two weeks already?

En route to my weekly nail beautification appointment this morning, I heard on the radio that Someone has discovered that as you age, a certain enzyme in the brain starts to decrease. It seems that the scientific Someone also discovered that it is this particular enzyme that acts as the 'little voice' in your head that keeps you from saying Inappropriate Things. What can we conclude from this? I apparently was thirteen going on thirty, which would account for my current, enzyme-deficient adjusted age of 56. This also explains several branches of my family tree. I'm just grate4ful (heh, heh. I love new nails!) to have a bona fide excuse, because letting people assume I'm always a wretchedly rude old battle-axe was growing tiresome. Nevermind that I 'prolly deserved it.

New yarns have been arriving in the shop. The 100% silk 'Alchemy' yarns are glorious. Knitting a mitered scarf, the "tres tres chic kerchief" in their Silken Straw as a shop sample. It's the kind of yarn that requires a certain level of nakedness to be properly appreciated. If you can't make it to your LYS to fondle firsthand, you have my sympathies. The Silk Purse yarn is the stuff of dreams. Also recently added are yarns from The Fibre Company. Excellent stuff, espcially the 'Road to China' and 'Organik' yarns. My 'February Lady' sweater is being knit in 'Organik' color 'crater lake'. It might be the best, non-pilling, merino/silk/baby alpaca blend ever. Evah. Srsly.

New knitters have been joining the ranks of the hand-craftily superior in droves. I think Clementine has been personally responsible, especially as she has thrown several cr*cheters at me. I can't help those people. I did order in some special yarn, for those hooker-y types. My allegiance has to end there. Do not ask me to sort out your loopy yarn mess. I. Don't. Know. How.
See, confession is good for the soul. All better now.

Last tidbit for the day... if you are in or near the Ft. Wayne area on the evening of October 17th, be advised that I, your intrepid fiber hostess, will be (forcibly) performing a bellydance. In public. With an audience. Of multiple humans. There is more to be said on this subject, but I cannot bring myself to type the words aloud without whisky, and I have to drive home in an hour. Suffice it to say, there are (in my case), leather and feathers involved. Why do I feel a youtube video coming on? Oh yeah... 'cuz it'll likely be up five minutes after we finish performing.

No, I'm not slurring... yet

No photos. I have to burp the camera of it's many and varied collected snaps, and really, aside from the Magnificent Short-row Heels I just completed on some shockingly pink Koigu, there ain't all that much to see. Oh, 'Pickle' has fully consumed the second ball of Malabrigo, so a dip into the yarn stash ('search and rescue', to be more accurate) for ball #3 will be required this evening. Love the cables. Easy pattern to memorize. Even with the PVC adhesive fumes leaking in from the construction project next door. Not to worry, once the dizziness wears off, so does the urge to faint/puke/cry. The upside is that the weather has been gorgeous, so having the shop doors propped open hasn't been a hardship. See, I'm *such* a 'Pollyanna'. I can play the "glad game" all. damn. day. Cuz' I have the Bushmill's. And a spanking cute La Push, WA shot glass. Be prepared. With a penis, I'd have been a hell of a Boy Scout.

I'm gonna go tend to my socks now, as they are appallingly pink and in dire need of more ribbing. Toe-ups often become high-maintenance, which may cause them to become anklets in this instance. Don't push me. I may be re-dedicating myself to the simple beauty of the after-thought heel once these damn pinky-pies are off needles.