I know that sometimes yarn is useful for things other than knitting.
With a ball of yarn, you can truss a turkey.
Decorate your sun hat with pom poms.
Stuff your bra.
Entertain the cat.
Lay down a straight line of carrot seeds.
Measure the distance from the front door to the back door.
Christo a lampshade.
Trip a bad guy running after your friend, E.T.
Rapel down the White Cliffs of Dover.
Lash a broken mast together and finish the Halifax/Marblehead race.
Bring the entire printing operation of the New York Times to a screaching tangled halt.
Sew the earth back together:
My friend Megan lives next door to a beautiful old piece of land that was bought up and subdivided by a heartless contractor. Despite a city wide protest, he's sticking five houses right in her back yard, and through it all, she has to endure the rumblings of construction from 7 am to 3 in the afternoon five days a week from this May to next. The crew is amiable enough, but they keep opening up great trenches around her house for sewer, cable, telephone, and well, you get the picture. She called me one day last week for an art emergency: she had decided that she needed to remind the guys that for all the coffee they brought her and the cookies she made them, that she still had a comment to make about the disruption to her life, and her mail delivery. I gave her a skein of yarn from the stash to "sew" the gash back together.
Everyone thought it was pretty funny the next day, until they had to get back to work, of course. But art had been made.
TNNA is an interesting place for a blogger, an internet-based
knitter such as I am, because here is a world apart, a doorway into the
interior of the country, by which I speak not of geography, but of the
knitters who have never seen a Clapotis, the squibs of the knit folk, I say lovingly.
I was knitting at the airport gate on the way home when I was suddenly surrounded by women who sat
down around me and all took out their knitting: fellow TNNA attendees, no doubt. I felt like a solitary
Canada Goose being joined in the lake by another flock as they
descended. As they settled in and pulled out their own work, they all
regarded Clapotis, and before anyone even said "Hi" they were all
wanting to know the yarn, the pattern, the needle size, the pattern,
that yarn, how do you spell that? C-L-A-P . . . It was a meeting of knit
cultures, and Clapotis and I were there to serve as ambassadors. Or perhaps my role was more like Hagrid's, delivering the news that they needed to become aware of their powers.
Clapotis update: 15 repeats in, 55 inches long, but I'm probably going to add 5 more, just for length, before I begin the decreases. I want this to be an hedonistic piece of knitting, absolutely luxurious to wrap about myself in, so on I go.
What, you are wondering, in the name of stockinette was I doing at TNNA? How had I managed to infiltrate the sanctum sanctorum of the yarn world? Can you guess?
Kate Gilbert and I, along with co-conspirators Irene and Mary, went to TNNA to thank the yarn companies, knitting designers, and fiber folks who have supported us so far in our new super secret project. Maybe you've heard a little bit about it already on some other blogs. Maybe you've figured it out from all the hints hanging around the place. Or maybe this is a surprise
It's a magazine. Online. Full of articles and professional photography and all manner of things we think make knitting (and the sister arts) all the fun that it is. We're hoping you'll think it's beautiful and inspiring and informative all at once. And it's free, except for the patterns which you buy if you want them. It's that simple.
I'm not going to talk a lot about it here before our August 1st launch, but you can get the whole scoop in the newsletter by sending an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. There's also a Ravelry group (with Jess and Casey's blessing) and of course, the website with little peeks everyday.
In our quest to prove the existence of Kidsilk Aura, Clapotis and I hopped on a plane Saturday to go to the source itself, the summer yarn market at TNNA. We wandered the cavernous reaches of the eighth wonder of the world that is the Columbus Convention Center. We admired many yarns, but we tarried not, for we were on a quest. We grew hungry and footsore, but still, we persisted.
And then a vision appeared: Nathania (who I would cast as the Lady of the Lake were I ever to need one). And she bestowed upon us a gift.
Two skeins of Kidsilk Aura.
And the quest was concluded. But just for fun I went to the Westminster booth anyway and asked the nice Rep if I could look at the colour cards. Alas, I have no photos of the gifting, nor of the cards themselves, because there are rules against photography on the floor at TNNA. So you'll just have to trust me on this one, if you dare.
Perhaps posed with the screen of today's twist collective (53) countdown will serve as proof enough:
Dispatches are coming in from all over about sightings of Kidsilk Aura. You have to be careful about these things, though. I mean, don't you know a guy who says that he knows someone who has been to the strip club hidden inside the Pirates of the Carribean ride at Disney? That's the nature of the urban myth, always one person removed from the alleged event. You really need to see these things for yourself before you can believe them. So I remain skeptical about the existence of Kidsilk Aura.
I need photographic proof.
Meanwhile, I'm knitting away on Clapotis. I've gotten one skein of the Brooks Farm knit into it, and I'm hoping to stumble across the ball winder sometime in the next few days so I can wind up another hank. It will have to be luck on my part that
1. I am free to look, and
2. That I also actually REMEMBER to look, at.the.same. time.
You see, the Boy is going through one of those enormously inconvenient phases in his particular version of Oedipal development where
1. He doesn't want me to leave the room he is in, and
2. He doesn't want to leave the kitchen.
I have to say this is not the best arrangement for my list of things to do, which is short, but easily accomplished. It is
1. Knit the stash down.
2. Don't eat all the food in the house.
Easily accomplished, that is, provided that I am not trapped. in. the. kitchen.
I have taken to marching him across the hall to the other bathroom so that I can look for the ball winder on the way there and back again, I have made paper airplanes and thrown them through the doorway so that we have to leave the room to go get the plane.
I haven't taken to burrowing through the baseboards to make a run for it quite yet, but I will say that the fig newtons are all gone. And I don't even like them very much.