Guys & Dolls... with string

As it's already 'tomorrow', I thought I'd better get these pics up, not because I know y'all are curious, not because I fear the Gaylen, but because I couldn't rest easy knowing I was depriving you of this face right here. Behold knitting's poster child for "knitting 'cuz the prof said I had too"... awwww. Don't you just want to pinch him? Yeah, or something like that.

This little bit of the cuteness was named 'Leslie' and she's darling. Brightest smile I've seen all week, as the Melly has been a bit preoccupied and I haven't laid eyes on her in what feels like forever. Anyhoo, Miss Leslie took to knitting right off, even with the rocky start that some of the students had...

See, there were Others there. 'Knitterly' types that had volunteered to 'assist' with the indoctrination class, and though I couldn't be everywhere, I kept my eyes and ears open. And I heard it. Someone was teaching backward loop as the cast on. I blanched. I ground my teeth. I muttered curses under my breath. I took some calming breaths, thanked God for my doctor and Xanax, and threw up a little in my brain. Then I long-tailed it around the room, startling some of the students as I ripped the needles from their hands, casting on quickly whilst telling them that casting on wasn't nearly so fun and "here, let me just do this for you so you can get to the good part, the knit stitch". I promise no one got hurt. I didn't get asked to leave. I didn't even throw the justified scathing looks (well, maybe one) to the offending knitters. I'm not a purist, but seriously, backward loop? Ugh.

Surprisingly, there were a few naturals in the group, just not rabid about the knitting thing. Yet. I whipped out a few things in progress and the recently finished 'Air Kiss' sock. These guys wouldn't be impressed, but they had valid looks of concentration on their faces, so I gave it a rest. No sense begging for that security escort off campus...

And then I made my way over to this little pod of students. They were all so charming (our poster boy is of this group, out of the frame, just to the left of 'Henley shirt dude with grey yarn'). I chatted knitting with the perky girl, helped the dark haired boy loosen his dish-rag cotton stitches, then I stayed to watch them knit. Would you believe that, aside from the very pretty girl who wouldn't be photographed, he was the most natural knitter? Even hamstrung with kitchen cotton on aluminum needles. *shudder* I decided to let him put some of his knitting mojo in the 'Eclipse' socks... plus I thought the recipient might like to see who her sock has been hanging out with. She's a sucker for a pretty face.

There was a tricky bit at the end, when I was answering questions about how I find time to knit, what with all the kids/shop/spouse/laundry. I mentioned knit groups and pub crawls and that elicited startled gasps and stares. Suddenly I was a wrinkled old crone who'd just taken the name of beer in vain. What? We're too mature for that kind of behavior? Too responsible to drag the handknits into a bar?
I didn't realize until much later in the day how indignant that made me feel, and it all came tumbling out in a flood of angry tears. Youth is wasted on the young. I'd like to get ahold of the nineteen year old I used to be and smack her in her head. Of course it would have been easier to get ahold of these children and smack them in the head, but again, "security escort". I refrained from looking shocked and appalled, and was mightily relieved the session was over. I did tell perky girl to take loads of photos of herself, because one day she's going to see a picture and wonder why her mother is wearing her clothes. *snark* C