More String

In which I ignore perfectly sound advice. 

My pal Carson said "You won't like spinning that.  It's for needle felting".  He was perfectly correct.  I would probably not like spinning, or wearing an entire sweater made of this fluff.  But it's put up in these adorable little knots of roving that are every different color!  How could I resist?  So I made a bunch of cute little 2-ply skeins, and when I'm done there will be twelve different colors of yarn to play with!

And in case that wasn't enough fun, check out my e-bay score:

These are the coolest old textile mill bobbins.  They are marked "Gull Silk Co." on the end, and needed only a bath in oil soap to be ready for action.  What a fun way to store my tiny skeins!  I searched for "antique wooden spools" on e-bay, in case you would like to do the same.  So other than an unscheduled break to redecorate my daughter's room (yeah, I know - how is there an unscheduled redecoration?), I've just been sitting around,playing with string. 

The room redecoration began with an innocent attempt to change the sheets on Lindsay's bed, which caused the bed to actually fall apart.  In Pieces.  So it became obvious that she was ready to have the more sturdy (and larger) antique iron bed moved up from the garage.  And while we were between beds and the whole place was in chaos anyway, I thought I might as well paint her room, which I'd been blowing off meaning to attend to for the entire four years we've lived here.  Which led to a whole new set of bed linens, and well, you know how it goes.  All I wanted to do was change the damn sheets and the next thing you know I'm hanging off a ladder replacing a light fixture.  Go Figure. 

Remember when I used to knit things?  Me either.
 

Bed of Roses

Once upon a time, I bought a bunch of my favorite yarn on sale.  This was not an unusual occurrence, except that the yarn in question was not only my favorite kind, it was also an extremely unfortunate color:

And by "unfortunate", I mean so ugly as to cause Scottish Terriers to fall instantly asleep to avoid looking at it.  Don't get me wrong: I'm no pink-hater.  I like a good pink better than the next guy, and I will go to some fairly respectable lengths of denial to include pink in my stash, especially when it's on sale.  But I just couldn't find a permanent place in my heart for seven skeins of Pepto Bubble Gum.

I shut my eyes and held on to the seven skeins of Pepto, knowing that one day a pattern would come along which called for my favorite yarn, and probably on a day when I lacked the wherewithal to dash out and buy anything new. 

Sure enough, I revisited a pattern-in-waiting this morning by happenstance, and was consumed by the urge to cast on for it immediately.  Being a confirmed cheapass responsible guardian of fiscal resources, I remembered the poor little skeins of Pepto, waiting patiently in the stash.  The color was even worse than I recalled, but it only encouraged me to press on with my Cunning Plan.

Real knitters know that acid-based dyes are the best way to go for changing the color of woolen string.  I even have plans to get me summa that one day, when I grow up.  But today is not that day (tomorrow is not looking good, either), so I headed straight to the Kool-Aid aisle in the discount store across the street from the dentist where my kids were in adjoining recliners this morning.  For reasons defying all explanation, K Mart was all out of Kool-Aid today, except for Lemonade, which would not have been much help to my Pepto Gum yarn.  Unphased, I grabbed some Rit, reasoning that a complete disaster with it would still not be worse than the color I was starting with.

Since the whole pursuit had "Knitting Gods, Smite Here" written all over it, I decided to go for broke and try kettle dyeing for the first time, while I was at it.

The result?  Even knitters have to catch a break now and then, even if it's only a game of odds: 

The unfortunate Pepto Bubble is magically transformed to a Bed of Roses.  And how smug am I that I held on to that poor pink yarn?  Little bit. 

Lesson?  Ugly Yarn + Cheap Dye + Pressing Need to Cast On = Acts of desperation where three wrongs can make a right.

Cover me: I'm going in...

 

Straighten Up and Ply Right

True, I am exposed to more yarn fumes than most people (thank you, Universe), but lately I've been thinking that I need to spend more time spinning.  Or it could be the change of seasons inching toward this hemisphere - I made the same proclamation this time last year.  Getting to spend the whole day in class with Kathryn Alexander probably had more to do with it than anything. 

I realized when I sat down to spin that I have been working exclusively on Caora Dubh for so long that I have nearly forgotten how to do anything except spin from the lock.  Roving totally flummoxed me.  I did eventually remember what to do, but not before I thought to myself:  "Gee, you really need more practice".   So, in the interest of becoming a better spinner (and by extension, a better knitter), I did a little fiber diving in the stash basket (can you believe that my fiber stash is still only one basket?  Okay, it might be overflowing a little).  I came up with a gorgeous bit of fluff I was given in class at Black Sheep Gathering last year.  It's double-coated shetland which was hand-painted and then combed into top by Judith McKenzie McCuin.  I liked the two plies I came up with so much that I took it into my head to try for my first "Art" yarn.  I think it turned out more like "Frank" yarn.  As my mother says, Not everything you do can be a great success.  Meet Frank:

I plied it with crochet cotton, and a strand of mylar embroidery thread.  And what have we learned, Dorothy? 

1.  Crochet cotton is kinda cool to ply with because it is plied in the same direction (Z) that my singles were spun.  Plying them all the other direction (S), worked out just fine.

2.  Crochet cotton comes in a limited color range, particularly if you only have time and inclination to hit one national chain fabric store to get it.  But if you get lucky, the sort of flat color can have an interesting and unifying effect on hand-painted roving.

3.  Mylar thread, however tantalizing and sparkly it may seem, is a pain in the ass. 
    3a.    One strand will all but completely disappear between two plies of wool and one of crochet cotton.
    3b.    Plying another strand of mylar thread on top of the other four strands will have four outcomes:
            3b.1    The previous four strands will be over-plied.  DUH.
            3b.2    The second strand of mylar thread will in no way attach itself cohesively to the now over-plied previous four strands, resulting ghastly loops of loose mylar thread.
            3b.3    Too much mylar in your yarn will cross the line between Delicately Glittery and Vegas Showgirl, without ever looking back.  And it feels like sandpaper cat litter.
            3b.4    The Knitter-Wanna-Be Spinner will resolve to stop spinning and start looking for beer.

Once I had removed myself from the situation (good thing we keep the beer in a whole different room), I was able to calmly determine my course of action (and here is where the yarn fumes are obviously at work):

Plan A:    UN-Ply the second strand of mylar thread from 300 yards of finished yarn.

Plan B:    Throw away the whole wretched mess and resolve that "Art" yarn is for pretentious show-off spinners anyway.

I know what you are going to say:  Better to waste yarn than time and sanity.  Better to drink beer than, well, a whole bunch of things.  Better to learn your lessons and move on.  And you will be right. 

So where the hell were you, Gentle Readers, when I resolved that Plan A would be the way to go?  You people know by now that I require constant supervision.  Or Intervention.

Plan A was an absolute nightmare, whose net results were a headache, 300 yards of mediocre "Frank" yarn, and a resolution never to Un-Ply.  Anything.  Again.  Ever.

Class Dismissed. 

Spinning Gods = 1, Wanna-Be Spinner = -1.