Knitting Clinics and Paramilitary Punctuation Patrols

We had another knitting-clinic-disguised-as-a-tea-party yesterday. These are charming little affairs -- Sam and the child say hello, partake of treats, and then disappear downstairs ("Dad let me watch extra TV!" is the report from the child), and then the rest of us sit around, eat the treats, and work on textiles. Sam remarked yesterday evening that these parties are remarkably non-rowdy. Just as well, since we're all carrying pointy sticks. The main issue yesterday was Directions: How Do You Read Them, so there was some focus on that, but there was also some work on Knitting: I Know I Knew Once But Now I've Forgotten, so we worked on that, too.

We've got photos.

Here's Rita, learning Directions: They Aren't Really in Latin, whilst Amanda practices Circular Knitting: You Don't Want a Mobius Strip, No Kidding (that'd be me in the middle, translating directions) --



Here we have Julie, remembering Stuff That Got Learned Last Summer And Is Beginning to Come Back (I have no idea why my brow is so deeply furrowed. Am I trying to remember how to purl? Dunno.):



Here we have Proof That We're Open Minded, as Jenn is embroidering, sitting there next to Julie:



And here we have proof that at times we didn't do any textiles at all (though, really, both Linda and Connie, pictured here, DID knit at other times):



So there you are. Knitting content.

On other fronts, I think I should warn you that Sam, who's now been retired for about a year and a half, and has been feeling his way towards discovering his new path in life, has figured it out.

He gave me a book for Christmas, Eats Shoots and Leaves, by Lynne Truss, which he's been reading. I gather it's a delightful study of current punctuation misuses. I'm looking forward to reading it. When I get it back.

Anyway, while reading it, he's discovered his True Calling, which is that he is meant to join the militant branch of the Apostrophe Protection Society. This is going to involve going around with a can of spray paint and fixing signs. He gets SO cheerful, when he's discussing this, that it's alarming.

So I'll be bailing him out of jail, I suppose. Can't say anything about that, can I? Though I could give him some hints. I'm looking forward to the role-playing training, when he learns how to go limp when the police drag him away.

Refuse arraignment, Sam, in solidarity with the Comma Cadre!