Two Black Sheep

Oh Timbaland

Lola just got back from Florida and she is swamped (I'm sure those emails will get answered). Needless to say, the trip was filled with, "Are you sure you are having just one?" and "Maybe they screwed up the due date," and "December 18 . . . you'll go December 18." From me, she received multitudes of texts, most of which consisted of "People are asses" and "So, have you heard and good fat jokes lately?"

I feel so bad for my poor sister. I mean, she is desperate for a glass of Merlot and SK really isn't a wine drinker. What is a sister to do? What is a sister with $258 to spend and close availability to an airport to do? What is a sister with $258 to spend and close availability to an airport and need of a mental pick-me-up to do? We'll post photos on Monday . . . I'm on the 8:00 PM flight to C-Bus tomorrow. I'll think of ways to insult you on the way, Lola!

Ava

PS - The other sister flew home to see Mom and Dad, so I really decided to surprise them, but Lola having a crap-ass of a week didn't hurt either.

Happy Birthday song

Tomorrow is my fabulous big sister's birthday.  Her birthday post to me was filled with great pictures from the past & written so well I cried.  Since she's the family scrapbooker, the only pictures I have of Ava are the ones she made me swear to never post.  I'll sprinkle in some Flickr favorites of some of her favorites at the end for those of you who like a picture post.  And I've driven over 700 miles in 2 days, so just go with my ramblings.

I'm convinced that a mother starts out with a set amount of Advice Goo.  The first born is given a good dollop.  The second gets a little less.  And so on, and so on.  This whacked-out theory of mine is why the eldest always give the best advice.  Women tend to give better advice than men which is precisely why older sisters give the greatest advice in the world. Make sense, right?

Ava was the first to tell me, "Less is more" when discussing make-up.  She helped me by saying, "Take the job.  Hardly anyone uses their actual degree."  I've got a fabulous vacuum & a shower full of great smelling products all because she cared to call & give her opinion.  However, I'm pretty sure that she's unaware that she delivered the best piece of knowledge I've ever gotten.  A day rarely goes by without me silently thanking her for this information.  Let me tell you how I stumbled upon this info.

I was pretty sure that I never wanted to have children, but something changed about a year before we got pregnant with Gus.  While I loved being pregnant, I didn't have a huge amount of Motherly feelings towards the child I was carrying.  I didn't despise him, but I didn't get all warm & fuzzy about him either. It was more like a job, keep him safe.  People kept saying that everything would change on the day I had him.  So I waited for that change.

After the Doctor pulled him out & placed him on on chest, I didn't have that Moment.  You know the Moment I'm talking about.  Lights go dim, everything stops, the baby looks up at me, angels sing & my heart breaks into a million pieces never to be found again.  You've read about that Moment.  Seen it in the movies.  Hell, maybe you had yours.  But I didn't.  I just kept thinking, "I begged them to wash him off first.  Ah shit, I'm not kangaroo-ing.  See, I've already fucked this up."  In the following week, almost every mother asked me something that sounded like this, "Isn't it amazing how much you can love someone you've never met?"  I always said yes because that's what they wanted to hear & it was easier to say.  Once again, I didn't hate my son.  I just felt like I was playing pretend & any day now the real mother would come to take her son.

During that time Brooke Shields was on her PPD book tour.  Please believe me when I say that I didn't suffer from PPD or even had the Baby Blues.  Honest.  I just wasn't feeling like every commercial, magazine picture & women  told me I would feel in my new role.  One day I'm watching Oprah ask Brooke about her delivery, and she said that she didn't have her Moment.  Oprah looked shocked & Brooke said that she felt a lot of women didn't have a Moment or rather they created one later.  "OK I'm with ya Brooke," I thought.  Then she started to explain how she didn't bond with her daughter while she was nursing.  She'd be on the phone, doing crosswords, or watching tv.  "Oh shit."  I said as I was nursing, knitting lace, watching tv, & probably just hung up the phone with Ava.  By the time that she started talking about wanting to run her car off the bridge, I thought that maybe I should call someone before I get to that point.  Once again, I knew that I didn't have PPD, but I thought maybe my lack of motherly feelings would put me behind the driver's seat.  I never claimed that was reasonable after Gus' birth.  I called Ava & told her everything.  She explained that a lot of women had my same feelings & nothing was wrong with me.  She said that most women don't talk about those feelings; they aren't as pretty.  And then she said it.  The couple sentences that changed everything, "You grow to love your child.  And then one day you can't imagine feeling anything other than intense love for them."    If anyone else would have uttered these words, I would've discredited them immediately.  But it was Ava & she had never been wrong in the past.  When I hung up, I exhaled & knew we'd be ok.

