The phrase “stick to your knitting” will never be as boring as it used to be, because now there’s Knitted Porn. It’s kind of safe for work, I guess. It’s softcore with knitwear, plus explicit knit sculpture. I’m … bemused? Is that the right word.
Sticking to my own knitting, I’m spending the next couple weeks with my parents and my grandmother. I’m thinking of recording my grandmother’s various digressions and complaints and putting them into a regular podcast. Grandma complaining about random crap dot blogspot dot com. Last night she explained to me in excruciating detail how to cook a pork chop. The secret is not to overcook it. You see, if you overcook it, it gets dry.
This evening, I had dinner with my parents. They talked about their days: Lunch with graduate students, meetings with frustrating administrators. I said, “my triumph today was coming up with a new insult for Heather Mills.” Surprisingly, my parents knew who she was. That didn’t stop them from looking dismayed at the thought that their darling boy had grown up to be a professional bitch on the internet.
While I’m out with family, I’m getting back in touch with old friends. One emailed me and asked “what have you been up to” and I had to think back to when we’d last spoken. I ended up beginning with “Well, I majored in Spanish…”
Today’s friendly reunion wasn’t quite that extreme, but I met up with a friend with whom I had six years of catching up. She’d gotten married and divorced and started running marathons. I had my usual stories, but they were new to her, so not yet boring. She looks great and seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. Charlottesville is a good town to come back to, really.