Caora Dubh (Black Sheep) Update #1

"Oh," Lindsay said, "I see you've dragged out your pet sheep again."  Yes. Yes I have.  But look at her!  

Notice anything different?  In the upper left corner of this shot, you can tell:  Some of her is missing.  By which you can tell I am making progress in processing and spinning the wee beastie.  That missing area amounts to just about 1 full bobbin of worsted-spun laceweight singles.  I'm shooting for 5-ply, so there's a whole lotta spinning still to do.  And, by the looks of it, a whole lotta washing, too. 

Here's what I do:  Pull off individual locks from the fleece.  I take about 40 locks, and keeping them intact, place them in these little mesh zipper bags.  These are actually packing cubes that I bought for a trip abroad once.  Each holds just the right number of locks for me to scour, comb and spin at a sitting.  It takes me about an hour and a half to do a bag, and 8 bags = 1 bobbin.  

Here's what the locks look like after washing, but before combing:

So now if you are wondering what ever happend to my big fat plan for spinning a whole fleece, you have the answer.  I'm eating an iceberg, one snow cone at at time.

Next time: Singles!

 

Of Bikes, Babes, and The Platters

Mildred:    What are you rebelling against, Johnny?
Johnny:     Whaddya got?

Marlon Brando as Johnny in "The Wild One" (1953)

Johnny understood.  There are times when you just have to bust out and do something for the sake of doing it.  My sisters and I went on a motorcycle ride this weekend.  And by that I mean that the three of us got on our faithful steeds and headed for the hills.  We have the shiniest bikes.  We have the tallest boots.  We have attitude coming out of every pore.  And when we get where we are going, we pull into a parking space up front, in perfect formation.  Everywhere we go, people want to talk to us, and ask about our bikes, where we're going, and where we've been.  So we tell them.  And we make new friends, and we hope that we inspire others, especially other women, to enjoy riding too.

We didn't ride far, and we didn't ride long.  We did see a beautiful sunset though, and we heard some great music that we had forgotten how much we love.

Twilight Time, by The Platters, circa 1958

And after all that we checked into a hotel with smooth sheets, where we slept like dead people.  Then there was breakfast, and coffee, and the promise of whatever is next.  When I am with my motorcycle gang, there is nothing we can't do.  And there is nothing we face alone.  Potholes and speed traps and a bee in your helmet.  None are as scary with the other Dreadful Damsels there.

Believe me when I tell you that bikers are just like knitters:  A little bit misunderstood, a little bit rebellious, and a whole lotta caring.  The only thing better than being a loner is running with a pack of other loners who understand you.

Just one thing, though;  When you and your biker sisters make that big entrance at your destination, you power down those big growling machines, and shake your hairstyles free of your helmets; when you swing your big leather boots over the saddle and begin your swagger across the parking lot;

Try to avoid having balls of yarn fall out of the pockets of your leather jacket.  It may tend to undermine your glamor.
 

It's Like Deja-Vu All Over Again

Here is the beginning of Faery Ring, Part Deux.  It's a birthday present, whose completion is slated for August 16; a goal whose optimism defies all reason, and most logic.  Still, Hope springs eternal, no?  Wouldn't be the first time I gave someone a box of  unfinished sweater pieces for a gift.  For that matter, I have also been the happy recipient of such boxes, too.  Just how we roll in my family, I guess.

This week has been a serious meat-grinder, work wise.  I managed to miss a publication deadline, not because the project was off track, but because I failed to change the page on my calendar, of all things.  The deadline that I had firmly planted in my consciousness of 07-09, turned out to be 07-06, instead.  So while I totally met my goal, the magazine editor had different ideas about when my project should have arrived.  Oops.  That sucked.  A lot.

My day job has also begun to more closely resemble the seventh circle of hell.  Co-workers on vacay = more for me to do.  Again with the "only so many hours in the day" problem.  I actually dreamed last night that I quit my day job to become a stripper.  I was the Gypsy-Rose-Lee-Burlesque kind of stripper, with long satin gloves and a bustier.  It was great, too, because I only worked on Friday nights, and I made all the money I could spend.  Funny that my subconscious has decided that life as a stripper is less debasing and humiliating than my current occupation.  Makes me wonder...

I've been beating back the suspicion that my knitting is burning me out.  And by beating back, I mean completely denying it.  I only realized this when I finished the on-time-but-still-late-anyway project, and happily turned to the Faery Ring.  I have been promising myself that I would give it the attention it so richly deserves as soon as this other thing was done.  But when it finally was time to relax into its fleecy embrace, I found I couldn't fully succumb to its many charms.  My mind kept wandering off into other territories, and I began to ask myself what was really going on.

Now, those who know me well will nod appreciatively when I tell you that I don't like repetition.  I am the woman who will drive an hour out of my way to avoid going down the same street as yesterday.  If I could afford it, all my bedsheets, automobiles and shoes would be disposable.  I just get sick of things being always the same.  So it was with considerable shock that I realized that the Faery Ring Part Deux is no less than the FOURTH project in a row that I am making more than once.  That's right: "Sommelier" = two different versions of the same pattern.  "Desert Rain" = made a second sample so I could model one while the other was on display. "Juliette" (you'll see it this winter)= dye lot problem and failed overdye attempt resulted in a complete reknit.  "Faery Ring"= well, granted, I finished the original in January, but it's still a repeat project.  No wonder I'm going batshit.  I can't believe all these do-overs.  It's completely unprecedented, and way bizarre.  The Knitting Gods are clearly toying with me.  How sad is it to make FOUR projects twice before noticing that you are repeating stuff? 

I'm going for a motorcycle ride. Preferably on a road I've never seen before.