A tale of two yarn stores.

Having moved to the northeastern section of the D/FW metroplex from the westernmost fringes, I am in need of a new LYS. The Shabby Sheep is far and away my favorite, not merely because it is 1.3 miles from the office and equally easy to reach (if farther) from home. But it would be nice to have closer options.

I remembered that there was a shop in Richardson. Somewhere. And that the ladies who work there were pleasant. So I took a little field trip after the RS shindig, and I was even more pleased than I had been the last time. They carry the Knit Picks Harmony needle tips!!! Yes, I pay a little more than if I were to order them directly from Knit Picks, but I save time and shipping. The shop (Wool and Stitches) has new owners, as of 2010, and I spoke with one of them, and I will definitely be back.

I also made a trip to the shop in Plano. I prayed beforehand, not to go in with a chip on my shoulder because the first time I went there I was treated as if I were scheming to abscond with the family silver, and the second time I was utterly ignored. So I went back, hoping that the first two experiences had been flukes and that the shop had thawed considerably.

[Insert raspberry here.]

It was as if I were Beloved in Home Depot. The shop was busy, but not thronged. Somebody, I think a customer, smiled at me in passing. But nobody greeted me, even with a “hi, welcome, and we’ll be with you in a moment”. I am pretty hard to ignore. And I was well-dressed and well-groomed. I had, after all, just come from church. So even though they had some luscious laceweight yarns, The Woolie Ewe will not be getting my business.

Three strikes, and yer-outttt!

In other news, we sold the Taurus, and Beloved has mostly-assembled his new BBQ-smoker.  I made mac and cheese for dinner, using 6+ ounces of goat cheddar and about an ounce and a half of (sheepy) ricotta salata, a tablespoon or so of Tabasco and nearly that much red pepper flakes, several grindings of black pepper, and a skosh of Worcestershire sauce.  And a new kind of pasta, orecchiette (little ears).  Beloved liked that it did not require a lot of doctoring at the table.  I liked that it did not make my ankles blow up.  However, it did not exactly taste like mac and cheese.  But it will sustain life, and next time I will make two batches: one where I can taste the cheese, and one that is fiery enough to please Beloved.  And woe be unto him if he waves a fork in the direction of my batch!