Strange Portents

Unexplained things have been happening around here.

Strange. Yesterday's unseasonably, unnaturally warm weather, something like 70 degrees Fahrenheit, here where I live. Midwinter and too hot to wear a coat. Yes, strange. But not really unprecedented.

Weird. A presidential primary coming to Virginia when there's still something to decide. Now that's strange. Normally the question of who will be each political party's candidate has been settled long before our primary election rolls around, with the nominees left to be confirmed by general acclamation at the national conventions. Our choices are forestalled by the contenders' simply dropping away, one after another, based on returns in other states, before our turn to vote arrives. This leaves the anointed candidates not greatly interested in advertising or making appearances in our state, so we see little of them. This time, though, the media are talking about Virginia as "the next battleground!" Strange. Still, who knows? Another candidate dropped out just today. There are still a few days before we go to the polls.

And strangest. A blazing comet with a long, fiery tail, streaking through the sky. No, just kidding. I made that one up.

But this ball of cotton yarn, now...















... for this unearthly price.


Yes, that's sixteen cents. Plus tax.

I had visited a local chain store in search of a particular pattern booklet from one of the large yarn manufacturers. Disappointed in my quest, I dallied a little among the yarns. It's hard, sometimes, to leave completely empty-handed. And somehow this ball of worsted-weight cotton in the pretty Rosewood colorway came with me to the register for check-out.

Imagine my surprise when the cashier asked me to hand over a cool seventeen cents. I paused for a second, nonplussed, then said I was sure there was some mistake. I told her I was certain it should be more than that. That it had surely been mis-coded in their computerized system. She said, no, it must have been on clearance. (Honestly, I don't think so.) I told her I felt bad. She congratulated me on a great deal. I thought about trying to give her an extra dollar or two. She thought about whether she should go buy a few balls for herself. Finally, although it was certainly a mistake, I realized there was no way to fix it. I had done my best. I might as well enjoy my strange little bit of good fortune.

But what could it portend?

Well, this, perhaps. A Lacy Round Cloth. :)

Now, I've never been one for knitting cotton. But the cult of washcloth-makers has been calling faintly to me, join us, join us, ever since I saw the flower-shaped chenille washcloth in Weekend Knitting. And some people seem to love making washcloths. Just wander around smariek's site a little; you'll see. As for me, I'm hardly tempted by their eldritch cries; they'll never really be able to draw me in.

But a hand-knit facecloth of this pretty cotton and a bar of handmade soap would make quite a nice hostess gift for some occasion or other. And then there was a cloth that had a little sheep, with a woolly coat made all of bobbles....

Strange portents, indeed.