We're Not Your Grandmother's Knitters

If the last two days brought to mind music, today the tempo is more upbeat and the theme is Billy Joel's song and the line "you may be right, I may be crazy." Only substitute WE for I.

For tomorrow I am off to STITCHES Midwest. I'd have said a knitting convention, but that just pisses off the crocheters and they have feelings too.

And I am pumped or in the vernacular of the fiber community SQUEEEE!

I asked my husband if he wanted to drive three of us to Chicago for the weekend. He couldn't imagine why I wanted him there until I suggested that if he drove, we could knit. Next came some comment about eye and sharp stick, but I told him that isn't something to be said around knitters who carry the tools of their trade.  He said he couldn't imagine spending five hours in the car with three of us, and then when he thought about a whole hotel and conference center full ... well ... needless to say, no chauffeur and one of us will be driving.

Mike's apprehension may have been based on the text conversation I was having with my 'peeps', at the time. It  was around the topic of willy warmers and penis cozies and a potential side business. (One of the knitters was at an Irish festival and thought the guys with kilts might need them. In case you're wondering, yes, there are patterns out there for them — click at your own risk if you don't believe me.)

We are NOT your grandmother's knitting group.

On Friday night we had our monthly 'Sit and Knit' (it used to be Ladies Night, but some guy complained so it got changed. I have yet to see him come — wimp.) The ages ranged from 16 to 70+. There were sweaters, socks, shawls and one unidentifiable project being made with acrylic Red Heart. Topics ranged from matchmaking (my son and the daughter of another knitter. Hey, it's the only way I hear how it's going. You think my son tells me?), progress of our projects, exploding toilets, vacation wine math (if you leave on vacation with four bottles, drink two bottles, how many bottles do you come home with? The answer is eleven), new yarn and patterns we've seen, books we're reading and in general how everyone is doing.  You know, your typical Friday night conversations. At one point I was laughing so hard I feared for bladder control and another knitter thought I was never going to breath again.

Where was I? Oh yes, the convention and why Mike won't be our chauffeur. I still don't get it. We're mostly harmless.

So tomorrow we'll pack a vehicle we finally agree on and hit the highway (Said vehicle must fit multiple suitcases, knitting paraphernalia, a spinning wheel and cooler on the way up and then all of that, on the way home along with stash enhancements acquired at said convention. My car won't work. It would get us there, but not home. Crap, I forgot about the knitters! Semi?) I anticipate five hours of knitting and laughter. What's that joke? Three knitters walk into a store, one teacher, one real estate appraiser and one college administrator...

Expect posts and pictures from Chicago where I'll be walking through a trade show, sitting in classes learning new techniques, networking with other knitters, and likely acting like a groupie in Franklin Habit's class on Saturday. Did I mention the pajama party on Friday night?

All I can say is "you may be right, we may be crazy. But it just might be a lunatic you're looking for." Oh, and SQUEEEE!