A sock takes a trip, Toronto to Arkansas. My yesterday and this morning, in sock pictures. (It’s a crazy week.)
Yarn: Desert Vista Dyeworks, colourway: Convo Me. (I got it at the Loopy Ewe, but it looks like it’s gone now.)
A sock takes a trip, Toronto to Arkansas. My yesterday and this morning, in sock pictures. (It’s a crazy week.)
Yarn: Desert Vista Dyeworks, colourway: Convo Me. (I got it at the Loopy Ewe, but it looks like it’s gone now.)
Look! It’s the Minni sweater. This little sweater is knit from three colours of yarn. You use a fair bit of the two main colours, and then there’s just a little bit of the third. In my case, that third colour is the pretty green. It’s for the belt in the back, the edges, the i-cord ties… and you knit the belt and ties first and then set them aside so that you can knit them into the project at the right moments. I did that. I made a little pile of things, and they’ve been on the coffee table waiting to be added in at all the correct moments. One side of the wee belt got knit in pretty early on, and one of the ties was added too.
The other ties have been waiting until it was their turn. This morning, I unpicked the provisional cast on from the other end of the belt, and knit it in, and then the next instruction said to add one of the ties. I looked around, and couldn’t find those ties, and then I remembered.
Yesterday morning, before I cheerfully made my way to The Loopy Ewe, I got up at 4:30am, and added the few things to my luggage that are always last minute – like my computer stuff, and my knitting. Now, I am not the sort of person that can actually do things at 4:30am. Maybe you can, but I can’t. It’s part of the reason that it was important for me to breastfeed my kids. If I’d have had to get up, go to the kitchen, get something, warm something or make something, it would have ended in some form of disaster. Better for all of us that their food system wasn’t something I could mix up wrong in the night, and could administer while we were both lying down. I try to be effective in the wee hours, but it’s just not who I am – all I can do effectively at 4:30am is drink coffee and weep a little.
I’ve learned to work around it. When I have to get up then (it’s always for a flight) there’s a system in place to keep me from screwing something up. Joe puts the coffeemaker on automatic so it’s there the moment I wake (I can drink coffee at 4:30, but not make it.) I set the cab up the night before, and under no circumstances do I leave any important packing to the last. I make no choices at 4:30, and I certainly don’t try to think. I put everything that I’ll need to use in the morning, and then add to a suitcase on the coffee table. This is what I did with the Minni sweater. When I put it down the night before, I put it down with all the other stuff going to Colorado- and went to bed. In the morning, I got up, drank coffee and put the stuff from the table into my purse, or – sort of.
I picked up the pieces of the sweater, folded them tidily, and lifted them into my suitcase. Then I added the extra skeins of yarn, which I’d added so that I can’t run out while I’m here, and then- then I looked at those ties, sitting there on the table, and I tried to think what I could possibly need them for, why I could have thought I needed to put them in the pile, and I left them right on the table. I have no explanation for why I did this, especially since I knew that the part where I had to attach them was coming up, and I did have them together with everything else – I just couldn’t see how they were relevant, and there they stayed.
I can’t explain this. I know better than to attempt thinking that early. I know I can’t be counted upon to think that early, and that’s why I organize myself the night before. I know the rule is that I just put the stuff from the table into the bag, without re-imagining why I need them, and I don’t know why that system fell apart. It’s not like I forgot the ties – I actively decided not to bring them, all the while knowing what they were for, and why I might want them, and now they’re in Toronto, and I’m in Colorado, and I’m not stopping the knitting. I’ll have to figure out how to add them later, and apparently, come up with a new system for packing – one that’s foolproof – because despite thinking I’d done that? Apparently I came up with a better fool.
Just a quickie, as I sit having my coffee in the airport before my flight to Denver. (I’m giving a talk/performance/standup/whatever the hell it is that I do tonight in Loveland, if anybody wants to come. I think it will be superfun.) I’m totally ready for this trip, and I think I actually nailed the packing, except I forgot a pair of shoes. (Not totally, I mean, I’m wearing shoes, but I forgot to bring shoes that won’t look stupid with the skirt I packed, and now I have to choose between not wearing the skirt, and looking stupid. I do both of those things all the time, so I’m not super stressed.) I’m looking forward to a nap and knit on the plane, but I wanted to update you on what happened with the wheel.
Putting it together, it turns out, was pretty easy. It was together and almost spinning really quickly. Getting it together right though? That took time – and I’m still not there.
