I would like to take a moment this evening to pay tribute to The Harlot, who graced us with her presence at Stash in Berkeley.
First and foremost, she is gracious and funny. She speaks to the heart of all knitters. She'd say something and I'd look 'round the room and see everyone nodding. Yup. She gets us. She is us.
Second, she attracts interesting people. I got to meet Sara for the first time. Rachael, Janine, and Emily were there, too. But also Kathleen and Maya Maia, who don't have blogs and a host of people whose names I will not remember. (I'm bad that way, you know.)
It's dangerous to stand around in a yarn shop for a couple of hours with other knitters. Tempting. Especially stuck (as I was) by the Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb for, half an hour? Clapotis was calling my name. However, I did not buy yarn. (Please, pat me on the back for that.) Lordy, I could have broken the bank with what I might have bought. But, since Ellen (Stash's proprietress) was donating the profits from any Harlot books sold this evening to MSF, I felt I had Carte Blanche and picked up three extras to be signed for certain key (blogless) people.
Made me happy just to be there.
Ellen seemed happy, too.
And then, I went home to make dinner. And a lovely dinner it was. Trout. Caught by me, Dad or Hikaru. All I can say is YUM!
***Added Later***
Yes, It's true (see comments). The Harlot fondled my crack silk haze cardigan. She called it the "knitter's handshake." Swoon.
