Instead we made chili, opened up more wine,

and played Sequence. 

There might have also been some bobble head impressions from my husband.  Or not.  He is strongly denying any such thing in spite of witnesses.

My husband and I met the first minutes of the new year quietly without noise or celebration.  The last minutes of the first day were the exact opposite.  Those minutes were loud, full of laughter, and spent with friends from our wine club.   I cannot think of a better way to start a new calendar than with family, friends, good food, and wine.  If the rest of the days of 2009 are more of the same, I will consider myself very blessed.

Sure . . . I trust him with my wool as much I’d let him guard a flock of chickens.

He insisted that I should take pictures of the other treasures he brought home.  Okay, I insisted.  I was still caught up in the cuteness that was the inch worm. 

I’m not sure what critter this is supposed to represent. He told me, but I was too busy making sure I had captured it in the best light to pay attention. In my defense, Hubby can’t tell the difference between alpaca and wool. That makes it okay to not know, right?

What really struck me, though, was the way he looked while talking about them.  Some fantastic combination of serious, excited, happy, passionate, ecstatic, and giddy. Do we look like that when we talk about wool?  I hope so.

Not too long ago, Shannon asked for volunteers to be recipients of her talents.  I couldn’t raise my virtual hand fast enough.  I have first hand knowledge of how creative and talented she is with her sewing machine.  And I love all things purse, bag, or tote-like.  I collect them . . . for my knitting projects.   Other less important items like my drivers license, credit cards, keys, and cash range free in my car, house, office, and desk.  Since I have a confirmed and uncurable case of starting projects faster than I can finish them, my need for all things purse, bag, or tote-like continually grows.  Thank you, Shannon!  This little tote is just right for socks.  Or mittens.  Or a scarf.  Or a hat . . . 

We made good use of the weekend even with the change of plans.   Neither of us had ever visited Dollywood before.  There was a bluegrass festival at the park.  Live concerts were being held all over the grounds and bluegrass is music we both enjoy.  We had our first taste of fried green tomatoes.  There were shops that displayed handcrafts such as blacksmithing, glass blowing, and pottery.  We also rode roller coasters and a few water rides.  The irony was not lost on me that we deliberately positioned ourselves in the driest spot in the car in spite of our previous willingness to get thoroughly soaked on a river.

We also walked the streets of Gatlinburg.  While it appears to be a mecca of tourist shopping, it also has a very quaint charm.  Taking a lift to the top of a nearby mountaintop,  we were able to take in a panoramic view of the Smokies.  We marvelled at the absence of visible homes among the  mountain sides and wondered if they were there below the trees out of sight.

My father even indulged my yarn addiction with a trip to a LYS, the Smokey Mountain Spinnery.  I considered it a good omen that the owner shared her shop space with her husband’s fishing supply store.  I scored some Handpaint Originals from Brown Sheep Co. in coordinating colors.  I am envisioning mittens in the yarn’s future.  Bonus – vacation yarn never counts as stash enhancement.  I think I read that rule somewhere.

Even though we failed to achieve our main objective, it was a weekend to remember.  It turned out well – full of good music, food, and fun.  I’m crossing my fingers that next year I’ll be able to add a good soaking to the list.

I’m sure that all will go well and that the worst that will happen is a good soaking.  But if not, will you please make sure that my husband doesn’t use my stash for fishing?

So, while my dear husband reviews a local map and plots an absurdly out of the way a perfect alternative route for me, I’m going to enjoy my morning tea and catch up with you fine people. 

Stitches was a wonderful time.  As I did last year, I roomed with Marji.  Every time I spend time with her, I walk away the better for it.  She is generous of her time and knowledge.  I also had the priveledge of being the first to see her fabulous smocked dress.  Pictures by no means do it justice. 

I only took two classes this year – Mastering Yarn Substitution and Swatch Lab.   I was able to what I learned from both classes to use almost immediately.  Don’t you love it when a class enables that type of practical application? 

However, the best part was meeting new people.  Some I was anticipating, some just crossed my path.  Lorraine and Jewel had plans to meet Marji.  Delightful, funny, and intelligent women.  Of course, I had no doubts as to this – they knit and they blog.  Not that knitting and blogging are gaurentees, but it goes a long way, no?   I also met another fellow knitblogger who happened to be present while Marji and I knit in public, under the influence no less.   Hi, Uncle Leona.  She joined in our conversation as if we had known each other for a long time.  Once again proving that knitting bridges all things and makes us all friends.

On the knitting front, the wing issue has been tamed.  A few helpful bits of advice from Marji and Lorraine and several reknits later, the left shoulder is finished.   On US 10.5 needles the right shoulder should be a quick knit.  Since I haven’t had a finished object in more than two months, I am really looking forward to this.  I really need to learn to be more focused and concentrate on knitting only one or two or even just four things at a time.  Choosing smaller projects would probably help, too. 

Now my husband has just handed me a map with clearly labeled turn by turn instructions for a route that takes me almost 2 miles out of my way.  Not even a deliberately created traffic jam will keep me from my mission today.  Wish me luck!

Last night, as I knit on the bird, I was surrounded by more knitters than I’ve ever been except Knit Michigan. It was knit night at LYS.  Three rooms overflowed with laughter, warmth, wheels, needles, and yarn. It was powerful.  Had we been moved to do so, I think we could have solved the energy crisis and world hunger in one swift move. 

I have been fortunate enough to make my way into not just one knitting community but two.  Every Wednesday, a group meets at a local coffee shop.  The people are different but not the power.  This group could also resolve rising gas prices and famine without effort.  Recently, I have not been able to attend regularly.  I miss them. I miss them a lot.  My weeks seem less by not being there.

As I drove home last night, I thought about the sense of place one has in the world. Much has been discussed in blog land about the impact of knitters.  Much has been discussed about how that impact has been overlooked and underestimated by all those who aren’t part of the knitting community. 

Perhaps, the rest of the world is right to be confused by us, to not “get” us.  We seek each other out.  We gather in large numbers in public places. . . frequently.  Most people engaged in that activity are angry or frustrated, gathering to make themselves heard in protest of some injustice. We gather only to make ourselves known to each other.  No agenda, no mission, no higher purpose than to finish one more row, no noise except raucous laughter amongst others engaged in the the same. 

We aren’t demanding our fair share.  We are giving our fair share away without thought of compensation.  We aren’t shouting in angry and disillusioned voices.  We are laughing with passion and excitement. We aren’t building fences or defining borders.  We are charging free admission.  We aren’t out to change the world.  We are on a mission to belong to it, to know that we have a place in it. 

In an increasingly cynical and mistrusting world, it makes sense that knitters and knitting groups are dismissed.  We seem to good to be true.  They are waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Give them time.  They’ll learn – we wear hand knit socks. Shoes are optional.

*The mistake I was referring to is one of details and proportion.  I needed to insert 6 more rows between eye#2 and eye#3.  Something I did not see until I had almost completed the third row of eyes.  C’est la vie.  Such is the way of things sometimes.