Friday, August 05, 2005

the yarn basket

My grandma keeps a basket of yarn in her house. It is truly wonderful stuff. It is handspun wool. She keeps it in the guest room where I sleep when I stay over there. From its perch on the hand painted wooden bench, it mocks me. While it is only two skeins, it still cries out to me...."knit me......knit me". It is unattainable. Why, you might ask, does my grandmother keep beautiful, handspun wool in a basket in the spare bedroom where it mocks me hauntingly?

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Because she is evil I tell you. Pure evil.

1 comment:

TS said...

It's your knitting guru (aka Tante Soeur) I have something to tell you about that little basket of yarn and you might not like my making this public but that's the consequences of being a blogger, huh?
Your rotten father spun that stuff when you were just a toddler. He gave me those various experimental bits because I actually knit him a vest from some of his homespun. Though I love all yarn in some way, I hate your dad more than I love the stuff in that basket. I keep trying to get rid of it but Nana keeps pulling it out of the garbage. Guess it reminds her of those long ago times when your dad was trying to be nice to your mother.

Don't forget I love you lots and lots and lots.