So yesterday I got to thinking. And it's not like I don't do a whole lot of thinking too much of the time, but I actually recall thinking on the same, relatively benign, subject for a span of a few minutes or six, so I figure that particular span of that kind of deep thought on something other than whether or not the pain in my left breast might mean that I have a cancerous lesion may actually be worth mentioning. (Or, that the hiccups I had last night might mean there's something wrong with my brain, or that the fact that my hand shakes after a few cups of coffee means it is certainly Parkinson's.)
Because, thinking, it's something I do: Too much.
Anyway. And go ahead and send mind-darts through the Internet waves after you read this, but I was thinking: "Hey, when did it become OK to bring your knitting to a social or business gathering?"
(Pause for a second here before you heat up. And think really hard. Think about the other hobby-ish souls out there. Think about whether or not it'd be okay with you if they brought whatever it is that they love to do over to your house on a hot Sunday at your backyard pool when you served boiled shrimp, box wine, and what-not. Think about it for a few minutes or six before you really form an opinion.)
Consider all the options: Consider that husband of a friend of yours, the one who is always talking about golf and who manages a few swings between (food) courses with his imaginary club. Think about what it'd be like if he really brought a nine-iron to your informal drink's-after-whatever gathering. Would you move the furniture before he arrived? Would your original he's-a-geek feelings go away? Or would his prowress with the nine-iron be the one thing that sticks out in your mind--the one thing that you'll never forget and dream about late at night?
Oh and yeah, you might argue that at least, with knitting, you are creating something, and that you can be social at the same time. After all, it could be a nice warm hat for an orphan that's being knitted. But I would argue back that the fly fisherman, the type who likes to make those fly-thingy's--the ones the fish are attracted to--could very well join our KIP club, don't you think? Except for the fact that they have that big screw-on-the-table rig they use to tie those cute little fly-lures, not to mention the nifty-huge, sometimes lighted, magnifying glasses one would have to wear to see the threads and hooks. (But hey, he or she can catch a fish with the thing. A fish that could feed at least a family of three...as long as he's not fishing off Santa Monica Pier, heh heh.)
I just asked HWWV: "I wasn't too "too" bringing my knitting over to Liz's, yesterday, was I?"
"No, I guess not," he said, sipping his wine and thinking for a minute or three. "But I tell you what: You do sort of shut down when you knit."
"....Yeah. It's like it becomes just the two of you. You know: You and your knitting. It's like the two of you are making out,..like you were teenagers or something."
BTW: Thanks for all the comments on my last post. The roses will grow (and grow and grow). If I could respond to all the comments by email, I would. Just know that they mean so much. And I've read them all at least three (or six) times over.