Sean Connery is the whole nine yards!

Nearly finished, here's the (Cascade 'Fixation') footie I've been making for Audrey's work clogs along with a nice shot of Beano's head. I'm usually too tired (a very early riser) to do too much of an evening and being shy it is always a struggle for me to do new things, but last night I grabbed my knitting, sans kitty, and attended a Tuesday night knitting circle at my favorite yarn shop, Borealis Yarns in St. Paul. It was one of those bright, late spring evenings perfect for a drive to a wonderful older part of the city. The group was a mixture of gender and ages, and all very proficient and prolific knitters. I knew it would be hard for me to concentrate for too long surrounded by all that beautiful yarn just waiting to be gathered and touched. Not to mention that the conversation was lively so that the toe I was knitting ended up on the side of the foot instead of the top. . .ribbit!



One of the knitters came from Cathedral Hill where Garrison Keillor lives and has his Common Good bookstore. She mentioned she's seen him at the Mississippi Market Co-Op on occasion looking rather somber. Then the conversation veered to kilts as one of the knitter's husband is a Scot and he and his brothers wear authentic kilts. Her funny story involved these men attending a wedding, arriving in one car and the looks on the wedding guests' faces when all these big guys jumped out, wearing 'skirts.' So this segued into a trivia question about the origin of the phrase 'the whole nine yards.' Turns out that it refers to the amount of yardage it takes to make a kilt: 6-7 yards for an average bloke, 8 yards for a bigger man and if he is really giant (in stature and reputation, I'd guess) he would need 'the whole 9 yards.'


One more turtle sighting yesterday. There are several swirling 'circles' in the rocky soil at the top of the hill leading down to the lake. These intrepid reptiles have been making this trek up and down the steep hill for over a week, apparently to lay eggs. Being more careful where I place my feet on that stretch of sidewalk I nearly walked past another big specimen with her shell just teetering on her back. She must have been in some sort of turtle ennui because all of her legs and belly were just sticking out of her shell and not moving, I wasn't sure if she was alive or not. Then she moved slightly, looked at me (You again?!) slowly folded up her body parts, and tucked in under her shell. The word on the street is that a snapping turtle can cause a curious dog a lot of pain. When the big wet canine nose gets too close the turtle snaps its jaw open and shut, clamping on tightly. All this 'water' sport is so new to me, having come from the dusty potato fields where rattlers are the ones to watch out for.