Twice a week, I get to spend two hours in the college parking lot waiting for my son to get finished with his history class. We live a distance from the college and with the price of gas, it is more advantageous to our budget for me to park and stay put. I actually enjoy my two hours of 'free' time in order to work on crocheting/knitting projects that I don't have time to work on at home.
This morning, like all the other school mornings, I grabbed my crocheting bag and followed my son out the door to the car. For once, we got off in a timely manner, traffic was smooth, and I got my favorite parking place. My son sauntered off to this calls and I reached for my crocheting. My yard was there, my instruction book was there, but dig as I might (and several times over!), my trusty crochet hook was not in the bag. With a very deep sigh, I recalled using it the night before to finish off the border on an afghan and setting it on my side table instead of directly back into my bag. I'm there with two hours, no book or magazine and absolutely no crochet hook.
I called my husband for sympathy and he gave me a verbal 'there, there' understanding my frustration. Okay, the phone call used us three of my two hours of minutes. I listened to the news and searched under the car seats for any kind of reading material. I was reading a coupon booklet from the grocery store (fascinating prose, by the way - sarcasm alert!) when my cell phone rang and it was my husband. He said he had to head into work early and could drop by with my crochet hook so where was it. I happily said it was on the table by my chair. He looked and asked, "There is a silver one and a gold one here." I didn't remember having a silver one but the one I had been using was sort of yellowish gold. My husband has some colorblindness so I didn't quibble over his kindess and said to just bring both.
Twenty minutes later, he pulls up and hand me the two items and I just started laughing. He had brought an orange and a pink knitting needle. Luck was with us and he didn't feel too badly as the needles were the same size and I said I could begin knitting a scarve or shawl.
My husband says he now knows for sure what a crochet hook is but I had to remember that it took him awhile to recognize a paisley pattern! The remark brought back memories when we had to bring all four of our much younger children with us to the fabric store. Everyone wanted to help. One day, I really needed to concentrate so when my husband asked what I was looking for, I said I needed him to go find paisley-patterned fabric. He happily went off with the four children. A few minutes later, my older son was yanking on my sleeve. He said, "Dad wants to know, what's paisley?"
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