I went to Luna's yarn shop in Elizabethtown, Kentucky almost a month ago, and brought home an expensive yet small bag of yarn. Not a difficult thing to do at all.
Luna's store is small, just two rooms, but it was tidy and a sensual delight. I went with a few ideas in mind, and found something for all of them. The fuchsia at the top is Cascade's 220 Superwash, and that ball will morph into a pair of socks for my little four-year-old princess who lives next door.
Out of the Regia and the Mountain Colors I plan to make socks for me, using both together for some sort of slip stitch pattern. The blue-green is Misti Alpaca laceweight; future shawl.
The mossy green is Classic Elite Portland Tweed. The unfinished hat thing is my gauge swatch, which I need to reknit as my tension is too slack in both directions. I do, however, really like the hand of the knit fabric and once I get more yarn, it will grow up to be Wisteria by Kate Gilbert. I haven't knit a sweater for myself in ages, and from an honest to goodness pattern for even longer.
This is enough to keep my needles going for the rest of the year or longer. Also? It will be so nice not to knit with angora for a change.
As for the other thing, yep, it's gonna just take time to get over my hurt feelings, and that is what it is all about, in the end. It's all about me. I am remarkably thin skinned. I have tried to grow a thicker hide for a long time, but it hasn't happened yet. I was apparently born a sensitive, since I have always been overly emotional and easily hurt.
One other thing, too, I realized last night, is that I am jealous of my niece. Not an attractive feeling, but there it is. She is so pretty and popular, she lives in a nice house, has her driver's license and use of a vehicle, she has super parents that love her dearly, and she's going to college. At age seventeen, she still has her mom around. And really? I am so glad for her. But, those things that I just enumerated? I didn't have at her age. I wasn't as pretty, and I certainly wasn't popular, I lived in rental houses, my parents didn't want to bother getting me my learner's permit, my father was hateful and intimidating, and my mother killed herself, after years of depression, a few weeks after I turned seventeen. College? Fugettaboutit.
I can't change any of my childhood or teenage years, and maybe it isn't jealousy that I feel so much, but sorrow over my own what-might-have-beens.
I am still fitting a little uncomfortably in my own skin, what with withdrawing from the anti-repressent. I'm a still a bit woozy of a morning, not wanting to move too fast since it feels that my head is following about a half beat behind the rest of me. I am trying to drink a lot of fluids that are not alcoholic. Just one more thing that will take time. Also? I am seriously limiting my time on fb these days and I am keeping my mouth shut and not writing comments.