It was Sunday night when I remembered.  That was my 11th night away from home, and I was sitting in a hotel room feeling unloved and lost for absolutely no good reason when it came over me in a wave.  The number is ten. That’s the number of days I can be away from home for work before it messes me up. Some switch inside me flips, and I start to be melancholic and dejected, and then I remember. Ten. After ten days I need my people, my home, my tea and my bathtub, and it doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing, or what my reason for being there is.  It’s amazingly predictable, and still takes me by surprise every time.  This time, if it were possible to avoid the tenth day snap, I would have. As a matter of fact, I think how amazingly fantastic my previous days were are the only reason that it was the 11th night (and the night before I flew home, which was lucky and lovely) before I met the void of homesickness, because pets, that last trip was epic.

(That was the appetizer on our last night there. Big love to Splityarn and WEBS for the treats.)

We had a fabulous Strung Along retreat at Port Ludlow (and the next one is coming up fast– have I mentioned that we’re accepting registrations as of a few days ago?)  I keep thinking that these retreats can’t get any better, but this time Clara Parkes and Kate Atherley hit it out of the park, and the weather was fabulous, and the retreaters were the grooviest bunch yet – and I’m not just saying that to be nice. They were a remarkable group, right down to the one that made off with one of the yarnbombings, and promptly got it an instagram account.  We don’t know who it was, but Debbi and I can take some responsibility for the two sibling accounts that cropped up shortly thereafter.  It was a wonderful immersion in all things knitterly, and I can’t believe my luck, because my next gig was just as terrific.

I  trucked out of Port Ludlow and headed for Vancouver, and from there to a retreat with Knit Social on Galiano Island.

It was very different, and very wonderful, and delightful to tramp around the Island, enjoying beautiful views and great food, only stopping long enough to teach about knitting, talk about knitting, and when we weren’t in class, hang out with knitters and knit.

The retreat was small, and intimate, and Fiona and Amanda do a wonderful job of making it a perfect universe for a few days. I wish they were in charge of more. It was brilliant.

Now I’m home, if only for three days, before I head out to Yarnover, and FiberFest. (Yarnover and one of the FiberFest classes are all sold out, but there’s still room in my lecture style class on Colour Theory for Textile Artists. I love teaching this kind of class. Without putting too fine a point on it, knitters are artists, and I think we need the vocabulary and training that other artists get to be really good at it.)  Last night the kids all came home for dinner, and tonight we’re seeing friends, and tomorrow I’ll get a fix of Luis, and then it’s back on a plane.

I’ve finished a shawl, a sweater, a pair of socks and made a good size dent in a few other things, but lets talk about that tomorrow, shall we?  I’ve got to wash my clothes and put them back in my suitcase, while reflecting that the ten day limit aside? This is pretty much the best job ever.