Weeks after the first successful fabric swap, I'm still getting emails. They're of the "Oh darn, I missed this one. When will you do it again?" and "Let me know when you do this next time!" variety. I've dutifully responded to them all, although one response bounced back to me even though I swear the email address was correct down to the last letter.
For those of you who want to see a swift repeat, you're in luck. I'm off to the Rogers Park Public Library to book another evening of fabric fun in a twinkle. I'll do it just as soon as it gets a few degrees warmer here. Right now, we've got March madness (cold weather, lots of bone-chilling humidity) even though it's June. I know the library is a few blocks from my home and walking there would probably be enough for me to break into a sweet sweat, but I'm not budging just yet. I need to soak up the sun as I head to the library. Oh yes, it wouldn't hurt if some of the books I've put on hold are available as soon as possible. That might actually draw me out boldly into the cold: the prospect of new books to read while I'm on the bus and the train.
For those of you who didn't participate in the last go-around, here's what you need to know. We don't deal in scraps or remnants at our swap. That might sound a little elitist, but it's simply practical. It's hard enough to sort sumptuous swaths of polyester, wool or even suede, but little pieces of the same are enough to drove a sewing community organizer insane. It's bad enough to walk out of a library covered head to toe with different colors of thread and not one book in my hands, but try sorting these itsy-bitsy pieces one day and you'll see what I mean quickly.
What else? Be prepared to leave the library with lots of stuff. So bring those Whole Foods and Trader Joe bags. Park a get-away vehicle with an empty trunk in the back, but if I see you tear out of the lot with wheels screeching, I'm going to be mighty suspicious that you're off to sell your goods in the blackmarket. For those you don't deal in histrionic he-man driving, a grocery cart would be handy.
Be prepared, too, to make new friends. Of the crafty, "I grow mung bean sprouts, how about you?" genus. Have business cards and flyers on your person (or at least in the aforementioned grocery cart). These friendly folk will be beyond helpful in your quest to find a particular out-of-print pattern, fabric or yarn. (Which brings me to another point. I'm looking for one skein of Gedifra Wellness 2115, lot 9100. Anyone out there got what I need?)
I can't say for sure the swap will abate any itch for brand-new fabric. I've yet to see a survey or a poll on that topic, although it seems like a timely one for the likes of Crafstylish. I mean I acquired a nearly new nice knit at the last exchange, and I was still looking longing at the new scallop-edge cotton at Vogue Fabrics on Monday (see above photo). I even took some photos of it because that was free compared to buying, which would actually mean taking some money out of my checking account. Pictures aren't the same, but they don't take up as nearly as much space as actual textiles. Photographs of fabric, especially of the digital kind, don't attract dustmites, and don't fight for space in the closet with clothes.
Back to the swap. Encourage me to step outside, break free from my comfort zone and just get over to the library now. Or at least at lunchtime. Stimulate my feet with the thought of a slice of pizza bought along the way. Tell me that it's on my way to Arcadia Knitting. Or even to Hopleaf. Spur me by telling me that a little exercise would help me drop a few pounds. Just tell me to get away from the MacBook for a few minutes. Won't kill me, or even injure me. Nudge me. Book the fabric swap. It's just another to-do on the Big List of Things to Do Today. Not tomorrow. Not this weekend. Today.