MY walk on the wild tide

I was given an inexplicably beautiful gift yesterday... it's so gorgeous I've been carrying it around the house like a little furry bunny/kitten/sleeping baby. It nestles in the crook of my arm and I stroke it's silken strands and coo soft words to it. This is a gift not to be trifled with... this is a gift of yarn. A 'club member's only' yarn, from a club that shall remain unnamed, but those of you who know the crazy that is me also know my not-so-secret heartache about 'the sock club'. Rhonda, you are a lovely, yarn loving friend, and the most understanding, when secret stash enhancement maneuvers are called for. I may go to knitter's hell (you know, the place where all the yarn is cheap 70's acrylic and you knit the same dishcloth over and over, Sisyphus-style, for all eternity) for the last adventure, but it was totally worth it, and I'd do it again... heck, I'd even WALK there. The silkie-yarn is so soft and luminous... that's really the only word that I can think of. Thank you, generous knitter. I am not worthy of the fibers bestowed upon me, but I'm sure going to have one bodacious pair of socks out of it. Yummy.