Noro on petunias

Why yes, it does look a little reptilian doesn't it? Actually it's the second front of my Noro shawl-collared jacket posing on the potted petunias in the patio of my father's nursing home. I was sitting out there yesterday, enjoying the sun and doing some knitting while I waited for dear ol' dad to finish up his nap. He never did. I'm always reluctant to wake him because I'm sure that in his dreams he's walking and dancing and flying his airplane. Real life isn't nearly as exciting these days.

I don't do very much knitting in public (known among knitters a "KIP"). But it's interesting how much conversation it generates from total strangers. Most people are drawn over to check out the colors. Noro yarn is certainly colorful, and it knits up into a wonderful striped effect. Others stop by to tell me they used to knit, or they want to learn. A few even say, "Wow, that looks like a lot of work." Right away that's a clue that these folks will never be knitters. Real, true "dyed-in-the-wool" knitters would never refer to knitting as work.

Then along came Kathryn. She just appeared at my side in her wheelchair. On Friday I shared the elevator with her and her daughter as they were returning from the dentist where poor Kathryn had just had a tooth pulled. Even with the gauze in her mouth, she had a smile. She always has a smile. We had a most pleasant conversation in which she told me she was 95 and had spent a long career as a school teacher. She taught domestic sciences. When I was in school that was called Homemaking. She asked me how old I was. I guess when you're 95, you have that right. When I told her, she seemed quite surprised and told me I certainly didn't look it. I think I'll be hanging out with Kathryn again....

So yesterday morning I walked up to the drug store on the corner to get a few things, and while I was leaving I noticed packages of false eyelashes for sale. I remember a time in my life when I wore them everyday. They weren't the flashy ones you might see on Miss Piggy or Las Vegas showgirls. They were much more subtle. I was introduced to them in charm school, something my mother signed me up for with the hope that it would help me with my shyness. Mr. Gadget can't believe that I was once shy, so I guess my mom made a wise investment.

I don't remember much else about charm school, but I do remember the eyelashes. I'm not sure whether or not I was wearing them on the night I met Mr. Gadget. I might have already passed through the eyelash phase by then. But it would be fun to try them again--for old-time sake. I wonder if he would notice? He might think I look a little peculiar. He might even start laughing. If that happens, I'll just have to refer to them as doll supplies.......