For the past three years, I spent this day in rollicking chaos. The Steamboat Arts Council’s biggest fundraiser, Art in the Park, meant early mornings and late nights, starting with Friday when all of the vendors arrived and I made my contact with each one of them. The beer tent got set-up behind me while I explained the local sales tax rules and the location of each booth. On Saturday and Sunday, the same early mornings applied, but the evenings were filled with counting the crumpled dollar bills donated to support the Steamboat Arts Council and spent on beer. Each one had to be straightened and counted, put into a pile and wrapped in bundles. My sweetie would make a dinner of appetizers for my counting helper and me, and spend the evening with us straightening the bills while we counted each one twice. (Double counting. It’s a thing with non-profits. And people who want to make sure their count is accurate.) By ten, we’d be done and off to our respective beds to sleep until the next morning when it all started again.
This year, my household sits quiet. Eric and Aunt Stephanie are off on a couple of errands. If the rain holds off, they will finish erecting a tent to act as my sweetie’s workshop. Perhaps they’ll even mow the lawn. I’m writing alone in my office with only knitting in my plans for the weekend.
Speaking of which, Eric’s summer socks are progressing.
The short legs make these socks feel like they knit up so quickly. Even with my curtailed knitting time, I’ve already worked through the heel and gusset and am into the long, long journey that is his foot.
Perfect timing for the Wimbledon weekend! All that stockinette allows me to knit row after row while never missing a bounce of the ball.
The cloudy sky thrills me in a way only a knitter (or reader) can imagine. The promise of rain for Saturday (and maybe Sunday) means no guilt about sitting and knitting for an entire day.
I haven’t had a good day of knitting since Christmastime. I promise I will take frequent breaks to rest my hands, I will do all my hand stretches at regular intervals, and I will slather my hands with my CBD lotion to keep them in tip-top shape.
I’d say “scout’s honor” but I never was a scout so you’ll just have to take the word of a preacher’s kid.
A grown-up preacher’s kid who wants this healing trend to continue so many more of these quiet knitting Saturdays can follow.
Good Luck to my friends as they construct that festival, making sure everyone’s paperwork is in place, dealing with emergencies, finding enough water to keep security well-hydrated. I wish them strength in their journey over the weekend as well as a great turnout and the most amazing donation amount ever!
I’ll be in North Carolina, holding this chair down for you.
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