Neither snow, nor bus strikes...

Neither snowstorms, traffic jams, bus strike nor athritic attacks shall get between a knitter and her stash. This was the lesson learned this past week as our wonderful customers graced our doors. My esteem for the hardy Canadian knitter/spinner/felter has risen immeasurably and we had to follow their incredible examples of courage and fortitude.

Despite our own winter battles with Arthur(itis), despite my giving in and having to resort to using my cane while my partner hobbled along beside me fighting her own demons, we resolutely drove to Montreal to (what else?) BUY YARN for the shop. Of course, we made one pit stop along the way, during which I dropped a comb out of my hair. My partner offered to bend down and kindly retrieve it for me, earning herself a knock across her already pained shins when I dropped the cane too! I don't think she's forgiven me for that yet.

Then, to ensure a total lack of forgiveness from anyone who might ever have loved me, we bought sock yarn. We had just finished reorganizing the entire shop to accomodate a forgotten shipment of sock yarn in a new floor-to-almost-ceiling display cabinet, we had been warned by all staff NOT to buy any sock yarn and what did we do? We bought sock yarn . The only good part of this part of the story is that said staff members do not read my blog and the shipment isn't coming for a couple of days, so I have a temporary reprieve. Perhaps the other good part is that I'm still computer-illiterate enough that I can't respond with all my prepared excuses if and when said staff does respond to this blog : ) In this vein, would the writer of a comment on my last post be kind enough to email me personally, please? I simply haven't had the time to figure out how to reply to your kind invitation!

After the sock yarn, we picked and plucked only the ripest, juiciest fruit off that most sinful yarn-tree for another 3 hours. We fully intend to tempt all the most incorruptible of crafters with orgasmic fibres and penny-pinching pickings.

At 4pm, we dragged ourselves back to the car and began our journey home. The light was fading fast and the snow was turning to icy rain. The CD player was blasting our favourite ABBA songs but even that couldn't drown out our thoughts. She, sitting there cringing about how she was going to explain all the sock yarns; me sitting there wondering how I was going to explain 20 more boxes of yarn being delivered this week... both of us revelling in the beauty of all that we had seen, felt and ordered. We, both knowing that after the expected expletives (in the privacy of the staff-room), would be observing that same sense of overwhelming pleasure which we all derive from the first gaze and carress we bestow on our treasures : )

And so, we begin the last couple of weeks of the year, trying desperately to finish all our hand-made gifts and looking forward to making some goodies for ourselves after the festivities. I have to thank all of our wonderful customers for having made the trek, having made us laugh until we cried, for sharing their creativity with us and having encouraged us with kind words, with wisdom and with patience. My personal thanks also to the other shops who have generously sent customers our way!

My heartfelt wishes for Health, Inspiration and Peace go out to you all.

Sex & the single ball.

If I can get through my preamble, the title (SEX) will become apparent and appreciated by any who have come across this phenomenon.

Any time you put a bunch of women together, you can expect the unexpected. We all have very different characters, are of very great age differences, from varied backgrounds and we all have very distinct quirks which need to be tamed in the public forum. Without naming names, there is the shy one, the prude, the extrovert, the eagle-eye, the butterfly, the clown, etc. We try very hard not to let these qualities surface, but sometimes, just sometimes, it becomes very difficult...

We love our customers to pieces, and frankly, can't understand why some shops would turn their noses up at these people. The most impressive are those who don't bother to hide their innermost feelings, especially about sex.

Today, we received a wonderful shipment of our signature niche - the ODD-BALLS. Upon arrival, utter restraint must be maintained not to jump up and hug the Purolator delivery guy (and he knows it, too). Then, with unrestrained anticipation, the scissors are found and the boxes opened. The moaning begins almost immediately, then the rocking back on one's heels, the starry gaze settles on the faces of the beholders, followed immediately by a tentative carress of the uppermost balls. The gentlest of touch as a ball is lifted slowly to the neck, allowing it to slide lovingly along the quivering pulse, comparing the sensation to the last ball to follow the path and already looking forward to the next one ... then, the fantasies truly begin, as the fingers begin to tingle and dreamy pictures of flowing colours swirl into gauzy, lacy, cuddly concoctions to soothe the soul...