I can spin on the wheel, but not well, and it skips and stalls. After a long conversation with Judith, I think I’ve solved about half of the problems, but I’ll need some new parts to solve others. Most of the problems have to do with the spindle. This works just like a drop spindle does. The spindle spins, and adds twist to the wool – whammo, you’ve got yarn. The whole wheel part is really just a drive system to keep the spindle spinning. The spindle is attached to the “mother-of-all” and then the wheels turn it with drive bands. That little wheel on top is an accelerator head, and I’m happy to have it.
It used to be that the spindle was attached to the mother of all with strips of leather that were held in place with little wooden plugs in the back. I didn’t have any leather, so I just tied them there, which didn’t work at all.
Then I got the brainwave to put buttons on the back so that I could tie them tighter, and that’s working a little better. The leather’s going to be the thing though.
The next problem was that the upright that held that whole setup wasn’t right. The drive band was rubbing the spindle, and that can’t happen. On the phone with Judith, texting pictures to her for reference, we pretty much got it licked. Joe’s dad had lovingly refinished the wheel, stripping off some old paint and cleaning it up, but in the process had removed the wear marks that would tell me how the pieces were put together, and I’d erred on the side of gentleness. An hour later I was whacking the uprights in a lot tighter, and things were starting to fit better.
It’s nowhere near ready, and there’s going to be more work yet getting it really going, but I’m super excited about it. I think I can get this wheel so that it runs really well, and I love the idea of something so old coming back to a useful life. I haven’t figured out yet where you put a wheel this big in a house this tiny, but right now it’s in the dining room- which is totally not a long term solution, because it’s pretty fragile, and I think Lou is going to have a really hard time keeping his hands off it. I’ll figure it out though.
All right! I’d tell you more, but they’re calling my flight. Next stop, Colorado!
(PS. The November Retreat at Port Ludlow is open for registration. The theme is “Emergency 911″ and we’ll have knitting rescue and repair (that’s me teaching) Spinning rescue and repair (that’s Judith MacKenzie) and knitter/spinner rescue and repair, and that’s Carson Demers. He’s a physiotherapist/knitter/spinner. Amazing guy.) If you’d like to know a little more, you can look at our Facebook page, or email us at Strungalong@yarnharlot.ca. We’d love to tell you about it.)
A few days ago, Joe’s parents started cleaning out their storage space. They moved to a smaller home, and some stuff had to go. This process has been pretty awesome for everyone. Tons of furniture moved along, and the youngsters in particular have made some really decent scores – they’re pretty happy, but not as happy as me. Here’s what I got.
(By the way, please forgive me if things look funny. My laptop is in for service and this is coming to you from my ipad. It’s a strange system.) It’s Joe’s dad’s grandmother’s walking wheel, from her house in Newfoundland. It’s about a hundred years old, and was handmade by someone, and Joe’s father has been trucking around and caring for the thing for years and years. The problem?
You guessed it. It’s in parts. I think I have everything it takes to make it work, but I’m not totally sure, so I got two more tools.
That’s Alden Amos spinning book, and a phone that knows Judith MacKenzie’s phone number. I swear that if I can’t get it together and running with those two resources, I probably don’t deserve it.
More tomorrow, after I try and figure out what piece screws into what piece and why it all looks sort of crooked.
Thanks so much for the warm welcome for Midge! It’s nice to be at the place where we’re sailing her, instead of fixing her, and let’s hope for fair weather this weekend – while Joe will continue to sail until it’s far to cold to do so, I’m back to travelling next week, and after the next few day’s I’m probably done on the water for this year. (Travelling? Oh, yes. Next week I’m off to Loveland, then Hot Springs (Arkansas), then Vancouver, then Edmonton. You can see what I’m up to on this page, if you’re in the neighbourhood of any of those places. It feels great to be getting back into what’s more normal for me. All knitters, all the time.
Despite a family birthday dinner yesterday (Pato is 23 today! Three cheers for our gentleman) I got some decent knitting time in, and all be darned if the same thing doesn’t just keep being true. If you actually sit down and knit, knitting gets accomplished. Yesterday and today I feel like I really made progress on Minni.
Yesterday I’d knit 2/3 of the back (see that part with the diaper flare, and the wee green belt? That’s the back) and then provisionally added a whack of stitches for the front – then worked short rows there to make the neck slope, then started working all the way back and forth again for the sides. It’s a brilliant, but crazy construction. All one piece, although it’s the most interesting way there I’ve seen in a while.
