One Year

It has been exactly one year since my last (and first) post to this blog. And quite frankly I have nothing of interest to put in this particular post. I just thought it would be appropriate considering I just realized it has been exactly one year, to the day, since I posted.

In the past year I quit my job, continued to continue my education but I'm hitting it a bit harder now, had another birthday, recently lost a family member, have become a better (by no means great, much less good, but at least better) housewife, had a medical scare, and got a new dog. Not in that order.

Oh, and I've been knitting like a fiend. I've been knitting so much that I've started to branch out to things other than afghans, finally, after 9 years. I knitted some awesome toys, tried a poncho (really should have used some different yarn) and thought about trying a cardigan or the like for myself. I've also been thinking about designing my own hats and mittens and selling them in the next Fall and Holiday Expo that my sister and brother-in-law put on every year. That really is an ultimate goal for myself, selling my knitted goods.

Currently I'm working on an afghan for my mom and will soon be casting on a drop stitch afghan for my "mother-in-law" (she really isn't but her son and I have been pretty cozy for the last 7 years, so for lack of a better term, this one will do, besides she's awesome and I love her like a mother).

Well, on to more knitting and hopefully I will find interesting things to post in the future, even if I am the only one who will ever read this.

I Meet The Yarn Harlot

A couple of nights ago I had an experience like no other I have ever had. I went to a “book reading” by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. I showed up at a church on the Plaza in Kansas City, which is a city that is 1 hour and 45 minutes away from my hometown and I had no idea what to expect. The reality of the experience was much better than my imagination of the situation.

As I was sitting there, all by myself, I pulled out a sock. This in any non-knitting situation would have just ended up giving me some weird looks and maybe some whispers behind hands. Did that happen this time? No my friends it did not. As soon as I pulled out my half finished sock the lady next to me made my heart flutter. She wanted to touch the yarn, wanted to know what kind of yarn it was, and where in the world did I manage to get it?! Then another lady said “Isn’t that nutkins?” People, this made my jaw hit the floor. Nowhere can you find a person in my little town that would 1) ask to see, touch and know what kind of yarn is being used and 2) recognize the pattern being used on a tangle of string hanging off of four needles that are pointy on each end. It was magic.

Anyway, listening to the Yarn Harlot was a pure joy. I laughed so hard I had tears streaming down my face. I loved listening to her and I’m so glad I went. But of course, being the bumbling idiot that I am when it comes to actual conversation, when I got to speak to her while having my book signed I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I managed to spit out a “hi” and a few other mumbles.

I didn’t have the courage to show her my incomplete sock and therefore didn’t accomplish my main goal of getting into the first sock brigade. I had it in my hand (as evidenced by the above picture and the purple lump in hand) but I just couldn't bring myself to foist this sock onto a woman who didn't even know me, had been looking at more-than-likely superior knitting for the better part of two hours and had to be tired out of her gourd. I know I was tired and I wasn't the one who had just flown from another city, given a speech and then signed books for hours so I felt that it wasn't my place to shove this sock in her face. But, I did manage to get a forever from now on treasured picture with a wonderful writter/blogger/knitter with Harlot in her name.