Off to the sun?

Laguna Beach, to be exact. The hotel website forecasts showers tomorrow, but sunshine later.

The ocean will be wonderful no matter what.

I'm taking a small carryon - no camera or computer, just a small notebook (the kind you write in with a pen!) a book and some knitting for the plane.

"You're really going on vacation," said L tonight.

But will I have withdrawal symptoms?

A day when I'm glad to have a TV

Because I didn't grow up with television, I've generally preferred radio coverage of momentous events.

However, after listening to a bit of chatter on NPR this morning, I headed straight for the TV, and sat there taking it all in. This was definitely an event for which the medium was made. (Thank you Philo Farnsworth.)

I hoped for a blare of boat horns after the oath of office (like the cacaphony that broke out Election Night) but the fog was too thick this morning for any boats to be out.

After watching today's ceremony, I finally appreciate the value of the long hiatus between election and installation. Or perhaps it is just that this particular transition was so deftly managed, in spite of personnel problems, another war in the middle east - and the economy.

My favorite guest at the ceremony was the Rev. Joseph Lowery, who gave the benediction. "More lyrical than the poet," was the comment of one political blogger.

From out of the fog...

This week the local film society began a "French Noir" festival, and the weather is cooperating. For days now mid-level fog has hung over the city, keeping the temperature between 32 & 40 and warding off sunshine until about 2:30 p.m., when a few weak rays break through.

For artificial sunshine, I still recommend "The Pearl Fishers." In spite of some gratuitous writhing that passes for dancing, the production is a good one. (If you don't want to rush out to buy a ticket, listen here at 7:30 tonight for a live broadcast by the gold cast.)

(I'll be by the radio with my knitting, having finally figured out yo-ssk!)

Opera is an acquired taste (except perhaps in Vienna, where you might be born with an opera gene.) Growing up, I heard the Saturday-morning (this was the West, remember) Met broadcasts, but didn't see opera on stage until I was 18 and going to school in Massachusetts. In those days the Met did a two-week spring season in Boston, and it was a real thrill to see as well as hear a production.

"The Pearl Fishers" is a wonderful introduction to opera. In spite of a silly libretto and a plot full of improbable coincidences, the music is lovely, and the characters connect with an audience. Some critics prefer "Pearl Fishers" to "Carmen," usually acknowledged as Bizet's masterpiece.

Opera doesn't need to be real to be wonderful. According to the program notes, the librettists apologized to Bizet for their thrown-together offering after hearing the music on opening night. (Bizet wrote the opera for a contest, and had to use an existing libretto because of time constraints.)

Seattle has had opera for a long time, along with other kinds of entertainment. Thanks to "Vintage Seattle" for this babe -

Nothing wrong with garter stitch...

Even though a famous knitting designer and teacher says beginning knitters should not be limited to "garter stitch scarves."

Some of us may never get past garter stitch, without some kind of key to decode knitting instructions.

Tonight I spent far too long trying to work out instructions that seemed quite straightforward. Four or five rows into the pattern (which is supposed to produce, through a series of decreases, a beautifully mitered knit block) I discovered I was actually INCREASING. Ripped out, started over. Same result.

Finally got out the Vogue Knitting Book, hoping for one of its diagrams to sort out the confusion. Now I more or less understand "yo," (that's "yarn over," not "YO!") but I'm still not sure about "ssk."

Explain to me why one pattern book carefully defines "ssk:" "Slip two stitches knitwise, one at a time. Insert left needle into fronts of both stitches and knit in the usual way."

Vogue says, "Slip slip knit."

My grandmother and my mother were both phenomenal knitters. I should have asked more questions when they were still available to answer.

Fortunately, there are clever people at knitting shops who make the most complicated patterns seem easy. Meanwhile, garter stitch is an honorable pursuit.

"Your blog should be purple..."

(Perhaps to match the grapes in this picture.)

Taking a "blogthings" quiz is one way to know it's the middle of winter and you're seriously understimulated. How else would you find out how kissable you are (I didn't) what your word is (ditto) or how evil you are? (26%. No comment.)

Outside it's a dry moment between storms. In two weeks we've gone from a foot of snow to flooding, mountain passes blocked by avalanches, and a section of the main north-south freeway closed by high water for the second time in 14 months.

You can still get out of town on an airplane. The other day I made reservations to go to France in late April (a week in the Pyrenées followed by 2+ weeks in Paris.)

Meanwhile, there is artificial sunshine in a performance of "The Pearl Fishers" on Sunday. In many ways it's the perfect opera: melodramatic plot, a highly imaginary setting, and captivating music, including a tune you can hum as you leave - the duet for tenor and baritone, "Au fond du Temple Saint."

Bizet wrote the opera when he was 25. How intimidating.

Reading - Paris 1919, an absorbing history of the peace conference that followed World War I (and in many ways precipitated WWII.) Eighty years later in Transylvania you can still see graffiti saying "Down with the Treaty of Trianon," (which took Transylvania from Hungary and gave it to Romania.)

Cities of Salt, a novel about the beginnings of oil exploration and exploitation in Saudi Arabia, takes place in the early 1920's. (I hope to work my way up to the 21st century by the end of the year.)

Brightening up winter...

I'm unreasonably delighted with these amaryllis blooms, because I didn't really expect them.

Previous experience with these bulbs was that they produce long vigorous leaves. Period. This plant, however, shot out an impressively phallic flower stalk almost as soon as it was planted. Two flowers appeared at Christmas, and two more followed. This in spite of our (mostly) sunless winter days, and indoor temperatures not quite up to what the instructions on the box suggest.

Nature is tougher than all of us!

Happy New Year!

If it isn't exactly an opportunity to start over, New Year's Day offers an annual reminder that change IS possible, and things can be improved.

New Year's Eve was thundering good fun. Before attending the symphony's presentation of Beethoven's Ninth, I, Z and I dined at Union, just down the street from Benaroya Hall. We skipped the prix fixe meal in favor of à la carte at a window table in the bar, where we could watch the passing parade - New Year's Eve may be the second most costumed event in Seattle, after Halloween.

Benaroya was packed, a nice treat for the musicians, who faced halls a third to half full during the snow-plagued run of "The Messiah."

Second half of the program featured the Seahawks' Blue Thunder drumline. After three numbers on their own, the drumline (a phenomenally energetic group) joined the symphony players for a piece by Gianastera; "The Stars and Stripes Forever," by John Philip Sousa ("our hero") and a final roof-lifting rendition of "The Radetsky March."

Following the concert came dancing in the lobby (to a band amped even louder than the drumline), desserts, bubbly, and a full-throated countdown to 2009. Not a bad way to start the year, but I was happy to be home again by 12:45.