Roses in the Snow

I once thought I hated pink. Actually, I thought it for many years. It stemmed from so many things - the Barbie dominant era of my childhood where pink came to mean a tiny waist, boobs bigger than Texas, and feet that were permanently fitted to dazzle all in 4 inch heels. And, as a brunette, pink poses challenges that, taken beyond a pale shade of shell or rose can quickly flood right on into trampish look. But, I suspect it has less to do with childhood icons, color palettes and how they flatter us, and a basic dislike for a color. I mean, I'm not crazy about yellow but, when found liking a shade of yellow, I rarely have moments of inner conflict and slight twinges of violent streaks. Part of the reason I have come to this conclusion is that I find so many other people who react to pink in the strangest ways ranging from utter hatred of anything pink to a tolerance of certain shades of pink to a rabid sort of attraction to all things pink. I have this on my mind, of course, because it's February and the month of love and so I figured it was the safest month of the year to do pink-ish (ducks in case pink haters everywhere are lobbing rotted fruit at her) for the Happy Hooves Batt Club. Meet the 'Roses in the Snow' batts - and a wild card month to boot. Woot!

Wild Cards are great fun, I think, and a concept that can quickly turn your stash into a goldmine. In these sets, a wild card means 3 batts - one of each colorway (shown here left to right: rose, roses in the snow, gold dust woman). The idea behind this was for a three ply yarn - perfect for socks that squish and bounce and live long and happy lives under the pressure of feet and shoes. But, that's only one way you can spin them. I toyed for a while with the idea of to plying each batt or 1/2 of each batt and then mix and matching the 2 ply from the other halves for a gradient lace wgt yarn for a shawl but, after frothing at the mouth with fevered confusion at ALL THE OPTIONS before me, I sat right down and made myself carry through with my original intention, and I'm very please with it. You can greatly extend your stash by spinning some 'plain' roving and plying it with a hand-dyed roving or a happy sparkly batt to get more yardage and plenty of color. Generally, my wild cards are about taking wild variations of color and blending them together in a yarn. You know, your basic eye popping contrasting colors sort of party. This time, though, we're playing with irony a little - making a wild card from lighter tones that, when blended, pretty much undulate and shift so subtly that the color becomes one. Only, that one color is chock full of magic because it shifts and changes ever so slightly throughout it's plying that is makes the eyes stand up tall and dance like they don't need the money. That's mostly due to the 'Roses in the Snow' batt - which has gobs of sari silk and glitz in it that sort of makes it come to life...really.
This little 3 ply - a light fingering yarn - is aglow with sparkle and dazzling color. She's a 400 yard skein at 4.2 ozs./120 grms - 16 wpi. I lurve her. Shhhh, don't tell...

It seems odd that a color that in color/gemstone therapy is used extensively to promote inner and social peace, healing, reverence and love can make people feel so, so, well, it's hard to explain how certain pinks make me feel. I'm definitely in the 'tolerate certain shades of pink' category and that just freaks me right out when I come to the conclusion that probably a big part of the reason that pink can instill such apathy, frustration, and even aggression in people is exactly because of the way it makes us FEEL - as in feel things that we're not entirely comfortable with feeling. And, you know, there's that prevailing notion that peace is weak. No one likes to be weak and I think the fear of that, alone, has fostered pink hatred for too long. So, a little experiment: look at this pink. I mean it, c'mon....really look at it for a minute. Take a few deep breaths, (exhale too!). Doesn't it make you feel a little, uhmmmm, happy? Then, do you look around to make sure no one's watching? Yep, fear of being caught loving soft rosy pinks is powerful.

Women certainly have reason to be troubled with pink (see above reference to Barbie) and to even have an aversion to the stereotypes that go along with something that is perceived as feminine. You know, it raises these very real fears of just how feminine it is good to be. And, what is the definition of feminine? A wisdom that is compassionate and/or a pretty, soft, and breathtaking beauty? It's hard to make the two mix - easier to steer away from something that can associate you with weakness or frailty. If we choose that path, sadly, we can lose sight of the beauty of unconditional love, of healing energy that makes you feel new all over again, of the joy of looking upon, smelling, touching and enjoying something so peaceful as a newly opened rose. I tend to go for overkill in banishing old views that you've outgrown and are ready to put behind you so, I recommend a full on embrace of pink....and go ahead and let yourself sparkle and shine shamelessly if you can. This 140 yds of 5 plied, beaded, petal adorned rosy loveliness sort of says, 'Hey, watch me - I'm not afraid to like pink' in a way that just makes me giggle. A little hint with spinning beads, I like to leave mine sort of dangling as I find that this bit of give is very helpful when knitting - so you can be sure to maneuver your beads to the front of the piece so they can be properly drooled over.

