Man, the news that Sock Summit is cancelled is a total bummer. I cannot tell you how much I’d been looking forward to handing over the toddler to her father and assorted grandparents so I could spend three glorious days sleeping, knitting and blowing the remains of my 401(k) on sock yarn.
I’m serious. Sock Summit 2014 has acted as my beacon, my rock, my finish line. There have been times when the house was a mess and the baby was stuck on the “car alarm” setting that I’d make it through by telling myself to just hang in there, because in 20 months, I’d get to shoot up to Portland and see my friends.
My friends have tossed out a few alternate ideas: Taos, Rhinebeck, Stitches West. Maybe just a weekend in a central city where we take over an anonymous Holiday Inn Express and go on a yarn crawl. These are all excellent ideas and I have zero doubt that we will get something together. But I admit it, I’m bummed that the summit is dead. I will always be a sock knitter at heart and I am sad that this convergence of like minded freaks won’t happen again in this permeation.