I joined Hat Attack. (the premise is the same as Sock Wars)

My target is in Canada. My assassin is in Massachusetts. eep!
on the possibly plus side, her assassin is also in Mass. - I’m hoping that works in my favor!

so, tonight I am swatching, gathering all necessary needles and supplies (stitch markers and the like), and hitting the post office for a flat-rate envelope and customs forms.

I am hoping that my ability to knit a project in a day will help me. I am also thankful for the 24-hour post office over by the airport, should I get done early enough to get the hat over there before the last collection on Saturday.

here’s hoping I make it past the first round. wish me luck.

and it is Kashka.

I came home from my spinning class, bypassed my office and headed for the tv (where dh was watching House). Went to go stalk my spinning wheel on ebay, turned on the light and thankfully stopped before getting too far, since a glass jar holding knitting needles was no longer in one piece. Chaos (no, not the cat Chaotic) had visited my room.

behold:

which used to be more-or-less neatly located in/on here:

when I opened the door, the shelf was covering the mess, knitting needles were strewn, and there was broken glass in the path. we vacuumed/cleaned that up and removed the shelf.

as punishment for her actions, I will be moving the shelf to a different wall (where it will hopefully be less prone to tipping. for that matter, Kashka will probably be less likely to make it her perch), rendering it useless as a kitty perch for looking out the window.

in knitting news, there is potential disaster brewing there as well - I am dangerously close to running out of yarn before I finish this hat. thankfully, I’m decreasing every other round, so there is a smidgen of hope that I will not. (the yarn, should you have some in your stash, is Southwest Trading Company’s Karaoke, color 286 -Copper-, dye lot 2.)

I’ll update you on the roving I dyed and my adventures in spinning tomorrow.

I’m joining in the poetry reading this year.

Since I am an Irish dancer, and Brigid is an Irish Goddess/Saint (depending who you talk to), I give you a poem by an Irish poet.

THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
William Butler Yeats

When I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.

I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.

When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;

For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:

And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’
And dance like a wave of the sea.