Graham Norton’s my new best friend. (Sort of. We haven’t met. I mean, he just emailed me a picture, and we’ve only spoken on the phone for a moment, so we’re not that close yet. He sort of lives far away as well. We’ll work it out.)

This, however, is Greg Kinnear, kinneared in London on the set of The Graham Norton Show by Greg Kinnear himself. (I was on the phone. He got three tries.) I worried actually, that if Greg Kinnear kinneared himself and it was sent to the woman who invented kinnearing by kinnearing Greg Kinnear that it might cause some sort of rift in the fabric of time and space… but I’ve looked out the window, and things seem all right. Dudes. Kinnearings gone officially international, and in a really weird way.

Let me back up.

This morning I got a crazy email. I staggered to my desk and found a little email from a guy named Ben at The Graham Norton Show in the UK. (We get that show here on BBC Canada. I’m a fan.) Odd, I think (I think that a lot. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things are odd far more of the time than they’re just chugging along) and I read what he’s got to say, which is essentially “Greg Kinnear is popping by to talk to Graham, and we’d like permission to show maybe your blog while he talks about being a verb if it comes up… is that ok?”

Well. I think. Why not. What could it hurt? I mean, Conan used the pictures from the blog without phoning or emailing at all, so I suppose that the least I can do to reward this considerable politeness is to say yes. Which I do, and he telephones and says that’s lovely, and we talk a little bit about what’s going on, and he says “Maybe we can kinnear Greg Kinnear and send you a picture” and we both thought that would be good. Funny even. Unlikely, I think. and I fire off the permission email, and I drink coffee. The last time someone told me they were going to be with Greg Kinnear, it was Carol, and I believed her, because… I’ve met Carol, and she’s a knitter, and if I can’t trust a knitter, then by the wrath of moth, who can I trust? I got on with the rest of my day… until a little while ago when Graham Norton called my house and we chatted with Greg Kinnear (I know), and now, when suddenly I’ve got a Greg Kinnear picture, and I like how it feels.

This brings me to the revenge part. Near as I can tell, what Greg’s got out of this deal is pretty good. He’s got a funny story to talk about on national TV shows with huge stars and he’s been turned into a verb and immortalized as a new word in the New York Times and the Urban Dictionary. That’s pretty good.

I, to be fair, have gotten almost the same thing. I got a funny story to talk about on national TV shows with huge stars… the fact that I don’t go on National TV shows and talk to huge stars as often (or ever, really) as Greg does is irrelevant… It could happen, and if it does, I’ll be as prepared as Greg is. When the NYT listed Kinnearing as a word, they listed me as its inventor… that’s pretty seriously neat too. Me and Greg. Evensies. Absolutely on par…. except for one thing.

Ever since I invented Kinnearing, I have been kinneared within an inch of my life. I have been kinneared at the grocery store, at the airport, at yarn shops, on the bus, at my book signings, at speaking engagements, in bookstores, at festivals…. Everywhere, and all of this has resulted in a plethora of horrendous images of myself plastered all over the internets. Images that, once seen, I have to carry in my heart forever. Now, I don’t blame people. I really don’t. It was my idea. I thought it was funny to do it to Greg, and it’s both funny and flattering when it’s done to me. Turnabout’s fair play. I’ve accepted that if you invent kinnearing, then it’s only fair to have an odd slanted photo of my arse at the post office in a pair of baggy yoga pants emailed to me. I’m the one who went to the post office in my baggy yoga pants. I won’t do it again, and I accept all blame. Lesson learned. That said… don’t you think that if Greg Kinnear is reaping some of the benefits, that Greg Kinnear should have to bear some of the burden? I think that today is a special day. I think today is the day that I tell you that I’m putting Greg Kinnear on my most wanted list, and that I’ll donate to MSF every time somebody mails me a photo of Greg Kinnear, kinneared. (Do try to remember the fine line between stalking and kinnearing.. yes? There’s no bail fund.)

(Ps. Try to get his arse… and try to make it unflattering… will ya?)

