Andy in Amsterdam

Rather than write a post about how muggy it was again today and say that we went to see Fred’s niece (and her boyfriend and their new son) in Haarlem and that Fred bought me some new shoes as a belated birthday gift, I decided to spend some time tidying up my notes from the NYC trip. I’ll be doing that for a bit, so if you’re looking for new material, you have to go back a bit.

For the record, I held the baby (Casper - a month old) for a bit. So strange to hold a baby, not something I have any kind of muscle memory for. Fred has held many babies, his cousin being one, and Casper went right to sleep. They are two of the nicest people you could ever meet. Just sincerely interested people.

So look back if you’re interested in keeping up with my exciting life.

Last night, we went to bed at the normal time - which was sort of late - and I lay there for a while not being able to sleep. I finally got up and came into the living room to knit while I watched my latest online tv obsession: RuPaul’s Drag Race. It’s sort of America’s Next Top Model meets Project Runway meets a bunch of drag queens. And this afternoon while Fred and I were discussing who got kicked off while he was sleeping, I came to the conclusion that they’re all the same. I mean it knew that, but I had to explain to him why it’s just like…all of the others.

The basic format was set years ago by Survivor, which I loved and watched (dare I say) religiously. They start with a number of contestants (Drag Race started with nine, instead of the normal 16 that most shows use.) One person is thrown off each week. There’s always a mean person, but they rarely - if ever - win. However, they usually stay to the end because they’re good for drama and they’re usually good at whatever they’re doing on the show. There’s a mini challenge and a big challenge each week. The general rule is that if a person doesn’t get much face time, they’re safe that week. And in between all of the challenges is the conversation and bickering, which is the best part. People love to disclose abuse and trauma on these shows, which is sort of gross…but fascinating.

Last week, I was listening to a podcast wherein a writer/director said that people really shouldn’t bother trying to write the story that has never been written because that’s sort of impossible. They’ve pretty much all been written. It’s how it’s written, and how the story’s told that makes people want to read it. That’s the same with all of these shows and The Apprentice and The Amazing Race. So if they all seem to be copies, it’s because they are. But just so you don’t think I’ll watch just anything, I draw the line at dating shows like The Bachelor. I won’t watch that. They’re trashy and stupid. Who finds true love on a tv show?

But anyway, one of the reasons I was awake - I think - is that it’s hot here. We’re having that week we always have where it’s gross and hot and muggy and uncomfortable. Of course it’s nothing compared to what NYC was like. That was hotter and muggier than Amsterdam ever thought about being. It’s just that there’s no air conditioning or fan in our apartment, so the air is wet and still. I asked Fred how hot it was today and he said, “28.” In American, that’s like 82. That’s nothing. However, riding around on a bike in the sun and I was sweating mightily.

So last night, I got up and knit and watched something on the computer - something which is offered free by the tv station - and I knit. I drew the line at one, although I’m completely addicted and I can’t wait for it to be over. I like RuPaul. Who would have though that a big ole drag queen could be that mainstream and well known? She’s got a lot of lines I won’t go into, that I’m sure she’d love to catch on in a “Where’s the beef?” sort of way. But one of them is at the end of every show, she asks, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love someone else?” Then she says, “Can I get an Amen?”

I always say, “Amen!”

This first part is from yesterday before I was so tired that I started seeing trailers and my will to blog left me.

I’m finally back home. That US to Europe trip is always a killer for me. I didn’t sleep - unlike the fellow beside me. Thus, I got home and, while all around me it looked like it was about nine o’clock, my body thought it was around three in the morning - and I’m never up at three in the morning. Couple that with a crappy night’s sleep and a lot of running around during a muggy New York morning carrying two heavy bags and I “hit the wall” soon after I walked in the door.  I was sort of screwy in the head for most of the afternoon. Then I finally got enough caffeine in my system so that I could think straight and I was able to do the grocery shopping and actually speak a word of two of Dutch. Now I’m just waiting for bed time.

This morning at the airport, I had an amazing amount of luck. After standing in a line for a few minutes, a man approached me and noticed that my bags didn’t have any tags. He took me out of line, got me a the tags and put me back at the front of the line. The upshot of this is that my bags didn’t get weighed and the whole process was much faster. I think my bags might have been a little over the weight limit with the purchases I had made (for myself and others), so it was good that no one checked.

