And I’m in it.
Yesterday Mom and Dad came and dragged my grinchtastic ass out of the house to try to instill some “Christmas spririt” in me after my bah-humbug episode last weekend. I wasn’t entirely up to it after a tiring week, but I don’t spend enough time with the fam and R. Darling was working anyway, so I knew it would make them happy.
We went to the Allied Arts Holiday Festival of the Arts to see what the local artisans have been crafting up and then over to the Pacific Arts Holiday Market which we didn’t even know existed, but is apparently in its 11th year here. There’s always a lot of interesting things to see because we live in a very crunchy (read: granola, read: nouveau hippie, read: tree hugging free spirits – not that there’s anything wrong with that) sort of burg filled with lots of green sorts of folks and artists that make interesting variations of traditional arts as well as some whimsical and occasionally frightening items that you would never see anywhere else. There are definite uniqueities here (new word, hee).
Imagine my surprise, after rounding a corner of white trashy bead work and potholders, to find a booth with the most gorgeous handspun staring right back at me. Spincycle whispering softly: Here I am. You know you want to stop. Astonished, I stopped in my tracks and mumbled to Mom and Dad that they’d better move on without me. “Oh, does that mean you want to spend some time here?” Dad says. “Um yeah”, I mumble, already mesmerized and drooling uncontrollably. How could I not know they were here? How did I miss such magic in my own town? Even Glampyre knows they exist, and Interweave too.
OMG. I am in Trouble with a capital T. In a daze I dropped a fat load of cash on 3 skeins of this and the pattern for this. My mouth is going dry right now thinking about it. And I want more. NOW. Oh why did I have to discover handspun? Because now I need to find about 4 more jobs, one of them possibly in a seedy dark bar where they “tip” really well, forget about my mocha habit, and eating for that matter, to find the money to feed this new habit. I’m a handspun junkie now. Life will never be the same.
But could you resist this either?