Clapotis

I just did a brief search (if by brief search one could mean 'spent hours and hours neglecting children') on the word clapotis.
My Dearest Husband of yarn procurement came home from work today and said "oh hon, I was laughing my tukkus off reading yarn harlots blog and it was so funny how she was being teased about this clap....er....clippy....clotter...... clappaloctopuss.....whatever. Have you read about that?"

Thats right, you read me right people, he was READING knitting blogs. I was miles away and I happen to know he already ordered my birthday present so he had searched her out on his very own JUST to read! Muhuwahahahahahahaaaaa. It boggles the mind to realize just how close he is to being ensnared by the yarny goodness of it all. He is going to be knitting by the end of the year, I just know it.

Of course that sent me to the Harlot site, and then naturally I googled and came up with Crazy Aunt Purl and random other knitting blogs that for the life of me I can't remember their names right now (sorry). It was hysterical. That Crazy Aunt Purl is southern siren call for misplaced knitting belles. Reading her bits and pieces of life made me think of my friends I love and miss so much, who are all still firmly planted in the only sane place left in the world. The Deep South. Now granted, it can only be considered sane by those of us that come from there. To the rest of the world we are genteel at best (that means we gots manners AND grits) and some weird unedumacated road kill eating hollywood idea of a southener at worst. I pity the sap who takes cultural information from tv and movies, I mean, good grief.
In the midst of all this my favorite obsessive knitter pinged me on the messenger harrassing me into coming back to PA for Harlots book tour. I can completely see the rip roaring fun in going, only, like 3 days later, she is going to be here in my neck of the woods. I realize Friday night shindigs tend to be abit wilder than 2 PM Sunday afternoon get ups, I just don't know if I am prepared to abandon my shorties again so soon. Last time the car I left them with literally broke down and stranded them at the store in the coldest weather of the year :-S
Now, Himself has not complained one bit about that, but my youngest 2 have hardly let me out of their sight since. I wonder if they fear for their survival if left in their beloved Dads clutches again? "Mommmmmm he took us shopping at NIGHT in the COLD and broke the CAR! and it was COLD! and you never would have done that huh mom huh? Would you? No. See, he doesn't quite know what he is doing. Yes, he is Dad, and we love him, and we know he means well, but shopping? At night? In the COLD? what if he tries to shift us outta our warm house of childish play again hmmmmm? You think about that mom? You want to go traipsing off to get strung out on string and leave us behind again so soon? Can't you see how fresh those wounds are mom?"
Or maybe thats my own mommy guilt.

Ah well, we shall see, yus?

And I did it yall. I never ever thought I would see the day, but I went and done did it. I bought yarn porn. 2 magazines as a matter of fact. Vogue and Knit1. My stomach fluttered inside that Walgreens like a mighty flock of hummingbirds on coffee. I NEVER buy magazines. Ever.
I bought 2 of them bad boys at once.
Himself is really starting to worry about me now. Books were fine. He has known all along I was a bibliophile, he knows books are likely to come home with me. He knows library cards are pretty useless as I am driven to own the words I read. So when knitting books began to arrive, he took it with quiet resolve and I do think a touch of pride in his bride. Perhaps he reasoned that it would cut into my yarn budget and I would have less projects on the needles (silly man)?
But today when I walked through that door with my 2 bottles of conditioner and TWO knitting magazines, well, I just don't think he was sure I was quite right in the head. Who was this woman, this stranger who looked just like his wife in the living room? This woman who once went on a two week tirade about magazine companies and their subversive effects on our culture and the pure and total waste of perfectly good paper and ink that could be put to better use, like say, in BOOKS? She has a vendetta against magazines that rivaled only her 17 year feud with bobbins. Now here she stands with two in her clutches, and does not even have the decency to blush.

Naturally I went straight into the bathroom, closed and locked the door and then drew a steamy bath.

Mmmmmmmmm yarn porn and bubbles, who needs the clapotis when ya got that?