I cannot remember when I last felt this relaxed. Not that a sane person would call me relaxed.

I’m on vacation for only a week; and at the end of the week I turn 49. My joy is not unmitigated.

Spring. Finally. Maybe.

Five weeks after the false hope of March, it finally warmed up enough to get out on my bike and flap my love-handles in the wind. I work a loose shirt to protect the innocent. This was a marvelously perfect day for biking. Not too cool, not too warm. Steady, but not too insistent breeze. Light traffic.

Today will probably be the best day Brooklyn will have all year. Everybody was out. People on bikes—some cute guys, too— everywhere. McCarran Park, between Greenpoint and Williamsburgh, was packed, as were the sidewalk tables at the restaurant on Smith St.

Feather & Fan Update

I’m ⁷/₈ through round 165. This sounds like a lot, but that’s only 72% of the total stitches. Only twenty-five more rounds, mostly plain knitting until I get to the crocheted cast-off, which will be the end of me.

I finished a scarf, too, since we last met. I’ll take pictures eventually.

Confession

Sometimes blogging seems like Work. Some days at Work are 90% e-mail.

In Other News

• We’re having a home office installed tomorrow. We had to move everything out of the office in preparation. It seems quite large now, but the living room is cramped.
• A table, two good-quality bookcases, a mirror and a black plastic cylindrical trash-can went out to the curb to make way for the new furniture. All found homes, good ones I hope. The trash can went first—odd, since it was the cheapest thing out there. The last to go was the six-foot bookcase. I was surprised, How often do you find a six-foot, maple-veneer, mahogany-finish bookcase in excellent condition with all the shelves on the street FOR FREE?
• My elder sister turned 50 today. This is not a consolation to me. I did remember to call her. Eventually.
• I warned my younger sister that in the two years after I turn 50 I am unlikely to forget that she is relatively right behind me, so she should be nice to both my older sister and me.
• I have realized that my the vacation I had (vaguely) planned out of the country next year to avoid spending my 50^th with anyone but J will probably not happen. We have a major system conversion due at the end of April next year at work.
• Of the tens of people I saw biking today, I was one of the four oldest. I’m almost certain the other three are gay. And they looked pretty good. I’ve got some work ahead of me.

There are six different projects on this table. Most are new.

Work has been time-consuming, to put it generously. It has also sucked out most of my sociability and creativity. Well—the sociability has always been suspect and the creativity has been harnessed into massive system redesign, business requirements document (BDR) review and system conversion testing. The work has a purpose—food on the table and liquor on the bar—but it does take the thrill out of sitting down at the Mac after work for anything other than a few mindless internet games. Netflick and TV have dominated, though. I haven’t really cooked since before Thanksgiving. I’m just tired.

J made macaroni and cheese for dinner tonight. Fully from scratch. Good.

The knitting has, as you can see, resumed. Not that it came to a total halt.

This kid mohair/silk scarf that you see here was begun right after we got back from Hudson. It took me a while to come up with a suitable pattern that flattered that yarn on the front and the reverse. It took a while and I think I got there. Only one hitch. It feels like fiberglass on my neck. And J’s neck, and I’m sure it will feel the same on the originally intended recipient’s neck. Seriously disliking mohair now.

Since then, I’ve made several false starts on a hat, ending up with the purple thing in the upper right of the top photo. Done a bit of swatching for another whippet sweater: that’s what the lavender yarn is for. Started a scarf for a holiday present for J’s sister. Spent a bit of time swatching to no end.

J took me to see And the Little Dog Laughed on Broadway Friday night. Very funny. Julie White is superb and makes the show. As does the brief moment of male nudity. Who knew Johnny was so well hung?

So I bought bike pants and a torso-covering-thing. This is the best shot you’ll get. Please remember that I’m short and even my own camera is treacherous.

It was one of the shorter weekends. I actually did things. Saturday I went out to buy bike pants—tights, let’s be honest—and other cool weather gear to extend the cycling season. Then I went out for an easy and incredibly fast ride out to Gerritsen Beach and an incredibly grueling grind back into a substantial headwind. I think the pants helped. 2:05. Or maybe I was just trying not to be seen in one place too long.

Secretly I hope that the pants flatter my butt and passing motorists think, “Wow, I wish my butt looked that good!” but somehow I doubt it.

Then I finished the laundry I started before I left. And then we walked to dinner at Alma (Columbia & Degraw) and walked home and watched the first Pirates of the Caribbean.

Friday night we watched The Brothers Grimm. Confused, at best.

Sunday, it was an excursion to Fairway in Red Hook. I can’t tell you what we spent, but let’s just say we shouldn’t have to buy more than milk and veggies for awhile. Then I went for a bike ride. It was only an hour-forty, but after the ride of the day before my calves were cramping and I did just pick the right direction out —Maspeth & Long Island City—to fight the wind on the way back again. Cold & sweating. After showering I made braciole and we had dinner and we watched something on TV.

J made me biscotti.

Somewhere in there I also passed the 54% mark on Feather & Fan.

Diminishing Yarn Cake

I also started a new hat on the subway out of leftovers of Debbie Bliss baby cashmere.

Why F&F is a good cool weather project.

Yes, I can still sit cross-legged with my feet tucked under.

Still listening to The Decembrists: The Crane Wife

So to prove I’m gay, or overpaid, and to restock my supply of sweaters without having to knit them, I went to Gerry’s on Bleeker—the sales guy was cute and tolerant of my trying on every sweater in the store and leaving it rumpled on the chair next to the counter—he told me to. After a while he started bring sweaters to me so I’d leave the others alone.

Sidetracked. Like I said, I went to Gerry’s on Bleeker an bought two sweaters that I could never knit and were not at all cheap. One was a brown Converse sweater by John Varvatos with a chunky zipper up the front. Young, but not ridiculous. This will be the inspiration for every sweater I ever knit for myself, should I ever do so. Slightly ribbed, which flatters my smallness, without making my shoulders look too narrow, as did half the sweaters in the shop. Raglan sleeves are not my friends. Neither are bright stripes across my middle. The other was an inside-out grey-ish, ribby, v-neck by NSF. Cute. I’d definitely lust after a (thin young) man in this sweater. Don’t ask what I paid.

In PTown last summer I saw a cashmere sweater over which I have kicked myself for not buying. I priced the yarn afterwards: 50% more to do it from scratch and months of labor, and I’d screw it up anyway.

iTunes

Apple upgraded iTunes and I’ve spend much of the last two days incorporating the new format into my life. I’ve scanned album covers (for private use only). I’ve confirmed that much of my music is typical of a gay man in his forties. I’ve bought new music.

Thirty seconds is not enough time to decide if one likes a piece of music enough to buy it.

On one hand, Apple should credit you when you buy an album after having bought a song or two from the album. On the other hand, I spend more for espresso. Or sweaters.

Old Music

On the subject of my music collection, there is too much Pet Shop Boys and I am tired of Jimmy Somerville. Early Madonna grates too. Anybody remember the soundtrack from The Lostboys? Keifer used to be so cute.

Erasure is so lame, but I’m listening to them. I’m so old.

I bet I’m not the only one who’s disappointed.