There's a part of me that's afraid people will say, "Maybe she had a little bit of PPD or the Blues."  I wasn't cold towards him.  And I really did love him & was full of emotions on his birth day, but it wasn't the Mama Bear type feelings I thought I'd have.  I was just trying to get by with the nursing schedule, all-day crying jags, the new responsibilities that are instantly thrown at you.  There's never enough time to prepare.  I've talked about this with other women & have found that I'm not as crazy as I had once thought.  You feel silly saying how you really felt those first couple weeks.  Sure there are plenty of women who have their Moment the minute the baby is spotted on an ultrasound, but I wasn't one of them.  When the placenta came out, Motherhood emotions didn't replace it.  There's nothing that makes me cringe more than when a mother tells a pregnant woman how much she'll crumble at the first sight of her own child.  If you don't crumble completely, you feel awful, helpless, alone, & slightly insane.  Ava helped me realize I wasn't any of those, but normal.

I can't really tell you when I had my Moment.  Maybe it was after I hung up the phone & relaxed.  Or maybe it was the first time, I made Gus laugh.  Or the first time I felt pain when he was hurting.  But there have been times while he's telling me a story & I can hear Ava's voice saying I'd feel this love, & I just start sobbing.  So for making my life intensely easier on that day & everyone after, I forgive her for dunking & holding me under at the pool.  I forgive her for telling me that I was adopted & we weren't really sisters.  I forgive her for inching the car away when I'd try to get in at school.  I even forgive her for making me think that I really could speak fluent Chinese when I was 6. 

I love you & a huge happy birthday.  Celebrate the entire weekend doing only things you enjoy.  Knit all day.  Watch Jason Statham movies in slow-motion.  Eat an Egg McMuffin while drinking a beer (something I've still never done).  Master those sock patterns!  Rewind certain parts in Jason Statham movies.  Just enjoy the weekend.  And please don't grade a single paper.

-Lola

1. peanutbutter, 2. Arched people, 3. Bubble bars, 4. Achtung U2

Voodoo Child

Finally, a finished object that I can be somewhat happy with . . . and it isn't even for me! A co-worker of mine was due on October 2nd with her first baby and she finished out the week looking every bit as cute and pregnant as ever. Lola, honestly, she is in the running for the cutest looking pregnancy ever (I think you'll still win since you're my sister). Anyway, here is the sweater knit for her soon-to-be-born son. Hopefully he can wear it in March and be nice and warm. Specs are in the finished album.

While knitting the neckband, I thought there might be some errata for the pattern because it just didn't make sense to me so I looked it up. Nothing. When I told the Flyer what I was doing, he says (with only a slight German/Dr. Strangelove accent), "Don't you know that Cat Bordhi doesn't make mistakes. You infidel! Very soon a mailer will arrive on the doorstep demanding that you mail the book back and you'll never knit a pair of socks from it." Two things become quite apparent (well, three): I was quite obsessive over "the book" and I finally got it in the mail. The third one? He wasn't listening when I said Debbie Bliss . . . and there wasn't any errata on the pattern, just a craptacular knitter without her morning Starbucks.

The book. What can I say other than "Wow!" If I say more, I might die of fright. Some of the patterns will take some getting used to, but I think that I am going to dive head into it. Then again, with five babies due before March 25, I might as well make a "learning sock" or two. Some of the patterns are a bit too twee for me, and while I love different styles, some seem different for the sake of being different. I was planning on using the Tofutsies to make a pair of Sarah's Synesthesia socks (three times fast now), but I might give in and try a coriolis architecture socks. What to do, what to do.

Ariann, sadly, had been relegated to the back burner, not because she isn't lovely and beautiful and giving and just utterly wonderful but because I need to get Baby J's sweater finished. Now that it is done, I am hoping to pick up our gal Ariann and knit on her. The color is divine (a real cherry red for my inner diva) and I am actually liking Cascade 220. Who knew? No comments from you on this one, Trish, because I know damn well where to get more.

