A big fat box of WHITE
I blame Willa. Willa is my friend and my web designer and one of the first on-line journalers. I've been following her life for maybe twelve years now and its entirely her fault that I followed her right back into knitting.
It was the Chinchilla scarf that did it. I read the instructions. They seemed easy enough, even for someone who hadn't touched a pair of needles since 1986. I read about Berroco Chinchilla yarn. I bought some on eBay. I dug out a pair of aluminum straights.
And then I cast on and the rest is (sadly for my bank account) history.
Oh the wonders of a Chinchilla scarf! The soft splendor of it! The miracle of fluffy goodness that hides a multitude of sins. And when you strand it with sequins -- oo la la!
Do I really have to tell you that I bought a whole mess of Chinchilla? Do I really have to tell you that I knitted so many Chinchilla scarves that PETA investigated my output just to be sure I was endangering only Acrylics?
And are you the least bit surprised that I found a motherlode tucked away in my office closet behind the college-ruled spiral notebooks and the boxes of Paper Direct goodies I haven't touched since the early 90s?
Of course you're not surprised. You know me too well for that. So how about helping a struggling knitter make room for some new goodies and casting in your lot for a box of fluffy WHITE? Send me an email here with WHITE in the subject header and sometime tomorrow I'll announce a winner. (It's not as snaggled as it looks in the photo. It's still neatly tied together in a hank but a tad rumpled.)
You too could be the proud knitter of 587 fluffy sequinned scarves!
(If you have a moment, check out Willa's terrific jewelry on Etsy. Her storefront is called Intentional Charms--a great place to do some holiday shopping.)