Rachael

I just had the BEST class at Knit-One-One. Now, now that it’s over (the first of four, but the only one I was scared about), I can admit that I’ve been SO FREAKED OUT. I haven’t taught anyone anything knitted-related in so long that I’d begun to doubt myself, and when I was driving to the class, I felt like I was on a blind-date with six knitters. Six knitters who might stab me with sharp little pointy needles, who might know everything there is to know about socks and I should just go sit outside in the dirt while they knit.

It’s always nerve-wracking to meet new people, but knitters? The people, the subgroup, that I love most? Ask Lala — I’d been wound-up about it for two days. Serious nerves, no lie.

But it was awesome. Good food, laughs, great atmosphere, good people. And Stephen, who came just to knit, because he’s in the process of designing an awesome sock and needs NO help from me, was a DOLL, just as I knew he’d be. And Jennifer was great, as were the other Blogless Ones, and I made it out alive, and I’m so glad I’m doing it, because these people are tres cool. I had a wonderful time. And even though Ms. Janie Sparkles made a break for it when the front door was opened, she was found, safe and sound. Thank god. If losing your dog at a knitting class isn’t enough to put you off knitting for life, I don’t know what is. I am glad the class was not responsible for that.

And now I will play the ukulele. I am learning this song, from the Jerk. Oh, how I love this song.

Oh, my gosh, Lala will kill me if I don’t share this story with you. She keeps saying "You haven’t blogged that yet! Blog it!"

The other day, I went out for a run with my dog, Clara. We drove to Alameda, and my plan was to run from the dog park down to the beach and along the shore, then come back and let the dog run off-leash to get rid of the rest of her energy. But while I was driving in that direction, the sky got dark. And then darker.

Then it started to rain. I thought, I’m hardcore. I can handle this. I pulled into the parking lot and stared into the almost-empty dog park. It started to POUR.

Then, as I was about to get out of the car, it started to hail. Hard. I got out my phone and started texting a complaint to Lala. "It’s hailing. I don’t want to go. Wahhh."

But before I hit send, something happened. I heard a noise that wasn’t even noise — it was louder than anything I’d ever heard, but it didn’t feel like my definition of Loud. It just was. There was light, but it wasn’t like light. I felt weird and completely stuck. While it was happening, I couldn’t move, and it wasn’t fear, I just couldn’t make my muscles work.

The parking lot I was sitting in was HIT BY LIGHTNING! The same parking lot I would have been running through if I hadn’t been sending my whiny text to Lala.

I thought my car had been hit, at first. Or that I had. I knew exactly what it was, even though it didn’t sound or look like any lighting I’d ever heard or seen. I didn’t know if I’d been hit. Was I burned and just didn’t know it yet? I hadn’t breathed yet, and I remember making the conscious decision to take a breath and see if it hurt. I did, and it didn’t.

Whew.

I turned around to look at Clara, and we reacted to each other in the same way. We looked at each other blankly, calmly, and then both of us started to shake uncontrollably. I scrambled through the station wagon into the back seat. I have a dog-fence blocking the back of the station-wagon from the back seat. I stuck my arms through the fence and clutched her and she leaned back into my arms and we both stared out the back window, petrified.

In a few seconds, I heard shouts. The three men in the dog park had grabbed their dogs that had originally bolted in fear and were running for their cars. They must have been even more scared than I was — they were out in the open. All the lights in the park and its outbuilding were suddenly on and strangest of all, all the park sprinklers started shooting water straight up into the air, into the pouring rain. Maybe they were on an electric timer?

I started to grab the umbrella — the UMBRELLA — in the car to get out and then I realized that was probably pretty stupid, so I just jittered myself out the back passenger-side door and babbled in their direction.

I knew one of the men in the park, even though he doesn’t know me. He’s a local crazy* that I spoke to on a regular basis when I worked police dispatch, and he started yelling at me and the other two guys: "Who has a cell phone? Don’t use your cell! Don’t touch it! The lightning affects the transformers, and they’ll hear us! It’s just the government! Don’t run, and don’t use any phones!"

The other two guys babbled with me as we all just stood there, trying to figure out what the hell we should do, which was, basically, nothing. We just got back in our cars and drove away. What else SHOULD we have done? No one was hurt, we were just FREAKED OUT.

And dude, I SO didn’t run. Nope. That was god’s way of saying go home and make pumpkin muffins, yams with chipotle dip, spinach/kale turnovers, and tomato soup. Wow. I just realized I did that the same day. I was nesting a bit, wasn’t I? Interesting. I was kind of manic about the cooking, actually. Ask Lala. I was throwing ingredients into the air and catching them wildly (and badly — don’t EVER substitute steel-cut oatmeal for Quaker oatmeal — dude, it’s like throwing uncooked rice into finished muffins. I had to throw out the whole batch).

There. That is my lightning story. I would like it to be the closest I ever get to lightning in my life.

