not my fault!
So as I was saying, none of this is my fault -- my path home, the yarn store's location, the luxurious fibers. And the fact that the Yarn Harlot did this, and even had the gall to post about it so that any innocent person who googled "Artfibers" -- just out of curiousity, mind you, not with any intention of buying more yarn -- would find it.
But somehow, all of these factor have led me here:
On the bottom, you may recognize Artfibers Kyoto, that seductive blend of silk and mohair with the legendary glow. The apple of many a knitter's eye, it's almost never in stock when I'm there. With no ulterior purchasing motives, I recently asked Kira at the store how one finds the elusive red Kyoto. There is a list. And several weeks later, I got an e-mail message that it had arrived. Again, through no fault of my own, I found myself at the store. Before I knew it, Kira was measuring me, and I had a custom-made pattern for a ballet-neck cap-sleeve top that I can't even think of fitting into until I stop nursing (ahem).
And that would be Golden Chai, 100 percent Tussah silk, completing my luscious yarn pyramid. I have three skeins of the green on top, and only those two of the bluish gray below it. The green has already found its way here:
Yes, that is a Flower Basket shawl. Ba, ba, ba. Me sheep. Want to make something of it?
But let's ponder the red Kyoto for a moment: Is any project worth such marvelous stuff? I have had some brilliant blue Kyoto for years that I haven't dared to knit. I keep it in the knitting basket, gaze at it, stroke it, sniff it, and cuddle up with it. Maybe what I really want is to surround myself with the most gorgeous fibers in the world; build rooms out of the stuff; live in it, on it, under it. Nest in it. Could a sweater, a shawl, or a sock be only mundane? A disappointment next to a skein that is only a skein, beautiful for its own sake? Or is a sweater only an excuse to be close to my yarn all day long?
In old project news, I'm still working on the corset sweater. And somebody please kick me if I even think about knitting mercerized cotton tape again. But it will be great. Terrific. So I keep telling my complaining hands.
This mommy gig isn't all sleepless nights and vomit-filled days. I was thrilled to receive this from my 6-month-old:
That would be a gift certificate to my favorite Oakland yarn shop. Oh, how well my baby knows me. And my child will likely catch on, too.