Friday promised exciting new learning opportunities as I had a three-hour class from Joan Schrouder scheduled that promised to teach me different ways to shape knee socks. Many of you may remember back when we were kids (when we wore knee socks) that inevitably they ended up in a pool around your ankles and you were forever tugging them to keep them in place. That would be because they were manufactured socks made around some set measurements that would fit what some fashion designer deemed to be an average leg. If your leg differed from those measurements at all — by being too shapely or not shapely enough or being taller or shorter than specified — your socks were predestined to fall down. (more…)

I know… I know… The only excuse I had is that I wrote this post out in its entirety once and then some hotel-internet-related mishap caused it to disappear entirely. I could have cried. Instead I put the computer away and went to bed.

My introduction to Sock Summit began the way many of my days do — with me trying to sidle into a room, tardy and hoping not to inconvenience anyone. Of course, normally I’m not trying to do this as the room is lead in a loud chant, as my two dozen classmates in Stephen Houghton’s Hip Hems for Him and Her were when I opened the door. I did offer to do a cheer as I made my way to an empty chair around the horseshoe of tables familiar to any college student, but thankfully no one took me up on the offer. Sock Summit was on.

I was looking forward to this class for two reasons: One, Stephen hosts a knitting podcast (which I haven’t heard, although I did hear his appearance on Stash and Burn), which led me to hope that he was good at communicating with people. Two, the class description had promised to help decorate your sock top with manly or girly edging. I tried a picot hem last summer and had given up in frustration (For those who don’t follow fashion, picot is that feminine, v-shaped edging often found on little girls’ dresses.), so I was particularly interested to find that on the class’ itinerary. (more…)

Last time we met, I was whining about being unprepared for my trip out to Portland. Well, that remained true up to the very minute Rudi stuffed me in a cab at 3:30 in the morning, 15 minutes later than I was supposed to be walking out the door. Luckily, the woman who drove me to the train station was quick and we made it downtown with enough time for me to buy a ticket and to stop at Starbucks to get some tea and a snack before boarding my on-time train.

My flight was nondescript, perhaps because I slept through most of them. On the second flight that was a blessing because the woman sitting next to me was very chatty. Usually I associate that trait with Midwesterners, but she was from Ithaca. Between my napping and my headphones, though, I was subjected to her questions only for takeoff and landing.

I took MAX, Portland’s metro train system, to the Convention Center, where I found I was too early to register (but just in time to see the Yarn Harlot wrapping up final details). I also found I had no idea where my hotel was located, but the Convention Center folks had a map, and I tracked down the building and checked in. I opted to forgo the nap in favor of heading out (and a blackberry shake at Burgerville, Portland’s local fast food joint specializing in locally produced food). I went back and registered for the conference and then headed across the Willamette River to Portland’s downtown in search of lunch and books.

Portland is known for their vast fleet of lunch carts, which, I now know, can often be found parked in commuter lots. There were close to two dozen down by Powells, selling everything from German bratwurst to crepes to burritos. I ordered from a cart specializing in soup and sandwiches, and can attest that my vegetarian sandwich was quite tasty.

A couple hours of wandering Powells could leave anyone feeling a bit light-headed and confused. I left with only a couple of books and headed down Burnside to locate Voodoo Doughnuts, a local shop recommended on Ravelry. (It is possible that Carli brought us to this shop the last time we were in town. I only have a vague recollection of that night. I know it involved sushi and video games…) I did not buy any of the crazy doughnuts in the photo. I opted for an Oregon Cream Doughnut, the city’s official doughnut, which tastes an awful lot like a Boston Cream Doughnut, although I suppose I might not mention that to the bakers.

The day was sunny with pleasant temperatures, so I thought I’d walk back across the river over the Burnside Bridge (which, I suppose might be called something else). Having mistaken how far up the river I actually was from my hotel about halfway across the river, I realized I was a bit of a hike from “home.” (The building with the pointy towers is the convention center. The tall building behind it is next to my hotel, several blocks away.)

Oops!

So what did I do?

Why, I decided I ought to walk further afield in search of someplace to eat dinner. I couldn’t find what I was looking for, though, so I turned around about a mile up the road and began the trek back to the hotel.

