Casting On . . . Again
Before you say, huh? Wasn't that sweater pink? Please read on.
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It all starts with the "goat yarn." Well, that's what I call it. I saw it across a marketplace at a knitting retreat about 2 years ago. I didn't care how much yardage there was, I just had to have it.
So I paid a ridiculous sum of money for this one of a kind, handspun treat (with little to no yardage to it) and brought it home, totally enamoured with the lovely shades of blue and bottle green
and the completely white, white. And then I noticed something.
The yarn stank. I mean stank. Like goats. Like a goat in August on a really hot day. So I washed it, delicately soaking in the sink with some wool wash, confident that the goat odor would go away.
It didn't.
I put it in the washing machine, soaked it with a cup of vinegar, again confident the goat smell would go away.
It didn't. While it hung to dry in the laundry room, none of my family would venture downstairs, complaining I'd turned the house into Green Acres.
Back into the washing machine it went. This time with an entire bottle of vinegar. And finally, the goat smell went away. But sadly, my love affair with it had faded a bit. So I wound it up and tucked it away thinking that I would fall in love again soon.
Yet, like all stash, it had to wait to find some help.
Then about a year ago, I spotted two skeins of Cascade Pastaza, and had one of those "aha" moments. Like, hmmm, I wonder if . . . and when I got home, I dug out the goat yarn and the Sophie, and introduced them to their new basket mate, their coordinated lost half brother, Pastaza.
And so they've been sitting in their basket patiently waiting for the perfect project.
I really do need a 12 step program. But the good news is, I'm knitting from my stash . . .
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