Oh, and I forgot to mention that I finally gave the happy couple their wedding gift: the Sunday cable throw from Jo Sharp’s fourth book, Home. It took me well over a hundred hours to knit, and I used 36.5 balls of Jo Sharp 8-ply wool. I modified the pattern to make it a bit wider and added fringe to both ends to make it a little more “blanket-y”. It’s really pretty and warm. (Unbeknownst to me, it also perfectly matches the beige and red of their living room color scheme.) It’s about six feet long by four feet wide. Here’s a pic of my sister lounging under it along with a detail of the cabling up close:

Since I’m sure none of you have been able to sleep from the anticipation, I’m happy to be able to bring you the end of the Saga of Angora Man. You remember him, right? Well, our knitter finished his sweater fairly quickly and I was eager to get a look at it. It’s your basic men’s crew-neck sweater… just in extremely fluffy snow-white angora. We discovered a problem when we went to call him though – his number didn’t work! I guess that’s what non-refundable deposits are for, right? But wait, this story has a happy ending. A few weeks ago I was busy cutting some embroidery fabric for a customer when I noticed a familiar fuzziness in my peripheral vision. I looked up. It was him! “Hey!” I said. “It’s you, Angora Ma–” (Just caught myself there.) “And you’re wearing a new sweater! Gee, it’s sooo lovely!” And yes, folks, he was wearing a third white angora sweater. This one was also a women’s garment, as evidenced by the puffy sleeves and the panel of smocking on the front. “Your new sweater is ready!” I told him. “It’s really gorgeous!” We took him over and he immediately wanted to model it. I had to deal with other customers but evidently he was pestering the other manager for ages. Did it fit right? Did it hang correctly? It really didn’t seem to be hanging quite right, he thought. Losh had the unenviable task of trying to explain that this was simply because he’d been wearing ladies’ sweaters, and the new one was actually a men’s garment. In the end he was happy enough, though, and forked over the rest of the cash. And thus ends the strange, fluffy tale of Angora Man.

In other news, I’m in the latest issue of Creative Knitting! I met the original editor, Nicola, eighteen months ago at a Stitch & Bitch in the city. Earlier this year she read on Amy’s site about my career change. She e-mailed me and asked if I’d write the “Cable Knits” section for the next issue. (It’s just a little sidebar where a knitter talks about what they’re doing right now.) Anyway, I sent my copy off to her and pretty much forgot about it. Then in the past 24 hours I had two different customers at the store ask me if I was “the girl from Creative Knitting.” Yeah, that’s me! So I ran out at lunch to buy a copy. It’s really cheezy and kinda “gee-whiz!”, but apparently it was also pretty memorable, so I’m proud of it.

No, that’s not a euphemism. Katherine visited the shop Monday and took a picture of the wool section, and lo and behold, there’s one of the many, many signs I created! (Once it became known that I know my way around Illustrator, I got handed the task of designing all the sale signage.) That one is actually my favorite, because it just says: “Add to your stash. All knitting yarns 30% off.” For some reason those short imperative sentences really crack me up.

So I’ve had 48 hours to recuperate from my first Tapestry Craft sale experience… and I’m still a little wrecked. We ended up working til 3 a.m. Friday night setting things up, which meant I only had about three (crap) hours of sleep before heading back the next day. The old ladies were lined up six deep by the time the doors opened. It was a melee. It was a madhouse. It was like the footage they show on the news of women fighting each other at the annual Harrods sale. Surprisingly, I didn’t touch a cash register until the very end of the day. I spent every other second helping people in the wool section. We’d been worried that people wouldn’t buy much since it’s the end of the knitting season, but instead folks were walking out with hundreds of dollars worth of stuff. By lunchtime I realized that I needed real food (as opposed to the Diet Coke and Krispy Kremes I’d been subsisting on for the past 24 hours) so I headed next door to a coffeeshop. I ran into Helen and her boyfriend Clinton on the way so they joined me. That was nice. Thirty short minutes later I was back into the fray. We didn’t actually get the last customer out the door til nearly an hour after our official closing time. Even Albert the owner was amazed. (Apparently it was really weird to have a sale day that was full-on busy all day without any slow periods at all.) We ended up having our biggest sales total in shop history, which is pretty amazing. I just stood there dazed, looking at the knee-deep piles of wool on the floor and dreading the clean-up. Luckily everyone else was just as tired as me so we left it and went home. Since then I’ve pretty much been knitting, sleeping, and watching TV. Unfortunately, this is going to be the pattern for the next, oh, three weeks. Gahhhh…

The class turned out to be a bit of a debacle, mostly because I seriously overestimated how much material we’d get through. I figured that since I’ve taught people to knit before individually, teaching a half a dozen wouldn’t be that hard. I was so wrong. Each person could only manage to follow the pattern for about thirty seconds before yelling for help. And it wasn’t that the pattern was hard, it’s just that they needed to be shown every little thing. Me, I’m a book learner, so that’s why I spent hours writing down explicit notes on everything for them. (Mental note: Don’t bother next time.) By the end I was apologizing all over the place because I felt terrible that we’d only accomplished so little. Most of them seemed happy though, and a few actually managed to “get” it before they left. I guess it was a good learning experience for me, huh? Next time I need to remember not to be so ambitious.

So what did I do afterwards? I came home and flopped on the couch, hoping to clear off some TiVo and do some knitting. Two hours later, just as I’d started The Princess Diaries, the f**king television exploded. Yes, you read that right; our TV just exploded. So now there’s no telly. This sucks.