*tap tap* Testing, testing, 1 2 3…

Are we live? Ok.

I imagine that moving a web site and teleportation involve similar sensations. Even though you know in your head that the technology is perfectly safe and reliable, you still feel the need to pat yourself all over and check for missing body parts once you’ve arrived. Or at least the sensations would be similar, if teleportation was safe and reliable or, y’know, existent.

Please note that everything, including the RSS feed, has a new URL and change your bookmarks/links/blogrolls accordingly. Hopefully you were forwarded directly from wherever you were on the old site to the exact same spot on the new site. Please let me know if you find any broken links, images, missing comments, or other web-teleportation shenanigans.

I’ve also added some book reviews that I had originally posted on a different site.

Hope you like the changes!

So I haven’t posted as often as I would have liked to lately. One reason is that life goes a little haywire when you have a grant proposal due and two conference presentations to give the same week.

The other reason is that I’ve been doing a little webmonkeying. This site will be moving to its own domain shortly. It will have a new layout, a new engine, and some other new stuff. Keeping the number of posts, particularly posts with pictures, to a minimum will make transferring the old entries to the new system a little bit easier.

I hope to have the new site launched relatively soon. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peek:

Blue is a little bit more my speed. See y’all on the flip side.

Yarn is like crack. The presence of a gorgeous yarn, heck even the virtual presence of a gorgeous yarn, is sufficient to make a yarn addict shake and sweat.

My name is Yvonne, and I think I may have a problem. I think as far as knitters go, I am fairly restrained about yarn purchases. I am a few-project knitter (UFOs cry and yell at me to finish them, and if I had more than a few at a time, I would never be able to live with all the racket) and I do not buy yarn that is not earmarked for something specific.

But slowly, the stash monster has been creeping up on me, a growing spectre of woolly goodness that I imagine will some day emerge from the corner, fully conscious, and smother me in my sleep. It began with yarn leftovers, half-skeins of Plymouth Encore, tattered remainders of the dreaded Microspun.

Then came a few unfortunate internet purchases, during which my monitor deceived me quite thoroughly. The blue? Not vibrant, but dusty. The orange? Not orange at all, but a goldenrod yellow. Then my grandmother sent me ten skeins of an unidentifable pink acrylic with yellowed ball bands in Japanese. I think the yarn is quite possibly as old as I am.

And now I have a giant laundry basket full of yarn that spills over into a stack of shoe boxes on the side. About half of that is yarn for the neverending Ombre Blanket that is my knitting penance. The rest of it is, unmistakeably, stash.

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