mamacate

I forgot my blogiversary but getting older is harder to miss

So I don't think I mentioned that I'd been doing this blogging thing for three years in June.  So now it's three years plus.  Thing is I'm not doing it that much anymore, so I'm not sure how impressed I can be with myself at this point.  It's hard to have something to say for that long.  Aren't you sick of me?

Anyway, don't answer that, because tomorrow (Tuesday) is my birthday.  I'm a rather boring age, 38, but that's okay, because it means I have a little while until I need to start thinking about being 40.

There have been comments from certain quarters about the need to observe the wild sweater in its natural habitat.  My rack, that is.  Well, that's part of the problem.  See it took me a few wearings to really come to terms with the fact that the neckline is too wide and too low, and the raglan is too long and I will probably need to do something involving scissors and weeping and possibly also alcohol.  There hasn't been time to come to terms with it. 

Love steeking, love it, but the downside is that if you fucked something up, you're screwed because you've got yourself one-row strips of yarn there to work with.  Ain't no frogging.  I have evil thoughts that involve cutting and seaming around the shoulder tops but I'm not terribly optimistic.  --Deb has been down a similar road and it hasn't been easy.  I will probably put the sweater in time out for a while and wear it, because it's just barely wearable, but not quite nice--not as nice as I believe it should be--before I bend it to my will.  I'll let you know when I get there, I promise.  Heck, maybe I'll cut it in public again.  Anyway, learn from my mistake.  If you knit the larger sizes, make the neckline WAY smaller than the pattern suggests.  If I rip and re-knit, I'm going to remove a whole pattern repeat.  Did I mention I made the neckline over an inch higher than the pattern called for?  Yah.  Row gauge was fine while knitting, though I haven't had the heart to measure it post-blocking.

Oh right, did I mention a picture of my rack?  Here you go:

I might entertain exhortations to leave it as is, but you'll have to see me wearing it and tugging at it before you can be sure.  Anyway, pretty colors, huh?

In other news, Ellie got a new scarf.  Laura talked me into buying this insane roving from Heather at the Fiber Revival, and when I got home with the skein, which I spun at the Revival, Miss Ellie declared that it would be hers.  She preferred a Faroese shawl, but a quick calculation had me convincing her that a scarf would be a better choice.  A brief negotiation on the topic of fringe had the deal complete.  Two short evenings of knitting, a little fringing, and we've got a happy girl.

Of course, she's also decided that the scarf makes her a rock star.  I tried to point out that she was already a rock star, but it can be hard to talk to rock stars sometimes, especially when they're rocking out.  See?

Just so that my son does not suffer the combined indignities of not being the current recipient of knitwear (don't worry, it won't be long) and of not being featured on the blog in all his cuteness, I give you a picture of a couple of best friends.

Can ya stand it?

In wheel news, I have divested myself of a very well-loved wheel, because someone else loved it better.  The Norm Hall needed to go back and live with Sara, which is okay because it's too similar in function to my other wheel.  I've already used some of the proceeds to pick up a used Schacht, which so far rocks my world.  I'll probably hang on to the Lendrum for travel (maybe...maybe not), but the Schacht could easily become my primary wheel.  I just like spinning on double drive.

I think I'll go do just that.  I need to come up with some solstice gifts for teachers, plus I have a deprived child who has no currently fitting knitwear.

In Which Shannon Okey Gets a Toaster

Happy Friday, and welcome to my Spin to Knit blog tour interview with Shannon Okey--random blatherings will return next time I have a minute.

mama: So Shannon, first of all, I must say, this book really fills a void out there for someone who is just learning to spin and wants a good resource to feed the obsession learn technique.  Having a good book out there is a great benefit to the enabling community, and I believe that in one fell swoop, there, you've won yourself a toaster.  At one point, there was this idea with a t-shirt and such for enablers.  It never got off the ground, but you'd certainly be a member. I figure a toaster is even better...

Shannon: Oooooooh. Sign me UP!

mama: One of the things that I like best about this book is that it's a great overview for a new spinner.  In my enabling travels, I am sometimes asked for book recommendations for new spinners, and there hasn't been a lot out there until this.  What is your best advice for new spinners?

