Once again, by complete accident, I've ended up at craft supply stores shortly after payday. Not the best timing on my part. My yarn stash is just shy of reaching the "when on earth do you expect to have the time to complete all those projects" stage. I have no self-control when confronted with a brightly colored clearance sign and funky textured yarns. Oh well. There are more expensive and less productive vices I could have; being a yarn sensualist isn't going to break the bank just yet.
Many of the people I saw at the store were middle-aged to older women, especially with my tendency to linger in the yarn aisles. There were, of course, exceptions. I kept passing a group of three Amish (or Mennonite; I didn't ask) women. They were probably around my age. Their hair-coverings were my first tip-off, and then I noticed their dresses--not stodgy, faded colors, but simple floral prints, full-length and I would guess by the length, homemade.
It was a bit brisk out today, not cold, just enough that a light jacket or sweater would be welcome. I was wearing a fleece poncho myself.
The Amish women? Hoodies. And flip-flops.
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