With that done, there was just the side shaping to work, first back and forth on one side, then the other…
with that accomplished, the next direction was to graft the one big weird piece together at the side, so with I did what knitters do, and put on an audiobook, put my phone on silent, and sat down to do it all in one go.
That’s a lie. I stopped once halfway to take that picture. By the way, my current audiobook is Outlander. I don’t know why I waited so long to get to this series, it’s fabulous. I’m on the second book, and it’s super entertaining, although really, did anybody else notice that there’s really a lot of inappropriately timed sex in strange locations? Those two must really love each other – that or they’re loaded all the time, which, actually isn’t that far off of possible. There’s a lot of brandy and ale. Anyway, totally worth the listen.
The graft looks good, all done, and now I think I have to decide. Do the one sleeve, or the other front? I’m inclined to go front, because then I’ll just have the sleeves left, and despite getting stuck on the desolate and emotionally barren shores of what Claudia has always called “sleeve island” I think it might be worth it to have the body of the thing done. Although I haven’t checked, I have a feeling this pattern ends with a rousing game of attached i-cord, which I always knit with a fierce hatred. (It’s always worth it though.) It might be nice to have the sleeves as a cool-down after that, a little something simple to take the edge off. The other choice doesn’t seem quite as nice to me, though I might feel differently when I get to the end and there’s a shorter stay on that island. I’m going to spend a little more time patting the thing and admiring what I’ve got so far, and then I’ll decide what to do… or I guess I could simply read the pattern and do what it says.
I know. Just kidding. I crack me up too. Read the pattern and do what it says. Like people do that.
There’s not much knitting to show you today. I’m working on that little sweater and It is some seriously slow going. A friend asked yesterday what I was working on, and when I said it was Minni, there was this terrible pause, and then she said “Still?” I sit down with it for an hour or two and when I get up there’s no visible progress. If the balls of yarn weren’t getting smaller I’d swear nothing was happening, but there’s less yarn, so no matter what it looks like, I guess I’m knitting.
Can I distract you from my appalling lack of knitted things by telling you more about the boat? Great. Back to the boat story. We got the boat earlier this year, and it was in dry dock. This is an elegant way of expressing that it was up on blocks in the back of the marina, and that it was unsailable.
Not only was it unsailable, it was pretty ugly, full of water, and most parts of it were broken.
At this point, we were all pretty sure that it might not even fit the definition of a boat, since there was no guarantee that it would float. Carlos took to calling it our boat shaped jacuzzi – that’s now much water was in it.
Now, let me be clear. This is neither a big boat (it’s a Sonic 23, which means it’s 23 feet long, pretty tiny for a sailboat – barely ranking above a dingy) nor was it a boat that seemed to have much potential. Let’s start with the name. When we got it, the boat was named “Clima”. Carlos didn’t mind this too much, since he’s Spanish, and that’s just Spanish for “Climate” but to the rest of us it seemed like a pretty dumb name. (Katie and I in particular though that all it needed was an “X” to make it worse.) Joe, Carlos and Old Joe started fixing the boat. Katie and I started trying to figure out what to do about the name. It’s bad luck to change a boat’s name, apparently – although Katie and I did point out that it looked to us like it was bad luck to get in that boat in the first place, so why not?
Now this was in April, and after a meeting or two, we all though we could get the boat in the water for the end of May. May 24th, we thought, would be just about perfect, and it would have been, if that hadn’t turned out to be absolutely made of crazy. The boat’s problems were addressed one by one. First, it leaked. The fiberglass was shot up around the top edge, and you’d think that would have been the end of it, with our know-how and our budget, but nope. Joe and Carlos learned how to do fiberglass and epoxy.
The inside was pretty bad, so that was scrubbed out, by hand, for hours and hours. The whole thing was complicated by this crazy midge outbreak in Toronto. There were billions of these little bugs, and for some reason, they loved our boat. Down at the dry dock, there was about 60 boats, and they would all have midges on them, but our boat would be covered. Cloaked in them. Joe and Carlos would have them in their hair, their mouths, up their noses, and the midges got in the way of the work – it was impossible to clear them all away, more would just fly in, and they’d get stuck in the fiberglass, in the epoxy… Joe came home one day and said that he was pretty sure that the boat was now about 80% midge – that’s how many had become permanently embedded in the thing.