Yes, we have our wounds but, in terms of pink, you have to admit that guys are totally screwed. Remember in the late 80's/early 90's when pale pink polo shirts were being thrust on guys by their girlfriends? Poor guys. If they hate pink, they're accused of being totally out of touch with their own feminine aspects. If they like it, they're often accused of being too in touch with them. They really can't win and they certainly can't afford to be found liking pink which is a tragedy not only because I think it is so long since time that we stopped thinking women had to prove they are tough as nails to gain equality and men have to walk a tightrope of ridiculousness to avoid raised eyebrows and silly judgements but also because I don't know many men who don't look drop dead gorgeous in pinks or reds. Truly. A guy in a pale pink shirt? ... fans herself cuz she's either having a hot flash or a very inappropriate moment on the blog..... All together now, "All we are saying...is give pink a chance"...

And it was when I came to that that the inner rebel just screamed loudly for a while. I will not be programmed to despise something simply because it raises so many flags of vulnerability, of tenderness, of nurturing. To do that would mean that the world would continue to grow less forgiving, less playful, less open to the pains that loving brings. So, being a reformed pink hater and a proud flyer of my freak flag just whenever I can find the excuse, I went all the way with these rose petals and made a little trim that pretty much says, "so what, I like rose pink...shut up!" I'm working on the accepting vulnerability concept....it's a longer path than I'd thought. Perhaps I'll be reminded by these little curtain tie backs I made for my studio. A little daily vow to think crazy enough to believe peace can prevail and grow my roses in the snow.

Still, let the fact that the hooves have been out for only 11 days and, in that 11 days, I've spun some 200 yards of novelty yarns and some 400 yds of sock yarn and already sampled, swatched, and picked a pattern for the sock yarn and committed the novelty yarns to myself and Thing 1 for room decorations IN ANY WAY try to convince you that I like pink. Seriously.

dizzing a batt...draped over a many layers casserole of stuffs

This will be one of those posts that hugs a central 'theme' but wanders comfortably around some chatting material all the while. Oh, and picture heavy to boot. If you haven't run away, screaming, just yet - hey! Welcome!

I'm up feeding the wood stove on what is only the middle of a very cold snap. You know it's cold when the single digits seem like an optimistic goal. I just went over to the online weather source and they clocked us at an impressive 1.8 degrees F. I mean, not zero, but just escaping it by the skin of our teeth. So, I'm glad to have these spicy skeins of yarn sitting by my side. These are the 'Red Silk Kimono' batts from this month's Happy Hooves club - all spun up and ready to be knit into a shrug for me....should I ever crawl out from under the pile of guilt holiday knitting. But, rest assured, this late in the game - we're not going to speak of holiday knitting, anymore. Nope, we're going to look away and pretend we don't see those two socks still sitting in the knitting basket - their little dpn's hopelessly strewn about them and making them look like mangled yarn violence. uh, uh, We simply REFUSE TO SEE IT and it, surely, cannot get the better of us. And, may our decorative card-stock (handmade - heh!) IOU's be a reigning in and sort of beacon of wisdom to help us see our lofty and errant goals for gift knitting in the future. Or, if not, just don't let the guilt and feeling of general desperation and hopelessness return until the same time next year - LOL! One of my favorite ways to spin a 2 ply from such bold colors is to mix and match the gauge of yarn. For this one, I made two of the three batts into a fingering wgt. yarn and then spun the other batt very fine. This helps to elongate the colors so that you get an even spread of boldilicious yarn. .So, from left to right we have: one little skein of 2 ply - dk wgt and 55 yds and to the right of it, a bigger skein of 2 ply (200 yds). Two little skeins of ends were Navajo plied and total 80 yds (they're hanging out all casual-like on the bottom right) and the 'mmmmmmmmm' skein on the far upper right is one strand of the 'red silk kimono' batts and one strand of a 'so sari' batt from the shop. Richy filled with sari strands and unashamedly BOLD. They are pairing up with that 50/50 wool/silk yarn I dyed red - waiting with my malachite wood knitting needles from Autumn Hollow Farm to be mine, all mine - should that thing we're not going to be talking about (gift knitting) ever be done with.....taps fingers restlessly on counter....

