The knitted lion

That could be the name of a British pub, The Knitted Lion. It isn’t, one imagines, but it could be. It would sound quite right and good.

My child bride is a high-energy woman, which balances our relationship very nicely since I am a low-energy man and always have been. I enjoy relaxing. She doesn’t know how. Hand her a cup of coffee, for instance, on a summer afternoon. Does she sip and talk? No, she chugs it like a Hells Angel with a Heineken.

Since the Kung Flu descended upon us, she’s temporarily retired her pastry business, the one in which she baked goodies and sold them on the downtown plaza out of a wicker basket on Saturday afternoons. Been almost a year now since that happened. Her income vanished, so we had to increase her monthly allowance to even things out.

But you can’t keep a hyperactive woman down for long. She found knitting, or maybe it’s crochet. I don’t know, don’t care. The last few months, she’s knitted sweaters for me and herself, but just recently she discovered these little animals.

She’s finished two so far, a bear and a lion. We see similar stuff being sold online for 500 or 600 pesos, for Pete’s sake. I wonder if anyone pays that? No matter. It keeps her busy, giving me ample time to do what I do best, which is pretty much nothing.

Or maybe it’s time to open the Knitted Lion Cantina. We could serve both Corona and Guinness Stout. I love Guinness Stout. It’s very relaxing.