Knitting? What Knitting?

I'm a little blase right now about what's on the needles. Tonight I'm hoping to get started on the second toe of my first Magic Loop socks so I can move forward with two socks on one circ. I'll let you know how that goes.

It's not like I don't have plenty to work on. I do. The baby blanket, the baby hat, the fall socks, the tank top, the sweater, the cream swatch, the Magic Loop socks...Part of the malaise is a sinking suspicion I have about the tank top. (Sorry Cap'n!) I don't think I'm getting gauge. I may need to start over. Ye gods.

Anyway, Slim and I have been hanging out with relatives as my mom and some Indiana friends came to visit, and now Cap'n's father and father's wife are here. We had a lovely lunch today at a Washington "power" spot, The Palm. We didn't have any "famous for D.C." moments, but I was pretty busy keeping Slim from emitting any ear-splitting screeches in the ears of the powerful and important.

It was pretty interesting hearing the stories of Cap'n's dad growing up in Cleveland with his pals, two friends he's known since elementary school. All of them also served in the Army. Things have changed a lot over the years they've known each other.

As a matter of quirky coincidence, one of the Indiana friends who was just here is a girl I've known since elementary school. Her mom (who was also here) and my mom were best friends in high school and have always been in touch. It's good to have that continuity in life.

The Palm has some fancy digs, with cartoons of the "famous for D.C." who have dined there decorating the walls. Perhaps you'll recognize the name on this one, though the face is obviously from happier, less convicted times:

Isn't it the case that the infamous are almost more fun than the good famous?

Cunningham had a live-aboard yacht called the "Duke-stir" docked here at the Washington Marina. And he complained about the crackheads running D.C. because he thought they were on the take when he didn't get the slip he wanted for the boat.

Okay, crackheads did run the city for a while, so he wasn't far off there. Yet he was on the take way more than any of the relatively small timers at the city level. Guess the guilty always are the first to point fingers, huh, Randy?

So we had lunch with the Duke-stir looking over our shoulders and missed the Cap'n, who traveled at the last moment to Wilkes-Barre to cover the massive flooding there. We were lucky to be on the second floor here in D.C., but the two unfortunate basement dwellers in our condo building had to deal with 3 inches of water. Hopefully the sun is out tomorrow for the family trip to Monticello, Jefferson's home.

Slim says, "Rrrarr! Fear me, Duke-stir!"