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Welcome to my world...

Occasional musings on "life, the universe, and everything" from a fiber junkie.
 

August 18, 2008

Cursing the Code...

 

The Code of the Flower-Seller at the Sterling Renaissance Festival is very strict… if the sender of the flower wishes to remain anonymous, the seller will not reveal his/her/its identity.  This is especially true of the flower seller known as SkunkFlower (or Gabrielle in other settings).

 

Normally, this young lady’s devotion to her Code doesn’t have much impact on my life, but right now it’s making me crazy.  Last Saturday, the Splinter Clan once again visited Warwickshire in the year 1585, to frolic with dear friends too seldom seen.  After Lord Mayor Thomas Catesby introduced me to the crowd outside the gates as “Emissary of the Clan MacSheepie,” I made some flower delivery arrangements with the aforementioned SkunkFlower, then wandered down the lane and settled myself into my usual post at Splinters’ Corner.  A bit later, she approached me and presented me with a rose.  When I asked her who had sent it, her reply was “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

 

This was somewhat surprising, but at the time, I assumed it was just a specific dear friend being goofier than usual.  By the end of the day, though, my mind was completely boggled, as young SkunkFlower had returned to me on many occasions, each time placing her basket before me and asking, “What do you want?  What do you want?”  She seemed to be quite amused by my increasing confusion and cries of “Again?”  In the end, fifteen beautiful roses and a bunch of "Special Daisies" went home with me, where they brighten my living room tremendously. 

 

The part that’s making me crazy (okay, crazier than I usually am) is not knowing whom to thank for such a wonderful gift.  However, unless I can trick the information out of someone, it’s not likely that I’ll ever know for sure who was behind it.  Whoever you are, thank you!

 

It was a wonderful day all around.  The weather was perfect, sunny but slightly cool, with fresh breezes blowing through the Shire.  The performers were at their best, holding nothing back, as is customary on the closing weekend of the Festival.  At one point, I had the opportunity to chat with the new owner, and thanked him for the improvements he had made, bringing back some of the magic the festival seemed to have lost in recent years. 

 

Many fine folks stopped by at Splinters’ Corner to chat for a bit.  Kate, as usual, had a small flask of lusciousness that she shared with friends.  This time around, it was filled with something called Navan, a French cognac flavored with Madagascar vanilla.  Yum!  Kelly stopped by several times, once helping me to adjust portions of my attire, and in doing so completely shocked some civilians who happened to be passing by.  Can’t imagine why the sight of her on her knees with her hands up under my skirt, tugging at my chemise, bothered them so much…

 

My Demon Godson spent a fair bit of time with me, telling me a bit about his work at Sainte Marie Among the Iroquois (a local historical site), and offering some interesting speculations of his own about the source of the roses.  Several members of the long-ago troupe known as the Poor Folk were about the shire as well, and it was delightful to see Joe, Cheryl, Robin, Jeff and Michael again. 

 

Lord Mayor Thomas Catesby stopped by when his duties would permit, bringing Sheepie to visit with Mairi and Linnea, catching up on news of other friends not able to be present this year.  Still later, he and Catherine the minstrel stopped by and we all sang a few songs.  Yes, I sang my brains out, which has resulted in me having no voice to speak of (or with) today.   The Final Pubsing was truly magical, and saying farewell to my favorites among the Bless the Mark Players was as difficult as ever.

 

Another season has ended, the fine folk of Warwick scattered to the four winds.  As the song says, "Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain, for we may and might never all meet here again."

 

10:38 am edt

August 5, 2008

Here we go again...
 
What is it about summer that causes me to lose all connection with reality (at least as it concerns my knitting)?   There are five projects on needles at the moment, any one of which would keep me fully occupied in the few hours of the day that can be devoted to knitting.  Three of these projects are lace, one is a sweater, and the fifth is a sock.  Not too excessive, really, all things considered.
 
But.
 
As I look around my back room, I see four project bags staring back at me, each bulging with a sweater's worth of yarn.  Some insane thought process tells me, "You can finish those off this winter." 
 
Last Friday, Mystery Stole 4 began accepting signups.  With three sizable lace projects on needles, do I really need to launch myself into another one?  And just what does "need" have to do with it anyway?  There's a cone of Webs' tencel that needed a project assignment, and some beads in the cabinet that look like they'll work.  And since clues don't start coming until September, I should be able to finish those other lace projects first, right? 
 
Then a dear friend has been whimpering at me that she'd like to have a pair of hand-knit socks.  This by itself I could probably resist, but ... the friend's husband is a fabulous ceramic artist whose work I absolutely love.  She's suggested a barter - one of hubby's pots in exchange for socks.  Oooh, the temptation... 
 
Then there's Mmario, of MmarioKknits.  Evil tempter that he is (and I do like that in a person!), he's churning out gorgeous lace designs far faster than any individual human can knit them up.  Several of these are already printed out and tucked into project bags with the relevant yarns, just waiting for appropriate needles to be freed up.
 
So tell me, how do I manage to get through the entire "I wanna knit that!" list and still have time for minor little details like earning a living? 
 
Reality?  What's that?
 
 
9:06 am edt

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"Everything happens for a reason, except possibly football." -- Terry Pratchett