annie o.

secret project

I had to stop spinning the other day to do some work on a new project -- still in the super-secret phase, but with luck I'll be able to talk about it at some point.  Even though I put them off until the very last minute, I really love projects with deadlines, and I feel very accomplished when they're done.  Which this one is.  So I'm back to spinning my fiber-of-the-month:  Wensleydale.  It's a longwool, and reminds me a lot of mohair.  I'm experimenting with lace-weight singles, and am hoping to get enough yardage out of 4 ounces to make a lightweight shawl.  I recently came across the book Victorian Lace Today, which contains many projects I'd like to try.  Instead of running out to Borders, I actually put a hold on it at the library, figuring that it will come in at just about the time I finish these fine singles.  Maybe Monday.

snowy day

Here's what it looked like out my bedroom window this morning.  Not a lot of snow, but just enough, and just cold enough, to make it a perfect day to stay inside, doing this and that, and admiring . . .

my fractal spun, two-ply Istanbul Sunset.  I'm not sure I can see the slow/fast color changes, but there does seem to be every combination of colors, and it's the softest, squooshiest yarn you can imagine.  One member of the family was particularly interested in the fractal spinning technique.

How do you do this, anyway?

You need thumbs?  Seriously? 

Forget it, then.

istanbul sunset

This gorgeous stuff is the November fiber from Spunky Eclectic Club, the fiber-of-the-month club that's behind my recent spinning addiction.  I've been on a navajo plying kick and wanted to try something different.  It's really easy in spinning to get into a "comfort zone" where you spin the same size yarn, ply it in the same way, etc.  When this happens, it becomes difficult to do anything else.  So, in an attempt to shake things up, I decided to try fractal spinning.

I started by splitting the roving in half lenthwise.  I spun the fisrt half "as is" resulting a singles yarn with long, slow color changes (the right hand bobbin in the photo below).  I divided the other half  into 5 or 6 thin strips before spinning, and ended up with singles showing much more frequent color changes (the left hand bobbin).  The next step is to ply the two together.  The finished yarn will have one ply with rapidly changing colors against a second ply with slowly changing colors.  Can't wait to see how this comes out!

liesl, take 2

Now that the purple Liesl is finished and on its way to Seattle (I keep tracking it on the USPS web site -- it should arrive today!), I've resumed work on my original Liesl, the one I'm knitting with my merino/bamboo handspun from Spunky Eclectic.  I had a hard time figuring out what to do with this yarn.  I spun it over a period of about 2 months and, after I had finished it, discovered that my spinning was wildly inconsistent.  Some areas are worsted to heavy worsted weight and others are verging on sock yarn.  I was tempted to shove the whole thing in the bottom of a drawer, but I had worked too hard on it for that.  So I started a clapotis.  Big mistake.  The areas of stockinette stitch really showcased my bad spinning.  Plus which, I didn't have enough yarn.  So I ripped it out and cast on a Liesl.  So far, this is working out better.  The lace stitch effectively hides the thick and thin spots in the yarn.  And if I run out, well, it will just be a cap sleeve sweater.  Or a cap sleeve bolero. 

This experience taught me the value of a "spinner's control card", a handy device to help keep your spinning even.  Now, when I'm happy with a single I've spun, I break off about 10 inches, wrap it several times around an index card and secure it with tape.  Then, I periodically compare what I'm spinning with my ideal control yarn.  It really seems to help.

Now, back to work.

my liesl

Every so often, there seems to be a pattern that everyone is knitting.  A few years ago it was clapotis, a knit-on-the-bias shawl with columns of dropped stitches.  This year, one of the "it" patterns is Liesl, a chunky knit, feather and fan stitch cardigan.   After browsing through the eight zillion Liesls featured in the project gallery on Ravelry, I decided it would be a good pattern for some merino/bamboo handspun I had just finished.  A few inches into the project, it struck me that Liesl would make a great Christmas sweater for my mother -- but it needed to be something she could throw in the washing machine.  So I put aside the handspun, headed to Michael's, and for a mere $10 scored 4 balls of Vanna's Choice acrylic in a lovely soft purple.

Liesl was, as promised, super quick to knit.  I added garter stitch borders at the neckline, cuffs, and bottom.

I found some almost-matching buttons in my button jar.  I also managed to put the buttonholes on the left front rather than the right front.

I loved the pattern and, to my surprise, I loved the yarn.  So soft, so easy to knit with, so cheap!  Maybe another Liesl.  Or a perhaps a clapotis?  There's definitely more Vanna's Choice in my knitting future.

cant. stop. spinning.

I don't know what's come over me.  I am totally obsessed with spinning.  Ever since I got my Majacraft Suzie Pro, back in August, I've been spinning like a fiend.  And, needless to say, not doing much weaving.  Just how much weaving I'm not doing became clear today, when I walked past my big loom and noticed that the thrums from my last project were still hanging forlornly from the heddles.  When did I weave this project?  Last December.  As in, a year ago.  I have done a few projects on my Baby Wolf in the interim, but still . . . pretty pathetic.One of my goals when I got back into spinning was to become a more proficient spinner and to try out new fibers and techniques.  To this end, I signed up for the Spunky Eclectic fiber club and now, once a month, a small box containing 4 ounces of surprise hand-dyed spinning fiber arrives on my doorstep.  I love the club -- it keeps me spinning and lets me try out fibers I wouldn't necessarily seek out on my own, and, if I'm not crazy about a particular fiber, well, there's only 4 ounces of it.  That hasn't really happened, though.  Usually I end up wishing I had more of whatever it is.

