A few days ago I went to my local yarn shop to pick up an extra skein for the baby blanket I am making for my soon-to-arrive second cousin - another baby girl. (The yarn shop has become what the library has always been to me - a relaxing soothing place of refuge from anything I want to escape.) This yarn shop has been at this location since just shortly after I became a knitter myself and I have made it the primary place that I shop for yarn. I know where they keep their sock yarn and the wool yarn. I know where the baby yarns are and any little gadgets that you might want for knitting. This places - as silly as it sounds - is like a second home. I love this place.
Which is exactly why I avoid it as much as I can. I could spend HOURS in this place. I could spend millions of dollars if I had it (see previous post) just on yarn and needles and stitch markers. But I had to go to get this one skein of yarn so that the baby blanket would be finished the way its supposed to*.
When I walked into the store I was greeted just like always and when I saw that it was the one employee who always seems so interested in helping me I stopped to chat a little with her - just small talk. It caught me off guard when she told me that she had recently been thinking about me and asked how the baby blanket was coming along. She had helped my mom and I pick out the colors for the blanket and commented on how adventurous she thought I was for doing this blanket.
I had a friend at the yarn shop and I didn't even know it.
*It is no where near being done at this moment. I have knit five inches of a blanket that should be 33" when it is finished! Wish me luck. (The baby isn't due until May)