Rumor has it - and boy, I tell you what, I'm heading down to Pennsylvania to have an up close and personal talk with the AccuWeather people if this proves to be unfounded - that we might start getting warmer weather soon. Within the week. There is hope.

Just in case, we've planned a family vacation to Washington, DC, next weekend, just to GO somewhere and DO something and NOT BE HERE. We got a pretty good deal on one of the travel sites, so off we go. Jacob is most excited about going on the airplane. Emily wants to see the Hope Diamond and no one knows why.

In the meantime, I'm shivery, but honestly not as cranky as I often am during this time of year. March just irritates me, with its springlike taunts and frigid temperatures and dank, dirty snow everywhere. I was even optimistic enough last night to go out and meet - *gasp* - new people. At a bar.

With our knitting.

Yes, I joined a group, at least for the night. Of course I had some trepidation beforehand, because, really? A knitting group? The average age would be 67, the average level of conversation would be genteel and sweet, and the locale would somehow involve tea. Right? Wrong, wrong, and wrong. I was not the youngest there, and the oldest couldn't have been 45. The conversation included efforts to come up with a joke to match one woman's newly engaged friends, a man who is legally blind and a woman who is in her first heterosexual relationship: "A blind man and a lesbian walk into a bar..." And, speaking of bars, this get-together was in one. An almost-seedy, college-like place featuring a mannequin wearing split-front red panties and Mardi Gras beads, loud music, and RC Cola instead of Coke or Pepsi products.

It was fabulous, and even more so to spend time with people who share a hobby with me and don't roll their eyes when I talk about gauge or needle size.

Look at me, being social. Rock on.