So Ruby, my trusty little 1993 pickup truck, which I have vowed to drive until she is literally dropping chunks of herself in the road, was in dire need of some overdue maintenance and stuff. My dad (aka The DeeDah Person) and my bro collaborated to get Ruby in for repairs and provide me with a rented car to drive while Ruby was being nursed back to health. I ended up with a sporty little Toyota Yaris (a RED one - woot!), which I am certain would be a great car if only I were 5 feet and 2 inches call.
I'm 5 feet and 10 inches tall, though, so driving the Yaris was a bit like driving a helmet. Had maybe 2 inches of space between the top of my head and the interior roof. I suspect that the designer of this vehicle thought he was being terribly innovative and daring when he decided to put the gauge cluster in the center of the dashboard, rather than on the driver's side so that the driver can actually see the speedometer and other somewhat important gauges. I think he needs to spend a few hours driving around with one of those Don'tcha Passengers (you know, the ones who say things like "Don'tcha think you'e going a little fast? Don'tcha think you should turn here? Don'tcha think you should get some gas?"). He might then realize the folly of putting the gauge cluster out there in the middle of the dash so everybody in the car can see it (everybody but the driver, that is). Still, the Yaris got me around (and back and forth to the all-important SSA job) until Ruby's mechanic guy had her ready to go, so I can't really complain. I hurried to get the rental helmet - er, car - back to the rental place in time to avoid being charged for another day, parked myself in the lobby, whipped out my knitting, and waited for my buddy, Keith, to meet me and drive me to retrieve Ruby from the repair garage.
As I was sitting there working on the Knit Picks Essential Multi socks, the woman behind the counter kept drifting over to peek curiously at what I was doing. Then a family came in with a little girl dressed all in pink - except for her Girl Scout vest, which bore many badges. She was adorable! Cocoa brown skin; long black braids; big, liquid brown eyes, and the cutest pumpkin-toothed smile you've ever seen.
Kid took one look at me, and - I swear this is true - teleported the 20 feet between the door and where I was sitting. Poof! She appeared right next to me, and proceeded to explode with questions:
"Whatchadoing? Isthatknitting? That'sknitting,isn'tit? Whatareyoumaking? Canyoushowmehow? Isithardknittingwiththoselittlebittyneedles? Why'sthereastringontheendsoftheneedles? They'recalledneedles,right? How'dyoumakethosestripes? Canyougetdifferentcoloredstripes? What'syourname? Howlongdoesittaketodothat? Didyouworkonthatalot? Where'dyougetthatyarn? DoyouwannabuysomeGirlScoutCookies?"
Her mom came over then, wearing that "Sorry my kid is annoying you" look, which was totally unnecessary, as I love kids. I assured her that Little Miss Cutie was not being annoying at all, and proceeded to try and answer all the kid's questions. The folks were looking like they'd had better days (from overheard bits of conversation, I gathered that their vehicle had suffered a blown engine), so I kept Little Miss Cutie occupied while they made their rental arrangements. I wish I'd had my cell phone out so I could have snapped a photo of her face when I told her I was knitting socks. Her eyes popped open wide for a few seconds, and then she went, "Nuh-uh! Socks? Really? You can knit socks?"
I then showed her the socks I was wearing (orange Opals). Orange, I learned, is her next-favorite color after pink, but her mom says they don't go together at the same time. It turned out that she had received a knit-a-scarf kit for Xmas, but she hadn't done anything with it yet. After explaining to her that she probably wouldn't be able to knit socks from that kit (in response to her "Can I make socks instead of a scarf?" questions), I assured her that if she started out with knitting scarves, she could work her way up to knitting socks one day - and that it was indeed possible to knit pink-and-orange-striped socks.
Honestly, the grin on that kid's face was brighter than the sun!