So, what do you do when you pick up the phone at 6:30 PM and hear your father telling you that he is about 120 miles away from your house on his way to Boston to pick up the Bro who quit his job (remember, he's getting married soon, ladies and gentlemen . . . okay, Steve and Mike)? Do you say, "Be careful driving through Wilkes Barre," and go back to your knitting? Or do you say, "Don't be silly getting a hotel room. I don't get to see you that often because you live in Ohio. Come stay with us," and then in a panic throw all sorts of crap onto the dining room table and run out to the grocery store to buy his favorite ice cream and snacks (the kind Mom forbids in their house) and have the girls clean like lunatics. Yup, we opted for the second choice and spent a lovely two and a half hours with Daddy. Nothing controversial was brought up, Lola, so that was a relief. I scrubbed the computer of all mention of the blog (parents still in the dark) for nothing as the visit was too brief. After a quick stop at Starbucks, Daddy was on his way to Boston to extract the Bro (and hopefully talk some sense into his thick skull about the wedding date).

Off to knit some socks and still looking for normalcy . . . something tells me this is it. I can deal.

Ava

PS - we saw this advertised on the telly yesterday and the Flyer has now affectionately dubbed it "cooch mousse." Surprisingly, it is packaged similarly to Rogaine.

Eight Days a Week

The theme for this school year is that oh-so-famous line from Caddyshack, in which Bill Murray's character relates his story about the Dali Lama gifting him perfect enlightenment and he says, "So I have that going for me, which is nice." That line has been repeated so often this week that I think it should  be tattooed on my arm where I can read it. Patience may be a virtue, but I was absent when it was doled out.

On the bright side, I actually picked up the sticks and knit this weekend. My friend Teresa is due in a week or so and I am still working on her baby's sweater. Granted it is a 6 - 9 month jobber but still not having it done before the bambino pops wouldn't be good. She is a big General Hospital fan, a la Cara, Lola, and me, so I am compiling a list of reasons she should be happy she isn't delivering in Port Charles (seriously, click on that link - mind numbing). Right now, I have: might raise someone else's baby for five years before realizing your mistake; potential for giving birth in an elevator during a power outage with only a nurse trainee and a mob hit man; rapid growth of said infant (0 to 12 years in less than a month); really homely child growing up; baby could be used as a cunning blackmail plot/extortion scheme/hostage/plot twist; and lame name. Can you think of anything else?

About two weeks ago, the Flyer and I traipsed down to the valley for a movie and some shopping. We hit Kraemer's for some yarn (Mandy - the box is on its way on Tuesday. You must have been there when they were passing out patience); I completely forgot that they were renovating their store, so the pickings were slim, but I did get enough Summit Hill to make a sweater of sorts. For some reason, they are selling Summit Hill in hanks, not skeins, and clearanced what they had left. The woman working said it because people liked to stroke the yarn better in hanks, but I think it is a global conspiracy against me since I suck at winding hanks into balls. After the movie, I decided to look in one more yarn shop for the book (better luck finding the Holy Grail at this point). I really don't like this yarn shop because it has that cliquey feel, which even the Flyer picks up on. So, we walk in, the owner says hello and goes back to her pattern writing, and we walk around. A few minutes later, some of the regulars come in and she engages in a lively conversation. I can't find the book, but she does have a lovely stock of Debbie Bliss so I get three balls of some lime green stuff for a baby sweater and head to the cash register . . . and wait . . . and wait. Finally, one of the regulars says, "Oh, I don't think she sees you. Hey, (insert name here), you have a customer." Response, "I didn't know someone else was here." At the register, I ask about the book; she responds, "I have one copy, but I am knitting a sock from it right now. Would you like to look at it?" At this point, I nearly throw up my hands and walk out, but instead I say, "No I don't want to look at it - I want to buy it." She counters that there are six more on there way and should be in the store by Wednesday and I could come back then and buy one. I thank her but state that I live 45-minutes away and can easily order one from Amazon instead. This is the straw that broke my fucking back. Never again will I shop in that store - never.

So, the Bro and his fiance have decided on Las Vegas. Our little bit of the family are tickled pink . . . until we learn of the date. For some reason, sending him all the dates that won't work when he asked did little good as they picked the day after the girls and I get out of school, which means we can't go. When I told him I was contractually obligated to be there, he kept telling me to get a substitute. I guess when you have never had a contract, you might not understand what the word means, but that is beside the point. So now, it is down to a day I can't make it or Christmas . . . which means Lola, you can't make it what with being all pregger pop time and all. Even if they do pick another date before school gets out, it will make things tricky for me and getting time off. My choice might be: marriage of youngest sibling or birth of TBA. Solomon, where are you?

