Sunday, March 25, 2012


The title refers to my poor feet, after more than 4 hours cruising around the Flea Market at the Fairgrounds. DiscoDame & I set out very early (about 7:15 a.m., an impossibly early time for Disco!) Friday, heading to the Threadfest -- but when we got there, the doors were locked, and it looked like nothing was set up inside. So both of pulled out our phones & checked calendars; I had it noted for Friday and again next Friday, and she had a reminder for next Friday. Well, what to do? Disco had seen that the Flea Market was on, so we scooted up the hill and proceeded to spend lots of dough while wearing ourselves to nubs. Concrete floors everywhere...but we had a good time and came home with goodies. However, I believe I'll have to skip the Threadfest, as I spent way too much for my fun. I did see one vendor's display of re-purposed old silver flatware, that had some handles worked into hairsticks, as well as other forms. My thought was,"Why not shawl sticks?" So, I mentioned that to the vendor--but since I didn't break down & buy one he might not change his sign.
I have finished unravelling the red-purple sweater, and discovered that my little swift (the "Almighty Reeling Machine") definitely has a weight limit. I had to pull the wound skein off, and rewind part of it, break the yarn, tie bits around that skein, and make another -- twice! The "umbrella" kept collapsing in slow motion, so the skeins were getting smaller around and developing bulges. It's good to know the limits of our equipment, I guess. So I now have three washed & dried skeins, and three unwashed. There's quite a bit of yarn here, and I've already looked at vest patterns. I'm thinking cables, with moss stitch and ribbing, and how lovely this crazy purple tweed will be in that form! And it will probably be a cardigan vest, though I've seen some nice slipover ones.

1 comment:

fleegle said...

I take it Disco is maybe your daughter? Give her 30 days to find a job and leave. Good grief. Now if Disco is your pet elephant, better cut her some slack. At least she made herself dinner.

And, um yeah, the shawls all go into a drawer. Sigh.