Dammit, dammit, dammit. I realized last night that I had been within 30 blocks of Quincy's LYS. I hate when that happens.
I didn't even know Quincy had a LYS, and I only get there once a year. I always shop for yarn in Hannibal at Mark Twain Yarn and Diorama Museum. What a name, eh? And they're websiteless to boot. Even though I came home with some handspun, natural-colored wool yarn, there's always the possibility that Knit Your Dreams had the perfect yarn, the yarn of my dreams.
How could it not, with that name?