A wool house.

Yesterday I was trouping across town on the streetcar with my knitting. There was a little blonde moppet sitting on her dad’s lap a couple of seats over and she was maybe…4? 5 years old? She turned around on his lap and looked at my knitting, then pulled on his coat and pointing at me said “Daddy! Daddy! That lady is knitting a sock!” Ahh, this must be the child of a knitter, to be able to correctly identify a sock in progress from 3 metres away? A hallmark of a wooly education. Now I know that the knitter is not the daddy, since he didn’t even turn his head to see what sort of sock I was knitting, and there’s no way that a knitter could have managed that. The knitter must be the mummy. I smiled at the little waif, and was wondering if I knew her mum, when she turned back to her dad and said…

“I wonder if that lady lives in a wool house too”.

I almost fell off the chair laughing. Who’s kid is this? Surely we know her…since she knits enough that her kid can adeptly pick out a work in progress, that her husband has seen so much wool that he doesn’t even turn his head anymore…and that they live in A WOOL HOUSE. Fess up. Which one of you is it?

I started the second of the MSF mittens this weekend.


Since this one looks exactly like the one before it I have included my cat for interest. Sadly, the cat isn’t doing anything interesting, but I have to believe that it’s better than me just showing you boring mundane pictures of the same damn mitten over and over again. I’m boring myself, so it’s got to be horrible for you.

I was pulled out of the depths of second mitten monotony by a beautiful RAOK from



These little stitch markers are very beautiful, and I laughed when I saw that they are PINK. This settles it. I’m jumping on the pink train. Thanks Colette!

Tonight I’ll continue working on the MSF mittens, though I’ve suddenly contracted a horrible tendency to fall asleep while knitting them. (I have an incredible urge to knit a bright purple stripe into them) Last night Sam came into the room where I was knitting. This room (like all the others, since I live in “a wool house” ) is full of yarn. Full. Completely overrun. There is yarn on the table, on my lap, on the bookcase, in the drawers….everywhere. Sam stepped over a pile of yarn, looked me dead in the eye, and said (with all seriousness)

“Mum, I’m trying to tie something up. Do we have anything in this house like string?”

42 thoughts on “A wool house.

  1. Sam was just being a very considerate daughter. Wool is NOT to be used for mundane things like tying something up. Can you imagine your face if she had pulled some random skein, told you what heinous use she was about to use it for, and then skipped merrily out of the room? Actually, I think I would have loved to see your face!
    Exquisite cat. And you may be bored with the mittens, but we (the royal we) are not!

  2. Evidence that your daughter is clever. Clearly, she recognized that despite the fact that yarn does possess certain qualities that might make one mistake it for a string-like substance, it exhibits those traits in a way that is so superior that it would be an INSULT to knitters everywhere and the yarn itself to suggest that it might make a decent string substitute.
    Also evidence that you’ve done an excellent job of raising your daughter in your wool house.

  3. First the wool house, then Sam’s comment… You totally made my day. 🙂 I can picture my daughter in both those girls’ place a few years from now. Today she just tried to eat my new Regia Tweed sock yarn.
    A wool house, that’s what mine is… Luckily my husband and I share our flat with another couple, so I have to (try to) keep my yarn in our bedroom. It’s getting harder, though. Today I went to buy yarn for one pair of socks, and came our from the LYS with enough for six or so pairs. A wool house indeed.

  4. Thank you for another moment of having to maintain the “I’m not reading anything not work-related on-line while I’m at work” face while holding back the laughter. I finally just gave in and laughed out loud. They already think I’m crazy.
    Maybe the inhabitants of your wool house have started developing a reverse forest-for-the-trees sort of mentality. Can’t see the individual trees for the overwhelming (but GOOD) forest.

  5. I’m sorry, I’m currently utterly distracted by that gorgeous, gorgeous cat. Serious competition for my Linus. How do you keep her from the wool? Or is it a forest-for-the-ree thing with the cat as well?