My flight was terribly uncomfortable. I’ve always loved Northwest and KLM for the individual screens the have on the backs of their seats, and for the wide variety of visual stimuli they provide in the way of movies, tv and games, but the screens don’t work if the guy in front of you has his seat all the way back. There’s no good angle even if push your seat all the way back into the lap of the guy behind you. And even then, how are you gonna knit in that position?

And this is today’s post:

Most of yesterday was spent sleeping and bumping around the apartment trying to be semi-productive by unpacking. I took a couple of naps, which only aggravated my sleepless condition. Of course by about eleven, I was wide awake, but I took enough sleep meds to get a good night’s rest, so I’m almost back on track. Ever heard that you shouldn’t get too hungry, angry, lonely or tired? I think it’s called the HALT rule. There’s a reason they say that.

When I returned yesterday, I saw the flag with the backpack in the photo above. I asked Fred what it was for and he told me that it was because the child in that apartment was geslaagd, or that the child (presumably a girl) had passed all her exams. When I was teaching high school, kids were on pins and needles wondering if they had passed all their final exams and were going to graduate. In my day, in Bedford, Texas, there was less mystery. We would have know weeks ahead if we weren’t going to graduate - except poor Mike Boaz. He got himself a surprise.

If it looks like I’ve suddenly returned from New York City, it’s because I’m back dating. If you look at the dates, they’re actually the correct dates. I had terrible Internet problems during my ten day stay. And by terrible, I mean that I had no connection. I could have gone here or there to get a connection, but I didn’t want to do that. I wrote quite a bit, but I wasn’t able to post. Now I have a lot of partially written posts and some notes that I have to put together. (Not all of it is about yarn shops.) I’ll be editing all of that and putting it up in the next few days. It was a great trip and I’m glad to be home.

This morning I went to my old church. Walking up, I saw a drag queen by the front door. I thought it was just an overdressed prostitute (it’s the kind of church that doesn’t blink when a prostitute walks in), but she turned out to be a member of the Imperial Court of New York, an organization that raises money through the ancient art of drag. They throw galas (I know that word is really gay, but the only other choice I had was “balls,” and I didn’t want to offend anyone) and are all around good deed doers, as the Wizard of Oz might say. I almost took a picture of her - which I now know she would have loved - but since I thought she might be a working girl (Full drag at 10:30 in the morning? You do the math.) I thought better of it.

When I walked into church, the choir director, John, waved at me and after a few minutes, asked me if I’d like to sing with the choir that morning. It was my secret wish. The choir - with me backing up the tenor section - sounded great. We sang Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls. Then The Imperial Court representatives presented a check for $15,000 to the church. (Only a crazy church would snub a couple of drag queens bearing a check like that.) And finally, the fabulous Reverand Pat Bumgardner preacher her Stonewall Sunday sermon. (Stonewall Sunday is a High Holy Day at MCC-NY.) I’ve heard the sermon many times, but I hadn’t heard it in a long time and it was music to my ears.

In case you are not aware, the Stonewall Riots began almost 40 years ago on June 28, 1969. It was the official beginning of the gay rights movement. Basically, a bunch of policemen tried to raid the Stonewall Inn and the drag queens and bull dykes (and presumably people like me who are neither) fought back. It’s a great story (we won), but that’s it in a line or two.

I had to leave church early because my train to Poughkeepsie left at 12:45 and my friend, Ross, was meeting me at the other end. I was so happy that I had to go through Grand Central Station. I hadn’t been through there for years - probably years before I left. It’s really nice now. I took a snap of the ceiling, which had been cleaned before I left.

Then, rushing to my train, I took one of the hall. It’s very nice as crowded train stations go. Lots of restaurants and places to eat downstairs. Even if you don’t have to catch a train to Poughkeepsie, you should try to see it. It’s beautiful. Of course I knit during the two hour train ride. That, to me, was one of the pros when I was weighing whether or not to make the trip to see Ross and his boyfriend, Roger, upstate. Two hours of knitting time on a train. A secondary gain was that there was one of the prettiest babies I’ve ever seen sitting beside me. One of those that just smiles and stares. Love that.

Ross and Roge have a fairly large house in Rhinebeck. It’s not gigantic, but it’s got about three bedrooms and a lot more space than Fred and I have. There’s also a large garage and a large storage shed. It’s sitting on two and a half acres. Anyway, we ate lunch, did a little tour of Rhinebeck and then went to the house where we hung out and had a cocktail in the backyard until it started to rain and we thought we should head back. It was nice to see the house because I’d heard about it for years and I had something completely different in mind. (Another, smaller place that I’d seen in the early Nineties.)

