Since my last blog, I’ve had a few mishaps.
First, I’ve been waiting, praying, hoping to hear from Southwest Airlines. On my trip back from Stitches East in October, I left a ton of treasure in the seat pocket:
1- A large project bag filled with countless knitting notions and a stack of Knitting is Gluten Free business cards
2- A binder filled with patterns, errata, project notes, newsletters, yarn labels – all of it affectionately organized in individual document protectors.
After I claimed my luggage in Chicago, I noticed the loss. Distraught and heartsick, I filed a claim right away. To date, nothing has surfaced.
One of three things has happened:
1- Someone has yet to contact me
2- Someone assumed my stuff was worthless and threw it away
3- Someone stole it
What do you think?
My bet is #2, especially since forgotten items are not the airline’s responsibility . . . and if the attendants had watched me knit in flight, they would have seen me grimace after every dropped stitch. Heck, by the end of the flight they might have assumed I wanted to trash the whole thing. Who knows.
One thing for sure: If someone stole my notions, it wasn’t a knitter. Knitters are the most benevolent people in the world, especially when it comes to caring for fellow knitters. A knitter would call or write immediately (info on business cards), and upon returning everything, throw in an extra pattern or two just for fun.
No, my stuff was definitely not stolen. I mean, come on, who other than a knitter would want it?
Oh my gosh . . . I hadn’t thought about this until now . . . but I wonder . . . do you think . . . that maybe there might be a black market for knitting notions? Right now, might some non-knitting-yet-crafty rover be standing in an alleyway, flashing a point protector from behind a trench coat?
I hope so. At at least it would mean someone understood the value of it all.
Next . . .
As moths in Indiana have a way of diminishing in winter, Milo the Moth Hunting Dachshund has taken to eating wool instead.
That’s right. Wool.
And not just any wool. Finished projects.
As an appetizer, he chose the second side slip cloche I’ve made. The pattern is from the hat on cover of Boutique Knits, by Laura Irwin:
This time, I knit it in Ella Rae Classic wool in a plum colorway (113). It was going to be for me, but it looked as good on daughter Michelle as the first one I knit for her (Dale Baby Ull Merino, gray 0007, with Filatura Di Crosa Fancy, colorway 36):
. . . so while she was home for the holidays, I gave her the second cloche, too.
Without realizing the danger, she left her new hat unattended, and Milo being the artful dodger he is, helped himself to flippy, flapper part. He did minimal damage, but the whole thing still needed to be frogged to get to it.
(For my non-knitting friends out there, frogging means “rip it, rip it, rip it.”)
I came up with an idea: Felt it, just a little to lock in the stitches, then trim the flap!
I left it in the washing machine too long. For the record, this yarn felts beautifully.
Bye-bye, boutique hat. Hello, felted bowl.
Next . . .
This time, it looked as though Milo was attacking more than snacking. Perhaps he thought the mittens were badgers.
I loved those mittens beyond belief. For someone with Raynaud’s Syndrome (me), possum is a perfect fiber. They were oh, oh, oh so incredibly soft and warm (notes here), and also the first mittens I made. I was proud of them, and I miss them.
You know, the more I think about it: It must be karma.
Remember back when I got so gosh darn excited about Milo eating moths? Well, I think maybe the universe is getting even with me for enjoying it so much.
You see, I have always been one of those people who puts spiders outside instead of killing them . . . and as silly as it may sound, I have driven more than one house mouse to an ever-so-distant woodland to grant it a new home.
Truth be told, if given the opportunity I would probably want to rescue a tapeworm.
Yep. Karma. I mean, think about it: Moths eat wool (what makes this even worse is that I’ve since learned that not all moths eat wool) . . .
. . . and Milo eats moths . . .
. . . and then I go all online and everything to flaunt it all . . .
. . . and now . . . Milo eats wool while I suffer in a shot framed in what feels-all-the-world like an Ed Wood movie:
Come to think of it, the possum might be getting his digs in, too.
Sometimes, I think about how life might have been so much easier if I could just eat wheat.
Love to all,