So, I get this question more and more and it generally goes like, "How do you spin from a batt?" Now, there are a million answers to that one question but no one really asks it because they want to be TOLD what to do. They ask for the same reason I ask - because they are formulating their own 'way' of doing it. You know, you find your jumping off spot and try to be well informed and then - $#@#splash$$#% - you swim your own way. Most of the time, I just pull the batt open and start spinning. But, in a certain situation, such as was the case with the bold color contrasts of these batts, I think dizzing the batt is the way to go. Note: the pics I will show you of dizzing a batt are MISREPRESENTATIONS. Seriously! They aren't really the red silk kimono batts AT ALL. I've long since missed the opportunity (read here, forethought) to include a pic of those batts being prepped. It was a primal thing that overtook me and they were on the wheel before I knew it. I did diz them, though, I just have no proof that I actually did so, you'll have to take my word for it. snork I began by laying the batt out flat and beginning to tear off a long strip of fiber down the length of the batt, stopping just short of severing it entirely so I can start tearing a noodle back down the other direction. It shouldn't provide me with some perverse pleasure to tear the strips and leave the entire mass connected so I can have one long, continuous ball of roving but, it does, so there you have it. I strive for it which makes me a genuine dork but, here is the whole shebang with not one really severed end.

Gently pull the roving through the diz, after loosening the mass behind the diz - it's a hand to hand rhythm that you'll polish with your own technique once you've done it a time or two. Just don't tug too hard or you break the magic noodle and, well, actually nothing really happens other than the roving is broken into smaller noodles but, I'm all for drama so I like to pretend it's really important! Then, you wrap your noodle (or noodles)into a big ole ball and you feel rightly proud of yourself. Let this linger a while if you can because you just never know how quickly that satisfaction can transform into growling should the wheel and fiber be out to play tricksey and make you spin all wonky in spite of yourself.


Now, the topic shifts wildly to a little Solstice Spin-In that we're partaking in in the Ravelry group. Do join us - the only rule being you must make something for you. You heard me right and I know it is truly scandalous to think of doing such a thing when those things that we're NOT MENTIONING here are still not finished. The gift socks are talking to me - oh nooooooos! These batts will become a vest. Really, they will.

I've been talking to many of my friends, lately, having realized a while back that I had become far too focused on only the family and not necessarily giving the friendships the time they deserved - because they are the well from which I drink and they are so very important. It would seem that many of us have had a rocky road to walk in 2008 and the holidays, for some of us, just don't have their usual magic and warmth to them this year. So, I just wanted to be sure to send out some loving cyber/fiber hugs and say thanks to the many people who've been kind, open, and every steady friends from the ole blog-thingummie. Ya'll rock.

In the rocking department, I always place Susan. Susan is one of those beautiful people who always says something that makes you feel great - even if you thought yourself too sad or glum to believe you could. So, I got this card from Susan the other day (mwah! thanks, Susan) and it was just so beautiful. I've read it every day and only after the first few did I finally stop choking up and getting all teary-eyed. Once, I bashed myself for being such a goober that I didn't even send out Christmas cards this year....but I stopped that right away because that was just silly and also not a credit to the beautiful sentiment of the card. So,without further ado, I leave you with this and a glass of fire whiskey to keep you warm on the inside!

a card from Kathy Davis Studios:

The Greatest Gifts:
May we break boundaries, tear down walls, and build on the foundation of goodness inside each of us. May we look past differences, gain understanding, and embrace acceptance. May we reach out to each other, rather than resist. May we be better stewards of the earth, protecting, nurturing, and replenishing the beauties of nature. May we practice gratitude for all we have, rather than complain about our needs. May we seek cures for the sick, help for the hungry, and love for the lonely. May we share our talents, give our time, and teach our children. May we hold hope for the future very tenderly in our hearts and do all we can to build for a brighter tomorrow. And may we love with our whole hears, for that's the only way to love.......

