It's Like the Elks Without the Secret Knock and Handshake

How I missed my Tuesday evening knitting group! I think Hubby missed me going, too. He won’t admit it, but he needs his weekly dose of “man” time that does not include me pausing at the “She cried, “NO!”” channel to see which made for t.v. true crime movie is on. Of course Hubby doesn’t really ask what goes on at knit night. I think he may be afraid to know the truth.

We are not a secret society, so for the good of all spouses everywhere, I will give a peek at what goes on during knit night.

Depending on memory, there may or may not be wine or beer. We do not, however, engage in intoxicated knitting as that wouldn’t be prudent. It causes problems following a chart, thereby screwing up your project. Then there is the whole being drunk while trying to manipulate pointy sticks issue. OSHA wouldn’t approve.

Sometimes we have food. Sometimes not. It just depends on if anyone thought to bring snacks or if we have enough hungry people to order out. Then, if the carry out driver is particularly cute, we may start ordering out a lot from one particular place in order to match up some of the singles in our group.

Neither one of the knitting groups I attend have guy knitters in them. This allows us to engage in some relationship group therapy. Before any of you spouses think that this is a bad thing, I will tell you that our knitting group has saved more than one relationship. After mentioning a particular male spouse’s idiotsyncrasy, it was discovered that the knitter did not suffer alone and that it was an idiotsyncrasy particular to the male of the species. We are also very adept at reminding our sister knitters that if they chuck current spouse for new spouse they will have to start all over again. Who really wants to start over at Grooming and Table Manners for Males 101, much less have to experience the oh-my-god-he-is-going-to-see-me-naked-for-the-first-time-and-my-butt-looks-like-two-melting-clumps-of-cottage-cheese-because-I-have-had-three-kids angst. Think about it, guys. The stash is cheaper than a marriage counselor or a divorce.

Then there are the adult continuing education courses. We have had “Anal Bleaching: What it is and why pron stars do it”; “The Swingers in Your Neighborhood: Why they have to go on Oprah and gross us out”; “Ground Hog Control: Is a paintball gun an effective method of disposing of ground hogs in your back yard”; “Nudity on Basic Cable: Why do we only get to see flabby, middle age, white guy butt”; “What to do if you aren’t sure your doctor graduated from med school”; “Menopause: Stop laughing because you’ll be here in 10 years and turn the air conditioning on”; and “Why, if you have to prostitute yourself to put gas in your car, it is better to be a Dominatrix than a pole dancer”.

My favorite part of knit night is seeing the finished projects others brings. This past week, one of our group brought her newly finished Clapotis. Although she wasn’t sure she liked it, we all thought it was absolutely gorgeous and promised to steal it from her if she didn’t like it. Although several of us may be working on the same pattern, it is always fun to see how a different yarn can produce project envy.

That’s about it, except for the secret sacrifice to the knitting goddess. All I can say is read the book Harvest Home by Thomas Tyron.