Mossy Cottage Knits

Maui Travelogue Wrap-Up from Rainy, Snowy and Cold Seattle

Although I’m more or less done with the travelogue, I forgot to mention the most traumatic happening of the trip: the nightmare of the extraordinarily untimely towing of our rental car.

The Plan was to leave for the wedding at 5:00 p.m. At 4:55 p.m., TMK happens to glance out the window and see our unmistakably bright-blue Sebring Convertible rental being towed away, five minutes before we were supposed to leave for the wedding, five minutes before the entire reason we were on Maui in the first place. You know how, in cartoons, a cartoon character dashes off so quickly it makes the sound of a gunshot and leaves behind nothing but The Swirling Cloud of Extreme Zippiness? That’s how quickly she bolted out of the condo. Even better, you know how sometimes a cartoon character dashes off so quickly all it leaves behind is empty shoes? That also happened—literally. I turned around and there was nothing in the living room except TMK’s flip-flops, which she had cast off to better her chances of chasing down the tow truck like a rabid cheetah. No TMK, just her flip-flops.

The funniest part was that, in my own clueless, blithery, princess-y world, I was consumed with the excitement of having been able to fit a large-ish brush into a small-ish wedding purse, so excited, in fact, that I was nattering on and on about it (other princesses will understand). The nattering went something like:

“Look, TMK! I fit the brush in my purse! Isn’t that great?! That means that we can brush our hair before the wedding and that I don’t have to bring a bigger ba…

(cartoonish sound of gunshot)
…

…

TMK?”

The upshot—not our car. Just one of the hundreds upon hundreds of bright-blue Sebring Convertibles rented out on the island of Maui. We made it to the wedding in plenty of time for me to meet my future husband see the bride and groom enter a state of wedded bliss.

I also forgot to mention the hysterical shtick of the guides on the submarine tour. One memorable bit: On the way out to the submarine, the guide mentioned that we would probably see a lot of whale-watching boats. Our trip did not qualify as a whale-watching tour and “therefore, ladies and gentlemen, if you actually see a whale, Hawaiian law requires that we charge you more.” I howled. Although now, even in the telling, I’m thinking, “I guess you had to be there.”

Knitting progresses. I hope someday, God willing, to wear two matching socks out to dinner. With these socks, I continue to fall even more in love with Trekking. The fake Jacquard, fake Fair Isle self-striping yarns are fun, but the unpredictable, irregular, soft, water-color stripes of Trekking—that’s what floats my boat (or lowers my submarine; whatever fits). It doesn’t hurt that I’ve finally developed the perfect recipe for making socks out of Trekking for my feet, for making socks that actually fit, not just Pretend Fit. Oh, come on. We all know about Pretend Fit! That’s when you continue to wear a pair of socks despite the uncomfortable rubbing and pinching they cause at the end of your toes, because you knit the socks, you custom knit them specifically for yourself, and you took a long time to knit them, therefore they must fit. You’ve done it; I know you have. Personally, I have about six pairs of socks like that.

The Cotton Club project is going well. I've received beautiful, soft ribbon dishcloths from Erika and No-Blog-Rachel, and rumor has it more are on the way. This week, I emailed everyone that I know to be members of the Cotton Club with final details of the project and my address. If you need this info but didn't receive it, lemme know.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch? A very odd movie. But it doesn’t even come close to the oddest ever: I Heart Huckabees. Discuss.

Posted by Ryan at March 28, 2008 11:20 AM