I live next to a yarn store. I never knew there was money in yarn, but there is. The place is a gold mine. The parking lot is always full. Beyond selling yarn and needles and patterns and bags, etc, etc, the store also offers classes. One of my favorite teachers, not my teacher, I'm not taking a knitting class, not that there's anything wrong with it, and I might try it some day. But rather one of the teachers I get a kick out of carries a big brown briefcase, within which I can only imagine she carries her needles. If I were taking her class I'm sure I'd be a nervous wreck that first day as she'd arrive with her briefcase. I'd stare transfixed as she'd come in, slam the briefcase on the table, and in a thick German accent declare "Za first rrrule of knitting is zee shoezing of zee apprrrroprrrriate needules." And with that she'd flick open the clasps of the locks, a glow would emanate like that scene in Pulp Fiction, and with an audible gasp from the class extract long gleaming needles, with a sparkle in her eye and a demonic smile on her face.
The End.
you should really take the class just to find out.
Posted by: jody | March 12, 2007 at 09:18 AM