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thankful this thanksgiving...

as is always the way,
thanksgiving rolls around
and i cannot help but ponder
all the things i am thankful for
in this here life of mine.

i do try to do this all year round
and not just one day of the year
however this year,
as per usual
i find many things to be thankful for
however i am especially thankful for
which opened up a few short weeks ago
in a small town not far from me

i am thankful they invited me to join their yarny team.
i am thankful the yarny team turned out to be full of wonderful dearies.
i am thankful for the creativity it has sparked in my little knitty cogs.
i am thankful my rusty dusty cogs are proving they are not too old to be learning again.
i am thankful i get to share time with so many creative souls who walk through the door, each and every day
and most of  all
i am thankful it has filled an aching void in my life, created when my two girls moved so very far far away...

the happiest of happy thanksgivings, to one and all :)

It's all in the detail

One of the many details found on the image of The Bonnie Prince is His brooch.  He is pictured wearing the Hunterston Brooch. The Hunterston Brooch is an ancient Scottish brooch dating from about the year 700 A.D. It is dated by its artistic similarity to the Lindisfarne Gospels.  You can click the images below to enlarge them.

hacking a hat ...

i am muchly chuffed with the fact i have knitted a hat.
it is the pattern 'felicity' which can be found on Ravelry.
except i added a moss/seed stitch band at the beginning
and now it appears i will be doing more than just that.

having worn my hat for a day and half
i have concluded it is not quite the shape i wished it to be.
it is a perfectly perfect shape i must add,
however not quite right for me and my noggin.

thus i have decided to take matters into my own knitty newbie hands
and hack a hat pattern

there is no telling if i will come out the other side
with the hat shape upon my bonce, of my wishing,
but i do have high hopes
for in my head it makes sense,
on the little bit of paper i have scribbled my hacks upon
it reads darn dandy,
and after talking to Our #2 for yarny support
i am ready to bravely tread where my little knitty cogs
have never trod before...

The Time We Were Told Our Baby Has Cerebral Palsy

Turns out Little Lola is not as lazy as we once thought, and there are medical reasons behind her immobility. To backtrack, when Lola was 4 months old I noticed her eye was turning irregularly and I mentioned it to Joe. We were mid-screenings with Ryan (pre-autism diagnosis) and Reese was already diagnosed with Duane's Syndrome and wearing glasses. And when I mentioned Lola's eye to Joe he looked at me, let out a heavy sigh and told me to leave it alone, nothing was wrong with her eyes. So I let it go.

Thankfully, I was tied up in evaluations with Ryan when Lola's 9 month well baby visit came around and Joe had to take her for me. Our pediatrician noted that her eye was turning inappropriately (aha!) and recommended we go to see a pediatric opthamologist. At 10 months -- or in August -- we took her to the eye doctor and they noted the strabismus and decided to watch her to see how it continued to develop over the next 6 months.

Right around the time this was all taking place Ryan was being diagnosed with autism and when we were talking to the developmental pediatrician about family history I mentioned the baby's developmental delays. Since there is an increased chance that we would have another child on the spectrum, he asked to see Lola. And we made an appointment for October. 

Meanwhile, in late September, when she was roughly 11 1/2 months old and she still wasn't moving regularly and had literally (the day before her 11th monthday) just started rolling, I called early intervention and had her evaluated. Her scores did not directly qualify her for services (they were borderline), but the evaluation team used professional judgement to qualify her for PT and therapy with a teacher for the visually impaired.

In October we met with the developmental pediatrician who said that cognitively, socially and verbally she was on par with other kids her age, but in terms of gross motor she was obviously behind. He diagnosed her with hypotonia, which is low muscle tone. Essentially her brain does not send signals to her muscles to contract when they are supposed to, or at least not as quickly as they are supposed to. As a result she is very flexible and, therefore, unstable. So this explained a lot of her delays. There is also a school of thought that links eye issues with hypotonia, so there's that theory too.

By November Lola had regularly been receiving therapy for just about a month and we (Joe, her therapists and I) were all pretty convinced that her biggest issue was vision. She's made slow progress, but she is still very cautious and she has issues with depth perception and spatial awareness. Not wanting to wait for February before getting this kid some glasses or an eye patch, I called the opthamologist and asked to come in this month and have her rechecked. This is four months after her last visit, so still a good amount of time to view progress. So we went to her follow up appointment last week, and that is when the shit literally hit the fan.

