Can I have a do-over?

Me and my big mouth. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but when the words actually came out of my mouth, I realized the enormity of my mistake. Let's rewind a bit.

A couple weeks ago LeAnn and I received a brief yet momentus e-mail from Liana announcing that Stitches South is going to be held in Atlanta in April next year. (For the non-knitter, "Stitches" is a gi-normous yarn event held by the lovely people at Knitters Universe magazine. I believe it's normally held in Chicago, Baltimore and somewhere on the far side of the Rockies. Basically, not within reasonable driving distance from my fair city.) It didn't take long for the three of us to make plans. Bottom line, this is big, like Daytona is to Nascar. No, it's bigger.

Fast forward to last weekend. Becky and I had a yard sale for the main reason of getting rid of stuff, making money was just a bonus. I culled through my stash and selected oddballs, yarn that had no project attached to it and stuff that I don't love anymore. I put it in the yard sale (sold about $40-50 worth). Parting with yarn is unheard of around here, which is why Zack seemed genuinely worried about his mom's sanity. He's probably wondering if he's next...either that or he's thinking it's time to call the home.

That brings us to today. I've been thinking about the expenses involved in attending Stitches South. Actually, I've been thinking about how much fiber I'm going to buy. I'll go without food (or bring a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter) if it means being able to by more yarn at Stitches. From what I've heard from others who have attended, we're talking about yarn/fiber in epic proportions. I love a challenge!

Now here's where I got into huge trouble. On the way to church tonight, I was telling Zack about Stitches, who I'm going with, who he'll stay with, that he'll probably go to Talladega that weekend anyway, etc. Then I dropped the bomb. I said, "In order to help save up for the trip I'm not going to buy any yarn until I get there." The look on his face clearly spoke "are you out of your ever loving mind?" and "who are you and what have you done with my mother" and "YES! no more covert trips to the yarn shop!"

My next word was a timid, somewhat questioning, "Well..." and he quickly stopped me and said, "oh no, it's too late. You said it and I'm going to make sure you mean it."

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Crap.

Do you think I can do this? I looked at a calendar. I feel sick, my vision is blurring, the walls are closing in around me. I. Can't. Breathe.