I have discovered banging your head into a wall is actually therapeutic.......

I was supposed to be here days ago but as the Universe seems to be bowling right through my carefully laid plans - I, as you know, was not. Fasten your seat belts, my pretties, because this Mercury retrograde thingie coming up at the end of the month promises NON-STOP ADVENTURE! Supposedly, it will be the biggest of the year. This would be great if it was a time of endless pleasure, non? Or, maybe even a time of maximum efficiency - so that you have that brave sense of accomplishment when done with it? Uh-oh - but this is the one where chaos rules the day, arse-backwards happenings will be happening, and the general sense that banging your head into the wall MIGHT actually bring relief! Lucky me, I got a 'pre-taste' of it yesterday.

I was really going to come here to say a big ole teary-eyed 'thank you' to the Sheriff of Knittingham for giving me the 'I love your blog' award. Thanks, Lorraine! In addition to being a stellar knitter after my own heart, and the designer of Guinevere, my greatest winter knitting passion (it will be mine this year!), Lorraine is just one of my treasured knitterly people to know. It helps that she has a most fabulous sense of humor as I regularly stick my foot in my mouth (just to taste it, sometimes!) and she never seems phased by it....gotta love a friend like that! I'm not good at picking people and blogs so I'll just say that the award goes right back at ya cuz, let's face it, you're always on the list when I have to cite a blog I lurve! Oh, and hope you are feeling better, soon! Cruddy ole flu, I wish it would go away and leave you to knit in peace!

So, I was also going to show you this. I know, I know, I was supposed to be knitting the 'curved shawl' from VLT with the handspun treasure chest yarn. We will walk through that process in a bit. I was going to show you this yesterday but I woke to the sound of one of my kiddles asking Dad if he was 'okay' in that worried tone. I scuttled into the room to find him bleeding - apparently he was cutting a bagel and stabbed the palm of his hand. The man needed pressure and a towel and it was not the 'right' time for me to study with perplexed thoughts how the dog spit he could have made such a deep cut with a bread knife. Only, both of the bread knives were STILL IN THE DRAWER! Hmmm. I thought about it later and would have asked more on the subject except he was so helpful to offer to cut the base for me and the Things 'exhibit' for the fair so I dropped it....until I heard the sound of 'oh crap, that hurts' coming from the studio. Scuttled again and found that he was so busy cutting through the base that he failed to notice his finger was actually the thing that was making the cutting hard. Fortunately, the base is covered in fabric so no one will notice the blood all over the naked material. Towel, pressure, silently shaking head and biting tongue VERY HARD, I let it go. Later that evening, when he was taking a pot of hot water off the stove and spilled it on his foot (near boiling it was), I scuttled even FASTER to the horrible sound someone makes when they are burned. You know, that AAAAHHHH! squeal that makes your insides churn as you hurl yourself toward such unpleasantness? He's okay, though I may not be saying that for long. After securing the promise that he 1) will not ever cut anything again as long as he lives and 2) will stay away from every conceivable danger and 3) that he's really okay - I offered to put a pillow over his head and relieve him from this obviously slow and wretched process of self-destruction. The short story (right!) is that the bread knife seemed all too practical so he forewent that option and opted instead for a sharp steak knife. When he got to the 'crusty' tough part, he just wrenched it real hard to cut on through....which, it did! Urgh - Bread Knife - it's for bread - who knew? she's banging her head again!

I was working on the shawl when the last mishap happened and, because I jumped and ran with no thought for the knitting at all, there were some injured stitches, hence, I am a bitter woman. I left the pattern in question after many head-banging-into-walls sessions that basically consisted of this:

1)I like the shape of the shawl, not the stitch. And the shape, as you all know, is not very complicated. The stitch? My gosh - when do I have time to sit down and knit lace that has no cheating 'purl all' stitch side? I wanted something I could carry around and knit when I'd otherwise be biting my tongue and hissing 'bread knife' at everyone!

