Our trip to the East Coast for Thanksgiving was really great. The food was incredibly delicious, the weather was real weather-y, and some of my knitted garments got to do what they were put on this earth to do -- keep my tender neck warm.
The trip also entailed a serious appreciation of the out-of-this-world-ness of the shops in Brooklyn. They have cornered the market on cute and righteous, I tell you what. Hip clothing, beads, cheese, wine, baby stuff, books -- all distinct stores that are there simply to crush you. The worst offender, in my humble opinion? The Brooklyn General Store.
Man oh man, people. This store.
Do you ever have the experience of walking into a place and not being able to see anything because everything is just so compelling? Yarns. Fabrics. Quilts on display. Dark hardwood floors and cute styling everywhere you turn. I mean, seriously. It was too much. It was absolutely too much holy shit! all in one place.
So, get a load of this fabric. It's flannel.
Flannel! What will they think of next?
I was so overcome with dizzying confusion that all I could do was buy this flannel and a couple of skeins of Misti Alpaca and get the hell out of there. (As they say: If you'd have been there. If you'd have seen it. I bet you you would have done the same.)
My trip into the city to Purl? A horse of a slightly different color. Still overwhelming. Still hard to see everything. But I'd been there before, so I knew what to expect: light-headedness, lack of oxygen to the brain, drooling. All the signs you know you're in a good fabric store and/or having a medical emergency.
I'll tell you more about Purl at another time. For now let's just gaze upon two fabrics I bought -- buns and birds.
No idea what this is for. But I can't find enough expletives to capture how passionately I feel about this fabric.
Thanksgiving: If you come home cursing like a sailor, you know you did it right.