Sock Summit, that is.
When I first heard about this, I planned on going. It’s in Portland, which is an 8 hour drive from me. That’s far, but it’s closer than any of the other big events. And, since I do love to knit socks, it seemed perfect. I planned on driving there on a Wednesday, taking classes, knitting, and shopping until Sunday, and then driving home. That would require spending four nights in a hotel and money for gas, meals, and yarn, but we’ve been saving, so it was possible.
Then, as you know, Josh’s hours got cut in half. I just couldn’t justify spending that much money, even if we had it, when his job wasn’t as stable as we had thought. I was bummed, but not crushed. I hadn’t even gotten around to making hotel reservations yet, so I wasn’t really committed.
It turns out that registration was on Monday, starting at 10:00 A.M. At that time, I was on a school bus taking part in an all-school field trip. There was no way I could have registered, even if I was planning on going. So, no big deal, since I had already made the decision not to go. The stars were not aligned.
If you haven’t heard, registration for Sock Summit was very ah, problematic, to say the least. There were 4000 spots open for classes, and the server got 30,000 hits. I’m no math whiz, but even I know that’s not a good thing. Chances are, even if I were able to be in front of a computer, I wouldn’t have gotten the classes I wanted, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to register at all. Many people were turned away, as you can imagine. I might have managed to spend 15 minutes trying to register, but, given my job, there’s no way I could have spent more time than that until much later in the day.
I felt okay about not going before, but it seems to me that it probably just wasn’t meant to be for me. I’m going to see if there is a class at the not-so-local yarn shop going on this summer that looks interesting. That’ll be enough for me, for now.
