I've closed the commnets on the giveaway blog posts. I'll be posting the 'winners' shortly. I gave up pretty quickly on picking favorites and will do it all with a random number generator.
I leave you with the following, something I read on the ride home from work tonight that struck me. NB - I take 'crochet' less than literally. This is a translation from the Portuguese, although the hooked ivory needle does make it sound like he was really talking about crochet.
"I make landscapes out of what I feel. I make holidays of my sensations. I can easily understand women who embroider out of sorrow or who crochet because life exists. My elderly aunt would play solitaire throughout the endless evening. These confessions of what I feel are my solitaire. I don't interpret them like those who read cards to tell the future. I don't probe them, because in solitaire the cards don't have any special significance. I unwind myself like a multicolored skein, or I make string figures of myself, like those woven on spread fingers and passed from child to child. I take care only that my thumb not miss its loop. Then I turn over my hand and the figure changes. And I start over.
To live is to crochet according to a pattern that we were given. But while doing it the mind is at liberty, and all enchanted princes can stroll in their parks between one and another plunge of the hooked ivory needle. Needlework of things .... Intervals ... Nothing.... "
- translated by Richard Zenith, Penguin Books, 2003