Ross and I got back into the City and went to their apartment in the City, which has this view.

I’m going to say that that’s the Manhattan Bridge, but don’t hold me to it. Anyway, we sat around there and talked for a while - again. We’ve known each other since the eighth grade, so we’ve always got a lot to talk about. Interestingly, we talked, possibly for the first time, about our real impressions of each other in high school. You know how the farther you get away from something, the safer it is to talk about it? So we were probably more honest tonight. Plus, we’d had a few, and that always helps. This is one of us that looks like we’re on drugs because of all the trailers, but we’re not. My camera just needed more time than Ross wanted to give it.

I’m always amazed and grateful at the luck I’ve had with the people I’ve been “saddled with” in my life. I’m talking about those permanent fixtures like siblings and friends (like Ross and Patty) who are in our lives and just won’t go away (thankfully). I’ve had some really dry chaff just blow away and the people who’ve stayed are just wonderful. They’re the kind of people who I can not see for months or years and then we get together and we start talking like it we saw each other last week. Ross posted this last snap of us on Facebook. Roger had taken in the backyard. He wrote “Didn’t realize how much I missed him!!” I feel the same.

This morning, I got up and went to a meeting that I used to go to on Saturday mornings when I lived here. It’s sort of a writer’s support group. It was good to see some of the old faces. Of course there are a lot of new people, and, of course, some of the people who were new when I left are the people in charge now. (The circle of life.) Three of my favorite people – with whom I have had no contact since my departure from this fair city – were there and recognized me immediately. It’s so nice to be recognized. Interestingly, I googled all three of them a couple of years ago with limited success. Now I have actual email addresses.

After the meeting, I took out my list of yarn shops and started walking. I’ve decided that I want to try to see as many yarn shops as possible while I’m here. I don’t have to buy at every one, but I want to look. I didn’t do a lot of educated yarn shopping while I lived here and Amsterdam has a limited selection. It rained intermittently, nothing to complain about. It didn’t dampen my spirits – as it were – I’m just glad to be here walking around my old hometown.

Habu Textiles is interesting, not at all what I expected. The store looked like they were in the middle of some kind of mini renovation – lots of baskets placed artfully on the floor. I asked some questions and touched a lot of yarn, but I didn’t buy anything. It’s sort of like shopping for a meal, but being in a store that specializes in pickled products – stuffed peppers, capers and olives – when you really need to get the basics first. I kept picking up stuff and saying, “Is this paper?” And the woman would say, “No, it’s cotton.” Well worth a trip, if you’re in the ‘hood.

School Products, like Habu, is on an upper floor in an office building on the west side in the twenties. (i.e. no storefront) It’s a large space with a wide variety of yarns, some of them fairly exotic (yak, camel, metal) and lots of cones. I ended up making my first purchase: three skeins of cashmere lace weight in white. I’ll have to dye them, but they’re really soft and it didn’t break the bank. The man at the front (Raphael) seemed like the owner, but according to my information sheet was not. He told me why a yarn store is called School Products. It used to be a store that sold (say it with me…) school products. Then they started getting some yarn in because they students in the neighborhood liked it. And then they switched to all yarn. I might go back, but there are still another dozen stores I’d like to see.

On the Upper West Side, there are two stores that I visited: The Yarn Co. and Knitty City. Knitty City is sort of cozy. There was a woman who was very helpful, very informative. I’ve got a sweater I’m kitting and I know I’m going to run out of yarn, so I need something that will work well with what I’m using. She gave me lots of options. Unfortunately, most of them were mercerized cotton and I am realizing that I’m not all that impressed with mercerized cotton – in general. I like a less shiny, rougher (yet soft) cotton. And the sweater I’m working on is cotton, so that’s that. I bought a couple of balls of Sugar and Cream cotton that will be good for washcloths. At $2.50 a ball, it was a good find: lots of nice colors and totally affordable.

The Yarn Co. made me want to sit down and knit, except that there was a kid there who was picking out yarn. He was one of those precocious New Yorker kids who talks too much and is too used to being around adults. He said a lot of stuff that he knew would impress the ladies at the table. What was it W.C. Fields used to say? Go away kid, you bother me? They have a nice variety of yarn. I might go back later in the week. They store feels really nice and the people are friendly.
This evening, Greeley and I watched several episodes of One Life To Live. When I wasn’t working – after I took the buyout from my hospital job – I asked Greeley for a suggestion because I wanted to start watching a soap opera. (I’d never done it before.) Now I am an honorary citizen of Llanview, Pennsylvania. Surprising how not that much has changed there.