Shannon: Unless you're allergic, start with wool, and unless you've got an elbow or arm problem like me, start on a spindle. If you can spindle, the wheel will be a snap. But it's not a hard and fast rule -- I learned on a wheel before the spindle. (Talk about do as I say, not as I do!) Go somewhere you can experiment, such as a yarn store that stocks fiber equipment or a local guild, and try all different kinds of fiber and equipment. I guarantee something will click!

mama: You present both a detailed overview of spinning technique and then provide knitting patterns for handspun yarn.  What issues are new spinners likely to encounter when knitting with handspun?  Why do you think some spinners avoid knitting with their yarn for a long time?

Shannon: I've watched a lot of new spinners learn... sometimes they don't want to knit with their own yarn right away because they don't think its good enough. While I was taking photos of a Lynne Vogel class for the book, I overheard Lynne and Sandy Sitzman telling a brand-new spinner that one, she wouldn't ever be able to spin that way again (so enjoy it while you can) and two, it's not bad yarn, it's "designer yarn." That was so encouraging and kind... now I call all first efforts "designer yarn," and I suggest you save yourself a small hank to remember just what it was like. Because once you've been practicing for a bit, you'll never be able to spin that way again!

mama: I love the way you incorporate knitting with singles into your book, both because I'm always open to an opportunity to do 1/3 the work (only one strand, no plying), and because it's cool.  Can you talk a little about knitting with energized singles?

Shannon: Like almost all my favorite techniques (dishwasher dyeing comes to mind), it started as sheer laziness on my part. I'd spun the most beautiful colored roving and I wanted to get started right that very second. You know -- MUST KNIT NOW. I hadn't read much about the other artists who are known for using them in their work at that point (Kathryn Alexander, Lynne Vogel), so I didn't know quite what to expect...but once I watched what the singles could do even with the plainest of stitches, I was hooked. The way the stitches bias to the side especially lends itself to circular knitting, which is what I like best.

mama: I think we may be kindred spirits in the sense of doing something the very most labor-intensive way possible (hand-spinning and hand-knitting), and then looking for shortcuts and neat inventions that will speed up the process.  (Now I want to know if you're an ENTP too.) But anyway, you describe your inventions of a drinking straw spindle kate and a dishwasher dyeing technique in the book.  Have you come up with any other crazy (in a good way) ideas?  Anything in the works?

Shannon: Well, according to http://www.personalitytest.net, I'm an ENFP... close but no cigar. I am actually working on some (top secret for now) fiber tools -- my dad will probably get drafted into helping with the prototypes. One of my favorite cheats if I'm dyeing just a little bit of fiber or I need to wash some yarn is to put it in the salad spinner and zap out the excess liquid. I learned that one from Lynne.

mama: Finally, as I mentioned before, this book is a masterpiece of enabling.  A sort of assimilation by printed matter.  You deserve a toaster. And while much of this book covers the basics of spinning, I think it's a great book for an intermediate or advanced spinner who's looking for some great knitting projects designed for handspun, and who, um, might need a reference for the new spinners she's enabling.  There's ample evidence of your enabling handiwork around the net at the moment (Jenna?  Wilson?  SPINNING?). What advice do you have for spinners who are ready to enable the next crop of spinners?  Rhinebeck is coming up, after all...

Shannon: She sprung physics questions on me, so I put the real-world application in front of her... fair's fair. Though to be truthful, can you imagine Jenna spinning full time? What, like the brilliance of Rogue wasn't enough? We'd all be eating her wheel dust.

If you're enabling the next generation, your keyword is fiber fiber fiber. Find the softest, brightest, most amazing fiber you can...the fiber that just IS the person you're trying to teach. They'll want to do it so badly, they'll figure it out... people work best when they've got a goal in mind!

Go see more of Shannon on her next tour stops:

Sat. Oct. 7       
              January One      
                januaryone.com/

            

Mon. Oct. 9      
              Lolly Knitting Around      
                lollygirl.com/blog

            

Tues. Oct. 10   
              Crafty Chica Podcast and   Blog
              www.craftychica.com/blogs/diary/

            

Wed. Oct. 11   
              Booga J/ Whip   Up
              www.boogaj.com

            

Thurs. Oct. 12   
              The Hook and I 
              hookandi.blogspot.com/

I.O.U.

I owe you pictures.  My computer is back, just the same as ever, though I appreciate it more now.

