Invasion!
The absolutely worst thing that can befall (is that a word?) a knitter, worse than simple things like dropped stitches, cats who play hockey with lace weight yarn, children who shout out random numbers when you're doing a 300 stitch cast on - that nameless terroristic event you believe will only happen to other knitters - well, it happened, and to me!
I was innocently knitting along on the Rosebud, which was going nicely, and quicker than I expected it would. Thinking I'd need it soon, I decided to wind another skein - and I found the skein had been neatly cut in several places, and checking the rest, found similar cuts on all but two of the remaining skeins - after much screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth - I girded myself for battle - but the enemy had retreated and were no where in sight, so my visions of wielding flamethrowers or doing battle with a large sword faded quickly. I needed a better battle plan - I would need to fight the enemy in its lair - so some espionage was in order.
Being slightly more intelligent than the average carpet beetle ( believing this was my only hope at this point) I made a quick mental inventory of the location of all woolens in the house. A quick race upstairs confirmed it - the pair of Regina gringasco skeins living in a basket on the bookcase in my bedroom - were cut to shreds - they had been there for several years while I made up my mind what they wanted to be, except for a trip downstairs to share a basket for a few days with the lavender cobweb. But there was still no sign of the enemy - though their headquarters must be nearby. Some place dark and forbidding, a place I rarely go - the depths of the closet!
Sitting on the floor in the corner of the closet, I advanced slowly, both hoping this was the source, and yet dreading what I'd find - the decrepit old green suitcase. I couldn't even remember what it held, it had been so long since I'd peeked inside. There it was - the infamous kilt - all wool, made in Scotland kilt that I've been hoarding for lo these many years (what was I thinking? that a famine would overtake the land and I'd quickly need some size 2 clothing?) - it had several holes, as did the ugly green wool and silk sweater from my earliest knitting days. Fortunately, the baby sweaters were done in acrylic and survived the assault.
For once, I am thankful I don't keep a large stash - just some odds and ends of leftover sock yarn are left - everything woolen washed and isolated in its own plastic bag, mothballs and lavender soap will be set in place, the new gossamer silk encased in several layers of protection - this battle is over and I can only hope the war is as well ...
In the meantime there is nothing else to be done -
I was innocently knitting along on the Rosebud, which was going nicely, and quicker than I expected it would. Thinking I'd need it soon, I decided to wind another skein - and I found the skein had been neatly cut in several places, and checking the rest, found similar cuts on all but two of the remaining skeins - after much screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth - I girded myself for battle - but the enemy had retreated and were no where in sight, so my visions of wielding flamethrowers or doing battle with a large sword faded quickly. I needed a better battle plan - I would need to fight the enemy in its lair - so some espionage was in order.
Being slightly more intelligent than the average carpet beetle ( believing this was my only hope at this point) I made a quick mental inventory of the location of all woolens in the house. A quick race upstairs confirmed it - the pair of Regina gringasco skeins living in a basket on the bookcase in my bedroom - were cut to shreds - they had been there for several years while I made up my mind what they wanted to be, except for a trip downstairs to share a basket for a few days with the lavender cobweb. But there was still no sign of the enemy - though their headquarters must be nearby. Some place dark and forbidding, a place I rarely go - the depths of the closet!
Sitting on the floor in the corner of the closet, I advanced slowly, both hoping this was the source, and yet dreading what I'd find - the decrepit old green suitcase. I couldn't even remember what it held, it had been so long since I'd peeked inside. There it was - the infamous kilt - all wool, made in Scotland kilt that I've been hoarding for lo these many years (what was I thinking? that a famine would overtake the land and I'd quickly need some size 2 clothing?) - it had several holes, as did the ugly green wool and silk sweater from my earliest knitting days. Fortunately, the baby sweaters were done in acrylic and survived the assault.
For once, I am thankful I don't keep a large stash - just some odds and ends of leftover sock yarn are left - everything woolen washed and isolated in its own plastic bag, mothballs and lavender soap will be set in place, the new gossamer silk encased in several layers of protection - this battle is over and I can only hope the war is as well ...
In the meantime there is nothing else to be done -
'Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crises'.
Elizabeth Zimmerman
posted by Silverthyme | Tuesday, March 14, 2006
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