I am back from the Fiber Event in nearby Greencastle, which I went to with Huan-Hua, Leigh, Nicole, and Blogless Norma (who has been called “blogless Norma” enough times that I think it’s gotten capitalized). If you get an invite from one of them to go to a fiber festival, GO! More on that, hopefully with pictures taken by other people because I forgot my camera, later this week.

For now, though, it’s time to enlist an unwitting guest blogger. Meet my sister. She is one of the few people I know whose verbal skills allow her to stay lucid and eloquent despite–or perhaps in this case because of–an excess of beer and swearing.

It’s been a long week. <Some Regulatory Agency> showed up on our doorstep (long overdue, but of course bad timing). We hosted <Some Really Great Software Company’s> regional users group; good because I didn’t get told I couldn’t attend due to the possibility they’d need me for survey, bad because it was yet another thing to coordinate. And user group always starts the second day at 8:00, which meant I had to get up at 5:30(ish).

So I’m tired. And I’m drinking, ’cause f***in’ hell, we just passed survey! And I’ve lost the ability to concentrate on my book (finished Lamb and moved on to another Christopher Moore), and my laptop battery is low, so I pulled out the knitting. The knitting in question is the perpetually f***ed-up Shetland Tea Shawl from Gathering of Lace. It has now become traditional for me to pull out, scowl at the f***ed-uptedness-of for a few hours, and then put it away in favour of something less f***ed up.

I unf***ed-up it in about a half hour. Now I’m afraid to start knitting in my slighly inebriated state lest I ref***-up it. (Re-f*** it up? Not sure of the appropriate hyphenate there.)

I told this story to the Fiber Event crew (see above), because I was astonished and in awe of that level of drunk knitting. Did I mention that the shawl is in threadweight silk? They asked an important question which had completely eluded me. Was the shawl actually unf***ed up, or was it simply beer goggles? I asked, she answered.

The shawl is still somewhat f***ed up, but much less so than it used to be. It’s one of those things where, if you look closely, you can see the f***up, but it used to be that you’d glance at it and say, “Holy shit, what happened?” So I’m going with “moderately f***ed up but grateful that it’s even remotely unf***ed up,” and blithely knitting ahead.

Knitters everywhere, rejoice! (and apologize to my sister for my bogarting of her content when I didn’t have enough time to write my own.)

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• Share/Bookmark