Once upon a time there was a box.

Well, perhaps the story begins earlier than that. It begins with knitting socks for someone so famous in the knitting world she doesn't have time to knit socks for herself. So I have. And I offered to do some more. So for a really huge scam, she said she would send me a wheel. I swear I did warn Jazz, but time passes and people forget and things don't seem real any more, because that's the safest way to avoid being disappointed.

I spent today away from home, in Syracuse working on the Holiday Yarns store. When I called home, Jazz said, "Honey, there's a box here. I think it has a loom in it." I reassured him there was no loom. The looms I have are a small table loom and a borrowed inkle loom, and that's all we fit in this tiny house. I know there is no loom. "But there's a box," he insisted. "It says it's a minstrel."

Images of bards in boxes go through my head for amusement sake. I hoped there was food and airholes and adequate sanitation. But at the same time, I was thinking, that's a Kromski. That gorgeous castle wheel the one guy was spinning alpaca at the one fiberfest was a Kromski. Castle wheels will fit better in the house than the saxony style. I bet it's got lots of pretty and fussy details without being girly.

I came home to Jazz far more intent on his upcoming events, and understandably so. We discussed tomorrow's schedule while I slowly pulled Polish newspaper out of The Box. I found editorial cartoons in Polish - I think they were editorial in nature because it looked it had hookers and guns and people praying to ATMs, and didn't look funny at all when one doesn't understand the words. But it amused me just the same. Mr. Basset shared the couch while I figured out the assembly.



And after Jazz took the dogs up to bed, I could not resist... It works just fine, with very little fuss.



I haz a happee.  ¶ 10:25 PM