Amanda Takes Off...

I decided to design and knit a summer-weight dress out of cotton/linen blend yarn (Camila from Elann). I used US size 3 needles for the body and trim and size 1 1/2s for the inside of the hem.

All Wrapped Up

I knit the dress in pieces (front and back) from the skirt down with a provisional cast on. Then I removed the cast on and knit the top. I ended up knitting three pieces but didn't seam anything because I picked up two sets of stitches to make the two front pieces.

Back View

Side View

It's a mock wrap dress. I decided that making an actual wrap dress would make the dress too heavy and hot for the summertime. The top half was odd to knit, because my needles ended up in this spiral because I was knitting the two front layers at the same time.

I made the belt using the six-peg Clover Wonder Knitter. I can tie this belt in multiple ways, swap it out with another style, or leave it off entirely.

Belted

As something fun for myself, I made the skirt hem and sleeve hems with a contrasting color. You can't see it from the outside, but I suppose it can be seen when I'm sitting if you're at the right angle.

Contrasting

The trim around the neckline was done with applied I-cord.

Total time from start to finish was about five weeks, but if you exclude the ten days we were in Canada, actual knitting time was under one month.

It's a very comfortable dress! I think it's going to become a wardrobe staple.

I went to taekwondo tonight. On the way into the building I passed Kwanjangnim. He asked how I was. I nodded, went to shake his hand, and answered in Korean, "My stomach hurts."

"Oh, your stomach hurts?" he asked.

Suddenly I felt intense pain in the webbing of my hand. He was pinching a pressure point.

"Oh, that hurts? Turn around, put your hands together like this," he said, clasping his hands below his chin. I did so and he stood behind me, hugged me from behind and said, "Breathe in deeply... Now relax." He picked me up and shook me.

I felt my spine loosen.

He put me down and continued, "Now put your hands on the wall." I turned around, faced the wall, and did what he said. He started slapping my upper back. Hard. "This will help. Korean-style. It's good for you."

Sort of 한방의학, I suppose.

I'm not sure that helped.

I should have known better.

When I was 9 or 10, I read Charlotte's Web. I cried at one part, which I remember clearly because I arrived at my grandparents' house sobbing.

I picked up 샬롯의 거미줄 this winter, even though when I tried to read the first page, it was too hard. Recently, I tried the first chapter and understood most of it, so I decided it would be my next book to read.

Yesterday, Charlotte hinted to Wilbur that she was getting tired and old.

I cried.

Good Man stared at me. "Why?"

"She's going to die!"

"No, she's just getting old, that's what it says."

I wailed, "She's being Korean! She's talking around it! 'It seems like I am getting old...'"

"You are strange. You are like my mother, you cry a lot."

This afternoon, Charlotte told Wilbur she really wasn't going to return to the farm with him. She had a day or two left to live. And Wilbur begged, begged, begged Templeton to get Charlotte's egg sac.

I cried.

Good Man stared at me. "It is book!"

"I know! But Charlotte's Wilbur's best friend, and she's going to die and he's going to be stuck with the mean old rat!"

"She is laying...how many?"

"Five hundred fourteen."

"Five hundred fourteen eggs!"

I shook my head, "But they won't be Charlotte!"

"You are 울보," Good Man said.

"I am not a crybaby!"

"Then you are cryadult."

Tonight, Charlotte died. All alone. And Wilbur watched all but three of her 514 babies leave. He asked them to come back, to stay, but they left. Wilbur did befriend the three who stayed.

And I cried.

Good Man just looked at me. "If roach did magic, would you cry?"

"Roaches don't make webs."

Good Man pointed to the wall in the bedroom where our house spiders live, "This is why you don't kill spiders! You read when you were kid and now you expect spiders to do magic!"

"Of course!" Then I started laughing. And crying. Because I sounded ridiculous. But isn't that the joy in reading children's books? Believing in magic?

"If you care about fake talking spider in book so much, then you should never kill spider, roach, grasshopper, ant..."

"I'm not Buddhist," I said.

"Why don't you join PETA?"

"I eat meat."

Good Man shook his head, "And you are crying over spider in a book! I am just pointing out your paradox..."

***

I was on-track for my Korean goal and then Mother's visit, the end of the school year, a weekend at the beach, ten days in Canada, and having a hard time getting through multiple books all set me back.

But, onward and upward. I've finished "소나기" and 샬롯의 거미줄 since my last update.

533,300

"Honey, I don't think I should come on Friday," I told Good Man, "I think I will make you too nervous."

