Letters.

Dear Self,

I've been concerned -- is everything OK?  Are you feeling well? Are you full of vim and vigor? I visited you during the night while you were asleep and saw black and blue marks on your arms.


Write to me, I'm worried.


Love,

Yarnista

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Dear Self,

Thanks for writing back, I know you're busy, but it certainly makes me feel better to know that the black and blue marks are just dye stains. I have been wondering why they're only on your forearms -- wouldn't your hands get stained with dye too?

Why haven't you been blogging much lately? I miss you!

TTYS,

Yarnista

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Self,

Ahhhhh, I see. The marks on your forearms are where your gloves stop. I get it. Phew!

From the sounds of things, you've been busy, yes? What have you been up to other than working?

-- Y

P.S. Maybe you should get those shoulder-length gloves. Then you won't worry people with the bruises when you go out in public.

*************************

Hi Self,

Wow, I just saw these, and I have to say... these are pretty nifty. Like nifty for real for real.







That's how all the youngsters are speaking these days, FYI. But keep that on the down low.

Hope you don't mind, but I took all your samples of these colorways.  They whispered that they wanted to live with me instead of down there at the cold, lonely, colorless studio.


Yarnista

****************************

Self!

Where are you?! Seriously, I've been trying to reach you! CALL ME BACK!

-- Y

***************************

Self,

I stopped by the studio last night at 11:37 pm, and was super excited to see these:





Are you sure I can't have just ONE teeny tiny skein for me? JUST ONE? PLEASE????

I'll be your best friend.

I'll buy you a latte.

WHY NOT?

I'm like The Temptations, I Ain't Too Proud To Beg!

Love,

Yarnista

*************************

Dear Self,

Now I need the smelling salts. When I stopped by the studio this morning at 4:36 am, I saw this:



and this:



AND THIS!!!!!!



I think I need to lie down. For real for real. Who are you sending all this yarn to? Is this where you've been? Do you know CPR?

Also, there were a lot of colorways in the studio this morning when I stopped by at 4:36 am that I did not recognize. You have some explaining to do. Has the studio been taken over by ninjas who are churning out new colorways night and day?

I knew you were up to something...

WRITE ME BACK!

Yarnista

Things I know for sure.

Here are some things I know for sure:


1. I was uncool long before being uncool was cool.



2. Pale is the new tan.



3. I need constant supervision.



4. Cooking and cleaning are for people who haven't discovered knitting yet.



5. A morning without coffee is like... something...without something else...

6. Chocolate is proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy.



7. People from Massachusetts do not find it amusing when you yell, "Where'd ya PAHK? Over near HAHVAHD YAHD?"




Just thought you'd like to know.

Organizational tips and tricks

Perhaps you didn't know this about me, but I will let you in on a little secret.

I can hear what you're thinking.

Only when you're visiting this site, mind you. Not just randomly all the time. So you think.




Like right now, you're thinking, "What's that colorway?"

See?

Right now you're thinking, "Gosh, how did it get to be Labor Day weekend already?" Except for you, over there, you're thinking, "Labour Day? Don't we celebrate that in May?"



And right now, "Sheesh, she hasn't updated her blog in forever. Where's she been?"

And, "What exactly is that yarn?"

Because I am a benevolent Yarnista, I shall not leave your questions unanswered.

The colorway is called Wild Strawberries. It's meant to look like wild strawberries. Mostly because I walk on the wild side and like to be edgy in my name choices. Just when you think I'm going to zig, I zag. I like to keep you on your toes.

This was inspired by a lovely LYS owner in Cordova, Alaska. (Alaska shoppers/travelers? Say hello to The Net Loft for me.)  It took me a while to develop the technique for this colorway, one in which there would be tiny bits of red (like one or two stitches) embedded in a field of kettle dyed greens. When this is knit up, it will remind you of those tiny red berries that proliferate near the ground, surrounded by all manner of leafy things.

I had to figure out a way to: a) keep the berries tiny, b) keep the berries red, c) have them be surrounded by fields of green. (Red+green usually equals brown, hence my challenge.) I had the laughable first attempts on my desk here at the studio until the straw that broke the camels back: my husband of all people, my husband who never has an opinion about yarn, picked up the skeins and asked, "What are THESE?"

