You know what? London (Ontario) was pretty darn good. I worry about these things. (You may or may not have noticed, it’s a really subtle thing) but I tend to worry. A lot. Even though this is about the 25th shop I’ve been to in 4 months, and about the 20th talk I’ve given about knitting, and even though I have met about 2000 knitters while I’m doing this, and it’s always been fine, I worry.
I don’t know what I think is going to happen, but I imagine all sorts of problems. As we were driving to London, I imagined a knitter who heckles me. A knitter who thinks I’m all wrong, a knitter who seriously takes knitting seriously and thinks I’m being seriously disrespectful. I imagine they take me on about this. I imagine power-blackouts, stalkers (Sort of a Kathy Bates “wronged by knitting type” who has been driven insane by an attempt to get gauge on a Starmore and somehow holds me responsible) or a dude who has problems, highspeed access and completely disgusting -if inventive, urges toward my fleece stash. I imagine traffic jams that make me late, that I’ll forget my notes…that I’ll throw up, get lost, say something horrible, swear…forget the name of the shop owner who’s busting themselves for me.(Ellen. Ellen. Ellen.) or forget how to knit. That last one may not be so far out there.
On the way to the shop I was knitting along, looked down and saw this:
See that? Where I’ve managed to upset myself so badly that I have somehow, somehow forgotten, even though this blanket is immense, unending and perpetual, even though I’ve knit about four MILLION of these little lace blocks and they are simple as pie….even though I was sitting in a car, looking right at the knitting….I have apparently forgotten how to knit a square.
This does nothing to increase my confidence. I’m on my way to face up to all these knitters (who are insane. By now I am sure they are insane) and I can’t knit a square. They are going to beat me to death with my own book.
I started trying to fix it (You know. Before I get to London and my cover is blown.) but I ran out of time. We got there, I got in front of everybody, and I took a picture of all the lovely London Knitters.
This is them.
They look normal enough, don’t they? I talked, I didn’t throw up, then we went next door to the yarn shop and did my favourite part. The knitters. I signed books, I talked with knitters, I got to see everyones knitting….I confessed about the baby blanket. (The knitters said the baby won’t care. I think this particular baby is worth the trouble though…so I’m going to fix it.) It was lovely.
and I am obsessive and worried for nothing because they are all charming and clever and funny and decent and not trying to steal my yarn at all. (Much. That Brainylady is pretty tricky though. Fast too.)
The sock met all of these charming knitters and many more and was happy, though feels sad that it did not yet have an opportunity to do anything that would qualify it for this challenge. Extreme knitting? I’m so your knitter. (I can’t be the only person who thinks that Teri is a genius and this is going to be way fun….right? Don’t hurt yourselves trying.)
Finally, as I wander off to place my knitting in harms way (or possibly make a tiny little parachute and some sort of sock harness….)
Happy Birthday Norma!
Do me a favour and hop over and wish our Norma a happy day, will ya? Nothing says Happy Birthday like having your comments explode.