This is my friend.

This is my friend and me.

Her name is Catherine. With a C. She goes by Katie. She has an impossible to pronounce and spell Italian surname. After six years of friendship, I think I've finally got it.




My friend Catherine with a C is different than me.



She likes to wear shoes like these:





Shoes that she is very excited about, but that you probably couldn't pay me to wear.

I call them red vegan elf shoes. "Katie, are you wearing canvas tennis shoes or the red vegan elf shoes tonight?"



Katie's the kind of person who makes faces like this at the camera and then says to me, "Stop sniffing my hair."



Katie likes to wear blue eye shadow. She talks to strangers.


She likes to challenge me with statements like, "My stretch marks are worse than your stretch marks," even though she is about 103 pounds and 5'1" without the red vegan elf shoes. She likes to say she's 5'3", but she's not. 

She tells me these things in an effort to get me to show her my stretch marks.



In fact, she dares me to show her my stretch marks.

We like to argue about the really important topics in life.




I don't believe stretch marks are apropos for a bench on a busy street, waiting for a cab. But then, I'm not Catherine with a C.




She's pleased to have provoked a reaction out of me.



Which is all just a cover for how hilarious and ridiculous it is to be having this conversation, thousands of miles from home on a bench on a busy street when we've slept for three hours in as many days.  One of us while wearing red vegan elf shoes the entire time.

People walking by stop and stare.



Later in the hotel, Katie demands that we compare stretch marks so that she can prove that her 103 pound self has it worse off than I do. In her mind, we each have three children, so we're comparing apples to apples. I point out that she's younger. She points out that she had twins.  I point out that I gave birth to nearly thirty pounds of children, and she claims that because she is smaller, her skin had less available surface area to stretch.

Later on the street, I stop Katie to take her picture. "Wait," I say, "let me take a picture of you!"






Oh yes. Oh yes I did.

I ask Katie to take my picture. This is what she took. On purpose.



Katie is the kind of friend who packs a French press and special Italian espresso in her carry on luggage. When you stay in a hotel together, she crawls into bed with you in the morning to talk.

Katie is the kind of friend who insists that you buy the big bag of miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And also three different varieties of Dove Chocolates while you're at it.


Katie is the kind of friend who rents a villa in Tuscany and invites you to come along.

Katie is the kind of friend who will talk your ear off about things like how many pairs of scissors are in her house.

Katie always has a can-do attitude and an open, friendly demeanor.

Katie and I can discuss things like religion and politics for hours from a purely intellectual standpoint.

Katie can make me interested in topics I didn't know I was interested in. She once spent two hours telling me how to brew beer, which I don't even like to drink. But she's so knowledgeable and enthusiastic, you can't help but find it fascinating. 

Katie is my perfect foil -- she is nearly everything I am not. She's the kind of friend you can show your stretch marks to, and she'll say, "No way, mine are so much worse than that! Look at my belly button, it's all misshapen!"

And she gets to go on a cruise tomorrow with just her husband while her parents watch her kids. Which reminds me of another thing that Katie is: LUCKY.

P.S. Katie and I own Yarn Love together.

I think I'll keep her.

Have you seen this woman?

Or this woman?



Or this woman?



I have a secret.

I am secretly harboring fugitives.

I hear Sock Puppet Allison (exhibit 1) and her sister BettyNocha (part of exhibit 2) are wanted in seven states, Canada, and Norway.

I hear Sock Puppet Allison and BettyNocha are part of a large international spy ring.

I hear Sock Puppet Allison and BettyNocha are of unsavory character.

I hear Sock Puppet Allison and BettyNocha  are...

very odd looking.

It's the hair, I think?

What have you heard about them?

I know something you don’t know.

Yes indeedy.



Something about colors.



Something about new colors.



Something about club colors.

In fact, I have already decided the colors that will be involved in all of 2010's club selections.

Already decided.

Doesn't that make you crazy?

I know it would make me crazy.



Maybe 7-25 is in there somewhere.



Maybe 10-10.



Oooh, maybe it's number 20-4.



Or 16-26.



Or 24-1.

The problem is, you don't know. Only I do.



Under normal circumstances, I would cackle with evil delight right about now.

But for your sake, I'll try my very best to keep it inside.

HAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHOHOHOHOHOHO! I know something you don't know!

Oopsy daisy!

Eponymous.

I have a colorway named after me.

And I have some of that colorway handspun into yarn.

And that is because my name is Sharon.



If your name is Sharon, you now have a colorway named after you too.

In fact, is your name Sharon? Did your mother name you the Hebrew word for plain, as in a fertile plain? Did she almost name you Christine or Farrah? Did she draw your name out of a hat at the last minute?

Not that mine did or anything, what makes you think that?

My mother refuses to call me Yarnista. This from a woman who almost named me Farrah Fawn.

I'm sure she'll be by to comment momentarily, if you'll just hold on.

.

Gee, let's see. There's some brown in there.



Wonder why?There's pink. And turquoise. And purple. All my favorites.



How do I know this colorway is named after moi?It says so right right here on the label.



I got these skeins as a gift from Paty's Loveys. They're plush, plump, and perfect.

And named Sharon. Everything is 20% off through the end of today. 

You should buy some of the handspun before I buy it all for me and hoard it in my little cottage at the edge of a rocky shore with dried lavender hanging from the doorway and sheep milling about in the yard.

Not that I would do that.

Never.

GEEZ, YOU GUYS! Give me a little credit.

Or at least some eponymous handspun.

Nifty project idea: Sunny Side of the Street Bag

I love this little project bag. It's a quick knit, made from worsted weight yarn, and you can probably finish it in one and a half movies.

Unless you're watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, in which case you'll probably be done by the time the hobbits reach Mordor.



Five great reasons to knit this bag:

1. It's fun and functional. Every design feature on this bag has a purpose. The wrist strap is perhaps my favorite -- you could easily knit on the train, or waiting in line at the post office, or at a party where you're supposed to mingle around. (Knitting makes mingling infinitely better. You can pretend to be engrossed in your work if no one wants to talk to you.)

2. It protects your yarn and needles. Sometimes I throw a project in my purse, and I often knit in the car. This bag is small enough to still allow me to do these things, but it keeps purse debris and car crumbs off my cashmere.

3. It's a lovely gift. Knit it, pair it with a skein of yarn (or tuck some knitting notions inside), and the recipient will want to kiss you.



4. It's a great stash buster. It takes less than 100g of yarn to make. I had two skeins waiting to be used, and used the darker color like wainscotting.

5. When you buy the pattern (which is reasonably priced, I might add), you're supporting an independent designer. And that's always a nifty thing to do.

I made a couple of modifications to the pattern to make it my own -- the pattern is forgiving that way. A little bigger than anticipated? Oh well, you can just fit more yarn inside. Smaller than you thought? It'll stretch.



You can get your bag pattern here. Be sure and let us know if you make one!