A few skeins of yarn that I had carefully wound into balls somehow found their way out of their safe spot in my bag. Slowly they descended through the layers of my Jansport. Quietly they nested there for about a week. When I finally realized and recovered my way-ward yarn balls they had begun to pick up the following:
- Grains of sand (from Indian River)
- Dirt particles (from rocks, more on them later)
- Pencil shavings
- Eraser stubble
- Yarn fuzzies from previous W.I.P.s
- And other unidentifiable errata
As you can see I had much fun in the cleaning of my babies and in the categorizing of the hitch-hikers.
This is rock (His name is Kenny).
That I yarnbombed. I brought him home to knit up the tag. Now he is livng on my bedside table next to his naked (I haven’t knited up a tag yet) twin brother Larry (Not pictured). Let’s see if I have the guts to take him back…