Imagine me, far away riding my bike with my three little ducklings trailing me as we pedal through pastoral Quebec (I think that’s where we’d be there by now. I wrote this ahead of time) with Ken and I making fools of ourselves en français. Imagine two people, each badly handicapped in their second national language. One has no accent, the other…no vocabulary. (If they work together they may almost order poutine without being mocked by the locals.) Now imagine that each of them actually labours under the delusion that they are speaking better french than the other and that both of them are stubborn to the point of ridiculousness. All parties concerned now (having been biking and camping for several days) smell sort of funny, are obsessed with the idea that there are bugs in the tents, and one of them is likely regretting that their camping knitting is crack kid silk haze, (That would not be me. I’m a thinker.) since the relentless heat, humidity and filth are making the cobwebby stuff stick to him. (I would be the one feeling guilty for not warning him better.) I suppose, since I am writing this ahead of time, that it’s also possible that we have spent several days sitting in tents waiting for the rain to let up, and are on the brink of shattering insanity from playing endless rounds of “eye spy”, ” A – my name is Annabelle” and “20 questions” with the girls to keep ourselves occupied, and we all wish we had enough crack kid silk haze to strangle each other with…but that’s just too cruel to consider.

Regardless of what I am doing, this entry is here to occupy you while I’m gone with a contest.

The prize? Glad you asked.


A tricoteuses sans frontières mug, hot off the presses at the KWB swag shop. (Which I covet deeply but am forcing myself to give away nonetheless.)

How do you make this yours? While I was in Hollywood for the bookbookbook, I took a stroll on the walk of fame. The sock and I looked for names we liked, but we were only moved by two. These two I liked well enough that I diced with hoards of ravening tourists and lay the sock down on the sidewalk for a shot.

What names were on the two stars that were my favourites?

Leave your two names in the comments, and in the unlikely event that more than one person guesses right, I’ll randomly select from all right answers. If nobody guesses (which, frankly…I think is more likely) I’ll draw from among all guesses. If you are a California knitter and I already told you who’s stars I loved, If you happened to be out for a walk on Hollywood blvd. and you saw me taking the pictures (and now that doesn’t seem as crazy as you thought), or if told you on the phone in a minute of weakness…you can’t play.

Have fun. See you on Thursday.