SQUEEEE - that's my experience at Stitches Midwest in one word. One made up word, but one word none-the-less.
What an experience and what a community! I'm thrilled to be a part of both.
It began with a five hour ride with two of my enablers friends from the local yarn store. I don't think the conversation stopped the entire time and made the five hours fly. Am I wrong?
Then there was the Market. Major Squeeee! We entered (one with a color coded map and attack plan, one with some ideas of vendors to visit, and one who basically said "whatever") and were bombarded with the sight (and dare I say smell?) of yarn. Gorgeous yarn. LOTS OF IT! And not your everyday, 'I can get this at the local store', yarn. These were independent dyers who loved to tell you what their inspiration was for a particular colorway or why they used the base they did. I've been to trade shows where employees hawk the corporate wares, but this was a room full of passion. From the yarn, to the hand-thrown yarn bowls, the hand-carved drop spindles, the felted stitch markers and the custom made project bags (to name just a few.)
A community of passionate people who loved what they did. How many of us can say that on a daily basis?
And their passion was (ummm...) contagious...
(So contagious that one of us walked around the market, for three days, with a broken toe. Not once complaining, even when the other two of us winced at how painful it looked. Perhaps a study on using yarn as a non-narcotic pain medication is needed. What am I saying?! Yarn is addictive!)
Then there were the connections...
Many times the topic of using an acrylic yarn would come up and I'd mention it was the only yarn I gave my mother to knit with. Since this isn't a yarn most of us knit with (see descriptions of market above), there were questioning looks as to why I'd do that to my mom. Tell them it's due to the dementia, and the stories of others dealing, or having dealt, with the same come pouring out. Like the story of the mother, with Alzheimer's, who in her last days, had all of her daughters come and knit with and around her — one last time.
Connections that we all had a story. Connections that we all used knitting to get us through the hard times. Connections that showed us we're not alone.
No matter where you sat, if there were other knitters near, an easy conversation started. "Where are you from?" "What are you working on?" "I've been wanting to make that, would you be willing to help?" "Did you see glass stitch markers in the market?" and the ever popular "What did you buy?"
Connections that make a community.
A community that also includes its own set of rock stars. Yes, there are knitting celebrities. Yes, some of them have egos. No, I didn't meet any of them. Yes, I did try to act normal nonchalant around Franklin Habit and impress him with my creativity (I kind of failed on both accounts, except when I used my Hershey kisses to improvise as the square tiles we were using to create designs. I hated telling him it wasn't so much creativity as it was laziness to get up and get two more tiles. But he took a picture of it because he thought it was cute. This was not how I had intended to impress him.)
All in all, I had a blast. I came home with a few souvenirs (did you not see the picture?), new, as well, as deepened connections with other knitters, and new knowledge about my craft and myself - but more on that later.
I have a yarn hangover. SQUEEEE!
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!
