Yarn Along: in my basket, on the page

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One week ago I found out a special island mama pal was having a baby girl.  I had eight short days to complete the sweater before the big pink-ballooned revealed-to-her bash.  Two evenings until 2:30 am, clanking of stainless needles while Netflix movies like the 1980s ski flick Hot Dog kept me smiling and knitting.  
I bought Cascade Yarns 220 Superwash Paints [Col. # 9860, Lot # 3258] at our island’s only yarn store, and as the new owner wound the skeins into a ball, my girls squealed with delight.  
When I grow up, I’m going to have sheep and spend each night winding up all their fur with this machine, said Lucy, three notches above super-excited.  The lady asked if Lucy wanted to wind the second skein, and with all the jumping and giggling it wasn’t a shock when my crown-clad middle girl said, this is the best day of my whole week.  
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It’s so convenient my girls love a good yarn shop, and I’m pretty sure it’s where Olive learned her colors.
I asked the lovely Amanda what she’s loved the most for her newest baby girl, and she recommended Kelly Brooker’s Puerperium Cardigan.  Somehow, even after the births of three girls, puerperium is a new word for me.

puerperium n. the approximate six-week period post birth.  

The cardigan is designed for ease of dress, not to mention intense attention to style.  My friend’s other two babies were rather large, so instead of the newborn size, I knit the 3-6 month size.  
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I blocked it on our sailboat’s stern in the sunlight, and weaved the ends in while my girls ate s’mores and looked overboard for schools of fish, shrimp and Popeye, Friday Harbor’s grey-eyed seal.  
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I’ve never knit anyone else’s babies a sweater before, so I can not wait to see it on her in just a few months.

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I love the pink, shiny buttons and feel that my label from my sewn line were the finishing touches that made me smile.  
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I’m writing a play.  Well, the scenes are swirling inside my head right now, lines stacking up somewhere inside my brain beside bad early 1990s lyrics and stockpiled telephone numbers.  I’m in the research phase, and devouring so much nonfiction about the late 1890s to the early 1940s as it pertains to my play.  This is both awesome and energy-consuming.  I’m not totally ready to fall head over heels for characters, to stay awake with a page turner.  
So, I’ve picked up a bad habit.  I typically have about fifteen minutes from when my head hits the pillow until I fall asleep.  I download preview excerpts from books onto my tablet.  Flipping through the Kindle store, I pick a few books based on their blurbs to try out.  So far, all the ones I’d done the nights before hadn’t been noteworthy enough to seek out in entirety.  A Discovery of Witches was my last and, well, yuck.
Last night’s first was Juno’s Daughters by Lise Saffran.  On the very first page the characters are getting off on this island, San Juan Island, to work with a theatre company based on one I know very well, Island Stage Left.  Crazy.  Check.  I’ll be reading that one.
The second was The World as We Know It.  It’s about a drowning in a New Hampshire lake.  I’m hooked, since I know that state very well.  The writing is familiar, its cadence very familiar.  Oh!  I flip to the cover, and it’s written by my college professor and advisor Joseph Monninger.  Check.  I’ll be ordering that one, and sending him an letter.
And since all good things happen in threes, proved daily in our daughters, I’d placed the third excerpt months ago and somehow forgot about it:  Apron Anxiety. I’d wanted to buy the actual book since it’s written by Alyssa Shelasky, a high school classmate and pal.  Familiar, comical awesomeness.  Can’t wait.
Interesting each excerpt lead me from present, to past, to where it all began.  
Not sure which one I’ll read first, cover to cover.
It’s such a small world, really.  
I’m reminded daily, if not eveningly.
xoxo
:::
joining Ginny for yarn along.

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