Introduction

(This is my first entry in The Amazing Lace.)

On November 12, 2005, I was having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I was sad and grouchy and clearly in need of some retail therapy. At the time, I was living in Princeton, New Jersey, which has a rather nice downtown shopping area complete with a very good yarn store. I wandered around, looked at the yarn and browsed the books sitting out on the table. And then I saw it: Wrap Style. Things that I could make that would wrap me up and keep me warm and cozy and happy. I bought it and walked out feeling slightly better about the universe.

Fast-forward to the following weekend, when I finished my first lace shawl, the Flower Basket Shawl. As you can see from that post, I loved it (and still do). It's so soft and cozy, and it makes me feel good about myself when I wear it. (I wear it to work: I may be having trouble figuring out our old software, but by God, I can knit some really cool stuff.) I'd been reading my new book all week, and while the Shoulder Cozy and Spiral Shell looked warm and comfy, I kept coming back to the Wrapped in Tradition lace shawl. (I can't call it a poncho. It shares no traits with the archetype of a poncho.) I went out yarn-shopping but I was insistent on making it with the recommended yarn, Douceur et Soie, and so I was thwarted by the yarn stores. I bookmarked the page and went back to my sock- and holiday-knitting.

A month later, we packed everything up and moved across the country, from NJ to Colorado. On the way, we spent a few days at my parents' house in Kansas. I'd been planning a trip to the Yarn Barn, a great yarn store in Lawrence. Armed with a gift certificate from my parents, I swept through the store, picking up sock yarn (Trekking), books (Knitting on the Road), and the exact yarn I'd been wanting. Douceur et Soie, three skeins, pale blue. I admired it, petted it, and set it on my worktable where it languished for a month or two.

At one point, probably in the midst of my two months of unemployment, I picked up the yarn and the book, cast on, and knit five rows of very tricky lace. It's one of those patterns where you have to stare at the pattern constantly and mutter to yourself, "knit, purl, k2t, double yarnover, knit knit purl." Obviously you have to do this at home, so there are no distractions and no one looks at you funny. I haven't picked it up again since; too busy with Knitting Olympics and socks and learning to spin. But now, we're ready. We're a team. We're joining The Amazing Lace, and nothing's going to stop us now.