On this lovely spring Saturday, I'm in Omaha for an impromptu all-sibling rally to celebrate our dad's 80th. The fact that my perpetually boyish pops is 80 (four score! 4/5 of a century!) is surreal, as is the notion that we wisps of children are well into middle age. Age and maturity are separate tracks, apparently.
We're having lots of laughs, and tacos, and wandering the landscape of malls, bars and highways that director Alexander Payne has depicted with hyper-clarity in his movies About Schmidt
. Thank you, Alexander Payne! You got it right, all of it. If you need any extras, let us know. We have Gardiners and Framptons of all ages standing by, ready to represent whatever distopian and/or utopian vision of Nebraska you have in mind. Plaid shirts, tomato beers, loose meat sandwiches--we got this.
The plane ride here put me tantalizingly close to the finish line on Ranger
. This project has finally advanced from from three tubes to a sweater. The short rows are over, and now I'm in the ever-shorter rows that lead to the neck. I'm constantly slapping away the worry that it's going to be too small for the recipient. It will fit somebody. I can always knit another one. (I'll die a little, but I'll knit another one. I love knitting!)
Ranger is a really solid sweater. The fabric (knit in Brooklyn Tweed's Shelter
) is a springy combination of firm structure and airy texture. It reminds me of the Portly Dad cardigan
I made so long ago.
Speaking of birthdays, I have one lumbering into view. (Sigh! Shrug!) Laying aside my indifference and denial, I am seizing the opportunity to cajole a lemon meringue pie out of Most Moisturized Mom. The occasion reminded me of my fiftieth-ish birthday scarf from you
, which I wear all the time. This all-season garment may be the world's only handknit containing a mixture of linen, silk and cellulose extracted from seaweed. Somehow you knew this would be my favorite fiber cocktail.
Happy weekend, all!