Last night, I met up with Amy for a knit date. It was a perfectly innocent plan; we'd meet up for some food, conversation and knitting out of the house, but not even in a yarn store where even the most virtuous knitter can find herself in trouble (as Amy can attest to after her innocuous trip into Halcyon earlier in the day). Except... Amy brought yarn. Exotic yarn. From far-flung locales. She brought yarn I've never seen in person. Yarn that I had been denying myself with the excuse that it probably wasn't all that great. Most notably, she brought Socks that Rock. I feel my life has been changed. Who knew that something with no nylon or elastic could be so sproingy and squishy? The lame online pictures could not prepare me for the saturation of color, or the beautiful way the yarn knits into fabric. I must get my hands on some. Unfortunately, I already bought yarn yesterday and I'm trying to behave at least a little bit until after June, so I can't order some immediately. But seriously, I've been to the Blue Moon site three times today already, and I don't know if I can hold out until the summer.