Solution: Designing a simple shawl in the half-circle shaping that I like and ditching the maddening holey stitch pattern.

2) The stitch pattern is holey. And, no, we're not speaking in a spiritual sense here. It has lots of holes. Lots of holes for a Mainer means I could wear it maybe one month a year. Sometime after black fly season leading up the the 'no one told me summers in Maine would be this stifling and hot' season that others casually call 'summer'. Holes, as you know, let air through - which is in direct contradiction to the supremely cold air that I'd be wearing the shawl for protection from. I poo-pooed this excuse, at first, and chastised myself for being too lazy to knit the hard stitch. Until, I went and looked at the shawls I have so far. Aside from the black poncho I made years ago and have since worn to a state of frizzed out lint-collecting that it really is for 'around the house' or I'd probably need a dust bunny permit to wear it in public, and my 'barn shawl' that I crocheted years ago and wear during lambing season (so, it's in pretty rough condition as it has been used once or twice to wrap a cold and failing lamb in to rush them inside for CPR by the wood stove), all of my shawls are excessively holey. Not that a shawl can't have some lace and some holes, understand. I mean to say that my natural inclination is to pick a stitch that is very 'open'. And that is wholly (gawd I love a pun) inappropriate for Maine weather. Hmmm. Let's recap - the two shawls that are not holey are near worn out - implying they are used regularly. The 3-100 holey shawls that are collecting dust in the closet are in prime, nigh brand new condition. Really freakin' demanding stitch for another holey shawl????

Solution: Designing a simple shawl in the half-circle shaping that I like and ditching the maddening holey stitch pattern.

And, finally 3) After denying the inner wisdom that propelled me through this thought process, (I mean, I'm surrounded by such vast intelligence that it is obvious to everyone how I might feel overwhelmed and incapable of meeting such competence - Bread Knife!) I cast on and kept on stitching anyway. Stitching, drinking coffee, ripping, cursing a little. Okay, by the third time, the coffee was cold so I was cursing ALOT. Still, I got about 5 rows in, stretched it out to block the stitch pattern, and felt that the way the color shifts in the boldly adult rainbow yarn was going was, well, kinda boring.

Solution: Designing a simple shawl in the half-circle shaping that I like and ditching the maddening holey stitch pattern.

Are we seeing a pattern, here? Guess what I did? No, really, guess? I ripped it - again. Then, I put it down and went on with the day's work. I'm a glutton for punishment because I managed to convince myself, again, that I lack the discipline to knit a good shawl and that I might also lack the talent to devise my own pattern. So, I cast on - again! And, this time, I knit 10 rows before I realized I hated how the yarn looked knit this way. Bread Knife!

I ripped, I laughed, I threatened to stab myself through each fingertip with a sharp, aluminum sock needle if I tried to cast on this shawl in this stitch pattern again.....and I'm working on a simple half-circle shawl that will have a dazzling border chock full of holes - so that it keeps my neck, back, shoulders, and chest warm. With the holes that low, only my butt will be frozen and maybe if that happens - some of it will fall off. Bread Knife!

Great giveaway winner will be announced next time, promise!

On the importance of enjoying cheap thrills....

Many, too many years ago, when hubster and I were first starting our long crash course in maniacal living journey together, we were what is commonly referred to as 'starving students'. I had quite my sane, stiff office job to go to school full time and (finally) finish the degree I'd been puddling through at a community college whilst working full-time. I took a waitressing job so I could work nights and 'immerse' myself full-time in my courses. Unfortunately, the waitressing job was at a country/western bar. I should have known better by the first day, when we were instructed in how to 'wear' our uniform. An off-shoulder ruffle blouse (how did these people expect us to carry trays of beers around a dance floor with our blouse ruffles off the shoulder I don't know but as you read on, you will see that a pants wearer MUST have dreamed this costume up!) with a super short black mini-skirt (as in, don't bend over and, fps, wear underwear!) and high-heeled, fringed leather cowboy boots - cowboy hats optional but encouraged if you had slick hair and were incapable of wearing the preferred 'big hair' do.