  6. Your cat is lovely, as is what I can see of the second mitten. And, no, yarn is nothing like string. None of the same properties, at all.

  7. Not a Wool House, but I do have a Wool Room.
    When we were planning our home, the architect had us name the various rooms we would like. Having decided the basics, my DH said “Oh – and a Wool Room. Some form of space, where I won’t be continually trip over the @#$%& stuff.” The architect took him seriously. It’s right there, on the plans. It clearly states “Wool Room.” Others might use is for storage, but we Harloteers know better.

  8. Where there is a wool pig, there must be a wool house. Sam knows that yarn is for knitting daughters hats, NOT for trying to tie something up!
    I’d be happy to guest blog on fiber dyeing sometime. But I have to dig myself out from under all the other work first (and coax my husband into taking some pictures during the process).

  9. This makes me think of the friend I’ve recently taught to knit. She has never once uttered the word “yarn”. We went to a very nice LYS to pick her up some needles, and she asked the owner of the store what kind of “string” she should start with. I nearly peed myself. And everytime we sit down to work on her project, she’ll slip in something like “I really love this string, the colors are so pretty” and I’ll giggle to myself. I figured everytime she heard me say “yarn” instead of string it would sink in, but…nah.
    Give Sam props for knowing that yarn is NOT string! Gosh, Harlot, you must have trained the kiddies well indeed, if they are searching around *your* house for something to TIE something up with and they don’t even suggest yarn.

  10. Ohhhh, I love Judith (the orig)’s husband AND architect!!! How cool is THAT? (even if it’s borne out of husband’s frustration….)

  11. Les Tricoteuses have hit another milestone! And Stephanie didn’t even have to take off her shoes. This is so wonderful. . .and I’m loving being a tricoteuse rather than just a plain old knitter

  12. Well, the Wool House clinches it. Someday I want to grow up and when I build my house, it will have specially pre-alloted spaces for half a reasonably sized LYS. Not because I could ever knit though all that. Just because.
    However, any husband of mine will be well trained to admire all yarn, even if it is not mine (you never know when it will become mine…). Just in case, you know, he sits with my kid on a streetcar and hears her saying that someone is knitting socks. I want him to look over at the sock knitter and admire her efforts… then try to discover her yarn supplier 😉 Or buy a spare ball. What could be better than to come home to a few balls of husband bought yarn just ’cause he thought of you?
    BTW. I looked over at the MSF total while my sandwich was en route to my mouth. So stunned was I, I paused and a bunch of tuna fell out onto the plate. Like a pin dropping. Wow.

  13. I think you should place a purple stripe in the mitten — maybe on the back of the thumb — it might be a sanity saver!

  14. I’m with Kat – my first thought was “Yeah, but what’s she trying to tie up?” At least she’s considerate enough to ask. Here they’d just run off with the ball of yarn, and I’d only know when I was cleaning up.
    And they’d take the good stuff!

  15. How can a cat looking majestic like this and these eyes ever be boring?
    The story with the little girl made me smile and think if my little one someday will behave this way.
    And like the other said, it was very smart of Sam not just to take some wool and ask you what she can use. She knows how much all the woolen stuff means to you and sure didnt want to bother you by taking the wrong stuff.

  16. I love the way you chose a backdrop that perfectly accentuates your beautiful cat’s eyes.
    Hummm, I think cats and knitting must go together. I’ve lost count of the number of knitting blogs that feature the occasional cat.

  17. I don’t think that cat likes having his/her picture taken…he/she looks totally bored with it all…but cats have that way, don’t they?
    Loved the story about the wool house…mine is getting there…
    My cats don’t bother with the yarn, but they love the knitting needles for some reason…I have teethmarks on a few of my bamboo ones…

  18. Too funny! My six year old asks (while holding up some yarn) if this is the GOOD string or not? (One day she got into some Colinette-we now understand GOOD STRING)

  19. have you come down from the ceiling yet? i get that comment at my house too, usually only after the bratlings have gotten into the yarn.

