This was one of the first scarves I ever knitted. Back in '04.
Life was easier back then.
Ah, back in '04 I'd go to the store, and some yarn would catch my eye. (This will be the opening line of my book of poetry: Ernest Tender presents Sweaters and Yanni. The poem will be called Mittens. Look for it at a bookseller near you.)
Anyhoo, back to the yarn. Here's what I'd think back then: Nubblets of color. Just a touch of the shiny. Little furry parts? I'm intrigued.
And that's all it took. I was so amazed they could cram all that mess into one yarn, I'd buy it. I'd sit and knit with that yarn, and next thing you know I'd have a scarf.
No longer sufficient! I can't just go to the store and pick out a hodgepodge of a yarn and make a scarf. Don't be ridiculous! This is what happens in my mind at the yarn store now:
I would never like or wear something made of this.
And that's the end of that.
And yet, I wear the shiny, furry, nubbletty scarf a lot. It is not comfy, cozy, or particularly pretty. But it goes with just about every damn thing I own. It just does.
I long for simpler days, people. I really do.
Maybe I will turn April around with a new rule: new yarn must have at least 5 mix-ins. Toffee, chocolate chips, marshmallow fluff, Heath bar, and fudge. Yes. That's it. That is exactly the next yarn I am going to buy. And then I am going to make the most delicious scarf you ever saw. And you will want to eat it, and you will ask me if you can have a bite, and I will say, "No. You most certainly may not." And since it will go with everything I own, I shall wear it every day.
Simpler days, here I come!