They sanded the boat, painted the boat, re-did some of the rigging on the boat – took apart the motor, put the motor back together, took off the rub rail – that was a big deal. It’s this rubber bumper that encircles the boat, and when they took it off, it snapped down tiny, like an elastic band, and they couldn’t get it back on for love or money. They tried heat guns, soaking sections of it in a big bin full of hot water – finally Joe MacGyvered something with a crane he found nearby and some cement blocks. It was all he could talk about for days. The boat was seeming less free all the time, and it still had a bad name. Katie and I joked that we should put three XXXs after the Clima – or maybe add the word “Change”.
Months after we planned, the boat finally went into the water. We weren’t ready, but it went anyway. This crazy truck with a sling comes and gets it, and then trucks it down the road, and lowers it into the lake. We all held our breath as it went in.
Would it float?
The rudder went on – it like all the other wood on the boat had been taken off, sanded and refinished to gleaming – the motor went on,
and Joe and I somehow piloted the thing over to our slip. It wasn’t ready to sail, but it was ready to bob around a bit, and that we did – slinging Lou onto the boat and heading out to float for a little. It was a boat. It wasn’t a sailboat yet, but it was a boat.
Another month passed, while more happened to the boat. The rigging went on – that’s all the ropes and winches and cleats and pulleys – and Joe poured over books at night, trying to figure out the electrical system. (It didn’t have one.) Carlos and I studied hard – you need to pass a boater test and get your “proof of competency” to run a boat in Canada – and we had to learn all about buoys, and horns, and right-of-way, and distress calls. (Hey, did you know that you only radio “mayday mayday mayday” if it’s a real emergency? If you need help, but not urgently, it’s “pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan.” There you go. That will probably come in handy on a crossword some day. You’re welcome.) We learned our knots. (I am particularly good at the knots.)
The boat was finally rigged, and Carlos and I had been shoved down into the hull to help finish – we were thrilled about that part, let me tell you, and we were ready to sail, finally ready to sail, with our lifejackets on and everything, except for one thing.
This halyard (that’s a rope – everything on the boat has a name you’ve never heard before- even though it had a perfectly good name before, like “rope”) had to be replaced. It ran from the boat up the mast, through a block at the top (a block is a pulley. See what I mean?) and back down again. Joe carefully attached the new one to the end of the old one, and carefully, strategically started pulling. Down the
rope halyard came on one side, and up the new one went on the other. Up, up, up it went – the mast is about 8 metres tall (about 25 feet) and the join went all the way up, and there it got stuck. Joe wiggled it, he jiggled it, he ran it down a little and back up again, and then… he pulled. He pulled and the join came apart, and the old halyard fell down one side of the mast, and the new halyard fell down the other. After a brief conversation about how someone small (that’s me) could climb the mast (there is zero chance I am ever, ever climbing a freakin’ mast) we were screwed again. No halyard, no way to pull up a sail. We were back out of business.
The “free boat” then had to be de-masted. A big crane takes off the mast so that you can put your
rope halyard back through, and then the big crane puts it back on again. This took about a week. Still, we were pretty sure that we could sail then.
Sure enough, the boat was ready to sail. We piled on, me and Joe and Carlos, and motored out to where the wind was, and only then did we realize that we still had one big barrier to sailing. We don’t know how.
Joe knows how, but to say that his crew is inexperienced would be an understatement of the grossest nature. That first day, Joe yelled things like “Hoist the Jib” and “trim your sheet” and “JIBE HO” and Carlos looked at Joe and said “Que?” I cried. Twice. (It was actually three times, but I don’t think anyone heard the third one.) We’re learning though, and now when Joe says “prepare to jibe” or “Hard alee!” we mostly do the right things.
I know now when we’re “in irons” and I can tell the difference between a starboard or a port tack, and while you wouldn’t know it to look at me, I can flake a sail faster than a grown man. I can’t tell you yet if I like sailing yet, except for this part.
Joe, however, loves it. He adores it, and he’s already talking about how when we retire, we’ll sail all around the world. There will be room, he assures me, for enough yarn. I’m not so sure – about the sailing, or the room for the yarn.
One last thing – we did rename the boat, and nothing bad has happened.
We called her MIdge.
