Fuhgedaboudit: Knitting and Purling at the Bada Bing

It wasn't my intention but I scared the #*@( out of Goldisox yesterday.
He was out and about doing whatever it was he had to do out there while I treated myself to a blissfully delicious afternoon of knitting (more about that in another post) and The Sopranos.

Yes, The Sopranos. I'm going to pause and take a ladylike sip of iced tea and adjust my white gloves while you grapple with your surprise. I love The Sopranos. My father turned me on to the show in 2001 and I've been a devotee ever since. Want a university level education in the dark side of human nature? Look no further. Melodrama, Greek tragedy, farce, a splash of dark romance (I mean, the crowd at The Bing is a veritable Bad Boy convention), laced with mind-numbing violence.

Let me say this: I don't enjoy violence on television or in movies. No slasher films for me. No blood and guts. I can't take it. So explain to me why I can sit there happily knitting away on a sweet, innocent Step sock while Tony and Christopher drop Ralphie's head into a bowling bag and not blink an eye.

Which was what was going on when Goldisox (who doesn't do The Sopranos) came home.

"Another Sopranos retrospective?" he asked.

"Yep," I said as I worked one of my gusset decreases. "Tony smashed Ralphie's head into the linoleum. He and Christopher chopped him up and put his head in a bowling bag."

Goldisox, noticeably paler than he had been mere moments ago, looked at me with horror in his blue eyes. "They chopped off his head and put it in a bowling bag?"

"Yep," I said again, merrily knitting my way across the row, "but it's not like Ralphie didn't have it coming."

The look of horror in his eyes intensified. "You think what they did is okay?"

"Well, Ralphie did set fire to the stables."

"Aren't you the same woman who makes me set flies free?"

"Apples and oranges," I said as I gave the second stitch on the new needle an extra little tug. "I mean, it's not like when Sil gunned down Adrianna as she tried to crawl away. Even I had a problem with that."

"Okay, now you're scaring me." He took a step backward. (He really did.) "I didn't know you knitterly types were so violent."

"Hellooooooooo," I said. "Remember when I pulled out my needle by mistake when we were paying a toll on Garden State? Remember what I said?"

He looked from the Ralphie Cifaretto bowling bag to his innocent wife wielding very pointy metal objects, and he remembered.

Poor man slept with one eye open last night.


(Sopranos fans can read my predictions here.)