There’s a guy at work who calls me that. That’s my name, to him. "SockKnitter!" he’ll yell when I enter the room. I like it.
And now I’m going to teach a class on sock knitting! There’s this great new-ish knitting studio called Knit-One-One in Emeryville, and I’m a teacher! You wanna learn how to throw a little lace panel in a pair of two-circular toe-up socks? Using your own yarn, any gauge, any size needle? You should come! (Plus there’s finger food and it’s the BEST atmosphere…. you’ll love it.)
In other news, I am fighting the grumps. Or the gurmps, as I like to type. I really am more gurmpy than grumpy, actually. (And that thought cheers me, so it’s a light gurmp.) The stupid HOA asshat at our condo is being stupid, that’s all. I’m doing rather well with compartmentalizing my angst about him — I just wrote a long ole email addressing his concerns and I saved it as a draft. I’m at work (working my second 12 hour midnight shift of my weekend, sigh) , and I will mail it at 6am when I go home. This will prevent me from obsessively checking my email all night for his rambly 3am drunken return email. See? Good idea, huh?
But this nice thing: I was at the bank this afternoon (money, sigh….. As Janine says, and I paraphrase, if you have a problem that can be fixed with money, you don’t have a very interesting problem….) and there was a lovely fellow talking to the next teller. He was dressed in a long black suit-coat and charcoal pants. He had a tall black afro and a long silver beard. He said to the teller, "I had breakfast in Houston, and now I’m at the bank in Oakland."
She said, "In Houston! Wow!"
He said, "Can you imagine? What a time we live in, that we can move around like this now."
He laughed, and she laughed, and then he said, "I can’t wait to ride in the time machine."
Isn’t that a nice thing to overhear? I thought so.
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