All Wound Up

I'm pleased to (finally) announce that the supplemental KAL yarn is on its way to those patient Gentle Readers who need it.  During the course of the skein-winding, I MacGyvered my winder:

This is about the simplest (cheapest) skeinwinder you can get, and I purchased it long ago, before I knew that I would be doing so much yardage measurement of (that's counting, and NUMBERS, if you know what I mean).  So when it came time to wind up hundreds and hundreds of little skeins for the knitalong, I realized it was time to trick out the winder with a counting mechanism.  I found it HERE, and you can, too.  Esoteric consumer electronics, anyone?

I realized eventually that rather than raising the winding mechanism to clear the sensor (which threw off the balance of the winder really badly), I needed to recess the sensor, instead.  Fortunately my last flooring adventure (don't ask) required the acquisition of a chisel set, which I happily put to use.  Damn nice of those Ashford people to make my cheap skeinwinder out of wood, by the way, so that I could do this.  Turns out wood chiselling is kinda fun.

Once the sensor and counter were in place on the base, I mounted the magnet (included with the counter kit) onto the back of one of the winder's arms.  And it didn't work at all.  Recessing the sensor put too much space between it and the magnet to activate the counter.  I added a little wood block under the magnet, to reduce that distance.  It worked!

So now as I wind a skein, the little magnet passes the sensor each time around, and the counter keeps track of how many winds.  Sassy, no?  I love it when a plan comes together. The fact that I needed to wind a million little skeins of yarn, and that it required woodworking to do so, surprises me not a whit.  Just one more service we provide.

 

Dye, Dye Again

I have success to report:

I took another crack at trying to get my skeins the same color.  I don't know why I couldn't just give up on it, but it just got personal, you know?  The great thing about tenacity is that it always yields conclusion.  Not necessarily the one you think you want, but there will be closure of some sort if you refuse to give up.

And no, the two groups are still not perfectly matched, but I have pronounced them close enough to fake it.  I'll alternate rows or something when I knit it.  And this is a way better color than it was to start with.

Lest you think that I have abandoned my KAL yarn fulfilment process to play with recycled sweaters; Fear Not - I give you the following News Flash:

If you live outside the United States, Your supplemental KAL yarn was mailed yesterday, via USPS.

If you live in the USA, in a state not located on the West Coast, your yarn will be mailed today.

If you live in the USA, in Oregon, Washington or California, Your yarn will be mailed tomorrow.

And if you picked up your yarn personally at Knit Night here in Portland, see me tonight - I'll bring the string!

Thank you for hanging in there with me, my knitalong friends - perseverance shall prevail!
 

Big Fat Hairy Surprise

Every single ball of yarn I have ever seen, purchased, oogled, or heard of has a band, tag or other packaging.  The sole job of that ball band (other than to remind me who made it) is to remind me of one simple fact:  Dye Lots Vary.  Like Gravity, this is not just a good idea; it's a LAW.  Its truth is verifiable and incontrovertible.  Not Kidding:  If you get one skein of yarn from one pot of dye, and another from a different pot of dye, even if they are allegedly the same color, the hue of the two skeins WILL differ.  Mathematically certain.  Everyone, from the most experienced yarn dyers in the world (some of whom, I actually even know), to my neighbor's cat, understands this unyielding law of the universe. 

So of course, I figured it didn't really apply to me, personally.

It all started when my friend gave me this sorry, bedraggled old sweater.  She had rescued it from a thrift store, where she'd found it languishing, with a big hole right in its chest.  Recognizing its handknit wool yarn as an authentic Aran tweed, she couldn't leave it there, unloved.  Time passed, though, and she never quite got around to frogging the poor thing out of its misery.  So she offered it to me, as a possible rehab project.  It was really a specimen that only a mother could love, but something told me the poor old beast deserved my attention.  I decided that if I couldn't help it to be reborn, I would at least give it a decent burial.  So frog it, I did:

Another pal of mine sat with me, patiently picking out its seams, while I pulled out all 1,560 yards of cables and moss.  Pretty satisfying, actually.  Funny how easy it is to gut a sweater that's not your knitting.  And once it was washed, it leapt back to life, as all great yarn will, ready for its reincarnation.

News to nobody: I'm not a fan of earth tones.  This Butterscotch, or Toffee Beige, or whatever 1970s back-to-nature slice of hell you wanna call it, was not my idea of the color it should remain.  Not to worry, I thought, I own a dyepot!

And it's true.  I do.  A dyepot of ample size to tint, say, 700 yards of yarn at once.  Not 1560.  Let me reiterate:  I KNOW BETTER than to attempt what I did next.  The only explanation is that I found the perfect pattern for this yarn while it was drying after its bath, and the resulting fit of Start-its clouded my judgement.  Yeah, let's go with that. 

I decided to dye it in two (2) batches.

I was SO precise!  I was SO careful!  I measured.  I timed.  I was clinical in my obsessive concern to treat both batches of yarn EXACTLY the same.

Dumbass.

Yep.  Two completely different colors.  Both lovely, and neither one enough to make that perfect sweater pattern I now have my heart set upon.

So I'm gonna knock on the door of a friend of mine who has BIG dyepots, as soon as I can get up the nerve to admit to my foolhardy ways.  I'm lucky to have some friends that are both smarter, and better-equipped than I am.  I'm hoping they will know the right sort of magic for this situation.

And in the meantime, I'm taking comfort in this undisputable fact:  There are things in this world upon which we can absolutely count:  Babies are born.  The Tax Man gets paid.  Politicians and gauge swatches lie.  And in case you ever wondered (though I know you never did) I've proven it once and for all:  Dye Lots Vary.  Duh.