But I owe you pictures.

Rogue

The hood is taking forever for some reason.  I'm enjoying this, but I am also ready to wear it.  And there's been some startitis (all from stash, thankyaverymuch).

Remember project spectrum?  Well, last day of April, here's my entry:

The sock yarn is my prize for being randomly selected as a winner in Sandy's blogiversary contest.  Cool beans.  I'm making a Claudia sock.  Apparently, the picot edging virus was transmitted via the yarn.  Sandy's doing the same.  On the right is a swatch for a maybe vest in Rowan Silken Tweed in copper.  I actually started it, and then for the first time ever, I found out why they always say "join in round BEING CAREFUL NOT TO TWIST STITCHES."  Doh.  A whole video movie's worth of knitting (Elizabethtown--odd), down the tubes.  Oh well, I think I'm going to go a different way with the ribbing anyway.

I'm back on the job with the cashgora.  Justine should have her final wedding shawl installment in the next week or two.

And despite not being fancy enough to be able to moblog like Judy, I did get a shot of the Most Excellent potluck lunch at the CT Sheep & Wool festival.  Note to self: knitters+potluck=really a lot of delicious, homemade, wonderful food.  Do not worry about not having enough.

Sunshine, food, knitters, and good conversation.  Good stuff.  Of course, everyone seemed to, erm, skitter off, after lunch.  I think they might have been avoiding me.  I couldn't even enable anyone into a (rather expensive, but still nice) polwarth fleece.  The kids had a blast up until the end when exhaustion caught up with them and there was a balloon incident (yes, it was me you were staring at with the two kids throwing themselves on the ground screaming, sigh).  When we finally got in the car, it was about 5 minutes before they were out cold.  Too much excitement.  Still.  The kids loved it, but it will be fun to go to NH and have some mom-time too.

I haven't had an official modeling of Henry's green sweater, so here's a pick from the fest that I like:

No, we didn't buy the sheep. 

Tomorrow is my first day as a regular employee.  I've been there since last February, but I'm strangely nervous.  Life is weird sometimes, isn't it?

Fibery Things at Which to Look

You'd think hooking up a USB cable and pressing the mouse a few times was an impossible task the way I avoid it.  But avoid it I do, so photos come sporadically, and blog posts only slightly less so.  In the interim, I enjoy the opportunity to distract my friends with "surprising" prouncements like memes that indicate that I am "a complete lunatic."  The "need food" theory as the determining factor predicting the assignment of Animal as muppet personality seems to hold firm (see the comments on the last post to find out who your lunatic friends are), though I'm intrigued by the fact that we're all the types who decide to reverse engineer a quiz that gives us an answer we don't like understand.

Anyway.  Pictures.

First of all, my better pal.  I'm one lucky gal.  Emma was my better pal, and that girl has impeccable taste and wide-ranging interests perfectly aligned with my own.

The final package arrived, along with her admission of guilt identity disclosure.  Thank you, Emma.  Thank you thank you thank you!

Now, on the right there is an exotic fiber variety pack from Scottish Fibres, which includes something called Coypu fiber.  I had, of course, to go looking it up, since I'd never heard of a Coypu.  Turns out it's an invasive species in the UK, sort of along the lines of possum fiber in New Zealand.  So I'm googling this information, and I make the mistake of sharing it with Rhys.  She waits a beat and says "Cate, FIBER is an invasive species," and then gestures to the overflowing project basket next to my chair.

What's your point?

Anyway, thank you Emma.  Not pictured are two delicious chocolate bars.  Sorry, I was too busy eating them while I took the picture.  The dyeing book is especially inspirational as the weather warms; I've ordered some madder and some alum so I can get going on this, and the book is greatly appreciated.  The sock yarn gave me an almost-irresistible case of startitis, and the Kaalund mohair made me sigh.  Most wonderfully, that cake of beautiful red yarn in the middle was dyed by Emma herself with cochineal.  How enormously cool, not to mention inspiring.

Thank you Emma, for being such a great better pal.  I loved my SP experiences, and I've loved my BP experience too.  My spoilee, by the by, was Jan of Be*mused, an incredible quilter and artist whose blog is always a feast for the eyes.  Jan, it was great to get to know you!

