This is the coolest thing to happen at the Becher haus today, as everyone else spent it barfing or gagging, or otherwise making an unholy mess of themselves. Five sick kids, reader... ugh. That's about all I can say, oh, and send chocolate. Or at least chocolate wishes. Pure sugar is what I live on at times like these. Mostly because it does not look like barf. This blog is acting up today, so I'm going to just post another pic:

This is 'old Kaffe' waiting for 'new Kaffe' to show up, though I'm not expecting the Westminster order to show up for a few weeks. After the holiday I'll be placing multiple orders for far more yarn and fabric that I can possibly display at this time. If the children are much improved tomorrow, I can ditch them on daddy and go out 'fixture hunting' at a few of my favorite junque stores. I'm hoping to find just a few sturdy, not too ugly, old bookcases to slap some white paint on (or not, if they have character) to line the room with.

Lastly, I purchased the mother of all travel cases for the Wisconsin adventure, and couldn't wait to get it home to convert it into a knitting bag. All those keen pockets and zippered openings and handy elastics to restrain errant gew-gaws and such. Well, as I lay contemplating the move from all my little bag-ettes into the grande dame, I began to worry. If all of my tools and circular needles are in one place, I stand to lose a lot if it's misplaced or *gasp* kidnapped. So, dear reader, what would you do? Rhonda, I know you're hyperventilating and getting all hivey at the horrific query I just made... put your head down till you feel better. Okay now? Good. Here's the Grande Dame herself...

Isn't she gi-nor-mous? Like a big, pink hippopotamus. One who is fully capable of carrying a goodly amount of knitting without complaint, (there is room in Main Compartment for a baby's sweater-full of yarn, plus a few socks in progress, which I shall call SIP from now on.) but I shudder to think what I'd do if I lost it. or if she burped out a favorite gadget somewhere along our travels. Anyhow, I'm going to go bleach down the kitchen now, and wash some more laundry... and get 2nd sock off the needles and onto Eli's feet, the poor, sick baby. Knit on.

a good yarn goes home

It's amazing. I made the trip home in near-record time. The scary fuel monitor on Bill's Jeep completely freaked me out four miles before the exit I was GOING to take ANYWAY, so there was a little prayin' an' barganin' with " oh, sweet Jesus, just let me get to the Thornton's station and I'll really, REALLY try to be good" and various other attempts to get the gas thing to not leave me stranded on the freeway off-ramp. This morning Bill left for work at 4:45 and with him were six skeins of alpaca that I'd been selfishly hoarding. When purchased I KNEW they should be Rhonda's, as she knits such lovely lace patterns, but I kept holding out... I REALLY wanted the yummy, caramel and toffee colored luvvies for myself. Selfish, rotten knitter. I do hear by swear that I will no longer viciously hoard the stash. Mostly. Unless incapacitated by mental illness or sleep deprivation. And speaking of, I've noticed that my posts seem to be time-tagged at ghastly hours of the morning. That is a falsehood. This bloggy-blog-blog appears to be posted FOUR HOURS before it actually occurs... I just didn't want anyone who knows me to think I was really mentally ill for being able to type before noon. Except today, since I've been up since 3:38 with a sinus headache. I came home last night to the cottonwood and aspen trees pollinating, so today I'm staying in my jammies and I'm knitting the monkey socks, which I fell in lust with in Lex yesterday. Lotusknitter had them at the gathering of the Harlot's faithful. More on the incredible women I met yesterday after the coffee kicks in... and the percocet... and possibly a G&T, if the pain meds don't cooperate.