It was really nice to sink into something that I haven’t done for years, but feels very natural. It was sort of like being transported back in time. We at dinner and then I sat back while Greeley filled me in on how the new characters are related to the old ones - and why some of the old ones are back. I just have to get him used to the idea that I am going to knit while I watch tv.

And when I’m too tired to watch any more, I only have to travel into the next room to go to sleep.

NYC - Day Two

As the weather forecast for today was only cloudy and not scattered showers or thunderstorms – like the rest of the weekend is supposed to be – Greeley and I decided to take a bike ride through Central Park. It’s one of those things we occasionally did when I still lived here. He says his most of his other friends are either too old, sick or lazy to do it now.

First, though, I woke up at about 4:30 in the morning, even though we’d gone to bed at almost midnight. (Lots of catching up.) So I sat and knitting for a while and then I wrote for a bit before he made an appearance.

I never wear a bike helmet in Amsterdam, but since it’s NYC and since a traumatic brain injury could really put a damper on a vacation, I decided, “When in Rome…” Plus, it was novel. I’d never done it before. Riding bikes is a quick way to see a lot of sights. There were a few sight suggestions to which I replied, “No. I’ve seen it,” like the Alice in Wonderland statue and Belvedere Castle. They were just too much trouble to get to and I’ve been there numerous times. Of course I said that about the World Trade Center for years. But it’s true, I’d been there and seen the view several times. I’m totally fine with not having seen it one more time.

Scheduling seeing people has turned out to be less of a hassle than it seemed like it was going to be. I’m willing to travel, so that’s good. Marc is a friend I’ve known for about thirteen years. I met him at a party just before he and his partner, Alan, moved to NYC from Philadelphia. Things have changed a bit for all of us. They’ve moved around the City several times, Marc’s practice has grown considerably and their dog of many years went crazy and died a while ago.

When we went searching for a cup of coffee, Marc walked me through the village for about half an hour in search of some mythological coffee place that wasn’t Starbucks. Lots of new businesses and lots of empty storefronts. And lots of construction going up. It was hard to remember what used to be where all the new stuff is. We ended up at a Starbucks, which was fine with me. We had some iced coffee concoction with chocolate that I would never have ordered myself – but it was good. It was so good to see Marc and Alan. They seem like new friends, but I’ve known them for a while and a lot of water has passed under the bridge with us. I love having old friends.

Leaving Marc in Chelsea, I went to Alphabet City to see my friend James who lives all the way over on Avenue D. I was once on Avenue C when it was getting dusky and I said to my friend, Paul, “We need to get out of here. It doesn’t feel safe.” Now it’s getting all gentrified. It’s a completely safe neighborhood. I’ve known James for even longer than I’ve known Marc, by a couple of years. James is a burlesque performer and teacher. He’s always lived a little outside the box. With James I’ve always felt almost Republican – as wacky as my life has been at times. He’s been with his husband, Scott, now for a while. They’re sort of perfect together.

We sat on their deck and had a glass of wine while the sun set. Then we went to one of my favorite restaurants of all time – Mama’s. It’s an East Village institution that’s been around for many years. Home cooked food in a very relaxed atmosphere. I had the meatloaf and two green vegetables. Conversation flowed very nicely and we talked about our lives and plans. Then they gave me a suggestion on how to get back to Greeley’s, which was good because apparently the bus I used to love isn’t that dependable any more.

Today was a long and wonderful day. At the end of it, I looked back and said, “I went biking in the park with Greeley…was it this morning?” And while it’s not exactly amazing how easy it was to slip back into talking with both Marc and James, it sort of was. It just makes me think about how much I love having a history with people. We’re all the same age, so we’ll all age gracefully together connected by experiences we had back in the Gay Nineties.

I’ve slept about four hours since I woke up yesterday morning in Amsterdam. I’m tired in a very genuine way.

NYC - Day One

After getting up pretty early and packing, I was out of the house about two hours before my flight this afternoon. I’m sort of crazy about where we’re situated in Amsterdam and getting to the airport. It’s just a ten-minute walk to the station and then a train. Checking in was no problem; in fact, after asking a woman if I was in the right line (and having her say, “Yes, but it’s a large group and they are checking in all their bags and talking with their hands.”), I was moved to a line where I was whisked through.

