Lives in a Shoe

Atlas Shrugs. Ayn Rand Spins.

 

CALEDON ATLAS SHRUG

Inspired by the blockbuster book by Ayn Rand, the Atlas Shrug is more than a fashion statement. It's a statement about modern society. The construction is reminiscent of railway lines, in the color of the metal created by the brilliant industrialist. Knit your own Atlas Shrug in Caledon Hills yarn and tell the world that you value your independence.

Just the thing to wear to that picnic in Galt's Gulch.

Note:  For those non-knitters among you:  A shrug is a kind of truncated sweater that covers from shoulder to shoulder down the back, and across the sleeves. 

Note to Caledon copywriter:  the "brilliant industrialist" is Hank Reardon. 

A Yarn Yarn

Lorette, who blogs as www.TheKnittingDoctor, is visiting Scotland.  We share a passion for yarn and things knitting so I was interested to get this email from her:

We found a billion sheep, but little local wool. A woman at a local croft shop that I stopped at told me that most of the sheep are raised for meat, not wool. There are some folks raising sheep varieties more for the wool, but not many, yet. I did get some good stuff though. And ate a lot of lamb!

George and I were in Scotland and Ireland a coujple of years ago.  I was excited about the yarn-buying opportunities I fancied would be there for the finding.  Alas...

Dublin: I searched and found very little actual yarn, but many shops that sold "hand knit jumpers" (sweaters, for those of you who are not world travelers).

We were searching for George's people who according to Ellis Island records emigrated from Boyle in County Roscommon.  Lovely tiny town with its own castle -- and lorry after lorry (trucks, for those of you who are not world travelers) stacked high with fleeces rumbling down the center street heading somewhere else. 

I found a sort of clothing/notions shop and asked for "knitting wool".  The lady looked puzzled and then -- Aha!  She dove into the dark bottom of a cupboard, rummaged like a terrier, then surfaced holding aloft yellow sparkly stuff balled big as a prize pumpkin.  No label, but not wool.  She said the fleeces were sent "away" and "nobody knits anymore except old women". All-righty, then. (This shopkeeper was no spring chicken her own self.  Just sayin'...)

In Scotland I noticed that everybody, except those who lived smack in urban areas, had sheep.  So whoopee, I thought -- my ship has come in.  But no.  I resorted to asking a waitress in Edinburgh to check the phone book thinking maybe there was some local terminology that had been eluding me.  Nothing, nothing. 

Eventually, in St. Andrews (George golfed The Old Course)  I found a gorgeous wool shop with shelves of truly scrumptious yarn.  Weird thing, though -- every time I liked something and checked the label it appeared to be from Italy or Japan.  I bought a book of patterns -- something "Scotland Experience".  Haven't made anything from it yet.  Great souvenir, though.