I got mixed up in shop-stuff today and never did get the photos uploaded; now it's too late in the evening because everyone's clogging up the interwebs, getting their geek on. My poor little air-card can't take it. So, here's your last chance to bail before getting mired in the sad little story of 'Gullible's Travels'. You were warned.
Part One, in which our heroine confronts the possibility that everything she suspected about both yarn shops and "luxury hotels" is fictitious.
D-fly and I went to three yarn shops on the 18th of March. Ruhama's was surprisingly great, given the lack of interest I witnessed there last spring. I got good grope-time with loads of Colinette yarns, bought cute buttons, and made some cool discoveries. They remain one of my all-time fav shops. Koigu lives there, too. Next up, Loop...
Shockingly, the fun little shop on the corner in Bay View was no longer in Bay View, on a corner, or any fun. It has been moved and turned into some perverted gourmet yarn salon, with Ikea'd boxes stuffed with yarn and no chairs anywhere. I do seem to recall a bar stool, but it was behind the cash register counter, with a woman planted on it. The premise of this new location is strategically placed seating in the coffee shop next door. A symbiotic relationship. As all 'salons' are want to do, certain items were 'luxury priced' to make them more tantalizing for the unconscious consumer. I know what certain yarns "go for" and far be it from me to gig another shop for trying to make an extra buck... or six... on yarn that is, admittedly, tough to get enough of. Supply, demand, blah, blah, blah. Once D got me outside I stopped hyperventilating and looked down at my hands. Somehow I'd bought two more balls of that infuriating "Fixation" stretchy yarn. I've already done away with it, and it will never ensnare me again. It was, however, the most reasonably priced yarn in the whole place. Oy.
Then we were off to shop the last, the charming and packed to the rafters cave of fiber-y goodness known as Just 4 Ewe, in Oak Creek. Jan is the ringleader of this riot of color. She owns a circa 1914 sock knitting machine named Norman. It was here that I had to go back the next day, with spouse in tow. Jan gave me a demo and talked about what to look for if I should decide to hunt one down for my very own. I bought more Malabrigo yarn than the day before, picked up a seriously amazing sweater pattern, and had a wonderful time pawing all the rovings and silks for spinning. Across the way from her shop is Kaleidoscope Beads. I had to make two pilgrimages inside there, too. I came out with dichroic glass pendants both times. Lurve them.
After a fairly restful Wednesday, we were again at the mercy of the road on Thursday. Super-smart spouse managed to shave off about two hours of our journey, given that the 'rents live more toward the big lake and less in the middle of a national forest. Not having to traverse Wisconsin caddy-wampus makes a huge diff, as it turns out, and we arrived at the Hotel Chequamegon before nightfall... only to discover... that every single toilet in the entire hotel was routed between our bedroom walls, and that the pool filter gets a bad case of indigestion just after midnight... every night.
We had the "good rooms", the rooms with 14 foot ceilings and eight windows arching out over a view of the frozen lake. Just goes to show how little "luxury" can be had in the frozen north. Also, I would like to add there were no places to have one's eyebrows waxed, and no bars where you couldn't get a pizza or basket of fried fish with your drink. Also, there was a lot of plaid... and ear-flappy hats... and trucks parked on the lake with their drivers hunting fish (who are attracted to the freshly oxygenated water from the holes chipped in the ice and that yummy bait and all) on a sheet of friggen' ice (omigod,omigod,omigod). Do you know what that does to a person with an anxiety disorder? Do you? It seriously compromises her stash of meds, is what it does.
That is all I can type for tonight, as the pressing matter of sleep has to be dealt with. Tomorrow is another day, and all I can hope for is that I get some actual paperwork done. Or laundry. Clean undies might need to become a priority one issue. Latah, knittas.