Hello on this bright and shining last day of summer! I know, I know, it’s not technically the last day of summer, but it feels like it here. Kids head back to school tomorrow, and September can’t be counted on for any warm weather, and the air show is screaming overhead for the last day of the CNE, and I’m about to head down to the boat for what will surely be one of our last sails, and all of this is a sure sign that summer is behind me, for the most part.
Yup, boat. Joe has always dreamed of having a sailboat. He was a sailing instructor in his youth, and being a Newfoundlander, has extensive and fond ideas about boats. Me, I’m from Ontario, and my ideas about boats are vague and nervous, and largely informed by movies like “The Perfect Storm” and the occasional terrified viewing of “The Deadliest Catch.” Canoes are more my style. I’m at home in them, and know how they work, and that’s the speed for me. This mismatch in our boating attitudes has never mattered. We didn’t have a sailboat, couldn’t afford a sailboat, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon, so when the topic of a boat came up I said things like “Wouldn’t that be nice” and waved a yarn wielding hand dismissively. Well, destiny wasn’t with me, and earlier this year, Joe suddenly and magically got his wish. A friend who had inherited a sailboat from another friend decided to part ways with the thing, and she called up Joe. She’s gotten the boat for free, she said, so he should get the boat for free too. The slip was paid up for a year, the boat was ours, if we wanted it, she said. There were only two catches. The first was that if we were ever done with the boat, we had to pass it on for free to someone else, to keep the good karma going, and second – the boat needed “some work.”
Joe’s eyes lit up, and he came to me asking (rather delightedly) if we could have a boat if it was a free boat? Here, I had a flash of brilliance. “There’s no such thing as a free boat.” I said, and I meant it. The term being bandied about to describe the free boat was “derelict” and there wasn’t even a guarantee that the thing would float, and it looked to me (and to Joe) like there was going to be a lot of work, if not money involved in getting the thing into the water. We had not a lot of time, and really not a lot of money, so the plan went onto the shelf, or so I thought. Joe, and I shouldn’t have thought otherwise, didn’t let it go. Ideas were swirling around in his head, and he was keen, and so a week later, he was back. What if, he said, what if we shared the boat? It turned out his dad was keen, and Kate and Carlos were keen, and a boat shared three ways was more than reasonable – he presented me with a budget, and by wool, it was reasonable.
That, my friends, was the last reasonable thing that has happened with the boat. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow. Today, we sail. (We think.)
In the meantime, this pretty little skein of handspun became a pretty Fairy Snowcap, just about in the blink of an eye.
Fast, fun pattern, and the perfect knit to say goodbye to summer.
Someone will need it, soon enough.
This morning I found myself flipping though the “hot right now” patterns on Ravelry. This was, rather frankly, right after I perused my library, and reorganized part of the stash, and cruised a few yarn websites and …
Those, my friends, are signs, signs that maybe when I warned you that the blog was going to be boring, that what I was really saying that my knitting was boring me. Don’t get me wrong, I love this little sweater, and it’s a pleasure to knit, but those are 2.25mm needles, and that is a lot of knitting, and knitting the back had a challenging short row part, and adding the front had a crazy short row- provisional cast-on part and now…. now there are just several rows of stripes to knit for a while, and as pleasant as the whole thing is, it’s boring. Man, is it boring. It’s like peeling carrots as far as excitement goes, and even though I’ve been adding stuff to it, it’s getting to me.
I’ve always had a strategy for boring knitting. I watch a movie, or listen to a book, or read a book, or go for a walk and knit while I’m on the move, but this suddenly has all the intrigue of mashed potatoes no matter what I did, and surfing for something new is a sign that I need to move on for a bit before I start to resent the little thing so much that I get a bad attitude about it and put it into permanent hiatus. I need something new. Just a hat, or a quick pair of mittens or something to put a little zip back into the needles, and just as I was settling into the idea of waltzing off with a spectacular and zippy new project, it occurred to me that I was probably coming up on another sock deadline. I panicked, and cruised back though my archives, thinking that the last pair I made were the Starry Starry Night ones, and I finished those way more than 27 days ago, and a pair has to be knit every 27 days if I’m going to make the overall Christmas Stress Reduction plan work, and I sort of imagined the next 24 hours getting very exciting indeed, as I tried to plow out a pair of socks in no time at all.
