Idle Questions of a Fevered Brain

While I await the return of my film (yes, film) from the lab so that I can do a proper post about this weekend's rip-snorting good time in Austin at The Knitting Nest, I offer the following points to ponder, transcribed from a page written in a shaky hand at 30,000 feet somewhere over Arkansas.

Q. If I were going to take down an entire jet plane with something in my knitting bag, what would be the best thing to use?

1. Single metal dpn (fuchsia, US size 2) from Boye. (Have never, that I can recall, purchased set of fuchsia needles in any size.)
   
2. 4-foot tape measure shaped like laughing sheep. (Squee, etc.)
   
3. Scrap of paper with mysterious note in pencil to "yo2, k2tog, k6 at next m, dammit."
   
4. Small plastic box containing eight two-inch-long T-pins for lace blocking demonstration.
   

(The TSA's answer is number four, because that's what they confiscated at the O'Hare security checkpoint.)

Q. Which of these is incompatible with lace knitting?

1. Eating a BBQ Breakfast Taco from Salt Lick.
2. Waiting for next available urinal in crowded airport men's room.
3. Looking badass while seated at airport sports bar.
4. Avoiding the attention of woman at Gate 17 who wants to talk to somebody about the emotional and gastrointestinal consequences of her Pomeranian's separation anxiety.
   
5. All of the above.

Q. Which of the following is the best way to cope with the following announcement from the cockpit: "Folks, I need everyone including the flight attendants to be seated immediately, because we're heading into atmospheric conditions I haven't seen in twenty-five years of flying."

1. Grip both armrests very firmly in order to hold the plane up in the air.
2. Promise the Almighty Whatever Is Out There that if flight lands successfully, you will stop screening phone calls from Auntie Helen.
3. Cast on Sharon Miller's Princess Shawl since it's something you've always said you'd like to knit before you die.

Instead...

...of a real post, today I present a still life entitled, This Is Why I Am Not Giving You a Real Post Today.



The book deadline approacheth. Apparently there have been pre-orders, and not all of them are my mother, so I have to finish on time. Above you can see seven (out of seventy-five*) inked cartoons on the drawing table, each awaiting the finishing touches of watercolor wash as needed.

This isn't the sum total of my progress, of course. It's just that I'm having trouble sending the other finished panels to Interweave because once they go into print I can never, ever change them.

That's been the biggest surprise of this whole process–the realization that at some point, final art is final.

It's enough to make my hands shake, so I try not to think about it. Nonetheless, my usual creepy-crawly line may look a little creepy-crawlier when the book is published.

*Somebody asked whether the book will be new material or stuff from the blog. Both. Some of the cartoons will have appeared here, but the majority are previously unpublished and all but one will be completely re-drawn. Some essays will incorporate material I've used before but, again, I'm reworking everything and much is brand new. OhgodIneedadrink.

Books Old and New

Old Book

The other day I was poking around the neighborhood charity shop and ran across a period piece that absolutely had to join my collection of vintage and historical cookbooks–particularly as it cost all of $1. Take a look at this.



It was published by Doubleday in 1965. In spite of the title, Saucepans and the Single Girl wasn't intended as a novelty. The writing is brisk and witty, and though the recipes are inevitably dated, they're eminently practical. This book was meant to serve as a practical guide for a single working woman (who is always referred to as a "girl") who needed to feed herself, the roommate it was assumed she would have, and the string of bachelors she would need to cook for until one of them knuckled under and proposed marriage.

I've been fascinated with old cookbooks and domestic guides for years. I own several linear feet of them, but most date from well before 1950. This one I find particularly striking because although it's relatively recent, the world it evokes seems as remote as that in which Eliza Action wrote Modern Cookery for Private Families in 1845.

The authors–former roomies who make it clear early on that they are both now married–make several explicit assumptions, most of them depressing.

For example:

• A woman–erm, girl–with a college degree will only find employment in the business world doing support or secretarial work. Her male classmates, however, will become junior executives.
  
  
• She will necessarily earn less than men her age. While she should be expected to be treated to dinners out, she will only be able to afford to entertain at home.
  
  
• When she marries, she will give up her career.
  
  
• Marriage is a girl's sole alternative to lonely poverty.

To my mind, the most fascinating chapter is "Pandora's Box," one of the few not concerned with cooking for dates. It's about food to be shared exclusively with groups of other women. Only when men are absent, say the authors, can women truly relax and enjoy their food:

Unfortunately, the strange mores of our society dictate that a male may snarl and slaver over his food and come back for thirds, but let a hungry girl pick up her fork with a little honest gusto and it's, "My, but aren't we putting on a little weight?"

And yet the girls don't seem to consider themselves downtrodden, trapped or otherwise limited by gender. On the contrary, they take frequent swipes at the previous generation of women–so much less liberated–who don't drink or smoke but do bake cookies and, perish the thought, knit. Poor things.

I closed the book thinking, How far we've come. And haven't.

New Books

I am extremely excited that pre-orders have just opened for two upcoming titles from Interweave Press. One of them is Knit So Fine, co-authored by my friend Carol.



That's her design on the cover. I think it's dreamy. Just like Carol.

This is the other one.



Amazon pre-orders haven't opened yet, but orders through Interweave Press have.

So I suppose I should finish writing it.