Sunday, July 29, 2007

IN WHICH I KNIT HAPPILY AND HAVE MY EGO STOMPED ON!

After viewing the Daniel Sotomayor exhibit at the Gerber Hart Library -- Norbert takes him middle name from Danny, z"l, -- Myfanwe and Norbert decided to take a little time to enjoy the beautiful day with a romp around the North lakefront.

As my favorite outdoor activity is going indoors, I hied myself to Cafe Ennui, where I ordered an XLarge cafe au lait, tucked my tushie into a comfy chair -- on a raised dias no less -- took out the prayer shawl and started to knit.

Now normally I wouldn't draw attention to myself by choosing to knit on a dias, but it was the most comfortable chair available, and the side table was exactly the right height to hold my pattern and my au lait.

As I very, very happily knit on the prayer shawl, prayers rolling through my mind for good health and happiness for my cousin, Sr. Clemente, I began to overhear snatches of conversation from the table to my immediate left.

Only inches to my left -- but 24 inches below me -- sat a pair of young women (I'll call them Alice and Betty) who were speaking in stage whispers.

Alice says, "Do you think that's really him?"

"Of course it's him. Who else could it be? I mean, really. He's knitting. In public!" replies Betty.
You can see where this is going. They have read my blog! I'm about to become acquainted with a fan!

"But he doesn't look Jewish!" Says Alice.

So now I KNOW it has to be me! I have fans! This is SOOOOOO exciting! I'm being recognized in public! The next thing you know I'll be seated at Booth #1 at the Pump Room with Chad Lowe and Mindy Cohn.

I am really feeling the electricity in the air! And then one of the young women tap me on the elbow and Betty asks, "Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you, but are you Franklin?"

All hopes for glory being dashed, I tell them that Franklin is my friend and that I write this blog. They said something about never having heard of me before, finished their lattes quickly, then sashayed out the door in their tube tops, too-short short shorts and annoying, clompy flipflops.

Now I'll never get to dine in Booth #1.

11 comments:

Ewe-niss said...

No, but you can sit in the back near the kitchen with me. I love your little old blog and have been reading you for quite a while now.

At least they didn't ask you if you had learned to knit in prison.
:-)

Cherice said...

Perhaps now that they've met you they will read your blog (which I find delightful).

sue said...

What a funny story! I just recently found your blog and I'm loving it.
I promise that if I ever see you knitting in public, I won't confuse you with Franklin.
A Chicago suburbanite

tiennie said...

Oh no! But it's kinda funny too!

I usually lurk on your blog but I wanted to comment to let you know that I'm a fan!

mc78 said...

One of the SSNB pastimes is to report Aidan sightings so it's only a matter of time.

Franklin said...

Darling, like they give me Booth #1. They usually chuck bones out the kitchen door into the alley.

Diane said...

hahaha! you wouldn't want tube top, short skirt, flip flopping fans anyways. after 3 minutes of conversation with every other word being "like" you'd want to stab yourself with your needles anyways.

anne marie in philly said...

I didn't know you and franklin were twins! (snort)

don't tell me the pump room is still in business?

my phillies are currently kicking the cubs ass at wrigley...

Aidan said...

Oh, Anne Marie! Thank Dog Franklin has already read this entry. If he, with his buff Mr. Clean body -- were to read that he and I -- with my Tom Arnold physique -- were twins...well, I'm afraid his brain might ooze out his ears or something!

Of course, that might still happen, if he reads the last sentence and tries to diagram it.

Franklin said...

No dear, what I think is odd is that they weren't sure if you were me because you don't look Jewish. Because of course, you are and I'm not.

=Tamar said...

They must never have actually read Franklin's blog either, since his blog shows a photograph of him.
There are a few visible differences, after all.