Thursday, August 25, 2005

I. Am. Broke. For various depressing DEEEEpressing reasons I won't go into, I. Am. Broke.

So when I went to a job interview yesterday (at the world's nicest bookstore, Davis-Kidd) because I. Am. Broke., I decided to stop off at our local knitting mecca, Yarns to Go. After all, just sitting there with some Lenny's chicken salad and crackers and knitting up your own yarn don't cost that much, right? I could finish up my mitred KPPPM kercheif in relative peace and quiet, free from my toddler who tries desperately hard to impale himself on my little size-one circulars. You know, the ones that are so sharp, they pierce the side of my pink naugahyde Hello Kitty purse? Yep. Those. They are so bloody sharp, they are banned in 22 states and 16 countries.

But I digress.

So I'm sitting there, chatting with Yarns to Go's manager, Jeff. I like Jeff. He's a nice guy and a really good knitter. But he gets me into trouble, you know, just by the nature of his being there. So I ask him, "What's really selling right now?" He said, "Not novelty yarns like eyelash." Whereupon I think--but don't say-- "About damn time." He then tells me that something called Misti is flying off the shelves. Flying. Can't keep it in. What's Misti, you say?

And herein lies the seemingly innocent start and I say to you, Dear Reader, you don't want to know. You're better off NOT knowing. You're better off just sitting there in your "acrylic is nice, marino is great, cashmere is best" mindset. You don't want to know.

But I'll tell you anyway, and no calling me Rent Girl after you try the stuff, cause you ain't gonna be blamin' me, you yarn junkie scum.

Here it is, already on the needles, folks. It is too good to touch my stash. My stash would defile it. My stash of cheap acrylic and wool would forever taint its essential heavenly purity. My stash would recoil from it's beauty.

One of the shop gals had piles of it on the counter, ringing herself up so she can make some pull-over cowls for a church bazaar. (She had requests from older paritioners to make something that would hide their turkey necks). She had it sitting on the counter, color after color, my favorite being the crimson. I looked at the price of the worsted, expecting a sticker shock. At $5.25 a skien, this stuff is waaaay too affordable, even for me to resist, even though I. Am. Broke. I cannot tell you the sheer surge of contentment and a feeling of wellbeing that enveloped me whilst holding this stuff. Prozac-schomozac, we'd have a lot happier bunch of people in this world if they would take up knitting and just hold some Misti alpaca. I sighed and told her, "This is like herion for fiber people." She laughed.

So. After mooning over it for a little while and after a trip to the restroom where I tried to collect myself and after picking up some half-price yarn and after reasoning with myself that I. Am. Broke., I still walked into their wool room (where they have all the natural fibers; very organized of them) and asked the clerk, "Where's the herion?" The lady standing next to her drew a blank look, but she just laughed and pointed. Bless her. Show me the way to financial destruction. The wide, wide, oh-so-comfy extra-extra-wide path to ruin.

I decided to buy the large bulky hank, I couldn't resist. It's not my favorite shade, a black and red-tinged combo, but I'm putting it together as a balaclava for a friend of mine who is my ginger-hookup in San Fran and he leans towards dark colors. He already has one out of some lovely maroon Superwash Brown Sheep, but my friends.... Alapca is heaven. Your fingers will never be the same.

God help us all...


Blogger Bast said...

Like it! I own two llamas myself, but am not a yarn junkie. Alpaca is very, very nice though. Hope you are all ok down there in Mississippi!

10:29 PM  

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