I hate waiting for yarn. Hate hate hate it. I am clearly an instant gratification sort of person when it comes to yarn. When I order yarn online, I want it NOW. If this means that I am a childish sort of person, then so be it. I can't be the only one who feels this way. I keep checking the website to see what's going on, but all they can say is that they have notified the shipper. What does that mean? Given that Fox news (there is a sneer when I say the word "news" there, in case you can't see it) can give us the sordid details of any gossip that's happening anywhere in the world just as soon as it happens, you'd think I could get shipping details. Alas, no.
However, all was redeemed by a package from Stella -- I actually stopped being cranky about my yarn for a whole day! Go, Stella! Here it is:
Look at all that good stuff! Yarn, music (gotta love the music -- it made it onto my iPod as the inaugural album), bracelets for the girls (and do you see the cute little bags they came in?), and greenstone stitch markers for me (with an option to make one into a necklace). In case you can't see those, here's a closer shot:
Gorgeous color, no? I'll be using these on my drive knitting (heading up the state tonight -- 1,000 miles of driving this weekend; thank goodness for Harry Potter on audiobook!)
The sheep wrapping paper was a particularly nice touch. Although I have sheep issues. Big Sheep Issues. I keep gearing up to write about my Sheep Issues, but haven't quite gotten there yet. The sad thing is that I love wool. How can I so dislike the creatures that give us such a wonder fiber? It truly doesn't get better than wool -- fire-retardant, warm even when wet, springy, and light. Cotton is good, but not nearly so fun to knit with. But the animals which run around with this wool on their backs? Meh. Oh, all right. Here it is.
Once upon a time, there was a young girl and her younger brother. They lived in a big house on two acres with a barn and a corral in back. The neighbors had horses. The other neighbors had cows, and there were some peacocks and llamas and chickens in the neighborhood, but it's the horses we're interested in now. The girl and her brother wanted a horse. They really, really wanted a horse. They pointed out to their parents that there was a corral and a barn, and really what more could they possibly need to get a horse? These parents had grown up city dwellers -- real working-class urban folks, one in Jamaica, NY, and one in Woonsocket, RI. They had moved to this house with this land and this corral, I think, to give their kids a running-around-outside-without-getting-hit-by-cars kind of lifestyle, but farm animals were not their strong suit. How do I know this? I'll tell you how.
They came home one day with animals for the corral and barn. But the animals were not, alas, a horse. They were two sheep (to this day, the parents claim they have no idea what they were thinking when they bought the sheep). And I am here to tell you that, in the mathematics of the animal kingdom, two sheep do not make one horse. Really.
The girl and her brother tried to make do. But you can't ride sheep (ask me how I know). They don't like it. And they get lanolin all over your jeans, which is not nearly as romantic as saddle leather conditioner. They don't like to be petted, and they head butt dogs. Sheep are not horses.
If the girl had been the knitter she would one day become, this experience might have been different. But she wasn't, and here I am today, confessing publicly to a Sheep Aversion. I've tried to get over it. I've travelled to England, Scotland, Wales, and New Zealand. All sheepy sorts of places. I'm still not over it. But I'm trying. Put another quarter in the therapy jar, will ya?
P.S. I'm heading northward in a few hours to a place with no cell phone reception, and doubtful internet access. If you don't hear from me all weekend, that's why, but I'll be back Sunday night, so look for a post on Monday. Meanwhile, carry on without me.