I took my Boyfriend out on the town.
If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that I am working on a second NaKniSweMo sweater. (See “Corinne has a Boyfriend”. Scroll down. It’s there.) And I am hopeful that I will finish Boyfriend before Christmas.
So…today we ran out of colored printer ink. When I looked in our office supply stash, I discovered that the last time I went to Staples I got the wrong size. No help for it; if we’re going to print free patterns we’re going to be needing that ink. Time for a Staples run.
So I gathered up the wrong-sized ink cartridges and headed across town. It’s a beautiful day here in Down Town Rockland and the fresh air and bright sunshine felt great. I pulled into my favorite parking space at the edge of the lot, in front of Staples, grabbed my bag and headed into the store. When I slung my bag in a cart, I noticed a suspicious strand of purple yarn trailing back out the door.
I know there are many, many knitters who have project bags. I am actually one of them. I have bags in all sizes and shapes, all fabrics and colors. I switch bags all the time depending on what I’m planning on carrying. But I also usually use whatever bag I’m carrying as my all purpose/project bag combo. I have my calendar and my phone, my lip balm and a pen, a measuring tape and a darning needle, some waste yarn and a pair of scissors, and at least one project…sometimes as many as three projects at a time…on the needles in the bag I’m carrying. Right now I’m working on Boyfriend. I cast on both fronts at one time so I don’t succumb to Second Sleeve Syndrome (similar to Second Sock Syndrome, that terrible weeping and gnashing of teeth when I have finished something and have to knit it again right away) which means that I have two balls of Lana D’Oro attached to my WIP. And clearly one of them had fallen out of my bag in the car and I had trailed the other end into the store.
Only a little bit panicky, I abandoned my bag in the store and ran back to the parking lot to retrieve my yarn from the car…only to find that the wind had taken a big loop of it and carried it far, far, far away. There were in fact two strands trailing away from my car, one at neck height and one at ankle height, both running the full width of the parking lot in front of three stores. And there were three women about to clothes-line themselves on this luscious trap the wind and I had set for them.
I started screaming. Yup. Screaming. “Stop! Stop! Please Stop! Don’t hurt yourself,” I cried. The woman closest to me, the one nearest to tripping and strangling, stopped, noticed the two strands of Lana D’Oro death stretched in front of her and began yelling. “What the hell! Who did this?” Well..I guess I did it, but it was mostly the wind and wholly an accident. She stepped over the bottom trip wire strand and ducked under the top garrote strand, shook her head at me, and went on in to the sporting goods store.
Then I started following the twin lines of doom. They wound past seven aisles, then made a sharp left. They drifted around tires and under bumpers of about 14 cars until finally taking another sharp left around an SUV which was trying to exit its parking space. The woman driving was in gear and easing forward while another woman pounded on the window and shouted, “Stop! Don’t move. You’re tied up.” The driver got out of her car and the two of them started trying to figure out how those beautiful strands of purple got there as I came jogging up, waving my arms and shouting, “I dropped a ball of yarn. The wind took it. I’m really sorry!” Together we followed the yarn almost completely around the SUV before finding the end wrapped under the cargo hatch.
They began to laugh as I started pulling my offending strands out from under the driver’s tires. Each of them took a strand and began winding…properly, I was pleased to note, with plenty of ease, in multiply diagonal directions. Obviously both knitters. As the three of us pulled and wound our way back down the lot, we met one of our OTRYarn regulars coming around the corner winding from the other end.
“Hi, Polly. How are you?” I asked, trying to act casual with a purple tangle in my hands and two wing women winding separate balls of my beautiful yarn. Like this happens all the time. Like it’s a standard part of the casting on procedure my grandmother taught me. Like I’m a professional, a business owner, a fiber artist and instructor of the highest caliber. Like these women should trust me in all things yarn. “I just dropped a ball of yarn and the wind took it,” I said, shrugging and taking the semi-wound balls from my flankers.
And Polly, dear Polly…do you know what she said? Of all the things she could have noticed or remarked on, she just said, “Hey, you’re wearing Corinne. You’re right; the buttons are the best part. I love Judy Garland.”
Well, maybe somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and maybe the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. Maybe project bags keep projects safe and when you drop something it stays put and doesn’t go with the wind. Here in Down Town Rockland, Corinne still has a Boyfriend, but he needs some rehab and I won’t be taking him out on the town again any time soon.