My office is in a converted house. Next door is an actual house, which was occupied for many years by a very nice woman named Mrs. Harp. She had a beautiful garden, and she was friendly and personable and generally well-loved. Last winter, Mrs. Harp passed away. A few weeks ago, her heirs held a yard sale. Several people in the office went over and bought some things, but I frugally tried to stay away. It was when one of my coworkers said, "I bet she was a knitter..." that I gave in.
Well, if Mrs. Harp was a knitter, someone else got her knitting things. I did make a few finds, though--a nice big suitcase, some old Tupperware, and a few bags of yarn. The yarn itself was terrible: old acrylic, the kind that feels like tinsel spun into yarn. But at the bottom of one of the bags, there were two crochet hooks and a couple of old pattern books. Score! Happily, they let me take the hooks and books and leave the yarn.
This morning I finally got around to looking through one of the books: an old McCall's crochet book. Look what I can make!
And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
You're jealous, I can tell.
I tried to take some sari silk purse pictures again, and this is the best I could do:
It's a bit dark, still, and I can't decide if it's out of focus or just looks that way because the yarn is fuzzy. It's about 8 1/2" long, and right now, about 1/2" deep.
Finally, yesterday after work I knit the last 20 leg rows on David's kilt hose, then measured it--Um, did I say I only had 20 rows to go? I meant 45. So, 25 more! Whee!