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When I was but a child, there were such things as full-service gas stations. In fact, there were no “self-serve” type gas stations waaay back in the day. My father would pull up to the gas pump, and a man in a blue jump-suit with the name “Andy” embroidered on the chest pocket would come out from the little office part of the gas station. Andy usually had a blue rag hanging out of the back pocket of his blue jump-suit. “Fill ‘er up?” He’d ask after greeting my father by name. “Regular,” my father would answer. Back then, gas came in two choices: “ethel” and “regular” - apparently my father only purchased cars that ran on “regular,” because I don’t ever remember hearing him request “ethel” for any of the vehicles we rode around in. Andy would then get the gas pump going and walk around to the front of the car, and check under the hood. He’d pull the oil dipstick out and wipe it clean with the blue rag he’d deftly pulled from his hip pocket, dip it in again, and then bring it back out while holding his rag underneath to catch any drips. He’d read the level of our oil. “You’re a quart low.” He’d sometimes say, then clean the oil off the dip stick again and replace it back in it’s dip-stick hole. With that, my father would tell him which weight of oil he used - even though Andy probably already knew which it was, and Andy then would briskly walk back into the station office and come out with a quart of oil and a neato oil spout kind of can opener that he’d shove into the oil can. With precision that only years of experience can develop, Andy’d place the can-spout in the hole to refill our car’s crankcase - rarely spilling a drop. I’d watch as the oil drained in, occasionally seeing a bit of a drip slip out from the can around the spout. Andy would eventually come back, pull the can out, then he’d replace the cap to the crankcase, wipe up any spills with the blue rag, and then drop the hood back down again while wiping off his hands and then replacing the blue rag in his hip pocket. Next, he’d begin spraying the windshield with window cleaner. If he saw a child’s face on the other side of the windshield, he’d grin and spray soapy window cleaner right at the face of the child - which invariably caused giggling inside the car. Clean blue paper towels from a dispenser near the gas pumps would then wipe the windshield free of bugs and grime. I remember watching closely from my vantage point inside (if I happened to be in the front seat) to be sure he’d catch stray specks of “stuff” on the windshield. Andy was usually quite thorough, and I was always very impressed with his work, although occasionally he’d look inside and smile and ask me if he’d missed anything. If I put my finger on the glass to point out a speck, he’d dutifully clean the spot sparkling clean. We always left the gas station with a happy car, and a sparkling view of the world after we’d been to Andy’s station.

That phrase “a quart low” became kind of a catch-phrase with me thru the years. I have jokingly used it to refer to the fact that my hair needed to be dyed (roots showing) - “I’m a quart low.” Occasionally, it has been a useful way of describing hunger. This week it’s with reference to endorphines. I’m feeling a little out of sorts for some unknown reason. I think it’s a combination of things… The weather changed abruptly, the time changed abruptly, life got a little out of kilter, and I’m now grasping around me looking for something to hang on to while this little ship I ride through life on “rights” itself. I feel like my happy hormones are “a quart low.” I’m sure that patience and time will eventually bring things back around to the point where this empty feeling is filled. There are, after all, some pretty “neato” things out there to study and be impressed with. Occasionally a friend will lend a hand and spruce your attitude up with a smile or a joke or a suggestion…and sometimes just will allow you to be the one calling the shots - even though they already know the answers, just to help you feel like you’re part of things, and you matter. I’m looking forward to a sparkling view of the world, and that happy feeling that comes with a fill-up. It’s good to have friends who can take care of it for you when you just don’t feel quite up to it. When life kind of feels “a quart low.”

I had lost my place on the “easy to remember/pick up where you left off” pattern on Saturday. Tried tinking back to a spot that I could resume apace, but the whole thing quickly became a big mess - so out it came - for the fourth time? Perhaps fifth. I must say, the yarn seems to be taking the abuse well. That mess of yarn is what’s left to knit before I’m back to the amount I had previously knitted before this rip happened….oy.

So anyway, Saturday night, while watching the 3 TIVO’d episodes of American Idol we had archived, I somehow became emboldened to try the short row toe-up version again. Very cool how I actually have a top and bottom to the toe with the color patterning. (here’s the sole/underneath part of the toe)…

Sure hope I can find that same spot on the yarn for the next sock so I can get the toes to match. Ha! I hope I get the first sock done at this point!! Anything after that will just be a bonus.

Hey, how about Eunny getting the editor job at Interweave Knits! Looking forward to Pam Allen’s future endeavors as well, now that her time will be her own. It sounds like it was an amiable split. She’s done a fabulous job at IK. So…how nice for them to be able to obtain the cream of the knitting crop to keep Interweave Knits the magazine we all look forward to each time it comes out.