I appear to be participating in Project Spectrum in spite of myself.  I had no intention of signing up for this thing, and then I looked at my knitting.  Don't get me wrong, it's a great idea, but I tend to resist anything that prevents me from doing Exactly As I Please when it comes to knitting (note the absence of any sort of olympic medal on this blog).

So, the first month of Project Spectrum is March, and the color for March is Red.  Now, I confess to going on color jags with projects.  You can see last year's color scheme here.  So hey, I'm down with the cool kids because I'm knitting red, just like Project Spectrum said to do.  Go figure.

Starting from the top and going clockwise, that's my second Klaralund, this one in Kureyon, that I've been knitting rather languorously for a year now--it has been my mindless knitting project and I'll miss it.  It's off the needles now and is ready for seaming, which, if past experience is any guide, could take a while.

Next is Rogue, yes, I've finally given up on spinning for it (though I have more than 500m spun, I'm just not optimistic about matching the grist after all this time).  I got some nice Jaeger Shetland Aran on ebay, and here we go.  I'm using Claudia's mods for a cardigan, though I've already messed up the pocket (made a shorter hem but didn't start the pocket early).  Any reason I'll regret just picking up those stitches and knitting the pocket second instead of first?  I realize that almost every knitter on the Internet has already made this sweater, so I figure maybe someone has advice.

On the bottom and the left there is the Fleece Artist/Handmaiden goodies.  There were sales, things were bought, I have no comment for the press, except to say, "lookie!"  Pretty, huh?  The bottom one is 2-ply cashmere (I know) and will be a nice feather and fan scarf for work, and the one on the left is one of two giant skeins of mohair at 820ypp that I think is going to be Lady Eleanor from Scarf Style.  How could I not knit it with a name like that?  I love the colors of that yarn with all my heart, but was having a little trouble figuring out what to do with it.  Eleanor is a perfect match.

Speaking of Eleanor, this has resurfaced.

Even though I have 50 projects going, it's really not any worse than usual (sorry if you didn't know, I haven't been intentionally hiding these things from you).  I cast this on about this time last year, and sort of put it aside for, I kid you not, being too lazy to put the arms on stitch holders.  Since Marcia (dude, go over and give her some love for passing that test) and I are starting a "Knit While It Still Fits" KAL for those of us who are gaining weight at an alarming rate, it reminded me that my daughter is, in fact, supposed to be growing quickly, and therefore I should try to finish her projects within the decade.  I did everything past the armholes last night while watching Hitch (good movie, I know I'm the last person on the planet to see it), and it's nice to see it in a picture because it actually looks like I accomplished something.

Finally, in my red-orange (not purple) haze, this here bunnycrack is waiting in the wings

Until I finish this.

Two ounces of cashmere goes a long way.  I have about 1.5 times more than this on the other bobbin.  And I'm still loving it.

So Project Spectrum it is.  Stay tuned for the flashing of my sock yarn stash.  Don't get too excited, while not inconsiderable in size, it's not like I'm flashing my spinning fiber stash; I choose these things carefully, you know.  And a happy anniversary celebration tomorrow.  Fourteen years, baby.  I suppose now that we're past lucky 13, anything's possible, huh?

Photographic Evidence

I call this one "Boodle with a Red Scarf."

Dontcha love the Pat Benatar headband?  I adore three-year-old fashion.  The scarf is, yes, crocheted.  I occasionally bat for the other team, okay?  It's in the mail.  I hope someone enjoys it.

This one is "Going On Four Going On Fourteen."

No explanation necessary.

Justine, for whom I am spinning wedding shawl yarn, which she will then knit, should be watching her mailbox, because there are samples winging their way north. 

That's romeldale on the top, hand-combed British mule fleece (bluefaced leicester-border leicester cross) in the middle, and cashgora on the bottom.  I gotta tell ya I'm rooting for the cashgora, and I think the other yarns should probably be preparing for a Miss Congeniality award, because damn that stuff is soft and shiny and pretty much faboo.

