I have a brief interlude before things ramp up again and wanted to share some recent knitting snippets.
I watched, heart in throat, as they wrapped up the yarnmoire to travel to Utah. Only days before, I finished inventorying my yarn, though if it ever makes the leap from photos on my hard drive to ravelry it will be a knitting miracle. I thought they would box up the yarn, but they left it on the shelves and cocooned it in place with paper ‘blankets’ as they call them. At least I won’t have to rearrange all the yarn, but the irony is that the top shelf isn’t very well organized anymore, because as I was inventorying I thought, ‘Well, I don’t really need to get it perfect since it’s all getting taken out and put in boxes anyway.’ Wrong!
Wish my yarn, yarnmoire, and all other stuff luck as they take the slow boat to America. I wonder if they’ll be excited as they see Ellis Island? I will miss you yarn.
For at least six months I’ve admired these apothecary jars we sell at the fab shop I work at. Oh the things I could do with these I daydreamed; mostly involving displaying needles and yarn, but also considering decorative applications in the bathroom or holiday vignettes or usage for parties. But, I’ve always talked myself out of them. Be practical, I’d say. Well, as I’ve mentioned before, the time to get things is coming to an end, so I decided to splurge and get myself one of them (with my husband saying “For the love of Pete, just do it!”) So I called up the shop and asked if we still had one. Nope. Lame, I know better than waiting until the last minute.
That evening we gathered at the local thai restaurant for my farwell dinner. And what should the wonderful owner hand me? Not just one apothecary jar I wanted, but all three! All due to some clever detecting on my friends part! I can’t wait until they’re on the other side with my yarn. I will post pictures, so check back!
Once the packers hit their stride and started loading up some crates for the long journey I retired to the kitchen to avoid being trampled. What to do, but knit, so I worked on my sock. Tony, the big, burly, twenty-year-experienced packer walked in.
“Are you knitting?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m working on a sock.”
“I haven’t seen anyone doing that since my gran.”
“It’s becoming quite fashionable again,” I assured him.
He looked incredulous as he replied, “I can’t imagine MY wife doing that.” And off he went.