I finished it!

I finally finished the lace scarf that I've been working on for nearly a year! It's done! Pictures later.

Not Socks

Today we take a break from sock yarn. This is another yarn from Hand Spun and Dyed Too, and indeed it is handspun and hand-dyed. I bought this off eBay a couple of years ago shortly after my yarn mania truly set in. I fell in love with the colors and when it came I enjoyed the texture as I wound it into its little ball.... and that's as far as it ever went. There's less than 100 yards here, and I have no clue what I could make with it. It would felt beautifully if I wanted to felt it, but it would become even smaller then, and I don't know what I could make.

I've thought about just leaving it as a ball forever. I might do that. Every once in a while I'll just take it out, hold it and look at it for a while, and then pack it away again. Therapy yarn.

Cloudy Yarn and the Toe Butcher

I am full of excuses for why there was no yarn yesterday.

But there is yarn today:



Yes, more sock yarn. This yarn was sent by lovely Jenny as part of a Twin Cities-themed birthday package. The yarn was hand-dyed in St. Paul. Jenny said it reminded her of clouds, and as such it is completely appropriate to my new home. It does have a nice, soft cloudy look to it. This yarn will make sweet feminine socks that will be a pleasure to behold and a relief to wear. This yarn will make socks that will renew my spirit and my faith in humanity. This yarn is like wooly tea and sympathy. The yarn tells me so.

Now.

Yesterday I went to the podiatrist to have a two (or three?) week old infected ingrown toenail removed. Oh man. What you need to understand is that I am one of the most stubborn people I know when it comes to medical care. Who else would allow themselves to languish under the shadow of the lung butter (nasty resperatory infection, for the uninitiated) for a full month before finally seeking medical attention? Who else would allow their infected toe to fester into messy, bright-red hamburger (that's the podiatrist's term, by the way. Hamburger. It's an established clinical term, I'm sure) under the delusion that it "might get better"? Yes, if it weren't for modern medicine I'd be dead from some stupid infection three times over by now.

So after much butting-in and insistence from my very nice and mothering coworkers (and that's the other thing: when I do seek medical attention it's usually the product of outside intervention) I went to the specialist to tell him my sad toe-tale. He injected my full of drugs (and due to a faulty needle I actually got some extra!) and on his way out I heard him tell the nurse that I had "the works." Truly, I am a bad-ass.

He removed the rogue sliver of toenail as well as the scar tissue (hamburger) that had formed. The whole thing took less than ten minutes. I didn't feel a thing. He cut off a chunk of my toe and I didn't feel a thing! He's sending the pus off to the lab and I'm going back next week for a follow-up.

Of course, as soon as the anaesthetic wore off I had to go home from work with a swollen throbbing foot. And this morning I had to soak the bandage off. That was pleasant. You know how sometimes in bad horror movies someone will get cut open and their blood will kind of spray out in regular spurts, as if in time with their heartbeat? Well, that actually happens.

Enough said.

It's Pumpkininny!

Yarn I want to eat:



This is one skein of Pumpkin Pie sock yarn from Hand Spun and Dyed Too, which has a shop on eBay as well as etsy. I bought this yarn on etsy just last month in a fit of pumpkin-lust. I will have pumpkin pie socks! I will. This yarn looks like it should both smell and taste of pumpkin pie. But do not be fooled; it is just wool.

Library Adventurama~
My favorite reference question of the day came from a patron who had joined a Double Day book club and wanted me to tell her when her first batch of books would arrive in the mail. Did she want the email address I found as the only way of contacting this alleged book club? No, she did not. She simply wanted me to tell her when her books would arrive. Ladies and gentlemen, it is a computer, not a crystal ball.

I have begun to notice an unpleasant side effect of doing reference work, and it is that as soon as I leave the library I hate, just hate, being asked questions. While I am in the library I am paid to answer (or at least, try to answer) as many random-ass questions as the public can throw at me. I am paid to find things for them and to fetch books, various media, and sundry information. And because of this I now feel like I'm being taken advantage of whenever a stranger stops me on the sidewalk to ask me for the time, a cigarette, or directions to the post office. I'm sure that I'm not alone in this. In fact I'm willing to bet that this feeling is so widespread that if might qualify as a syndrome. Now. What shall we call our hating-work-like tasks-when-one-is-off-the-clock syndrome? Suggestions welcome.