Ahem:

The romeldale is a less sexy yarn, but it's a fascinating spinning challenge.  I'm really grateful for Cassie's timely gift of Margaret Stove's book on spinning merino.  Romeldale is quite similar, at least this fleece is (Wilma, sister of Juno's Gladys, is a bit less crimpy and elastic), and I'm learning how to spin it as I go.  It's a very different experience.  I thought that once I got good at spinning short-stapled fibers, I'd be all set to spin fine wools.  Turns out the issue is less with the staple length and more with the elasticity.  It's a very interesting experience, and the book is helping, though I don't think I'm quite there yet.  This skein came out reasonably well, but we'll see.

No matter what she chooses, this is gonna be fun.

Oops, I did it Again

I know, other people have used that title.  And actually, though I'm sure I've been subjected to Britney in elevators and shops, I wouldn't know that song to hear it.  But in a minute you'll understand.

Because I bought another fleece.

Because clearly, I do not have enough wool in my house.

And clearly, I live in a world where wool is scarce, and I have all the time in the world to process it in the slowest way possible, and then spin it, and knit it, and that's the only way I have of keeping warm this winter.

Right?

Okay, now that we're all in agreement that I'm not quite right when it comes to this, let me explain.

It's a colored Romeldale.

Black, with a bit of brown on the tips.

Hoggett.

Coated.

Skirted by a spinner.

Lives at a place the neighbors call "the Sheep Hilton," and

His name is Cedric.

Not a link-follower?  I'll flash you pics from Cedric's personal home page anyway.

I mean, who wouldn't have?

Now I have to explain this to mamarhys.  I will be sure to loudly and clearly place the blame upon Risa, who had to flash her CVM fleece over and over again (okay, once) and then link to the farm.  And people call me an enabler.  Please.  Anyone want to buy some stash?

Pssst...Kim has a few more 2005 fleeces and a whole bunch of reasonably-priced roving.  I'm just saying.

PS: Check out the farm pics page to see a sheep in the house.  Judy?  Look familiar?  We haven't heard from Sweetie Pie in a while, have we?  I assume, as big as she must be now, she's not watching TV in the living room anymore, right?

PPS: Still basically mute.  Have to get other people to make phone calls for me.  Aren't you glad that you, the reading public, receive uninterrupted reports of my maniacal behavior?  Don't answer that!

Coupla Photos, and Then a Bunch of Stuff About Wool

You know the blogging-life thing has gotten weird when your coworker (that's Minh, of the good TV tips), says to you, as you leave the office, "post halloween pics soon," and tells you that his wife has issues with the difficulty in separating fiber content from other topics.  All I can say is, I feel ya, but everywhere I look there seems to be wool.  Sorry about that.

So, ya want the halloween pictures, ya got the halloween pictures.

Eleanor was a bucket loader.  Actually, the bucket fell off at some point during trick-or-treating, at which point she became a forklift, a transition she handled admirably for a three-and-a-half-year-old.

Henry was a ghost, complete with bang-clank equipment and a ghostly crown created in mixed media (felt and pipe cleaners) by mamarhys.  Mamarhys is entirely responsible for the brilliant, creative costumes.

Mamarhys may be the crafty, fabulous mama, but guess who hit the markdown bin for costumes for the dress-up bin?  Who knew Halloween fell in the beginning of November for the children of the cheap parsimonious thrifty?

Yup, Henry's wearing the princess dress.  Rock on, dude.  Eleanor has on the spider costume, which involves two extra sets of legs connected to gloves, so all the legs move when she moves her hands.  Slays me.  So freakin' cute.

So Minh and family may now stop reading.  The rest is about wool.

Kepler proceeds apace.  I'm starting to enjoy it.  Sorry, no pics yet, not much to see, just a bunch of stockinette.

I've been navajo plying the fiber I got at Foxfire Fiber, and I've learned a few things, the hard way.

1. Softly-spun long-draw singles and navajo plying don't really go together.  Navajo plying needs a pretty firmly spun singles to keep from BREAKING.  You know, over and over again.  Rhys, sitting innocently enough next to me on the couch, finally said "what is WRONG?"  It was one of those moments, when, teeth gritted, you growl, "yes-I-do-this-to-relax-what's-it-to-ya."  Lesson learned.  Okay, maybe lesson learned for the next bobbin, since I seem to have forgotten it halfway through the second one.

2. If you get the tension just right, it's almost effortless.  Until 1. happens again.  You want it to just sort of feed in gently as you pull out the loops.

