In a brief episode of Knitter's A.D.D., I knit myself a little drawstring bag. I was pulled off the black sweater path when I poked through my stash and spotted a few little balls (balls!) of leftover Farmhouse Yarns Fat Sheep. The colors were so pretty - variegated blues, greens, pinks, and purples. Looking at the yarn made me think of the Monet Bag that I knit long ago and gave to my sister. Maybe I could knit another one - ish. It wouldn't look the same, but it might be pretty.
I knit up this little ditty holding two strands of yarn together - each in a different colorway. I randomly dropped one strand and replaced it with a different colorway. I knit until I didn't have much left and bound off. I knit a 5-stitch i-cord strap using some leftover Cascade 220. Voila!
I reallly like it.
Then I looked inside. Ooh. That's pretty, too.
So I flipped it inside-out. Hmmmm. I really like that.
I can't decide which way I want to use it. I've always been partial to stockinette stitch, but the reverse stockinette really shows off all of the colors. Whaddayathink?
In mothering news, my boy ate eggs today! I know, I know - call the newspapers. It's the story of the century. But really - this is a BIG deal. It is. I have been raising hotdog-mac'n cheese-chicken nugget-pizza-french toast-pancake-waffle-grilled cheese-boy for fourteen and a half years. He's never eaten eggs. Wouldn't touch them. Tonight as I was making french toast (with cinnamon and vanilla in the eggs - yum!), I had leftover egg mixture. When the french toast was done, I poured the eggs into the pan, scrambled them, and . . . ahem . . . strongly encouraged my boy to try them.
No way. I hate eggs. They're all over your french toast. Eat them. Yuck. I can't. I know what eggs are like. You do not. Just try them. No, no, no, don't put them on my plate and ruin my french toast experience! Okay, get me a little plate. Try them while they're hot or you really won't like them. Maybe when I'm done. No. While they're hot. They get cold fast.
I put a piece of eggy goodness into my mouth to show the boy how delicious they were. He rolled his eyes, took both of the plates (good sign!) and walked away.
You're right. They're pretty good. They taste just like french toast.