Urgent message from Chocolate Paradise (I am providing no link):
Sometimes, you’ll get stunned by the titanic amount of chocolate sources at hand.
Now that that is out of the way….
I went over to the llocal llama farm this morning. I actually took pictures, not that I can put them on my computer or the blog or anything, but I did take pictures. Jack was no help at all. He was terrifying the alpha male, who had never seen anything like a rambunctious three-year-old boy getting out of his stroller and exploring the barn. They actually sounded their llama alert noise, which Kathy said they usually only do for airplanes or other big scary things they don’t like. But the younger llamas and the babies came over to investigate.
Kathy had many many bags of llama fiber out in the barn, and gave me one to take home. I will be teaching myself to sort out all the guard hairs and VM. There are a lot of steps in the process. This is one of them. We will see what happens next.
[My life path at this point looks like a series of stepping stones positioned haphazardly across a ragged lawn. I am hopping to what I can leap to instead of pausing to figure out how to align the stones, recast the broken ones, countersink them below grade, etc. People from my deeper past (I can’t see you, but I know you’re there) know what kind of person this behavior made me. I’m trying to be different now.]
Last night I watched two episodes of Remington Steele (Mildred got her new Tandy computer, hooray!, and even in its first episode it did the impossible) and decided to attempt two repeats of the IHS instead of just one. Why don’t I ever listen to me? I may or may not have crossed my cables at row 6 instead of row 8. I can’t know for sure unless I proceed (and tink back 7 rows if I am wrong) or tink back 6 rows (and re-knit if I was right, and tink back two more and re-knit 8 more if I was wrong).
Either way, I’m not looking forward to that. I could blame the two glasses of local wine, or the sight of 27-year-old Pierce Brosnan vaulting a 6 foot fence while wearing a suit, or just place the blame square on my own head for rushing things. I always say that’s the biggest source of mistakes in hobbycraft, and now it’s my behind that got bit. Ouch.
I feel like I’ve knit myself into a corner. The IHS is maybe stalled, the Dianne hat is definitely stalled, and I’m afraid to even look at Tyrone for fear I’ll discover that I screwed that up too. So far I haven’t made any mistakes on the Red Scarf, but then again that pattern is pretty bulletproof. (Maybe I should compile a booklet of knitting patterns for those afflicted with memory loss. I could call it No Lace For You.)
So that’s where it all is. Feel free to send mojo, but maybe I should just take some time off from knitting.
P.S. Melanie, I *just* got the box of butternuts! Thank you!
