I have had a horror of a week. HORROR. Marcus managed to stay home on the first day back with a fever, went to school on Tuesday and Wednesday and by that night had been diagnosed with croup and prescribed steroids. No school for the rest of the week. Then Dot caught it. Our little poppet has never had croup and she's sleeping badly, almost choking every night. It's heartbreaking, it really is.
Still, I promised stash and stash I have. To answer the question: was a 5.5 hour drive really worth it? Oh hell yes! Chantal and I left at stupid o'clock and we still weren't the first there!
The sale was held at the back of the mill and while it was cold and early it was full of very desperate knitters, ourselves included. There were boxes of yarn everywhere and we threw ourselves into rummaging. Sadly, it was mostly acrylic. Now, acrylic has it's place in other knitter's stashes but I don't like it. It burns my hands when I knit with it, and I always swore I'd never go lower than 75% natural fiber in a yarn, no matter what.
Meet what.
This yarn was in a massive cardboard box and I took one look at the glorious orange and grey combination and said "Oooooooooo, gimme!". I grabbed every ball I could find in that colour and then saw the next desirable one.
Isn't it GORGEOUS?!? I saw, I coveted, I grabbed every ball they had. This may not sound too bad, until you learn that the two colours added up to 52 balls of 50% wool, 50% acrylic. Only 37 metres per ball, too.
Oops.
I stuffed a bag full and went back to rummaging, which is how I found the three ply Dreamtime. If you can resist baby yarn in 100% wool, you're a stronger knitter than I. I bought four packets of ten balls. It was $5 a packet, could you say no?!?
Then we discovered the center of the room. The Danger Zone.
Rowan. $40 a pack of 10 balls. Oh sweet baby Jesus, the whole trip was worth it for that.
I grabbed a packet of Siena 4ply to make this cardigan, because I can look adorable, dammit!
Then Chantal bought me a packet of Felted Tweed as petrol money. I love Chantal. Who needs petrol when you can have yarn, right?
So for about 12 hours I was giddily happy, followed by Marcus with a fever at 4am.
Reality sucks, but hey...
I'm getting closer to swimming in the stuff.
Still, I promised stash and stash I have. To answer the question: was a 5.5 hour drive really worth it? Oh hell yes! Chantal and I left at stupid o'clock and we still weren't the first there!
The sale was held at the back of the mill and while it was cold and early it was full of very desperate knitters, ourselves included. There were boxes of yarn everywhere and we threw ourselves into rummaging. Sadly, it was mostly acrylic. Now, acrylic has it's place in other knitter's stashes but I don't like it. It burns my hands when I knit with it, and I always swore I'd never go lower than 75% natural fiber in a yarn, no matter what.
Meet what.
This yarn was in a massive cardboard box and I took one look at the glorious orange and grey combination and said "Oooooooooo, gimme!". I grabbed every ball I could find in that colour and then saw the next desirable one.
Isn't it GORGEOUS?!? I saw, I coveted, I grabbed every ball they had. This may not sound too bad, until you learn that the two colours added up to 52 balls of 50% wool, 50% acrylic. Only 37 metres per ball, too.
Oops.
I stuffed a bag full and went back to rummaging, which is how I found the three ply Dreamtime. If you can resist baby yarn in 100% wool, you're a stronger knitter than I. I bought four packets of ten balls. It was $5 a packet, could you say no?!?
Then we discovered the center of the room. The Danger Zone.
Rowan. $40 a pack of 10 balls. Oh sweet baby Jesus, the whole trip was worth it for that.
I grabbed a packet of Siena 4ply to make this cardigan, because I can look adorable, dammit!
Then Chantal bought me a packet of Felted Tweed as petrol money. I love Chantal. Who needs petrol when you can have yarn, right?
So for about 12 hours I was giddily happy, followed by Marcus with a fever at 4am.
Reality sucks, but hey...
I'm getting closer to swimming in the stuff.
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