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The Knit-Point
Mary Stowe, of Yarns Etc has always had an inclusive vision of fiber arts. That is how, four years ago, Three Waters Farm ended up with a pied-a-terre in Carrboro inside Marys store, teaching spinning and selling our homegrown-handspun and other handpainted yarns and fibers. We were happy there, next to Balloons and Tunes and across the street from the Carrboro Farmers Market. But last summer, Opportunity came knocking and so this past August we moved to the other side of the tracks,* into Chapel Hill, into a larger store. Now Chapel Hill is a fine place. We are enjoying ourselves very much in our new location. We are now within stitching distance of Whole Foods, A Southern Season, and Trader Joes and so just about everybody who eats chocolate and drinks coffee comes in and visits at least once a month. In the spirit of the Etc. in Yarns Etc., Mary invited Nancy McGuffin of Chapel Hill Needlepoint to join us. I admit that I have harbored a small prejudice against needlepoint, mostly concerning the fact that needlepointers have to look down, whereas knitters can spend a lot of time looking up. (This may seem irrelevant to you, but my other hobby is recreational spying and I dont like to miss anything.) Well. Since August I have gone from having a small prejudice about needlepoint to having a serious concern about needlepoint. It was during the Fall, while looking up from my knitting, that I first had a hunch that needlepoint might be CONTAGIOUS. Since that time, I have confirmed the theory that you are likely to catch needlepoint if you have sufficient exposure, no matter how much you wash your hands and dont touch your face, First it happened to me (I have a weak immune system when it comes to fiber arts,) then Vicky, then Mary, then Rebecca, then Hannah and the list goes on, getting ever longer with every passing day. I know that you may think that this is preposterous, perhaps the figment of a fevered imagination, and you would be right, but look at the evidence. *a local joke playing on the difference between the storied Town of Chapel Hill and its formally servile and downtrodden neighbor, the Town of Carrboro, told from the tongue-in-cheek (or maybe not) point of view of the residents of Carrboro
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