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Jon and I went away for a long weekend, or a short week: five days. Either way, here are the highlights from that getaway:

First, I actually didn’t work while I was gone. I didn’t check e-mail, or twitter, or facebook, or myspace, or any other social network. I made two notes on the last day we were there, because they were new ideas. New ideas run away and escape if you do not write them down. This maybe the longest real vacation I’ve ever allowed myself. Is that frightening, impressive, or both?

We visited our friends Wendi and Daven. Yes, the same friends that I mention in the nonfiction piece at the end of Flirt, and that helped me get the inspiration for said book. It’s always a highlight to see our friends.

Wendi was participating in the Knitting Olympics. What is the Knitting Olympics? Several thousand people pick a personal knitting project that they begin on the day the Olympic torch is lit, and finish on the last day of the Olympics. That’s about two weeks to go from nothing to finished product. Since I’ve never been any good with this kind of homey craft I’m always impressed with other people who are good at it. What’s even more fun is that when we first met Wendi she was just starting out with her woolly, fuzzy, thready, hobby. To see how far she’s come in skill level in just a few short years is really impressive. She knitted a whole sweater, and not just any sweater, a complicated sweater. A complicated sweater that she had to steek on. What does that mean? You knit things as a whole, like the sleeves, and then you have to cut perfectly good knitting apart and hope that you don’t ruin it. It is a task worthy of either a stiff drink, or a lie down in a darkened room as you take scissors to weeks of work. The neckline had to be steeked, too. It all turned out blue and beautiufl with the design meeting up as if it had been manifactured by machine rather than human hands. Jon and I were both very impressed. The Knitting Olympics did mean that Wendi was knitting furiously the whole time we were there, but she warned us ahead of time, and we were both fascinated to watch the sweater grow like magic before our eyes. She’s also been knitting since we met her, until it would seem almost odd if Wendi didn’t have a knitting project underway.

I did fifty minutes on the treadmill. It’s a record since I have been recovering from my ankle injury. My goal is an hour and I’m almost there. Very happy me.

Jon and I got to watch Daven do reps with 415 pounds of weight and do two reps at 435.  Yeah, you read that right. The bar started to bend under the weight. He could have done more weight, but his goal, like ours, is no more injuries. So 435 was a good place to stop. Yes, it was impressive, and a little discouraging when I compare my own weight lifting. Yes, yes, I know that he’s a foot taller than I am and all that means in size, and he is a guy, but still . . . I felt pretty puny after watching that. I am also going to have to seriously up what I thought my lycanthropes in the books used for weight lifting in the gym. Damn.

Our band, Steampunk Moose Apocalypse, was offered it’s first gig. Okay, let me explain. Daven and Wendi get asked if they’re part of a band. Jon and I get asked that a lot, too. I think it’s partly that both men have very long hair, and that we all tend to wear leather, kick-ass boots, and just must look cool enough to be musicans. I don’t really know, but we get it a lot. So we jokingly decided we’d make up a fake band for ourselves. The full name of the band is Steampunk Moose Apocalypse Ahhh! But we’ve started dropping the Ahhh! it tends to startle people, and they look puzzled when we scream at them. We went to a Mexican resturant that our friends frequent and we like well enough to request it every time we’re visiting. We had another lovely dining experience and were in the parking lot heading for the car when the manager followed us out. Daven was bringing up the rear so when she called after him, “Are you a band?” He turned and the rest of us, hearing this, drifted back to see what new happy weirdness had found us all. We explained that, “No, we weren’t a band.” She said, what many have said before, “But you look like a band.” We never know what to say to that. She offered us a gig in her resturnat, if we were a band. She offered us a gig without knowing what kind of music we played, or if we were any good. I mean, if we had been a band, what if we sucked? But she went entirely on appearence. Apparently enough leather, New Rock boots, and tight jeans, and we just looked cool enough she was willing to take a chance. Even for the four of us it was an interesting moment. It’s a shame that none of us play an instrument.

Okay, that’s enough for one blog. I’ll continue highlights from the five day trip with, “The Adventure of the Leather Dress.”