Now ladies, when I named this blog "It's Always Something" I didn't actually think it would always be something. But jesus freaking christ. It really is.

We get to the pediatric opthamologist last Thursday, with our reports from her EI team in hand, totally prepared to have to get her special glasses or a patch. Instead he evaluates her, determines that she has no vision in her left periphery and an over-tight eye muscle that causes one eye to be higher than the other (this is correctable with surgery later on). And with the loss of left peripheral vision he delivers the following statement WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE: "Good news, folks! Her loss of vision has nothing to do with her eyesight at all. It's neurological! So you can call your pediatrician and developmental pediatrician and have them coordinate an MRI."

I asked him who I should call first when we left the appointment and he laughed telling me I should wait for his office to transcribe the notes from the appointment and then call. And when I asked how long that would take he told me 7-10 business days. To wait for him to type a letter and mail it, so I could talk to my pediatrician about my 13 month old baby needing an MRI. I don't freaking think so, scooter. And with that I called my pediatrician's office as soon as I got into the car and spoke to one of the nurses. I explained the situation and I explained the opthamologist telling me it would take upwards of two weeks for a letter to get to his office. My pediatrician was out of the office on Thursday and by Friday morning at 8:15 he had already called and told me to come in with Lola for an evaluation.

I love my pediatrician.

So on Friday at 4 p.m. the baby and I went to the doctor and he sat with us and tested her reflexes, asked some questions and told me some of the worst news that I had gotten in a while. We were moving forward with an MRI. They were looking for a fetal infection that may be causing her eye issues or delays, and they were also trying to rule out cerebral palsy.

Cerebral palsy. My heart sank. I had the easiest pregnancy and a complication-free delivery. I've never had any STD's or major health issues. I wasn't even Group B Strep positive with her. And yet, here we were facing some possible horrible outcome.

Usually it takes 3-5 weeks to get in for an MRI and another 4-7 months to be seen by a pediatric neurologist. Our pediatrician had both appointments scheduled for us in less than 72 hours.

I love my pediatrician.

On Wednesday we took Lola to the hospital for her MRI. She was her normal smiling, happy, playful self, even though she had been NPO (without food or drink) for several hours. Her disposition only magnified how horrible the possibilities were. I held my baby while they administered anesthesia, which she didn't fight, even though I could see the fear in her eyes. And then I left the room so they could intubate her and start her IV.

The whole procedure was supposed to take 45 minutes and nearly an hour later a nurse came out to update us that they wanted to take a few more pictures after some of the screens they had gotten and that she'd be in there for another half hour or so. And our hearts sunk again. We thought this can't be good. None of this can be good.

After 90 minutes, we were able to go back and sit with her and wait for her to wake up. She was fussy and disoriented, but she had done great and we were ready to go home. After napping in the car and eating dinner she was back to her laughing, playful self.

Thursday morning our pediatrician called us to let us know that the initial read of the MRI had come in and her MRI was clear. No brain damage, no signs of any trauma. No cerebral palsy. And then we cried. Hot streaming tears of thankfulness and relief and confusion.

Thursday afternoon we went to see the pediatric neurologist. She called our MRI and our visit "unremarkable". She confirmed that the baby has low tone (hypotonia) but said that she sees her catching up between now and her second birthday. She gave the side-eye to the opthamologist's declaration that Lola has a loss of vision in her left periphery (hemianopsia), noting that this is one of the hardest things to diagnose in a child period, let alone diagnose in an infant. She ordered a bloodwork panel to check muscle enzymes and Lola's thyroid, "just to cover our bases", and requested we see a pediatric neuro-opthamologist for a second opinion on her eye issues. The neurologist thinks that the opthamologist made a bad call.

My baby went under anesthesia, was intubated and given an MRI because a doctor made a bad call. And if I wasn't so very, unbelievably thankful that she is healthy I would be incredibly angry that we went through all of this. I keep reminding myself that knowledge is power and it is better to have answers than wonder.

So we'll go see a few more doctors, do a few more tests, keep going with therapy, switch eye doctors (duh) and hope that when she sees the new eye doctor in February that he gives her glasses, which is really probably what she needed all along.

Homage to the King of kings, the Bonnie Prince.

