Wilde, Wilde scarf

Here's my take on the basket-weave: I call it the Oscar Wilde scarf, because Oscar believed in livin' large, and this scarf is nothing if not that--14 inches wide by 9.5 feet long. It wears more like a pashmina. If I wear it over my head I am the spitting image of an 1890's refugee. After I started it I sort of went into a weird trance and could not stop, and the longer it got the more I wanted to keep going. Madness, I tell you. That was a long time ago. And I would still be working on it today, except that it became clear that the yarn was going to run out, and I couldn't afford more.

I am so, so glad to see that many other people like Crazy Aunt Purl and her horde of blogstalkers (see her June 6th post) have fallen prey to this, too. I am not the only nut case, and those other nut cases seem to be pretty nice folks!

And while I'm on the subject of knitting, I chased down exactly one (1) tiny ball of this adorable eyelash stuff at my LYS, and immediately snatched it and ran under the porch with it:

It has just a teeny bit of gold fiber woven into it that seems to say, "Party!" I worked it into a retarded scarf I'm making, uh, I mean ripping (I hid the million errors, yuk yuk):

I just love this combination so much that between the colors and the way it feels to my hands, I nearly want to eat it. See? Nut case!