Stitches…

So…If I told you all that I woke up from a dream in which my dad was about to bust me necking with my boyfriend after blowing all my college money on yarn, would you have some idea of how much money I dumped yesterday?

Yeah…

It was embarrassing–on the train home (the train was another story–I’ll get there…) where complete strangers were showing off their purchases, I would wait until I caught that spark of shocked disbelief in someone’s eyes and then stop showing them yarn, pretending that what they’d seen was all I had. I mean, I thought Chicken would keep me honest (while making me spend more money on her, of course…) but I dropped her in a class for beginners (which apparently she didn’t need–she said she knew than all the other kids there already) and then did my best impersonation of a junkie in a crack factory all on my own.

But how could I help myself?

This person was there, and all of her work was really just as gorgeous as it looks on the net. These people were there too–but they were picked through already–on Saturday, no less! Serves me right for not taking a day off work to indulge my obsession, really. And then, when I thought I’d seen it all, I discovered a quiet miracle, these people right here. You had to see this yarn…subtle color gradations, bags packed of complimentary variegations…

Seriously–I came home and had a fibergasm on the train. Oh, yeah–about the train…

The muggles underestimated us again… the morning train was STANDING ROOM ONLY…they had another train, just SITTING THERE in Sacramento, but after packing four cars in Sacramento, they didn’t count on the other knitters boarding in the OTHER SIX STOPS on the way down to Santa Clara. It was kind of fun though…yes, I too have done my part to freak out the muggles. The train home was much less crowded, but the shuttle from the convention center got us to the open air train station about 45 minutes before the train got there. It was 45 degrees outside…which is not cold by, say Midwestern standards, but since we were all dressed in sweaters because, really, we were planning to spend most of our day inside, it made for a rather blue fingered 45 minutes.

That didn’t keep me from working on the sock to replace the one I got stolen (since it was a present for someone and all…) but it did mean I spent an extra 5 minutes in the ittle-wittle bathroom with the hand-dryer on , trying to get rid of the ache.

I missed the little ones all day–I called up Mate on the way home and asked him how they were–he fessed up right away. “They’re fine. Great. Had a good day. Ladybug fell out of the basket and got a bloody nose, but she’s fine.”

Chicken, who was watching me have this conversation asked me later, “What made your eyes get all big like that and your face squinch up?”

“Nothing.” I said brightly. A woman lugging a shoulder bag and a wheeled cart full of new yarn can not quibble over a little of her offspring’s shed blood. It’s written in the marriage vows somewhere, I’m sure of it.