Good Man looked at me. "You were not even invited."

ㅎㅎㅎ Good point. I wasn't.

***

Last week Good Man decided he would take one one-hour driving lesson each day this week, culminating with his driving test today. I told him he didn't have to take it unless he was really sure. I was afraid if he failed on the first try, he'd put off re-taking the test and I wanted him to be sure he felt ready.

"I am ready," he said. "She [the instructor] told me I don't need 10 hours, just a few more."

After his first behind-the-wheel lesson, Good Man has slowly warmed up to driving. A few weeks ago, he started saying "부릉부릉, 빵! 빵!" after each lesson.

Bu-reung bu-reung, bbang! Bbang! is the sound of a car driving and honking in Korean.

When he started making driving noises (complete with wheel turning and horn honking motions), I figured he was enjoying driving. He disagreed with me (but I still think I'm right).

The local DMV office's course is on the road, so Good Man's instructor has been bringing him out to the actual course to practice. (When I told Good Man my test was in the parking lot of the DMV he was shocked. "A parking lot is not the road!")

Good Man's instructor picked him at up 7:15 this morning. "I will not come home if I fail," he joked, "I will hide."

When 11:00 rolled around, I was a bit worried. Finally I heard the door bell (his weird way of announcing he's home—yes, my husband does have a key) and walked out to the living room.

I could tell by the grin on his face that he'd passed. He flashed me two peace signs and nodded.

Yeah, Good Man! Licensed, at last!

Bless Good Man. Apparently his examiner talked the whole time, distracted him by playing with the aircon controls, and said, "Go, go, quickly!" at a left turn (yield on green light) that he was hesitating about. He also didn't have to parallel park. (What?)

But who cares? He passed!

Now...we only own a stick. He can't drive a stick (yet). He hasn't driven at night and I don't even know that he's gotten on the interstate. But I don't care. He's licensed. Amen. Amen. Amen. He can get night and interstate practice when we go to Middle Of Nowhere, Minnesota next month.

Five years ago, I rear-ended someone. It was a minor accident, but it left my front bumper twisted. It was still securely attached (in the front center at least) to my car, and I could still put a front license plate on my bumper. As such, I didn't bother to put in a claim. My insurance deductible was high enough that I would've paid for all of the repair or most of it, and putting in a claim would've just increased my insurance fees.

My students always bother me about the bumper. They tell me I need a new car, that I should fix it. Once, I found a bilingual business card from one of the parents of a student at our school under my windshield wiper. It was for a body repair shop. I was the only car in the school parking lot with major visible damage; I was the only car graced with the business card.

I joked that it warns other drivers to stay out of my way. Really, I didn't want to spend the money to fix it. I didn't care that the car looked tired.

In Virginia you have to pass an emissions test every two years and a yearly safety inspection every year.

(As a side note, I hate emissions inspections. I support them in theory because rah, rah environment. However, the first emissions test I ever took? My bought-for-$1-and-many-more-in-repairs 1985 Volvo 240 station wagon, a great car I named Anika, failed the NOx limit by 600 times the legal limit. That same day, the heater core in my car broke. When I brought it to my guy, Randy, he told me to sit down. "It would cost more to replace the heater core than your car is worth. And then we'd have to deal with emissions." I turned around and sold Anika for $1. Since then, I'm always afraid my car is going to belch up pollution and fail on me.)

Every year, around this time, it seems my car needs some major repair. All new tires, a whole new dash (although going zero miles per hour on the freeway was fun!).

Despite having passed my yearly inspection twice with my bumper as-is, this year I was told it'd fail. I went two places and they both said the same thing. (At least they didn't charge me for the advice.)

I researched where to go, got two estimates, and ended up at Cedar Park Auto Body (who gave me an estimate more than $150 under the other place). I got the estimate Friday. "What kind of fix are you looking for?" the guy asked me.

"Enough to get it to pass the yearly inspection. Used, whatever, I don't care. Cheapest I can get it, since I'm paying out-of-pocket."

He laughed. He didn't try to talk me into more, but he was very clear that something-or-other under the bumper was probably bent and would need to be replaced.

I dropped off the car yesterday morning and picked it up this afternoon.

That is not my truck. It looks years younger with its face bumper-lift.

I highly recommend Cedar Park Auto Body. What they said it would cost, it cost. And they threw in my yearly inspection for free (thanks!).

Unfortunately, they couldn't do emissions, so I did that elsewhere (and passed).

Now, rock on for one more year, little truck—Leif. I'm not ready to replace you. Even if you are a pre-teen.