August 17th, 2007

knit - my purls

Lenox for the WTF.

WHAT THE HELL?

Okay, I come from a small town in New England known for things like the Boston Symphony in the summer and fucknothingatall in the winter, and I moved three thousand miles away from there, and today:

Someone comes in to my workplace to do a staff training, and she owns a summer house in my small town, like one mile from where I grew up.

I am cruising through my knitting blog addiction, and people are posting about some crazy "Knitter's Review Retreat" (no, I don't really know what that is, but it involves a bunch of people whose blogs I read from all over the place chartering a hotel and having some crazy yarn-related shindig and learning to do Swedish Stranded Colorwork and stuff) IN MY TOWN, AT THE FREAKING PLACE WHERE WE HAD HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION DINNER.

OKAY, I don't know how to express how this is shocking and wtf and making me feel like I have entered a PARALLEL DIMENSION where the town I remembered for being wholly boring and closing at 5 pm except for some really terrible bars and lots of hicks in pickups (not that there's anything wrong with that -- we proudly welded the door of our old Toyota back on every year so the car would pass inspection)... is suddenly a place that people MENTION, and things are happening that I would like to be present for!

I feel the desire to yell "OMG I AM FROM THERE!" instead of wanting to be from somewhere, well, cool. (Because people have mentioned my town before, and I usually mumble something about "it's nice to drive through, but I wouldn't want to get knocked up and tied down there.")

Is this one of those growing-up steps like discovering you like the foods you've refused to eat your whole life or voluntarily going to bed at 9:00?