mamacate

From Sheep to Shawl

Blocked.

Photographed.

Silhouetted.

In repose.

Project specs (I never do this because I can never remember):

Hyrna Hergorbar, from Three-Cornered and Long Shawls by the incomparable Sigridur Halldórsdóttir (I bow to you, Sigridur, though your charts made my eyes cross).  The book is now (again) available from Schoolhouse Press.

The wool is from an Icelandic lamb from Jager Farm, just up the road from my house.  Unfortunately Barbara didn’t remember the lamb's name.  Washed and carded by me.  Spun by me.  Knitted by me.  Me.  Yes, me.

I freely admit that it's more granny than glam, but I love it fiercely and with brazen immodesty.  It's a cool shawl, but its beauty doesn't quite explain my passion for it.  I think it's the magic trick that Stephanie has been talking about: I've conjured a frill, a bloom, a cultural connection and a pretty thing to warm my shoulders from the shearings of an angry sheep.  My life is filled to the brim with intangible results, from my brilliant and charming children in whom I am trying to instill the desire to be law-abiding citizens, to the impossible task of describing and measuring liberal arts education, to the endless stream of laundry and dishes and carpets replete with grime.  I do it.  And I do it again.  And it's still there.

This was sheep hair.  Now it is my shawl.  And the only people responsible are myself and the shearer.  This is a thing that is truly mine.  And that, I think, is why I do this.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.  And this, Mr. Keats, is the flowery band I wreathe that binds me to this earth.

Not too bad for a guinea pig.

Dragging it out?

Milking it for all it's worth?

Lollygagging around?

Why yes.

If you people want a guinea pig, you're just going to have to deal with a slow one.  A slow, narcissistic guinea pig.

That said, I started to worry toward the end that this shawl might be all process, no product.  I loved making it so much (except for that whole frogging thing in the Adirondacks; we try not to speak of that), that I was a little concerned that the finished product might not live up to the process.

I'm not so worried anymore.

Yes, when it's blocked, I'll do the photo shoot over again, and then some.  And if you're going to Vermont Sheep & Wool, I'll be the one showing off her new shawl to every freakin' person willing to listen.

I think I need to lie down.  No, wait, blocking first.

Almost...

..done.

But not quite.

Note to Self

• Next time someone asks you to analyze something, survey someone, or summarize anything, even if they’re willing to pay you, the answer is NO.  Or perhaps, "Sure, I’ll do that first thing in 2007."
• Vacations, last time we checked, were supposed to be LESS stressful than daily life.
• Sometimes you can jump through hoops to get dialup in a rather remote mountain resort town, spending hours fiddling and giving your credit card number to various ISPs, and then the motel next door turns on its wireless modem, and you know, you’re all set.  I’m just saying.  Now how do I get rid of this stupid Juno speedband thing?
• Do NOT, no matter how close it is to naptime, and no matter that Terry (partner of Sara) carried Toby on her HIP the whole way and back the day before, do NOT attempt to carry your 30-lb son on your shoulders for a mile on a primitive trail through the woods.  Unless of course you enjoy holding your head at a quizzical angle and wincing in pain every time you have to move.  Because—NEWSFLASH—Terry is WAY tougher than you.  Like, duh.
• When you screw up the increases on your unpronounceable shawl (remember how I said it was so soothing and easy because I didn’t have to worry about increases?  Yeah, well, it wasn’t so much that I didn’t have to worry about increases as that I didn’t read the pattern), do not attempt to drop stitches down 12 rows to fix it, because you’re talking a lot of increases there and there is SO not enough slack to make them with, and when you realize this, don’t continue to press on, making the world’s tightest little yarn-overs as if it’s all going to come out in blocking even though you know way better than that, because when you’ve worked those rock-hard little stitches with not enough yarn, when you’ve spent four hours fiddling with this cursed mistake, you will hold it back, look at it with your head cocked at a quizzical angle (well, that’s actually because you can’t move your neck, but you know what I mean), and you will say to yourself, “self, you have to rip this back out, what the hell were you thinking?”  And you will have no answer.  We’ve had this conversation before.
• Finally, don’t take too long of a blogging break from the late report you’re working on, on vacation, for work (and don't tell me not to work on vacation, because people with three jobs and only 24 hours of child care don't get vacations, don't worry, it won't always be this way), because your partner, who is being a terribly good sport, will be back with the kids from the lake before you know it, and if you haven’t accomplished anything, you’re going to feel crappy and she will be unimpressed.

