On this final morning of Knitter's Connection, I find myself unable to sleep in. Which, on any other Saturday morning, might have driven me crazy. But not today.
Today is the last day of Knitter's Connection, a wonderful convention that dovetails on one of TNNA's semi-annual conventions. A delightful mix of well-known teachers and authors hold classes on a a wide variety of techniques, patterns, and everything else related to knitting. There was even a spinning wheel related course this year. In the evenings, there's usually events, which are absolutely lovely. Myrna Stahman was there, and she complemented me on my shawl! Oh raptures!
This year, the events featured Franklin Habit, author of It Itches. I cannot rave enough about how delightful and entertaining he is in person. The first evening, he gave a talk about the history of the knitting pattern. Sometimes I wish I had a more perfect memory, so I could relate to you his humor line by line. He showed us this historical pattern, which was nothing but text with tiny margins cramped on a 8.5 x 11 pages.
"That was just page 1," he said, implying more. Somewhere in the bottom right hand corner of that terrible first page, was row 300. Franklin went on to point out that there was an error on row 300 which ruined the rest of the shawl, just ask him how he knows. Afterwards, he lamented that it was a lot of yarn to throw away in the garbage. The whole talk was like that, delightfully informative and peppered with humor. His description of the vagueness of historical patterns reminded me of Vogue. It was as though a light bulb had gone off over my head, and I finally understood why Vogue's patterns were so terribly vague. They must have come from the tradition of historical patterns, for how else could they mangle modern knitting patterns?
Then there's the market, which always fills me with giddy delight. Every year, I tell myself that I will walk through the whole market to look at every booth before I buy anything. Every year, I never make it all the way through. While the economic downturn appears to have cut down on the number of vendors staying, the selection is still dizzying in its array. People are selling spinning wheels this year! Oh, if I were a trophy wife! Perhaps then I could afford that gorgeous, walnut-stained, double-treadle Kromsky wheel. Alas, I think I may content myself with another spindle.
But the market sings its siren song, and I must go...
