I heard about the Knitter’s Fair in Kitchener a few months ago, and I told my mom. We set a date, to check it out – not really sure what to expect. Could be terrible, in which case we’d find something else to do. Could be awesome, in which case we will have stumbled upon a little piece of heaven. All told, the worst that could happen – we’ll have driven to Kitchener to be disappointed. Meh. I’ll take the risk.
The Boy kept referring to it as my Knitting Conference. “It’s not a conference, it’s a fair,” I would tell him. He asked things like, “Do you think you’ll be the youngest person there by like 30 years?” or “Do you think it will only be full of dirty hippies?” He’s all full of mockery when I’m not knitting for him. When I am, he’s all praise – “You do such a good job. That’s so nice. I love my sweater. When are you finishing my socks?” Brutal. Either way he was having no part of the Knitter’s Fair and went off to partake in his hobbies, golf, beer and fantasy hockey draft at home. That’s okay. His bad-i-tude wasn’t invited.
So off I go with Mom. We get there. We’re trying to figure out where we’re supposed to go when I spot them – knitters. We’ve found the right place, and at first glance it seems the Boy may have been right – hippies. They’re everywhere.
Undeterred we go inside. What do we find? Paradise. It’s over 70 vendors of straight-up knitting, which we knew. That’s what why we came after all. But neither of us had full appreciation for what that actually meant. Knitting and yarn stores from all over Ontario had moved what looked like their ENTIRE stores to Kitchener. They were all in one place. We were immediately overwhelmed and I knew instantly that all my Mom’s talk about how she has too much wool stashed all around the house, and all my thoughts about budgeting and not going overboard were going to go out the window. We were in heaven. And it was GLORIOUS!
We made our way around to every vendor. We fell in love with new hand-dyed yarns, sock yarn, and shawl yarn, scarf yarn and sweater yarn. We dug our hands into piles of it and debated back and forth as we tried to make decisions on which of the beauties we would take home. People asked us if we were enjoying the fair. Our response, “Absolutely, it’s our first time here.” That was received with the same response every time, “Oh! I remember my first time. It’s so overwhelming and my budget was blown within the first half-hour.” I hear you sister!
I bought some yarn for Christmas gifts, and of course a few things for me. I had cleaned out my knitting box the week before and insisted on finishing a few projects so the Boy wouldn’t be able to say “You bought more! You haven’t even finished what you’ve started!” Tricked you.
What I learned while at the Knitter’s fair was knitting is quickly becoming like reading for me. I love it, and I’m going to have stashes of yarn like stashes of books that I buy with full intention of using, (or reading) but don’t necessarily start it right away. It’s a traight my mother taught me. A traight the Boy shakes his head at in disbelief and mild frustration. But one that I love her for!
We’ve booked it in our calendars for next year, complete with notes like Bring Lunch ($18 for two pieces of pizza and two bottles of water is just obsured) and Start Early. And we made a decision. If the Boy and I find ourselve considering dates for any major event *wink* it can’t be the 2nd Saturday in September. I’m already booked for the Knitter’s Fair.