Tuesday, August 06, 2013

The M-Words

The first M-word?  Merino!  Here it is, my wonderful Portuguese Merino, which feels more like BFL for those who care about those sorts of things.  Personally, I found it more fun to spin than other Merino and I love the feel of it now as a...shall we say....fingering weight two-ply yarn.  

The colour!  The colour!  Just shy of 600 yds, but beautiful, every inch of it.  I may have to gird my loins (so to speak) and actually knit some lace myself with this one.  The time has come!

As for the other M-word?  I am sad? horrified? disgusted? to admit that it is the most dreaded of all M-words...moths.  We got 'em.  Truth be told, Lucy sent me a text when I was almost home from Saskatoon telling me that she saw moths in one of my knitting baskets.  What?  Don't you have more than one?  Anyway, I did a search of it and didn't find much evidence so I did a rather cursory freeze/thaw routine of its contents and assumed all was well.  I made this assumption even as I was seeing little, fluttery creatures shimmering around the house each evening.  

Oh, they could be anything!  

Why in the world was I being so casual about the possibility of wool moths in a house filled with wool?  Even I can't answer that.  I finally realized that I needed to take serious action - NOW - after I actually saw the moths leaving a small pile of handspun.   As I tossed the contents of all my knitting baskets into plastic bags headed for the freezer, I was shouting, "I have probably a thousand dollars worth of wool in this house!"  Lucy was just laughing - who in their right mind has a thousand dollars worth of wool in their house?  

Your own mother, my dear.  Now, help me pack this stuff up!

I am fairly certain that the infestation (how it pains me to write that) is limited to my yarn baskets and does not include my fleece stash in the basement.  Ever the optimist!


Patti Blaine said...

Oh dear. The double negative in that last paragraph tells me that maybe subconsciously you know they're everywhere. Dry ice? Move out of the house into an ice hotel?

Robyn said...

Oh my! It was the worst kind of typo - that terrible, Freudian, subconscious typo. To be honest, I am scared to really look downstairs. I know it is stupid and counter productive but...what if....?

More loin girding may be necessary.