Foregoing And Foregone

We had a lovely Thanksgiving with our family at the Oregon Coast – in spite of foregoing the opportunity to visit two very fine yarn shops (A Yarn For All Seasons in Newport and Nestucca Bay Yarns in Lincoln City).

Sarah and I had had our hopes, of course – in spite of being unable to conjure any real need for new yarn (aside from some eggshell Hempathy the like of which we had purchased at A Yarn For All Seasons about a year-and-a-half ago). 

 

In truth, I consider visiting yarn shops a courtesy – something on the level of a diplomatic courtesy, actually.  So, if I am in the area, I feel it would be rude not to stop in.  And, if I am going to fondle their mohair and thumb through their pattern books and analyze their selection of needles with squinty eyes and pursed lips for, say, an hour or so, I figure I had better buy something.  It works out very well for all parties involved. 

 

But as it turned out, we were not able to get to the shops during their business hours without seriously disrupting family plans and so we decided that, in the spirit of the holiday and our deep love of family, we could forego the yarn shops – all the time reasoning we could hit Nestucca Bay Yarns on our way home Monday anyhow (when Sarah and I would be traveling by car with only Max – who, at not quite 2 yrs. old, has limited input).

 

Well, come Monday we got a later start than anticipated and had to make couple of other stops and reluctantly decided that we had better forego Nestucca altogether after all.   Big sigh.  Well, we had no conceivable need of yarn – or knitting books, needles, bags, notions.  Nothing.   No reason at all.  So, sensibly – and without speaking about it further – we drove past Nestucca and headed inland.

 

We drove on toward Portland – Sarah drove and I knit and Max eventually fell asleep.  But, although we have traveled that same road dozens of times, we missed the usual veering that would have had us bypass McMinnville and, instead, found ourselves trundling right through downtown McMinnville.

 

We were stopped at a traffic light when I happened to see Boersma’s Knitting Basket.  Right there on the corner:  broad windows, cheery lights, lots and lots of yarn.  I said, Look, Sarah, a yarn shop!  The light turned green, we pulled forward, turned into the next street and before conscious thought had even hit, we were waking the baby and trotting toward the shop.

 

And it was a lovely shop.  They had a great little play corner with toys, too.  So after we had made intense reconnaissance, we took turns watching Max in the play corner while the other one stroked and prodded and pondered the yarn.

 

Note:  It takes great love and patience to discuss Mr. Potato Head with a toddler when there are fifty kinds of alpaca yarn is clear sight.

 

Well, it all ended as one would expect – a classic “foregone conclusion” to our attempts at foregoing yarn shopping!  Sarah and I each walked away with a small bag of yarn (mine held a little latte-and-cream colored luxury...mmmm) and punch cards of the complete-and-receive-$25-in-yarn variety. 

 

And Max appreciated stretching his legs, I’m sure. 

Comments

[Joyce]

I love it! How can you fight fate?