Yesterday, late in the afternoon, Michael’s “40% off any one item” coupon made me interrupt my “putting it together” session. The coupon is like medicine, numbing the internal setup that normally controls my craft shop impulse buying. Michael’s is well informed about my shortcomings. Before I entered the store an overly ambitious clerk placed sunflower yellow four ply right next to the burgundy red I love.
I had intended to use the coupon for another brownish shade of bear face yarn. I didn’t need anything else. But suddenly a voice in my head said, “You haven’t knitted a bear with a yellow outfit yet.”
“That’s because I don’t have yellow yarn at home,” I answered. Then I walked away.
But within a couple of minutes I stood in front of the same shelf again. Sunflower skein in one hand and burgundy in the other.
“Don’t forget to buy the brown yarn you came for,” said the voice.
In the meantime, at home, the project bears and Tyana had come to an agreement about the numbering. The three new bears would draw needles. Whoever drew the longest needle would be number thirteen, the middle-sized needle would determine bear fourteen, and the short sock needle would go to bear fifteen. All I had to do was to finish sewing, knit three scarves, take a picture. Clean the kitchen table up. Put away purples and lavenders and make plans for sunflower yellow, burgundy red and toast brown.
P.S. About clothespins. I never travel without clothespins. They come in handy when I want to tie down a prop for a photograph (my bear for instance), keep hotel room curtains shut tight, hold together a bunch of notes, or dry a pair of socks overnight. At home I use them to clip Safeway plastic bags to my jeans waistband so I can carry around my yarn balls while knit-walking
I had intended to use the coupon for another brownish shade of bear face yarn. I didn’t need anything else. But suddenly a voice in my head said, “You haven’t knitted a bear with a yellow outfit yet.”
“That’s because I don’t have yellow yarn at home,” I answered. Then I walked away.
But within a couple of minutes I stood in front of the same shelf again. Sunflower skein in one hand and burgundy in the other.
“Don’t forget to buy the brown yarn you came for,” said the voice.
In the meantime, at home, the project bears and Tyana had come to an agreement about the numbering. The three new bears would draw needles. Whoever drew the longest needle would be number thirteen, the middle-sized needle would determine bear fourteen, and the short sock needle would go to bear fifteen. All I had to do was to finish sewing, knit three scarves, take a picture. Clean the kitchen table up. Put away purples and lavenders and make plans for sunflower yellow, burgundy red and toast brown.
P.S. About clothespins. I never travel without clothespins. They come in handy when I want to tie down a prop for a photograph (my bear for instance), keep hotel room curtains shut tight, hold together a bunch of notes, or dry a pair of socks overnight. At home I use them to clip Safeway plastic bags to my jeans waistband so I can carry around my yarn balls while knit-walking
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