3. Slow down.  I needed to navajo ply on a slower ratio than I did the singles or what I usually use to ply.  Keep that loop open and don't let it get ahead of you.  As (I think) Alden Amos says, few problems in spinning can be corrected by treadling faster.  Words to live by.  Now to remember those words when I'm actually at the wheel.

That's left to right in the order plied.  Kind of a sad thing to do to such nice fiber, but I decided barber-poling was worse.  Hopefully all will be redeemed in the knitting.  Maybe a hat, with the cashmere/silk as a cabled band?  Hmm.

So, speaking of nice fiber, I think I mentioned that Deanna and I split a CVM/Romeldale fleece at Rhinebeck and that she gave me my half at the Twist.  I washed some of it and decided to try out my new combs.

And also:

(Yes, Shrek slippers.  Henry adores them.)

Resulting in:

And this:

So soft. So silky.  Ahhhhh.  I just want to stay home and comb and spin.  What's this whole "making a living" thing about, anyway?

Off to bed.  I'll be picking up Miss Henny Penny from her trip to Dave Paul's wheel-spa tomorrow at an intermediate point, kids and friend in tow.  Later gators.

Hi, My Name is Cate and I'm a Woolaholic.

This is the first step.  I'm not saying I'm going into wool recovery or anything, but I am accepting that my addiction has made life unmanageable.  It may have something to do with the sudden disappearance of the many codependent forces in my life.  My partner on a week-long business trip.  Wendy, who (attempts to) clean our house, going away to Hawaii for three weeks.  The confluence of a relatively healthy bank account and two fiber festivals in as many weeks and a moth attack on one Rubbermaid container that made me think I didn't have enough wool.  A cold that won't go away.  Suddenly the wool that is coming out of every corner of my tiny house seems, well, slightly insane.  Unreasonable.  Out of control?

I washed a three-pound silver Romney fleece yesterday.  I've had a problem drying fleece; it sits outside for days, getting dewy every morning, and never completely drying on my incredibly shady property (we can grow little besides moss and hostas; satellite views of our house show only treetops).  So I had this idea of putting it in a huge mesh bag, washing it in the bathtub, and then drying it, in the bag, perched on a sweater rack in my dryer.

My bulk fleece-washing method.

It got a little felted.  Not completely, and not at all beyond repair, but not what I was going for.  Must retool.  I actually checked it before it went into the dryer, and it turns out the dryer wasn't the problem--I think it might have been the washing in the bag.  Perhaps loose in the tub is the answer.  Anyway, advice is welcome.  But my point, and I do have one, is that I think I have lost the plot here with this idea of bulk fleece washing.

I say this because I sat back yesterday and thought to myself, "self, what the fuck are you on about?"  I mean, BULK?  FLEECE?  WASHING?  I have no illusions that I am going to chuck academic research for a career in production spinning, despite the deceptive appeal of the idea.  I can buy a lovely machine-spun, machine-knit sweater in any of a million places right now.  There is no room for bulk and fleece in the same sentence.  I should know better.

My fiber obsession, far from making me faster, more efficient, and more effective, has brought me to increasingly slower ways of creating things over the years.   

I started out spinning roving and then realized how much I like working with fleeces.  Drum carding?  Sure, but my Alvin Ramer combs arrived last night (Walnut.  Signed and Dated.  A treasure, to be sure.), and how much slower can you really get than hand-combing from raw fleece?  So in what way is bulk washing a part of this equation?

In my defense, I’m concerned about another moth attack, and I’ve sworn to myself that I will never again store unscoured wool.  But in this context, two and a half fleeces was probably a bad idea.  I did laundry, tons of it, yesterday, and I chased children and argued with pharmacists (Express Scripts=Evil), and cleaned the kitchen and then cooked in it and cleaned it again and bathed children and enforced cleanup and finally just did it myself.  My body didn’t really need the wool schlepping and the tub scrubbing that followed, but I did it anyway, and I recognize that that it’s not exactly fostering balance in my life.

But everywhere I look I’m faced with silver-gray Romneys and rare variegated Romeldales and impossibly beautiful Cormos from just beside the Mass. Pike and small musket Shetlands that mystically hold their history and heritage inside fiber and lanolin. And then there are things that other people have carded and dyed to utter perfection and the chance that I could card and dye to my own idea of perfection.  Mostly, there is the potential for lace shawls and cabled cardigan vests and scarves made of tiny silk leaves and that feeling I got when I finished Hyrna.  There’s just too much, too much to feed the imagination, had we but world enough, and time.

