Confessions of a Knitting School Drop-out

Yesterday I planned on doing my walk over the lunch hour, but a former coworker came by to eat with her old colleagues and of course I preferred eating lunch with Monica over walking five miles in 80+ degrees.  Problem was, I had knitting class after work, and getting home after that would put me close to 9:00 pm, which would be the latest I’d ever started my walk, so I decided to skip class.  Truth be told, my crappy hat was looming large, and maybe I was looking for a way out.  So I walked instead.  Marcy called me afterwards to report that EVERYBODY had knitted crappy hats, that Latifa had made virtually everyone pull out multiple rows and start over again, and that I would have been just fine.  That made me feel a little better, but I stick by my decision:  I am not ready to find out what it feels like to miss my five for the first time.

This morning, I met my friend Brian (yes, she’s a woman whose father wanted a boy) for my long-deferred breakfast at Mi Madres, five miles from my house.  Her workplace is about ½ mile from my house, so she drove me back.  A true “norther” blew in last night, and was still pretty active at 5:15 when I started out.  I got blown about quite a bit, but the real triumph was in crossing I-35 at Dean Keaton without getting flattened by a truck.  As far from relaxing as that walk was, it reminded me, once again, how good it feels to get the thing out of the way in the morning and not have it pressing on you for the rest of the day.

And once again, I came away from breakfast feeling refreshed, affirmed, lifted.  I have always said that Brian (with apologies to my other brilliant friends) is probably my smartest friend.  Mechanical-smart (she and her husband are remodeling their house themselves, INCLUDING PLUMBING AND WIRING), people-smart (great at helping you untangle a relationship problem) and common sense-smart.  And funny.  Any my spiritual sister.  Here we are after breakfast.  The mullet progresses.