If you’re Rhinebeck bound, we would love to see you at Jill Draper’s studio in Kingston on Saturday night. Details here.

A vanished post!

Kay! I just discovered the following post by you on our other blog, which I never saw until just now. MAN, is this confusing. I’m moving it here because it’s such a fine piece of Kayness, and it’s nice about me which I never tire of, and at least this way you’re in our new improved blog. x0 Ann
Ann Withdrawal
Where is Ann? Ann has headed for the hills, literally. She has tossed her brood, her knitting and her Squeaky in the back of the car and headed for increasingly rural surroundings. (Being a provincial New York type, I imagine that there was no need to pack footwear and that there WILL be a jug band at some point.)
I miss ol’ Ann. I had a dream about Ann last night. In this dream, I ran into Ann at Target (where else?); she was pushing a big red cart piled high with unnecessary plastic objects. To my disappointment, real-life Ann (who I’ve never met–see FAQs about Kay and Ann) turned out to be one of my former legal colleagues who moved to a Southern state. I liked this colleague just fine, but let’s just say she was No Ann. So I was gnashing my teeth and wondering why this pal would play such a mean–and bizarrely elaborate — trick (writing all those emails, immersing herself in the trials, tribs and trivia of knitting, inventing a vast imaginary stash containing the fabled Rowan Lightweight DK and other now-vanished yarns in colors like “Orkney”, not to mention joining Rowan International and deceiving all those kindhearted British ladies….). Then, just before I woke up, I realized that this person could never impersonate Ann, because I used to edit her, and she did not write like Ann!! Dreams are seldom resolved so neatly.
The Knitting Front
Things are in a mess on the knitting front. I had a bout of food poisoning Monday night, that lingered into Tuesday and Wednesday and weakened my very life force, i.e., the drive to knit. I ended up tearing out my 30 rows of intarsia’d lizard for Robby’s cushion, because I had dropped a stitch somewhere and am too much of a perfectionist to simply restore the errant stitch and let my lizard friend have one stitch askew on his right paw. Once I start ripping back intarsia, I can never seem to get it back on the needles. It became a sorry, tangled mess. My teenage niece Kristin, who is visiting, asked if I had ever been involved in a more tragic knitting situation (two years ago I got her so enthused about knitting that she made an entire blanket from Kids Knitting by Melanie Falick–now she’s wise-cracking) –I’m sure I have been, but I can’t remember when.
I only have one project that I’m in the middle of–Salt Lake City in the Jaeger Trinity book. I’m into the second repeat of that outrageous braided center cable, but haven’t picked it up for weeks. Not the thing to take up when one is in a bad knitting mood–every 4 or 5 stitches one must get out the cable needle, squint at the slanty lines on the chart and figure out whether to twist it left or right. Since Not Knitting is not an option, it seems like the only way out is to embark on a stocking stitch marathon from one of my Rowan books. One of those 15-ballers they like to design to sell a lot of yarn. Something so blousy and balloony that I will never actually wear it, but I will get a lot of soothing clickety-clack out of it. What will it be?
Favorite Spam Title of the Day: “Lose Weight the Spiritual Way!!”

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