Dye Job

I do not now, nor have I ever, claimed to be a seasoned professional in the art/science of the dye pot. 

What I am is a cheapskate in need of a bag in which to stick my new spinning wheel so that I can take it to class.  Having blown invested several months' worth of the fiber budget on a new spinning wheel, it's going to be a while before I can afford a "real" (i.e., made by someone other than myself) spinning wheel bag.  I'm fairly industrious, though, and have decided to give a whirl to making my own. 

I'm starting off with a vintage wool blanket which was donated to the cause by my mom.  The cream-colored blanket was felted long ago by some hapless sort (not Mom, for the record - she's a great respecter of wool) and is now roughly 1/2" thick.  Perfect, thought I, to cushion the wee Wheely from bumps and bruises when I drag her to the Black Sheep Gathering next month.  Except that a cream-colored bag fits neither my fancy, nor the black zipper and straps I have to install on it.  So to the dye pot I sent the pieces of my soon-to-be bag.  I was going for a deep shade of Turkey Red.  What I got was neither deep nor red.  I'd call Strawberry-Rhubarb, at best.  A closeup:
 

Lofty, fluffy, soft and cushion-y.  Just not red.  I do not yet admit defeat:  Rome was not built in a day, so neither will my Budget-Friendly Repurposed Blanket Spinning Wheel Bag (BFRBSW) be. 

Assault 2 on the BFRBSW will utilize Kool-Aid, and plenty of it.  No more Mr. Nice-Guy Fabric Store dye.  No Siree.  I'm declaring war on pink, and I'm willing to accept casualties.  

This is surely one of those situations where time and perseverance can be a replacement for money and skill. 

Surely.

I'll report back after the second attempt.

R and R

The Smallies and I seized the three-day weekend to drive North for a long-overdue family visit.  Phillip stayed home to write a paper for Grad School.  We missed him, but he got a lot done in the thunderous quiet of our absence. 

The weather was extraordinary, which resulted in barbecues, bonfires, stargazing and tent-sleeping.

And I knitted.

Liberty Hill, Whidbey Island, WA

My sister and I planted flowers around the base of the new flagpole.

And I knitted.

Monica modelled her new purse, seated on her motorcycle

The Dreadful Damsels Motorcycle Club (that would be me, my sister Susie, and our sister-in-law Monica.  We're an extremely tough motorcycle gang) took its first ride of the season.  Where did we go?  To a shoe sale, naturally.  We may be tough, but we're not savages.  Then to the grocery for chips and beer (the 2 food groups), where several nice gentlemen admired our motorcycles, and tried not to look jealous.

After that, I knitted.

Mom humors me by smiling for a photo

My mom loved her Mothers' Day hat, both for its looks, and its fire-retardant qualities.  She suggested that I try spinning asbestos next.

Then I knitted.

What Smallies (and their cousins) do for fun in the country

Our visit culminated in a celebratory tractor-ride for the Smallies, which ended just in time for us to catch the ferry for home.  During the ferry ride, I knitted.

One of the best things about being away from home is getting to return to it.  Phillip had done no small amount of housework while we were out from underfoot.  Either he really missed us, or he badly wanted to do something other than work on his paper.  Either way, I'm happy.

And today it's re-entry.  Back to the trenches.  The rest and family time really revived me.  It seems like Summer is finally on its way, and I'm looking forward to what's next.  

I hope the rest of you fared better than I did in the bloodbath that was Sock Summit registration today.  I did get one of the seven classes that had been on my wish list, so I dare not snivel.  I know there are many (some who already had plane tickets, even) who weren't as lucky.  Take heart, would-be Summit-eers:  We didn't even know we have been in with the Cool Kids all this time.  If a bunch of knitters can create that much chaos in that short a time, world domination can't be far away.

Cloche Call

At long last, the Mother's Day hat is ready to go.  I found these buttons at the Knit and Crochet show; they are new glass made from antique (circa WW II) glass molds in the Czech Republic.  I think they have just the right something.  Sparkly but organic.  They remind me of the Depression Glass my mom collects. 

The observant among you will note that the Blue Faced Leicester cable yarn is a decidedly different shade from the Corriedale crown and rib yarn.  This is probably mostly due to the Scorching Incident (if you look closely, you can see the darker spots where the skein combusted a wee bit), but I have decided to like the subtle difference in color.  I once worked for a designer who never made anything in white - only layers of different shades of cream.  He said that one flat hue always looked dead to his eye, and he preferred the depth and texture of combining several different shades in layers.  He later went on to make my wedding gown, whose tulle skirt had no less than eight layers of fabric, no two the same shade of ivory.  He was right.  Variation is always more interesting.

This project represents several firsts:  My first handspun yarn, my first kitchen fire, my first hat with buttons.  Here's another:

My first self-portrait.  And yes, it was hard to do.