I made more pink yarn. It's like Close Encounters of the Third Kind when Richard Dreyfuss carves the same shape over and over into his mashed potatoes. Only with a spinning wheel, wool and dye.
The aliens of pink are going to be coming for their yarn. Give them my address; it's all waiting here for them.
It's the only explanation of why I am compelled to keep up with the pink lately. It's really not my color, but it doesn't seem to matter how much I deny it.
In non-pink news, I used the FIVE flavors of hecho en mexico aguas frescas kool-aid today and I should be able to show it off tomorrow. Various bits of wool roving are spread out over the apartment drying as I type.
Tease: pleasant surprises were mango and tamarindo (though the latter smelled funky). Terrible shock was the mandarina. Think neon orange.