After arriving back at the hotel, I decided that before I ventured back out in search of dinner, I ought to talk to BW, who is also in Portland, to make plans to meet up. I got chilly during our call, though, and climbed under the covers and was starting to doze by the end. Rudi’s goodnight call an hour or so later did not rouse me sufficiently, and it wasn’t until nearly 4 a.m. that I was awake enough to get up, take out the contacts, and get out of my pants.

This feels a bit like The Hobbit, except without the trolls. I walked a lot and I ate a lot. But, really, that was pretty much the day. That and the weird sleeping.

Up next: a belated TBTs and Sock Summit: Day 1. There’ll be actual knitting content!

You may have noticed I am not a good traveler. I’m a great visitor. I love being other places and seeing new sights and meeting new and old friends. But I’m terrible at the traveling part, probably because it relies on things I’m not especially good at — timeliness and organization.

I leave for Portland for Sock Summit in 25 hours. Yup, that’s right. I will have to walk out the door to catch a cab to Union Station at approximately 3:15 Wednesday morning. (Please let Amtrak be running on time for that train…) Who was it who thought a 6:15 a.m. flight from BWI was a good idea again?

Oh, right…

Just in case I don’t get a chance to post tomorrow during my pre-travel frenzy, I will have a laptop with me in Portland and will be sharing the fun of the conference and my Northwest visit as I go along. I have a new camera card, so posts might even include pictures.

But, in the meantime, if you imagine a rather frazzled knitter frantically throwing around balls of yarn (the class that requires five yarns would have to start before the Marketplace opens!), every dpn she’s ever owned, books, and her bathing suit while muttering under her breath about C-Tran buses to Vancouver, the Fareless Square, and Saturday market while repeatedly removing cats from a carry-on, you probably wouldn’t be far off the mark.

After you exclusively knit socks for a while, it’s shocking how fast worsted weight yarn on US 10 needles knits up.

So… you know how I like to knit socks? Well, come next month, I’m going to fly out to Portland, Oregon, to the first ever Sock Summit, a knitting extravaganza for those of us obsessed with creating clothing for feet.

When they opened up registration back at the end of May, the enthusiasm of knitters worldwide caused a system crash the likes of which hadn’t been seen since Iceland’s economy flat-lined. Thirty thousand simultaneous hits on a site, while flattering, do not do good things to its servers. The site crashed, took a long time to reboot, and then experienced some hiccups in showing what availability existed in classes.

I was one of the lucky knitters. I hopped back onto the site shortly after it came back up and, not finding any openings in the longer classes I was interested in, managed to enroll in four hour-long classes on Saturday and Sunday. I have two mini classes related to knitting socks from the toe up (I’m much more comfortable with knitting a sock from the top down), a lecture on Turkish colorwork (which includes the opportunity to try some techniques), and an hour devoted to ergonomically correct knitting (personally, I’m hoping some massage technique tips get worked into that one). None of those classes were originally on my radar, but I bet they’re going to be fascinating and that I will learn a lot.

I’d enrolled in those classes while at my folks’ and was on a plane heading home when the organizers realized that classes weren’t showing up properly on the schedule. When I got back to the Burrow to the message that additional classes had opened up, I was able to add a half-day class on knitting fancy cuffs on my socks — some to make my socks more girly and others to appeal to my more manly recipients. It was a class I’d been really interested in, so I was delighted. (And lucky. There were tons of knitters out there who got shut out altogether.)

I admit that while I reserved a hotel room back in April, long before registration opened, I had waited to book a flight until I knew that I had managed to secure a class or two. The price of flights had been high all spring, so I was sure that prices had to come down sooner or later.

I waited.

I compared travel discount sites and low-cost carriers.

To be frank, I started to stress.

I contemplated selling off my classes.

Earlier this week, the Sock Summit organizers wrote, saying they were going to hold a lottery to distribute the last returned slots. I decided this was do or die. If I got into an additional class, I’d suck it up and buy a plane ticket.

Tonight I got an email from one of the Sock Team 2 members, asking if I was still interested in the knee sock class.

I bought my plane ticket.

Pacific Northwest, watch out!