The yarn purchaser’s high

(subtitle:  “The high of the yarn purchaser”?  Or “The yarn purchaser is high (on yarn)”?  YOU decide!)

Sometimes, Sad –> Happy.

One person’s Sad can, in some cases, lead to another person’s Happy.

Example:  Chris’ Needlecrafts is closing.  Sad for Chris and the other employees and regular patrons, and sad for anyone who frequents the many awesome LYS’s in St. Louis.  (Even though I’d never been to this particular shop before, I can imagine how heartbroken I’d be if either of my local favorites went under.)

But for me, the sadness of the LYS closing is tempered by the happy of a going-out-of-business sale.

All yarns in the shop were 30% off, so this morning I hopped into my trusty Ahura and set off to go waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy down Olive, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy across town, for this fabled 30% off deal:

Talk about a journey!  I was sure to bring adequate provisions (I had a NutriGrain bar in my purse, and my steel water bottle in the cupholder).

When I found the yarn shop (aided only by  my own wits the stars the GPS in my phone, I called Mom and we began another round of our infamous Bi-City Shopping Experience.

(In which one of us calls the other and the one who’s in a shop begins describing in excruciating detail each item present, for the absentee person’s judgement and approval.  It’s an extreme sport, and pretty much the only way to shop “together” when you’re 250 miles apart.)

Some undetermined amount of time later, I was back home with this:

Above, of course, are the results of the BCSE.

And OMG, y’all.  Seriously, O.  M.  G.  I’ve never even come CLOSE to having a yarn shopping experience like this one.  It was life-changing.  I can suddenly see why people drive hundreds of miles to get to Rhinebeck, MDSW, Stitches East/West/Southcentral.

It was a high like I’ve never felt before.  And until I win the lottery, I’ll likely never feel again.

For you yarn-heads, all the details are on Rav.

For you non yarn-heads, just look at this, and understand:

(Noro Sakura)

Yarn is a drug. A dangerous, addictive, terrible, ….beautiful, enticing, soft, squishy….wonderful drug.

And unless you want to be confronted by 4 skeins of the softest alpaca in the world…

(Plymouth Yarns alpaca lace)
…you should stay away.

Far, far away from sock yarns that look like raspberries…

(Art Yarns Ultramerino 4)

Far, far away from this stuff, which is so soft you can’t help but cuddle it against your face…

(Debbie Bliss baby cashmerino)

For your own good, run away.  Now!  RUN!

Or just look at my waggy-tailed photographer’s assistant, instead:

Want to see what happens when I try to focus on her nose?

(Mere milliseconds after this photo was taken, she licked my lens).

Anyway, since I’d already gone waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy out west, I thought I’d hit up my favorite Marshall’s and TJ Maxx while I was at it.

I came away with the most DELICIOUS candle EVER.  I mean it.  In the entire history of candles, none have smelled as succulent as this:

Know why? Because it really, honest-to-goodness, smells like blueberry waffles.  It doesn’t smell like candle-that-smells-like-blueberry-waffles.  Oh, no.  It smells like blueberry-waffles-smushed-up-real-small-and-crammed-into-a-jar.  Yes.  YES.  Come visit me and we’ll pet yarn and smell this candle and I’ll bake you bread OK?

I also picked up the cutest little Polishware serving bowl:

I’m so in love with this stuff.  There’s a whole shop full of it in Lawrence, Kansas.  Next time Jeff and I go there, I’m going to buy all of it that I can get my grubby little hands on.  It’s the perfect aesthetic – sorta rustic, very homey, very cozy, and still pretty.  Like me, right?  Right?

Because I had all the elements RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME, I had to…

Anyone care for some alpaca casserole?


Perhaps a raspberry torte would be more to your liking:

Failing that, how about…uh…a big bowl of dishcloths?

(I’ve made approximately 80 bazillion dishcloths in my time, and for the first time ever, these are for ME and MY kitchen.)

I can’t come up with a real poignant or funny ending for this all-over-the-place post, so I’ll just say the same thing I do whenever I get off the phone with my mom:

OK that’s all I know.  ‘Bye.


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