So this afternoon, I posted pictures of a shawl. (Did you see the shawl?) It was, to be frank, sopping wet and pinned out on the living room floor.
I went out to register to vote (because I am virtupus, and because I’d like to be able to rant and rail against the government for the next four years, and I feel obligated to try a little first), was successful, and realized (with a bit of help from my favorite bad-idea cohort) that in fact a hairdryer, judiciously applied, would speed the blocking up. A lot. Enough, in fact, to take my shawl to hear the Yarn Harlot.
(I don’t think anybody saw her; the entire room was knitting. I’m shocked, I tell you. The shawl-in-progress down the row from us was gorgeous.)
Great idea. Not only did I convince my housemate (and company) that I’m even weirder than they thought I was, I got to take a genuinely spectacular (seriously, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever knit) finished object to the one place it was most likely to get great reactions.
My favorite was the “What yarn is that?” It’s handspun. I spun that. And then I made this awesome thing out of it.
(There was oohing and aaahing from complete strangers. It was fantastic. I did not wait around in line to get a picture of the Harlot with it. I need to take a picture of it that isn’t blurry, though, so I can show the internet.)
She’s entertaining, and she’s never going to look at a room full of people knitting and think they’re not paying attention to her. Also, she has some incredibly smart things to say about knitting, and craft, and being a real writer. She’s not too short. I’m really glad I took my shawl to hear her talk.