I have the next pair on the needles. They’ve been going places with me, kicking around in my purse and I’ve been knitting them here and there – the subway, the boat (have I told you about the boat? Maybe tomorrow) and while they’re coming along, they’re nowhere near done, and then I remembered Jen’s socks! I finished those last week, and that means that I’m at 8 pairs, and it’s August, and so I am not in any kind of a fix with the socks at all, and now I’m dashing responsibility on the rocks, and going back into the stash. A nice little hat seems like just the thing to break up the monotony of the sweater, and you know. Winter is coming.
Now. Which one?
You know, I’ve thought this before, but I don’t know if I’ve said it. I think this blog being interesting relies pretty heavily on my ability to screw knitting up in an unlimited number of ways. I think most of you, while being kind, lovely people, would say that your entertainment value goes way up when I do something stupid or misinterpret a pattern. It’s not like you really want something bad to happen to my knitting, but isn’t it more fun when it does? Take this project. it’s going perfectly. My gauge swatch was bang on the first time, the yarn is the perfect choice, despite a slightly complex construction it’s coming together properly… Who wants to turn up and see this?
This project is so boring for a watch-a-long that I can’t imagine how you’re going to stand it. Last night I thought, for one tiny second that I’d made a mistake…. but I hadn’t. It’s fine. Totally fine, totally boring, and the only thing it’s got going for it is that it has so many provisional cast-ons that at some point I’m probably going to snap and complain about them, but I think that might be all you’ve got to look forward to.
Can I distract you from my (likely short lived) perfection with what has to be almost the last round of Karmic Balancing gifts?
Your fellow knitter Linda has four skeins of Noro Transitions that are ready to go to a happy home, I bet that Ceres will love them.
Grace Sheese is a potter, and keeps a lovely Etsy shop here, has two pretty, pretty cups inspired by North Ronaldsay sheep to give away.
They’re charming, to say the least, and will be winging their way (carefully wrapped, of course) to Jessica C!
Dana’s a designer, and she’s donating a pattern for her gorgeous Birthstone Cowl.
Isn’t it pretty? The whole series is a good idea, and I hope that Rachel C loves it. Why wouldn’t she?
You fellow knitter Terri (who is all kinds of amazing. You would love her) has gone into her stash and come up with some gifts that are ready to fly to new homes. What she’s wanting to pass along is amazing and generous. Hold on, here we go:
Terri has five skeins of this scrumptious Alchemy Haiku going to Nancy A.
Three skeins of this cashmere/silk laceweight is making its way to Carol W.
This skein of Zen Serenity lace now belongs to Jennifer W.
A whole big lot of Olmue cotton/rayon (I love those colours) are going to Claudia W.
A bunch of Manos Silk Blend is going to Diyang T.
Terri’s party doesn’t stop there – this skein of J Knits Lace-a-licious will be in the post to Jan C.
Last, but certainly not the least – a lovely skein of Handmaiden Sea Sock is on its way to Jamie G.
Do you all know Romi? Sure you do. (If you don’t, you can actually kiss an hour or two of your life goodbye flipping though her patterns. Addictive.) Here she is with some treats to share.
First up, a beautiful kit – a PDF copy of the completed Y3 7 Small Shawls eBook (7 small shawls + 4 other projects) with a skein of Sock yarn from Iridaceae Colorworks in Irisberry to knit the Sierra Lupine Scarf will be heading off to Jennifer K.
Romi doesn’t stop there- Debbie G will be getting the book to make whatever she wants.
and finally, Pam G and Robynn W will be getting PDF copies of her new book in progress: The Great Oddments Knitdown. (This is an amazing idea, by the way. A collection of gift-worthy projects that use up your little bits. Exciting.)
Next up, the folks over at Signature Needle Arts (you all know how I feel about Signature Needles) have three gifts to give away.
A convertible circular, in the size of Julia C’s choosing,
A set of single points (my favourites) in the size that’s Kyle P’s favourite.
And, a set of DPN’s just the way that Leah W likes them.
Nice, right? Next (oh yes, there’s more) Robynn Weldon has a pattern to give to Chris S and that’s not all – she’s throwing in the yarn to make it! It’s the Elfbaby hat, and a skein of Bonny by The Yarn Yard.
Last today (oh yeah, at least one more round after this one!) Lisa at Fairmount Fibers (they’re the nice people who distribute Manos yarns in the US) have a good one.
That’s a picture of one bundle (That’s ten skeins!) of Manos Silk Blend in Forget-me-not, but Gayle K can choose whatever colour her heart desires. I hope she’s thrilled.
Whew! See you tomorrow. Maybe by then I’ll have screwed up my knitting.