I found myself in a situation where I needed to apologize to a fellow I know through the singles who sometimes returns my calls, and sometimes doesn't. [One reason why Other Guy and I will probably never have the quality of JustFriendShip that Brother Sushi and I do.] I left a VM on Other Guy's cell phone during the drive to work one morning saying "I'd like to apologize, if you have the time and the inclination to receive it. We'll talk later." And I called Brother Sushi on the drive home to say that I'd done so, and that I wasn't sure the guy would call back, and maybe I should just drop him a note.
Pregnant pause on the other end of the line. The sort where I slow down and pay attention, because I know that Brother Sushi is going to rummage around in the closet of his accumulated wisdom and hand me a new tool for my toolkit. I never know if it's going to be a monkey wrench, a scalpel, or a sledgehammer. Sometimes it's a laser level that whistles "Yankee Doodle Dandy". I may not need to use it often, or more than *once*, but it's always the right tool for the job at hand.
So when he said, "I wouldn't," I almost stomped on the brakes, which would have been a mistake because the light had just turned green. And I would have found myself picking a Hummer out of my trunk. Which would have made me late for Knit Night.
"Oh really? Why not?"
"The offer to apologize *is* the apology. You did it. You're done. Move on."
And then I explained to him that if I apologize to another woman. it's a whole lot more complicated for that. First I have to say that I want to apologize. Then I have to describe the behavior and why I'm sorry that I did or said it, and then I have to actually say that I'm sorry, and then we both hug and sniffle a little, and then we eat some chocolate and all is forgiven. Unless of course the other woman gave up forgiving others several Lents ago.
The offer to apologize *is* the apology.
Explains a lot, doesn't it?
OK, back to your regularly scheduled knitting content. LittleBit picked out easily the most boring pair of socks in Knitting Vintage Socks. I am knitting them in purple Essential Tweed and am about halfway to the heel flap. This is my first pair using, more or less, Magic Loop. I tried two needles but only had 32"s instead of 24"s, and it was way too similar to when I took GLM [graduated length method] ski lessons back in 1973. There was just too much dangling going on; I could have been teaching participles to eighth-graders. Enough metaphors. I am not enjoying this sock at all, and I can't wait to finish it and its twin and get back to working on my nice Crystal Palace DP's and lace or cables or *something*.
I'm heading out the door to (A) have the oil changed on Lorelai, (B) have the locksmith fix the lock on my trunk so I can stuff Earl back in there, and (C) find out how much it would cost to have them pull my CD player and extract the CD that I know is in there but the player says is not, because I got impatient and forced it into someplace other than the intended track.
I foresee lots of reluctant, cranky knitting in the next couple of hours. Then a trip to the place I call Planner Heaven for more of those cute truncated extra diary pages and maybe some stickers and other papery toys. I not only turn over a new leaf this time of year, I embellish it and calligraphy it.
And maybe a massage this afternoon. We'll see. It's officially Be Good To Myself Day, having survived my first MRI [of the line dancing injury to my knee]. I hear my last piece of Russell Stover's calling my name...
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!