Here's knitbloggers and co-authors Kay Gardiner and Ann Shayne with the Mason-Dixon After Dark Nightie, and me and my beaded rib with beads sock (I'm camera shy). See? Kay and Ann smile exactly as shown on the dust jacket of their book. Also, the wall o' yarn at Knitty City is pretty fabulous.
Knitty City owner Pearl Chin was not able to attend, but the shop was in good hands. The stylish Phyliss of Knitting & Howe! (and hostess of the Afghanalong sew-up at which Kay and Ann finally met in person) offered words of greeting.
Knit book signings have a wonderful energy all their own. Here's Phyliss modeling her colorwork Nina Shawl from the book and Cara of January One showing off her beauteous sock and shoe. (Later in the evening, the shoe was gone entirely and two other Jaywalkers in various states of progress plus a Sockapaloooza sock in progress made an appearance.)
Apart from getting to meet the authors and other crafty folk, one gets to hear more about the creative process. For example, Ann imparted the valuable secret of the nice lingerie straps (teehee). And Kay explained the fine points of the felted boxes (felted squares, not rounds!). Here she holds a before-felting example in her hands and the after-felting boxes under her arm.
I have severe pilopoiiaphobia [fear of felting] and keep hoping desensitization will help.
Book signings also have their more pensive moments, as here with Ann. Notice, too, the infamous Moses basket in the corner, Mitred Squares Blanket covering the table, and flowers for the author, wine, books, Scribble Lace, felted boxes, tissues, etc on the table, and various shop samples in the background.
Incidentally, while Ann and Kay were most gracious with shutterbugs, with a slow digicam it was just about impossible to get a decent action shot. I mean of both of them signing books at once. Just as one might expect of compatible knitblogger co-authors, when one was looking up, the other was doing something else.
Perhaps that's a metaphor for their knitblogging, and friendship. Not Janus, the ever-vigilant and self-sufficient gatekeeper, two heads on one body facing in opposite directions, but two women, two heads, two bodies, facing in the same direction with distinct voices and vulnerabilities and points of view, engaged in a dance as intricate and cooperative as the play of knitting needles.
Now that's something to ponder while knitting during centering prayer, in the knitty city or elsewhere.