I am all big dreams and small progress, as I inch closer to the very sheep who started it all.  They say that acknowledging the problem is the first step toward change, but I’m not sure what change I need.  Wool is an antidote to the frenzy in my life, but I think I’m letting the frenzy get to the wool, and that’s what I need to fix.  Or maybe I’m just casting about for some wool that knows what it wants to be, looking for that perfect high.  If I keep spinning, if I keep washing and carding and combing and reading and poring over pattern books, maybe I’ll find it.  If I do, I'll let you know.

Promise.

(Random Wednesday will return on Thursday.  Or maybe Saturday.  I mean, random, right?)

By Particular Request

There was a particular request for wool p0rn.

The fleece is not washed yet (some of it is in the suds now and some of it is drying), so it's not the loveliest look, unless you're fond of sheep shit.  But this will give you a sense of the color.

Mock me if you must.  I'm going to comb it so I doubt I'll have enough for a sweater when I'm done.  And will I get another fleece at Rhinebeck?  Probably. 

Shut up.

The Week in Review

I'm back, and we seem to have survived the experience, though some of us only barely.  I managed to do reasonably well with the giant family reunion, including the following highlights:

• Knitting hysterically, yet pointlessly, on my still-unfinished birch shawl in hopes of wearing it to the party, even though Kim told me hers was only moderately loosely knit and still she ran out of yarn.  Despite the fact that I went down two needle sizes, mine is really loose.  I'm not out yet, but I can see it's inevitable.  That's when I gave up.  Well, also we had to leave for the party.  My Diamond Fantasy Shawl made an appearance instead.  It's sad when a handspun lace shawl starts feeling like a schmata.  I need to reblock it.  I can practically tie the ends in a bow, they're so stretched out.
• The wild guest chase, in which guests are directed to arrive at a remote cabin down a steep dirt road with very limited parking, at which point we, the younger generation, are told to send them to a different remote location down another dirt road several miles away, which involves making a 42-point turn and probably hitting the porch in the process of getting out of the already-full driveway.  At the other remote location they will be served cocktails, in preparation to go into town to search for parking and get on a boat and be served....cocktails.  It should be clear that the cocktail logic is the only part of this setup that is entirely sound.
• Experiencing the Joy of Cousins, in which Henry and Eleanor idolize and worship their older cousins, while attempting to stage a WWF event with their younger cousin, and generally having one of those normal, healthy, fabulous extended family experiences where everyone is together and the majority of people are Not Drunk (okay, when the children are awake), and you know, they're family.  This is a foreign concept to this only child adult child of adult children of alcoholics.  I think this is what they're talking about when they say "creating memories."  Who knew?  Someday they'll be the ones telling dirty jokes out on the porch while we drive them crazy with overcomplicated travel plans and gigantic family parties.  I can't freakin' wait.
• Being asked, in all seriousness, if Henry can have "something to stand on so I can get jiggy."  When I suggested he get jiggy while standing on the floor, he informed me that this was not an acceptable solution.  Clearly, my extreme non-coolness has already begun.
• Upon relating this story, being given the suggestion by cousin Sean (I just know this guy has a blog--I just have to find it.  He's, I don't know, I can just tell) that perhaps Henry's new nickname should be h. diddy.  I admit I agreed, but Henry vetoed it out of hand.
• Eleanor looking WAY, WAY too grown up, first in the car while talking on the cell phone, and second while wearing a SHRUG to the party.  I know.  I had nothing to do with it.  She loves it.  She even wore it to bed one night.  Photos below.
• On the same theme, watching my kids grow up BEFORE MY EYES, with Eleanor giving me long and complex explanations of every play scenario and situation.  Why, why, oh, why does it go from these completely civilized moments to people whacking each other and throwing themselves on the ground because the color of their cup is wrong?  I know, it's growing pains, but I can see the age of civilization off in the misty distance, but we have to climb the mountain  of THREE-AND-A-HALF first and sometimes...it is steep.
• Experiencing the actual party, which I actually enjoyed heartily (Eleanor piped up when I mentioned this at dinner tonight "yes, I did too"--this was just before she laughed hysterically at Henry saying "poopyhead").  I was sure to take the recommended dose of gin & tonic just as the party began, and was fully prepared for what came.
• Having two (out of a grand total of two) cars have major problems necessitating immediate repair this week, including Rhys' car's brakes going out as I went over a mountain last weekend, and my car breaking down on Rhys an hour away from the dealership, the only place that could fix this problem.  We worked it all out with a surprising minimum of difficulty, and everyone is home safe and sound.
• Finally, a trip to Patternworks, at which I shot my wad, then a wee trip into the yarn store by the market, at which I was forced to buy yarn for sweaters for both children, and finally dropping by The Fiber Studio on my way home , and being followed home by some mooritt NZ wool, maybe a corrie cross.

