I spent all day yesterday making my way home from Sacramento where I had a most lovely time teaching and generally enjoying (however briefly)  California.  This was a really great surprise, since when I agreed to teach there, I can tell you that I quite honestly believed that Sacramento was somewhere in the Midwest.  I can’t tell you how stunned I was when I booked the flight and figured it out.  Now,  I know right about now a whole bunch of you are sitting there in front of your computer thinking about what a moron I am, after all – Sacramento isn’t just in California, it’s the capital of California and how could anyone not know that, but I beg of you to consider what you know of Canadian capitals or geography before you judge my knowledge of American ones. It’s not like they teach your state capitals in our schools any more than they teach you ours.  My knowledge is gleaned entirely from travel, reading and US sitcoms. Apparently this is a dodgy system. I’ll spend a little more time with my atlas. 

There were other shocks to the system… like this one.

I can tell you that intellectually, I knew that oranges grew on trees, but emotionally? I was totally unprepared for them.  I kept taking their pictures and  only just managed not to confront random Californians by staggering up to them and saying "Dudes! There is FOOD growing on your city trees!’ (I may not have managed not to look totally stunned about it to the knitters.)  I also got a quick tour of the Capital from Beth (she’s really nice) and looked for Arnold.

I didn’t find him though.  The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of teaching and in that queer paradox of teaching knitting, even though the only topic and priority was knitting, I didn’t get a lot of it done.  I did finish a pretty pair of socks that have been loitering on the needles for a week or two…

Spring Forward socks , beautiful Sophie’s Toes yarn in "Antique". 

but overall,  I only had plane knitting time, and as I related in the last post, the long flight to Denver on Friday resulted in nothing but the sad euthanasia of Frankenmitten.  She was reborn however, as Daughter of Frankenmitten. (Thanks for that Tracy. Great name.) and got my time on the flight home.

Daughter of Frankenmitten seen here in San Francisco Airport, shortly before I mis-juggled a coffee – splashed her slightly, and wore the rest of the cup magnificently down my right leg all the way to Toronto.  (Why yes, I am an extraordinarily graceful person. Why do you ask?)  An updated picture of her shortly, as she’s recovering from a bit of a bath and wash up.   While I wait for her to dry off, I should be spinning, on account of it’s Tuesday, but since I missed Monday in an airport, I’m making today an honourary Monday/Tuesday, and I’m swatching the yarn I spun last week to make sure that it’s going to work before I spin more. There’s a story behind why I suspect that it won’t, but I’ll tell you tomorrow.
There’s only so dim I’m willing to risk looking in one day, and I’ve already got the Sacramento thing working against me today.