Getting to yarn, finally and with all due insanity

Visiting a new local yarn store is always like the first time you work out at a new gym. There's no way to know the rules, who is cool with eye contact, and it is always either way too hot or way too cold. Also there is that unshakable feeling that when you leave everyone there will bust out laughing because you have absolutely no chops and oh my gosh how did that loser even find the place.

This irrational fear has only been confirmed in one non-Indiana LYS and zero gyms, but that hasn't stopped me from completely over analyzing the following question, posed to me during a recent first visit:


"What do you knit?"


And this was the first thing the shop manager asked me. Not how long I've been knitting, not what my current projects might be, not even what I was looking for. Is it a nice way of asking all of those sensitive questions? Like, if I said "scarves," she could assume I was a beginner in need of lots of attention and if I said "lace sweaters that I design myself," she would ask me to teach a class? Or is she just addicted to socks like all those cool kids I hear about and assumes that everyone kind of finds their niche? Was she trying to determine how much money I would probably spend? Does a sock-knitter spend less overall than a sweater-knitter?


Of course I was a nervous wreck to begin with, so I just spat out, "Uhhhhh texture... different things with texture," and didn't explain it very well. So that's my next post. A manifesto of all the reasons why texture work is better than color work. Because maybe some LYS employees in Greater Indianapolis will eventually find this blog and not think I am so stupid I should be euthanized.