You can probably guess that I met Phylly and Margaret at "The Heath Bar" (really The Olive Garden) for lunch. Poor Margaret had a bright magenta and purple upper cheek from being clobbered by a falling umbrella. OUCH!
Heath was our waiter, of course, and he was at the top of his game. I ordered something that wasn't even on the menu, and Heath went in the kitchen and MADE IT HIMSELF so I could have it. It was awesome too. I told him it was the best meal I had in my whole life -- and it was. Shrimp-covered Talapia with breadcrumbs mixed with some deliciousness, fresh asparagus buttered and cooked just right and angel hair pasta with a light buttery-lemon sauce. YUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEE!
Phylly ate a weird sandwich with gigantic meatballs in it. I have never liked meatballs, so I wasn't impressed. Margaret didn't even order a meal, so I shared mine with her. She agreed it was very good.
When I came home, I told Jerry about Heath, my favorite waiter in the world.
Not the first time he's heard it, of course.
He just rolled his eyes as he always does when I tell him my waiter stories.
Remember the story about the waiter that actually FED ME my very first crab legs because I didn't know what to do with them. I'm surprised Jerry didn't crawl under the table. We were very young then -- compared to now anyway!
So, that wasn't anything new or different. BUT, the day wasn't over.
I came back home, and I started to get into our work computers to fill out the Worker's Compensation report that has to be turned in every month. No sooner did I get on the server, my daughter, Tammy, called me. She asked what I was doing and said she wanted to go to a yarn store. I said, "Come get me, and I'll go with you." I have been crocheting lately, so I figured I could find SOMETHING to buy at a yarn store.
She picked me up and off we went. We arrived at a cute little store in the elbow of a shopping strip, and we went in. Tammy buzzed around like a bumble bee showing me this and that and something else. I was LOST, of course. I asked if they had a pattern for a crocheted top I saw in a magazine. NOPE, they didn't. I asked if they had a pattern LIKE it. NOPE, they didn't. They had mostly knitting patterns.
Then Tammy decided she was going to TEACH me how to knit. I did not want to learn how to knit. You know WHY? Can you guess?
It is my genes -- and Tammy has the same ones. They are those genes that make you buy every single item related to a hobby and find a place to store it somewhere in your already-full house. I think I have THIRTEEN sewing machines right now, and I won't even try to guess how many miles of fabric I have.
Anyway, Tammy wanted to show me. She asked for some knitting needles and some yarn. She found a table for us to sit at, and the lessons began.
I was TERRIBLE. I put the little loops on SOOOOOOO TIGHT that we couldn't get the other needle through them.
Tammy cracked up laughing and said she did the exact same thing, at first.
She pulled off all the too-tight loops, and I started again.
I tried to copy what she showed me, but the yarn was falling all over the place and my little circles on the needle were still attached as though I had put Super Glue under each one.
Tammy decided that I was evidently NOT going to be a Rocket Scientist of knitting, so she decided I should start with a potholder -- or was it a dish cloth. Whatever it is, I managed to mess it up on the third row, and it is now awaiting my teacher's return.
This was really fun and totally new to me. It is a twirly whirly thing that turns your yarn into a little ball.
Phylly is almost here for lunch today. I've got to run. Check back soon, and I just MIGHT have a dish cloth to show you.