I was recently in line at Kinko's. A friendly-looking guy walked past, did a double-take at me, stopped, and asked, "Excuse me, are you at all related to the Ryans?"
"No, I'm not," answered I.
"It's amazing," he replied, "because you look just like this friend of mine's... mother." (Pause and italics mine.)
No sir, not his friend, but his friend's mother. As in the one to say, "You really should start thinking about a 401(k)" or ask, "You look tired, dear, are you taking your vitamins?"
I tell you, my first "ma'am" had nothing on this.
In other news, while the rest of the world was at Rhinebeck fondling yarn and petting sheep, I was busy moving the Knitter's Review International Inc. North American Headquarters. This was one of many things that got pushed onto the back burner while I was finishing the book, but this week the denial hit me square in the face - this move must happen by November 1st.
Soon I'll occupy the entire downstairs of the building (pictured at left), with my old Clara's Window storefront on one side (soon to be the Knitter's Review International Inc. Corporate Office) and the old gallery/post office on the other side (soon to be the Knitter's Review International Inc. Order Fulfillment Center). The best news about all of this is that I'll finally be able to get true high-speed Internet access.
Would that be from the phone company, you ask? Or the cable company? Why no. Both of those fine entities have comfortably and openly declared that they will never - ever - provide high-speed Internet access to my town. Seriously. So an enterprising guy in town said screw this and got a T-1 line, which he split into a wireless network and is offering to people within its reach, which the new office is. So that's the good news.
When not moving KR, I've been trying to finish up my New Beginnings Project before this year's Knitter's Review Retreat. The concept behind the New Beginnings project was that everybody cast-on new projects together that would in some way challenge them, and those who wished could have other people at the retreat knit a stitch in their cast-on row for good luck. I found the exercise far more moving and meaningful than I'd anticipated.
My project is a rectangular shawl whose name escapes me at the moment, but it's from Interweave Knits magazine a while back. The pattern originally called for laceweight Polwarth from Rovings in Canada, but none of the Retreat vendors had lace. So I got some gorgeous silk/merino from my friend Jen and have been thoroughly enjoying it. The pattern will really show with blocking.
Here in Maine fall is amost completely done, leaving behind a grey leafless landscape that ranges from gorgeous to bleak depending on my mood.
The first few years after I moved east, every day was an exciting adventure that was completely different from life back in San Francisco. I embraced it. I took walks in the snow, I baked wonderful-smelling things, I decorated the house with twinkly bright lights and smelly candles and felt cozy and warm and grounded and very much New Englandy.
Well, I've been here eight years and have made the transition to Grumpy Mainer. Winter is no longer a novel source of thrill and adventure, it's an obstacle to be overcome.
Casey, on the other hand, has no qualms about the arrival of winter as long as he can do his Miraculous Half Cat Half Blanket routine.