On the way home from Sock Camp, K.T. and Alice and I stopped by the legendary Churchmouse Yarns. Even though I had completely blown my stash enhancement allowance, I managed to justify this as a birthday present to my inner knitter:
If buying it was wrong, I don't wanna be right. Would you believe it's made in the USA? Just in case owning it isn't enough to feel good about, I can tell myself that I'm supporting other American fiber artists, too.
One of the many things I noticed about myself as a knitter while at camp (where introspection is not only encouraged, it's required) is that I own very few whimsical little accessories. Like, none, actually. The other campers all kept appearing with gorgeous lace shawls, and beaded chokers, and embroidered i-pod cozies, while I appeared with nary a knitted personal embellishment. I have a couple of excuses for this: One is that the lion's share of my knitting is for work, and I haven't been called upon to work on that sort of thing professionally lately. Another is that I never thought of making anything like that just for fun before.
But Sivia and Maria both provided me with plenty of inspiration by wearing such pretty things, that I realized I could branch out, too. And then when I got home, I learned that my birthday party is a night out on the town this Saturday, with dressing up and everything. So there was absolutely no further procrastinating. I'm making lace:
It's fluffy, it's sparkly, it's in a color that makes me tingle. I'm almost halfway done, and no; Dirty Laundry, I can not hear you bellyaching that I've been gone a week and have another week away coming up. You are dead to me, yesterday's jeans and t-shirts. Today, I only have eyes for this.