Souvenir Yarn

Local-made yarn (or fiber) is my favorite kind of souvenir.  When I was in Saskatoon at the beginning of November, we hit two yarn stores in the time between a wedding and its reception.  At the first one I got a skein of Malabrigo, which is pretty non-local to Saskatchewan, but at the second I got some locally farmed alpaca.  (I also later received two pounds of Romney roving from YBIL, and am guessing it was also fairly local.)  Didn’t take pictures, though.

Also managed to hit two yarn stores in Vancouver last week, on the same day. Had a higher local-to-foreign ratio this time.

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Top to bottom and left to right:

  • Merino 4/8, color (I think) Victoria, dyed by Emily Dempsey, sister of Jana Dempsey (Hand Maiden/Fleece Artist).  I think they’re in Nova Scotia? No tag because apparently Emily only sent one tag for the entire bag, which the store owner also had to twist up.
  • Hand Maiden Lino, color Fire Opal, probably Nova Scotia.  Could get this online but her stuff is variable enough to want to pick out in person.
  • Sweet Georgia superwash merino, color Rosebud.  Had not known she was Canadian previously.  Most of the yarn I saw was solid, but this one has some nice orangey/coral tones.
  • Riverside Studio Merino Singles, color Eddy.  From Quebec.  Not previously familiar with this dyer.
  • Atelier Franziska Uhl Handgefarbte  Sockenwolle, color Wassermeist / Merman.  Not Canadian, but apparently the store I got it from is the only store outside of Europe selling her stuff.
  • Spincycle Yarns Dyed in the Wool, color Snow Hero. Washington state, which is closer to Vancouver than it is to me.

I’ve already started a scarf with the Merino 4/8.

I Am Number X

Since our trip last week was for my older brother-in-law’s wedding, we met a lot of family.  Both my mother-in-law and my father-in-law come from fairly large families (7 and 9 kids, respectively), in which they’re the eldest.  Maybe a third of my aggregate aunts and uncles by marriage came for the wedding from Australia and Singapore.  And the introductions all went something like this one, from the night we arrived:

MIL: These are my sisters from Australia.

Aunt: Pleased to meet you. I’m Number Three.

Other Aunt: And I’m Number Seven.

Me: (blinks and looks hunted) Um, what are your names?

MIL: Fong and Ming.  (Who are often called Samyi and… I forget the other one, but it’s “Third Aunt” and “Seventh Aunt”, by my husband and his brothers.)

The next day, I met some uncles, my FIL’s brothers, and their wives.  I think they at least started with their names before their numbers.  Then, that evening, there was a family dinner with one more uncle and his wife.

Wife: I’m Number Two.

Me (internally): Aaugh.

Thankfully, their daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren did not come with numbers attached.

Brrr.

Yesterday was our last day in Vancouver.  We got up late, packed, then went to Go Fish, a little fish-and-chips stall near Grandville Island.  It’s right next to the water, and at this time of day and year the tiny seating area was entirely in shadow, though there’s a heat lamp or two.

A family of four or five were there.  The mother was sitting on a (metal) chair directly under the heat lamp, with a small boy on her lap.  Both were wearing what looked like heavy jackets.  The father was at the counter waiting for the food, where there was also a water dispenser and cups.

Father: Want some water?

Mother (annoyed): NO. Nothing cold.

Father gets water anyway and puts the cup on the table near the boy.

Mother: I said, no cold water.  It’s too cold.  (to the boy) Don’t drink that, it’ll make you colder.

Boy reaches for cup as she talks and drinks.

Mother: Why did you do that?! It’s cold. It’ll make you colder.

Boy (slightly indignant): I’m thirsty.

It was the clearest example of “I’m cold, put on a sweater” that I’ve ever seen.  The kid was wearing a jacket and sitting on a presumably warm lap under a heat lamp.  The mother, I saw when they were leaving, was wearing thin leggings or yoga pants while sitting on a metal chair (which was cold, as I know since I was sitting on one too).  Why she hadn’t put jeans on over her leggings, I’ve no idea.  Why it never occurred to her that her kid, who was about to eat salty fish and chips, might be thirsty, I’ve also no idea.

The fish and chips were delicious, by the way.  Even if by the end of the meal my fingertips were going numb and my backside was an ice block.  The rest of me was fine.

One is not enough

Visited our friends Graeme and Katie in Vancouver last week.  Both of them adore cats but are massively allergic.  Still, they haven’t ruled out the possibility of a cat joining their household someday.

Spouse: But you’d need two, to keep each other company.  Though some cats are okay being alone.  CMY would love being an only cat.

Me: The problem is, she’d want ME to be her person.  And I’m pretty sure I’m polycatual.

Graeme: (guffaws) Polycatual.