By fanatical-knitter standards, I do not have a large stash. I do not have a S.A.B.L.E. (Stash Acquired Beyond Life Expectancy) although I do buy yarn more frequently than I buy clothing or shoes or purses, or food. Heh. Just kidding on that last one.
I have a friend who loves shoes and purses like I love alpaca and wool and camel. In the interest of privacy, we'll call this friend "Imelda." Imelda is a stylish woman who owns dozens of purses and has enough clothing to go three months without re-wearing anything. She has more earrings than most jewelry stores. I've never seen the same shoes on her feet twice. By contrast, my shoe collection is pictured above.
Excuse the dark photo. I cannot figure out how to make my fancy new camera go flashy.
A few weeks ago, Imelda told me she was not going to go shopping any more until October (Why October? I don't know -- must be a crazy shoe fetish thing). I scoffed and doubted this. She had gone on a 40-day dry spell over Lent, and I didn't think she was capable of going another round on the Abstinence Train. Today, Imelda found a great sale on some kitchenware that would be perfect for her Auntie B., so she asked if I thought it would be breaking her vow of celibacy if she went and purchased these items for a Christmas present. I said I figured it'd be okay, and teased her a bit about how many shoes and purses she must own by now, and how she might one day be one of those crazy hoarders on TV with sixteen blenders and eighty-five empty toilet paper rolls and thirty bags of dog food (but no dog).
So upon careful consideration, I think that teasing Imelda about all her shoes is sort of like the coffee calling the Guiness black -- just a little hypocritical! So in the interest of full confession, so that Imelda can poke fun at me, I present my yarn stash:
The Ikea Bureau stash ...The bottom drawer and the basket on top, as well as the lamp-shelf to the left, are all unspun fibers. The rest is various store-bought yarns.
Edgar Allen Poe Cat has a deep love for unspun fiber, and he knows it's in that drawer right in front of his nose. He lusts after corriedale, and he isn't ashamed to show it.
This shelf is mostly FOs, and the basket next to it is full of Knit Picks Peruvian wool. My spindles are in the little basket in front. Not too much, just a
Here is what happens when you spend an hour sorting your yarn in the presence of a kitten. You can just see her behind the recycle bin.
So, Imelda, next time I tease you about shoes or purses or seventy pairs of earrings, just make a sheep noise, or ask me how many knitting needles I own. That will shut me right up.
And if someone will come over and show me how to make my camera go flashy, I'd really appreciate it. WHY is technology so hard for me?!