Alright. Onto the knitting portion of my blog-absence.
The Sartene tank has been worn and worn. She looked lovely at the hair salon, getting trimmed and styled. She looked radiant at the Court of Two Sisters in the french quarter attending my bridal shower/jazz brunch. She is not looking so fresh right now. I got over my fear of wearing it, now I need to get over my fear of washing it. Pray for strength...
The KPPPM which was never to be socks, is now a mini-clapotis
. For those of you familiar with the pattern, it's only two increase repeats at the beginning, and is about 6 inches wide. The Koigu looks amazing, so many colors blending beautifully. Contrary to my belief
, the purple really is prominent.
Sidebar: right now it's pouring down rain here. Imagine a (gentle) giant like Big Mac being afraid of the thunder. It's so funny seeing this huge German Shepherd following you around because he won't be by himself. Seriously folks, fear of dogs? Makes NO sense to me.
Also got some YUMM-TASTIC wool in NOLA for a felted purse. It's chunky, and so soft! I must say it rivals Melanie's Blue Sky Alpaca
bear yarn in softness. Affordable? A total meal deal. Plus it's this great variegated berry color. Would it be wrong to felt such a yummy yarn? The more I think about it, the more I feel the mini-clap just won't be happy as an only scarf, she needs a sister. Tomorrow, the yumm-tastic wool and I shall meet to discern it's destiny. There may be a crystal ball and some old chicken bones involved.
I'll leave you with a Public Service Announcement.
A knitter's nightmare played itself out yesterday right here in Small Town, America, people. The kind of thing you warn your kids about, the reason you pay taxes and have a neighborhood watch. I left the house, just like every day, fastened my seatbelt and adjusted my rearview mirror. I'm not reckless or unprepared. I'm ready for any situation. I keep aspirin and two shades of lipgloss in my purse and ketchup packets in the glovebox. I've seen "Charlie's Angels" twice, I've got some moves. Went exploring down town Fredericksburg, keeping an eye out for the LYS. (THE LYS, there's only one, a small tragedy in itself. I digress.) What I wasn't prepared for, after half an hour of searching for this place, was to find it...pause for dramatic effect...CLOSED. That's right, CLOSED. And not just on Tuesdays, but for VACATION. I was too distraught to get out of the car to see how long. Can you imagine, people? An innocent trip to check out the local yarn stash, see about maybe some Dale of Norway patterns for a preggo friend' papoose, maybe some fondling, some light petting, who knows where it could go. Only to be slapped in the face with a cold, heartless closed sign? I'll be on the shrink's couch with this one.
With indignant sneer: To all you yarn store owners out there, what's up with the vacations? The rest of us don't take them, why are you? What are you? French*?
The very least you could do is list an emergency contact, or an alternate yarn haven, even directions to the nearest JoAnn. SOMETHING. But, no. I believe I speak for everyone when I say: This is not cool.
politics and Dixie Chicks aside, I love France. The language, the wine, the cheese, the Chocolate, the lavender. Vive la France! Someday, when I win the lotto, my bees and I will live in Provence and gorge on all of the above. We may invite the Lt to join us, as he does confess a love for the Pinot Noir. We'll see.