I drove in to the Richland Hills Station yesterday, in preparation for Knit Night. As I was standing on the platform, a respectable-looking man walked up to me, smiled, and greeted me as if we were old friends. Old, perhaps; friends? that remains to be seen. I didn’t know him from Adam.
I was wearing my seriously-cool shades, and I lifted them off my face and smiled to take the edge off my words. “I wonder if I am the person you think I am.” Wow! I have learned to speak ReliefSocietese! Because what I was thinking was, Who are you, and why are you talking to me, because I don’t know you. Are you one of those strangers my mother warned me about?
Says he, “You ride the bus with Joy and Carol, right?”
Say I, cautiously, “Yes, I do.”
Says he, “I ride the same bus in the morning.”
And we introduced ourselves and shook hands. And then the train came, and I sat down with LadyZen, and he sat across the aisle and up one, facing me.
Weird. Not him, necessarily, but the situation. He must not have gotten the memo stating that all middle-aged men must immediately drop their briefcases and run in the opposite direction when they see me.
Further progress on the Sunrise Circle Jacket yesterday, and much hilarity at Knit Night. I plunked my bags down on a chair and ran down the hall, muttering something like “Pass the bag with the yarn around so you can see what I got in the mail.” When I returned, most of them had quietly taken one of the balls and were waiting for me to notice.
Which, surprisingly enough, I did. And then they passed them back to me. I think the only one who didn’t participate was Middlest, who didn’t quite see the humor in it. She is wonderfully protective of her mother.
And she is moving back to Virginia this summer to help her friend whose hubby is being deployed. I got a little teary-eyed as I took her home last night. I have had and am having such fun with her, and I am going to miss her enormously when she goes.
We only stayed for a bit at Knit Night so as to spend some time at Fourthborn’s; I met her new doll last night.
And now if I do not stop writing and finish my cereal and hop in the tub, I will absolutely have to drive into work today, and I am not in the mood.
- 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!