reality doesn't stand a chance

This is the month of joyous overload in my calendar.

A week (or nearly same) in the San Juan Islands with other writers and amazing knitters, and the most intense creative cooker that the likes of Cat Bordhi can devise…

Followed by 4 days of Madrona, where you can't take 3 steps without running into someone you know, or someone you wish you were famous enough to know, or someone wearing something that you simply must knit, or someone teaching something fabulous that you simply must knit, or someone selling something that you simply must have and then simply must cast on tonight over that glass of wine in the bar with the horse statue with the lamp coming out of it…

(Okay, yarn fumes don't even account for that last bit. The bar really does have a life-size horse statue with a lamp coming out of its head. KarenJo told a group of us that there were plans afoot on Ravelry to knit the valiant steed his own flowery victory wreath, but none presented itself during our stay.) (Perhaps next year.)

And now I'm in the throes of the week from h*ll: Churchmouse Mailer production time (with lots of chasing people down on the phone to find out when they can teach); Stitches packing time (with all the attendant anxiety about forgetting things, typos in handouts, samples I still haven't knit since last time…).

Thank the Buddha that it's only a week, though: we leave on Tuesday, bright and early, for California and points between.… Himself and I get a road trip, in the Knit-O-Wagon™! (Hell, we can't really take the Jetta stationwagon, because Susanna's box is too &@&%^% big!) (Just kidding. I'm packing twice as much as Susanna.… because I CAN!) (I love not flying to Stitches.)

So, will someone saner than I please tell me WHY OH WHY I had to fall in love with this today?
There I am, minding my own business, enjoying a brief perusal of a beautiful kniting book over breakfast…

[Don't kid yourself, girlie: you don't open a fine example of knitter's pron at the breakfast table without knowing full well what you're getting into.]

Like I said: there I am, eating my oatmeal, minding my own knitterly business, when *WHAM*: slapped straight between the eyes with this beauty.

Oy. Janine, Patron Saint of Fair Isle, can you save me?

Photos of MadronaPr0n tomorrow, my lovelies. Have to go have a little lie down with my Shetland stash now.