Today is a day that will go down in infamy. It will be remembered as the day I got serious about my knitting. What made this day different from all the rest? I went shopping, people, shopping. But in a very different way.
Since I began knitting, the general shopping experience has been a formless and chaotic thing. I wander into a yarn shop, look at the bewildering array of yarns needles books and tools and let it sort of wash over me. Sometimes something would swim up to my notice out of the deep, other times some yarn or useful tool would leap out and assault me until I had to purchase it just to regain some inner peace. Then there's the stash, the ever-growing stash. It speaks to me. It forces me to bring home more yarn for it. It is hungry.
In Kitchen Confidential, author Tony Bourdain names the bread starter at one of his kitchens "The Bitch" based on both it's requirements and the difficulty of dealing with it. For those of you who don't know much about baking, starter must be "fed" regularly by adding small amounts of fresh ingredients to it, mostly to feed the yeasts and keep it risable and useful. "Feeding the Bitch" was the way he referred to the daily difficult task of dealing with the starter. Well, this is like unto my stash now, it demands feeding with new yarn in a way that makes me think I should name it soon. And although one could possibly more accurately compare it to Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors, it will more than likely be known and referred to hereafter as The Bitch.
So today I name the stash. This is not, however, where our story began. It began when I realized a very specific item was needed for a specific task, and with intent and focus I went shopping, found just the thing, bought it and only it, and came home, mission accomplished. Let me tell you, people, it was awesome.
I dared to enter the testosterone-laden halls of the temple. I moved easily amongst the giants of NASCAR fandom, Budweiser imbibement and plaid flannel. I strolled confidently past the giant stuffed mooses near the hunting and meat processing section and through the maze of clothing that was made by men, for men and which could only impress other men. And why this heroic (or psychotic) endeavour?
Because I knew that 50# test fishing line would make the best material for lifelines for lace knitting. And it does.
HA! Today is a day of greatness. Today I name myself as I never thought I would, and I never hoped I could.
And because I can hardly deny a project I am actually showing you pictures of, and also because now that I'm a bad-ass knitter I don't care if you all know, I can also admit that I joined this:
Now, for a well deserved beer.