It’s time to accept that these will never be mine. (I wear a US 8.5, which is no where near a US 11.) It’s not very often that I feel such a strong need for a particular pair of shoes, but these called to me and my limited fashion sense. It doesn’t hurt that they would look awesome on my feet while I’m riding my scooter (I have a shiny dark red helmet that they would match nicely). *sigh*

It appears that Dr. Martens have become extremely hard to find. I used to know of at least 4 stores in the South Bay Area that carried them, and each of those stores has gone out of business. It probably doesn’t help that once Docs went mainstream their popularity declined, and you really don’t see goths or punks wearing them any more (these days it looks like they’re back to wearing All-Stars).

So, now I am reduced to pining for beautiful red vintage big-eyed satin ribbon-laced Docs.

Yesterday, I attacked the dining room. After three and a half hours of dusting, spraying, tossing out, and vaccuming, I managed to find the top of my horizontal filing cabinet dining room table. It’s kind of odd to walk into the kitchen now because all the clutter you could see from the kitchen doorway is gone.

I’ve gotten two of the main rooms in the apartment cleaned, and now The Husband is talking of inviting people over. He even mentioned names of people who are coming to town for business. The hallway is still cluttered, and we won’t speak of the condition of the main bathroom. *gah*

My Ribby Cardi is all seamed up and blocked (well, as blocked as I thought it needed to be). I even gave it a test run today at work. But it’s zipperless… I’ve never put a zipper in anything. I’m not sure if I want to try doing it by hand, or if I want to take it down to my parent’s and have my mom and her fancy quilting sewing machine help me. I have my own sewing machine, and I think I even have a zipper foot, but damned if I know how to use it.

I picked up a copy of KnitLit the Third on Saturday at my LYS. I’m not sure what I think of it so far. A few of the stories I’ve read so far left me thinking either “Why should I care?” or “Whatever.” Stephanie‘s story was funny, but she has a very easy going writing style. Several of the ones I’ve read seem to be trying too hard…. trying too hard to be funny… trying too hard to be different… trying too hard to be literature. I’ve had a hard time connecting with the writers and what they are trying to convey. Steph’s story is easy to empathize with… I can easily imagine the jitters I would get being forced to wait for long periods of time after my knitting had been taken away from me by airport security. But I’m still trying to figure out why I shouldn’t knit and drive as one of the stories admonishes readers. The first two KnitLit books had stories and essays that were heartfelt and invoked reading enjoyment through a shared sense of knitters as community. This third one feels as if many of the writers are writing to writing not writing to share their love of knitting.