Firstly, my weekend with HNB and my family went very well. He liked them, they liked him, everyone behaved and was polite. Food was cooked, beer was drank, a hotel was stayed in and doggies went to their grandparent's houses so their respective mommy and daddy could sleep peacefully and beyond the hour of 6am...all was good with the world. We played in the pools at my aunts' houses, went for a boat ride along the St. Lawrence River with my dad and brother...all in all it was good times.
We "took the scenic" route yesterday and the trip home took us about eight and a half hours when it should only take about four, but we did stop at HNB's family camp. It was beautiful and peaceful and I look forward to making him take me up there in the fall when the leaves change colors so we can enjoy another weekend of dog-less wonder.
Here are pictures. In retrospect, I wish I had taken a little movie of it so that you could hear the water rushing past...it was surprisingly loud and I fear if we were there for any length of time I would be tinkling a lot.
In the last one, you can kind of see how orange the water is. HNB said because of all the leather tanning they used to do in the area, the water still flows with a pretty strong orange tint. Whatever, it is beautiful and I wanted to go jump around in it, but I only had my Crocs with me and they are not the best shoes to be wearing in rapidly moving water, IMO, so I stayed on the shore and took pictures. At least I took pictures until my camera ran out of batteries.
We drove home through the Adirondack Park, and poor HNB (who had to listen to me say "Ooh, babe look - a kayak!" every time I saw one strapped to a car) was forced to listen to "Ooh, babe I wish I had my kayak!" as we dove past about a gazillion calm lakes and slow moving streams that are perfect for the type of kayaking I like to do. I need to "gently encourage" HNB to get a kayak and then get a roof rack for my car and we can just take off and go kayaking like a couple of kayakers.
What, "this is supposed to be a knitting blog" you say? Well, here is where the disappointment comes in (see, the rest of the post, completely lacking in disappointment because I was one very happy knitter all weekend!). Whilst driving home yesterday, I saw a sign that said, amongst other things, "yarn shop." HNB, being the best boyfriend ever, pulled a u-turn and promptly delivered me, wallet in hand, to the "yarn shop."
We pulled in the driveway, and seeing as the sign instructed us to "blow your horn," HNB tooted the tooter and we waited. Nothing.
Eventually, the neighbor came out and went to go get the people who lived in the house with a sign that said "yarn shop." At this point in the story, I would like to take this opportunity to explain a little more about where we were, geographically speaking.
We were in the middle of East Bumblef*ck, on what amounted to a mass of farm land. One could assume, with a sign that says "yarn shop" given the geographic location of the area that even though sheep were not visible, they must be close by, right???
Eventually, a very old gentleman came out and said yes, they had yarn and it was in the house. HNB stayed outside to entertain the dog and I walked through a dirty garage into a dirty house that smelled like kitty tinkle, the gentleman who came out of the house called to his wife that "there was a yarn customer" and he opened the door to a small room and told me to go in because his wife would be right with me.
I walked in, and it was filled with acrylic. Not even good acrylic. We're talking pastel baby yarn from 1973 and really, really, really old musty patterns and toilet paper crochet cover things. I waited until the lady came into the room, and politely asked if she had any wool. Because, it as obvious the beautiful handspun and dyed wool from the beautiful flock of invisible sheep must be hiding somewhere that was safe from the obviously evil peeing kitties. Her response, gentle blog readers, sent chills down my spine:
"I am allergic to wool, don't use it so I don't sell it."
She said this with a straight face as if her being allergic somehow made it okay for her to call this sorry collection of yarn a "yarn shop." Truth be told, it was more of a moderate sized stash of really bad yarn. I felt duped. I felt sad. I felt like I wanted to cry.
In the end, I said thank you, but that I really was looking for wool, and then we made small talk about an atrocious cardigan that had been knitted in a very scratchy acrylic yarn in a color that would not be becoming in a person the size it was knitted for. Then I left. Empty handed.
HNB looked at me quizzically when I came back to the car, and I tried not to laugh/cry as I told him it was okay to get back in the car because there would be no purchases here. For Miss Kniternet had struck out at bat, and there would be no stash enhancing opportunity that day. Nope. No new yarn for me.
We trudged on home, and I sat there not knitting (because while I brought my knitting with me, there was no actual knitting performed all weekend - sorry Lawyer Friend, I promise the baby sweater will be finished soon - opening day of the track tomorrow means HNB is out of the picture until Friday...I have lots of free time!), even though I did have about ten hours in the car that were prime knitting time - two hours were lost to sleep - I just so enjoyed being a passenger for the first time in a zillion years that I stared out the window and HNB and I had good car conversation.
All in all it was a great trip, even if the lack of truth in advertising did cause me to think there was yarn available where there was only crap. The doggies had fun, HNB and I had fun and I think I speak for everyone when I say we are happy to be home. On a final note, super cute picture of my dog and his nephew Sam (my parents' dog) playing in the backyard with my brother. Peace out - post tomorrow...I promise!
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