I’m writing from a cab, headed for the airport to go home, so even though my heart just leaps thinking that I’ve survived and tonight I sleep in my own bed, pretend I’m still on the road..I’ve got two more events to tell you about.
I arrived in Atlanta totally wiped out an a smidge on the cranky side. I found the bathroom and teetered in. I was standing there, waiting for my turn and all I could think was “Who does this? Who lives this way? I have got to be the only human being in the world this tired and worn out from travelling in the name of knit” when the door to the stall in front of me opened, and I just started to laugh.
Vicky Howell. Seriously. What are the odds? If I hadn’t gone to the bathroom right then, if she hadn’t gone right then, if the person in the next stall had been a little quicker…totally bizarre. We stood and laughed about how crazy this whole flying around for knitting thing is, we confused the living daylights out of some poor women by photographing each other right there, and we parted. She for North Carolina and then Webs, and me for Atlanta and then Virginia.
It was a bizarre moment. Totally. If I didn’t have this picture I would think that I had hallucinated it.
Leaving Vicky and the airport, I staggered up to the hotel and met this fine gentleman.
Anthony. Anthony should be, if he is not yet, the poster dude for the famous Southern Hospitality, which is really saying something, because the south OWNs hospitality. Don’t let his work face fool you either. This is the real Anthony.
He was charming, gracious, welcoming and restored my faith in all of humanity, which is quite a feat, considering that I have been in so many airports, which really seems to bring out the worst in people. The ladies from Knitch who dropped by the hotel were just as entirely smitten with him. He defines elegant charm my friends…defines it. Restored by Anthony’s existence…I meant to blog but fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was time to wash airport off me, and go to Knitch.
I can’t say enough about this store. Kim, the owner is a lovely gal, who’s sensible and kind nature is only topped by her organizational skills and good thinking. Knitch went whole hog on this bad boy, and were rewarded with the attendance of 700 or so of their knitterly kin, and while their are few people who can handle that with grace (Steve and Kathy over at Webs managed too) it’s a big job keeping that many knitters rolling along, and she did a grand job.
Behold. The knitters of Atlanta! (and surrounding areas.)
Terrifying. En masse they flipped me right out, but individually? Well. They flipped me out, but in a good way.
Adding to the general madness was the fact that it was International Talk Like a Pirate day, which I did, but only briefly. (It’s hard to maintain. I don’t know how the pirates did it.)
Heather and Arden. (You know my fondness for very young pre-knitters.)
Angie, Jill, Marsha. Sara,
and Cindy (sporting her 1st sock version 5.0), Holly, with a particularly sad first sock (that poor little white thing), Nina, Samira (her first three..none finished) and Michelle,
In the “go big or go home” department, Deborah knit these knee highs.
and Jane even wore the scarf she made out of my handspun that she won in Claudia’s auction. Very snazzy.
Courtney, who designed and screened me a tee shirt that Joe is going to laugh about for weeks.
It says “Squirrel Killa”
Mary and Lydia, with washcloths.
(I am going to have one weird collection when we are done.
Gracious hat lady and wonderful hats.
and finally, the whole team of staff and volunteers who kept the whole thing from going off the rails. If you’re ever in town, give them a visit. Knitch has a zen corner you can sit in. You wanna go.
For now…dudes. I’m home. I am so happy.