Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The Whore and the Harlot

Okay, maybe I'm being a little harsh, but I have certainly been taking and taking and taking from the community, not the behavior of an upstanding citizen. No Siree-Bob. I've been lurking, not commenting, not posting, nothing. Well, things are going to change around here. This Wounded little knitter will not let her dwindling readership and the knitting community as a whole down! As this blog is my witness, I will try not to be a blog whore anymore!!!

Whew, channelling Scarlett O'Hara wears me out. Where was I? Oh yes, the turning over of a new bloggerly leaf (again). First, I visited all my regular blogs and left at least one comment. Then I decided to divulge the secret of the DUCK Project. Now, I'm going to pretend that everything is normal and gush about the Harlot (I can call her "Harlot"; We're cool like that).

Hey look! A Yarn Harlot!

The Yarn Harlot and her publicist were kind enough to have her swing by my neck of the woods for a talk! And I somehow got the time off of work to actually attend! And the exclamation points just keep coming!

I've been around groups of knitters before, but to watch the hands of nearly everyone in the room fluttering away in silence was downright eerie. It was like watching a fly-trap full of moths try to fly away. I bet if someone was sitting behind me and had me in the view of the floor I would have been fluttering away as well... My fluttering hands finished up the latest Husboy sock while the Harlot was talking about CHOKE.



Another wonder of the many wonders of the day had the HusBoy's work releasing him into my custody for the afternoon, which means that the second seat that I didn't think I'd need, I ended up needing. The HusBoy said that the other significant others that got "dragged" there were giving him sympathetic looks on our way to our seats. He may not like admitting it but he's read her first book and laughed throughout.


On the Harlot's blog entry about the day we're the two heads back lit against the window. As much as I'd like to lie and say that we were this cheerful through the whole thing. The talk was lovely and Stephanie was as terrified and clever and wonderful as I could have possibly hoped, but once she was done speaking and the millions and millions of knitters that had attended all tried to mill around and get out one door, my exhausted insomniac self and the antsy husband were not this picture of marital bliss.

If I had been able to find the washcloth I had knitted for her (found this morning behind a nightstand) or could think of something intelligible to say, I would have happily stood in line forever. As it was, I could barely string enough words together to tell my increasingly irritable husband where he could shove the horse he rode in on and get us out of the auditorium. I may or may not have started sobbing on the train ride home about not being able to remember how many stitches to cast on for his second sock. I may be getting past the age where I can function with less than three hours of sleep a night for a week. Thank goodness for tolerant people who love you and will escort your crabby ass home and put you to bed.

I still feel bad that I didn't get a chance to get my books signed or tell her how much she's impacted my life and my knitterly sense of empowerment and well-being, but I figure that a thank-you card with a palm-tree dishcloth might just do the trick after all.

1 comment:

aija said...

I'm sure it will, too :) I waited to have my book signed when she was here in northern CA, it was nice to have it done, but wow did I wait!