Blogging here from ground zero of Stitches Midwest.
I haven't posted in awhile? Pssht. Suck it up, yeh pansies. You know where to find me if you desperately need to know my opinion about something. Some poor woman on ravelry just got a piece of my mind when she asked me about CAD software for us regular-type, boots on the ground designers, or the lack thereof. I told her 1) knit visualizer for the charts, 2) good luck. All my designs are done the old fashioned way; getting a table of standard measurements, adding a set amount of ease, and asking various women around my workplace what they like in a sweater. Easy? No. Foolproof? Hell no. But it's the only game in town, so I'll play it.
Anyway, it's been a balls-to-the-wall show. The midwest really came out in full, norwegian-accented force this weekend, and I dare say that I'm proud to be from around these parts. They rocked us like a hurricane, poured some sugar on us, and gave us all sorts of hair metal type ballads. My feet are little, stumpy "ow" machines and all I want to do is curl up in my own bed with my pet Kyle to fetch me tea and prattle on about nerdy things until I fall asleep. But I'm seven times seven impressed with the venue. Imagine Austin Powers were Swedish and had a penchant for sticking a TV on every flat, vertical surface. If that man designed a hotel, it would look like this, though he wouldn't care enough about the environment to put a "natural, native wetland" in the front of it. It just looks like weeds and a wet ditch at this point, but they'll get the hang of it. I used to manage a 2 or 3 acre patch of prairie when I was a little one, so I know how it goes. If they don't have the balls to burn it all in spring, they'll get all sorts of European invader types and tree saplings. But they won't have the guts, so they'll probably use herbicides and migrant workers. For shame. Rambling? Again, I exhort you to suck it up, you were so desperate for my candid opinions, so now you're going to get them, stream-of-consciousness, notes-from-underground style.
Speaking of which, I had no idea that KT was a Russian major. That girl is chock goddamn full of surprises. She's lived, like, 3 or 4 lives in one, so I'm pretty envious. But I guess I still have enough life left to figure out who the crap I am, at least according to Andra, who insists that you don't nail things down until you're 30, and then when you're 40, it's all gravy. I imagine she says these things because she has no kids, which strengthens my resolve to pass on my genetic heritage in the form of memes rather than hateful spawn who will resent their nerdy names, go off to a mid-list, but expensive college and never talk to me again (just like me with my parents!).
So now I've done my responsible blogger diary-entry thing. Reviews are coming up soon, so if Kathy or Linda, or to some extent Steve take exception to this post, it'll be deleted. I love truth and all, but not to the point that I'm willing to take a dive in pay, thankyoukindly. So enjoy it while it lasts!
