Contoocook New Hamster. Gas up the car. Caffeinate the driver. Recaffeinate the driver. Set the autopilot for true North.
Wait. There IS no autopilot. Okay. Just plug Kearsarge Avenue into the GPS. One pee stop in Hooksett, two tolls, take a right, green field, park, swat the flies, walk, and there you are.
There is always something new under the sun. You can often find it at a good fiberfest.
A sampler of what overcame camnesia:
Heidi, caught walking the fairgrounds, trying to act nonchalant. We (and you) would initially count four fleeces casually transported. There were SIX. Two were rotated behind her back. This unleashed Lynn's passion for Jacob. We raced back to the Jacob booth.
Lynn fell in love with a lamb named Smidgen. The Kisakanari/Earth Haven Farm vendors had a skirting table set up in their booth. Every fleece was turned out and examined with the customer. Wow. And every fleece was beautiful. The ewe who gave birth to Smidgen is named Morsel. Of course. Please note the non-sentient look in Lynn's eyes when in direct contact with fleece. I think that explains the fact that she brought home 4.5 fleeces that day. (Yes, I am guilty of owning the other 0.5. But she suggested it first.)
I love being semi-fibercrazed. Although in the crazy days, I loved that too. I was quite restrained this year, based on historical averages. LongRidge Farms, CVM 80%/silk 20%, sportweight yarn in naturally dyed colorway Wild Grape. Naturally dyed, windspun yarn from Hope Spinnery in Maine, enough for a pair of colorwork mittens (indigo, cream, brown). Silk bricks from Robin Russo.
Nancy Benda, the Spinning Bunny, is calling it quits after this year. I am sad. Lynn and I delved deeply into her mixes of merinos, cormos, silks, and angora rovings. The swatch she had hung up with the bags was irresistible.
We sat on a stone wall, and watched a sweater approach. "Is that Cobblestone?" "I don't think so, Cobblestone is all one color. Can you see if the yoke is garter stitch?" As the sweater owner moved closer, we saw not only garter stitch, but a beautifully executed Cobblestone, with main body color picked up at the neck. The yoke was handdyed, handspun BFL by Zarzuela, knit by Zarzuela, and, yes, being worn by Zarzuela at that very moment. I must blog this.
We left the Festival at 4:40pm. Almost closed it down, but not quite. When I got home, I knit a row on Volt, and died by 9:30pm. Actually I died well before that, but refused to admit it. I became like a toddler, hyperstimulating to stay awake, and accomplishing nothing except annoying the people around me. Poor Mr. Etherknitter. He goes through this EVERY year.