Sunday, January 30, 2011

Knit Nite Saturday Night

Last night was Knit Nite. Knit Nite is just an excuse to invite a bunch of women over so that we can eat, drink, and chat; knitting is not actually a requirement to be allowed to attend. Some people actually do knit. Some crochet. Some sew. Some just eat and drink and talk. It's always fun.
I used to have Knit Nites a couple times a year but have only had one since we took in the yarn hound. At the first one, we still had a dog gate across the kitchen and Ray still slept in there, so it wasn't too much of a problem. But the dog gate broke at some point, and Ray hasn't slept in the kitchen since the construction started (and ended). Now he sleeps in front of the fireplace, or on the couch, or in Gregg's chair. So I was slightly concerned about how Ray was going to react with all the people (an even dozen) and (especially) how he was going to do with all the nose-level food.
My BFF, Joanne, was the first to arrive. Ray was ecstatic. We calmed him down and he flopped for a belly rub. Joanne and I scurried around trying to get the food ready. I had left it until the absolute last minute because of the potential for Ray-induced disaster. But oddly, Ray seemed somewhat disinterested. He was more interested in the steady stream of new friends arriving every minute.
As soon as Rachel (Murphy's mom) arrived, I put her in charge of keeping the hound out of trouble while Joanne and I continued scurrying in the kitchen. But every time someone new arrived I had to greet them at the door (with Ray), direct them where to deposit their coats and take their drink order. It was MAYHEM for about the first hour.
Ray was being good. In between greeting guests, he would settle down until the next person arrived and Rachel was monitoring him pretty well. I was feeling more confident that he was going to behave. Even when I put food on the coffee table, Ray didn't get up to investigate. I thought I was out of the woods. Then the last guest arrived, Rachel was helping one of the other guests get started on some knitting, Ray went to greet the new arrival, and as he walked back to the pile of throws (the ones that I use to cover the furniture) that I had left on the living room floor (where he had made a nest), Ray took a little taste of the Ranch Dip in the middle of veggie platter. Just a little taste, but a taste nonetheless. I directed him away and whooshed the dip away to the trash, calmly observed by a roomful of women with smiles on their faces (or looks of outrage - depending on how much they liked Ranch Dip).
Ray deposited himself on his nest. The evening wore on. Ray became uncomfortable. He got up and ambled over to where Joanne was sitting in Gregg's chair, knitting. Ray started to encroach on Joanne's space. Joanne said, "I know you want this chair, but you can't have it. I'm sitting here." Ray was persistent. Joanne reiterated, "I'm not moving, Ray." (There was nowhere to move to - I only had seats for the guests, I was already taking up space on the floor). Ray continued trying to move Joanne by pushing up against her with his chest. "Ray, you can't have my chair," said Joanne. Ray was trying to move her with the power of his mind. He was "staring" at her, his eyebrows doing the eyebrow dance on his forehead, his ears in Dumbo mode. Heat was emanating from the top of his head he was concentrating so hard.
"You might as well move," I said to Joanne, "He's not going to give up."
"Oh, alright, Ray, you can have my chair," (there's a reason she's my best friend), Joanne said with good grace as she gathered her knitting and went to sit on the floor across the room from me. I went to get a couple of pillows for us to sit on. Ray curled himself up in the relinquished chair, gave a heavy contented sigh, and went to sleep for the remainder of the evening.


  1. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your "child" is spoiled, haha.

  2. Gee. Do you think so? I had NO idea.

  3. I should add though, that Ray is SO much better than he used to be. I mean, there were sausages and CHEESE on the table and he never batted an eye. He used to be uncontrollable around them.