It’s the last day to get any of my sock patterns for $4.00.
The sale ends tonight!
So while we were on our impromptu pizza run, we just sort of happened to stumble into two yarn stores. They were (more or less) on the way home. And really, it’s not a trip unless you get some commemorative yarn, right?
The first was City Knits in Detroit. It’s in a gorgeous building and was full of lots of lovely yarn. My resolve remained strong, and I bought only one skein of yarn. It’s not even for me. The Boy saw some Misty Alpaca Hand Paint Sock yarn in a dreamy light blue/gray (color 05 for those looking for a poetic name) and was taken with it so it followed us home. I also picked up some of those clever little 4 inch gizmos that have a crochet hook on one end and a knitting needle on the other end. I’ve been wanting something like that to keep in my project bag and I was unreasonably glad to see they really exist.
The second store was Knit A Round in Ann Arbor. There I was, alas, less restrained. I bought enough yarn for four pairs of socks. I could say that all the sock yarn was on sale. I could say that it was yarn I hadn’t seen at my local store. I could even say it’s a business expense. Those are all true, but the heart of it was that it was all just drop dead gorgeous, and I was simply overcome with lust.
The first treat was two skeins of Knit One Crochet Too’s Crock-O-Dye, one in pink and one in gray. I’ve never seen or even heard of this yarn before, but I have a feeling I will love it. It’s just a bit thick (so it should work up quickly), and has a dash of silk for softness and nylon for strength. The second was AslanTrends Santa Fe in Indigos. It’s another wool/nylon blend with a good heft, a nice sproingy feel, and really lovely deep colors. The final goody was some Malabrigo Sock in Indiecita. I had heard about this but hadn’t ever laid hands on it. The color was just too yummy to pass up. I’m not sure it will turn into socks (I’ve heard mixed reviews about its durability) but it will doubtless become something marvelous.
Perhaps confession will be good for the soul, and I’ll stay on the yarn wagon for a while after this little indulgence. Or not.
I’ve been dreadfully delinquent and shamefully slow in posting the winner of the truly scrumptious Liberty’s Yarn. It’s all my fault, and I don’t have particularly good excuses. I’ll go pick knots out of laceweight for penance. Without further delay, the lucky winner is Tamara. I’ll be in touch to arrange delivery.
Thanks to everyone who said nice things about Sybaritic, I’m thrilled you guys like this one! All the sock patterns are still on sale through Monday night, so if there’s something you’ve been considering, this is the time.
I believe in traditions. Traditions are important. They help remind you who you are. Now that said, I really don’t believe you need to borrow anyone else’s traditions, you’re far better off making up your own. And so it is with the Thanksgiving Pizza.
About a year before The Boy and I married, we (or it may have been just me) suffered from a bout of hysteria and decided it would be ‘fun’ to have 9 of our closest relatives over for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Now this might actually have been fun if the insanity hadn’t set it. I think now that I wanted desperately to seem like a ‘real’ grownup, and two things crystallized in my mind as to how I could do that.
The first was the apartment. It had to be spotless. We cleaned for a week. We bought furniture. We used touch-up paint. We hired maids to come scrub the baseboards and windows. Now it was all clean, but the apartment building was old and ill maintained. No amount of scrubbing in this world will make up for 80 years of poor treatment. You cannot scrub a crack out of a window nor a dent out of a floor nor are you going to successfully polish the 18 coats of paint on a rusty radiator to a glossy shine. You can have very very clean baseboards, but the lumps of dust they painted over 10 years ago are still going to be lumps. I realize this now (I have a 90 year old house, it was realize this or go insane), but it was a challenging concept at first.
The second was the food. We made a feast. The kind with 3 types of stuffing and 4 pies and a dozen side dishes and a bird the size of a small asteroid. But the apartment thwarted us here too. The kitchen was tiny. Imagine a strip of floor 2 feet wide and 5 feet long with cabinets and appliances on the long sides and a window and doorway on the short sides. You could stand in the middle, reach out your arms, and touch either pair of walls without moving your feet. The refrigerator only opened partway because the door bumped into the stove. Most of the food lived in a cabinet in the hallway because there was no pantry, and most of the dishes lived in a cabinet in the dining room because there were almost no cabinets. Of course, there was no dishwasher.
Now we did it, and we survived. We fed everyone tasty food, off of good china, at one table, in a spotless apartment. There were decorations and music and wine and a good time was had by all. But after everyone went home, as we surveyed the wreckage and mentally totted up the time and money we’d spent putting it together, we turned to each other and said, “next year we’re getting pizza.” Thus the tradition was born.
We’ve gotten pizza on Thanksgiving every year since (this year was the sixth). We’ve made our own, we’ve had it delivered, we’ve driven out in a blinding snowstorm to fetch it. Sometimes we’ve been out of the country and had the fun of tracking down something resembling pizza wherever we were. It’s a tradition, we must follow it.
Now this year, we were almost thwarted. We broke with tradition and did a quick thing with Boy’s family in the afternoon. As we were headed home, we went past at least half a dozen pizza joints…all closed. We had two choices, we could admit defeat (unthinkable), or we could make our own pizza (not really keeping with the spirit of the thing). And then, a third alternative presented itself.
We could go north.
Canada doesn’t close all of its pizza joints for American Thanksgiving. We ran inside, grabbed clothes, toothbrushes, and passports, fed the cats, and were back out the door and on the road in 15 minutes or less. Three and a half hours later, we rolled into Windsor, strolled into a pizza place just before 11, and had our traditional feast – complete with beer and the mandatory festive toast. We stayed the night, got up the next morning, and meandered our way slowly homeward (stopping at 2 breweries, 2 yarn stores, and the one and only Lumberjack Restaurant on the way).
Traditions matter. They remind you who you are. We are the crazy people fleeing to Canada in search of pizza.
I…um…accidentally fled the country in search of the Traditional Thanksgiving Pizza. I’ll be back home later this evening and will explain all that, but in the meantime, I’m having a sale.
All sock patterns are $4.00 from now until Monday evening.
Avoid the lines and the infuriating Christmas music, stay home and knit in your pajamas instead. It’s better for your sanity and your feet.
- November 25, 2009
Thanks so much for all of the really lovely comments about the most recent socks! They seem to be a favorite, and I can’t wait to see them knit up in lots of lovely yarns. I had every intention of announcing the winner of the prize yarn today, but the random number site I usually use is having hiccups, so I’ll have to try again tomorrow.