The Weekend Report

It was a fast weekend, full of yarn sniffing, board games and good weather that makes you painfully aware that summer is coming to an end and fall is nipping at its heels. On Saturday we went to the Wisconsin Sheep and Wool festival with Becca and Sofie. I gather that there were sheep there, but I barely noticed anything beyond the heaping luscious stacks of yarn skeins. Alpaca, Merino, sheep wool… sock weight, chunky, sport… in colors with fabulous names like merlot, sage, eggplant, turquoise, pumpkin… spun with silk and cashmere… I swooned my way through the day. I would pick up a skein of alpaca yarn dyed a deep forest green and inhale deeply, rubbing it tenderly against my cheek. How would this feel made into a sweater? A pair of mittens? A shawl? There is something very sensual about knitting with a good yarn. It’s deliciously seductive. It is satisfying to hold and create something beautiful with.

So now ya’ll know. If I have ever knit anything for you, I smooshed it against my face about eleventeen hundred times and sniffed it at least that many times. But not, you know, in like a weird kind of way, or anything. Ahem.

In other knitting news, I finished my pair of socks on Friday night and am on the make for new knitting projects. Chris was all too happy to help me with this decision and even joined in the shopping foray, selecting yarn for a hat and scarf he’d like me to knit up (he did not, however, do the “sniff and rub”, which made me wonder how he knows which yarn is best). Becca suggested I make her a pair of socks, and then there are the half dozen knitting projects I have shelved over the years. I’ve got to finish the sweater that I originally started for Sofia nearly three years ago. The sweater for Jay. The scarves for my mom and aunt Fran. The matching pair of mittens for Ella and I, fashioned out of a long abandoned sweater project, Cloe. The baby blanket I started for my niece Carmen, which, when I didn’t finish in time, became the baby blanket for Annali, which became the baby blanket for Sofia, which… I think you know where this is going. It still sits in my yarn bin, patiently awaiting my attention and for some yet unborn baby girl.

Ah, my yarn bin- full of all my best intentions.

Isn’t that also like the road to hell? Full of good intentions? Does that mean there’s knitting in hell? I don’t suppose I would want to knit in hell, I mean it is so hot there, and all. But then it is a great way to pass the time and what with there being A LOT of time to spend there, I guess it might make for a good thing to do there, after all. Maybe the only thing you can knit there are ridiculous things, like huge sweaters on really tiny needles and when you get done, the devil is all, that will never fit me! I hate that color! I am not wearing that! Which makes you want to cry because you spent FOREVER making the darn thing and now he won’t even wear it. Or maybe you can only do silly things like knit tea cup cozies using synthetic yarn in horrible colors, because sheep don’t go to hell, so where would you get the wool from?

Obviously, this is a complicated issue.