When you’re whipping from city to city. I’m safely home now, and while my daughters did not say that they missed me (or speak to me, actually) …
I’m going to take the fact that two out of three of them exhibited spontaneous knitting behaviour last night as a sign. (Note that they are not smiling. Knitting is one thing. Appearing to enjoy it is another. They wouldn’t want to be obvious with their love.)
I had no idea what day of the week it was any day that I was gone. I have gone back and with the help of the itinerary, people who claim to have seen me and blogged about it, and the receipts for yarn I found in my purse. (Those were a big help) I have pieced together the description of the truck that hit me events of the last several days.
It would appear that after Skaneateles I flew from Syracuse to Newark, (Hey! I remember that! I saw the Statue of Liberty from the plane. I’d never seen it before and I was pretty thrilled. I’ve been in NYC a couple of times now, and even though it was supposed to be pretty big, I could never locate the thing. I was starting to think that it was either a lie Americans tell Canadians for fun, or maybe that the little statues in the souvenir shops were “life size”.) I changed planes in Newark (My flight was delayed. The Newark airport needs better/closer coffee.) and I got on a flight to Pittsburgh.
Pittsburgh is a cool city. It’s very pretty, which I never expect, and my favourite thing about it is arriving. You drive along this road from the airport that has no hint of a city about it, then you go into a tunnel and when you come out of the tunnel…whammo. Pittsburgh, with all of the green and the hills and the rivers is right in front of you. It’s a surprise city. Nothing, then the tunnel…then there it is.
The cab driver said it was a city with a front door.
(That’s the tunnel, just after we came out of it. It’s also a stunningly bad picture, but taking that one freaked out the cabbie so badly that I didn’t feel like I could try again. There’s only so distracted you want the driver of your car.)
It’s also a city with knitters a-plenty. (I knew that from the last time I was there and got to go to Knit-Wits. They threw a great event.) This time I rolled into Knit One, and I’ll admit, I was nervous. Even more nervous than usual. I’d heard through the grapevine that the owner, Stacey, was a Psychologist and that she’d done some thinking about my friend the travelling sock, and that from a mental health professional point of view, it was an interesting thing. (The words “transitional object” had been bandied about before I even got there.) I was worried that the sock and I (once we explained ourselves) might be blessed with a diagnosis that would preclude carrying pointy sticks. (Or leaving a padded room.)
Turns out that Stacey was sort of distracted by the other socks that knitters brought to visit me. (Hey Stacey? Who’s crazy now eh?)
It was at this point, just about, that I apparently took leave of my intelligence. Everything happened so fast. As far as I can recollect, my fly was up, I don’t think I said “arse” (or anything worse) I’m pretty sure I spelled my name correctly in all the books and the rest is a blur. You should have been there. It was incredible. Knitters as far as the eye could see.
This is Jessica. She’s a brand new knitter. Brand spanking new. She had only learned to knit a few days before and her swatch was amazing. Some people are called to the fibre arts. This knitter was born to them. Brilliant. (I love this photo. She’s so thrilled to be knitting.)
and this…this is Julia, Julia of Vesper yarn Julia. Her sock met my sock. (Transitional objects?) Charissa came for her Birthday, Jane, Ember and Yvonne were a charming trio. (Yvonne, that is a great first sock. Don’t listen to the voice in the back of your head. It’s wrong. Any first sock that could go on a foot is a great first sock.) Penny gave me some fabulous cookies. (They were, as predicted, my breakfast the next day.) There was cake
Sandy the wonder employee had both the Canadian and the Ontario flags to make me feel at home…
(Sandy should be cloned for all knitting book events. The woman is a wonder. Pen stop writing? Sandy has another one. Need a jar for pin money? Sandy hands you one. Need a chair? One appears out of thin air. I’m in love with Sandy.)
Seriously. it’s an “aromatherapy” yarn with a scent that’s supposed to last for 40 washes. There are no words for how interesting I find this. I don’t know if I’m intrigued, appalled or charmed. (The sock was similarly confused.) Aromatherapy yarn.
Am I the only one who’s sort of surprised by this? Am I the only one who thinks that the different colours should be different scents? Am I the only one standing stunned over this in yarn shops?
Pittsburgh, many, many thanks. I had a wonderful time…it was a blast. More tomorrow as I reconstruct Doylestown, Philadelphia, Rutherford, and …I swear it….
Talking to Martha Stewart on the phone.
(PS. I updated the tour page again.)