Posted on May 21, 2005 at 9:08 pm

Ingredients for Knit Gathering:


Pleasant weather forecast,


Ducks in a row, including elaborate drill team navigation of entire family around oldest child’s new job and middle child’s school commencement ceremony — mandatory attendance —  for handing off boisterous toddler mid-way through the afternoon to run around on the grass while middle child sings theme from Les Choiristes in chorus and various pedagogical figures wish graduates a bright future.  Pray the loudspeaker system will drown out boisterous toddler.

Back to making ready:


Yarn to share (including 25 yards of my own homespun)


Drop spindles and fiber (because you never know who might be susceptible)
(see Ben? I didn’t forget your the blue container)


Hostess present,


Risotto a la Milanese ,

Ready . . .?  Okay, right about now, this is where things start to go wrong.

Change forecast to


Understand that Commencement will now be held under a tent, eliminating the running-around-on-the-grass option.  Resign self to waiting for end of ceremony and make phone plans to meet husband and middle child half-way, to exchange minivan-with-boisterous-toddler-strapped-into-car-seat for wagon-with-broken-tape-player-and-no-cup-holders (what do Germans have against cup holders?) for solo ride to Knit Gathering.

Print out directions. 


Wait for phone to ring.

Look at clock.

Wait some more.  Pace so much that no knitting gets done.

Call Hostess and ask if it’s okay that I show up even later.

Bless her little heart.


Entertain boisterous toddler.  Paint.  Draw.  Knock over blocks.  Imagine handing him off anyway.

Ring husband.  Get James Earl Jones’ voice telling you party is unavailable.  Remember that husband still doesn’t know how to use the vibrate function in his phone so he just turns the thing off.  Remember that he’s had this particular phone for five years.

In order to show you the most relevant events, we have omitted some entries very similar to the "wait" entries already displayed.

Watch clock creep toward event horizon, the moment when departing would mean arriving only to have to turn around to come home. Consider tears. Remember that you’re a grown up, and it would only upset the toddler to see you freak out.

Give up.

Apologize to hostess.  Listen to assembled crew hail you over the phone.  Feel a little better, and a little worse.

Welcome soaking wet family home three hours later than expected; make dinner of Risotto a la Milanese; drink glass of Neapolitan white wine. Tell husband it’s okay: there’s a spinning bee in Chemsford tomorrow if he wants to make it up to you.