Yaaaaaarrrrrr [n]


So, me proud beauties, today is Talk Like A Pirate day, an occasion fer all ye land lubbers to dance to a hornpipe and knit like the proud sailing wenches ye all are!

Now, before you get the idea that I’m simply a hanger-on, a wanna-be, or some other hyphenated non-starter, please take a gander at the DEDICATION page of Romantic Hand Knits (or as I call it, Knit Like A Romantic Pirate)

To The Yarrn Pirates

Yes, I am a yarrn pirate. Avast. The group that I belonged to in NJ called ourselves the “Yarn Pirates” because one day, as we were sitting around staring at the ocean (seriously) during a weekend knitting retreat, we decided to try to talk with an Irish accent (one of our numbers husband was Irish, we were just trying to make her feel at home…)

But we didn’t sound Irish. We sounded like PIRATES.

And thus, the name of our knitting group was born.

So as the rest of the world things of this as Talk Like A Pirate day, it will always be KNIT Like A Pirate Day to me.


Homeward Bound
After an amazing 2 days teaching at Stitch Cleveland/River Colors Yarn, I’m in the airport waiting for my flight.

I just spoke with Gerry, I have a prednisone prescription waiting for me at the drugstore, life is good. I’m absolutely nuts to see the kids, especially little Maxie.

I’m sitting in the railway station airport
Got a ticket for my destination.
On a tour of one two-night stands
my suitcase and guitar my yarn in hand.
And ev’ry stop is neatly planned
for a poet knitter and a one-woman band LLC.

Ev’ry day’s an endless stream
Of cigarettes iced coffees and knitting magazines.
And each town looks the same to me,
the movies yarn shops and the factories fiber farms
And ev’ry stranger’s face I see reminds me that I long to be,
Homeward bound.

I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s kids are playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

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