We have all been guilty of these actions and thoughts, regardless of our otherwise well-hidden foibles, but the best part has always been - watching the customers do the same thing! There is nothing more enjoyable than sharing our passion with others who feel the same way : )

Sweet dreams...

Snob in a snit

So it finally hit me, what a blog is supposed to be... it's not that anyone is really going to read it, not that anyone really cares what is here. It's my rant, all mine.

Here's what has me in a snit. I've read about and heard from all sorts of people, all about how fun fur/eyelash yarns are out, hated and reviled. Then I read all about how everyone is tightening the budget, re-using, recycling and finding all sorts of innovative ways of being creative. So, I wonder, where's the missing link?

Everyone who knows me knows I'm a fibreSNOB and if I had my way, there wouldn't be any acrylic in my shop, in my closet or on my person. All that being said, I happen to love eyelash yarns. I love squishy soft blankets and afghans. I love the movement of the fur. I have never knitted or bought a scarf out of this yarn and wouldn't even if you paid me. BUT I can see me knitting a good classic worsted (like Diamond Tempo, 25% wool/75% acrylic) blanket doubled with a complementary long lash carry-along, just so I can have that softness. I can see me knitting some fluffy slippers with a sturdy wool/fun fur combo so I can be sweeping and polishing my newly refinished hardwood floors every time I walk on them (now that's the lazy way of cleaning!) or some fun mitts for that dusting I hate doing.

Why do we all have to throw away anything in our stashes which is no longer socially popular? Doesn't anyone realize that as soon as we've all destashed, some big-name designer is going to invent what I've just said, put out a hugely expensive "new" line of ultra-plush, environmentally friendly and virtually indestructible, chemical free cleaning paw-r-us patterns and we'll be flocking to be put on the waiting lists for the next available kits?

Now I've had my rant and I'm happy. I'll be using ALL the goodies in my stash and doing so proudly, after all, I bought the yarns because I liked them, not because anyone else thought they were popular at the time. I'm even going to ply some into my own spun wool and knit my dream afghan for my new couch...

Knitting for sanity

The past few weeks have been insanely busy, to say the least. The hours have flown by as quickly as the snowflakes and now I'm a little older but not necessarily wiser. Days are marked by the number of rows knitted, stitches dropped or patterns unravelled. Yet, the world continues to turn and the sweater keeps lengthening and somehow it will all turn out ok. It seems there is hope flowing from the needles.

As we await yet another snowstorm, the cotton yarns are starting to trickle into the shop and we're having a hard time concentrating on the last of the winter projects. I want to fondle every shade of the Egyptian cotton and carress every ball of Pima. I'm secretly crowing with glee when I see the other staff members (who aren't normally enthused by cottons, having had negative experiences early in their knitting years) beginning to appreciate the beauty and softness of the new arrivals, poring through the patterns and imagining themselves tempted by these new delights. I see the cottons as a light at the end of the winter tunnel, telling me we've survived another cold, dark, miserable season and a return of sunshine, colour and sanity!

So, according to my inner clock (and I'm infamous for travelling at high speeds down that river - De-Nile), spring is just around the corner. Maybe that's why Misses Valentine and Twinkle are going insane with their nesting preparations : ) They're driving me crazy with spring fever, trying to dig their way out of their house and into the boys' compound. Of course, hubby would have me committed if I accidentally had more bunnies before finding homes for a few of the current resident fibre-pets. Ok, so to save my marriage and sanity, I listed some on Kijiji but don't mind waiting until the right animal lovers come along.

Off to feed the hungry hoards and then knit a few more stitches...

I have so been looking forward to reaching kick-ass age, you know, that time in a woman's life when she can stop being politically correct because she has reached an age when she can say anything to anyone and they listen out of respect for her age and accumulated wisdom!! Yes, well... I haven't reached it yet. I'm still accumulating and the road is long. In the last few years I have to to learn about commercial leases, real estate lawyers, firing employees, web-site management and now blogs. When will I just be smart enough to sit and knit? I have certainly accumulated enough fibres and yarns to be able to open my own shop - oh yeah, I already did that too : ) One of these days I'm going to figure out how to knit and type at the same time!