I’m home, which if you had lived my yesterday, you would find as amazing as I do. I left Minneapolis yesterday at 3:30pm, and through an absolutely farcical chain of airline events, got me home so late last night that it was this morning at 3am when I sat down on my own chesterfield. I slept late, as one does, if you arrive home in what is perilously close to the time you usually get up, and today I’m predictably having trouble gathering steam. I had a wonderful time at Yarnover, and at StevenBe’s FiberFest – and very unpredictably for a woman with a brand new camera, I took so few pictures that it would boggle the mind. I have a few of the market at Yarnover – which was a huge and wondrous spread,
and I thought I had one of the shop at StevenBe, which is likewise nothing more than a great room of temptation. but it turns out that I just have a picture of Jeremy (Chief in charge of order at the store) looking at me suspiciously, which may pretty much sum up our relationship.
I also have this one, which records the moment that I was so captivated with Lucy Neatby’s new E-book, A Little book of BIG holes for Hand Knitters, that I took all leave of my senses and let her pick me not just two projects, but the yarn for them.
She was, despite the obviously disparate state of our tastes, astute in the extreme when she picked them. I’m thrilled. So thrilled in fact, that between the charm of new yarn and the exhaustion of travelling that way, I’ve spent the better part of a day winding new yarn and trying to resist the urge to cast on two new things. I expect my fortitude to fail shortly. The last picture is one I snapped last night at heaven knows what time, as I sprinted down the rainbow hall thingie at O’Hare, trying to make a flight for home.
More tomorrow, when I’ve rested, slept and thrown all my current projects on a fire in favour of new and amazing things. They don’t call me Harlot for nothing.