It's hot and it's not Friday

It must be the heat. I bought this Knitting magazine from England, and am going to try a pattern.


Mind you, I never quite got the metric system. They tried in junior high school (which shows how old I am – now it’s middle school), and it didn’t stick. But I love the pattern! And who knew there would be language issues -- yarn forward = yarn over, for example. And tension? No thanks, I get enough of that at work (hee hee).


And I got this neat yarn at Michael’s.


I usually don’t knit with anything acrylic, but this is Lion Brand Microspun, and it was only $3.99 skein, and I needed only 4. And the color is terrific! They call it mango, but I say it's coral.


Swatching has already begun.

The Rhode Island trip was wonderful. Liz’s apartment was nice (cleaner than mine would have been at age 21 – just ask my older sister!), we went to the beach, the RISD art museum, shopping, and to the movies. The highlight was watching Lizzie put away all of my Aunt Louise’s kitchenware, including her old, dented canister set.


I have many memories of good times and great food in auntie’s kitchen, and it makes me feel good to know that the tradition will continue.








Of course, I found a yarn store. In addition to sock yarn (unphotographed as of yet), I bought a bag! Ten bucks!

Which leads me to, bags in general. Am I the only knitter with a bag obsession? Maybe it’s not just a knitterly trait, either. I have briefcases. Brief-bags. Messenger bags. Tote bags. I just can’t resist buying new bags, even used-new bags at thrift stores. I counted. Big mistake. Including the obligatory lawyer-briefcases, and one trial case, I have a grand total of NINETEEN BAGS. Not purses, mind you (or pocketbooks as my Grandmother would call them). No, 19 bags – canvas, tapestry, cotton, leather, straw … you name it, I have it. And I always buy more. Of course, it makes it easier to hide UFOs in – they don’t stare at you like when they’re lurking on the couch, in baskets, or next to the bed. I can’t hear their guilt-inducing whines , “Finish me! No, me first, not the shawl. Not the sweater. Me me me!” when they’re pushed down into their canvas prisons. Oh, did I mention the “bag within a bag” syndrome? Little bags – with zippers, with drawstrings. You know, for socks in progress, needles, odds and ends. Those don’t count in the final tally.

When I die, bag me.