Also…oh, wait.  Right.  Okay, back to work…I mean vacation…oh, something.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

I've been knitting, with confidence, hope, you know.

It's all about the shawls.  And, of course, the spokesmodels.

I finished up all the Indigo Moon handspun for the Diamond shawl, but there's more knitting to go.  Here's what I got out of the first 350 yards or so.

And here's what I spun up for another repeat or so.  I had to go to bed last night, but I probably have a hundred yards or so left to ply so that will be for the i-cord edging along the top, I suppose.  That will be a full batt--about 8 oz.

And, sans spokesmodels since these balene circs (which I love when they work) have an awful tendency to break apart, and I figured it would be safest on the grass, the current status of Hyrna Hergorbar, the icelandic shawl from the icelandic shawl book.

I also spun another skein for this one, and I'm anticipating maybe needing one more skein before I'm done.  The pattern is actually really easy to memorize.  The double yarn-overs are a little fiddly, but overall it has not been terribly difficult and with the translation and the chart it's pretty much cake.  I was going to rechart the whole thing with familiar symbols, but it hasn't been necessary so far.

Right now I'm kind of splitting my energies (sound familiar?  Ha!) between these two.  I'll get back to other projects when I finish one of them (the diamonds is obviously the front-runner for finishing first), but for now I'm really enjoying knitting with handspun, especially when I don't have to worry about fit.  Will I ever make another sweater?  Will I ever finish another sweater?

Too hot?

Too hot to knit with wool?

Not for some people.

Hot weather?  That's why we have spinning.

And lace.

 

Book Learnin'

Today was the highly entertaining and informative Alden Amos & Stephenie Gaustad production spinning class.  I learned a bit more about long draw (still have a long way to go before I'm good at it) and we had fun playing with making rope.  Alden and Stephenie are quite entertaining, and everyone had fun giving Marcy a hard time.

Speaking of Marcy, you may have heard her complaining about her lack of linkability.  In other words, she regularly appears in long lists of people all of whom have blue underlining under their names, but, being blogless, she remains in sedate black & white.  A sad state of affairs, but one that is about to be remedied.  I give you, the linked Marcy.  Feel free to link to her photo here if you are blogging her.  I do reserve the right to caption at will.  Suggestions accepted.  (BTW, if you think I'm giving Marcy a hard time, you should have seen Alden giving her grief.)

Anyway, yarn was spun, yarns were told, rope was created, off-color jokes were made, and a nice respite from the recovery couch was had.  I also finally got to meet Claudia and Rosemary, saw Dharia, Judy, and Helen, among others, again, and generallly had a fibery day.  Stephenie took a group picture; I hope to see it at some point.

Oh yes, I got to see the unpronounceable Icelandic Shawl book in living color.  Claudia was coaching Marcy on how she should sell it on ebay.  Can't wait to get my own copy.  Juno tells me that the folks at Schoolhouse Press were laughing on Friday when the blogo-whatever got wind of the book's availability.  Hopefully they won't have to send another boat from Iceland to keep us all happy.

I'm hoping to get started before the slow boat arrives, however.  I've got about 350 yards of laceweight icelandic lambswool from a lamb fleece purchased from Barbara at Jager Farm at Cummington.  It is itching to become a shawl.

Someone asked about WPI.  I only measured the singles (and I'm always a little skeptical about WPI measurements) but the singles came out to 64, so that would make the 2-ply 32 WPI.  If I listened to Alden & Stephenie today, I should be talking grist, but I haven't done any weighing so I don't know.  Anyway, my diamond shawl pattern hasn't found its way back to me yet, so there may be a little casting on in my future.

