As is my wont, I successfully avoided KIPping yesterday. I dunno what it is about me but I've managed to not join any events for about five years now.
But do I KIP? You betcha! Nearly every day! I knit on the train, on the light rail, in queues (that's lines for Americans - we confused a kid by queueing instead of standing in a line), in cafes and eateries, in parks... For me knitting in public is not just a once a year thing. It is almost every day. It is a lifestyle not something special.
The other day I was knitting a sock that didn't even look like this one yet
and people asked me what it was. We had a great guessing game. "It's a baby hat." I show it off a bit more, "Hmm, no it's an adult hat!" "No, it's a... umm... " "A sock!" I say. "A sock for me!"
Then we guessed where I am from. "England, right?"
"No, a bit further south." I confused them by being Australian.
"Umm, Holland?" Uh-uh.
At this point I confessed that a "bit" actually meant a LOT, like a BIG LONG WAY south. Aussies are prone to under-exaggeration (Did it hurt? Nah, only a little bit = screaming in pain) or over-exaggeration (for effect. Did it hurt! F me, yeah! I was laying there screaming like a banshee! = it hurt a bit).
"New Zealand!" Almost!
"Australia or Tasmania!"
I'll give him this much, at least he knew of Tassie, but he didn't realise it was part of Australia (whether or not my lovely Taswegian friends bicker and moan). I forgot to make sure that he didn't think NZ is part of Oz cos that really peeves our good mates across the Tasman Sea. (Though put us together in a country far far from our homes and suddenly we morph from mortal enemies to best mates.)
Anyway, got a completely frantic morning - right now I should be at the farmers' market but I am still eating breakfast. Then I have to ride into town to the Amtrak station with DH and pick up an intern (ooh la la!) and take his gear to his new digs on the bike trailer. We have two hours of stuff to fit into one hour.