What's Wrong With This Picture?

Remember when you were a kid and you’d get those pairs of pictures that had subtle differences you had to detect? (Although, since they were intended for kids, the differences were usually about as subtle as “Umm….this one has a giant bear in the middle of it and this one is of a pasta maker…..this one’s an ocean scene and the other is a still life of fruit….” And so on.) Yeah…..this isn’t one of those. This is the picture:



…and what’s wrong with it (besides my abysmal knowledge of cameras, photography, and really anything that might make a permanent record of anything else) is that it represents a tiny—TINY—fraction of my supply of recycled yarn, unraveled from thrift store sweaters and waiting to be run through the meter and ball winder. The rich wine color stuff is 100% wool, the tweedy looking stuff is 100% lambswool (and achingly soft), the hairy stuff is a subtly striped mohair blend in autumn shades (it’s the striping that makes the balls of yarn appear to be different—they’re all the same stuff), and the pink is silk/wool blend and only partly unraveled (two sleeves of it are in the picture). What in the world could be wrong with me? I really can’t hazard a guess, but I suspect that it has something to do with a magic spell cast by an evil fairy who figured to keep me busy and away from the throne of the land by addicting me mercilessly to yarn. (Not bad, eh? Hey, rationalization is my middle name.) For the sake of my dignity I won’t explain how many other sweaters are waiting to be unraveled, but it’s not pretty. I usually unravel them while I’m on the exercise bike—do I get any virtue points for that?

No, I thought not. Really, it’s best not to encourage me. Already the exercise room is practically window deep in little yarn bits and my husband is afraid to wear sweaters in case I tear them off of him and start madly unraveling. (Oh, he SAYS he just doesn’t wear sweaters….but I don’t see how it’s even possible for anyone to not become joyously excited at the thought of a new, handknit sweater. Clearly, something is up.)

And, since it’s apparent from the above that I am sorely lacking in fibers with which to knit (yes, I should be embarrassed…..I fear that I’m past that stage and even past denial and into something far worse. That is, it seems normal to me.), I also got some yarn today in the mail from Little Knits.

I’m not sure how the color looks to you--it's looking orange on my monitor but really isn't orange at all--but it’s a subtle colorway of cinnamon, chocolate, and what I would call mahogany. (They call it brick; I don’t see it.) If you have the chance to buy from this place, run don’t walk. I got 5 skeins of Araucania Nature Wool, 240 yards per skein, for all of $33.61 with shipping, handling, and tax. It was on sale, but she seems to have lots of good sales. Even better—I ordered it last week, got an e-mail yesterday telling me it had been mailed, and it was in the mailbox today. I love this place.

And I have to include this photo of the Knitingale feline (perhaps that would be a kittengale? No….no…don’t encourage me on this, either. It will only get worse.), Miss Gracie helping me with my balls of yarn.

She still doesn’t understand why I bring so many cool toys into the house and then don’t let her play with them…..

I have 9 people interested in the exchange, which delights me to no end (almost as good as getting more yarn, seriously). Pat from Mystery Yarns in England weighed in, and I’m delighted to have her aboard. Check out her new blog, and drool with me over the lovely sweater she was working on in her first entry. Marianne has been helping me come up with some questions from the questionnaire, which got me to thinking (that was probably what you smelled…) that I really should ask you what kinds of things you want to know about the person you’ll be gifting. Send ‘em in, I’ll include ‘em.

Lastly, the good news/bad news scenario from school: I only missed one on my statistics test. (Cue triumphant music, a la Rocky or similar). However, there were only ten questions….so each was worth ten points….so I only got a 90%. (Cue wah—wah—wah sound, along with annoying announcer to intone with obscene happiness “Oh, I’m sorry! But thank you for playing!”) In Mr. Guilford’s class, it’s still an A, and I’ve been getting 100% on all my homework, and even Mr. G says that he thinks I’m well on my way to the necessary 4.0…but…..still…..it’s a 90%.

Perfectionist? Me? Whatever gave you that idea? Excuse me, while I go straighten all the pictures in the house with a laser level and then go over my homework for the fourth time….you understand.