The holy image of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
 King of kings, 
set in Scotland, 
under the title of 
The Bonnie Prince.  

Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of kings,
under the title of 
The Bonnie Prince 
blesses you from the Stone of Destiny, 
the crowning place of kings.

As your Infant King He seeks to win your heart to Himself. 
Look upon His wounded Hands and little Feet. 
Behold His Heart that has loved you so much. 

Stand beneath His banner, 
worship Him as God and do Him homage. 
By Homage you declare that: He is your Lord; 
you are His servant and friend; 
and you promise to remain with Him 
in loyalty, love and perpetual fidelity.

The permission to depict the Bonnie Prince in the Royal Stuart tartan was graciously accorded to us by the Earl of Moray.
The image depicts the Royal Child emerging from the darkness, the mystery and the mist of the Highlands in all His beauty.  The Christ Child wears the Royal Stuart Tartan, and on His head is the crown of Scotland.  He sits on the coronation stone (The Stone of Scone) which was used for centuries in the coronation of the monarchs of Scotland.  His hand is raised in blessing and as in the style of the Most Holy Redeemer, He holds the Cross on His left side.  His Sacred Heart is visible - the high point of the manifestation of His Kingship.  He bears the marks of His crucifixion.  Around Him are the Highlands of Scotland known for its grey skies and mist, and towards the edge of the painting the Royal Scottish Standard is visible. 

The Image, the title The Bonnie Prince and 
the Hymn to the Bonnie Prince 
were canonically approved by the Bishop of Aberdeen
on 13 May, 2013. 

Hymn to the Bonnie Prince
(Tune:  Auld Lang Syne –Robert Burns)

1. Let folly praise that fancy loves,
    I praise and love that Child
Whose heart no thought, whose tongue no word,
    Whose hand no deed defiled.
I praise Him most, I love Him best,
    All praise and love is His;
While Him I love, in Him I live,
    And cannot live amiss.

2. Love's sweetest mark, land's highest theme,
    Man's most desired light,
To love Him life, to leave Him death,
    To live in Him delight.
He mine by gift, I His by debt,
    Thus each to other due,
First Friend He was, best Friend He is,
    All times will try Him true.

3. Though young yet wise, though small yet strong,
    Thou man yet God He is;
As wise He knows, as strong He can,
    As God He loves to bless:
His knowledge rules, His strength defends,
    His love doth cherish all;
His birth our joy, His life our light,
    His death our end of thrall.

4. Alas, He weeps, He sighs, He pants!
    Yet do His angels sing;
Out of His tears, His sighs and throbs,
    Doth bud a joyful spring.
O Bonnie Prince, whose tender arms   
    Can force all foes to fly,
Correct my faults, protect my life,
    Direct me when I die.

[Slight adaptation of the hymn: Let Folly Praise What Fancy Loves
by St Robert Southwell, S.J. martyred at Tyburn, 21 February, 1595.]

We have a Facebook page dedicated to The Bonnie Prince.

Images of The Bonnie Prince
are available for distribution by writing to:
The Bonnie Prince
Golgotha Monastery Island
Papa Stronsay, KW17 2AR
Orkney, Scotland.

Cards are in the following sizes:
A7 A5 A4

an ordinarily extraordinary miracle at thanksgiving...

yesterday i awoke to an ordinary day,
by the time i went to bed it had become an ordinarily extraordinary day.
days like that are quite rare and ones that must be treasured
and looked back upon for many many moons to come.

quite truthfully, 
just the very fact my cast on knitted hat
was actually starting to resemble a hat
and not a flea bite in sight,
was something to take an ordinary day
to an extraordinary day.

but then an happening to out do any happenings
that have happened to me of late,
only went and happened.

i awoke on an ordinary friday morn
to learn that by the very same day
Our #2 would be home for thanksgiving!
our first to share in several years...
a most extraordinary thing
which truly is nothing sort of a small miracle.

yes a small miracle that has left me this morn,
 as i tippity tap this ramble
knowing she is under our roof again
for a whole live long week,
so very thankful for small miracles
of the most ordinarily extraordinary kind.
the best kind of miracles of all...

How can I keep from Singing?

