Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I fall in love with a new man or woman. This is one of the great pleasurable freedoms of seeking an education in art history. Unfortunately, they’re all dead; this is one of the drawbacks. In the past six months, my amours have included Gilbert Stuart, John Kensett, Winslow Homer, Mary Cassatt, Cecilia Beaux, and John Singer Sargent. Along the way, I’ve developed serious crushes on Childe Hassam and Julian Alden Weir, although we haven’t studied them yet. But today I’m the love slave of George Inness. He was a nervous and tempermental little fellow, plagued by epilepsy and debilitating ill health, and he seems to have been convinced that he was a reincarnation of Titian. Okay, so he was a little eccentric. But he painted these:

I’m writing a term paper on him, and my professor gave me an extra copy he had of the catalog from a major Inness show in Los Angeles. I opened it up coming home on the bus, wandered into my local coffee shop with my nose still between the pages, and wallowed in the glorious color prints for an hour and a half. I emerged with my perception of color and light effects still heightened, and all along the four blocks home I was arrested by the red-tipped new growth on trees, the chartreuse buds on the rhododendrons, soft grey and mauve bark, a blaze of magenta heather, a spangling of snowdrops.

When I look at paintings now, there’s a part of my brain that catalogs possibilities for knitting colorwork. I itch to work fair isle in those yellows and russets and whale-skin blues. Absorbed in color as I am right now, it was appropriate that this arrived:

Mmmm…nine hundred yards of wool/camel blend Caravan from Just Our Yarn. Do I really need another sweater’s worth of yarn? Let’s not answer that. I’m weak. I couldn’t resist. Let’s focus on the deliciousness:

Mingus gives it the cheek-rub of approval.

I wanted to post this yesterday, but school was hectic with the admissions deadline and then I was out late being Mr. Garter’s arm candy at the fancy American Diabetes Association dinner. But heck, every day should be poetry reading day. I give you Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sonnet XI, which my brother read for us at our wedding:

Not in a silver casket cool with pearls
Or rich with red corundum or with blue
Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls
Have given their loves, I give my love to you;
Not in a lovers’-knot, not in a ring
Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain–
Semper fidelis, where a secret spring
Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain:
Love in the open hand, no thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,
As one should bring you cowslips in a hat
Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt,
I bring you, calling out as children do:
“Look what I have! — And these are all for you.”

Miss Loribird tagged me for the Weird Things meme, and since I haven’t yet gotten around to uploading my list of 100 things about myself, and since I don’t have pictures for you today, I thought I’d play along. I’m going to figure that I’m so late to the party that it’s not worth tagging six more people, though. Tag yourself if you need blog fodder, eh?

Thing 1: I played on the boys’ varsity lacrosse team in high school.

Thing 2: My comfort food is lima beans. (There, that’s probably weirder than anything else you’ll read in these memes.) No, really — drizzled with some olive oil and a little pepper and parmegiano, they’re awesome. Just don’t overcook them.

Thing 3: I dabble in astronomy.

Thing 4: The foreign language in which I’m most fluent is Nepali.

Thing 5: I play the African marimba.

Thing 6: I love Marmite.

We’ll return to regular knitting coverage after tomorrow, when we’ll fly home to Portland. Colorado’s been good to us — we’ve had some excellent days on the ski hill at Copper Mountain, and despite the blizzards in Denver, it’s been clear and beautiful the last few days. Happy 2007, everyone!

I have no new pictures for you. The Drunken Bear sock is longer, the Baby Surprise has buttons but needs its ends woven (and my poor friend, at last news, was stuck at 5 cm’s dilation, so I’d better get in gear right now!), Fishtrap Aran has 26 rows, the blanket continues apace with some Elizabeth Zimmermann Mystery Blanket squares thrown in for kicks, and I’ve dealt with about half the horrible ends of my fair isle tam (c’mon, that’s saying something!). Progress everywhere you turn, but little that’s blogworthy. And today’s a paper-writing, deposition-summarizing, manuscript-proofreading kind of day, with breaks for soaking the cat in epsom salts in a possibly vain attempt to avoid carting him in to the vet for his latest battle wounds. And he’d rather you didn’t see pictures of that. Luckily, I nipped over to Cara’s for Random Wednesday and boosted this:

48 Things You Could Care Less About

1. FIRST NAME? Sarah

2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My aunt Sally. Aunt Sally’s firstborn arrived (three weeks late) on my mother’s birthday and was christened Elizabeth in her honor; I guess my mom felt compelled to return the favor.

3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? I’m not much of a cryer, and only do it when I’m really really frustrated or sad. I think it was when we were scattering my cousin’s ashes up in the San Juan Mountains in August.

4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? It’s small and neat, which makes it good for taking notes. It slants left, which is unusual for a righty, so it’s fairly distinctive. I’d call it utilitarian, but not elegant.

5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? We vegetarians don’t believe in lunchmeat. Even before I was a veggie, I found lunchmeat a little creepy.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Um, I hope so.

7. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? Not really. I keep them sporadically, mostly when I’m travelling or spending a period of time alone, but they inevitably degrade into strange little lists and sketches of design ideas and pleasing combinations of words and reactions to art. They won’t be useful to future historians or anything.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yep. Long may they healthily tonse, although I did always note in children’s books that you get ice cream after they’re gone. I guess if I had to pick a surgery to undergo, a tonsilectomy might be it.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Sure, especially in some beautiful natural location. I haven’t, though.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Kashi and Grape-Nuts, usually together, with yogurt and very little milk, if any. Or Barbara’s Puffins, dry and straight out of the box.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Always. They don’t come off otherwise – must be my long, narrow feet.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? I think I haven’t been really tested. But I suck at arm wrestling.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Probably mint chocolate chip. Tough question, though. Coffee is also excellent, as are hazelnut, pistachio, and really dark chocolate. And then there are the fruit gelati – pear might be my favorite of those.

14. SHOE SIZE? Nine. More common than you’d think, apparently, because there are never any left on sale. My mother’s feet are the same size, which makes her the chief recipient of my handknit socks (when I don’t keep them for myself) and also makes it easy for me to steal footwear when I’m at home.

15. RED OR PINK? Red. Certain pinks do have their merits, and I have grudgingly learnt to allow them into my wardrobe. Yet I tend to favor pink over red in flowers. Go figure.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My occasional lapses into thoughtlessness. I hate realizing too late that I’ve said something inappropriate or hurtful.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Too many east-coast friends to list here. They know who they are. My cousin Saucy, with whom I never got to go pony trekking in Scotland.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? How about you just post it on your blog and I’ll come read it?

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS, SHIRT AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue jeans, a navy cardigan, and most recently my leopard-print galoshes.

20. LAST THING YOU ATE? A delicious cup of tomato-orange soup at the Flying Elephant cafe.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The cat, squawking miserably because I won’t let him and his injured foot outside, and Martin Sexton’s Black Sheep.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Probably one of the better browns, if I’m honest. Maybe Burnt Sienna. I’d like to be a really beautiful deep tealy neptune blue or an incarnadine, but I’m afraid I’m really just a brown sort of person.

23. FAVORITE SMELL? Bread baking, onions sauteeing, the forest on a wet day, the sea, fresh hay, orange peels, linden blossoms, sawdust, woodsmoke, warm horses, old books, wool

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My cousin Mary Wells.

25. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? Eyes, mouth, hands.

26. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON you stole THIS from? I admire her blog, so I assume I’d like her in person. We’ve only met briefly.

27. FAVORITE DRINK? Hot apple cider or tea.

28. FAVORITE SPORT? Cyclocross to watch; downhill skiing to do.

29. EYE COLOR? Hazel.

30. HAT SIZE? 7 1/4 for helmets; don’t ask me what that means in inches. Plenty of room for brains, my mother would say, but not as big as Mr. Garter’s giant noggin.

31. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes.

32. FAVORITE FOOD? I can’t choose. But I can’t stop eating edamame if they’re in front of me, so maybe I’ve got a subliminal favorite.

33. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings, for sure. Give me Anne of Green Gables. Give me Waking Ned Devine. Give me the good Austen interpretations. Keep your scary movies; they make me anxious and give me nightmares. And grisly images stay in my head for years, so keep those away, too.

(Dude, what happened to 34? I’ll make one up:)

34. SENSE OR SENSIBILITY? Preferably both, but I’m an Elinor, not a Marianne.

35. SUMMER OR WINTER? I’m always ready for the new season when it arrives. Summer’s great for growing things and reveling in the outdoors; winter’s great for skating and skiing and good books and knitting warm woolens.

36. HUGS OR KISSES? Yes, please. Can I get a backrub with that, too?

37. FAVORITE DESSERT? Should involve lemon, rhubarb, or dark chocolate. Oh, and pie for breakfast.

38. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Oh, let’s skip these next two. It doesn’t matter.

39. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?

40. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Wuthering Heights and Lolita for class; Patrick O’Brien’s Aubrey-Maturin books and Dorothy Dunnett’s Niccolo series (again) for pleasure.

41. WHAT’S ON YOUR MOUSE Pad? We haven’t got one.

42. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST NIGHT ON TV? Well, on the computer we watched some 24. We’re almost caught up with Season 5. Love the bit-torrent.

43. FAVORITE SOUNDS? The cat purring. Playgrounds of boisterous kiddos. Choral and orchestral music. African marimba. The throb of the ferry engine. The little pebbles when the sea sucks them skittering back underwater. Hoofbeats and hay-munching. Thunder. The ticking of a bicycle coasting downhill. The squeak and shush of snow under skis. Rain on the skylight. Seabirds. The voices of my family. The click of the needles.

44. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Neither, usually.

45. THE FURTHEST YOU’VE BEEN FROM HOME? Nepal, in many senses – both furthest and farthest.

46. WHAT’S YOUR SPECIAL TALENT? Reciting Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes (a shock to some of my parents’ acquaintances when I was eight).

47. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Mt. Vernon, Washington. The island medical center doesn’t do childbirth, so my parents had to fly to the mainland in the middle of the night.

48. WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I purloined it from January One, as I readily confessed above.