Take Back the Knit

Two quick comments (oh please) on why knitters are the grooviest. First, because they bring you random gifts such as these:


Knitty Yoda brought these to Knit Night for me as she knows two of The Hubba's favorite food items are fried okra and fried green tomatoes (to eat with fried chicken, can you tell the boy is Southern?). She got these vegetables from... wait for it... her garden. I'm not kidding folks, she must be stopped before she takes over the world. Or maybe not. Maybe we should let her at it. We'd all wear fine handmade garments and eat fresh organic foods. Yoda for President perhaps? Hmm...

Secondly, never realized the fierceness of knitters. I thought my Tae Kwan Do classmates were intimidating, but they look like the Care Bears compared to these girls. Knitty Yoda and Sharon (brought in by Mrs. Knotty, score one for her- who by the way- where were you tonight Miiizz Knotty? Mm-hm, you were Eggspected and sorely Mizzed) insisted on staying with me at the store while I closed up tonight. As I showed them out, they lectured me on Most Sensitive Body Parts to Attack, Pointiest Keys to Use and special guest stars on "The Facts of Life" (to bore said attacker to death, I guess). Mind you, the shop is in a very nice part of sleepy downtown right across from the police station. It did not matter. They would have followed me to my car had I not locked them out. Had a sudden image of some poor assailant trying to steal my knitting bag, five-months-preggers Knitty Yoda hanging off his back, choking him with her circular needles while Sharon jabbed him in the eyes ("a key body point") with her crochet hook. Don't think they wouldn't have.

As I left the parking lot, I saw a car come in and thought, "huh, what nutter is"- until I saw Knitty Yoda's bright red head and white face staring out of the window wearing a "bring it on" expression. She saw my car, gave me a cool nod and headed home to her husband and three-year-old boy. We're a scary bunch. And yet I'm oddly proud of my knittin' girls.

Yarn Power, ya'll.