As noted previously, the drive to West Seattle is treacherous no matter which route one takes. My friend Laura, who actually lives there, has also recently documented this. Rebecca loves going to West Seattle, and I agree that it is a pleasant place, with its cozy downtown, comfy looking homes, and lovely beaches. But I have a horror of driving there – due to the “fear of the bridge” factor. So, at her suggestion, we rode the bus for our long overdue outing to visit Littleknits, for me to purchase a gift for a friend, and for Rebecca’s to buff up her yarn stash. I was not going to add anything to mine. Definitely not! It was a pleasant walk downtown to catch the bus and then an almost stress free ride to our destination. I had not realized that we would need to go via the Alaskan Way Viaduct, and naturally, as our bus approached the viaduct on-ramp, I had visions of earthquakes with crumbling columns flinging our bus through the air and then to the ground far below, dashing it and us to pieces. I am happy to report that the earth did not quake as we made our way over the viaduct or the bridge, and I forgot to worry about it on the return trip. The viaduct was actually so disconcerting that I also forgot to worry about the bridge altogether. Actually my concerns about the bridge are not about it collapsing, but rather about finding the correct exit ramp. Seattle exits are all too frequently not marked until it is too late to change into the necessary lane, and since the exits could be either on the right or the left – with no logic to their placement - unless you actually know well in advance where the exit will be, driving can be traumatic. I finally realized that I didn’t need to worry about this at all, as the bus driver was assuredly familiar with the exit system, but I am just programmed to worry about any trip to West Seattle.
We arrived in one piece – two pieces really, as there were two of us, and were greeted by Louis, one of the world’s sweetest dogs. I have a horror of having too many knitting projects going – more than one for which concentration is needed to knit at home in private, and another requiring no brain at all for knitting in public – that is my preferred limit. Any more, and I feel the ever present Catholic guilt, although why, I couldn’t say, as the idea of knitting being a guilt producer is pretty ridiculous. Some of us are more guilt ridden than others. That much is obvious. I had only entered into temptation’s way because I was purchasing a gift. I had no intention of buying unneeded yarn for myself. Indeed I had not. However, the primary temptation was bright silky yellow shot with deep red. What a lovely shawlette it would make. The little angel and devil on the opposing shoulders were there, but the angel was fairly quiescent. The devil, on the other hand, in the form of the yellow silkiness and Rebecca herself whispering how happy I would be if I had it, she had just the perfect pattern to lend me, etc., were right there tempting me on. Naturally, I succumbed. Now I have to force myself even harder to finish my (very long term) current project, a sweater which will be wonderful when finished, but which has become, dare I say it? Supremely tedious. I might just have to knit a few stitches to try it out.