Oh, boy. Where do I start?
Let’s start with the plain facts:
1. We had a GREAT time.
2. I slipped, fell, and bought a CRAPload of fiber on the way down. There was none left in my wake. None. People cried. They saw me sailing through ahead of them, buying ALL the fiber at the festival, and they pleaded with me to stop, to leave them just a little bit, an ounce of roving, an inch of combed top, but no, I took no prisoners and left no survivors. There are way too many metaphors in this paragraph. Oh, well.
3. Lala is a really, really good traveling companion.
4. I’m tired. I left work Friday morning after working all night and flew in to DC (boy, were my arms tired). I got home Tuesday afternoon, had an hour at home, and came back to work. A full, four-day weekend, extremely well-worth it. But I’m sleepy.
5. I am organized. Before we left, I’d made a little packet. I was semi-embarrassed to admit it, but I’d gathered together our plane e-ticket info, rental car reservations, directions from DC to our hotel in Maryland, from the hotel to the Sheep and Wolf Estival, from the hotel to Cari’s house, all put in order in a plastic sleeve as we’d need ’em. And the most amazing thing? The papers worked! On Monday, we woke up in the Maryland hotel, got in the car, and drove to Cari’s. In Brooklyn. We had no real map, just verbal directions from Google maps (which were really good, btw), and we had no earthly idea where we were going, only that it was north. We didn’t know which states we were going to go through (since we apparently both slept through all of Geography). And eventually, after driving a long time, we pulled up in front of Cari’s very door. Amazing. But I get ahead of myself.
Maryland Sheep and Wool:
The people! The wool! The smell of those fried little cakey things that I can never ever remember the name of, have to think "bear claw" before I finally get to…. no, still don’t have it…. Funnel cakes! That’s it! Oh, just think of the smell of those wafting through the air, mixed with the scent of lamb cooking up, which is both disturbing and reassuring at the same time. To me, anyway. I can imagine how it could be only disturbing to others.
Best parts (becase apparently I am still in List Mode):
1. The people. I can’t even begin to remember to list all the people I saw and hugged, so I won’t. But I got to meet a bunch of readers, every single of them sweet and charming and funny and lovely. And I got to love on a lot of old friends, which did this heart right.
2. The fiber. I had to buy a storage tub from Target to get it all home (thanks, Claudia, for the idea — I hadn’t the foggiest about what I was going to do before you mentioned that). A storage tub! A huge one! It took all my body weight and a whole roll of strapping tape to get it closed. Then at the airport when the guy told me he’d have to open it, I said, "No, it’ll explode if you do that!" That’s not the right answer, if you were wondering. I managed to convince him that it was just a slip of the tongue before he evacuated the terminal, but it was close.
3. The wheel. Oh, yeah, did I tell you I bought a wheel? I was out of CONTROL, people. I bought the one I wanted, the Ashford Joy, from Morgaine at Carolina Homespun, like I promised her years ago I would do if I ever started really spinning. Yes, I went to Maryland to buy a wheel from a woman who lives fifteen miles from me. Oh, well. It has its own cunning little backpack, and I adore it. I might sleep with it. You never know. (I carried it on the plane with me, and when the security guy saw it on the screen, he said, "Whoo-ooh-oow." I agree.)
4. The food. We ate nothing that wasn’t sugared or fried for three days. I am not exaggerating. It was like Disneyland, only you could get a coke for less than seven dollars. I feel like I have never run a damn day in my whole life.
Want some pictures? You’ve been very patient. I actually didn’t take very many. Lala has the good ones — I’ll ask her to either blog them or send them to me in the coming days. But from my camera:
This lil lady has dreadlocks.
Lala’s getting into it.
Okay, really into it.
Yep, there’s my baby. The wheel, not the Harlot, although she is babelicious (you know you were thinking it). All that fiber in those bags? Mine, also. But I lied through my damn teeth about it:
None of that is mine. I swear. Nope.
Also, speaking of lying to Stephanie, we pulled our very best prank on her — Lala made me buy some cotton candy and put it right on the very top of all my fiber. "Just LOOK at this pretty roving!" Stephanie ooohs and aaahs and says it looks like the color of cotton candy. "It IS cotton candy!" Fits of giggles as Lala and I fall about, thinking ourselves the cleverest twelve-year olds at the Festival, Stephanie undoubtedly thinking it was high time to run for the hills.
There is nothing sweeter than a shorn alpaca. It’s like when a three-year old cuts the whiskers off a cat, so wrong-looking and so funny.
Now that’s cute.
Saturday night was a rare treat — after an Indian dinner with Greta and Maggi (both of whom I’d been dying to catch up with and love on) and my fiber-genius friend Deanna and her cool friend Shelly, I got to meet Joan-in-Reno, one of my favorite readers. She was an absolute delight.
Me, Nathania, and Wendy. All I can say is, what happens in Maryland, stays in Maryland. But I believe there was gin involved.
I got fiber and a wheel — Lala got yarn and a hat. I know who scored more.
Tomorrow, some New York pics, as Maryland could not come to our girls, we brought Maryland to them.
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