Dearly Beloved shook his head when he read yesterday’s post about the iPhone saga.

“I’m a freakin’ buffoon,” he said.  “I used to think you were a good writer.  Heck, you’re just a stenographer.”

“You may as well start calling me Arlo,” he continued, referring to the Arlo & Janis comic strip with which he often identifies– when he isn’t feeling like the old fart in Pickles.  He polished off his poor pitiful routine by looking around the room for imaginary hidden candid cameras.

Later, we went to an evening movie–unusual for us since retirement, but this theater has no matinee.  There is one showing for three nights only, Monday through Wednesday, because it’s mainly used for plays.  It isn’t used in the daytime because there are city offices around it within the same building.

It’s a very unusual theater.

From the balcony.

Carpeting and fancy embellished seats.

The theater has been around since 1858 and another one stood on the same site 50 years before that.   They show films that don’t make the mainstream theaters.


(This one–Mao’s Last Dancer– was truly wonderful.  Both of us enthusiastically recommend it.)

We sat on the first row, left side, in the balcony.  (That’s DB there on the end in the first photo.)

I took along my latest knitting project–another sweater– because I knew we’d be early and I’d have a little time to knit.  I’m trying to make a sweater for each of our five grandsons and I’d like to do it as soon as possible because the smaller the boys are, the less I have to knit.

The lighting was good, so  I was able to complete a few rows before the feature began.  Since I was in the middle of a sweater row when the film started, I kept on knitting.  DB leaned over and whispered, “You’re NOT going to do that during the movie, are you?”

I finished the row and dropped the whole project onto the seat beside me.  Unfortunately, the yarn ball dropped in the crack between the folded seat and the seat back.  I leaned over and picked it up, but it had caught on the fittings that join the seats and I’d apparently picked it up on the wrong side, making it even worse.  Throughout the movie I kept trying, unobtrusively, to untangle it, but doing the opposite.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, I immediately dropped to my knees in the small space between the seat and the balcony railing to see if I could unsnarl it.  DB was astonished at my dip.  As the other theatergoers filed out, I lay with my butt in the air and my face against the floor, trying to see the mess I’d made.  My husband stood in the aisle, his ass on his shoulders.

The reason I pointed out the age of the theater earlier is that the space between rows is tighter than in regular theaters.  The only way I could really see it would have been to stand on my head.  My knees were already up to my chin and my arms with squinched up against my body.

DB couldn’t resist offering a few words about the wisdom of dragging my knitting around with me everywhere.  With a decisive yank, I broke the yarn.  It would have been a more impressive gesture had I not needed his assistance in pulling me up from my wedged position.

As we trudged up the aisle, DB gestured toward an anxious woman who was practically dragging two ushers with flashlights over to where he husband stood mid-aisle.  He was apparently marking the spot where they’d sat.

“She probably dropped a knitting needle,” my husband wisecracked.

I limped down the stairs and out to the car without a word.

Arlo, however, seemed to have added a bounce to his step.


10 thoughts on “Knitpicking

  1. I would love to visit that theatre! Unfortunately though I won’t be able to help you look for the yarn ’cause I am half blind and have 0% flexibility in me.

  2. Your theater is beautiful!

    I know the feeling of having to search like this because I often manage to drop my car keys in the space between the seat and the middle console and then I have to go into the back seat and reach my arm way underneath to feel around for the little wedge of space they got wedged into. Not a pretty sight having ones derriere sticking out into oncoming traffic!

    I finally got City Island from NetFlicks today so when I watch it this weekend I’ll think of you Mary Lee! 🙂

  3. What a gorgeous theater! We have one in Tampa, but it is not nearly as old as yours. The Tampa Theater was build in 1926 as a movie “palace” and truly is magnificent. They show old movies and indies with an occasional concert thrown into the mix. I love going there.

    I must tell you that it is nice to back to blogging. You’re still my favorite storyteller! Between your knitting saga and DB’s iPhone, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit today!

    Btw, you’ve made me take a second look at my oyster shells, I’ve always admired their beauty, but now I’m looking for images. Reminds me of looking at clouds now thanks to you!

  4. I take knitting to the movies with me as often as possible. Haven’t dropped it under the seats though. All I could think was that it might be stuck to God Knows What under there. Treat yourself to a pretty knitting bag to carry with you. You deserve ( and need ) one!

  5. That balcony shot made me realize how much I missed that part of movie going. The new houses just don’t have them anymore. Such a loss.
    Delightful post as always.
    “It would have been a more impressive gesture had I not needed his assistance in pulling me up from my wedged position.” was where I lost it. Thanks.
    Love Pickles.

  6. Beautiful theatre, kind of reminds me of the old Fox in Atlanta. But I’m not so sure I would have gotten down on its floor to retrieve a knitting needle… I can just imagine how dirty it must have been down there!

  7. How very nice of you to put on that charade in the theater for DB’s benefit. Not many women would do that just to give their husband a little bounce in his step. You rock!

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