Next week, I meet Mike’s parents. I am incredibly nervous, in spite of his constant insistance that I shouldn’t be. “I love you, so they’ll love you. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” But Mike, there are so many things to worry about!
The problem Mike isn’t accounting for is my innability to make a good first impression. When I meet people I can’t seem to shake someone’s hand and say, “Pleased to meet you.” Instead, I start to get nervous and my words get jumbled and I say, “Please the meet,” which is pretty well the exact opposite of what I want to say. Then I begin to sweat, profusely, and shake. And of course, Mike’s family lives in Pennsylvania so I’ll be dealing with horrible, uncontrollable motion sickness. So excuse me Mike for not exactly feeling confident in my ability to be charming while your mom is shaking my sopping wet, shakey hand, while I’m doped up on dramamine and babbling like a mental patient.
Thank god for impulse buys.
A few days ago, while going through my considerable yarn stash I found a pound of white, worsted weight cotton. I have no idea why I own it. I know I purchased it, but I can’t think of a single thing I would have thought it useful for. Cotton is really only good for sweaters and housewares (and I look terrible in white). The best reason I can come up with is I decided that I wanted to start making my own dishcloths, then realized that dishcloths are lame, that I hated doing the dishes, and I should take Olive to the park RIGHT NOW. So it sat, in my stash, untouched.
It’s the perfect size of a coaster! It’s made from a durable, thick cotton and it fits even my largest of coffee mugs, plus, it’s totally machine washable. I decided that not only would I make a whole bunch of them, but that they’d be a really good, “I’m sorry I’m drooling on your bushes, I’ll stop as soon as the medication wears off” present for Mike’s family.
Here’s three I finished:
And here’s the detail on one:
I hope they like them!
Edit: To my mom, who is undoubtedly out there going, “Ehhhhhn Courtneeeeeeeeeeey, where’s miiiiiiiiiiiine? You never make me aaaaannythiiiiiiiiing, I gave you liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife, ehhhhhhhhhhhn,” keep your pants on. Yours are in the shape of hockey pucks!