A friend of mine is making one of these, and yesterday I decided that I needed one, too. SO, I went downstairs, found four skeins of yarn that will work, drove to the yarn store, purchased three more skeins, and here we go. Impulse knitting!
Jeff left town yesterday for Florida, so I arranged for my kids to spend the night at my parents’ house. My original intention was to go for an evening run and then spend the rest of the night spinning. Instead, I went for a run at 3:00 (on a treadmill. It was terrible.), met a friend for a martini (or two), bought underwear for the girls (because that’s what I do for the first day of school), and then came home and watched the Olympics until the dogs decided it was time to go to bed (10:45). Excellent night.
Today I’m lunching (I’ve got big thoughts, big dreams and a big brown Mercedes sedan) with a few friends from high school at The Blue Owl. Tomorrow I’ll be delivering checks to teachers. Friday will find me rubbing yarn on my neck in Chicago.
Let’s see. What else? I finished Catching Fire (liked it), I’m now reading Mockingjay (liking it), and I’m gearing up to hit Gone Girl. (The library just called. It’s ready for me.)
Thanks to Tempe, I’ve eaten this for the past three meals.
Wait. I need your opinion. As you know, I don’t eat meat and I’m doing fairly well on my journey (journey!!!) to give up dairy. Occasionally I find myself at Subway. A few months back, I ordered a veggie sandwich, and the employee asked if I’m a vegetarian. When I told her that I am, she changed her gloves. When her co-worker asked why, she said, “I just made a turkey sandwich. If you’re a vegetarian, you don’t want turkey hands to touch your vegetables!” I almost jumped over the counter to French kiss her, because: Yes. I am the vegetarian who won’t eat the veggie kabobs if they held hands with the chicken kabobs on the grill. (I KNOW! I can hear your eyes rolling!!!)
Since that day, no other Subway employee has changed their gloves to make my sandwich. AND, I don’t have the guts to ask them to change their gloves, because who am I? They’re doing their best to make (delicious) sandwiches and get out of there without a bunch of grief from a jerk like me. I’ve made it a practice to not pay any attention to what the person in front of me has ordered, because I just don’t want to know if beef fingers are touching my bread.
A few days back, we went to Subway for dinner. I ordered a veggie sandwich. The employee did not change her gloves. Harper looked up at me and said, “She just touched turkey, and now she’s touching your bread.” This will sound crazy to you, but: I almost couldn’t eat the sandwich. (Thanks, Harper. Gheez.) So here’s my question: Is it too much to ask an employee to change their gloves before making a vegetarian sandwich? (I hate confrontation so much. I hate creating work for someone else even more than I hate confrontation. I don’t want to be the lady that deserves a million eye rolls.) Should I simply go back to the faraway Subway and ask for the schedule of the girl who understands me?
(Please don’t tell me I’m ridiculous. I have people in my family who will take care of that for you.)