Sorry about that. It's the aftereffect of dozing in the Monster yet again, which this time had dire consequences. But more about that later.
You know, sometimes I don't realize my buying capacity. This is what arrived in yesterday's mail.
Gabby kindly consented to pose in this picture. She's been kind of cranky lately (one of those female things, I think), so this is the only picture she wanted to be in. Anyway, this picture contains Wooly Wonka Fibers in "Zinnias" (beautiful colors and slightly fatter than fingering, but not as fat as DK); YarnAddict Anni in "Plum Pie" (soft as a cloud); Keegan Lane Yarns (meliabella) in "Twilight Foliage" (the color blending is exquisite - and she kindly put it in two skeins for my two sock knitting); and Gentle Sunset Yarns in "Berry Banana Orange" (a gift because I was her first customer) and "Lettuce".
This second picture contains all Merlin The Cat Yarns.
The colors are "Grandma's Kitchen", "Tzara", and "Orange Nut". The put-ups on these are incredible - 560 yards on the superwash merino, and 430 yards on the superwash merino/bamboo/nylon blend (Tzara).
There was a SOTM yarn, too, but I couldn't show that.
Lastly for your yarny viewing pleasure, there are these two remarkable creatures.
These are by Greenfingers on Etsy. The goddesses are filled with herbs enclosed in a silk pouch so they don't leak out (oh geez, they smell heavenly). Her knitting is exquisite, the colorways on them move and swirl, and her construction techniques are beyond reproach. We're currently working on a custom goddess; I've always loved them, and I love the female form in it's natural state (read: curvy and not stick-thin). Do I swing like a tire in the breeze? No. I just appreciate beauty in all its forms.
So that's what I have to offer in the way of yarny happiness. The Yarn Fairy hasn't come yet, so it's anybody's guess what will show up today. I know I have a bunch of stuff that hasn't shown up yet, but I am proud to say that I haven't bought anything for a few days. We all have to start somewhere.
"Hello. My name is Pam, and I am a yarnaholic. It's been three days since I've partaken of yarn bingeing."
Now for the horror that was my night.
Actually, the night started out well. I had been knitting most of the day, and Hubster was up with me, so it was really pleasant. We went to the grocery store at a reasonable time (for us, anyway), and the plan was for him to BBQ chicken. I was making some cheesy pasta to go with it. I told him to give me about 20 minutes' warning before he took the bird off the spit so I could get the pasta going. No problem, right?
I fell asleep and he couldn't wake me up. Thank you, drugs.
I woke up just in time to eat. The Blond Love God had done everything - made the chicken, made the pasta, gotten everything ready for dinner, and all I had to do was get up, sit down, and eat. We eat off TV trays in front of the TV (we used to eat at the table a lot in our old home, but now our table is our desk - sigh), but it's comfortable because we have one of those ultra-thin wall-mounted TV's that's on a swivel arm that telescopes, so we can both eat in comfort in our respective chairs and see the TV without craning our necks. I digress.
He walked back into the kitchen. I fell back asleep. He couldn't wake me up again.
I woke up at 1:30 a.m. I hadn't eaten since the night before (I tend to eat once a day - it's just what I do), so I was ravenous. I was also pissed. The darling man had put my dinner in the oven, turned the oven on and off so it would stay hot but not get overcooked, and done everything possible he could think of so when I did wake up, I'd have a lovely dinner. I was pissed because I had slept through everything. Again. So I took my dinner out of the oven (it was hot), sat down, and took a bite.
The noodles were a congealed mass of cheesy shit, the chicken was as tough as my ass, and I was PISSED. Not at Hubster. I love the man more than life itself. I had ruined his dinner. He apologized for not being able to wake me, but he had no reason to apologize to me. Quite the contrary. It was entirely my fault. So at 2:30 a.m., I wound up eating an English muffin with ham on it while I watched Alfred Hitchcock with tears streaming down my face.
The tears were for two reasons. One, because I had ruined dinner for us. Two, because before I sat down to eat, I picked up my knitting to set it aside and noticed something.
I had dropped a stitch that had run down through a SSK on the previous row and something else on the row before that. That's when I burst into tears.
Now, had I not ruined dinner and not been in such a shitty mood, I would have sworn loudly, sat down, and fixed the problem. But it was compounded because these were my Monkey Socks. For my pal. And I had RUINED THEM. Obviously an overreaction, but you understand.
So I ate my crappy ham sandwich (the third or fourth night in a row I've had this particular meal), washed my hands, and sat down to tackle this problem.
Now, whenever I'm faced with a problem like this, all my years of knitting fly out the window and I'm convinced that I can't fix it, that it's ruined, and that I'll have to start the whole thing all over again. That's what I was thinking as I gazed at it.
After gazing at it for a while and turning it in all directions (don't let anyone tell you that stitches can't fall off bamboo needles - sticky my ass), I realized that I simply had to reconstruct the previous two rows and work the dropped stitch up through them. And that's what I did. Guess what? It took me two minutes to fix it. And the stitches weren't even stretched out of shape. Good as new. Whew.
Between then and now, I've fallen asleep again (I have to be somewhere at 6:00 p.m., so I don't think I'm going to get any more sleep), so I think I'll wait for the Yarn Fairy, get some things ready to mail, and then sit down to knit some more. Maybe I'll eat something, too. And have some coffee.
Maybe I do know how to knit after all.