Eunny Jang: During the last few days a number of knitting fanatics have jumped on the Interweave Knits subscription bandwagon after E.J. was announced as the new editor. (myself notwithstanding!)
Then a dear friend said this over lunch: "You know, magazines plan their publications long into the future. Eunny's not going to have full control of the ship until the next Winter issue." -How right she is! I certainly didn't consider this, and I'm sure many other fellow knitters didn't either.
What do y'all think?
Will we begin to see Eunny's touch in this summer's IK issue? Furthermore, what do you think of IK's new layout?
the Gift that Almost Was: I have a friend that's an absolute conversational charmer- she's funny, intelligent, and can open up the absolute worst of conversationalists (in a good way) in a heartbeat. This week she asked what I thought was a strange question at first-- "Which square in LR is mine?". I didn't understand at first, until she mentioned a little something was left at my door. Apparantly a yellow bag with streamers and Kureyon inside has gone missing! We came up with two theories: A. Big Wind B. Kid takes it, realizes it's yarn and chucks into snowbank. You decide.
Connie- Thank You for the gift. I truly wish the card would have been left behind!!!
1 comment:
I like to imagine that anything ever stolen from me is put to good use. That's how I comforted myself after the mysterious thief or thieves at Penn State took my handmade fur Cossack hat with the watered silk lining, the yellow and gold handwoven bag I'd gotten from the hippie street vendor in San Francisco, and all my sandels and Janis Joplin albums back in 1972. And when someone broke into my red VW bug circa 1977 in Denver and took my Pentax camera and overnight bag. And when I was mugged on the bus at the corner of Selby and Dale in St. Paul in 1981.
So, maybe some poor ass knitter who lost the struggle with her better soul is at this very moment swatching, alternating between rivulets of joy and sudden, unwelcome twitches of self-loathing. To which I say: Oh well! It's your karma, baby. (I stole that from the 70s....)
I'll find you an even better card, Deb. Promise.
C.
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