Ava

PS - the Super Kid Seta in all those colors? This wrap from Knitting Daily. My LYS (one that I really, really like and it is local) bought enough to make 13 wraps and set one aside for me. I am thinking of making it for another friend (we share the same birthday - I have about three weeks), but don't tell her, Tricia . . . she sits on the other side of me on Monday nights, capice?

PPS - I just had a melt-down with our new mower not working - the type of melt-down that requires a teenager to hold  her mother and shush her and hand her tissues and ask if she can help and surreptitiously call her sister and tell her to come home because Mom is losing it.

One Year Down

You know that old saying, "You can't go home again?" Well, guess what . . . you can as long as you remember that you aren't in your 30's, but you're really about 13 and when your mom tells you to do something, you probably should. We visited Mom and Dad (and Betty and Veronica who were there for their annual summer visit) over the weekend, and things don't change that much as far as family dynamics go: we still go to Young's, we will play cards and drink a lot of beer (not the pregnant one), we might get yelled at for different things, and Lola still gets accused of exaggerating. The only thing different now is that we knit, which didn't happen when we were younger. That being said, it was a lovely visit and the girls had a blast with Gus. Even Livvie enjoyed herself when Gus decided that she needed to hear Carl Goes Shopping.

In my never ending quest for the perfect yarn for the Katherine Hepburn sweater from Lace Style, I thought I had it narrowed down to a few choices but neither one swatched up well. Personally, I think this sweater might become the bane of my knitting existence. Will it become my version of Lola's Half Dollar and hang like an albatross? Probably, but I know when to punt and pick a new sweater. Ariann she is and I'll pick up the Cascade 220 this afternoon for the 3/4 length sleeve version. It would be nice to have this wrapped up before school started, but I am not putting any bets on it.

So, today marks our one-year anniversary for the blog (we're counting the months spent on Blogger, dammit) so we thought we would have a little contest because we a) like free shit and figure others might too, b) like comments, and c) feel like it. Here goes: Gus loves to read, and I like to bring him books. I brought about 30 of the girls' old books, but I know that I'll buy him another one at Barnes and Noble later this week. Leave us a comment by 7:30 AM on August 2 and tell us what your favorite book was growing up. Gus will choose one comment at random  and ship you off some goodies that will probably include some sock yarn, some Soak for said yarn, and other stuff that we pick up along the way.

About those yarn haul photos? They'll have to wait . . . I bought some lovely yarn, and I mean lovely, at Yarnsmiths over the weekend, but I think I left it at Mom's house. I could ask her to take a photo and email it to me, but then she would want to know why and I'd have to think of a creative story that didn't involve a blog. I should get the yarn when I get the girls from Mom and Dad tomorrow. Until then, leave us a book suggestion . . . otherwise, I might have to read another truck book.

Ava

She Moves In Her Own Way

Ah, the lovely drive to Ohio! It fills Ava with such joy, such, happiness, such . . . a need for caffeine. The trip on Wednesday was completely uneventful other than PennDot cutting trees along the turnpike. That, my friends, is a sight to behold - just make sure that you have your hands securely gripping the steering wheel because it can be kind of frightful.

Needless to say, with both of us in the same city for a change, we have been shopping for yarn and material and generally cracking ourselves up. We are convinced that most people would look at us and say, "Losers," whenever we are laughing (and I am sure that Lola's OB/GYN didn't find us that funny), but if you have a sister or a best friend, you know what we are talking about.

Gus has been asking about every single noise known to God and man. Betty and Veronica are in for a treat tonight as we are heading home to see Mom and Dad for the weekend. You know what that means . . . no blogging or reading blogs since they still don't know about our little endeavor.

We'll post pictures of the haul (yarn and material) on Monday. We're thinking about having a little "Happy One Year Anniversary" for the blog so stay tuned. No Fiberlicious Friday post this week . . . instead, a postcard that I bought for Lola in London. Something about it screamed, "Buy this for your sister, dumb-ass!" Ah, sisterly love!

Have a lovely weekend, stay dry, and knit up a storm. We'll be enjoying a play in the park tonight as well as saying, "Remember that time when . . . ?"

