Today, as I sat in my local you-know (that happens to be my most comfortable place to be, actually), a lady walked in with a fan. Not the type of fan you plug in or stick in a window, but the type of fan you swipe in front of your face to get the fresh air going. Next thing I know, someone sitting over at the table asks, "Hey, anyone here been to that new restaurant where you can bring your dog?"
"Oh yes!" says the woman with the fan.
And the clerk, who is taking her order says to her, "I have forgotten your name. Can you remind me?"
And the lady with the fan replies: "Why yes; it's 'Mary.'"
"Oh yes, 'Mary.' I remember now."
And then Mary says, "Regarding that new restaurant: I was just there. The cali-MARY they serve is just scrumptious! I highly recommend it."
"The calamari?" asks the clerk. "How do they prepare it? Some restaurants really overdo it and it gets tough. You know what they say about calamari: 'cook it for five minutes or cook it for five days...Anything in between is tough.'"
"Oh? This cali-MARY is just fantastic! They saute it in Asian spices. It's just so tender, that cali-MARY! You will die!"
So I'm sitting there, squirming, just dying to yell out: "Hey lady! They call it 'calamari!'"
But right before I do, the one who usually dines on something sort of tart and crunchy there at the table plops down her own knitting and whips out a container of something new and starts munching.
We all look her way and wait for a second while she chews.
Then, her shoulders slump and she laments: "Why the hell can't they make soy spareribs so they aren't so damn chewy?"
Mary: "It's because there aren't any bones in them to make them moist. You should try the Cali-MARY over at that place where they allow dogs."
Actually, I made that very last part up. Mary had already left. But honestly, that imagined retort was too rich to pass up. Plus, another one of the ladies didn't get it that the spareribs were ersatz and kept asking her if the spareribs were boneless and maybe that was why they were so tough.
I finished a pair of socks for Girlfriend and another for HWWV. It feels good to get them off my needles and off my shoulders. There is something about unfinished socks that suck the life out of me. Yeah, it sounds a bit strong to say "suck the life out of me," but it is honestly true. Thing is, having these things on the needles for a year or many months sucks the life out of me one. breath. at. a. time. (And you know what I mean when I say: "one. breath. at. a. time.")
It's good to get them off the needles and onto the feet. Now, I just need to decide what other life-sucking pair of socks are next.
(Girlfriend's socks are Claudia Handpainted. The color is Blue Ridge. Boy, this yarn is way softer than the Regia stuff I was using for HWWV.)
[Edited to change the yarn reference and give a color. It was late when I wrote this post!]