Yarnfidelity

The lust you feel when you open the catalogue and see a new colorway in a favorite yarn. No matter that you already have four projects on your needles. There is no known antidote. Even flagellating yourself with a rolled-up budget spreadsheet only takes the fever down a notch or two.

My solution is to keep the catalogue on my reading shelf in the loo, far away from the keyboard, the phone, and the debit card.

Today would have been Dad’s 104th birthday. He died 19 years ago last month. I wonder if there is birthday cake in Heaven, a brief celebration to mark a life well-lived, in the midst of all he is doing to build the Kingdom and bless this family from the other side of the veil. Middlest shared with me, when we were talking quietly one night, some of the things he did for her when she was a small child, after his passing. They are her stories, and they are sacred, so I will not share them here. But I know by the witness of the Spirit that they are true, and not idle fancies or vain imaginings.

We are all connected, and we remain connected by bonds of love even after we leave this earth, and the sealing powers which are exercised in the temple are the welding links between the generations and will continue throughout the eternities.

Some of you came here for the knitting. I am looking at the fallow end of the couch.



In five ten fifteen minutes it will not look like this. [I forgot to allow for shredding time.] The grocery store fliers will be in the recycling totes. The dry-cleaning will be ready to go out the door. The magazines I’ve read will go into my give-away pile, and the ones I’ve yet to read will go onto that shelf in the loo. The RS stuff will be back in its tote. Why all this flurry of domesticity? Because I strongly suspect that my tape measure is buried under there, and I need to gauge the depth of the armscye to know if it is time to bind off for the shoulder on the back of Autumn Asters.

Well, I was wrong about the tape measure. It wasn’t on the couch. I pulled up all the tuckings-in on the slipcover. Nada. I suppose the next item on the list is to get down on my hands and knees with a flashlight and see if it is under the couch.

But the flashlight is out in the car. [I do know where the car is!] And thankfully, I also know where the ruler is that belonged to my sister when she was a girl; it tells me that I need to work two more rows before I can begin binding off the shoulders.

And some people think that knitting is boring... This morning I have had mystery, archaeology, and recycling, all before breakfast!