Wet. Cold. I know you've heard about this elsewhere, but really, really wet and cold.
I had to take a picture of my pants.
On the right there you'll see the mittens (Mountain Colors Mountain Goat) that I bought in a moment of desperation. I usually do my own knitting, but these are wonderful and I'm glad I got them.
I even had a moment when I thought The Path was going to flood.
Anyway, despite being fucking freezing, I actually had a wonderful time. A lovely evening, with good knitting and conversation with Laura, Doug, Cynthia, Norma, Jo, and Tigger (who impressed us all by lasting until nearly midnight). Laura has a fiber person's dream house, a lovely view and a rambling place full of nooks and crannies stocked with wheels, looms, fiber, and yarn. I slept in between a Leclerc and a Kromski. Life is good.
The next morning, off we went in the pouring rain for, erm, a picnic.
We went right to Dave's booth, and Jo wound up giving a hitchiker a ride back to Ottawa. These things happen, and I wasn't about to stand in her way. Then a Grafton Fibers spindle started yelling at me, and I did the only reasonable thing and bought the pushy thing. Then, I'm standing there minding my own business, and Kellee happens by and--now think about this for a moment--asks me whether she should buy a fleece. I will add that it is a 7-pound fleece for $21. Ahem. I just have to say that I am the right person to ask when you already know the answer. (It's "yes" by the way. Just in case you weren't clear.) Kellee and I were clearly separated at birth. She pointed out that charkhas are really quite easy to hide. This is a woman who knows how to think about such things.
There are only a handful of pictures on my camera. I do, however, recognize a potentially historic moment when I see one. Julia was readily enabled into a spectacular mahogany Vermont Wheel. Here's the moment they first met.
You can see the chemistry right there. As I said in Julia's comments, my happiness for her almost eclipses my burning jealousy that she now owns this wheel. Almost.
Despite making all sorts of promises to myself about being a bit more responsible with the budget and not spending more on wool and yarn-related purchases than on, say, the mortgage, I did happen to fall down at the Bosworth booth, and I swiped my credit card on the way down. A book charkha--the one that I have been coveting for a year now--followed me home. I almost brought it on my business trip today, but I really didn't want to try to explain to TSA what it is. FemiKnit Mafia was there to witness the incident. She was enabled into a lovely Bosworth spindle in the process. I will say that teaching people to spindle is much easier when your hands aren't numb and you're not soaking wet. Rain date for the Mafia's spinning lesson.
The picnic, if you could call it that, went off pretty darned well considering it was 40 degrees and pouring and the covered picnic tables were occupied by kids' workshops that nobody was attending. We found a small overhang and got resourceful. It was actually a lovely get together. "Your lips are blue, are mine?" was the standard small talk. But we bloggers proved our
mettle mental illness mettle and braved it all for a nice meet and greet. Next year, baby, it will be sunny and think of what fun we'll have.
I'm very happy to report that my friend Barb's Foxfire Fiber booth was swarmed by bloggers, and I see the cashmere-silk evidence all over blogland today. That's Norma and Carole fondling the merchandise. Only Jo held out, despite the rich purpleness of the cashmere-silk roving. I expect she'll cave at Rhinebeck. Resistance is futile.
There's more, including photos from a much drier mother's day brunch the next day, but I need to post this if it's ever going to get read. To round out my week of madness, I'm now in Chicago getting ready to do a poster session (woo! as in, what the hell was my stupid idea signing up for this thing?) and then to meet up with Sara and Teri (real woo this time) for our
professional conference knitblogger meetup.
Because life wasn't weird enough. But in a good way.