I'm feeling "Much Better Now." (Does anyone else remember how John Astin's character on Night Court kept showing up, saying something completely bizarre, and then saying he was "much better now"? Or is it just me?) The sun is shining, spring has come, and life in general has emerged from the 'winter blahs.' A lot of my crafting blahs went along with them.
I've also realized that my enormous, can't-fit-completely-in-the-closet-anymore, big-@ss stash is distracting me too much.
Now, I have a short attention span. Not the type that needs new input every ten minutes, but the type that doesn't want to finish one sweater before starting another. So, I literally have over 60 projects that I have started and not yet finished. That does count all my crafts, though, not just knitting, and a handful of those are in my mostly-abandoned cross stitch stash. It doesn't count the many projects I bought the supplies for but managed to restrain myself from starting.
That's a lot of distraction.
So, I've started evaluating my stash, and packing a lot of it away to be stored indefinitely in the garage. So far I have four 70-gallon tubs filled with yarn, and I need another one or two. I also have four tubs filled with fiber stash, and a foot locker already in the garage. I'm still leaving a lot of yarn on the shelves, probably 2-3 years worth of projects. All of my sock yarn is staying in the house (except for leftovers). My Dale ski sweaters are packed away, but my lighter Dales are still inside. My Alice Starmore fair isle projects are inside.
I was discussing this scheme with a semi-crafty coworker, and she asked, "What if you don't get to the stuff in the garage?" I said, "Then I can get rid of them with a clear conscience."
Even though I'm not done with the Great Yarn Migration, I feel much calmer now. Less pressured.
And now I have room on those shelves for quilting fabric!
And Now for Something Completely Different
You know you're a spinner when, upon hearing that TomKat named their child Suri, not only do you think they've named the girl after an alpaca, you see nothing strange with that.
Last Saturday, my mother and I visited a yarn shop near her house that I'd never been to. As we walked in, the woman behind the counter told us they were having a "garage sale," and we should be sure to check it out. Apparently several of their customers had cleaned out their stashes and were offering them for sale. There was a huge pile of bags of yarn, mostly leftovers from finished projects. A bag of assorted sock yarn tempted me briefly. Mom scored a large back of pretty blue stuff. (I don't remember what it was, sorry.) Some of the labels looked older than me--we all know how things can 'age' in our stash.
I didn't find anything compelling in the yarn, but noticed a pile of books, and started to leaf through them. There were a couple of new ones, but most were older and a little worn.
And there it was.
I think I managed to hide my reaction, after my initial jaw drop. Mom says I looked very calm. I showed her the book, and she said, "Oh, Alice Starmore..."
I shushed her quickly, and asked the clerk about the price. The yarn was all marked, but the books weren't. She consulted a list and said, "That one isn't marked, so how about five dollars?"
So, that's how The Scottish Collection by Alice Starmore came to live with me. For five dollars.