After about a week or two, this and many other aspects of the job started to wear on me. Like, there was the time that a guy who insisted on trying to reach up my too-short skirt while I was filling their table. The first time, I shamed him properly and instructed him never to do it again. The second, I was mean. The third, I put down my empty tray, grabbed him by the collar and brought his head down as if to slam it into the table just until it was almost there and pushed him back up. That was the time that worked.....and permanently earned me the reputation of being the kind of waitress that you look but NEVER touch.....that's me, the cowboy bar whacko!

As you can imagine, this was a very short lived career move. I soon decided that, at least as an office worker - there was some enforced civility involved. I look back on that experience, though, and I think I learned so much more than I was willing to admit at the time....about people, about beer, and about how much and truly and deeply I despise Brooks and Dunn. But, there was one other thing. Our head waitress was this amazonian red head for whom I can recollect no name but I want to say it was something like 'dolly' or 'donnarae' or something. Anyway, one night, maybe the same night as the three times head-smashed-in-the-table guy, I was pretty exasperated about the skirt. I conceded that the shirts were cute, if impractical. I accepted that, though tennis shoes are a far more safe and logical form of footwear for a waitress to don - the fringed boots were essential to the desired 'atmosphere'. But, the skirts, as I complained to 'dolly', were just barbaric. I was going off in the break room about how they must be dry cleaned with pheromones that attract pigs and started to describe some of the horrors of my night. She shifted her gum, smiled, and informed me that my problem was that I'd forgotten the virtues of cheap thrills. She went on to say that I should be glad for that kind of attention, for there might be a day when I was her age that I would find the greatest cheap thrill I'd get out of a day was when one of the kids dripped popsicle down my legs.

Now, I know ya'll can't tell because of the atrocious grammar and flippant style of the blog - but I used to be a writer. This phrase, so beautiful and perfect, just implanted itself in my brain.....I have never forgotten it. And, whenever it re-visits me, I seem to have a different take on it - or a hidden revelation. Who knew? Amongst high powered lawyers at a top law firm, working for the Senate, and generally feeling pretty proud of myself to be so young and so 'successful' and, yet, my pearl of wisdom came from a head waitress in a cowboy pick-up bar!

I've been delving in the 'natural' and not so natural aspects of natural dyeing....been getting ready for our show on the weekend of the equinox, and generally working like a little doggie. But, last weekend, I decided enough was enough - it was time to break out of the subtle plant dye tones and get myself some cheap thrills....and I knew just where to go for that. These are the September installment of the Happy Hooves Batt Club - Treasure Chest. A deep red background with some well blended color surprises. Only, mine is a cheap thrill with a little 'accent of trampness' on account of a mistake. Seriously, it was a mistake. I had my recipe all set and was jumping in to make this month's batts when I read my directions wrong (true genius, eh?) and accidentally put three times the angelina in them. Serioulsy, it was an accident! Why are you looking at me like that?

As with all 'mishaps' in my studio, the batts HAD to be rejected from the pool and go to - ME! (tries to look very disappointed about that) Just wanted to say so because if you're getting ready to spin yours up and you're looking at mine and thinking, 'dang, that's trashy' - rest assured all the others will be more tasteful and subdued. I was going for trashy - cuz, let's face it, I live off the grid and haven't a freezer big enough for popsicles!

This near 700 yds. is begging to be this shawl....Cuz, you now, I think I'm rounding a corner in my life wherein big hair doesn't seem such a silly thing after all! I'm thinking 'curved shawl' from Victorian Lace Today - whatcha think?

Jelly

Such a vulgar sounding word for something so sweet and innocent, isn't it? The canning season is under way and the first to make its debut this year would be lemon balm and mint jellies. Prepared separately, of course. Actually, you could combine the two as well but since I made two batches, I kept them separate, not sure how the hubster would like jelly made from weeds and sometimes he's a downright freak about all things minty though I seem to have tweaked that with this little batch of sweet, slippery delight. There's not much bread around these days because when you cook with a wood stove and the dog days of summer are long and lingering with 80+% humidity, baking bread is really not a sound option. Still, some flat bread in a skillet (made on the grill outside) is an option, or some good whole grain store-bought bread when we have it. Last and most always over-looked and under-appreciated, the cracker makes a suitable substitute because, you know, when you've gone to the trouble to make some jelly, you're not willing to wait until the next trip into the grocery to taste it!

