Yarn in a Bag

I'm going to start by saying my husband rocks. He cooks, he cleans (occasionally), he rubs my feet, he buys me yarn.

Whoa, I know what you're thinking out there, Yarn Hos, but you need to step off. Don't make me pull out the pointy needles...

So knowing my obsession, the Cap'n surprises me last weekend with 8 balls of Debbie Bliss Cathay in medium blue and cream. Go ahead, click on the link, the only experience missing is rubbing it up against your cheek.

It's cotton, it's silk, it's sin in a ball.

And it's in a bag right now in his closet.

That's right. I'm banned (!) from using it until I get my other projects finished. What kind of sadistic person hands a fiber snob some of the most lovely yarn ever spun, says "it's all yours," then takes it away??!?!

The Cap'n.

It's supposed to be "a motivator" to get past my Knitter ADD. It's supposed to be the fiber carrot for this slow knitting donkey. So until I finish up some of the other projects (OMG, there's too many!!), no dreaming about the Picovoli. No thinking about the Cathay pattern book. Forget the cute Mimosa tanktop. I can't yet use the leftovers as a cute little belt.

It's good thing I love him. Otherwise yarn makes a nice garrote.