The Fool went off to his usual meeting with the Britches last night, while I was at a swing guitar class and short bellydancing rehearsal. When we reconvened chez Sock Knitters, he said,
"Get this! One of the new guys who came tonight said, 'I have this whole load of alpaca fleece and I don't know what to do with it. Do you know anyone who uses that kind of thing?'"
(Apparently the guy's family raises alpacas, or the guy was raised by alpacas, or the guy is an alpaca ... whatever. The Fool was sort of gabbling at me and it was late.)
So my husband leapt from his seat at the Argo Tea Cafe, upending his plate of quiche and, sock swatch flying, flung his hands wide and shouted, "Me, me, give it to me! All the alpaca is belonging to meeeeeee!!!!"
Actually, he twitched a little bit in fiberly anticipation and said, with amazing restraint, "Well, I spin a little and could probably make you some yarn. Maybe."
(Expect more alpaca news shortly. We're thinking about daytripping to Madison on Sunday for an alpaca festival. J. likes them because he can trade styling tips with the alpacas about what to do with curly hair. I like them because they are related to llamas -- and I adore llamas.)
Oh, yeah. Knitting blog.
I'm knitting socks. I cast on three pairs in some kind of rite-of-spring knitting orgy. Totally breaks my "one pair at a time" rule.