Soft grays, turquoise, I was told when I asked what Paige’s favorite colors were.
I found one single taupe-ish gray ball in my whole stash and it just didn’t seem the thing. But I happened to get an email from Cottage Yarns in South San Francisco: the store was bursting with yarn orders and everything was 20% off to try to help her clear out some space. I talked to Richard about it and then headed on up Saturday.
Kathryn has a lot of Malabrigo yarns and Malabrigo never goes on sale and, much though I don’t think of myself as the brand-conscious type, I adore anything they produce and the people who produce it: if it’s Malabrigo, it’s very soft, and I love that I’ve gotten to know the owners a bit at Stitches every year.
And Kathryn was right–when I pulled out bags of Silkpaca to try to see the colors of the ones stacked up behind them, they were packed in so tight it was hard to get them back in the cubby (and one doesn’t want to make a mess). Bags and bags and bags of woolly goodness everywhere–I tell you, if I ever have to be in a building in a major earthquake again I want it to be that one.
But there you go: I did, I found a soft gray in there, baby alpaca/silk laceweight, Polar Morn colorway, perfect. I didn’t find what I was looking for turquoise-wise, but one thing at a time. I have about 500 yards of a cobweb-fine bright turquoise cashmere/silk that needs to be double-stranded with something similar in color and softness that I was trying to match up; I’ll find it. (Or dye something from stash.) But let me get this soft gray done first.
I got to tell her how much Hayes’s mom had loved the blankie she’d helped come to be. (The green, that’s from her.) That alone was reason enough to make the drive up there; she was thrilled. And I love that she was cheering Hayes on after his rocky start to life.
And so with the silk/lycra project blocked and out of the way, and with me healthy now, I got started for my cousin-in-law.
Three hours nonstop of laceknitting creates so much fabric.
Three hours of nonstop laceknitting makes such a tiny thing.
Three hours nonstop of knitting lace by the second time around actually does begin to make a goodly bit of fabric. (Break out the icepacks.) I just had to remind myself it was one single stitch when I started yesterday.
Tomorrow I again get the privilege of doing something for Paige to cheer her on in her fight: knitting is a gift that gives both ways. I look forward to all the individual moments I will never know of when she will wrap warmth and love and comfort and color around her and know that she is not alone.