Sneak Peek

While I was cleaning up yesterday (I'm about half done) I ran across the bag of freebies I picked up at TNNA. When I wasn't acting dumb in front of respected industry figures, I was prowling the show floor admiring products slated to hit the shelves of your local retailer in the fall.

Most of the time if you're not a shop owner looking to place an order, all you get to do is look. Sometimes, if you're cute or famous enough, or if you're willing to flash your boobies, you can get free goodies. It's like Mardi Gras in New Orleans, only with yarn instead of beads.

Since you and I are close, personal friends I think it's only fair to give you a sneak peek at one of the most exciting things that accidentally fell into my bag when Jess and Casey were busy playing Twister with Cat Bordhi and Pam Allen. Just don't tell anybody, okay?



I tried to use it, but I guess it's just a demonstration dummy. However, I plan to pre-order one the day the list opens.

If you want to see some of the other stuff I got, let me know.

I Can Haz Ravoolree?

Cartoon lovers will, of course, recognize this as an homage to Peter Steiner's brilliant 1993 drawing from The New Yorker.

A Queen with a Full House

I was jolted out of a sound sleep last night by the sound of the key in the front door. There are only two copies of that key around.

There was a groan as the door opened. Sounds of scampering and dragging, then a loud bang and a crash followed by a familiar voice letting forth a stream of groggy but pointed invective.

"Sorry, Dolores," said Harry. "One of the guys lost his grip on the microphone stand."

I considered getting out of bed to say welcome home.

"If that stand is broken," grunted Dolores, "I'm holding you responsible for the damages. And if this leaves a scar, I'm going hold you under water until you felt."

"I'll get you an ice pack," said Harry. "Hey Stan, go get some paper towels and try to get the blood out of the rug, okay?"

I decided to stay in bed.

This was the scene this morning.



Half of me wants to hear how the tour went. The other half wants to pack a suitcase and move out before they wake up.

Baby Knitting

I finished the collar on the Debbie Bliss baby kimono. I finagled with the needles a bit to tease out the points on the ends. I think it adds to the "They call me Shanghai Lily" appeal of the garment. All I have to do now is sew in the sleeves and I can start embroidering. Yum.



Ravelry

I'm so impressed. They really are doing a splendid job of creating a Web space that meets the needs (and wants) of knitters. Even in beta form, it's easy to use and the bugs I've encountered have been minor. I got a warm welcome from the Dolores Devotees group and have spent some time loading in projects.

My favorite feature so far? The ability to see what others have done with particular patterns and yarns. Therein, for me, lies the potential for hours (hours, hell–days) of lost time. Some of the forums are interesting, too, but I can promise you this blog will still be the place I mouth off the most.

If you want to say hey, my user name is franklin. I considered calling myself StitchStallionChicago, but it seemed potentially misleading. I don't own a horse.

Her Reputation Precedes Me

Now then, where were we?

About three weeks ago, I started noticing occasional visits to The Panopticon via Ravelry. If you knit, and you're reading this, you probably know about Ravelry. If you don't, here's a quick briefing:

1. These two nice people decided it would cool, and perhaps profitable, to launch a Web space for knitters that would allow them to create profiles (like MySpace), catalog their stuff (like Librarything), and interact with other people (like the Knitty boards, et al.).
   
   
2. The two nice people wanted a couple hundred beta testers to play with the shiny new (if still incomplete) toy so that they could make it run properly before asking the general knitting public to step inside.
   
   
3. Knitters beat a path to their homepage so quickly, and in such numbers, that it tore a gash in the fabric of the universe and temporarily reversed the flow of the Mississippi, the Ganges, the Nile, and the Rio de la Plata.
   

At present, "Where are you on the Ravelry waiting list?" is a question as much on the lips of the knitting community as "Did you finish yet?" was among Harry Potter fans last week.

Those who have been let past the velvet ropes are known to be enjoying themselves heartily on the dance floor. Occasional squeals and giggles heard through the door suggest a level of orgiastic delight akin to the parties thrown in Rome just before it fell. Those of us still waiting on the sidewalk are doing our best to be patient. Fortunately, we brought our knitting.

The proprietors are wisely employing a strict policy of only inviting new users according to their places on the waiting list. As one commenter over on Stephanie's blog said, "If they made you wait, we know there are no exceptions."

As of today, I'm 11,565 [edited. oops. originally published with wrong number] on the list. In front of me are 4,107 people. Behind me are 10, 198 people. Ten thousand one hundred ninety eight. The number keeps rising; even as those ahead of me have been allowed in, the total percentage of admitted applicants has held steady at about 33%.

I will admit I've been damned curious about what's happening in there, particularly since it's started sending folks over here. I'm reminded of an episode in middle school when one of the boys discovered one could hear conversations in the girls' toilets via a transom window facing the playground. He took to hanging about under the window, trying to find out if they were talking about him. (They were. They were saying, "Why is that little dickhead always trying to listen to us while we pee?")

Here's one thing I do know, and it makes me nervous as hell: Dolores is already in there. Naturally. She's already got her own fan club, the Dolores Devotees, complete with their own badge and banner.



Madam is over the moon. I can't get her away from the computer, and every time I come into the room she closes the browser and pretends to be deeply engrossed in a spreadsheet.

Should I be nervous?