When we knit, we look like this:
(Angie, Essie, Sarah)
Kidding! I bet I just about made Essie wet herself, except that it's not allowed at her house.
Actually, when we knit, we're all like this:
Because, as fate would have it, we each encounter a variety of idiots each and every week who should be thankful that we do knit. Sometimes this group includes our spouses and children.
We used to meet at a small vegetarian/indy cafe. They had a big comfy couch (score!) and we could knit with a glass of wine (touchdown!) But they shortened their evening hours until 9 pm.
I don't know how you and your friends roll, but our Knitting Crew is not down with a 9 pm closing time.
Being the hard-partying rebels that we are, we had to find a location better suited to our night owl tendencies. So we switched to Barnes and Noble.
They close at 10 pm. And we shut that mutha down each and every time.
Whoa. Life on the edge, I know.
Anyway, last night dear Angie was totally kicking butt on this awesome scarf she is knitting. Bear with the technicalities here. She had just bound off (or is it appropriate to use the term "binded," since we are discussing knitting?) to create the keyhole, and she needed to cast stitches back on to resume the scarf.
Angie is a lefty. Essie and I are righties. Between the three of us, our awesome math skills, and left/right/forward/backward miscalculations, we kind of created a huge knitting mess for poor Angie.
All the while, over the loudspeaker, Barnes & Noble was counting down every 5 minutes that they close at 10 pm--lest any of us should forget the time since their last reminder 5 minutes ago.
Now, we are moms whose children constantly present us with problems of the WTF!?! variety. When we are presented with a problem that we actually can fix, you know what happens?
And rallied we did. We consulted a guide. We talked it out. We completely ignored the B&N "we're closing in 5 minutes" countdown.
Suddenly they were shutting off the cafe lights and the manager came over to ask us to leave. Clearly he was missing our sign:
I was standing up, knitting frantically as Angie informs him that we have a Knitting Emergency.
Essie scoffs under her breath, "They can call the police and drag us out. We're fixing this problem."
Secretly, I think we were all envisioning us having a stand-off with the po-po, us holding our deadly weapons--knitting needles. We weren't scared. They could bring it.
We were Knitting Ninja's, I tell you.
We fixed that problem, packed up our gear and were on our way. We thanked the exhausted manager for his patience and understanding and assured him that this was truly a dire knitting emergency.
"I don't even want to know," he replied.
Leaving the store, we were on a "We fixed a problem" high.
And that's something we don't experience a lot. So when we do, we savor it. It was a great moment.