Take a Guide.

Terry and I honeymooned in London, back in the go-go-eighties when European jaunts were reasonably priced. I loved everything about England, (the Orient Express! Windsor Castle! Bangers and mash! Starlight Express! Pimm's Cup!) but one of my favorite days was spent with a personal guide. The Take-A-Guide agency assigned a guide and car to create a custom tour of the city. We were dropped off at the front door of the Tower of London and Harrod's, had lunch in a pub far off the beaten tourist track, visited our guide's neighborhood, chatted about everyday life in the city, strolled from curbside to the front entrance of several museums, and generally had a wonderful time.

Today, I was Take-A-Guide for the teen and tween. We talked about several options, then I took them on a Magical Mystery Tour of the surreal and ordinary.

• Little Five Points continues to be a jaw-dropping experience for our suburban sensibilities. The tatooed dudes strolling into the package store and manning the cash register at A Capella Books were fascinating and intimidatingly strange at the same time.
• Junkman's Daughter, with all its highly inappropriate stock, had the tween rolling her eyes and the teen begging me to leave because it was too darned embarrassing to even be near that stuff with mom nearby.
• Savananda is a delightful cooperative grocery in Little Five Points. We got Scooter the Wonder Dog a bone (we don't really believe it's organic) and a few snacks for later.
  
• Morningside is where old Greensboro friends lived in their young-marrieds-before-kids days. We like to envision them as urbanites because they are staunchly Old Greensboro today.
• We stopped at Manuel's Tavern to talk about city politics and the way people like to work things out over food and drink. That segued to a discussion about how television portrays bars - "That's where people go to get drunk, Mom. Why would you go to someplace like that?" So we talked about stereotypes and exaggeration for effect. I also added "and not until you're 21."
• Oxford Comics is a treasured resource for Free Comic Book Day (which was today) and an ever-growing selection of anime and manga. The teen ran into another DHS Anime Club member, an unexpected bonus.
• I looked longingly at Knitch as we passed. Didn't go in. Really wanted to.
  
• We explored our favorite used book store, the Book Nook at Clairmont and North Druid Hills, and left with a stack of books to enjoy. Required reading is right around the corner, but at least there are still a few weeks left to savor pleasure reading.
• Zesto's! Usually, we visit the Ponce location, but today we were closer to Buckhead, so we called T and he met us for burgers, nachos and shakes. I had the turkey burger (gotta act like a grown-up), which I chose all martyr-like, then enjoyed tremendously.
• When we drive through Buckhead, we always point to the two buildings where T has worked. We much prefer the current location, right across from Lenox Mall.
• The DeKalb Airport still fascinates us. Small, nearly toy like airplanes leap into the sky. Such freedom. Such no-way-you'd-ever-get-me-in-one-of-those shakes of the heads as we watch.
• Last stop, the Dunwoody library, because the tween had another book on hold.
  

We took our time, talked nonstop, shared memories, and had a very special day together.

I wish I had time to knit . . .

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee rocks! I was one of 700 lucky knitters who packed the Milan Theater in Atlanta's trendy Midtown, just around the corner from hosting LYS Knitch. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution sent a bemused photographer and wrote a typically condescending article. Head-shaking passersby murmured, "what's the big deal?" as we stood in line for an hour before the doors opened for the knit-in portion of the event. And we merrily knitted away, happy to just BE.

A wonderful non-knitter stood in line next to me, letting me wind a ball of yarn from a skein I'd just purchased at Knitch for a Calorimetry (which I began and was just one row away from finishing by the time the Yarn Harlot wrapped up). I saw gals with tattoos next to ladies in pearls, tweens in plaid bermudas and guys in pressed chinos and button-downs . . . it was the usual can't-pin-us-down crowd.

The Harlot opened her marvelous "lecture" with a treatise on the stupid stuff people say to knitters. Fave - "I wish I had time to knit," with its implication that while we're idling away at something unimportant, the speaker has so many more meaningful and busy things to do.

Which made me think of some other gems:

"There you go again. Do you knit all the time?" Sure. I don't go to work or take care of my kids or cook meals or do chores or write or tend to a thousand different details of daily life. I just knit. All the time.

"I saw a sweater/socks/scarf/hat/bag just like that at Target." No, you didn't. What you saw was cheap, machine-made goods with no soul. This is hand-made meditation.

"My grandmother used to crochet." I'm knitting. And while I'm likely as old as your grandma was when you were a kid, I'm not your grandmother.

"I've always wanted to learn how to knit. I guess I need to take some classes." Or you could just sit down this minute, let me show you a few stitches, and get started. (I offer every time.) It really isn't rocket science.

Aaahhh. I feel much better.

Pearl-McPhee also talked about her just-blogged fiasco of an AM wake-up, when all of her alarms failed her - or not. She awakened at 5:30 am, half an hour past her wake-up call, and blasted the front desk. Only to learn that it was actually 4:30 am and that her room clock was wrong.

That has SO happened to us at one time or another.

Then Delta lost her luggage (filled with 30+ skeins of yarn and a few items of clothing).

Despite the chaos, she gave us so much of herself. And we are deeply appreciative.

Thanks, Yarn Harlot! May your luggage catch up with you before the next step on your whirlwind speaking tour!

What fruit can never get married?

Cant-elope. That's the gem my groggy daughter shared as she staggered out of bed this morning. She thinks her thoughts at the oddest times and they burst out unhindered by time or setting or company. So instead of "good morning," she gave me the joke she'd just thought of when I awakened her at 6:30.

It's misty and humid outside. Rain is coming again in droughty Atlanta. We're still on major water restrictions, but our gardens and lawns are bursting thanks to the overindulgence of rain this March. Go figure. The gardens around the Dunwoody Farmhouse are lovely as ever. Too bad Chesnut House still suffers from benign neglect. I'm hopeful that once the residents of Dunwoody have a city we can take better care of our special places.

I'm eager for Sunday to come. I scored one of the few tickets for the Yarn Harlot's impending visit, thanks to Knitch. I'm taking a rare break from family and duties to spend an afternoon among kindred spirits. I'll have yarn in hand and will not feel the least self-conscious about knitting while I listen since hands will be flying all around me.