Friday, February 1, 2008

just opened her throat and swallowed a goat...

I've spent the day splitting out balls of kidsilk crack haze and most assuredly will not require a fibrous dinner. In fact, I may need hairball medicine. The silk and kid mohair are both delectably soft, but as I'm standing directly over the ball winder, I'm catching more than just "yarn fumes". Rest assured, the kits will be free of excess loose hair, and the re-winding is fluffing out the silky strands ever so nicely. Now we're just waiting on the other five colors to ship from Westminster. *sigh*
Still working on the camera junk an' stuff. Got a memory card, which I thought would solve the problems. This woman, who was out shopping for her little Florida get-away, told me what I needed to know, and I set about taking pictures. On the second photo, I got a weird beep, on the third photo I was informed the camera required new batteries. Strange how uncooperative this horrid little pink camera is being. So I went and dug around in the computer for a bit...
Here's that photo of LeAnn and her pre-fulled wool hat. It turned out darling, and yes, LeAnn's hands are always blurry like that. When they aren't 'talking' they are knitting. Both versions are entertaining, but the knitting hands get more done.


She has also caught the sock bug, but is still at the frustrated, "rip it out and stomp it to death" phase (ie: approching the heel). Next will come the "crying and vengeful" attempts at setting it on fire, where, to her dismay, she will discover wool's self-extinguishing properties. After that will come the calm acceptance that she has to become one with the sheepy little ball of string, and, bleary-eyed and staggering, she will collapse into a chair in the shop, where she will conquer the sock in a battle of wills. This is how obsessed sock knitters are made. It's why sock yarn doesn't count as stash... it's the "spoils of war". Put that in your stash and smoke it. Latah, knittas. C

p.s. Miss G, the almighty pink-ness left last night; you should have it Saturday. You ready?

5 comments:

melly~ said...

heh heh
love the last line. you tell 'em sistah.
You know I'll miss you. Maybe you can find some peace in thinking about all the sand I'll get in my unmentionable places. Feel sorry for me? Didn't think so. :)
Bon voyage!

Robin said...

See I told you that stuff made hair-balls ~ beautiful hair-balls... but they still go down the same. You'll be pickin those little hairs from everywhere for days. I'm home recuperating from the slave-driver, in my sweats and warm, knitting my sock.
Rob

Dragonfly said...

mmm... yummy fuzzies.... ok, maybe not quite that tasty.

Thimbleanna said...

Pass the smellin' salts -- is that a PICTURE I see there??? I've fainted, so I'm not really sure! SOCK YARN DOESN'T COUNT AS STASH YARN??? Why the hell didn't you say so before NOW??? Gosh, I just can't keep these rules straight. I hope you sent the tightwads from your previous post to Wal-mart for their fabric -- ya get what you pay for!

Jaye said...

Glad to see the photos are back. Hope your photo issues are at an end! Just an idea to combat hairballs: a mask? the paper kind that you buy at your local hardware store or, god forbid, HomeDepot? Do you need me to send you some?