I stayed in a really old hotel last night. They sent me a wake-up letter.--Steven Wright
Marshmallow mattresses should be banned from hotel rooms. Or at least, you should be allowed to select your mattress when you book your room, as you do other amenities. This past Saturday night, I moshed right into the mattress and woke up feeling my age.
I have loved hotels since I was old enough to run amok in them. And my grandparents, who were sehr europäisch, made sure that the family spent hours and hours eating endless Sunday or birthday meals in New York City's Plaza Hotel's Oak Room. I would make my escape as quickly as possible on the pretext of going to the ladies' room. From there, it was off to ride the elevators, wander the lobby, talk to the concierge, check out the private parties, look in the shop windows. And then wander back to my family, where my grandfather would let me draw pictures on the tablecloth with his pen.
I was Eloise incarnate, and about the same age too. When the book came out in 1955, I was immediately presented with a copy by my mother, who found Eloise charming but my behavior not so.
When I start feeling too adult, I go back and read Eloise. As Eloise said, "I am Eloise. I am six. I am a city child. I live at the Plaza." Whenever I stay in a hotel, I think of The Plaza and swiping petit-fours from the cart in the Palm Court. Sometimes it's good to remember when you were six and hotels were your personal amusement parks.
A Curious Mix
Yarn and candles, oh my. My trip with Corinne and Liz to Massachusetts was a whirlwind success, although Corinne and I were wiped out by the time we got home yesterday afternoon.
Going to WEBS is almost overwhelming. You have to have a plan or you're going to shop indiscriminately and buy tons of shit. My plan was to buy 8/2 cotton for weaving and that was that.
Walking up and down the WEBS's warehouse aisles, I was blown away by the cones and cones of amazing stuff: 60/2 silk, so fine that I can't even imagine warping a loom with it; chenille for weaving (don't worry, Loop, I didn't even consider it); and Shetland 2-ply and other weights of silk. And all cheap.
So I bought some Shetland (left) and some silk (right).
I swore I wasn't going to buy any knitting yarn but since I'm a pushover grandmother, I bought Liz some Rasta colors for socks and a scarf, two skeins of each color.
I haven't a clue as to when I'll even get to these. And the idea of making plain stripes makes me want to choke. But the kid wants stripes. I'll work my way around the "plain" for sure. Maybe a slip-stitch stripe pattern. This whole Rastafarian thing started when Liz went on a cruise to Bermuda this summer with her father. She's very involved with music anyway--plays the drums. However, now it's Bob Marley, reggae and Rasta colors.
Fortunately, she does not want dreadlocks.
Yeah, I'm full of it.
Two friends just started their own blogs, so it's Flog the Blog day. Ted Myatt and Carol S., both inimitible knitting talents in their own rights, have finally gotten off their asses and started blogs. Ted's blog, KnitterGuy, already has a wealth of information on spinning fine yarns. And Ted does incredible lace as well. I have enormous respect for his abilities.
You all know Carol S., past winner of the Christmas Crap-along, designer of Bipolar Betty and guest hostess on QJ's blog. We've been pestering her for months to start her own blog and now she's stepped in shit but good. Traipse over to goknitinyourhat and load up her Comments with annoying suggestions as to what kind of hat she should knit in and whether you take knitting needles on planes. Then discuss.
At least you know on both these blogs that the writing will be worth reading. Yay Ted. Yay Carol. Yay knitting.
And now it's time for me to get back to my regularly scheduled rare and handy work.