Knit PH at Freddy's Backroom, August 16, '09

For dinner I had a slice of an almond pear tart that my neighbor Justine made — perfect on a night such as this. It satisfied all my food cravings. Sunday evening, it's 90° and humid. In the distance I hear the low drone of a ship horn from the Navy Yard over the deafening buzz of cicadas. Stepping outside felt as if I were wearing a wet heavy towel on my head. Overall, this summer has been unusually cool until recently. It's also been unusually quiet this August, but I love New York when it's less crowded.



"Hello knitters!" Kirsten, the bar owner's daughter waved us hello on her way to the basement office. We had a small group on Sunday, which meant more AC for us. There's nothing better than a frosty beer and good company on a hot humid night. How did mankind live before AC and beer? Valerie was there before I arrived, she was finishing a crochet purse. I'm planning out my fall work, I brought some new yarns to swatch.



The best way i can describe the AC at Freddy's is "delicious." I hate sweating. I also hate drinking lots of water to cool down just to sweat all over again. Valerie is a cook, she said the best way to deal with the heat in the kitchen is regular applications of baby powder. My version is to go the the freezer section at Keyfoods and pretend I'm reading the ingredients on the packages. I try to look concerned when I do this.

Linda apologized for not RSVPing, I told her there was plenty of room. She brought a vest and a knit top in progress. Then Zack and Luise stepped in — Hoegaarden with lemon wedges in hand. Zack is our resident sock maker, he started a new pair. I admire his skill land tenacity. Linda and I agree that after finishing one, it's hard finding the incentive to make the other. Linda works as a park volunteer coordinator. She gets her share of well-wishers, crazy people and mosquitoes. New York does get buggy this time of the year. Valerie said that wearing a dryer sheet wards of bugs. They must fear that Fresh Meadow™ scent.



The dog days of summer have arrived like a rude house guest on a sweltering night. The heat brings out strange behavior in some, much more than a full moon. After Knit Night, I hung out with Troy, Jenna and few other regulars. We were outside smoking when a black convertible pulled over. A topless woman leaned out from window and asked "Excuse me! Am I in Staten Island?" — blond mullet and boobs akimbo, a-swayin' and bobbin'. Jenna blandly replied "No dear, you're in Brooklyn." We just turned around and returned to our conversation about sky diving. The woman idled for a moment and finally drove towards Vanderbilt. Shortly after that Kirsten walked out with a concrete brick in her hand. I asked "What are you doing with that?" She smiled and said "Gonna smash something." and walked home. I didn't inquire any further.