Lola and Ava

Birthday Morning

So, what were you doing 31 years ago today? Seriously, you can't remember? Let me jog your memory. It was the bicentennial. "Disco Duck" was a huge hit. The Montreal Olympics were beginning . . . you do remember Nadia Comaneci, don't you? Oh, and my best friend was born. Only then, she was just my little sister, Lola, and my world was about to be flipped upside down.

One of the nights Lola wouldn't sleep

See, I liked being an only child. It was a pretty sweet gig, if you ask me. Mom and Dad didn't exactly spoil me, but if I wanted an Inch Worm or the Sunshine Family, I knew I would get them. A sibling would change all that. I knew something was up after Mom read a hideous 'where babies come from' kind of book. And then, June 22 rolled around and I was shuttled off to Mrs. Berghoff's house. That was a treat in and of itself, so I knew the end was near. Dad came to Bergie's house late that night to tell me that I had a new sister . . . crap.

At first it was odd having a baby in the house. Lola's legs stood straight up if you pull the covers off, and she never, ever slept. That got a bit annoying after a while. The next year it became interesting as the Other Sister joined us. With two sisters, I could really have fun. If I wanted to dress them up in saris, no problem; they even stood still so I could draw a bindi on their foreheads in Marks-A-Lot. If Mom sent us out to play on the front porch, I could convince Lola to hold on to an open umbrella and jump off the porch a la Mary Poppins. Lola and the Other Sister were always up for a game of Witchy Witch or Statue Statue, and one of them could be counted on to ask Mom for money for the Ooga Man.

Remember, I saved you the night of the motel "fire" . . . Dad saved his golf clubs!

It wasn't until Lola went to college that we became friends. When she graduated, it got even better. Who was this funny woman I was talking to? Oh, that's my sister. What the hell? Now, the Flyer and SK are used to coming home and finding us on the phone with each other. My girls love talking to their aunt, even if they have never called her Aunt Lola, and they know that whatever they tell me will eventually make its way to her.

I credit my knitting passion to my sister. I took classes years ago and made several lovely scarves and bear sweaters (don't ask), but it fell by the wayside. When the Other Sister had Beaner, I started knitting again, and Lola was right there to talk me through the finer points of Knitting 101. She very rarely if ever will talk me out of a purchase, but she will point out if I have yarn of that type in my stash. And, on a few occasions, she will talk me into a purchase . . . Cider Moon comes to mind.

You were such a good sport . . . I owe you one!

So, on Lola's birthday, right after she had that lovely ultrasound, here are some things you should know about her.

• she doesn't like gum, the wrappers that gum comes in, or talking to you if you are chewing it
• she wanted to invite Carly and Sonny from General Hospital to her wedding - the characters, not the actors
• she jumped off the back of the couch after I told her if she ate a tablespoon of Superman Peanut Butter she could fly like the Man of Steel (got in trouble for that one)
• she has a birthmark on her forehead that gets red when she is sick
• she is a great mom, a great sister, and a great friend

Happy birthday! Love you bunches!

Ava

PS - pictures of the London Shrug tomorrow or Sunday. I just couldn't muster the energy to do any more ribbing last night. UGH!

A Long Walk

Ava-
So I made it home safely, tired, but safely.  I had enough time in the Newark & during the jaunt to D.C. to finish my G-Rocks.  This accomplishment led to some interesting knitting activities.  There's nothing like knitting lace at an airport bar.  To add to the interest, plied baby camel is like knitting with 4 separate pieces of sewing thread.  I think the bartender was impressed, but not enough to float me a beer.

My Philly update will not be as impressive as Ava's.  My memory is drifting away, lack of proper sleep will do that to a girl.  Before we boarded the train, we stopped at Kraemer's for some Tatamy Tweed Worsted.  I've swatched, washed & believe that US 6 will do me fine for the Half Dollar.  Fingers crossed, please.

After a quick stop at Starbucks (why do people let their large dogs walk around parking lots & then into the shop?), we went to the train station.  Since we just missed a train, we decided to enjoy a couple beers, NASCAR and people-watching.  I don't think the bar saw many women walk through the door.  Men actually offered their stools.  How sweet.

