool/hemp gansey remake is out, the China vest from Cheryl Oberle’s Folk Vests is in. I’d have a picture for you but my daughter Corinne borrowed my digital camera the other day and hasn’t brought it back.

Elly gave me the yarn for this vest last Christmas—it’s Rauma 3tr Strikkegarn, which she got from Nordic FiberArts. She had already made the vest and raved about the yarn and the incredible color saturation of the red. She’s right. This red is unbelievable.

Spinning continues on the Wensleydale. I have only a half-pound left to spin. The rest is either plied and skeined, plied and sitting on a bobbin, or singles waiting to be plied. Mammy will never know how much fucking work this has been. And I hope she enjoys knitting with it.

Flip Me the Bird, Johnny
John and I are team-cooking on Thursday, Elly and brother Rich are coming to eat. The kids are both out of state to their respective significant other’s parents’ houses.

May you all have a good Thanksgiving. And if you’re from elsewhere, may your Thursday be the day before Friday, which is a rare and handy thing.