It doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it? I mean, we all know what “banned” means. It means you’re toast. Your goose is cooked. You’re fried. (The following interlude is brought to you by the Nasty Little Man Who Sits On My Shoulder, and who keeps whispering: “Remember, this is 2019, and thou art… Continue reading Banned in Boston. Oh, Wait. I mean “Restricted on Ravelry.”
All Purls. No Swine.