The night before, I stayed awake & practiced walking through a turnstile.  Push. Push.  No, don't pull!  Philly's transportation got the new & improved Lola!  We hit Rosie's Yarn Cellar first and grabbed more Noro, Folk Shawls & a set of the breast cancer Denise needles.  I'm sure that someone got more cashmere, but I can't remember.  It's a really good guess as it remained a hot commodity in Philly.  From there, we grabbed a delicious lunch at Ten Stone to fuel up for Loop.

Loop was our favorite yarn store in the 2007 Yarn Extravaganza (however, I love my purchases from School Products the most).  The store was well lit, large enough to walk around and had a nice staff that didn't make you feel like you were a bother.  We also saw an electronic ball winder that we're both coveting.  Ava grabbed some Lorna's Lace, Blue Sky Dyed Cotton & more cashmere.  I was almost  tempted by the shrug/cardigan in the window, but I was being realistic.  I had just bought enough sock yarn, yak, camel and cotton to knit sweaters for the entire Jolie-Pitt clan, plus the others that will surely follow.  Take me, Angie.  Take me.

One more stop at Lush and we were back on the train home.  B & V came with us to Philly, & kept us in line.  No eyes were rolled.  Not a lot of vulgar language. No dancing on the corners.  But they did leave us at Urban Outfitters, and the picture below was snapped.  Who sells a hat like this?  I guess the question should be, who buys a hat like this?  I'm not passing judgment, promise, but you could make it for 1/2 the price!

To be honest, we were slap-happy.  We were also really annoyed with cell phones.  Just because you can have an entire conversation about your evening, doesn't mean you should!  Go outside!  I don't want to hear that Danny can't handle his liquor.  I'm sorry that Molly has crabs, but I don't want or need to hear it.  I don't think he was amused by the hat.

Somewhere along the route, we ran into this little fellow.  Thanks to the girls for a heads-up.  The Hubbys were happy.  Probably even proud.

So that's the big 2007 Yarn Extravaganza!  Next time we hope to drop in on some knitbloggers.  We did run into some (a little Googling led us to them. we're not proud), but we don't have kind things to say.  And we  gave up being mean for Lent.  Not really, but it sounds nice.  We had a fantastic time in both NYC & Philly.  That's not really fair.  We always seem to have fun when we're together.  Whether it's large cities, a 16-hour car ride with a 5 month-old, or a pond full of goose shit.  But that's how sisters roll...
-Lola

Rehab Remix

There are so many titles for this post which we could have used . . . "Blame It On the Rain," "Downtown,"  or "The Bitch Is Back," but we settled on "Rehab Remix" for a variety of reasons. First, after this shopping weekend of yarn-porn, we truly need some rehab to get our spending back in check. Second, we realized that we really are kind of (okay, really REALLY) snarky when we get together. And third, we listened to Amy Winehouse all weekend long and it's the first and last song on the CD. Ironically, it has nothing to do with drinking. For that, we don't think we have a problem . . . seriously. Friday started off in typcial fashioin for us: Lola's flight was cancelled. She nearly cried on the ticket agent's shoulder saying, "Please don't make me go home to a 2-year-old. I can't do it." Suffice it to say, she got here and we got into New York City without any major obstacles. Granted, I really didn't know what we were doing other than a train would in fact take us into the city, but we got there.

Our first stop was Purl. We were a little enthusiastic when we walked in as they weren't even open yet, so we grabbed a quick bite at Once Upon a Tart (thanks for the recommendation, Cara) and then waited patiently while about ten other knitters walked up and down the block. Talk about looking like herion addicts waiting for fixes. The thing about Purl is the size really gets to you in the end. If you are even remotely claustrophic, Purl might require some anxiety medication. Lola picked up some Lorna's Lace Purl exclusives (she was such a good girl), but I bought some Habu Cashmere along with the Lorna's Lace. For me, the word of the day was cashmere. Not a cheap word by any means. From there, we went to Purl Patchwork (pop another anxiety med before entering . . . it's itsy-bitsy) and bought a variety of fabrics. Me? I'm just making a purse or two. Lola, she's making a purse, a pillow, and an apron. Neither of us is into "exquisite" quilts or technically matching fabrics like some of the other shoppers. In both stores, we were struck by how the owner was able to make the most of her limited space and still have a thriving business. Thanks for cutting the fabric, Joelle; it was a pleasure.

Let it be said that Lola's interaction with public transport is limited. Still, I expected her to know how to operate a turnstile. I am wondering how many people looked at us in the Spring Street station saying, "Look, see how patient that woman is with the mentally challenged lady." Unfortunately, our "sister sign language" wasn't working that well so it took four swipes of a MetroCard to get Lola into the station. Priceless!

