Emulating Thumper’s mom.

I enjoyed the speed dating which preceded last night’s dance far more than I thought I would. Got to talk with several friends. Was not spared having to interact with an age-appropriate brother who is into the Barbie-types. So now he is not simply that arrogant, dismissive twit; he is now that arrogant, dismissive twit from Coeur d’Alene whose father knows the father of the husband in the couple with whom we were best friends when the children’s father was getting his MBA at BYU.

That may or may not be progress. And it does not quite qualify as something Thumper’s mom said, but it’s the best I can do, for now, in that particular situation.

The other petri and the most-recently-former petri were at the dance. I got to visit with, or say hi to, both of them.

I also had a nice chat with Middlest while I sat in the parking lot of a restaurant after work. From there I drove to a different restaurant, whose food I was craving, and I knitted while waiting [briefly] for my cream of jalapeno soup, salad and rolls. Then I drove across the street and picked up a bag of clementines and a tub of ginger animal crackers for my contribution to the snack table at the dance.

I am looking forward to the music at tonight’s dance. (I do not have words to describe how strongly I am channeling Thumper’s mom as I write that.)

I am glad that the mid-singles had music they could dance to, last night. Best part of the dance per se was when the new guy walked me to my car and hugged me.

Thumper’s mom, Ms. Ravelled, Thumper’s mom.

Augh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h! [OK, I feel better.]

Thumper’s mom.

The new cast-on which I learned, is magic.