. . . and I still haven’t caught up from the last one. (Excuse me while I go move the laundry from the washer to the dryer.)
So much to say/show, so little time (I’d planned to go into work tonight to do a little catching up, but here I am instead).
The night before had been a wonderful evening (other than me leaving town three hours later than planned). The Gothlet and I met up for dinner with Kmkat and Deb, along with Deb’s daughter (she and the Gothlet immediately put their heads together and, I think, were commiserating about having yarn-obsessed mothers). It was a blast; it was hard to stop talking long enough to eat! Bad blogger, no pictures; I was frazzled from being late (not three hours late, only half an hour, but still!).
Then the morning pictured, I woke up with the sun (a luxury for me, it’s usually still getting up in the dark), and since I knew the Gothlet wouldn’t be awake until I dragged her out of bed, I got to knit – and read – in blessed peace and quiet. And I finished something! Which I then had to wear immediately because it’s way cool —
The Multidirectional Diagonal Scarf scarf in Twisted Duchess yarn, the Ravelry colorway. I love it! (I did get lots of compliments on it that day at the Knit Out & Crochet 2008; which I accepted on behalf of the fantastic yarn.)
So, eventually, I forced my night-owl younger daughter (it was just she and I, as my husband had too much to do at home, and my older daugher had been invited to a friend’s birthday party) out of bed, into clothes, and down to breakfast, then to the shuttle to the Mall of America. If it had been just me, I would have walked, but her legs are still kind of short, and I thought it would be faster. Faster, ha! The power of knitters and crocheters — the shuttle bus was already full and on its way, and coming back for another load; but it took a while. On the way over, the Gothlet and another birthday girl were serenaded by the entire bus, as I mentioned; too cool. Eventually, we arrived at our destination, a little later than I had planned to meet my aunt (the story of my life this whole weekend): After the rendezvous, we saw this sign and this line: which went as far as we could see. (This was, owing to our lateness, about half an hour after the event started.) So, knowing there were giveaways and booths, we found the end of the line, and I cast on: Well, we were in that line for over an hour and a half; and didn’t get to all the booths; most of it was just waiting (and knitting on my part) and chatting with the people in line by us, who were entertaining. (Seeing the lines as we got closer to the swag explained the wait; people were reaching in and cutting in, and joining their friends right and left; no wonder the lines moved so slowly. There must be a better way!) Anyway, the woman ahead of us in line had something to share:
Yarn breeds at night. Don’t you wind up with more yarn than you think you bought? And — have you never wondered where BLENDS come from?!?
With linemates like that, time went fast! I never got a good picture of the Paton’s guys having fun tossing yarn into bags, but I do have a picture of the wrong side of the Lion Brand Yarns Lion: (The Gothlet hid behind me as we went by.) There were some very confused muggles at the MOA, may I say; I love the expression on the guy in green’s face! Then there was the guy who asked me and my aunt what the line was all about: “Yarn.” “They’re standing in line for yarn??” “Yep.” “YARN???” Total incomprehension.
Anyway, we then tracked down Deb who had hung out her shingle as a Knitting Doctor She will have to tell you what the gentleman said about twisted stitches;
it was really cute, but I won’t get it quite right if I try to. see her comment below for what he’s saying!
Then lunch, Deb, the Gothlet, my aunt Kathi and I; talk, talk, talk! We missed the canine knitted/crocheted fashion show, which would have been fun, but all of us needed food at that point more. And more talking! Eventually, however, Deb had to go do a shoe thing, I too had to go find (different) shoes for us people with less-than-common feet , and my aunt needed to go home. And besides, the Gothlet had been very patient (I did buy her a book to read in line….) so we went off to wait in lines for rides (there are amusement park rides in the center of the Mall of America, for those who haven’t been there) — since not only a good whack of knitters and crocheters were there, but I swear, every child and teen in the Twin Cities were there too, and all wanting to ride the same rides as the Gothlet! (Here she is:)
and for a stop at the Storey booth (publishing home of the Yarn Harlot, which was the main reason I stopped by). But while I was there, I filled out a contest entry; and since you had to be present to win, I planned the afternoon to end up back there at 5 pm, along with a slug of other crafters.
But she perked right up when I won a prize!
My Lucky Day! So: a few more rides, and then back to the hotel to collapse (or swim, depending on whether you are a parent or an almost 10-year-old).
(that banana leaf must have been over five feet long)
the Sunken Garden again
the orchid-growing room, such a contrast to the outside world
and a knitting tie-in in the Palm Dome, even if they got the name of the stitch a little wrong! Not nearly enough time here, partly because (surprise, surprise) I was late.
Well, this time, besides the usual morning slug aka Gothlet, and single parenting, and getting all our loot & luggage out to the car by myself (husbands do come in handy as pack mules, as he says); there was also another factor. (Digression ahead!)
First, I have no innate sense of direction. None. If I come out of an unfamiliar building by a different entrance than I came in, chances are very good I will go 180 degrees from the way I should be going. So I rely on maps, which I’m quite good at. Though I used to live in the Twin Cities, it’s been 18 years (wo!) and I didn’t drive everywhere much of that time. Especially in suburban Minneapolis — just no reason to, except to visit my friend in Plymouth. So, imagine my dismay when I realized that my husband’s car, which I had borrowed for the trip because it handles better in snow, had no maps in it. I meant to buy one sometime this weekend, but never carved out the time.
