yarnporn.com

If you’ve visited my other blog you’ve seen this.

Which means you understand that I’m reduced to knitting bulky acrylic yarn on large bamboo needles which have proven to be virtually indestructible and sewing. I just don’t tend to spin bulky yarn, I could break into the mohair I suppose and knit a lacy scarf but I tend to frog a lot when deciding on lace patterns and don’t want to torment the yarn in that way.

I have yet to devise a Lexi proofed system for knitting. I think it’s going to require moving all my knitting stuff into our bedroom or digging a super secret underground yarn and needle bunker under the house. Lexi is quite sneaky and very cunning, in order to thwart her plan for world yarn domination I must think like a three year old.

Anyway, my darling husband is good at consoling me so he bought me a book to keep me entertained as I start rebuilding my knitting needle collection. The book is Omiyage by Kumiko Sudo. Matt knew that I’ve been trying to talk myself out of buying this book for at least the past two years. He is also smart enough to figure out that this required a trip to the fabric store for supplies. Clever clever man! (It will still not get him out of digging my underground knitting bunker.)

I love the projects so much, I’m working on the Avalanche Lily pattern and have made two different babies, and have a distinct need for a new pin cushion, and all the pictures are so beautiful and the instructions are so clear. I got distracted (inspired) yesterday to sew some pretty knitting and spinning related gear. If we can keep the camera and sewing machine away from Lexi I’ll take some pictures to post when I’m finished (ha ha, I jest, I’m at the mercy of a three year old.)

I finally have a doctors appointment for my migraines, and I’m worried that if the headaches go away so will my insomnia, and with the insomnia my creativity. If next week I am boring and uncreative, and I start following patterns stitch by stitch– promise me that you’ll hide my medicine and keep me sleep deprived. Please?

If I even look at a plastic canvas toilet paper cover– kill me.

I know it’s not good to feel brain twisting pressure behind one’s right eye and not sleep, but aren’t all the greats somewhat off kilter or tormented in some way? There was Monet, going blind. Mozart, deaf. Opal, yarn dysmorphic disorder.