Here I am, perpetually exhausted in Seattle. I think it’s the time change, since even with a decent sleep under me, once I make the shift to this time zone I’m wiped out all the time. There’s something about travelling against the normal flow of time that just weirds me out. I’ve been here three days and I feel like I’m really late all the time.

Seattle thing the first: Third Place Books hunting for knitters. Boy, did I find knitters. Hundreds of knitters. Seattle is filthy with knitters.

(You can’t really see them, but in the back of this shot are a few random non-knitters who were in the bookstore for other reasons – maybe they have other hobbies. They stood in the back of the store looking at this ocean of people quietly knitting away and you could see them freak out. It was like they couldn’t get a grip. They weren’t interested in knitting but they couldn’t walk away. They stood there the whole time blinking at us all and waiting for some sort of an explanation. i was walking through the store when I overheard a guy say to his buddy “What the $%^is going on? Do you see these people?” and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over to them and said “Dude, attendance is mandatory. It’s the Sunday before Labour Day.” and I walked away.)

I met fabulous knitters. This is Adrienne, answering the eternal burning question “How big would the snowdrop shawl be in worsted weight yarn?”

That big. (Really big. Super big. I’m not even sure that this picture conveys the bigness. The people in the picture are tall. It’s big.)

There was Terry-Jo, Novelty yarn ho. Never met a novelty yarn she didn’t like. (She is the ying to my yang.) Samantha – she makes the best brownies, Yvonne, Katie…

who I am grateful to for getting through the event without giving birth. (Birth really cuts into the knitting time.)

There is an old adage that claims that if an expert knitter places knitting needles in a babys hands, the child will be clever at knitting.

Williams mother flattered me by asking me to do the honours. (Little dude is also going to be a fourth generation knitter. I think he’s set. Forget set, actually. He probably has no choice.)

Sasha brought me a Washington washcloth. I have covered Sasha’s face because she was a very nice person that I liked a lot and no woman who would knit a roaming knitter a Washington washcloth deserves the picture I took of her. Trust me. If I published that picture then the washcloth would spontaneously combust in my suitcase, burn all my wool to bits and I would deserve it.)

Jolie took my book to 10 countries. (Good ones. Far ones.)

Lorette was there!

I guess between the two of us we could have delivered Katie’s baby if need be. Still cuts into the knitting time though. She came with Kris and Dorothy.

Heidi the knitting pirate turned up. (Check out Knit Like a Pirate. )

Annamarie had the best tattoo of the day…

and McKenna, McKenna outdid herself.

She made me a felted stashweasel. Dobby the stashweasel. (For the love of wool. Don’t tell Rams about this. She doesn’t need the encouragement firing her imagination.)

The whole time this parade of knitters trouped through, more than 300 knitters, with babies and needles and Yarn Pirates and tattoos and travelling socks posed on big baby bellies and huge shawls and socks meeting socks and knitters trailing shawls and half knit sweaters and comparing circulars…and touching each others yarn and yelling “hey…touch these balls” (It was a new ball winder. Don’t think that way.) and tiny little stashweasels this whole time that all of this was going on, the muggles in the store just kept staring at us.

I have no idea why.

Seattle things the second and third coming your way tomorrow. I’m too sleepy today.