April 8, 2008
OK, I had to crack up when I saw your photo of that giant loop of linen, because the fact is that I myself recently bought a loop of linen in February at the Tailgate antiques show where I bought that red-and-white wheel quilt.
I’m planning to use it up at the shack this summer as a roller towel, which is what the thing is, I think we can all agree. I mean, what else would you use a loop of linen for? NO I AM NOT WEARING IT AS A TUBE TOP. That’s just creepy.
Parallel Lives, Part 2
The other thing I had to crack up about was the fact that we each took our famblies to Williamsburg, unbeknownst to the other, exactly one week apart. I can tell by your chronicle that you didn’t spend enough time in the Prentis Store–too busy making eyes at the cobbler’s apprentice, I’m guessing–because if you had, you’d have ended up with these:
This is a flint and steel, used in colonial times for fire-starting. Of course my fellas instantly had to get in on the colonial fire-starting which, in this day and age, is mostly a comically terrible way to start fires. You hold the steel across your knuckles, then strike the sharp edge of the flint with the steel as hard as you can. Really, it was like the Three Stooges. The glee/misery cycle was about three seconds long.
“I did it!”
“I did it!”
I’d be happy to send these small instruments of torture to you if your fella isn’t having enough colonial fun yet.
The other item that came home from the Prentis Store was some yarn made out of the grubby sheep that we spotted grazing in a picturesque way behind the blacksmith’s cottage.
Mr. Prentis confessed that while the fleece is a genuwine product of Williamsburg, the spinning actually takes place in a distant land known as West of the Mississippi Which We Haven’t Really Explored All That Much Yet But There Are Spinners Among The Native Tribes, We Think.
A quick detour down Pochahontas Trail took us to Knitting Sisters, a seriously fine shop stocked with a boatload of yarn and a really great staff. Snagged a skein of Colinette Jitterbug yarn in that shade I love so, Lobster:
A product of the Mother Country, likely to be blockaded at any moment.
I really, really loved Williamsburg. Next time I want to stay in one of those little colonial houses. It really is possible to do that, you know. I’m renting a costume. I’m going to shepherd some sheep. Put my boys to work with the brickmaker.
One Mystery Solved
You speak of the mighty power of blogging. Lemme tell you, I’m feeling it right now. My lack of a skein of Alice Starmore Campion in Old Gold is completely and thoroughly resolved. My profound and deep thanks to Kabira, who posted my dilemma to the members of the Knitting Beyond the Hebrides listserv. (You can subscribe here. There is infinite wisdom in there about all things Hebridean.) The heroic Margaret of the Upper West Side not only had some Alice Starmore Campion Old Gold but sent me her entire stash of gold-colored yarns so that I could be sure I had the right shade.
I’m back at my Keava sleeve, relieved at the whole thing and still marveling at the coolness of the Internet.
If you did not guess what the trick in our post from the first day of the month was, it is this: all the words have one part. None of those words with two parts, or three, or four. It is sort of hard to use words with but one part. One tends to sound sort of like the ape man who swings on a vine and has a gal pal named Jane.