Do you know what happens when a bread baker can't bake bread because people are eating the last loaf too slow?
She knits. (And quilts--I'll be sharing that soon) And buys yarn. And knits some more. And buys some more yarn. And buys some more yarn.
Admittedly, the bread baker has a problem. She was buying it faster than she could knit it. The bread baker's tiny cupboard full of yarn could only close with a two handed shove until the latch caught. About a week or so ago, the bread baker took her daughter to a local yarn shop and picked up some really fabulous yarn; some for socks for herself, soft cotton candy pink for a hat for her daughter and two balls of rainbow fluff for--well it's rainbow fluff! Who wouldn't bring it home? It all came home and it was placed on the bottom of an open set of shelves.
Soon after, the bread baker went to another store to get some beads for the hat and came home not with beads but with some cotton yarn on sale. You see, the bread baker is very tired of buying things that get one use and gets thrown away so she has been knitting mop cloths for when the last of the Swiffer-things run out. (She stitched a dozen linen napkins last month too, but hasn't embroidered them yet so hasn't shared them here yet) At home, the bread baker noticed that there hadn't been any English Muffins in the house lately and whipped up a batch. As she cleaned up, she noticed her washcloths were rather ratty looking and decided to use the cotton yarn to knit washcloths and then with all the left overs from the various skeins she bought she would then knit the mop cloths. Excellent plan with minimal waste she thought. The bread baker finished cast on and finished a wash cloth that night.
A couple days passed and the bread baker realized that her friend didn't seem to show enough enthusiasm when the bread baker showed off her new socks. It occurred to the bread baker that the friend just didn't know what it felt like to wear hand knitted socks and nothing else would do but to knit the friend a pair of socks so she, too, would know the luxurious feeling of hand knitted goodness hugging the feet.
The bread baker and the friend arranged to go to the yarn store and dinner one evening. The friend picked out a skein of yarn that was deep green, navy blue and with just a touch of brown and purple running through it called David's Eyes. The bread baker admired it for a moment but appeased her jewel tone loving side by snatching up a ruby red skein. She kept her hands at her sides while passing a fabulous green but two clearanced skeins of purple and white cotton made it into her hands and back home with her along with that ruby red. And, of course, David's Eyes.
Back at home later that night, the bread baker was straightening up the living room. Most of the disarray belonged to her children but there was some that was her own. The washcloth count was still at one but she had taken a break from wash cloths because her husband had bought her a knitting book that a woman from her knitting group had recommended and she had cast on a Raspberry Rhapsody Scarf that she liked in that book. Don't judge the bread baker for being fickle; she also wanted her husband to see how much she liked the book because he seemed to be worried that she didn't like it by asking several times if the project she had been working on came from that book. Anyways--all those random balls of yarn had to go somewhere to finish the tidying up and she shoved them in a bag and pushed them under the couch.
Next day, she cast on the friend's sock and knitted happily through three quarters of it. The bread baker decided that although the colors of David's Eyes were pretty they just weren't for her. She reminded herself that that was okay because the socks weren't for her after all! That thought was enough to get her to finish the first sock. It wasn't enough to get through the second sock.
Instead of casting on for that second sock, the bread baker pulled out some cotton yarn and knitted two more wash cloths. Then, casting around for something else to do rather than face David's Eyes again, the bread baker remembered her quilt that she had cut the pieces for but had only pieced together about 10 of the 100 blocks or so. The bread baker applied herself to the quilt and pieced the whole darn thing together. Then she basted it. And machine quilted it. And even bound one side of it but the store didn't have enough binding for the other three sides (a story whose length might even rival this bit of drivel, by the way, so I'll spare you) and reluctantly decided that there was nothing left to do but cast on for the second sock. But first she checked one more store for the necessary binding and didn't find it but came home with some more sock yarn for socks for her son for Christmas. The bread baker stuffed that bag of yarn under the couch and pulled out David's Eyes.
The bread baker cast on the second sock and knitted it until it was exactly the same size the first one had been (the cuff plus a few more rounds) when she took its mate to knitting group last Thursday. Feeling sheepish that it looked like in a week's time she had gotten no where on the sock the bread baker made sure to leave the completed first sock half out where it would be sure to be noticed and would free her from feeling like a lazy knitter. That wasn't enough and she even made sure to mention it aloud at knitting group. She was diligent and knitted nearly to the heel of that second sock before deciding that was enough for one day.
The daughter of the bread baker was looking through that first bag of yarn (remember the rainbow fluff?) and had the bag between her legs while she sat on the floor. She pulled each skein out and oohed and ahhed. The bread baker felt a little twitchy at her daughter touching the yarn but bit her tongue and didn't say anything. Then her daughter noticed something under the couch and pulled out a bag.
"More yarn, Mama?"
"Just a little," The bread baker answered. And winced as her daughter delved under the couch again and brought out another bag.
"MORE??!!" Her daughter was laughing. (You know the sort of laugh, I mean, don't you? The sort that implies in every ha ha of its tone that it's producer thinks you are crazy.)
The bread baker turned red and grabbed the yarn and jammed it back in its bags and stashed all that yarn under the couch.
And that, my friends, is how the bread baker realized three things:
1. She is now the owner of a stash.
2. It's called a stash because its owner is embarrassed and stashes it out of sight of others' judging eyes.
3. None of this would have happened if the bread baker's family, friends and neighbors would consume more bread at a faster rate.