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And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday. |
Yesterday I decided to bring some knitting to school. I wanted to look up the details of a new technique on the school computer, and this way I figured I could try it out and make sure I understood. I already had all my copying done, so I had all of recess to grapple with the stitch. So I'm sitting there in the teachers' lounge with my back to the sunny playground, a pile of house vocab handouts in front of me, a tiny muddle of silver wool in my lap. Gisele (my boss/the principal) and I had been talking about knitting when Olivier (the scruffy one Hillary thinks is hot) came in. He did an exaggerated double take and asked incredulously, "You're knitting??" Without missing a beat, Gisele jumped in and chortled, "She's knitting herself a thong." The idea was so absurd that I didn't even bother to refute it, and that decision was followed by Olivier standing there staring at me for a solid thirty seconds, at which point Gisele glibly added, "He's trying to picture you in it." This was perhaps one of the most embarrassing moments of my teaching career. I was just weeding through some old e-mails trying to find my crafster password (I know, exciting life I have...) and I ran across an old e-mail to Kelsey which ended: P.S. Did I mention that the guy who wrote the first Rambo book is stalking my parents? Haha, that was a crazy time, wasn't it? Bohemian rhapsody is playing in the cyber cafe, it's uber windy and quiet out tonight, and it's all good.
Wool bikinis: Flirting with disaster at 8:10 p.m.
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