Strickgarnschnitzel: Clippings of knitting yarn.


Strickgarnschnitzel: Clippings of knitting yarn.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

No Knitty

Ah friends, after all that work, I didn't get my hat done in time to submit it to Knitty. But that's OK. It didn't quite turn out how I wamted it to, anyway, so I'm not sure I would have submitted it even if I HAD gotten it done. My biggest problem is still the lack of a digital camera, which means that if I'm running up to the wire on finishing my piece, I still have to take a roll of film (or hope there are only a couple pictures left on the one in the camera) and then pay for 1hr photo developing as well. Huge pain in the butt. HUGE. But you all don't really care, I'm sure. And that's OK.

It is all I can do to resist starting my Knitting Olympics project. But resist I shall. I know I'll have a digital camera by the opening ceremony. By the way, what ARE the opening ceremonies for the knitting olympics? I envision a woman, arm raised, clutching a pair of needles with a ball of yarn skewered at the tips. She's not running though, and believe me, she has no intention of letting that cashmere (for cashmere it is at the end of her needles) come anywhere near a fire. Instead she is walking up to another gal at her Stitch N Bitch, who calmly takes the needles and walks to the next gal. As each woman passes her needles, she stops, out of breath (with yarn lust, mind, not because the walk was vigorous), leans over, and then is handed a cup of coffee to quench her obvious thirst. The final woman to hold the needles walks up to a large bowl in the center of the room, proudly pulls the cashmere off the needles and sets it lovingly in the bowl with the other beautiful yarns, then raises her arms in triumph, shaking the needles at the heavens as though challenging the very gods to come down to earth and have a knit-off. Ah yes, Hercules... Odysseus... Achilles... all you great and powerful heros, come down here and we'll see who can finish a sock first! The ceremony finished, the athletes take their places around the circle, each with their equipment close at hand; needles, yarns, coffee... Let the games begin, ladies. Let the games begin.


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