Chickenlips Knitting

Woohoo, it's here! This is 3/4 of my shipment of undyed fingering weight yarn. Tomorrow nothing's on the calendar except dyeing. I should have some pretty pictures up this weekend. All I need now is a skein winder--but that's going to have to wait, as taking the sizable pay cut to work in a yarn shop (see, I told ya, my practical self is saying to my passionate self, which says back, "you're such a bore") has made it necessary for me to get rather conversational with my creditors. Not the kind of stuff I really want to be blogging about, trust me on that. Back to skein winding--I've been using my handy-dandy niddy-noddy. The magic formula for manual winding: 250 reps = 100 grams. I'm getting either deltoids to die for or a separated shoulder, can't quite figure out which one. But it's all good.

Scene: My dining room table/workbench, strewn with assorted craft, knitting and beading projects. Silently and unbeknownst to me, working in tandem with my dachshunds Jimmy and Buster, Hannibal the kitten climbs up onto the dining room table, while I sit in my knitting chair in the next room a-knittin'. He knocks to the floor one of the finished "knitting bags" I have made as part of the set of five that someone ordered from me a few days ago. Fortunately, it was just the knitted miniature bag--I hadn't yet filled them with mini-yarn hanks and mini-needles. That last one especially would have been problematic, because as you have probably guessed, the next thing I hear is Buster happily chomping away on something. This is, incidentally, the first time he has ever eaten wool. I quickly snatched the soggy mess away from him, before he could eat enough to get sick, but not before he'd rendered the piece unsalvageable. A minor inconvenience, as I have to make a new one. I had no choice but to ground them both. Yesterday, I took both dogs to the new dog park in our area. They had a blast--Buster running around barking his little head off at everything and everybody, and Jimmy just running around with what was once a tennis ball in his mouth, approaching any and all two-legged creatures, as he assumes they all want to play with him.

Debbie who?