Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Stories! Now in reverse chronological order!

Story the 1!

I had no inspiration this morning for a packed lunch. I had cereal, but there's no milk at the office. I had pasta, but didn't feel like making it. I had a frozen dinner-style lasagna, but that lost its appeal immediately after I purchased it approximately an eternity ago. No bread, not enough spinach for a salad, only one granola bar... So, even though I really ought to not take lunches because I have time to make up after leaving early to get poked in my most enthusiastic bits while wearing a short blue wrap jacket and NO pants, hello, my bottom!, I decided it was an order-food kind of day.

I re-packed my knitting (the second picot-edged sock) for easy removal, headed downstairs, and got a huge shock when I stepped outside.

It-- it was cool out!

It's always a surprise when I go outside after/during work. I'm stuck in a super air-conditioned nook (some people use space heaters in the summer. Seriously) where the only way I can find out what's going on outside, weather-wise, is if I somehow develop x-ray vision. I go outside, and surprise! It's been raining! Or snowing! Monsoon! Plague of frogs!

Lately, however, I step outside and am immediately crushed by the sweltering ick of beastly heat-and-humidity. This might be caused by living down south. Sources are being consulted. But you can see, then, why it was so exciting with the coolness and overcast-itude?

Immediately the knitting jumped into my cool(!!) little hands, and I re-commenced picking up gusset stitches. It was glorious, the walking with the knitting and the loveliness. That's right, I can walk and knit at the same time. Unless I drop a stitch.

And then I came back and had my croissant-turkey-lettuce-tomato-strawberry-cream-cheese sammich (actually kind of disappointing) and sweet potato fries (sweet, sweet manna).

Gorgeous. Makes me wish I had a chair on my porch. And that I wasn't going out dancing tonight so I could enjoy it. HAH! Skipping a dance! That's funny.

Right! On to Story the 2!

As mentioned in Story the 1 (you were taking notes, yes?), yesterday I went to have my excitable parts manipulated and checked. I'm all over leaving work early. Less so much for this. Especially when I remembered the part about peeing into a dixie cup. Oof.

ANYway, being well schooled in the art of sitting in waiting rooms, I made sure to be clever enough to bring picot edged sock 2 (see: Story the 1) with me. I worked the heel a bit in the waiting room. And a bit more. And a bit more. And I didn't have a measuring tape OR the other sock with me to check how much farther I needed to go (I would like to note here that I plan to have a ruler tattooed onto my body somewhere. But where?), so I just guessed. I seem to remember deciding that my thumb is 2 3/4".

I got a few curious looks from a wee boy of about 6 years accompanying his pregnant and exhausted mother. He clearly wanted to ask, but I didn't offer so as to not bug his mom. She'd clearly had a long day.

Finally I got called in (was it 30 or 40 minutes after my appointment was supposed to start?), peed in a cup, reported on the status of my monthly ovary parties, and then got to sit in a whole new spot to wait!

And lo, here came the curious wee gent and his mother. Sitting next to them was a mother and her daughter, looking miffed. As clearly as mom-of-wee-one was tired, so too were these women pissed about a long wait.

Continuing on my way to being solidly clever at least once a day I pulled out my knitting again. Young boy asked his mama what I was doing. She noted that his nana does that, doesn't she? Yeah, he said, his eyes never leaving my needles.

We talked for a while, he and I, about
-how many needles I have
-how the yarn changes color
-how there is green in the yarn
-how there is green on his shirt, but different green
-how his nana does that (turns out she crochets)
-how blankets are big and take a long time
-how my knitting will get bigger (this was a popular topic)

His mama asked if I was knitting baby booties. A generally reasonable question, given the location. I said no, they were for me. Then wee one asked about my baby. I told him I don't have one. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Not all women have babies," his mama told him. Brow furrowing. I could see his mind trying to wrap around that notion -- woman + baby doctor place ≠ woman with baby? Old lady without baby? (he's six -- or whatever -- everyone over 10 is old). It was totally charming. His mom wasn't convinced of that ("now you're never going to want kids") (which showed that her thinking wasn't too far off from her son's), but I enjoyed it.

While my needles didn't make it into his hands, as the Yarn Harlot suggests, it wouldn't surprise me if he asks his nana to show him some crochet when he sees her next.

Craft on, wee one. Craft on.

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