Unfortunately, my bag was over the weight limit. Fortunately, I had packed a smaller bag in my larger bag, so I just pulled the smaller one out and checked in both bags. Unfortunately, this left the contents of the larger bag in a mess. Fortunately, I saved 50 euros – so who cares?

I used my new Dutch passport for the first time. The man said – in Dutch – “Where are you going?” to which I replied – in English – “Uh…United States.” I wasn’t immediately able to come up with the words “Verenigde Staten.” And, really, what does it matter? It did make him do a double take at my passport, but Dallas is clearly written there under Place of Birth, so that explained that.

I basically knit and watched movies for the entire flight – interspersed with eating and stretch breaks. I watched He’s Just Not That Into You, which is something Fred would never willingly see. (Full disclosure: I got all teary at the ending.) Then I watched Man on Wire, which is a documentary I’ve been meaning to see. Very nicely done. Then I watched Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which was sort of nice. I really enjoyed it. I haven’t seen a Woody Allen movie in a while. Yes, you can watch three movies during a flight of seven hours. You just have to time it right and commit to the project. My sweater isn’t flying off the needles, but it’s coming along.

Amazingly, my flight got in on time – 15:25-ish – and I didn’t get to Greeley’s apartment until almost 18:00. Getting through passport control was no problem, although the line was really long. I took the Air Train to the subway and the subway goes all the way through Brooklyn. Then I had to change trains, which meant dragging my re-combined suitcase up a couple of flights of stairs.

Greeley and I talked until it was time for me to meet Butch for dinner. It’s very interesting to be back. Some things have changed incredibly. I’m still trying to pull up the file in my memory of what used to be on the NW corner of 15th Street and 7th Avenue. There’s a new shop there. On the flip side, some things look exactly the same. Some subway stations, for instance. Nothing changed. It’s sort of like seeing Greeley and Butch. It’s like no time has passed. I love having old friends. (“Old friends” means friends who I’ve known for a long time, not friends who are old.)

I’m looking forward to seeing who the first completely random person I run into is. I keep looking around – nothing yet. This is definitely New York City. It’s definitely the US. It feels good to be here.

Vertrekken - verb. - to depart

I like to pack late for trips. I’ll get some things together ahead of time, but I don’t like to start putting clothes and things into the actual bag until right before (that morning, possibly the night before) I leave. The problem is that if I have a suitcase and I see a little space that’s just the right size, I’ll put something in it. Part of my brain thinks, Oh that’s a perfect place for some post-its or a roll of tape. Or That’s just the size of that book, when the saner part of my brain knows I won’t read the book on said trip.  There’s something about me that wants to take as much home on a trip as I can.

This afternoon, I was talking to a friend. She’s one of the friends who is moving back to the states. I told her to start keeping a journal or a blog. She said, “I’ll start it when I’m settled.” I encouraged her to start now.

Having been an avid journal keeper for years, I have been delighted to read back to when something big happened in my life (and sometimes you don’t know when those will be).  Then I like to look back further and read about the transition up to the big thing.  The first time I met a particular person, for instance. I wrote down my first impression of Fred when I met him, the first couple of days when I knew him and he was just a guy who my traveling companion had met on a trip to South Africa. It feels very innocent, very vague, very fresh. He was just a nice guy I’d met who I wanted to keep in contact with.

I am really really excited about this trip to NYC. I have appointments with several friend. I have others that I hope to find time to see. (They have more open schedules.) It’s been in the future for so long (a couple of months) and now it seems strange that it’s tomorrow. In 24 hours I’ll be in NYC. It’s crazy.

The blog will continue. I have Internet access where I am staying and I plan to record as much as possible. This is going to be a fun trip. Stay tuned.

Late this afternoon, I went to a networking thing. It was actually a “new herring“/drink thing to introduce something at a museum. If “something at a museum” is a little vague, it’s because I never really got what it was about. The museum was the Amsterdam Historic Museum. I had spoken to someone earlier in the day about something and I was invited back to meet some other people - that was purposely vague.

Standing around in a crowd of people is not one of my favorite things to do. I had agreed to meet some friends there. They said they’d be there right at 17:30. I showed up a few minutes after 17:30. The friends finally showed up at 18:20. Don’t bother doing the math; I’ll just tell you. They were 50 minutes late. On the bright side, for them, that’s right on time.

