I have been ruminating over Sock Summit for months.
When I first found out about it I really wanted to be a vendor. REALLY wanted to. I thought, what better way to get my name out than at the ultimate sock event? I kept trying to figure out how the hell I would get my gobs of yarn out to Portland (WHY did they have it in Portland, anyway?).
After months of thinking and wishing I had to admit it wasn't really practical right now. Maybe Sock Summit II will be in the middle, or on the Eastern side of the country. Something I could drive to.
Then I pondered whether I could go. The class list and teachers were nothing short of awe inspiring. I wanted to go SO bad. I coveted it. I wished. I talked to husband about it, but he asked me how much it would cost, I estimated. I thought it might be a pipe dream. Also it's the week before school starts. I didn't think he could get the time off.
I am certain that I said (more than once) "I can't go... can I? I really want to go." To which he replied "yeah, I don't see how" and "probably not".
Today we had the following conversation on chat:
Me: registration for sock summit is going on
it's so not fair
Him: I saw.
Me: I want to go SO bad
Him: What would it take?
Me: um, well someone to watch the kids
and, like $7-800 at least
and I would have needed to register half an hour ago
Him: When is it?
Me: August 6-9
Him: Did it fill that quick?
Me: it's half sold out now, yes, it did
are you seriously telling me I should go?
because, I've been SAYING I wanted to go for like 6 fucking months
Him: I know and I haven't been saying you shouldn't...
Me: GAH!
I have no idea what that means
Him: I'm checking to see if anyone is taking time off then...
You're going nuts at home...
Maybe you need a break.
NOW he tells me! PANIC!
Nothing like trying to figure out what classes you want to take of the classes that are still open, when you haven't prepared at all, or looked at the email with instructions on how to register because you didn't think you could go, while classes are literally disappearing while you look at the screens, and when you're already having a really bad and indecisive day when you can't even decide whether to have cereal or toast for breakfast (and are so wishy washy you have neither).
My friend Janet talked me through my panic attack, and helped me figure out that I could register for whatever I could get now, even if I wasn't sure if I could go. The most I'm out is $10 a class. So, I did.
I ended up getting a class with Amy Singer (Making the Next Monkey) and Meg Swansen (Elizabeth Zimmermann's Wearable Art Stockings), and also apparently registering twice for Spindle Spinning Basics (with Abby Franquemont, who's son and my daughter are having a fiber fair romance). Just when I was giving up on getting anything, the Amy Singer class reappeared (sweet!). Same with Abby Franquemont.
So, I guess I'm going to Sock Summit!
I think.
When I first found out about it I really wanted to be a vendor. REALLY wanted to. I thought, what better way to get my name out than at the ultimate sock event? I kept trying to figure out how the hell I would get my gobs of yarn out to Portland (WHY did they have it in Portland, anyway?).
After months of thinking and wishing I had to admit it wasn't really practical right now. Maybe Sock Summit II will be in the middle, or on the Eastern side of the country. Something I could drive to.
Then I pondered whether I could go. The class list and teachers were nothing short of awe inspiring. I wanted to go SO bad. I coveted it. I wished. I talked to husband about it, but he asked me how much it would cost, I estimated. I thought it might be a pipe dream. Also it's the week before school starts. I didn't think he could get the time off.
I am certain that I said (more than once) "I can't go... can I? I really want to go." To which he replied "yeah, I don't see how" and "probably not".
Today we had the following conversation on chat:
Me: registration for sock summit is going on
it's so not fair
Him: I saw.
Me: I want to go SO bad
Him: What would it take?
Me: um, well someone to watch the kids
and, like $7-800 at least
and I would have needed to register half an hour ago
Him: When is it?
Me: August 6-9
Him: Did it fill that quick?
Me: it's half sold out now, yes, it did
are you seriously telling me I should go?
because, I've been SAYING I wanted to go for like 6 fucking months
Him: I know and I haven't been saying you shouldn't...
Me: GAH!
I have no idea what that means
Him: I'm checking to see if anyone is taking time off then...
You're going nuts at home...
Maybe you need a break.
NOW he tells me! PANIC!
Nothing like trying to figure out what classes you want to take of the classes that are still open, when you haven't prepared at all, or looked at the email with instructions on how to register because you didn't think you could go, while classes are literally disappearing while you look at the screens, and when you're already having a really bad and indecisive day when you can't even decide whether to have cereal or toast for breakfast (and are so wishy washy you have neither).
My friend Janet talked me through my panic attack, and helped me figure out that I could register for whatever I could get now, even if I wasn't sure if I could go. The most I'm out is $10 a class. So, I did.
I ended up getting a class with Amy Singer (Making the Next Monkey) and Meg Swansen (Elizabeth Zimmermann's Wearable Art Stockings), and also apparently registering twice for Spindle Spinning Basics (with Abby Franquemont, who's son and my daughter are having a fiber fair romance). Just when I was giving up on getting anything, the Amy Singer class reappeared (sweet!). Same with Abby Franquemont.
So, I guess I'm going to Sock Summit!
I think.