And so the craziness that is Rhinebeck happened for me again. I had the best time this year! Sunday was not nearly as crowded as I hear Saturday had been for which I am so grateful. Younger Daughter and I went up together, leaving at 7:15 a.m. and sipping our Dunkin’ Donuts hot tea.
(Speaking of which, I know making tea can be an art or it can be basic. But there’s something about my cup of hot water and tea bag from Dunkin’ Donuts that is better from any other hot-water-and-tea-bag-dispensing place I’ve come across. I wonder why that is?)
We saw the emerging oranges and yellows and scarlets scattered across the valleys and mountains of the Catskill regions, delighting in the fact it was cold enough to wear handknit accessories. We sang show tunes at the tops of our lungs, and tried to out-pun each other. (Spoiler alert: I raised a master punner.)
Then we arrived and crunched along the frosted grass and beheld all the happy faces waiting to get into the Knitter’s Disneyland. We scoped out the handknits, unabashedly staring and admiring and cooing and petting absolute strangers who were happy to return the favor. Some feats of handknitting were not to be believed in their absolute beauty. I’m not good at the stealth photo mode so there are no photos of strangers. But there are photos of stuff!
Sheep butts!
He’s a little horny. BWAH!
Madam posed beautifully.
Now this character was posed in a barn, wearing a scarf/shawl. I wanted so badly for it to be wearing a COWL.
Cows should wear cowls. Just sayin’.
And THIS character was posing with a beautifully knitted shawl. Just because she’s my progeny doesn’t mean I can’t be critical about her knitting skills: they far surpass my own. She had quite a few compliments and even had her picture taken for a local paper. (Yeah, I agree: it would have been nice to have gotten the actual name of the paper, but hey, we know what we look like.)
You can’t see it, but the shawl matches her eyes.
Do you see that white streak in the photo? That is a SNOWFLAKE. October 19 and it was snowing. My flabber, it was gasted.
Lookee what I had for lunch!
Mmmm, brisket.
What I don’t have a picture of (for many reasons, one of which is that I’m just not that fast-thinking or coordinated) is me meeting Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. The Harlot herself. I’ll let you ponder that for a minute. Yes, I actually met another member of knitting royalty that I admire so much for all she’s done to make knitting easier on the psyche and embrace the funny. It was a fairly empty hall first thing Sunday, and she just walked right by so I just said “Hello, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee.” She stopped, turned, probably thought dang, almost made it to the door and smiled. She held out her hand and said “Hi, I’m Stephanie.”
Thank the heavens and all the wool in the world I didn’t babble or gush. I told her my name, introduced my daughter, and admired her cowl. (Idiot that I am, do you think I admired the sweater that she had been working on up to the last minute and instagrammed and blogged and tweeted? No, of course not. Again, not the fastest-thinking knife on the tree.) Then she said she liked my shawl. Then we discussed trees and blending and the bark and I actually barked and she kindly didn’t run screaming away from me but laughed a “oh, ha-ha!” and then she was off.
I’m not kidding when I say I actually had to lean against the booth I was near for support until I stopped hyperventilating and Younger Daughter said I actually had tears in my eyes. I did. I love to meet people I truly admire not for celebrity status but for good and decent things they write or say or do. Last year I got to talk to Clara Parkes and was just as grateful to have that small moment. I also spent a good time talking with Sandy Wiseheart (and let me tell you, that is an apt last name for her) and I was all glowy and warm and feeling like I swallowed some sparkles. It just made a sweet weekend that much more sweet for me.
And now, today’s tag:
Tea and Sarcasm 