not my scene, man

On February 19, 2010, in NY stories, by Lori

What a disappointment. As I mentioned yesterday, I was SO excited about the Night of Knitting at the City Bakery Hot Chocolate Festival. All day long, I kept thinking about it with something like glee. I didn’t have lunch, saving my appetite (and calories) for all the yummy offerings in the evening. I brought my , and was excited about getting to knit with others, in a big room full of knitters.

I had an hour to kill before the doors opened at 7, so I walked around. It’s in an area of Manhattan that I rarely/never visit, so it was all new to me. It was cold, and my backpack was extra heavy since I planned to work at home on Friday, so I had my laptop and sheafs of papers in it, along with everything else. By the time I headed over to , I was tired and cold. At 6:35, I thought I’d just walk past it to be sure I knew where it is, and WHOA. The line was already all the way down the block. So I scurried over there and took my place, so far away that I couldn’t see the door of the bakery.

Since the event was sold out, one of the guys periodically walked the line to be sure no one was there thinking they could just buy a ticket at the door. And then he said these dreadful words to the women standing behind me: “Yeah, there are 220 people signed up.” A gasp went up in the group who could hear him. 220 people?! Really? There’s no way that many people could fit in that space!

But that’s what they did. The event organizers left in enough tables for people to sit in the various workshop groups, and almost no others. I guess they just took the maximum number of people allowed by the fire code and sold that many tickets…..but I’m telling you, that does not leave a space conducive to a nice evening. On top of that, it’s winter, and people were wearing big coats and having to carry their stuff with them, so it was nearly impossible to walk around the place.

The advertisement said you could take a workshop or just bring your own and sit with that…..but there were no tables for people to sit and knit. So you had to stand (if you could even find a place to stand) and hold your food and drink(s) and knit. And expect to be jostled and pushed around by the crowd.  I threw down one little shot of lemon pie hot chocolate (gross) and another of banana peel hot chocolate (not my fave) and left. It was such a relief, getting out of that crushing crowd.

I saw other people leaving, too, and when I was trying to make my way through the crowd, people were angry, rolling their eyes and grumbling. Bad event planning, . I won’t fall for that one next year. Since it is an annual event, they must count on a whole new crop of people each year, because surely no one who attended last night would want to go again next year.

Too bad……….dashed hopes for a lovely evening. It happens.

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random threads

On February 18, 2010, in Food, books, knitting, by Lori

#1. Nothing screams “woman of a certain age” like a big fan on the desktop blowing on medium speed. During the month of February. In very cold Manhattan. What’s next for me – red hats and purple sweaters? :)

festival!

#2. Tonight is Night of Knitting at the City Bakery Hot Chocolate Festival. Am I excited?! I’m restraining myself from rampant and later-embarrassing overuse of exclamation points. I’m a very shy person who rarely leaves home, except to go to work, but I’m looking forward to being in this place tonight, full of strangers who also knit and love hot chocolate. For $30, provides a full (and sumptuous, I’m sure) dinner, plus dessert, and unlimited wine, beer, coffee, and 10 kinds of hot chocolate. Plus, workshops galore, local yarn shops representing, and a spinning workshop. The event sold out weeks ago, so I’m glad I hopped on it as soon as it was announced. I don’t know a soul (unless I don’t know that I know you through rav), but I cannot wait.

#3. Very sadly, since there’s just not enough time in the day/week, I don’t get to read nearly as much as I’d like. I belong to a book club that meets once a month, and it takes me the entire month to get the book read. Some months I can’t even accomplish that. Last month’s book was just wonderful – Unaccustomed Earth, by , as was this month’s book – The Partisan’s Daughter, by Louis de Bernieres. It’s not always the case that I like (or can even bear to read) our group’s selections, so it was great having two in a row that were rich and wonderful. I even finished The Partisan’s Daughter a few days early, so I flipped to the menu on my Kindle en route to work this morning and started reading The Creative Habit: Learn it and Use it for Life, by . It’s written with an easy tone, as if she’s just talking to you, and so far it’s good – about the and routine that feed . I am a creative person, but in the realm of craft, not art. I have loved books and words with great intensity, my whole life. My mind spontaneously produces wonderful images and metaphors. A couple of weeks ago, I described a feeling of being a hollow shell full of birds. Wow! Evocative, powerful, and apt. But when I sit down to write, everything flattens. All psychological depth disappears and I write “and then she blah blah blah, and then he blah blah blah. And then they blah blah blah.” BO-RING.

Like many people, I have a sense that if I could just let go, I could be more creative. Of course, that’s easy to say! But when you sit at your desk, how do you “let go?” I do like the idea of and routine as an entry to a creative process, so maybe I’ll try that. Anyway, the book is good, applicable to anyone who is (or wants to be) creative in any way, and not at all New Age-y or mysterious. You might be touched by God, as Mozart was said to be, but he also worked harder than anyone else, and was much more disciplined than the movie Amadeus suggested, so his gift worked because he worked it.

And, it’s Thursday – halle-flippin-lujah!

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