Larry deserted me again to spend the weekend biking with David and his Boy Scout troop. At least he didn't have to drag David out of the house kicking and screaming like last time. I'd console myself for my loneliness by eating chocolate; but now that I have practically reached my goal weight (or, to put it more accurately, now that my goal weight has almost reached me), it seems foolish to set myself back with comfort eating. Plus, I want to pig out at Bunko on Monday night. So I will just have to knit instead. Maybe some crochet, too - for dessert.
Oooh...I wish I hadn't typed that word "dessert."
Anyway, Larry is atoning for all this spousal abandonment by agreeing to my suggestion that we drive all the way to Massachusetts to visit what is, apparently, the greatest yarn store ever (and, not so coincidentally, to hear the Yarn Harlot speak at this same store). I mean, I am going to the yarn store; he is going to keep the children amused by taking them to Sturbridge Village and whatever else he can think of to do in that area.
No expensive hotels for us, particularly as the clerks start citing fire codes and insisting that we reserve 2 rooms instead of one. Luckily, there is inexpensive military lodging nearby, which is much better, anyway. Mini kitchens, huge rooms with pull-out sofas, laundry facilities (because, really, what makes a vacation better than doing laundry - we wouldn't want me to go through withdrawal or anything over the weekend)...
Sad, isn't it, that I think of Air Force guest lodging in western Massachusetts as a resort stay? I think I need to get out more.
The very best part of this plan is that I will actually meet other knitting bloggers that I have become cyber-acquainted with over the past 6 months or so. Unfortunately, Anna heard me discussing this with Larry and said, "You're going to a strange place to see people you've met online? I thought we weren't supposed to do that."
Don't you hate it when teens are right? But what could a psychopathic knitting blogger do to me, anyway? Unravel the hat I'm knitting when I'm not looking? Handcuff me with extra-long circular needles and steal my Paton's felting wool? We're Yarn Harlot groupies, for heaven's sake; this will be more like going to a Grateful Dead concert than anything else - only we will all be wearing hand-knits rather than tie-dye, and none of us would waste our hemp by smoking it.
See? Everyone is smiling, nobody's getting hurt.
Or perhaps I'm rationalizing, and I am setting a bad example for my teenage daughter. But, determined as she is not to do anything that her totally embarrassing mother does, I do think this may be a win-win situation...