So there I was in the middle of a very nice courtyard with lots of herring - some was plain, some with only onions and some with onions and topped with a pickle. (I recommend the latter.) I didn’t want to start drinking because it wasn’t even six. There were two problems: I didn’t know anyone, and everyone there was Dutch - and I really didn’t feel like talking in Dutch. So I stood and waited and looked around the courtyard eating herring and waiting to meet people with onion-fish breath. The crowd was a whole museum crowd. In Amsterdam, museums are big business. There’s a whole network and people know each other. It’s probably like that in other towns. I’ve met a lot of museum people, but they weren’t there at the time.

I was also tired and I really just wanted to meet the people I was supposed to meet, do a little glad handing and jet. As I stood there, I thought, I’m so good about talking to people, but I’m just completely befuddled about what to do here. I guess it’s the whole idea of walking up to someone and just talking. It’s difficult enough in the US - or NYC, which was my only real experience at trying to do that - but you never know how good a person’s English is going to be, or if they’ll be in the mood to speak English. Maybe they’re feeling like me and they don’t feel like bothering. Of course that’s just an excuse. Anyone in that line of work is probably just fine switching to English, and most people like the practice.

At the end of the event (which mercifully ended at 19:30), I’d met the two people I’d come to meet. They were both very receptive and interested to hear from me. I got their cards. I need to get some cards. I had also run into a guy I knew when I first moved here. Haven’t seen him in about four years. It was nice to catch up.

Maybe I need a little seminar on networking. When I’m introduced I do fine. It’s the whole “being alone in a crowded room” thing. That’s a skill I need: Walking up to people I don’t know and talking to them.

I’ve been thinking about names for a website - a website that says something about good English and translating and writing and that sort of thing. Then I was reading The Cecil Beaton Diaries and I came across the term “angels on horseback.” I thought it was a little obscure, and I didn’t really know what it referred to, but I liked how it sounded. So I put it on the brainstorming list.

Before you hit the Comment button, be aware that I now know that it’s a “hot appetizer made of oysters  and bacon,” and, thus, not at all appropriate, but I thought it made a fierce title for a blog post. It also makes a nice image - full grown angel in a flowing gown on the back of a horse. And oysters and bacon? Yes, please!

My day today was spent doing paperwork and preparing for a trip. The paperwork was the report I have to write when a class is over (multiples) and the report I have to write after I do an intake (multiples). I really enjoy doing intakes. I just sit and ask questions, getting people to talk. The last five I did were particularly enjoyable. All very nice people. Even writing the reports up was almost enjoyable. It’s just writing. It’s all about trying to communicate with the trainer who will get the students, painting a picture, if you will.

The trip I’m going to take is to New York City. I’m going from 18 - 28 June Fred’s got other things to do, so he’s not going and would hate being there with me. I’ve got lots to do, lots of people to see. It’ll be a very Andy-centered trip. He would be bored to tears sitting and listening to me catch up with people, following me around. It’s been five and half years and I haven’t been back to NYC since I left. There’s lots of coffee and lots of reminiscing in my future. I’ve already made a lot of appointments, mostly for supper. I’ve got a list of yarn shops that I want to visit. I’m going square dancing. I’m going to visit my old church, see some old groups of friends. I’m really excited. I leave on Thursday early afternoon. I’ll be there late Thursday afternoon. Going to the states is great for getting time. I’m taking my new favorite project - a top-down raglan sweater. I think it’ll get me through the flight, any sitting time I’ll have while I’m there, and the flight back. It’s thinnish yarn and all stockinette.

This evening I was at Sitch ‘n Bitch and a new woman walked in, walked up to me and said, “You must be Andy. I read your blog.” By the way, If I’ve never met you and you walk up to me and that’s your first line, you have made a friend. (Ask Alex, that’s exactly how we met.) It also turns out that this woman is Dutch but owns/runs a martial arts school in Oregon - the same martial art that I used to do when I lived in NYC.

I know, right? Anyway, it was a very nice connection. The martial art is poekoelan. Talking to her made me want to take it up again. I need to do something physical. I’ll check it out.

Not blogging every day is sort of driving me crazy. Yesterday was a long, crazy busy day, so we got home and just sat until we went to bed. (I, of course, knit, but I didn’t have a blog post in me.) I guess there’s nothing keeping me from blogging but me doing it. The change over to the new blog got me off my rhythm. I need to get back on it.

If you’re in NYC and you knit, contact me. And if you have a wonderful title for a website like I’ve described, email me and I’ll be eternally grateful.