By an interesting coincidence, the town we’re visiting is having a Yarn Crawl, which I understand to be a traveling fiber festival of some sort. I had to join in.
My Sister Knits is mere blocks from my sons’ place, in a carriage house. Frankly, it’s not that convincing as a carriage house nowadays, because there is no access for a carriage and the wrong kinds of doors and whatnot. It’s laid out now with an upstairs room filled with DK and finer yarn, and a downstairs room with worsted and bulkier, which seems quite logical.
I got a passport for the yarn crawl and a collection of free patterns, petted a lot of yarn, and bought a couple of skeins of a yarn the name of which I do not recall. This is perhaps because they wound the yarn for me on their niddy-noddy, and how cool is that?
There were people — older white women, to be relatively precise — in both rooms hanging out knitting. This, my boys said, is because in their town there are a lot of people who have too much money and too much time.
But I pointed out that we don’t know. Those women might have just wound up their surgeries for the day and come over for a relaxing break.
This would be a good place to do that.
I had of course done research at their website, and had actually planned to buy 150 grams of Elsebeth Lavold’s Silky Wool to make socks with Viking cables. Once I felt the yarn, I changed my mind. It has no elasticity at all, it seems to me. At $11.25 for 50 grams, I’d be looking at a $33.75 pair of droopy socks.
Having visited the first of my yarn crawl stops, I cheerfully went with the guys to the local park for an Ultimate tournament. We didn’t get around to dinner that night, but otherwise it was a fun day.