Ohhhhhh, what a weekend. Next week the fourth graders are having their Biography Fair, where everybody dresses up like historical figures and stands in a big room telling their stories to the other students. David will be Henry Ford, so we have been assembling a Model A in a process that has taken longer than assembling a full-size Model A. We have completely dispensed with the engine and may punt the whole thing if we can’t find the carburetor before Tuesday. PS Helpful hint: A can of spray paint in the hands of a six-year-old little brother results in no rock unpainted.
Some masochist asked to see what yarn we discovered on our little book tour. I wasn’t going to bring up this subject at all, but today I was rooting around in the carnage here and found it all sitting hopefully in a large bag, blinking patiently and waiting for me to pay attention to it. I can’t believe how much beautiful yarn there is in the world. I can’t believe it all came home with me.
When I saw the list of yarn shops we would be visiting on our tour, I got nervous. I set out some guidelines, designed to keep me from getting into “trouble” when confronted with walls of yarns.
Here’s how THAT idea went.
Rule 1: No yarn that I had ever purchased before. This was ironclad. With so many yarns in the world, no way was I going to bring home something I’d ever seen before.
Rule 1 Broken: After about three minutes at our first yarn shop, Seaport Yarn, New York City.
Blue Heron Mercerized Cotton, 1,000 yards, hand dyed. I fudged this one by arguing to myself that I’d never seen this yarn anywhere else. A laceweight cotton! In those close variegated shades me love so muchy. See what I mean? Two guinea pigs of the stuff right into the tote bag.
Rule 2: No sock yarn. (OK so that one wasn’t really much of a rule, considering I have never made a pair of socks in my life. I figured Rule 2 would be right up there with “Absolutely NO HEROIN while on tour.”)
Rule 2 Broken: At Loop in Philadelphia. No way to avoid it, what with the sock knitters flailing around with double-pointed needles, making it look like sock knitting = portable Mardi Gras. It was like Pete Doherty was behind the counter, I tell you.
Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Sock. FOUR SKEINS. Which brings us to
Rule 3: No more than three skeins of any particular yarn.
Rule 3 Broken: See above. And also at Knit Happens in Alexandria.
Debbie Bliss Pure Silk. It was practically Easter. They were like eggs, they were. Surprisingly dense little skeins, as if mercury were a yarn.
Rule 4: No crazy-priced single skeins.
Rule 4 Broken: Knit Happens.
Artyarns Silk Rhapsody. Good Lord, it looks like a neapolitan ice cream bar when the chocolate and strawberry and vanilla all melt and–OK I’ll shut up.
Rule 4 also bit it in Huntsville at Yarn Expressions:
Claudia Hand Painted Euroflax. Come on now, have you EVER SEEN SUCH A THING? What was I going to do? Not GET IT?
Rule 5: No, under any circumstances, tweedy yarn. No heathers, no Shetlands, no yarn that harkens to the North Atlantic. I have a lot of this sort of thing.
Rule 5 Broken: At virtually every single store. This was pathetic.
By the time we made it to Birmingham, I was sloppy drunk, just buying whatever looked like it had flecks and grim colors, nothing too dreary or gruesome for me. It was like sneaking vodka in a shampoo bottle. Yorkshire Tweed, Felted Tweed, Katmandu DK, whatEVER.