This is "Selfish", last June's fiber of the month.  (Shetland, which I had never tried before.)  I spun thick singles and plied them with some laceweight wool/silk from my weaving stash.  Very soft and squooshy. 

This is "Ribbons", a wool blend, which I spun as fine as I could and Navajo plied.  I was aiming for consistency when I spun this and I think I more or less succeeded.  These two skeins weigh the same, and ended up having almost the same yardage.  Now I'm on to my November fiber, a totally luscious South African fine wool.  Photos soon.  I've got to get back to my wheel now!

vashon cottage

In a couple of days, we'll be heading to Seattle, and I really can't wait.  The kids will be there for a week before flying back to NY, and I'll stay for another 2+ weeks, enough time to hang out with my parents and my brother and maybe even spend a few days at my Vashon cottage.  I bought my little waterfront house more than three years ago, and have yet to spend a real night there.  By that I mean that I've slept on an air mattress on the floor, but the house has been such a work in progress that it's only recently that I've had an actual bed.  Now I have one, and a real kitchen as well.  Here's what the kitchen looked like when I bought the house

 

A pretty motley assortment of cupboards and, believe me, they were not clean.  That hole in the paneling helped convince me to spring for some sheetrock, so out went the kitchen

 

It looked like this for quite a while.  Then last summer, my friend Karen came to visit and, despite my diagnosis only a few days before she arrived, we got to work laying some tile where the kitchen cabinets had been and assembling my IKEA kitchen and two comfy chairs.  There's nothing like a home improvement project to take your mind off health problems.  Here's how the kitchen looks now

 

And the aforementioned chairs

 

The bedroom still needs some serious work and I have to find a kitchen table.  And I'd like to paint the trim and buy a picnic table for the deck and pull the weeds out of the planter boxes.  Or maybe I'll just sit on a swing and do nothing.

my new mantra

I don't know about you, but I wake up every day with a head full of stuff I want to accomplish.  Today, for example, I'd like to finish weaving the bamboo and cashmere shawl currently on the loom, begin winding a warp for another project, do some spinning on my new wheel, work on my summer weaving homework, and photograph some finished projects so that I can update my long-neglected website.  Then there are the usual bills, errands, laundry, grocery shopping and vacuuming (it doesn't help that I'm trying to save money by phasing out the maid service and cleaning my own house).  And on top of that, my daily challenge of being the world's best-controlled diabetic -- see my other blog for details on how that's going.

So, realistically, how many of these things can possibly happen?  Certainly not all of them.  Maybe one, or two, if I'm really lucky and disciplined.  The question is, why do I do this in the first place?  It's not a race.  I'm not going to win a prize for weaving the most scarves or spinning the most yarn or keeping my kitchen counters the cleanest.  I know this, of course.  The challenge is getting myself to believe it.

Just recently, I was reading an article on time management, and was struck by the following sentence:  "You can have it all -- just not all at the same time."  I'm trying to keep that in mind.  I can devote a day to weaving, but I have to accept a pile of dirty laundry in return.  I can have a sparkling clean house, but the half-woven shawl will remain half-woven.  My goal is to say "so what?" and concentrate on enjoying each day, rather than worrying what gets done or remains undone.  It's not easy, but I'm trying

the lure of new equipment

Honk if this has happened to you:  On a sunny Sunday, you go to a sheep and wool festival, just to look around and maybe buy some spinning fiber (and nothing else!).  At one of the booths, you see a wheel about which you've heard many good things ("effortless treadling", "spins like a dream").  You're not in the market for a new wheel because 1) you're in love with your Lendrum double treadle and 2) spinning isn't even your major hobby.  But it might be interesting to see what all the fuss is about, so you sit down for a test spin.  It is a nice wheel.  The treadling is, indeed, effortless.  Nicer than the Lendrum?  Definitely not.  But different.

You walk away, pleased at your maturity and restraint.  You are actually capable of looking at a new toy and not coveting it.  You love your Lendrum.  It's the only wheel you'll ever need, right?

Before leaving, you cruise by the booth a few more times, just to look.  Driving home, you hear a tiny voice say "It is a beautiful wheel.  Not nicer than the Lendrum, just different."

"But I don't need another wheel."

"You didn't need another loom either, but aren't you happy you have it?"

"Well . . ."

"And because of the weak New Zealand dollar, this wheel is actually cheaper than it was two years ago!"

"Well . . ."

"It would be false economy not to buy it now.  Who knows when the price will go up?  And besides, having two wheels will allow you to have two projects going at the same time!"

"Well . . ."

I guess I don't have to tell you what happened next.

all quiet on the weaving front

Not much weaving going on here lately.  In fact, ever since the flurry of weaving that produced my Handwoven scarves (yes, umm, I do have a project article in the March/April Handwoven, she says modestly), I haven't actually woven anything, except for a few inches on the comb reed sample.  Weaving is something that seems to come over me like a fever.  When I'm in that mode, it's all I want to do and when I'm not . . . well, I'm just not interested.

What has captured my fancy in the last few weeks is sock-knitting.  In all my years of knitting, I've never been tempted to make socks, mostly because they seemed like a lot of work for something that would soon wear out (like handwoven dish towels).  But on a recent browse through the book section of my local yarn store I came upon Cat Bordhi's book, in which she describes various "sock architectures".  Too cool.  I immediately bought enough sock yarn to last me about ten years, and started knitting.  Here are the results so far -- one finished, one almost.  Yes, I know they don't match.  But I'm planning to make another pair just like them.  Any day now.