And the Lord said, “Solani tuberosi fiant.”
A whole LOT of them, to be specific. If only Irish farmers had had access to our kitchen during the Great Potato Famine. They’d have gotten sick of potatoes, probably. Why are we suddenly wealthy in tubers and big supporters of the state of Idaho?
Because I’m an idiot and suggested that we, the family, bring a baked potato bar to the Or’Hagan potluck tomorrow. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Really, everyone loved it. Then, well, Dad got to do the shopping for said potluck item. Long story short, he got two five pound bags of potatoes. Which would have been fine if the bags hadn’t contained some veryvery green potatoes. So… they weren’t suitable for baking. Yay! 10 lbs of potatoes for me to peel, boil, and mash or stew or roast – later.
So, Mum and I got to go back out (arg) and find new and suitable-for-baking-and-consumption potatoes. Cuz, you know, it’d be really bad karma to poison the Rabbi and congregation tomorrow. Like… really, really bad karma. My stash’d probably catch fire, or get moths or something equally as awful.
But, staring at these tubers, I have a feeling that (very soon) my family and I are going to come to hate potatoes. Too bad for them, as I am a deep believer in the fact that wasting food is a sin (particularly because approximately 40,000 people die everyday from malnutrition) when others must go without. I’m not deeply religious (you could probably tell that by how much I swear) but this is my one dogmatic belief.
I spent another hour on Shawn’s first fleece today. I am … well… resigned to report that I still have 3 lbs left to pick through. I weighed it. I realised afterwards that I shouldn’t have done that. ‘Ignorance is bliss’ is an old adage for a reason.
I also found out why Shawn produced so much wool. The staple length of her fleece is… wow. Earlier, whilst picking, I managed to pull out two locks that hadn’t been opened and laid them over one of our quilting rulers:
Wanna hear something really, really funny? In Sheep’s Clothing puts the average Shetland fleece staple length at… hahaha, 2 – 5 inches. I’m not sure if I should call the editor or the Guiness people…
Ohwell. Live and learn. And get a lot of wool in the process.
I also (again) strapped some more steel to my backbone last night after posting. The X-Files were on, so I picked up the stitches for the lace border on Mum’s shawl. And, today I actually started knitting the border. I have two and a half repeats so far. Maybe by the end of the year, I’ll have this thing – well, both of these things – done:
The wonderful, exquisite, perfect knitting journal that Opus made for me is almost full and starting to die. Resignedly, I have been looking for another. I finally admitted to myself that the Stitch’n’Bitch knitter’s journal is quite nice (even though it carries the EVIL EVIL Stitch’n’Bitch logo), and bought one.
Then, soon realising that I would never use it if I had to look at that orange and green and logo. So, I covered them up. Inside and out. I quite like it now. I did have to sacrifice a knitting magazine for this, but the result was worth the price. Equivalent Exchange and all that ;D
Anyway. I seem to have come into some reckless abandon recently, as I’ve been jumping onto finishing projects which have lurked at the bottom of my stash – for fear I my fVcking them up – without care. Pick up 2oo stitches on a shawl’s edge? Sure! Handpick a 4+ lb fleece of wool? Of course!
Everyone has their insecurities. Mine involve tricky lace borders, fine Shetland lambswool, and Fair Isle. And tackling 2 out of 3 ain’t bad by my reckoning. If things continue on in this adventurous way, I just might (maybe, anything’s possible) knit up those Dalebarn sweaters.
How about this? If the Democrats sweep both the House and Senate, I’ll cast the baby sweater on.
I am sooo gonna regret that on the 7th, aren’t I?