The Postman Cometh

Oh boy! There's a key in my mailbox - again. That can only mean one thing: I've got a package.

It's been a pretty frequent occurrence as I make another appearance on these pages in my "yarn whore gone wild" persona. Even the handpainted merino wool arrived, its soft, inviting hanks taunting me through the plastic. I took a couple of these gorgeous woollies to knit night, whereupon everyone took turns fondling the goods.

Our newest member, Kate, even rubbed both sides of her face with the yarn. Coffee shop passersby were, no doubt, perplexed by this behavior. Not us. We sat, smiling in mute understanding.