Don’t Point That Thing at Me was recommended by Gidget at her knitting blog: http://gidget.typepad.com/gidget_casts_on/ . I am always grateful for a good book recommendation. This book was compared with Wodehouse (the author even does so himself, internally), but really reminds me more of Donleavy: depraved, but witty. While I avoid the depraved in real life, I have no aversion to a little depravity on paper, as long as it is combined with wit.
I know that all of you grabbed your needles and zipped right over to read the Saki story I suggested to you a couple of days ago. So here is a treasure trove of stuff you can read online while knitting, with no need to prop the book open: http://www.bartleby.com/hc/ . This is really quite an exciting link, because it includes important classic works, from Aristophanes to Dante to Poe (so you can judge whether Saki or Poe is the better Hallowe’en short story read) and onward. You want to re-read Vanity Fair before you see the movie, I feel sure.
Exciting though this is (yes, it is), I don’t really like to read fiction online. Nonf iction, including blogs, can be enjoyed thoroughly on a screen, I think, but fiction requires curling up with. And in this weather, a nice fire and a spot of tea. But I don’t know where my copy of Vanity Fair has gotten to, and I want to re-read it before I see the movie, so I may try to be modern and read it online. I have started the second DNA scarf, and it might be more convenient to work on while reading online. Fortunately, I also have an all-stockinette Christmas gift on the needles. I switched to it last night when Don’t Point got interesting.
The one currently being knitted is at the top of the picture on the right. The completed, felted one — same pattern, same yarn, different shade of blue — is at the bottom of the picture. Since these are gifts, they naturally must remain unidentifiable geometric shapes, in case a recipient might read this.
But why pretend that I will have lots of leisure for knitting and reading today? Although it is Saturday and not a workday for me, I have a long list of things to do. I have to clean the house thoroughly for the houseguest who will arrive on Friday, and I have a whole bunch of errands to run, beginning with getting doughnuts for the houseguests who stayed last night. I promised I would do so if they didn’t force me to take them out last night and buy sodas and chips, both of which are against my principles. (So are doughnuts, but at least I can get them freshly-made at the local bakery.) So they accepted my deal, and got my husband to buy their evening junk food for them. They will go far.
We often have houseguests here. There is the Floating Sleepover, which goes on all summer long and most weekends during the year. This involves #2 son and his best friends since grade school, Falcon and Pinky. They sometimes include some other members of the gang, but these three are usually together. Even on some weekdays — it is usually explained to me that Falcon’s or Pinky’s mother is gone and he needs a place to stay. This sounds so sad, given that they are all only 8th graders, but both of the moms in question have gotten divorced over the course of the years, so it may be true. When #2 son is staying over at one of the other guy’s houses, we always have to keep track of whether it is mom’s or dad’s house.
The current houseguests are #1 son’s friends. The record for us is 15 in the house at one time, the night before #1 daughter’s wedding. #2 daughter had brought a quartet of singers down with her, and #1 daughter gave up her bed to the soprano. This seemed courteous at the time, but the groom-to-be came in after his bachelor party to tell his bride-to-be that he loved her, startling the little soprano quite a bit. A couple of hours later, the dog leapt up onto the bed, also to tell her he loved her, but probably by licking her face. The soprano gave up and got up and went to early church with us, doubtless to give thanks for her survival. Staying at our house does not usually expose people to drunken sailors and mad dogs, but that soprano has never come back.
The upcoming houseguest is actually a friend of mine from college, whom I have not seen in 20 years. This is very exciting. Obviously I have to clean the house and lay in some groceries.
It is now 5:00 am. If I drink up my tea quickly and get right to work, I could have most of my housework done by the time the boys wake up, clamoring for doughnuts, and all of the errands done before lunch. Then this afternoon could be devoted to reading and knitting.