I need to go help my lovely partner wrangle the kids to dinner, but there was a request for a photo of the snuggly spinning.  I will note that this does NOT work with a kid who is not completely zoned out in front of the TV.  I normally do not spin when the kids are up either.  But our little recovery period has been a good time for snuggle spinning.  Note the "armie" going on there with my drafting arm.

Snuggle spinning: now that's a way to spend an evening.

Das Book is on Das Boot

So, about the shawl, the book, the copyright, the translation, etc., etc., etc.

I just spoke with Schoolhouse Press in the process of ordering the translation of the Icelandic Shawl book (Þríhyrnur og Langsjöl, as if I had a prayer of pronouncing that).  The rumors of its reprinting are not only true, but apparently the book is already on the boat and is expected to be ready for shipping in July!  You can backorder your copy from Schoolhouse Press right now.  They even said it was okay for me to blog that information.  Yee haw, and all that.  Marcy, what's the icelandic for "yippee!"?  (I knew Marcy would be able to help with this, but I didn't know that I'd learn to curse in icelandic.  It is good to have friends who understand what's important.)

I guess I won't have such a unique shawl after all.  More love to go around.  And that's what matters.  As Risa says, knit craft on.

Unglued

I'm stealing a quick moment away at the computer ("making letters!") while the baby boy bird sleeps.  It's a momentary break from near-constant adhesion.  I literally have him STUCK to my right arm all day long (and in this weather, stuck is the word, though we have heaved the air conditioners into 2 of their 3 windows--kids room and living room--and I am currently blissfully cool). 

I don't think that I've mentioned that, instead of a blankie or bear or tattered scrap of something or other, my dear son's attachment object is me.  No, I don't mean that he's attached to me (he is, but kids with blankies are attached to their parents too).  I mean that his source of comfort when he's feeling anxious, tired, or sore, is my arm.  Specifically, my arm hair.  He twiddles and plucks it.  Mostly gently.  Sometimes he needs a reminder about the gentle part.  He calls it "armie."  Seriously.  Weird.  Can't imagine where he gets that. 

Thankfully (and of course, this is the important part), I have figured out how to spin while he is nestled in my armpit fiddling with my arm hair.  I draft wtih that hand, and it all seems to work out.  This has been a good thing over the last three days.

The recovery has been much better than I expected, but it has not been entirely easy either.  (And here is the point where he wakes up and, well, nestles in my armpit to fall asleep again.)  Today has been rougher for him than the prior two days (they warned us of this), plus, at the moments when he's feeling better, he's not coping well with the restrictions on his activity.  We confirmed with the doctor and yes, we really do have to keep him quiet; I guess he's even more at risk of bleeding now than he was just after the surgery.  He has also decided to be completely opposed to taking any kind of medicine (though he still wants my sandwich, so it's not that he doesn't want to eat or drink anything).  So it has been a wrestling match to keep the painkillers in him, but our brief attempt at letting him decide did not work out well, so the struggle is necessary.

So things are going well but slowly chez mama.  All this sitting on my ass has some benefit, however.  I mentioned I've been spinning.  I turned this icelandic lamb fleece from Cummington

Into this:

Which, when plied, will hopefully look as much like this as possible:

Which would be really good, because I have become completely obsessed with making this.  And believe it or not, I think I have all the ingredients I need to do so, though knowing one single freakin' word of icelandic might actually help.  The good news: I will know a fair number of words in icelandic by the time I'm done; mostly about knitting.  If I ever travel to rural Iceland, we can talk wool.  Won't be much different from my travels to other places.

I left the pattern for the diamond shawl at the hospital ("what?  he's awake?  GET ME IN THERE!"), so I'm waiting to get that back (I could do all of it from looking/memory except for the edges of the diamond pattern, which always look WRONG until you're about 10 rows away, so I don't want to try it chartless).  I also hear that the rest of the yarn for my Fleece Artist/Hand Maiden FBS is on its way here.  So I'm going to have a lot of lace in my future, in, if I do say so myself, some pretty nice yarn.  Once again feeling like a sheep and wondering why this seems like a bad thing, I understand this is the Summer of Lace.  Works for me.

So while my sweet boy sleeps, I'll spin my little heart out, dreaming of Icelandic lace.  Sweet dreams to you too...