One of my happiest mornings was spent in 2008 in St Cecilia in Trastevere, built upon the remains of the house of St Cecilia. Time spent in the crypt of this Roman church is truly an extraordinary experience, as it is left almost as the saint would have known it, the large grain pits near which she was imprisoned, the shrine even to Minerva set there by her pagan relatives. Most wonderful was to be favoured with the key to the gated, almost ciborium like, golden chapel under the high altar where one can see the sarcophagi of the Saint, with that of her chaste husband St Valerian, through a stone lattice. I had read the wonderful account of the finding in the 1500s of her incorrupt relics, still stretched downwards as she had fallen, the blood still fresh in the wounds on her neck, and this more than a thousand years after her death. As nobody dared to touch them in this wonderful state, to this day we have no idea of what her face looked like and that is why the famous statues of her, carved by one who had seen the miracle, never show her face directly, she is always stretched downwards. There, close to her shrine, all of this came alive in my mind.

The famous phrase associated with the holy martyr we celebrate today is "singing to God in her heart", it is what holy tradition tells us she did in the direst moment of her life, and it is considered in some way why she is the patroness of musicians. I know this is a little different, and I know the words to this song, which first appeared in 1868 of unknown origin, have been somewhat de-Christianised in this more modern version, but none-the-less they fit St Cecilia very well and raise one’s heart and mind to remember a holy and innocent one, who will surely protect us in our direst needs if we call upon her intercession, singing in our own hearts.

Br Nicodemus Mary, F.SS.R.

"My life goes on in endless song, above earth's lamentations, I hear the real, though far-off hymn, that hails a new creation. Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear its music ringing, it sounds an echo in my soul... how can I keep from singing? 

"While though the tempest loudly roars, I hear the Truth, It liveth. And though the darkness 'round me close, songs in the night it giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that Rock I'm clinging. Since Love is Lord of Heaven and earth... how can I keep from singing? 

"When tyrants tremble in their fear and hear their death knell ringing; when friends rejoice both far and near... how can I keep from singing? In prison cell and dungeon vile our thoughts to them are winging; when friends by shame are undefiled... how can I keep from singing?" 

Lola's Cake Smash

We got the pictures back from our family holiday shoot and Lola's first birthday cake smash. It was hard to "style" her birthday photos since she was still not mobile, pulling up to stand, baring weight on her legs. I had a vision in mind over the summer that included a vintage high chair, and thankfully I spent an afternoon driving out to Massachusetts to pick the chair up this summer.

We barely pulled this shoot off. It was 46 degrees outside and I was running around like a mad woman trying to find dairy free icing and cake mix, having balloons blown up and setting up the shoot for our holiday pictures. Even I was impressed by how much we were able to pull together that afternoon.

Lola was such a trooper, sitting in nothing but a diaper cover and actually being happy. Genuinely happy. She is seriously such a gift. The child doesn't know how to have a bad day.

About a week after our pictures were taken her hair finally grew long enough that it lies down now. No more Don King baby. It would be depressing if her darn face wasn't so stinking adorable. Every once in a while I use Reese's detangling spray to spike her hair up again, it doesn't stay all day, but it makes me smile while it lasts.

what a difference a day makes...

double darn
triple drat
quadruple pants

my 'knitty picking a purl like a pro' knee socks
are all baggy and saggy

Mr Doubter is creeping in
and my high hopes are seeping away

i have noted on close inspection
my seed stitching ways are lacking.
if one did not know better
one could easily be mistaken
for thinking a moth or two
had stopped by for a party

i am left pondering...

are the crochet gods talking to me
showing me i have faltered too far 
from the path of hooky righteousness and goodness

or are the knitting gods testing me
seeing if i am worthy of their knitty blessing.
am i strong enough to prevail
when the knitting times are rough
or will i weaken, will i falter
will i turn away
when the going gets tough

the knitty gods tell me
does not matter, 
they love me 
and my free form flea holed blanket 
in the making
encourage me to continue upon my way

the crochet gods ask me
have i thought about a nice slouchy beanie hat?
something simple perhaps,
wasn't i just thinking i would like one
only the other day...
most suited to traveling during the holiday season.
they are tempting me, 
i am wise, 
i can see Mr Temptation has been giving them lessons.

i am thinking where would the harm be
in just taking a look,
just a ganders
no commitment
something to take my mind off 
my blanket of dubious seed stitching ways

and down the slippery slope i go
knitty knee socks and knitty soul
well and truly let down

a most marvelous book...

