Clearly Kate has not had enough with the house guests, and is entertaining Ysolda this week, but I am still smiling about my little visit a whole week ago
(time sure flies when you have a house to clean) when Kate's bff Irene
and I descended upon her fold-out couch and limited power outlets. It's true, we bypassed the bagels, but Irene lives in New York and I have Abraham's in Newburyport. I grew up in the Maritimes, so I am aware of the national reputation that Montreal bagels have in Canada, but the bagels, they are not so unusual south of the 49th parallel. They are as common as squirrels here in New England, and usually respectable if not excellent. It was the croissant that we gorged upon instead. So forgive me my carb preferences.
As an aside: I had a high school friend in New Brunswick, son of the local construction mogul, whose much older brother flew a helicopter since he had lost his car license for too many DUI's (seriously). The family regularly flew up to Montreal for their Canadiens season's tickets, and often there would be bagels dropped off around the neighborhood when they returned, much like in the days before the Napoleonic donut wars, I used to deliver Krispy Kreme donuts to my Yankee friends after my family visits in South Carolina. These are the kind of little things that people remember at your funeral, you know? But anyway . . .
When you stuff three knitting dorks in a small apartment, before too long you get crumbs, yarn, empty wine bottles and mumbling husbands. So the knitting dorks went out to . . . the yarn store, natch. Ariadne Knits in St. Henri, a stone's throw from the Atwater Market, and a jewel of a shop: colourful yarns, cute knit critters everywhere, Ozark Mountain Handspun (a first sighting for me, dear chums), two huge chintz couches, and a bottomless teapot. Not to mention croissant on the Sunday morning we were there, and a wheel that Molly Anne was checking out, having spun her first yarn ever the day before. What more could a whack of knitting dorks want more? Except to hang out with other knitters, who filed in and out all day, including Mona Schmidt (designer of the Embossed Leaves socks Ravelry link), and the good humour of yarn store
owners hostesses Molly Anne and Mary. They know how to make a foreign knit dork feel at home.
It was a long and delightful day on the couch, the one on the right, next to the fireplace, where the slant of the April afternoon sun warms the cushions, and the table is in just the right place for your cup. If you settle there yourself and find it a bit lumpy, it's because there is now a permanent dent in the exact shape of my arse.