Crayons for Big Girls

Often, when I am in the proces of dyeing (and, probably taking in my share of brain-numbing fumes), I think about stuff. I find it is easier to think about the stuff I would otherwise avoid like the plague when I am looking at beautiful colors and smelling the lovely odor of vinegar and wool dancing in a dye pot. We're up to our eyeballs in science projects these days and dyes are just such an excellent way to make a kid pay attention and utter atrocities like, "you're so cool, mom, how'd you think of that?". You weren't expecting me to feel some guilt and reveal that I read it in a book about, well, science experiments, would you? No, I have finally learned to take credit for anything that makes kids think I'm cool. Anyway, with our Spring celebration of the Equinox - there was some crazy dyeing of eggs and dyeing some gelly crystals that turned into some gross slime after a few days above the woodstove (yum!). Sadly for the Things (and not so for the poor sap who had to clean the kitchen), we did not use all of our egg dyeing kits. Last year, we dyed some raw roving we had. This year, we needed a quicker fix so we put the fizzy potions together and stuck some dry (yes, I know, I should have at least wet it) white yarn in there. Thing 1 went for the electric fire-girl bold (center with a red arrow) and Thing 3 visited the Grand Canyon with his pink-red fading to sagebrush colors (top with a blue box) and Thing 2 stuck with some real fine blues, purples, and a green splash (bottom with green circle).

Awww, shucks, I was soooo proud. I had also been on the phone much of the time (therefore NOT fighting for a color I wanted and getting left with some muted elephant gray and a little blue and purple) and had to dye my yarn with what was left. I had to include some of my own 'lady of the lake' single ply and some shiny shell trim just to prove that I do know how to play with color. Now you see why I horde the dyeing experience for myself, usually. I guess, in a way, I should be proud - perhaps I have properly passed the torch since, virtually unsupervised, they managed to reflect the lessons we've learned in color mixing this week in a really beautiful way. But, pride doth come before the fall - and here I reveal myself for a greedy creep. Back, you thieves! The dyepots are mine and mine alone. While I have been known to grab a box of crayons, hum loudly, and draw frightening images (like, a mom chasing a dad with a chainsaw - just joking) depicting my deviant mind - it is rarely looked upon as a socially acceptable past-time for adult women. Essentially, my dye pot has become my crayon box. I can make colors get along at will, or carefully plan a grand union (which sometimes ends in pleasure but also sometimes in total mental breakdown - like the cave troll fiber I dyed two summers ago) and, let's face it, colors heal. Who can look at a rainbow and growl?

So, I made the watercolory purple blue stuff into a roll brim hat for Dulaan and decided that I need to recover my confidence a little. So, on the next sunny day - do you wanna dye with me? How about this monster skein I have of peruvian wool - done in a rainbow that you can make with only three colors? Cool.