Lena Corwin's Made By Hand book is a marvelous one indeedy! 

i know this to be true as i have had a jolly good ganders at the pages and thus, deduced "that made by hand book is marvelous indeedy!"

how did i get to my marvelous thinking ways you may well ask, as there appears to be an abundance of crafty books out there and sometimes things can all blur together. well let me see...

1: marvelous projects in all different marvelous materials
2: marvelous pictures making one wish to learn the marvelous projects
3: marvelously written in a lesson format from quite a few marvelous crafty souls
4: a marvelous knitted blanket which stopped my marvelous yarn loving ways in their tracks

left unable to think of anything else but said marvelous knitted blanket, led me to know now was the time if ever there was a time i would have to conquer picking a purl stitch, for seed stitch was never an option for me where once i was a thrower. and so i did, with the help of terribly nice dearie on youtube. i must confess her way of picking is no longer my way as i prefer to use my right needle like a hook and keep my left needle, yarn and finger firmly planted and stationary. but no matter what, i care not, for where there is a will, there is always a way and now i like to think i can pick a purl like a pro and therefore i launched into my 'free form blanket' from the marvelous Made By Hand book with great gusto

now here is the thing, it does not exactly show you the step by step recipe for the blanket, it is truly up to you to go upon your merry way freeforming little squares and rectangles of seed stitched goodness. however i have already learnt how to extend a rectangle when changing colour and this has made me muchly happy and declare out loud to those that care to listen "how marvelous is that!"

so only time will tell, just how marvelous it truly is, for i have in my time crocheted an abundance of blankets but never ever never a knitted one... oh, that tis a lie! i did once, a long long time ago and quite a few moons, a patchwork affair but i am not going to count that because the tale doesn't sound so grand. i have however attempted many more knitted blankets that i never saw through to the end due to my attention span and their inability to grow quickly.

this time though, i have high hopes for i am a picker and not a thrower, and yes, despite several times having to rip back several rows due to glazing over and changing the order of my knit 1 purl 1, i am determined, like never before to have a blanket so marvelous in its knitty goodness, that not even a little critter will i share it with.

thus i deduce, Lena Corwin's Made By Hand is full of marvelous things to learn to make and does stand out from the crafty crowded book shelves in a most marvelous way! 

a hive of industry... (well not mister muchly, nope, quite the opposite it would appear)

Miss Ethel has moved downstairs,

we are a hive of industry, me and my trusty machine.

any given moment of opportunity

we are beavering away together

on little strings of happy

for the makers market in december

ummm... Mister Muchly!!!

you are just too muchly

with your 'non hive of industry' ways of late...

Notice to Friends

Until the end of February when the weather is bad or westerly, 
it is not possible to moor the monastery boat
at our Papa Stronsay pier. 

 For the next three months 
I am looking for a friend of the monastery who would 
moor the boat at Whitehall Stronsay during bad weather 
and oversee it at the pier;
 then during breaks in the weather,
return the boat to Papa Stronsay.

Could any interested friend please contact me.
Fr. Michael Mary, F.SS.R.

Contact address: contact@the-sons.org

dabbling with skeins...

on sunday i took my 4 lovely Erika Knight vintage wool skeins to the yarn store to dabble with a bit of yarn skein winding. thinking it muchly a cunning plan to practice the fine art of skein winding upon my own little yarny skeins before i am let loose on customers of the utmost kind and their yarny skeins.

i must confess, in days gone past when skeins were more common place in mossy shed i would find a small being to help but small beings are rare these days, almost as rare as skeins of yarn. thus it is quite the thrill to dabble with a skein or two again. 

the yarn which is having all my attention lavished upon it this week is vintage wool by Erika Knight. upon perusal of her most loveliest of books Simple Crocheting, my crafty heart and my crafty head settled upon the Edging Stitch Scarf which is a garland of jolly popcorn crocheted flowers, looking mighty peachy in the picture and i thought to myself... well that would look mighty peachy wrapped around the outside collar of my granny peachy pink coat found a few weeks back on a thrift store pottle. i say the outside because i am fearful if it were on the inside and being wool it may be a tad itchy. 

i am muchly enjoying making the little crocheted popcorn flowers and doing a jolly good job of not getting all itchy and bothered by the yarn so far. 

a quarter of the way through i cannot help but admire how well my little balls of wound skeins are doing at staying all wound up, just as they should be and not collapsing from the middle out. this gives me high hopes, the same will be said for the skeins i wind for customers in the store :)

The Pronouncing of Vows

On the feast of the dedication of the Archbasilica of the Most Holy Saviour, 9th November, we had the great joy of witnessing Br Peter pronouncing his temporary vows.  This date is of special significance since it marks the 281st anniversary of Saint Alphonsus founding the Redemptorists.

