And I can prove it with knitting.
I knit most of the first glove (Mosaic Mitts, from Interweave Knits Holiday Issue and yes I do intend to knit everything from this magazine thank you very much) on the drive up to San Francisco, and most of the second on the drive back. Today I am wearing them, and my hands and wrists are toasty warm. The lawyer who has the office across the hall from me controls the air conditioning in our little fifth-floor shtetl, and he keeps it blasting at about 30 below. So I need these. I kind of hate the colors, but it was the best I could do with the available yarn.
True story from San Francisco: I was in a bead shop near 24th and Mission on Christmas eve, making wine charms as last-minute gifts, when the phone rang. Unspecified European Girl answered the phone. “Hello . . . yes . . . yes . . . oh. Bye.” She hung up.
“That was weird,” she announced to her high-school-aged coworker. “That guy who called? He asked if we were open, then he said ‘oh, I’m so happy to find a bead store that’s open today, can I come in?’ I said yes, and he said ‘okay, first I’ve got to go home and get my gun.’ Then he hung up.”
“That kind of freaks me out,” laughed High-School Girl.
“Yeah. I guess he meant to say something else, and said ‘gun’ instead.”
More aimless chit-chat ensued until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I politely suggested that they might consider calling the police.
“I’m sure he was just kidding, or he made a mistake.” Unspecified European Girl clearly thought I was overreacting.
“Do you really want to find out?”
So she called the store’s owner, who told them to lock up and leave immediately. And we left too, and strolled on down the street, and there was no gunfire that I know of. And there is no moral or clever ending to this story, and I learned no valuable lessons, except maybe that San Franciscans (and Unspecified Europeans) are remarkably casual about threats of violence.