how many monsters?

My sister-in-law has written a book. It's called The Episomology of the Mounstrous in the Middle Ages. Sure, it could have used a catchier title, but the ideas and the topic are fascinating. It inspired these thoughts (of mine), however discombobulated and uneducated as they may be. How many monsters does a culture have? What kinds? What does that say about people who pass on the tales, who tell them around bar rooms and campfires and dinner tables? What monsters are good for us, which bad? Are they vehicles for expressing our anxieties, therefore helping us unburden ourselves and live more lightly, more gently? Or do they inspire fear, amplify our worries, make them concrete and therefore somehow more powerful?

Well, dang, maybe I should read the book and find out!

I'm in a knitting frenzy. I raced to Imagiknit (I am loyal to only one yarn store) tonight at 5:45, terrified they'd already closed. You see, I was two balls into a scarf and needed the third to complete. And I had no plans for a Saturday night. What luck!

I bought the third ball...and five new ones. They were just so pretty yo ucna't leave them there. Turns out my third ball wasn't a match (half mohair! What?), so I got to bust out the fun stuff early. Yay! I started -- got nearly two feet done on 13mm needles (knits up *fast*) and I can't stop. It's so freaking beautiful I can't put it down. Oh well! You go to sleep sometime. I am a knitting junkie. Starts gorgeous yarn, become gorgeous scarf. THen again, perhaps it's time to try something new. Sweater, perhaps?

I think God wanted me to own a yarn store. I wonder if the residents of Portland need one. Bet they already have a couple. Yes. eight. Dang. What a cool town. Maybe I'll move there someday, buy a little house, and get a dog.

Life goes on

My brother is staying in Mobile, Alabama to report on the aftershocks of Hurricane Katrina. His wife is heading today to my parents house in New York, where she and their son will hunker down for the next, oh, six months or so. It's a wild time.

My parents spent the long weekend clearing out their finished basement. No mean feat, but one long overdue. My dad is thrilled. He talked about how nice it looks, with a beautiful oriental carpet in there, new lights, and a bed for Charlie. "It'll be a great big playroom for Charlie," he said. Yesterday was his birthday. 76! "The spirit of 76," he says. Dear old dad. He was a bit disappointed that he couldn't get a couch downstairs. By himself.

My sister took them out to dinner last night at Richardson's Canal House to celebrate. Sometimes, I wish I lived closer to family.

Alex is back in D.C. doing research at the Library of Congress for his book. I'm here, immersed in workplace politics. Or, really, trying to understand workplace politics. I may be wasting my time.

So that's life. Everyone is safe and sound and heading to higher ground. I made chili. I guess it's all rather delightfully boring in my neck of the woods. Hope it continues.