So my “core” group at work went out today for lunch, a burger shop across the street from A Store Which Will Not Be Named. I was salivating just looking at it and it wasn't all about the burgers. After lunch, the rest of them went to one of the other little shops on the block so I went to ASWWNBN.
Front table: tiny cotton sweater in gorgeous summer colors (1 or 2 skeins required, depending on size) with the pattern beside it. That’s all that was on the table—one pattern--the display pattern--and several piles of the yarn in different colors. Very feng shui, if you ask me.
Perfect little shrug for Ruby. Cool. What the heck? Make one for Isabelle and Emily too, while I’m at it. (Did I mention I just bought yarn at Stitches South and don't really need any more but .... it IS yarn we're talking about and I'm relatively helpless in its presence.)
I pick up two skeins (coral if it matters, which would be beautiful with Ruby's blue eyes) and ask one of the two people behind the counter (no one in the store but them and me): “Where will I find this pattern? Or is this your last one?”
“Don’t know – you need to look in the patterns.”
“Okay—where are they?”
(Pointing) “Over there, in those binders.”
(Rifling through binders) “Okay—hmmmmm, there aren’t any of these patterns with the other children’s patterns. Do you have more?”
“Nope.”
“Okay—so you don’t have any copies of the pattern on display with all that yarn?”
“Guess not”
“Okay—thank you for your help. Good bye.”
Did I mention there were NO other customers in the shop?
Well, poot! I tried.
First, for the record, I am in love with ... nay, impassioned by ... Malabrigo sock yarn. All Malabrigo sock yarn. I don't think I've found the color yet that doesn't make my throwing finger itch to cast on a sock. Any sock. All socks.
My most favorite used to be Archangel. Archangel has a mixture of all those reds that call my name with little hints, glints even, of gold. Fabulous. Truly like an archangel at sunset.
After that, Tiziano. Deep, vibrant, screaming blood red.
Finally [drum roll, please] Botticelli. Botticelli Red, to be exact, but, to be exact, it's not exactly red. More like red wine with a little soda. So, like a Renaissance wine spritzer.
Or the color of the pinky-red in the painting above. (And by the way, yes, that DOES look a little like the Stitches South slumber party in the lobby of the Waverly Hotel last week, but without the bunny slippers.)
In fact, Botticelli-color. A color that should be in a stained glass window of the Virgin Mary in a magnificent Italian cathedral.
Okay, I'm done. You get it. I love this yarn. (Are you seeing a trend? Why do I keep buying red sock yarn? Why did I buy Sedona by Lisa Souza for a pair of socks and Blackberries, the color of a squished blackberry on your hand on a a hot summer day, also by Lisa Souza, for a shawl? Could it by any chance relate to my mother's admonition that "nice girls don't wear red"? Nah, surely not.)
So, why, why, why, doesn't Botticelli want to be a sock?
First, I tried a lacy toe-up sock from Wendy Johnson's first book. No go. Frog.
Next, Nutkin, toe-up. Whoops, heel's too tight. Frog, reknit with more stitches on the instep.
Nutkin, more stitches. Whoops, cuff's too tight. Frog, reknit with more stitches on the cuff.
Nope, not working.
Botticelli's showing its age by this point. The yarn, like the knitter, is showing a little fraying around the edges.
Last night, cast on a pattern from Wendy's new book. (Rosebud, if it matters.) No, no, no.
Sivia's Cherry Blossom pattern. No, nein, nyet.
I don't think Botticelli wants to be worn on the feet. Maybe it wants to be a shawlette. Hmmmm. We'll see.
In the meantime, I'll just hold it close to my face and purr.