This year's batch came out delightful. I tripled the strength of the tea and the lemony flavor really packs a punch this time. Same with the mint - as I'm finding that if you follow the recipes that call for, say, 2-3 cups of chopped herbs, the full flavor of them gets so diluted that your jelly really ends up tasting like sweetened grass. Oh, and because I'm including the recipe below I just wanted to note that I don't make 'low sugar' jellies. Jams hold much more potential for 'tinkering' with the sugar content but jellies are a little more stubborn and runny jelly is not worth all of the work that goes into filling the jars. It's not like we eat it by the gallon and not everyday so I've chosen to ignore my inclination to lower the sugar and just make a well-set, delicious, organically home-grown jelly that will make people smile and try to get on my good side so they can find my hidden stash(wink). We settled for the only thing we had, toast and crackers to go with the delicious lunch we shared today. Peach slices and lemon balm jelly on crackers (toast for some who don't like crackers) with a mozzarella/pasta salad dressed with fresh basil/thyme/lemon juice/olive oil/crushed garlic salad. We were stuffed because, as we often do with our meals that are held around enjoying our own grown and preserved food stuffs, we ate like pigs! OInk, oink.

Here's the recipe I've created by merging some I've found in books and on-line, and then tweaking it to make a jelly we all love. You can use any herbs, a combo of herbs, or some hot peppers to make a minty jalapeno jelly (use vinegar in place of lemon juice then)
5 cups chopped and packed fresh herbs (I used lemon balm for batch 1 and mint for batch 2)
1 1/2 packages pectin powder (sure-jell or the ball brand both work fine for me)
5 cups sugar
1/2 cup lemon juice

Boil 6 cups of water and pour over the herbs, covering, and steep until water is cool. Strain liquid and squeeze the herbs to release all the flavor. Add lemon juice and pectin to herb tea and bring to a rolling boil, stirring regularly. Add sugar and return to boil, stirring, boil for a minute or two. Remove from heat, pour into jars and seal - water bath for 10 mns. at a boil.

As the Tour De Fleece is drawing to its end, I seem to have gained some spinning momentum yet again. The Esmaralda batts from last week practically FORCED themselves on me so I had to stay up late last night spinning them up. The peacock (last month's installment for the Happy Hooves Batt Club) was a dream to spin and I harvested near 400 yards of dk wgt yarn from the 5.6 ozs. of batts that I spun - that dazzling pile of beauty will be pooled with some of the other black batts I've been spinning (Black Magic Woman, Blue Jay, etc) and, someday, be made into this. The singles of 'Galadriel' and 'Gold Dust Woman' are so squishy and soft and I am grateful to have re-captured my ability to spin a solid, soft, and great single. I'd been warned that when you learn to spin sock and lace wgt. yarns, it is hard to go back to a smooth, lofty, healthy single. 'Pfft!,' I said to that. Only, it was true. It took much practice and a replenishing of my favorite singles fiber - Cotswold - in the stash to get me back on the singles wagon again.

I started a new pair of socks (I know, I hear the 'big deal' and loud sighs) but this one really is news- as I have wondered from my beloved dpn's to try the circular knitting method in Cat Bordhi's sock book. I fell in love with the Tibetan Long Socks. Funny thing is, I'd also fallen in love with the Chai yarn. I was all set to selfishly knit it for myself when SOMEONE with really big ole feet and a birthday the day after x-mas, mentioned ever so casually that he loves that colorway the best of all my hand-dyed sock yarns. Urgh (bangs head on cabinets) it is so hard to be good! But, good I will be. I look at it this way....the socks will be a gift....on loan. If I don't feel they are being properly loved, I will sneak them into my sock drawer and nary a word will be said about it, right? Bwah ha ha ha!

Over my fear of the finger!.

