So, last weekend as I was waiting for Sarah to be ready to cast on The Triangle Thing That Needs A Better Name, I read an email notice about Vogue Knitting LIVE! New York saying that Stephen West was going to be teaching there — and that this would be his only VKL appearance!  Augh!  Stephen West!  My newest favorite designer!  The one who blows me away with his vibrant color work and staggering use of line!  STEPHEN WEST!!!  I am currently knitting his Vertices Unite shawl and have a bag full of Blue Moon yarn all set to go for his Royally Striped sweater/jacket.  I LOVE his stuff!

And oh how — there for a few moments — I wanted the kind of life where I could say "Terrific!  I'm hopping on a plane to New York in January to take a class with Stephen West."  And I wished I lived in the kind of world where people would completely understand that to be a rational thing to do.  And I thought of my son-in-law Dave who is a geologist and whose company flies him around the country to meet with other geologists — and, hey, when you're a geologist you have to go to where the rocks are, everyone accepts that.  And I thought of all the Seattle sports fans who fly to other states to root for our 'Hawks.  No one thinks that is crazy.

Then, as I cooled down a bit — just a little bit — I acknowledged that there were some very real family and financial reasons to prevent me from jet-setting at this time and that truly these were more important than a knitting class with Stephen West.  And then I heaved a monumental sigh and thought "Why oh why does everything really cool happen someplace else?!"  And then I slumped in my chair like a teenager muttering "Nothing ever happens here."

After a slightly ridiculous amount of sulking, I decided "Okay, I may not be able to go to the VKL Stephen West classes and I may not live in a cosmopolitan wonderland….but I can knit myself something so elegant and sophisticated that I when I wear it I will feel like I go to Stephen West classes in New York whenever I want!" (If you understand this logic…well, if you don't understand this logic, you will just have to trust me when I say that it made all the difference and saved me some part of a day I had rued).

I dug out the pattern for Kate Gilbert's Clapotis — which is not merely polished but Parisian and positively shrieks sophistication (most urbanely, of course).  I hit the lace weight yarn bin of the stash and came out with 1200 yards of the most gloriously autumnal fine wool in gradations of red wine hues.  

Anyone who tells you that you can't cast on happiness isn't….well, isn't a knitter.