I'm in too deep

This is the one, you know, the one where the girl buys a bunch of beautiful yarn and is then intimidated by it and won't use it for fear she's not worthy.

Well, that sums up my weekend. I am in too deep to turn back now. I gotta crank out some beautiful hand-knitted items or I am never gonna live down what happened on Saturday.

But, let's back up a minute and consider Friday, that's the true start of the weekend after all, right?

On Friday I did nothing more than e-mail frantically to Needlefingers and Jenny from the Blog making big plans, talking about bamboo needles and dreaming via the typed word. I managed to work myself into a complete yarn frenzy and it wasn't even Saturday yet.

So, what did I do after work? I went to buy needles of course. Bamboo needles. (Everyone say, "Oooooooh!") They weren't for me, but for my fellow yarn shoppers. After a little needle shopping (sounds like we all have "habit" and enable each others' need for "needles"), Cynical and I had big plans to meet for an early dinner before we went to see "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum", a musical comedy that lasted over THREE hours. Lots of fun, but hard to endure for two people who had already endured a long week.

What did I do while waiting for Cynical at the restaurant? I know you are dying to know: I knitted. Yes, I started another scarf. It's going to be a very scarfy Christmas it seems.

The next morning I arose early, thinking I'd be ready in plenty of time to meet the fellow Knitkateers in Evansville. However, true to Saturday tradition, I piddled most of the morning away and had to dash to make it in time. Luckily I drove like the wind and ended up having time for a quiet breakfast at Barnes & Noble, where I sipped on my Pumpkin & Spice latte, flipped through knitting books for inspiration, and nibbled on a bagel. It was so quiet and so peaceful. Isn't it always before the storm hits. . . . the yarn shopping storm that is.

Jennifer and Needlefingers slipped into B&N and from then on out, there was never a dull or quiet moment. (Just the way I like it!)

I had not met Jenny before, but I immediately felt as if I knew her, not only from the stories Needlefingers has shared, but from her site and e-mails as well. I knew she was good folk, but whenever she brought out the bag of cherry flavored Tootsie Roll pops, I knew she was of high quality!

After a little more book consideration, we hit the trail for the first of three yarn shoppes. (I like shoppe instead of shop, seems so quaint and British, doesn't it?)

We walked in the door of our first stop and I was immediately overwhelmed. Yarn here. Yarn there. Yarn everywhere. This was no Hobby Lobby. This was yarn heaven. I was not in Kansas any more. Red, yellow, black, chartreuse and white. I had no idea where to begin. What does any overwhelmed and frightened mammal do: they join the pack. So, I stuck close to Needlefingers and Jennifer. I once was taken away from the safety of the pack by a shifty sales clerk, but I managed to fight my way out of the danger zone.

Our second stop was across town, so that gave me a chance to catch my breath. And then. . . we entered the site of my downfall. (The first downfall that is.) It was Mecca. (I know you thought Target was Mecca, but I feel it has been displaced.) Knitting books in hand, I managed to find yarn for several projects including two scarves for myself, a baby hat for Princess S and a scarf to match my wool coat. It's "a little for you, a little for me" shopping.

I will post photos of my beautiful yarn purchases tomorrow. I shot several last night, but the lighting didn't do them justice.

I left, little green bag in hand, ready to knit. (Hot and hungry, but ready to knit.) Our next stop was sustenance, however. Yarn shopping had taken a lot out of all of us, with all of the oooohing and cooooing. It's a hard life.

Olive Garden refreshed us (even if they refused to serve raspberry tea). We were ready for our next stop.

The Village Knitter proved to be the site of my second leap into the deep water that is knitting. What intrigued me this time was the center of the shop, where sat knitters clicking their needles and chatting away as they made creations all their own. I loved that camaraderie. I loved the familiarity they shared. So, I found what I needed for the remainder of my projects there (later finding the poncho yarn at Michael's).

Eventually we wrapped up our day. I drove home alone, a trunk of yarn bounty. Panic set in. Questions began whirring in my ears. What would I start first? What have I done? I can't yarn-over. Is there a rehab for this? Can't Needlefingers just move and become my own private knitting tutor? Do I need to seek professional help for this? What will Cynical say? Will I be allowed to enter the house with all of this wool and goodness?

I made it home, safe and sound. No falling on the floor. No hyperventilating. I showed my finds to Cynical who sat pale and worried.

I stayed up knitting in an effort to ward off all of my fears. I settled in to sleep and then. . . the tornado sirens went off. I take these things seriously and immediately headed to the basement, trying to lure Cynical and the cats. Why is it that any other time I am nearly knocked down as I enter the basement by curious felines. This time, it was if I was inviting them to their death.

In January 2000, a tornado hit our community, coming very near, within a block in fact, to my house. Izzie and I laid on the stairs to my apartment covered in a blanket scared to death. I made this move after looking out the window and seeing debris fly by and the rain go horizontal. Like I said, we take this stuff seriously.

So, this weekend two storms threatened our happy home: first the yarn storm that we may never recover from and secondly a rain storm that threatened my sleep.

The photo above was shot in Kansas City (tired of KC photos yet?) I thought it was appropriate given that I have a long climb ahead if I am ever gonna use all this yarn and make all of the projects on my plate.