Ahh, knitting conferences.
I learn something every time I go. In fact, the profound learning happens before I even get to the knitting conference.
Last year I learned that pigs wander the roads in Saskatchewan. Stopping to herd the pigs will make you 15 minutes late for dinner. You will get to sit behind the Yarn Harlot, and you will be so nervous you can hardly talk, never mind look at her.
This year, the classes I am taking came with homework. I am taking 2 classes, a class on technique and a class on knitting for your figure. And at the ripe old age of 31, my mother was given another opportunity to nag me about whether or not my homework was done. I couldn’t make her understand, I wasn’t postponing knitting the swatches for the other class, no I didn’t like the idea of me in my underwear being homework. Even at my age, there are some discussions you still don’t want to have with your mother.
Imagine this (but not vividly please, this is a family show). To complete my homework for a knitting class, I have to strip down to my underpinnings and I have to get my darling husband to take my picture (eh, he was really good with this part actually). Then, if that is not bad enough, I must blow it up. It’s hard to picture it getting worse than this but. . . I must, using a black marker, trace around my silhouette, carefully noting all the parts that go out, when they should go in, and all the parts that are in, that should be out. And then it gets better, I should make multiple copies (how? I’d jump out of a plane before I would use the work photocopier). Finally, I get to put my name on my silhouette.
The instructions seem to be quite firm. I do not have the option of choosing, oh, I don’t know, Angelina Jolie’s body, no I must use. . . mine. Lumps, bumps and all.
I am deeply concerned I have paid a sum of money to discover that the very best thing I can knit for my figure is a burlap bag. In a nice, slimming black.
This year, I learned a lot more broccoli and a lot fewer baked goods before the next knitting conference.