We Heart Yarn Goes Shopping

Our entire blog had a field trip to a yarn sale this weekend. It was tre fabu, don't you ladies think? Abundant Yarn, one of the newest of the new yarn stores in our fair city, had a store-wide end-of-the-year blow-out sale, and it was quite the sale. We all met there at about 10:15 am (the sale started at 10), and shopped until we were overcome with hunger and exhaustion. We then all got scones and coffee (except E, who drank steamed milk), and stitched-and-bitched. Three of us were working on socks, E and I on Jaywalkers, and NK on traditional socks, and J was starting Kiri. The NeuroKnitter and I had a swap (a book for an amazing haul of yarn - thanks NK!), and we all succeeded in avoiding any housework or cooking that needed to be done for the holiday. Thanks, ladies - I, for one, really needed that session.

As a New Year's Day present to myself, I finished my Jaywalkers in Socks that Rock Fluorite. They are blocking as I write, which is why they are not hugging my cold feet today. What was once:














Are now these:




































I immediately cast on some socks that I have been meaning to make for, oh, about eight months - Opal Tiger Socks for my main man:











The yarn was originally purchased clandestinely during a self-imposed yarn diet, with the honorable intention of making them for S. There is honor in breaking a diet for someone else. For instance, even when you are "dieting," if someone you love "needs" cookies, wouldn't you bake them for her? And, to be sure all is well, wouldn't you taste the batter to make sure it is okay, and then of course you have to taste the finished product, just to make sure they aren't nasty, and OF COURSE, you have to share in the cookies with your loved one, because no one likes to eat cookies alone (okay, that is a blatant lie, I know it is, WHO CARES?!). You aren't actually breaking the diet, are you? I didn't think so.

Anyway, S's birthday was 25 November, and they were supposed to be a present for that. When I failed to cast on, or even look at the yarn in October or November, I knew he wasn't getting any tiger socks for his 30th. Okay, I told myself, so Christmas it is. I lazed my way through November, knitting what I damn well pleased, and when I finally looked at the calendar and realized it was December 13th, and we were leaving the next morning on a week-long trip, and I had to pack, and cast on some Jaywalkers, I admitted to myself that he was most likely NOT getting tiger socks for Christmas. Plus, the yarn is skinny. Like, size one needle skinny. I have grown to love Socks that Rock, and Koigu. Sock yarns that work with the size twos. Using size one bamboo needles is like using toothpicks - you keep poking yourself in the fingertips, they bend so precariously that you think you will snap one in half with a misplaced knit stitch, and they are difficult to find when dropped - I have almost impaled myself looking for one in the carpet. You know how they just kind of land, pointing right at your foot? Like they are pissed that you would even THINK to use them to knit something other than a heel every now and again.

Someone that I work with was in my office earlier, and said "My sister got that exact same shawl in black for Christmas," referring of course to Kiri, because I do wear her every single day. He later admitted to not knowing if it was the exact same shawl, but was pretty sure it was store-bought. Which opens up the question: is it a complement or an insult to have your hand-knits compared to store-bought ones? Does it raise your talent to a higher ground to be compared to something purchased at the mall, or does it stomp all of that work straight into the ground? I suppose it depends on what kind of store-bought the fruits of your labor are being compared to - there is a big difference between Wal-Mart (gross!) and boutique.