*The same local guy, we’ll call him Steve, was once behind me in the 7-Eleven line. I gave the checker a twenty, he put it in the till, and then gave me change on a ten. We started to argue about it, but then Steve stepped forward and boomed, "The lady GAVE you a TWENTY, give her CHANGE!" The checker did indeed give me the correct change. So I have fond feelings toward Steve.

Last call! A couple of slots remain in my class that starts this Monday night in Emeryville at the fabulous Knit-One-One. We’ll be learning how to knit lacy socks on two circulars on the yarn/needle size that you like. Plus, we’ll just be goofing around knitting and laughing, so it should be fun times.

If you’re coming to knit with us, do this: Choose the yarn you want for your socks (have about 100 grams to be safe). Knit up a couple of small swatches on different size needles, just stockinette, and decide what fabric you like. Bring two 12 inch needles in that size along with the yarn to class, and we’ll be on our merry, lacy way.

At the very least, go have a peek at the blog post about the class — I look a little silly, but Harriet is looking fine, no?

Hey! I’m in Curve magazine! Go get it! I wrote an article about me’n’Lala visiting Venice for their travel issue, now on stands. Borders carries it, I know, as do most Barnes and Nobles, and any independent bookstore that carries Out and Advocate will have it, too. It’s a lesbian magazine, you should know. Just in case your husband wonders why it’s in your bedside reading, you can have something planned. I’m on pages 40-41. Woot!

I was a dork at Stitches, as usual. I had a BLAST. I got there around 1pm, and just wandered around, moving between wildly excited and completely overwhelmed. It’s kind of being a kid again at Disneyland, isn’t it? I want! I want everything, and look at this, and what about that, and that’s my favorite thing EVER, and I’M TIRED I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE and oooooh, pretty, I want that!

Luckily, I ran into readers who were awesome, and said hello, and made me step off my merino-high every once in a while. I only took a couple of pictures, and none turned out but this one, but it’s great:

That’s Bonnie and Bonnie. (By the way, when you organize yourselves like this in the wild, I really appreciate it.) These two made me laugh my ass off and regain some human composure again, so I really appreciate them.

I also really appreciate Cindy and Jeni and Emily and Nancy and her partner Adriana, with whom I hung out after the whole deal.

However. There was one highly embarrassing moment I’ll tell you about.

Nancy and Adriana were staying there in the hotel, and we’d been up to their room to drop off some bags (ahem) before dinner. We went back down in the elevator and exited into the lobby. It was swank. Nancy said, "Look at all this high-tech stuff! Virtual concierge!"

I looked over and saw that there was indeed a concierge desk, and behind it, up on the wall, was a huge TV screen with a woman’s face on it, who appeared to be looking into the room.

A computer-concierge! I thought that was just too nifty, so I literally ran up to the desk and smiled and waved at the computer image. It smiled and waved back! I said, "Hello!"

It said, "Hello. Can I help you?"

I turned around and said to my compatriots, "Look! She looks so real!"

"Can I help you?"

I goofed a little more, hoping to get the computer to echo my motions, like it had with the waving.

"Um, is there something I can do for you?"

It hit me suddenly, the ugly truth. "You’re real, aren’t you?"

"Yes, I’m real. What can I do for you?"

"Gahggh hrm abbat SEEYOULATERSORRY!"

And I ran away. She was real, and there had been a camera somewhere pointed at ME, so she could see ME, and I could see HER, and it wasn’t fancy-hi-tech computer-concierging, it was just a remote employee, and wasn’t that just like me? I wonder how many times that’s happened to her? I think it would be funny all the time, if I were her.

So. Stitches was great, and hello to all you sweeties who said hello, and then I went down south to the little mama’s house for the Oscars on Sunday night (Al Gore, you’ve never been more adorable) and had a great time with my sister Christy on the drive there and back, and this morning I woke up to find this in the backyard*:

How is THAT for a best-case scenario? It fell OVER the fence, but didn’t damage it, and the tree is just resting in our backyard. Must talk to the neighbors about that today, I suppose….

* In actuality, I didn’t wake to find that. I woke, opened the curtain to the window that looks out to the backyard, then decided it was stuffy, so opened the window itself, then went and let the dogs out onto this same porch, then let them back in. Then Lala called and said, "Look in the backyard," and I finally saw what had happened. I am not observant at all before I have caffeine.

I get to go! I wasn’t going to be able to go to Stitches West because of my work schedule, but a coworker is paying me back some time, and I’m leaving work at noon today, and I can be there by 1pm. I’m going to help out a bit in the spinning guild booth, and then wander! O joy! The party of my people!

Nowadays it’s not even about the yarn, not (that much) about the fiber — it’s about seeing friends and bloggers and friend-bloggers and hanging out.

I will remember to bring my camera, as it’s already in my spinning bag. However, I can only hope that I remember to TAKE pictures.

If you see me, say hi!

How did I miss this? Crochet/knit snark, mockumentary style. You MUST see it.