  20. Millie is darling, of course, and the other mitten is too. Even if you do knit a purple stripe into this one, I want them anyway, okay?
    You might recall my husband trying to compliment my spinning by saying what I’d done was too fine to call yarn, it should be called string… ah, well, it’s the thought that counts (“thread” darling, it’s “thread” when you’re trying to be very nice)

    There once was a harlot,
    who lived in a wool house.
    She had so much yarn,
    it caused the children to grouse.
    She came up with a plan to help her fellow man,
    and wondered if her readers could help too.
    She knit up some mittens (the Latvian kind),
    and watched in awe as the total just grew.
    And all because she asked, who knew?

  22. At least she knows not to use your wool to ‘tie something up’!
    I wonder if the look of the purple needles in the mittens is encouraging the desire to knit a purple stripe in?

  23. I’m waiting in great excitement and anticipation for the (discrete, of course) pictures of Steph dancing naked in the street.
    The cat is adorable – maybe the cat will dance naked with you? Actually, the cat would probably wind around your legs and trip you up in the middle of the snowy street – which would be even colder than being out there in the first place…

  24. I’m going to be purchasing a copy of Latvian Mittens for myself soon…does it use mostly worsted weight, or DK, or fingering? ‘Cause I want to order yarn at the same time and I’m not sure what to ask for.

  25. $50,000?!?!?!?!?!?!
    Imagine all the good that can…
    Totally speechless. Totally forgot what I intended to write. I am floored.
    Thank you for restoring my faith in humanity.

  26. Oh yes, DO put in a purple stripe!
    Mittens need not be identical to match! That purple stripe would be a reminder of the serendipitous joy of unexpected color.
    Helen, who loves purple, but wants the mittens even if you DON’T put in the stripe.

  27. I’m a bit out of touch with the state of my own house, I suppose. When I first read “Wool House” I pictured a felted house, like the candy house of the witch in Hansel and Gretel but warmer and not quite so tasty. And then I looked up from my computer. Noticed the bookcase filled with yarn. The bags of yarn tucked behind my reading chair. The other bag hidden behind the door. The boxes of roving stacked on top of other bookshelves. The huge basket of WIPS under the drawing board…the yarn in my bag, the yarn on my desktop… Okay… I think I live in a yarn house. There, I can admit it.

  28. I was knitting a sock in public once, and I child asked me if it was a sweater for a cat. Clearly, NOT the child of a knitter.

  29. Exactly what was she trying to tie up? Where are her sisters? The cat??
    Should we be worried?

  30. I love meeting interesting children.
    You are not boring me with your mitten. Part of the enjoyment for something like that is the ability to look at it, stroke it, fondle it, over and over. (I am talking about the MITTEN). But in this virtual format, I only get to do the first! So even though YOU have spent lots and lots of time with the mitten–I haven’t. So bring it on!

  31. When I read about Sam asking for string to tie something up, I immediately thought of the girls’ voodoo dolls. But then though, if she was up to no good, surely she would be clever enough NOT to ask you for string, without being prepared to answer why she would need it.
    The cat is beautiful. I’m a bit allergic, so our cats live in the shed. (They came with our house.)

  32. My almost twelve year old, knitting daughter still insists on calling her yarn ‘string’. Like this: “Mom, can you help me untangle my string…again?”

  33. I believe your cat is an angora. Very interesting.
    I am contemplating a children’s story about a little wild child who lived in a wild and wooly house.

  34. I have a tendency to call everything yarn (knitting seems to have taken over a large chunk of my brain) … my friend is teaching me how to embroider and thankfully has yet to laugh copiously at the fact that I keep referring to the embroidery thread as yarn …

  35. A bit late to the party with this comment, but just want to say that I really like that phrase about living in ‘a wool house’. I told my other half about your story today and he said, ‘you mean, like we do?’ Hmmm…

Comments are closed.