Guess what came yesterday?
My buttons! The very same buttons I ordered back In August, that arrived in early September and were found to be almost comically oversized (three inches when I asked for two….that’s what she said?) then got re-ordered in October and FINALLY arrived yesterday, November 16, after much hand wringing and worrying and obnoxious emails to their maker, a sweet man in Virginia named Jim.
I imagine that if you read my emails aloud they would sound increasingly shrill, featuring alarmingly passive aggressive inquiries along the lines of
I hate to bother you again but it’s been a month and I’m just wondering if you have a tracking number for those fantastic buttons or if you have any idea where they might be?
(DON’T MESS WITH ME JIM I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE AND SO HELP ME GOD I WILL COME FIND YOU AND RIP THOSE BUTTONS FROM YOUR COLD DEAD HANDS)
So, you know, just, if you have a spare second maybe you could possibly check into that for me? Please? I NEED THIS. Love those buttons!
And then all my panicking paid off because they arrived! A mere nine days before the market, these beautiful hand made birch buttons. I’m in love and, more importantly, so much less stressed than I was two days ago. Because the buttons came, I could finally put finishing touches on all of the neck cowls, (literally) tie up loose ends and pack them up to go to market, jiggity jig.
This is what 28 neck cowls looks like stuffed into a Rubbermaid bin.
This is the rest of the stuff waiting to be checked and packed- baby toques and adult toques and probably some baby leg warmers thrown in there too.
Our guest room is currently serving as workshop central, I fell asleep in there last night and when I woke up this morning I had wool wrapped around my ankle and a crochet hook jabbing me in the ribs. I was Gulliver in the land of Yarn, awoken in mid-colonization. I’m glad I woke when I did because otherwise I would have probably morphed into this:
As you can see, the above picture features two presumably normal people in head-to-toe knitted bodysuits, which, incidentally, Adam has been begging me to make him since I started this whole endeavor. Without fail, every single time he looks at the giant pile of scarves and toques he shakes his head wistfully, “That could have made like two whole bodysuits” he’ll sigh.
I don;t know guys, part of me knows that he’s joking but there’s another small part that’s like OMFG! And I feel strongly that if I make him one, some line in our marriage will have been irrevocably crossed and one day he would just refuse to take it off and then eventually I’d start coming home to this.
No deal, Adam, NO DEAL!