I came home from Sock Summit with a lot of new yarn, tons of memories, a collection of tips and techniques — and a cold. Today’s three beautiful things may reflect that last bit the most:

1. A frozen coconut popsicle that numbs a sore throat.

2. Puffs Plus tissues with aloe that don’t rub your nose raw.

3. A sweet partner who goes out at midnight to buy you cold meds and ice cream when you have neither in the house.

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.