Best Quote I Heard All Day
"I never lecture, not because I am shy or a bad speaker, but simply because I detest the sort of people who go to lectures and don't want to meet them."
--H. L. Mencken

To paraphrase:
I never go to knitting classes simply because I detest the sort of people who go to those classes and don't want to meet them.

Luck of the Draw at AC
Thus it was, on yet another hideous, rainy Saturday, that I found myself perusing the Stitches East pamphlet with all the fabu class listings.

I won't be attending any of them. Not that they're totally uninteresting. I wouldn't mind taking one of Lucy Neatby's classes. But I have enough trouble sitting still for 3 to 6 hours in a class, let alone share that time with a passel of happy-dancing KnitDweebs. I should pay for this?

Will I miss some fantastic tip or creative concept? Possibly.

But I've done pretty well for myself throughout the years when I didn't have the books, the videos, the mailing lists, the websites, the trunk shows, the classes. I'm an independent learner. I'd rather sit in the living room with some music on the radio, cup of coffee, needles and yarn in hand, and teach myself something new and make my own mistakes.

I'll see you at the Market.

Knitter's Non-Review
Boring and banal. That's this issue. So what's the point of reviewing a publication that's ceased to have any redeeming value?

I pulled out an issue from 1995 this afternoon--articles on grafting, stitch gauge for borders by June Hiatt, circular knitting, intarsia in ribbing, the Tiny Diva's Reversible Cables (cripes, you'd think she would have played this one out but no--she's teaching it again at Stitches East). Designers like Jacqueline Jewett (whatever happened to her?), Priscilla G-R, Deborah Newton, Norah Gaughan. And this wasn't one of their better issues from that era.

That was when the magazine was worth every penny of its then $4.95 price. How these novices that Alexis is clearly pandering to will learn more than garter stitch is beyond me. Not from his magazine. He should be ashamed of himself.

But anyone who writes as he does has no shame.

Joy of Sox, Part Deux
I remember saying somewhere, maybe just to Loopy in an e-mail, that I didn't much see the point of those self-patterning sock yarns. Well, I take it back. I still say, if you want to do Fair Isle, do Fair Isle. That said, having finished my first pair of Opal socks, immediately claimed by daughter Jenn who camps a lot, I'm now on my second pair. It's the childish thrill of watching the colors change, like when Elly gave me that RH variegated to practice on when I was seven.

Opal's a bit on the lofty side. I had to go from #1s to #0s. But that's only because I knit so loosely you could cut the ribbon for the tunnel opening. Pattern says #5s, I begin swatching on #3s. I own a pair of #00s and #0000s.

I need stupid knitting projects right now. Taking oxycontin makes me goofy sometimes. There's an entire Rubbermaid bin filled with sock yarn of all flavors sitting in my closet, waiting for me to be as goofy as I wanna be.

Handy, handy. The raison d'etre for a stash.