I had a run-in with my Noro scraps this weekend, cranking some squares for the Knitty City Blanketpalooza coming up this Wednesday night. Pearl and Phyllis and the gang there are sewing up a blanket in memory of Peter, to send to Afghans for Afghans, and I wish I could help out. Anybody who’s on the Upper West Side with a tapestry needle and some gumption would find a real outlet for that sewing-up energy. And also some excellent company, in that coziest of yarn shops.
Thoughts on Noro
I used to hate this stuff–I mean, Noro went against everything I believed yarn should be. All those colors mashed up willynilly, the clunky chunkiness of it, the bits of hay and whatnot in there. The way it totally refused to behave, so unpredictable. Clean up this stuff! It’s a MESS!
Well, I’m over all that. These eight-inch squares, plain old garter stitch, were totally and completely, 100% hypnotic to make. I can hardly express how addicted I was this weekend, wandering around trying to knit while fixing turkey sandwiches, while getting money out of the ATM, while sleeping. I even took it with me to the Ryman Auditorium Saturday afternoon and knitted through an entire live show of A Prairie Home Companion, complete with Brad Paisley, and if I had to pick, I’d have to say that the squares might have been just a little more fun. I can’t think of a yarn that has provided so much drama and amusement. “Omigod, I think it’s going TEAL on me.” It’s a party in a skein, every time.
If anybody wonders what ten days of eating absolutely disgusting stuff can do for a baby bird, well:
I find this kind of incredible. Baby no. 3 is somewhere under there, grumpy about it.