mea culpa, holiday absences
A month since my last post--heresy. Don't kick me off the KAL's, please. I'll share a knitting story:
We flew to San Diego on December 16 to meet the fam and then catch the cruise the next day. I'd had a hellish time getting away from work (both jobs), painfully cracked a filling at lunch two hours before we left, had felt old and fat and frumpy on the shuttle to the airport--filled with students from the college where I work (last day of finals and all)--was realizing I had spent way too much on swimsuits, had packed a seriously overweight bag and still had the nagging feeling I'd forgotten something. (I'm getting to the knitting part.)
The thing I was looking forward to most was popping on my mp3 player ("Shopaholic and Sister," a guilty pleasure courtesy of audible.com) and knitting along on the Easter Egg socks (while trying not to kick myself for all those times in July when I told myself it was too early to start knitting Xmas presents). So I settle into my seat and pull out my knitting. The flight attendant comes by, coos, and asks what I'm knitting. Socks, I say, all puffy-chested with pride.
Then I notice that the woman sitting across the aisle is staring at my knitting. I'm beginning to feel very interesting and accomplished when she says, "Do you mean to tell me they let you bring those on the plane?" (gesturing at the needles) I nodded and said something about they've changed the rules. She then says, "But they're really sharp, aren't they?" I hold my sz 1 Addi Turbo out and say, sort of, wondering if I look like a terrorist. She harrumphs and makes some snotty comment about how it doesn't make sense with all the other things they won't let you bring on the plane, etc. etc.
Sometimes I hate people.
The socks are coming along but Carole Wulster should never write another knitting book. The instructions for the short-row heel are unintelligible.
We flew to San Diego on December 16 to meet the fam and then catch the cruise the next day. I'd had a hellish time getting away from work (both jobs), painfully cracked a filling at lunch two hours before we left, had felt old and fat and frumpy on the shuttle to the airport--filled with students from the college where I work (last day of finals and all)--was realizing I had spent way too much on swimsuits, had packed a seriously overweight bag and still had the nagging feeling I'd forgotten something. (I'm getting to the knitting part.)
The thing I was looking forward to most was popping on my mp3 player ("Shopaholic and Sister," a guilty pleasure courtesy of audible.com) and knitting along on the Easter Egg socks (while trying not to kick myself for all those times in July when I told myself it was too early to start knitting Xmas presents). So I settle into my seat and pull out my knitting. The flight attendant comes by, coos, and asks what I'm knitting. Socks, I say, all puffy-chested with pride.
Then I notice that the woman sitting across the aisle is staring at my knitting. I'm beginning to feel very interesting and accomplished when she says, "Do you mean to tell me they let you bring those on the plane?" (gesturing at the needles) I nodded and said something about they've changed the rules. She then says, "But they're really sharp, aren't they?" I hold my sz 1 Addi Turbo out and say, sort of, wondering if I look like a terrorist. She harrumphs and makes some snotty comment about how it doesn't make sense with all the other things they won't let you bring on the plane, etc. etc.
Sometimes I hate people.
The socks are coming along but Carole Wulster should never write another knitting book. The instructions for the short-row heel are unintelligible.
posted by nann at 7:02 PM
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