Trenchwork

Just a little while ago, I walked down to the mailbox to see what junk mail had arrived for the day and walked back with a Global Priority envelope from Michigan. You have to understand that was a bit of a surprise; we don’t normally get real mail on Saturdays and I’d really only checked it because I’ve got a mailbag of books coming from home any time now. A bit distracted, I glanced at the customs label and realized it was probably from my Lace Swap pal . . . something I’d almost forgotten about over the course of this past week. I mean, I’d really enjoyed gathering things for my own swap package but I hadn’t really thought much about the incoming package, and this has been a bit of a rocky week; hubby spent most of it in the hospital and only came home last night. So, as I’m thinking about all the things I need to do this weekend to catch up with work, what do I find but a package that simply shouts that it’s going to be a distraction. The customs tag declared that it was yarn and paper. How nondescriptive that was! (And having sent international mail many times, I totally understand it.) It told me nothing of what was in that bag. Nor did I know Rae in Lansing, Michigan, but I figured that whoever she was, she was about to become a very good friend. (And bless her heart, but she didn’t settle for normal air mail; she posted the package Global Priority!)

(PS: Rae’s blog is here: http://extravayarnza.typepad.com/ Don’t let that white space fool you; the typepad format seems to be screwing up. Scroll down until you get past the white space and to the text.)

I tried very hard to maintain a semi-dignified walk back to the house, but I’m certain the neighbors would have sniggered a bit at the occasional jig that slipped out had they seen it (and I’m hoping they didn’t!). Safely inside, I opened the package and the first thing I saw was this bundle of brilliantly colored softness . . . I ooooohhed and aaaahhhed over the softness and Trond (hubby), who was sitting next to me simply had to see for himself. I remembered my pal had said she was going to hand-dye it, and I remember being suitably impressed. You see, I don’t dye yarn. Well, ok, I dyed one finished hat and scarf to hide the fact that I’d accidentally gotten two lots of the same color and there was indeed a difference in hue, but that’s different. I have absolutely no earthly idea how one gets all these lovely tones without having a tie-dyed mess. But the yarn itself . . . Do you remember the old Charmin bath tissue commercials? The ones with Mr Whipple running around telling folks that they mustn’t squeeze the Charmin? Somehow that’s how I feel. Not like Mr. Whipple, but like the person squeezing the Charmin. It has a wonderful springy bounce to it, and I can’t wait to get my hands into it for real. All 1200 yards of it. Rae’s note tells me it’s 50% merino and 50% tencel, but does not tell me how seductively squishy (how odd is it to combine those two terms?) the stuff is. The photo below doesn’t do it justice, but the colors are a combination of purples which verge to pink and greens which verge to turquoise. The yarn is fingering weight, spongey, and has a soft shine to it. Can you tell I’m totally hooked?

When the merino came out of the bag, so too did a sweet set of very girly stitch markers—a tool I’d discovered the absolute value of when I knitted the Seraphim shawl a little while ago and of which I’ve determined one can never have too many—and which Rae had made herself. Then, still in the shadows of the bag, I saw this ball of brown. It’s a cobweb 100% “fine wool” yarn from Skaska Designs and feels like 100% merino. There’s a slight fuzz to it, and a faint tweediness of blue in the dark brown and gold in the lighter tone, and a warm, mellow, earthy brown I’m in love with. It’s all I can do to prevent myself from unwinding the ball just to see how the color plays. But as I told Rae, that stuff is downright scary. I mean, I love the coloring, and it’s beautifully soft, but the idea that there’s 1200 yards in a ball smaller than a softball is simply frightening. Trond handled it and agreed about the softness, then looked at it and asked “how is that possible?” when he saw the yardage. I’m with him. I’m going to tuck this away for the moment; I’m treating it like a challenge. I may not yet be ready for cobweb weight right now, but you can bet I’m gonna get there just so I can use this on something! And I have no intention of that something being a give-away! Whatever I do with it, I’m keeping the sucker! Part of what makes that ball of Skaska so special is that I cannot get this kind of yarn here. Seriously. For the first time ever, one of the yarn stores had a few balls of Rowan Kid Silk Haze on the shelf, although it would probably be cheaper to order from stateside. Anything thinner than baby or fingering weight is really tough to come by, and I’m going to treasure this one.

Next out of the bag was Lucy Neatby’s Faroese Flower Shawl and a set of Crystal Palace bamboo needles. In order for folks to understand why I was laughing like a maniac and bouncing in my chair, you’d have to know that I’d seen that shawl pattern and decided it was on my “immediate knit” list. You’d also have to know that I’ve decided I want some wooden needles just for lace, and have never had the first pair. I can’t get over how much lighter they are compared to my metal needles. Rae could not have been any more on target than if I’d sent her my personal wish list.

I’ve already written Rae, but let me repeat myself for the general public: I cannot be more pleased. Rae proved herself to be a truly thoughtful and considerate swap partner, and I’m hoping very much that the package she gets is no less lovely and appropriate. Even Trond—who thinks the whole thing is slightly daffy anyway—was impressed. Certainly he was entertained by my own level of excitement and enjoyment. (I’ve decided that non-knitting spouses are a very tolerant and easily-amused breed.)

Now if I can just do as I promised myself and finish that UFO on my needles before I cast on the shawl, I’ll be proud of myself. Personally, I’m not holding my breath.