In which I experience more of Indian culture without actual reference other than the internet, and embarass myself voluntarily on the internet.
I bought my first sari on Friday. I had debated over various styles and had visited numerous sari shops locally, and finally decided on one I found on the internet (because I don’t have to talk to anybody when I shop there). It is lovely. It is Bengali. It is green. It is cotton. I completely missed the fact that it came to me starched.
I did not get any pictures of my first sari wrapping attempt, as it was abysmal (not as bad as I’d imagined, but pretty awful). I have since hand-washed the sari and it is hanging to dry over the shower curtain rod. I think it still has starch in it. It should be easier to work with now (previously it was like trying to clothe myself in wrapping paper – I couldn’t get the pleats to lay right and the back was all bunchy and it was crinkly and itchy and weird).
Other thing accomplished this weekend: ordered pani puri with little to no embarassment, though I’ve been obsessing over my non-existent line-jumping since then. And also? Pani puri is awesome, if impossible to eat in a moving vehicle.
(Extra also? It feels weird to be announcing these things to the general internet, when I expect that the things I am doing are altogether mundane. How weird must it be to stumble on this? Do people in other countries write similar things about America? I overthing everything, of course. But it still feels weird to announce, “Pani Puri is awesome.” I didn’t Twitter it, at least.)
Enough of that.
Socks of Eternity are still eternal. I have not had to put them back on the needles in some time, though. The ChickenGoddess has started an excellent lace shawl that I would also like to knit at some point. She offered to help me with it, but I declined in favor of finishing the lace shawl I did two rows on way back when (*ahem* last year). As she has since discovered that the pattern is confusing and has had to rip out her work, I am glad I waited. It’s gorgeous, but I have a short attention span when it comes to lace (except for socks and hats), and I think it might have made me cry. Or throw things.
And so in lieu of knitting, I give you this (when I was 13, I so would have had a crush on this guy):