Somewhere between Purl and Purl Patchwork, it began to rain which is fairly typical for our New York expeditions. This time, it wasn't a torrential downpour as in the past, but still, New York in the rain kind of sucks. Seaport Yarn was next on our trip. If you haven't been there, it really is an interesting place as the yarn just goes on and on and on. We were a little overwhelmed, but they did have a fantastic selection of Louet Gems and Noro so we each got a little sumpin' sumpin' for our projects. We tossed around going uptown to Tender Buttons, but the rain really put a damper on that idea, so we settled on just Habu Textiles and School Products with a quick stop at Lush for good measure. Lola was unaware that Lush made a Karma Kream and, after trying some, spent the rest of the afternoon smelling her hands. Habu was worth it just to marvel at all the nifty yarns, but I found myself having to really do some mental talking just to buy something, so we left empty handed. School Products (after we found the right building) was much more profitable - for them and us. Lola had been talking about super-yak for a while, but I just couldn't get my head around it. School Products has a variety of yak yarns as well as an extensive camel selection. If you would have asked me about camel and yaks last month, I would have laughed at you, but suffice it to say, camel and yak was on the train home just an hour later. Me? More cashmere and some Koigu for the Chevron Scarf as I am giving into peer preasure.

We got home relatively early - about 7 PM - and got to work on our knitting while we decompressed with a beer. We learned that we don't wear our knitting into yarn shops because we don't need to prove that we can knit. If you are in a yarn shop and fondling the yarn, we assume - as do the owners - that you know what you are doing. You do not need to wear your most complicated piece as if you were fishing for comments. Please, if your first scarf turned out shitty and your second piece just as shitty and then you switched to lace and only lace, do not assume that you have a talent for the complicated shit . . . you have a talent for yarn overs. We also learned that if a yarn shop owner professes a love for a certain designer and we don't share those feelings, we will keep it to ourselves for fear of getting into a protracted arguement based upon said designer's speech patterns. And finally, we learned that the owners will laugh a little more with you if you aren't condesending about the whole thing. After all, it's just yarn. Lola will post about Philadelphia tomorrow; I have a Chevron calling my name.
-Ava

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

My Darling G-Rocks,

I knew something was wrong last night when Ava could barely muster one round. Do you ever get that feeling that someone is just not into knitting you . . . almost a "It's not you, it's me" vibe when you know damn well it is you? Last night was one such night. I wondered, "Did I do something wrong? Could I serve a better purpose plugging her ears after listening to all those youngsters murder the divine Diana Ross?" Alas, when her darling children started petting her hair, telling her it would be okay, I knew it couldn't have been the fault of a little bit of yarn.

Oh, G-Rocks, I just know if we put our tiny needles and fiber together, we can come up with something better for the girls. I hear that on the Internet, you can find lots of lovely flights for very little money. If you promise to be a good lilttle sock and I promise to at least try being one, I have a feeling everything will work out for the best.

I was beginning to think that my lovingly hand dyed colorway (you are right . . . we do need to think of a new name for that ) might run from all the sadness, when the ruckus from downstairs finally made a connection. G-Rocks! You are coming to the East coast after all! Jump for joy, little one. You can see Lush and Purl Soho and Schoolhouse (three-way? Shit, the way Ava talks, we're in for an orgy) and a subway and maybe, if you are really good, we can recreate the Rocky scene running up the stairs. Wait; that would take physical exertion and we know Lola and Ava aren't into that unless there is a Starbucks at the top of those stairs.

Jump in your traveling pouch and tell your inner-Mom voice to hush; it looks fine. Besides, the boys never look at the construction before they try the zipper. Ava is trying to pick out the Amy Butler prints that she wants for her bags. For some reason, she keeps muttering stubborn and bitch over and over again. I hope she doesn't get too involved with the Bernina again. That affair gets a bit over-wraught. Put away the cheap wine and turn on America's Next Top Model - at least no one will sing. After last night's AI, I was ready to have Ava put you on the phone to sing. Foofaraw says she is love, but she's a bit off her rocker if you ask me.

See you soon,
Monsoon

PS - We promise to stop our socks from blogging . . . they are getting a bit full of themselves. I might have to threaten Monsoon with frogging if she doesn't behave.