I feel like I only write in airports now. I actually feel a little like my world is big and small at the same time. I move from place to place, and the geography is big and I know it’s a new place because the weather changes, and the people change, and the bookstore changes – but mostly it’s a blur of airports, hotels and bookstores, and I’ve started rating the hotel by how comfortable the bed is. (I’ve noticed a correlation between how much I want to stay in a bed, and how long I’m able to do so. Last night’s bed was the nicest of the tour so far. It was perfect, totally perfect. Fluffy pillows – but not too fluffy, soft bed, crisp sheets, and I lay down in that glorious thing and slept in it for five hours. I just about wept when I had to climb out of it.) I’m in the Saint Louis airport, headed for Boston. (Can’t wait to see some of you at Brookline Booksmith tonight.) I’m sitting near the gate under a sign that says “Lambert Airport – like no place else” and I have to tell you, I’m having trouble seeing the unique nature of the place. Airports really don’t have a lot of personality, if you know what I mean. Sometimes I can only tell where I am by what the tee-shirts in the gift shop say. (These ones say Saint Louis Est. 1764.)
I can tell you, that while I can only tell the hotels apart by the beds and the airports by the tee-shirts, the bookstores are another matter. While it might look like just a group of readers to you, I can tell them apart by the flavour of weird that shows up. Everybody’s weird in their own way, and I’m flattered that so much weird shows up at the signings. I figure it means you’re all comfortable – and likely that you’ve decided I’m weird enough to handle it, which I totally think I am. The Saint Louis weird?
Teams. Knitters in groups. Doing things together. First up, let me show you these guys. That’s Heather and Peter, and Rachel and Josh.
They’re all knitters, the whole lot of them, and their planning a double wedding in a while that is going to be super heavy on the handknits, and is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard of. Four knitters – one wedding. Imagine that. (I hope some sort of prenuptial agreement has been made for the stash. I always wonder how that works when both spouses are knitters.)
Then, just when I’d gotten my head around the idea of an all knitter double wedding (and sort of planned their centrepieces in my head – double knitting figured largely, because how could it not…) up turned this lot.
That’s Mason, Megan and Carrie, and yup. They’re all knitting the same blanket, but here’s the thing. They’re representatives of a larger group. EIGHT of them are knitting this blanket. Eight of them. I’m pretty sure it’s Shelly’s Sock yarn blanket (do you remember when Shelly first showed up on the blog?) It’s like there was a viral outbreak of blanket and it’s running unchecked through Saint Louis. I don’t know whether to clap my hands out of sheer joy or call the CDC. (Mason had a baggie of mini-skeins in his bag that was just labeled “blankie food”. I desperately want security somewhere to search him just so he has to explain.)
Ok. I’m off. They’re calling my flight, and if I can stay awake on it, this will be the one where I finish one pair of socks and start the next. Very exciting. See you in Boston.