I've been letting this blog sit because I'm not into chronicling my every fart; I like to post when there's movement on the knitting/crocheting/sewing/painting front -- some pretty thing to show and talk about. Or least when interesting things are happening. I lost my job at the end of December, and things just didn't look very interesting after that. It wasn't losing that particular job that proved a downer. It was having to dig down deep and find, at 43, the fortitude to pursue the things that are really important to me, like writing. I'm still digging, but I see gold at the bottom of the well.
In the meantime, I got a new part-time job, because it's good to have at least a semblance of a schedule. My new job is an "in-betweener," something to do while applying for work in my field. I started today, and I hesitate to call it work. My job warrants a post, because it's here:
(There's an adorable tiny Natalie on the porch because we took these pictures on one of her visits. I borrowed them from her blog. Thanks, Natalie.)
Knitting in the Loop, Houston's brightest, loveliest knitting store. Probably the worst possible place for a yarnaholic like me to work. (I like cake too, which is why you'd never catch me working at a bakery.) But the staff is ever so nice, the yarn selection is wonderful, and there's a steady stream of regulars who like to come sit and knit. Several of them belong to the knitting group I attend on Thursday mornings; so friends drop in all the time.
I told Judy, the store's owner, that she might as well go ahead and pay me in yarn. I'll need a part-time job to pay for this part-time job, yeesh. If you've never been in a knitting store when a fresh shipment of yarn arrives, you're missing a spectacle. It's like watching piranhas attack a steak. One of my tasks today was to put price tags on yarn. It would've been easy enough if my hands didn't keep fondling every hank I was supposed to price. And has anyone noticed how accessories keep getting cuter? My, my, my. I've got my eye on a little sheep that functions as a scissors fob. Retardedly unnecessary, but one is sure to follow me home.
If ever you should find yourself in Houston, now you know where to find yarn (and me).