I don't think Stephanie Pearl-McPhee would like me. I am slovenly, I can't run a household, I'm arrogant, I'm pedantic, we're from completely different social backgrounds, and I have very little life experience, compared to her. If we were ever near eachother for a length of time, I don't think we'd become friends. She'd be nice to me, because she's nice to everyone, but we'd never become close, I think.
I say this because I admire her so much that I fantasize about being in a knitting group with her. I've seen her twice live (at SOAR 2006, where she was guest speaker, and at Maker Faire this past year, where I made sure we got there early enough to get a good seat), and I've always really enjoyed knitting and laughing with her. I'm not one to get my books signed, so I've never seen her from more than 50 feet away. (That's not true- I kinneared her at SOAR 2006 at the opening ceremony, when she sat in the row in front of me... and she hadn't yet coined the term "kinnear.")
However, I'm determined to do so next time, just so I can be face-to-face with someone who is making a living with knitting (and not even by owning a yarn store, either). The thought of being in front of her- and I know she's a normal person, and probably dislikes being the object of knitterly fantasy- makes me daydream of what token I can offer- handmade fimo stitch markers? Homemade marshmallows (covered in chocolate, just for her)? Handspun? My firstborn? I'm sure she'd be fine with me just saying "thanks" for signing my books, but I'm equally sure that I'd gush in a creepy way. At Maker Faire, during the knit-in, where there were so many people who just wanted to be close to her that it was standing-room-only and she had to have a microphone, she asked to use my knitting as a demonstration (I was the only one with long straights), and I said to the group, "Oh my god, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee touched my knitting." I only realized afterward that while I was joking (my sqealing fangirl impression), it sounded pretty weird.
Another dream of mine (one of those "If I won the lotto tomorrow" ones) is to invite S P-M to San Francisco on my dime (like, for Stitches West, or the Golden Gate Fiber Institute). I imagine the house being tidy-ish and no longer under construction, with the silk moire wallpaper in the hall that my mom wants, and all the cats the most beautiful and well-behaved creatures, and me with an astoundingly beautiful handspun, handknit, self-designed sweater on. And Stephanie Pearl-McPhee taking a picture of the outside of the house (freshly painted, and with a tasteful amount of gold leaf) with the sock, and blogging that she's amazed I live in this gorgeous Victorian house.
What stops this fantasy dead, is, of course, that I think she'd politely comment- she might even take a picture- but she'd never blog about it. I don't leave comments on her blog (or any blog), I'm terrible at emailing people, I mostly lurk on Ravelry, I stopped swapping because I'm too cheap to go to the post office. And she, at least in my mind, is always very prompt with her correspondance and blogging, she documents her work religiously, she buys sweaters-worth of yarn without a moment's compunction.
So in the end, I can but continue to dream.
...until I perfect my hypnotism.