I went to Mass tonight at 5 so I could grab a bite with a friend of mine afterwards, and so I can sleep in tomorrow before the family BBQ. We were walking down the street to the restaurant, and a cute guy on a bike, as he went by, looked straight at me and whistled.
Yes, for some women that's no biggie. For others it would be offensive. For me, it was like a lovely little shot of adrenaline or something. Nice. I was probably 25 the last time I was whistled at.
My friend and I had dinner and discussed Catholic radio (sometimes annoying, sometimes aggravating, sometimes cool); our parish's Mass (good homilies for the most part; music we really dislike); the new cathedral (mixed reviews, but I haven't been inside yet); the Latin Mass (we love it), confession, work, politics, and food.
I got a latte at Starbucks on the way to the car so I can use it as a model on which to slip the coffee cuffs I'm knitting for co-workers for Christmas. Maybe I'll start one of those tomorrow for BBQ knitting. Hmm.
I had a bizarre knitting episode earlier.
I’m knitting a simple scarf in mesh stitch: p, yo, p2tog, repeat repeat repeat. You’d think it would work with multiples of four stitches, and in a pre-frogging incarnation, it did.
I tried about four times this afternoon to get it to work on 36 stitches (somewhat heavy yarn).No (x4). It’s working now… on 37.
Say what?
This is why I'm not a math and science person -- a four-stitch repeat has given me a headache!
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