I’m heading to bed after spending the evening on the couch alternating between dozing with a fever and sniffling with a sore throat. There’s a bug going around the office and it seems to have settled with me today. Bad bug! Weekends aren’t for being sick! Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning!

But, in the interest of blog fodder, I offer you a link to this sweater, now on its recipient.

Dear Mets,

I can’t be at the game every night for the rest of the season cheering you to victory. I know it helped on Thursday, but it’s expensive to travel to Atlanta, Chicago, and New York.

So, please get your acts together.

I offer in my absence some helpful advice:

Fielders, watch the ball into your glove. Use two hands. It’s not necessary to fall over to catch a ball, nor is it necessary to jump, nor to dive, nor to catch it behind your head. Yes, occasionally these actions are called for, but they have far more impressive power when used infrequently and are pulled out of the bag of tricks only in rare instances. Don’t get flustered if it takes you longer than you want to pick up the ball. We’d rather keep the runner from advancing than to throw away the ball and give them extra bases wrapped up in pretty paper.

Pitchers, take a deep breath and just throw the ball. Don’t overthink it. Don’t try to finesse it or place it. Trust that the players surrounding you are going to do their job and don’t be afraid to actually throw over the plate (although if you could limit what’s thrown in the sweet spot, we wouldn’t object). Do NOT and I repeat do NOT intentionally walk people; I don’t care who’s up to bat next, it will just end in disappointment.

Batters, don’t swing at things near your chin or at your toes. Keep your eyes on the ball. If you think it’s a ball, you should be watching it into the catcher’s mitt. Keep the weight on your back foot, and try not to get these ridiculously wide stances — they just limit your ability to pivot and put power behind your bat. Don’t bunt it back to the pitcher. Know when a walk is as good as a hit. You don’t need to hit it out of the park; a line drive up the middle on the ground is really where it’s at. Also, don’t forget, as one MLB player did in a YouTube video I recently saw, that the strike zone extends from your knees to the letters on your jersey. I don’t want to see anyone grumbling because an umpire opted to enforce the upper portion of the strike zone. RUN IT OUT.

Runners, listen to your base coaches. Watch where the ball is going. Don’t slide into first. And if you get picked off first base, don’t come crying to me for sympathy.

Everyone, keep your heads in the game. Cheer on your fellow players. Offer an encouraging word to someone who’s down and accept those that your teammates give to you. Stretch before the game. Ice afterwards. Apply tape and heat wraps liberally and feel free to get a massage if you think it will help.

Know that I’m here for you. If I could afford it, I’d be there for you. If it would help, I’d be happy to come sit on the bench and remind you of these helpful hints in person.

Best wishes over the next eight games.

Truly,

sprite

D.C. offers many things, but apple trees are not, to my knowledge amongst them. (Okay, the National Arboretum or the Botanical Gardens may have a tree or two, but I bet they wouldn’t like it if I started harvesting them…)

So on Labor Day, Rudi, Sarah, and I hopped in the car for a road trip. We headed north along the Potomac to Poolesville, a farm community and the bucolic location of Homestead Farm. (more…)

It’s Thursday again. How does that happen? Wasn’t it just Sunday? I remember Sunday. Regardless, the computer informs me quite emphatically that it is Thursday, and who am I to argue? Therefore it’s time to share three beautiful things from the last week:

1. After jazz in the Sculpture Garden (a barely rainy night made for a practically deserted concert), we move a few blocks over for some pizza. I sit at a table, surrounded by my favorite D.C. folks, and listen as the conversation swirls around me, thinking how lucky I am to have found so many smart friends. There are nine of us, so mostly the discussions happen between three or four at a time, but the entire table comes together about an article comparing the Democrats of the Obama era and those of Jefferson’s day.

2. We ride home after the Mets game, cutting across to the Mall at Fourth and continuing its length for nearly 20 blocks. The Capitol is at my back as we wrestle with the freshly laid pea stone. We pass a silent row of Smithsonians and glimpse airplanes. We pedal past the Washington Monument, blaring with overly bright spotlights. The WWII Memorial burbles on, its fountain behind granite pillars. The Reflecting Pond sits peaceful, reflecting only the dark night sky. We leave the Mall behind just before the hauntingly beautiful Lincoln Memorial and head north toward home.

3. A nearly full moon rises as we sit at Starbucks enjoying the first cool air of the day.

I like color. It still surprises me that some people never manage to break out of the monochromatic prison they find themselves in — particularly in the city.

Today’s wardrobe theme was green — green shirt, green hat, green sweater, green necklace, and green socks — none of them the same green, of course.

Looking at my socks made me realize that I don’t think I ever shared them with you. I mean, I shared them in various states of progress, but never as a finished pair.

Ta da!

They’re Ann Budd’s Lace Cuff Anklets from Favorite Socks knit in some of the very first yarn Chewy Spaghetti ever dyed. I bought it from her off eBay, when, I believe, she was trying to get rid of the early skeins made from a different base than her subsequent yarns. The colorway is Lush, which it is — practically glow-in-the-dark neon, in fact. The interplay of the various greens kept my needles flying, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with a variegated color before. The yarn itself was a very loose ply, which made it very splitty with practically ever needle I used (US0, 1, 2, 3, and 4, once all was said and done). But do keep in mind, as I said before, this was a discontinued base, so I wouldn’t judge the current crop of Chewy Spaghetti yarns on this experience.

You may notice that the sock looks a bit tight. It is. The original pattern called for DK weight and this is light fingering, and for whatever bone-headed reason I can’t recall anymore, I decided to knit the pattern as written. I believe it’s a four stitch repeat, so it’s not like it would have been hard to cast on more stitches.

Realizing during the first cuff that I was going to need more room, I did think to increase a few stitches, but not enough to make the stockinette portion quite large enough. And I may have factored that in when knitting the second sock and may have added four extra stitches right from the start. But given the foot of the sock has a gauge of 11 stitches per inch, it just felt like they went on forever — and I was glad to finally get them off the needles last month.

But I did accomplish two things with these socks: a pair for St. Patrick’s Day and a girly pair of cuffed socks. They look particularly nice with Mary Janes, both these and the black leather ones I wore with them today.

Sorry I’m a bit late with this post this morning. Usually I try to queue them up Sunday night, but I had such a full, enjoyable weekend that I hardly had time to sit at the computer, let alone to look for videos.

Here’s a Barenaked Ladies video with lots of pop culture references for you to find: