What One Girl Knows

Finally got to see Pixar's Cars and liked it! Yes, I know that's kind of dorky. But I enjoy kid, pre-teen, and teen movies. For example: Monsters Inc. and Sky High. Not ashamed to admit it.

Considerably less enjoyable was the dollar theatre we saw Cars in -- located at the back of a shell of a Mall (with only five or so stores and a ghost-town food court). The theatre itself smelled vaguely like defrosted meat and dirty toes. Also, it was cold. But I guess I can't really complain when the movie was only 99 cents.

I'm in Kentucky for two weeks. I miss Jason! And Piper too, who I left behind to keep Jason company. The cats are with me, barricaded in my room, hissing at any approaching dogs or cats.

The weather's getting colder, which means I'm furrowing back into my knitting obsession. I'm going to sell some hats and scarves at a craft festival in Kentucky in a couple of weeks (using a tiny bit of space at my mom's booth). However. My lack of progress frustrates me. I ventured into felting bag land this summer, which was all howdy-doody. But -- I need to do something more. Like socks. Or (gasp) the inevitable sweater.

The problem is, knitting patterns remind me a little too much of high school math classes. My eyes cross. I get dizzy. My self-esteem plummets into the ground. I only knitted the felted tote bag (from pattern), because Jason's cousin Aiesha did it and told me it was easy ... and Aiesha hasn't been knitting for very long. I don't know if I could knit a sweater from a pattern.

And in related crafty news, I want a sewing machine. Specifically, a Hello Kitty sewing machine from Target. It's pink. I'm convinced that sewing would be infinitely easier than knitting. My mother used to sew matching muumuus and aloha shirts for our entire family -- though now she claims she sucked at sewing, and that it was a difficult and tedious hobby. I don't plan on sewing muumuus for anyone. Maybe lots of pajama pants though. And prairie skirts that fall to the ankle. That sort of thing.

And of course Josyane Savigneau has that right -- if only she actually wrote about McCullers. Fifty percent of Carson McCullers: A Life is spent refuting earlier biographers, especially a notorious Virginia Spencer Carr, who "seems to have interviewed every other witness to Carson McCullers' existence -- however minor or ephemeral" (Savigneau 3). This on page 3. If Savigneau spent half the energy expended on Carr's biographical downfalls to actually write about McCullers' life, it might have been an interesting book. Instead it just gave me a headache. Equally tiring was Savigneau's argument that, despite falling in love with various women throughout her life, McCullers wasn't bisexual or a lesbian.

Much of the same. Completed a short story and fifty-one poems, am submitting to three journals per week. Soon the rejections will come. Jason's already been rejected from three magazines, but he still has twenty-two submissions out (and counting). My mom came to visit us in Pittsburgh last weekend, which was nice -- she was strangely mellow, not at all upset when we didn't leave to sightsee at the crack of the dawn. We went to the Dusquesne Incline and, oddly enough, to Steak 'n Shake. She brought her chocolate lab, Smoky, and kitten Lexie with her, which made it quite a full house, but also rather nice. Piper really liked the dog company, though Ella was pissed off about having to compete with another kitten.

We're in Dunkirk tonight, until Friday night. We brought Ella and Piper, but left Rue at home for Nina to cat-sit. Jason's mother isn't doing so well. She's going to have blood tests done tomorrow morning -- she's fatigued and has a pinched nerve in her back. So we'll try to help out as much as we can.