Thus I’m heading from the MegaMall to the Como Conservatory; I know the general area I’m going, but the highways are not necessarily cooperating with the way I want to go, with me winging it. (As in, you can’t get there from here.) And the highway salt and dirt is leaving my windshield filthy, at which point I find that my husband’s car has no windshield wiper fluid (well, you don’t need it much when it’s subzero!). So, exiting rather later from a different highway than I’d planned to take, I decided to stop by a gas station to a) buy a map, b) buy windshield wiper fluid, and c) put gas in for the trip home (gas was a lot cheaper in the Twin Cities than back home, in any case).
Well, they don’t have a map for sale (small service station) but the guy there assures me I’m exactly where I thought, and very close to my destination. And I fuel up and buy windshield washer fluid. But — the hood won’t open. I’m pulling the little handle inside the car, I’m feeling around under the hood, nothing’s budging. I call my husband (should be between services at church, but there’s choir rehearsal) — no answer. I ask the guy if he has any idea; he says he’ll help me when he can, in a moment. In the meantime, my husband does call back and tells me, “It sticks sometimes — you just have to give the hood a whack.” So picture me out there, crazy middle-aged knitter lady on a Sunday morning, pounding and pounding on the hood — whack, WHACK, WHACKWHACKWHACK! — no result. Finally, the service station guy comes out and has me pull the inside lever out while HE pounds at the same time. BINGO! The hood opens, and finally I can pour the vision-restoring elixir in and be on my way to the Conservatory. Where my brother has been patiently waiting for, oh, an hour now. If I had gotten there when I planned, or even in a timely fashion from when I left the hotel, I actually could have parked closer than three blocks away; this is the place to be on a Sunday if you have kids, apparently, now that they have opened up their new Tropical Encounters room with animals and birds in it. Next time — get there earlier, allow more time! Then, there was the little fact that I said I’d meet him at the entrance. When I lived there, there was only one entrance…. Anyway, eventually we did find each other among the greenery.
After that, brunch at Day by Day Café with said brother as well as my brother-in-law and his wife (their anniversary too! Happy Anniversary!) , which was great, then to Café Latté for a birthday treat to import across state lines to Wisconsin (so good, I think it might be illegal, look at the look on that face!)
BTW: Cool hat, $5 at Ragstock. Her choice. Good taste.
Also BTW: Jeanne, move away from your keyboard. I don’t want to be responsible for any moisture damage. Leftover Cafe Latte Chocolate Chocolate Cake:
It came with a whole dissertation on how to keep and how to cut it (Hot Non-Serrated knife; and No Refrigerator, please!). And it tasted even better than it looks. (Looked better before it got attacked, but I wasn’t about to get between the cake and the hungry hordes with a camera, I’d be run over!)
Then, after my husband called me with the news that it was SNOWING SIDEWAYS back home (which it was), right about the time I took the blue-sky-smiling-with-cake-Ragstock-hat picture just above, we hopped into the car (now newly equipped with windshield wiper fluid but still no map; that’s okay, I know the way home) and headed downriver. We saw eagles, but I didn’t stop to take pictures given the potential for slow driving ahead. Here’s a picture of the stormclouds down south, though, looking down the frozen Mississippi:
It had already snowed here some, but stopped already and the plows had been out. We lucked out; we followed the storm, and the plows, all the way, and the sideways snow at home stopped about 45 minutes before we got there. Then birthday festivities as before, and gratefully into bed. Whew. I get tired just typing about it. But last weekend was a blast. Well, since I’ve been back, I’ve knit several stealth projects (one went with me to vote in our state’s primary Tuesday), one of which I guess I can unveil since apparently it made it to its recipient yesterday:
Tiny booties for Cara’s baby-on-the-way! I don’t know Cara personally, just a regular and appreciative reader of her blog (and viewer of her lovely photography); but I had the opportunity to send along a little something to her surprise baby shower which happened yesterday, so I did. They should be about a newborn size, and the yarn (elann.com esprit, a cotton/lycra blend) makes them very comfy and stretchy. I figured this baby will get a plentitude of wondrously colored hand knit items, and might need something that doesn’t clash! My modification of Fleegle‘s modification of Saartje’s baby booties (pdf here). I left off the ever-so-cute buttons, because a brand new mom perhaps doesn’t need to be trying to button four tiny buttons on two waving feet, and worrying about whether her dearling is going to chew the buttons off (frankly, with well hand-sewn buttons, I’m not worried at all, but there the warnings are, so with this stretchy yarn, I just sewed the straps on; plenty of give to put the bootie on, I promise). The fingering weight yarn makes it newborn-ish size rather than 3-6 month. Boy, there’s more to tell you, but this post is already of epic proportions, so I will leave it at that, with just yesterday’s Saturday Sky as a fitting bookend:
And a surprise for those of you who have made it this far: I just noticed that this blog is approaching its thousandth comment. Be that lucky thousandth commenter, and a lovely skein of yarn will come make its home with you! If you win, I’ll find a special skein of yarn for you in the Stash of Stashes, based on how close I can get to the yarn of your dreams. Thanks for reading, and for commenting! It’s been awfully fun writing.