I am a dork.

I didn't want to turn out to live up to my childhood nickname. I hated it when people called me Dorky. It always made me feel like I was unclean, unworthy of the title of humanity. So imagine my surprise when that word was once again going through my mind as a reference to myself. I will always hate the name Dorky and not respond to it, but somehow being a dork has become a positive thing, a thing to be a little bit proud of, strange that.

This morning I woke up dreaming of a yarn store full of beautiful yarns, knitting needles, spinning wheels, drop spindles and silk hankies. I was offering to make a swift for the owner if she would let me have some yarn, a few silk hankies and a drop spindle. Thing is, I haven't even been there yet.

We are going to Thunder Bay to pick my Grandma up from the airport on the 17th after the kids go home. I have already found out where the yarn stores are and Google Map-ed them. The directions are tucked securely in my suitcase ready to go.

I have called them both for hours of operation and even have some alpaca and a pattern on hold for me at Threads in Time. The lady who answered the phone was so nice, friendly and helpful (and close to the hotel we are staying at) that I am going there first.

Can you feel my excitement? Are you not calling me a dork? Are you remembering the time you planned your first yarn crawl? Are you now calling yourself a dork?

Tell me about your first yarn crawl. Let's be dorks in happiness and fond memories together.

By the way, does anyone else's computer desk look like this?