Sick of listening to me babble?  Me too.  Here are pictures:

Eleanor, 3 going on 16.

Henry putting the finishing touches on his first real lego creation.  I look forward to years of stepping on lego pieces with bare feet in the dark.  I suspect this is how most children learn curse words.

"No, duck, come back here!  I SPECIFICALLY came out here to play with you!  You were sitting on the dock and when I came to play, you left!  What's that about?  C'mon!  C'mon back!"  I think he almost convinced the duck.  Almost.

When in Rome, you know.  The kids ordered their own Shirley Temples at the bar.  My BIL got me the G&T.  Everybody's happy.  Note the fashion statements.  Henry got his charming cowboy hat (doffed, since I insisted that he always look up and if there was a roof, take it off) from his cousin in Wyoming.

"H. Diddy?  I think not.  Call me Hank."

"Jiggy?  Why, yes, I think I will get jiggy."  Note the handmade bracelet created and gifted by almost-six-year-old Wyoming cousin.  Will. Never. Be. Taken. Off.

Fiber?  Why yes, I believe I did mention Patternworks, home of the Wall o' Koigu.  Let's peek in the bag.

Is there a 12-step program for this?  Yeah, I know about this, but I mean one that won't just make it worse?  Like any morning after, I'm too  ashamed to show you more.  Let's just say I have a lot of socks in my future.

My debauchery also included fleece, when the "by chance" Sunday hours at The Fiber Studio actually turned out to be happening.  I don't know about you, but despite living near many fiber farms, I don't just get to pick up a raw fleece at the corner store.  Luckily, this was only a pound of raw fleece, the mooritt corrie(?) cross from NZ.  The label just said "mooritt," and the owner didn't have details.  Still, I came right home and washed my little heart out, and now I have nice clean fiber.

I'm still pretty lame at identifying a wool breed by sight, so tell me if you think it's something else.  I thought maybe Romney, but it's too soft and short based on the pics in In Sheep's Clothing, but who knows, maybe a lamb fleece?  I am now desperate for a set of English combs, and I don't think I can wait to order from Canada.  Any objections to the Indigo Hound Five Pitch combs, which can get here in time for my fiber orgy family vacation with Sara?  Speak now, or forever...oh, I don't know.  I do wish I didn't have such a good ear for what wool is saying to me.  This wool refuses to be carded, drum or hand.  It might consent to flick carding, but only under protest.  Yes, the wool's imaginary voice is bossing me around.  What's your point?  I may also be picking up a few icelandic lamb fleeces for Sara (really, they're for Sara, swear--I might buy a few ounces from her...you know, to help out) from Barbara at Jager Farm this week.  But it doesn't really happen *all* that often.  And I'm just being helpful.  Aren't I a good friend?  I know.

Finally, HEN is settling into her new home. 

I think she's happy, and who wouldn't be?  She's starting out with cormo/silk roving from Alice Field.

Marcy has officially decided that the wheel's name is Hróðþjóð Eðný Niðbjörg, but consents to Henny Penny "for the sake of the children."  The fact that neither one of us wants to even attempt to pronounce that has nothing to do with it.

Work remains insane, and I'm only telling you this to apologize for the brain dump here, and to apologize in advance for infrequent blogging.  I'm hoping that Sara and I will be doing some remote blogging from vacation next week (and not too much remote working, sigh), and I am very far behind on blog reading.  I remain optimistic that the fever pitch will tone down at some point.

Nighty night.