I had one of my assistants squirrel them -- and all my samples -- into a new storage system in my office. The new storage system, one that was devised with a considerable amount of thought and input from experts, can only be described thusly:

First, someone takes a cardboard box we have laying around the studio, usually something that once contained items shipped to us.

Next, they make sure that there is nothing in the cardboard box. Nothing at all. They do this through visual and manual inspection.

Then, they place the samples -- gently! -- into the empty cardboard box.

They use a permanent marker, preferrably a 1/2" chisel-tip, Sharpie-brand, black-ink model, and print: "SAMPLES (yarn) (dyed)".

Finally, the boxes are then taped closed with a special tape gun. I am picky about my tape guns, having been through at least eight of them in the past 18 months. I am in love with this tape gun. (When they say it's the Cadillac of tape dispensers, they mean a Cadillac with a leather interior and surround sound.)

I recommend this system to anyone -- you might try using it in your own home or office.  I know it sounds a bit complicated, with the visual AND manual inspection of the box,  the legible printing with a marker of the permanent variety, and the taping closed of the box, but once you get the hang of it, you'll find that it's really rather handy.

You could use this sytem for things like "CLOTHES (winter) (kids)" or "ORNAMENTS (Christmas) (tree)" or "GARBAGE (throw) (away)". The possibilities are endless.

Right now you're thinking, "Is this person kidding?"

The answer in the form of the question is, would I kid you?

P.S. Look for Wild Strawberries later this year.

Notes from the Summit

This will be a bit short, as I have to leave in 15 minutes and am still in my pajamas with wet hair.  Now you can see where my true priorities lie.

Scene: 4:10 pm, 20 minutes before the Sock Summit show opens to students. The boxes that were supposed to have arrived days before have not yet made it to our hotel.  The six boxes contain lots of yarn, but also necessary supplies, like labels. At 4:13, the boxes have finally landed, we shove them into a taxi ourselves because the cab driver had just had a hernia operation, and drive the five blocks to the convention center.

Scene: 4:15 pm The boxes have been unceremoniously dumped onto the sidewalk outside the convention center.  Katie runs in to try and get a hand cart while I stand on busy Martin Luther King (St? Ave? Blvd?) with a giant pile of boxes. At 4:18, Katie comes back empty handed, grabs a box and bolts for the convention center. Inside, she must go up some stairs, then down some stairs, then all the way across the convention center floor, and back out the same to do it all again. She is wearing what are, in my estimation, red vegan platform elf shoes.

Scene: 4:22 pm. I am shuffling down MLK with cars whizzing past, carrying a 50lb box while simultaneously kicking another box with my foot, trying to get them closer to the convention center door. Just then, a FedEx truck pulls up. The driver sees me struggling with the boxes and notices that they have FedEx labels on them. He says, "Here, let me help you." Realizing how heavy the boxes are, he grabs his hand cart, and we race inside the convention center, down the hall to the elevator, and down to the lower level. We discover that we cannot get into the convention center exhibit hall this way and go back up the elevator with some kind of alarm sounding (which we ignore), all the way across the hall and to another elevator, down, and out.

Scent: 4:28. The FedEx man and I zoom past what appears to be about 1,000 knitters lined up at the door. At the door is Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, barring the entrance and leading the group in a rendition of "99 skeins of yarn on the wall" waiting for the clock to strike 4:30. I try the door to the convention center floor. It's locked. I yell to Stephanie above the singing. "I'm a vendor,  I need to get in!" She replies brightly, "Go right ahead!" I try the door again, even though I know it's still locked. I try another door, and another, with the 1,000 knitters and the FedEx man staring at me and singing and probably thinking to themselves, "What the heck kind of dolt is she?" Finally, someone on the other side of the door takes pity on me and pushes it open. The FedEx man and I practically run through the convention center floor while I call Katie on my cell phone yelling, "I'm not outside, I'm inside with the FedEx man!"

Then I hear the convention center doors open, and the sound of knitters on the prowl fills the air.

To be continued...

Just a thought.

I should give some thought to NOT spilling coffee on one of only two shirts I brought with me. I'll let you know what I decide.