Butternut Woolens

We had our second weekly knit night last night. Amy, Crystal, Erika, Darlene and Julia.

Crystal finished her River Scarf in a slate blue-gray. Last Wednesday was the first time she had even held knitting needles and she jumped right in with this scarf worked back and forth on a long circular needle in Feather-and-Fan or Old Shale. She called me last Sunday morning.

Me: Hello Crystal!

Crystal: I have a knitting emergency and I don't know what to do.

Me: What's the problem?

Crystal: I have no end.

Me: Huh?

Crystal: There's no end any more.

Me:?

Crystal: You know how when I left your house the scarf had two ends?

Me: Yea-ah.

Crystal. Now it doesn't. It's a circle.

Me: Ooohhh....

I saw Darlene's husband Jeff at the post office just before knit night.

Jeff: So, knitting tonight huh?

Yep, you coming?

Nah, when you have ribs and beer, then I might come. Did Darlene tell you what happened to her scarf?

No, what?

The dog undid the whole thing right when she was at the end. I'll let her tell you the rest.

Despite knitting her scarf twice, Darlene finished in one week, too.

Crystal brought wine, I set out beer and cookies and many a bawdy tale was told involving Cabin Fever Days at a log cabin bar in Backwoods, America, about 5 miles up the [trap]'line as we say, from Rural, a barstool slalom race, and mouse races in which someone, I won't say who, was picking up the racing mice by their tales in order to sex them before the race began. She had to be reprimanded by the MC with the bullhorn, "Blonde girl, put down the mice. The race is about to begin. Blonde girl! You! Put down the mouse!" Mice that had already raced were skittering all over the floor because after each race the owner of the mouse would simply turn it loose in the bar so it could go back about its business.

I'm not sure Erika will come back after an introduction like that. We're shaping up to be a rather unusual knitting group I think.