I went to the knit night at the LYS again last night, and Travis went with me. Kathleen's husband also went along, and about nine seconds after Travis walked in and shook David's hand, David announced, "Pub?" And off they went, after promising to come back and buy us yarn in return for not having to stay and "suffer" through the knitting...and hours later when the shop closed, we found them still at the pub, where it was decided to go find food, and maybe more booze. And so it was written, and so it was:
(This looks like a lot less fun than it really was, but trust me.)
We blew through two pitchers of margaritas and some pretty decent mexican food - the company was great and our
I think I got about four rounds of my Green Gable and two or three rounds of my Pomatomus sock done all total. But look how much fun we had "knitting"!
Travis thanked me for dragging him out of his "awww, but I was gonna sit on the couch tonight!" mood and taking him along. I think he was worried he was going to spend the night listening to women swap muffin recipes and clack needles. (He's not really schooled in what a Knit Night ACTUALLY is.) It always surprises us a little when going out is so much fun - we get so stuck in our rut of monotonous nights at home that we forget that leaving the house is a GOOD thing!
(Thank you, Kathleen - how HAVE I made it through the last six years??)
Oh, and thanks to the margaritas, the enchiladas, or both, I had a dream last night that I was waaay late for a training class I'm conducting today because I got on the wrong elevator and ended up at the pier. (There is not a pier anywhere near here, and in order to get to the pier, the elevator had to travel west. Yes, many elevators tend to travel north and south. But my enchilada-margarita elevator moves west.) I think I may take the stairs down to the training room today, just to be on the safe side.