The needles were easy enough; I had a much harder time selecting some yarn for my mother. I poked around the shop -- which is currently having a big sale -- picking up and putting down several yarns, several times over.
Occasionally, I would half-heartedly decide on an appropriate selection, and place a few skeins into my basket. But by the next circumnavigation of the shop floor, I'd put them back.
Now, Piggy does have a tendency to prevaricate. I'm the first to admit, I have a hard time making decisions. But this wasn't the main problem on this particular stash-enhancing expedition. Because, of course, I wasn't shopping for my stash. At least, I wasn't supposed to be.
And yet I was. The yarns I was dropping into my basket were ones I loved: mostly solids in greens, purples and hot pinks; occasionally a skein of undyed cashmere laceweight. I wasn't considering my mother's taste in yarns.
Once that fact finally made it through my thick skull (a good 45 minutes or so into my visit to this very small shop), it all became easy.
"Just find something you hate, Piggy...she'll probably love it."
And in seconds, this stuff jumped into my basket:
Four skeins of Noro Blossom. That's right, Noro. I'm ashamed to admit it, piggies, but my mother is a bit of a Noro Whoro. Not all that surprising, really, since she loves wild jumbles of colours that usually turn Piggy right off.
So, I kept the Noro, (and put the eight skeins of hot pink Cathay back on the shelf -- don't fall over yourself in surprise) and brought it to Gibsons. My mum loves it.
It takes all kinds to make a world.