Wednesday, October 26, 2005


I Fall to Pieces

And it would seem that all it takes to make me into a large blubbering mess is one of these:

A Brushstroke Batt from Indigo Moon Farm. Want to see more?

Somehow I knew you would.

Please note the Grip of Death (tm). I am completely unworthy to spin this beauty, however I do believe that they'll eventually have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

This lovely creature is 50% alpaca (so I think we all know who sent it, si?), 25% silk and 25% merino.

Should I ever be fortunate enough to meet the woman who dyed this, I shall more than likely propose. Or faint, or something.

I opened the box, looked at the fibre, felt the fibre and (of course) smelled the fibre. Read the note and bawled.

So yeah. Seems I can take the domestic disputing, the assmonkeys on the phone, the bill collectors, the littlegirls, the car repairs and the occasional uppity physician, but do something nice for me and I'm a mess.

Dude. And all this because I sent her a box of green Cheviot and a face cloth.

And because she rocks.

OHMIGODOHMIGOD! Girl! See? You got some rockin' friends!

I'm all the way in Georgia and all I can do is drool.

BTW, my lovely rabbitchy bloggy friend sent me some yarn that has become some lovely (if I say so) fingerless mitts. With enough left over to add to a Dulaan hat.

I *have* met the woman who dyes that stuff. She is lovely and charming. She also told me that the batts are repeatable, so if you decide you need more for a certain project...
O man. Do you think if I sent her some green cheviot and a washcloth she'd do the same for me? I mean the batt would match my green-with-envy face 'n' everything.
I love the balance in these two posts. One shows your artistic and sensitive side and the other...well your ironclad logic on the porn v. opera phenom....
Frickin' gorgeous!

(I also cannot abide opera; it's because I'm sensitive to stupid storylines. The music, however, lovely.)
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