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Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? (en chorus)

I'm embarrassed. I used the Joe DiMaggio title twice of recent. Today's three times a charm is intentional.

Is that something you remember as a child, adults repeating the same thing, and you looking up at them in impatience wondering how one could forget they've already said that umpteen times?

I remember having a sharp mind as a child. I have a vague and consistent memory of thinking forlornly about losing said sharpness of mind around age 16 and onwards. These days I am on theory number three or four or five of why this happened. I think, now, it happens primarily because older folks have more memories the more we age. More traumas, more joys, more people we've met, more jobs mastered and forgotten. More detritus, to be blunt.

Life is overstimulating. Maybe holding on to the core things is how our brain stabilizes us in time and place. So the title to this post has some significance to my own mythology. One that I fall back on in comfort.

Comfort is good. October has been good. It's been a month of yarn gorging. There was Vermont Sheep & Wool, and then there was a last minute trip to Webs two days ago. No Rhinebeck again this year, but c'est la vie. I'm sure one less body in the stalls was a comfort to someone in Dutchess County, New York.

We drove out to Webs to purchase a new colorway of Madelinetosh's, Nectar, in the DK line. Turns out the color was the wrong pink for me. And without seeing the back room once again, I walked away with some new to me yarns from Malabrigo and Madelinetosh, as well as lines I've already begun to stash.

I am fascinated by pale grays kissed with color (see banner!) I thought Nectar would be such, but I found this lovely new Malabrigo Twist that maintains that spirit more faithfully. Fucking "A" yum.


There's more. Much much more. I'm a yarn whore.