It was around 6:30, and the place was getting full. (According to an employee, people started arriving at 4:00!) A very helpful person pointed out empty chairs to those of us that were milling around, so I actually got to sit, unlike the 100 or so that came later and stood behind the chairs, between the stacks, and crammed up against the elevator doors. While Powell's learned their lesson after the last visit, they still seemed unprepared for the barrage of yarn- and needle-wielding fans.
Running out of chairs
The hour flew by, full of chatting, knitting, and admiring all of the hand-knits. There were men, women, teens, and older folks.
Filling up the aisles
In the "small world" department, I was sitting next to Shelly, who lives in another small town near me. And in the autograph line, the woman behind me (OMG, I can't remember her name) who had driven down from Tacoma with her friends, grew up about 10 miles from here.
Astonished Powell's employee introducing . . .
A very blurry Yarn Harlot
Stephanie was hilarious. It was definitely worth the drive and the wait to hear her speak. She talked about the Blue Moon bank fiasco, how to respond when someone says "wow, you have a lot of yarn," and ways to get recognition for knitters.
After the talk, my book-signing luck deserted me. My seat was on the opposite side of the room from the line, and I had to walk upstream through those that were leaving. I think I stood in line for an hour. On the upside, I witnessed the hilarity of the Polaroid incident, and saw Monica PDX of Comments fame (go read her account of the event. Fabulous reportage, there!).
I made cherry-shaped cedar sachets to give Stephanie, and totally flubbed it. I was holding my bag, my socks-in-progress, and my camera in my left hand, and the book and cherries in my right. I handed them to her still in the ziplock, so she couldn't tell what they were. Then I took the bag out of her hand (I hope "snatched" isn't a more accurate word) and held them up. She did say they were very good, and tucked them into The Sock. She signed my book, and I walked away! Yeah, despite that fact that everyone in sight was getting photographs taken, I had a socially inept panic attack and chickened out on asking the women behind me to take a picture. No matter that we had been chatting about a wide variety of subjects for the past 45 minutes, no matter that Stephanie was happily standing and posing with everyone else.
Sigh. Some days I'm 12, I tell ya. Nope, didn't take a picture of the cherries either.
1 comment:
Hi Lia! Very belated here - I'm slowly catching up on PDX Knit Blogger links and reading back a bit [g] - but wanted to thank you for linking to my report on Stephanie's visit. Thanks much! I was giggling in sympathy re talking to Stephanie, because the Polaroid Incident? I was so intent on re-gathering myself and exiting with some dignity that I totally missed it - and that was the person right behind me taking the pic! 12, indeed. *sigh*
Also, my sympathies on jacking up the house. I had to live through that to, albeit as a teenager. Up between Scappoose and Vernonia, that was. Lots of clay in our soil. Rain-filled excavations. It was like living in Venice for a year or so, with the foundation dug out. (Dad did most of it himself.) Courage, courage in surviving it. Just keep telling yourself that afterwards, your floors won't have interesting swoops and dips!
MonicaPDX (whew, figured out which Google sign-in worked!)
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