Brother pronounced his vows of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience for a period of three years, taking the religious name: Brother Peter Mary of the Listening Heart of Jesus, F.SS.R.

Br Peter, a native of Montana, USA, kneels before the Altar during the beginning of the ceremony.

 Representing death to the world and the things of the world, Brother is covered with the funeral pall.

 Brother is questioned by the Rector Major:
What do you ask?
Reverend Father, having finished the time of my probation,
I desire to consecrate myself to Jesus Christ
and to enter this Congregation...

 Then, in the presence of his Saviour and Judge, Brother says the great words:
...Therefore, having spent several days of reflection and prayer, now, in the presence of Thy Divine Majesty, of Mary most Holy and Immaculate, my Mistress and Mother, of Saint Joseph, Saint Alphonsus and the whole Court of Heaven,, prostrate on my knees, I promise and vow for three years: OBEDIENCE CHASTITY and POVERTY...

Receiving the monastic pallium.

Brother Peter Mary signs the certificate of profession upon the altar, of great mystical symbolism as by his vows he begins the sacrifice of his life to Our Lord.

 Brother Peter Mary with some of his confrères.

Happily both brother's father and mother made it to Papa Stronsay all the way from America to be with him on his great day!

We wish for Brother every grace and happiness, but especially that grace of perseverance.
Sweet Mother Mary, pray for him and obtain him this grace,
for it is thy special charge to do so. 

knitty news flash...

knitty news flash number one:

two sundays ago, riding high from knitting a little heart specimen i announced to myself and all critters and my lads of three. "i am going to knit a flower" and so i did...

i took one thrift store frock and plotted its cross stitched beauty on 4 pieces of taped together graph paper i found lurking in the drawer. i then rummaged around forever and a day to find colouring pencils that a) had any lead in them and b) were of close enough colour to my yarns not to get me all in a muddle

after my plotting i rested for it took way more out of me then i thought it would to plot and plan a little knitty flower on graph paper

on monday, i bravely went where my knitty soul has never gone before

on tuesday, i noted several things, thing one: i could read a graph pattern and translate it into knitting. thing two: i could do this if a) no one, not even a critter spoke to me and b) if i kept my tongue slightly poked out to aid maximum concentration

a few days later, it required my knitty specimen to be handled with great care. pacing myself and the tangled threads i left behind required deep breathing and many many breaks

one week later i saw improvement in my stitching, picking the knit, throwing the purl. i no longer got my yarns in a twist and when changing colours i carried and looped so no gaps appeared. i grew impatient, i wished for my yarny flower to be complete, already other yarny makes were whispering in my ear

one and a half weeks later, staying strong, ignoring those whisperings i came out victorious. my six coloured knitty flower was complete. was it perfectly perfect? not a chance. was it squiffy and wonky? by the bucket load. would it win a rosette if a rosette were up for grabs? i very muchly doubt it.

but that does not matter in the itty bitty least. 

for what it did do, is precisely what i so hoped it would do, what so often when you try something new with your crafty soul appears to happen. you step back and you cannot help but marvel at how much sense of inner pride and satisfaction comes with pushing your crafty cogs beyond their comfort zone 

did i think less than 2 months back i would even be picking up the old rusty dusty knitting needles again, no sirree! and even more so, did i ever think i would dabble with more than one colour thread on my needles, not a chance, i would have said you were barking mad to think ever a day would come. but come it did and with it whole new little section in my crafty soul has opened up and embraced a love of knitting again which i thought was lost forever

knitty new flash number two:

hurrah hooray! tomorrow is the grand old big old day! as a reminder Tolt Yarn and Wool is opening its doors and welcomes one and all to come on by and say hello and see what is what and who is who. i will be there with my shop assistant cap on and my very own name badge! from 2 till 6, and if you do happen to come for a visit, be sure to say hello


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