Dear Blog,
It is when things move quickly that I have the hardest time telling you what things are like- and the last few days? Whoa. I'm specializing in moving fast. I went from hanging at Jen's cottage with her and the kids - canoeing, swimming, walking, knitting, gathering lichen for dye (I'm sure you'll hear more about that as we go forward) and not doing anything more complicated than answering the question "Auntie Stephie? Are you available to hunt for frogs?"
To hopping in the car and driving seven hours for Saint-Andre-Avellin for the Twist Festival, to leaping back in the car and going (very briefly) to visit family, then on to Perth where I taught the first of three days in a well appointed boardroom, and am now ensconced in a lovely bed and breakfast.
I have to tell you, this whole setup is whiplash. I went from (mostly) speaking english to (badly) trying to manage french (really badly- though I think it's only fair to blame joual for part of it) and from sleeping in a cabin the woods to sleeping in an auberge de jeunesse (youth hostel) to a B&B with a bed so posh it has steps up to it.
I have no idea what I'm doing anymore - so I'm just going to show you what the Festival was like.
For the record? The marketplace was amazing. It was my most favourite combination of interesting things to see and interesting things to buy, and since I have a soft spot for Canadian companies, and for excellent yarn in general, the combination was deadly, and the only reason I stopped hemorrhaging money was because I left. Shout outs to Roving Winds Cashmere, Riverside Studios and Turtlepurl who all cost me money. Nice yarn dudes. Nice yarn. I'm off to sleep, because I have my money on tomorrow being as fast moving as today, but I leave you with this. 
I had dinner tonight at this pub... and it was an old stone building, and beautiful, and I loved it, but here's the best part... It was an old felt mill. I don't even rightly know what a felt mill is, but I felt properly at home.
It has to have something to do with wool.