I was getting seriously wound up yesterday (I know. It’s so not like me) I’m going to be speaking in Madison this weekend and that’s like… in three days. I immediately had a complete meltdown, and then realized that the timing on this one is perfect. Totally perfect.

The top ten reasons why it is a good idea to leave town.

1. The dirty bit on the shawl came out, but it vexes me anyway. I think that it and I should have a time out, and it’s not a good travel project anyway. Too white, too fragile, too many charts. It’s a chesterfield project, and that’s where I’m keeping it. I hope it misses me.

2. I will not have to wage war with an appliance of any kind for 48 hours. This is good because I’m really starting to believe that the dishwasher is toying with me. One day it drains, the next it refuses. This seems to be related to how many dishes are in it, and how much I don’t want to wash them. I feel that this is personal, and yesterday when it refused to void its steamy dish slag, the urge to mangle its racks was overwhelming. Time to go.

3. I’ll be able to get some knitting time on the plane. (Hold up there! Wait! You… the one in the back.. I see you. You’re about to send me an email or type a comment asking me if I can really knit on the plane, or am I sure I will be able to knit on the plane, or maybe I should check and see if I can knit on the plane, or ask me if I am really, really going to knit on the plane, or maybe even ask me how it is that I can knit on the plane, or enquire about how I arrange being able to knit on the plane, or ask me what sort of needles I fly with because you are flying and you want to knit on the plane but you don’t think that you’ll be allowed and am I really allowed to fly on the plane?

Stop.

– I am going to knit on the plane.

-I am going to take whatever needles I want.

-Nobody has ever, ever said anything to me at security, even when my bag is being hand searched and I say “Whoops there, mind the bag full of a multitude of metal needles, don’t want to poke yourself”. The only thing that has ever been said to me by security is ” Are those socks?” “That’s pretty” or “My sister knits too”.

-I have never phoned ahead to see if I will be allowed. (I admit, this is because I think that if you ask them to think about it, they get worried that maybe you’re asking because you think they might say no (which is true) and that then they say no, because they figure that if someone thinks they might say no then they should, just to be sure.

– For the record, I fly more than a carrier pigeon.

4. No internet connection while I’m on the plane. That means that for at least a few hours on Friday and Sunday, I have an excellent excuse for why I can’t deal with my inbox.

5. The last time I went to Wisconsin, I spoke at an event at Yellow Dog Knitting, and I had a really good time. Really good, actually. This time I’m with the Madison Guild, and I’m expecting a fair bit of overlap. I know I’ll see Joyce Williams again, and I’ll get to meet Meg Swansen, which is really neat because we’ve only ever spoken on the phone. (I am nervous about that a bit.) The best part last time was the knitters though, some I think it’s really fun to see every few years, and I can’t wait. (I’m hoping for Dale-Harriet, Shelly, Vicki (when my blog pictures grow up, they want to be Vicki’s blog pictures) Beadslut, Chris, Cursing mama… I know some of them have lives that don’t include me… but I’m still pretty excited.

5a. Holy cow. I missed a trip to Madison. I was there last April. (How could I not remember that? I plead book tour. There’s no way you can expect a writer to know where they are and what they’re doing under those circumstances. To be fair, I remember that day beautifully. I just didn’t know I was in Madison.

6. The weather in Wisconsin will not be a shock to my system. Unlike many Canadians who are going to go to Mexico, or Cuba or the Bahamas for March Break (we do not call it “spring break”, because it’s just not accurate) I am not going to put myself through the emotional rollercoaster of actually seeing the sun and feeling it’s warmth on my skin, only to have all of that hope dashed into a million dark shards on my return. Wisconsin is a much healthier choice, emotionally speaking.

7. It has been a long time since people have held my socks. I miss it. (I’m not worried that’s weird either.)

8. Chris Farley is from there. (I’m not sure why that’s relevant.)

9. I forget what 9 was. I’m out of coffee.

10. The Madison Knitting guild is wicked, and I’m pretty sure that none of the teenagers there are my problem.

See you there. Saturday. We’ll have squeaky cheese.