I've been afraid of the finger for too long. Seriously. Back when I was still wetting my feet at the whole knitting gig, one of the things I dreamed of making in vast quantities - every color imaginable, and comfortable as all get out was gloves. I despise having cold hands. Also, living on a farm AND having children has greatly increased the number of times I've had to touch something icky with a bare hand that made me long for many pairs of washable gloves. So, you know I tried it, doncha? Unfortunately, I had yet to be tamed by the rash gauge master. Sadly, I used some coveted handspun that was oober soft and luscious but not exactly an enduring grade of fiber for being worn on some busy and earthy farmer hands. They wore out in no time and I was so scarred by the experience of trying to understand the whole 'knitting fingers' concept, that I just wiped that old desire from my mind and adopted a fingerless mitt under big-arsed mittens approach. Still, that's alot of fumbling between mitt and mitten to have fingers to twist fencing back together before your knuckles freeze, or some other crazy thing like that. But, at this point and for years after that - I'd do just about anything to avoid the dreaded finger.

After my camping sock knitting bonanza, I needed to move back to something more home grown. Something about pulling weeds in the garden, getting back into the groove of the farm, and whimpering when I walked for two days after sleeping on the ground (I've resisted the air mattress camping leisure for so long it has really just come down to stubbornness at this point - I see it as a mark that, once crossed, will make me a sort of weakened camper. I see the logic is warped but have no intention of changing so just humor me and I won't whine about it again, honest) made me long for handspun. So, I pulled out the 'pumpkin juice' yarn that I'd made. You remember that, don't you? I sort of added two stripes to the mix, one in a spring green and one in a brown - though I plied that with a full bobbin of just pumpkin juice to produce a tweedy sort of color shift. I find that works well when you're not aiming to be exact in your striping but more 'eyeing' it.

I was all set to knit the mittens I'd intended but changed my mind, literally, at the last moment. No pattern to guide me and just a stroke of 'aha - that must be how the fingers are made' and, before I knew it, I was making so many fingers I had to stop myself because, after all, these gloves are for my darling child, not for the six-fingered man. Since the striping would be a little 'off' with finger knitting as opposed to mittens, I decided to just let the pool effect that would result stay wild and 'organic' - so the hands don't exactly match but that is all the better because, as you may know, there is no humiliation like having serious or matching accessories when you are 15, that time of life being intentionally themed around finding out just how unique one can manage to be and remain in the confines of what your mother will allow you to be seen in public wearing.

With that finger fear behind me, I looked forward to the week ahead with a sort of confidence that makes me so grateful to be a spinner and knitter. It's like having a little blast of feel-good energy in your pocket that you can take out when you need to be reminded of your ability to actually accomplish something. Then, to my big, goofy wide smile surprise (that would be my goofy smiling), Michelle at Greenwoman honored me by giving me the "Arte y Pico” award. I'll just steal her quote about it as I don't think I could say it any better: The “Arte y Pico” award was created to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creative energy and their talents, whether it be writing or artwork in all medias. When you receive this award it is considered a “special honor”. Those who receive it are then supposed to choose at least 5 other blogs to honor with the award.

Like, WOW! Thanks so much, Greenwoman! I, too, feel squeezed to come up with only five blogs for my award giving but here I go:

Loribird is not only a super spinner and knitter but quite the fiber and culinary artist. In fact, this dear woman just exudes the beauty of things made with gifted hands. Which makes me kinda nervous, as she's the winner of this month's Great Giveaway so I have to create a magic ball worthy of such talent (see me sweating?).

Judy (aka the Spindling Scot) is beyond awesome, combining a true gift for spotting beauty in nature and it's gifts be they wood, stone, gems, fiber, and plants, as well as practically enchanting everything she makes with such a good, positive feeling that one can't be blamed if they become so attached to a diz that she made that anyone in her home found touching it is hissed at and scratched (uht, oh! must remember to work on being more human and less feline). I love many things about Judy so it is hard to stick just to the art award theme but in that regard, one of my favorite things about knowing and being loved by such a friend is that just when I'm ready to dig in my roots and stay in the same place (which doesn't leave much room to grow), Judy will do something that shakes me awake and reminds me to branch out as well to become a strong, old oak. Thanks, Judy!

Lorraine is a knitter/mum/woman that I wish to some day emulate. Firstly, the fact that this woman is living amongst teenagers and still has the mental fortitude to knit such beautiful lace (which requires counting and thinking and other brain functions that I am finding tend to be practically evaporated after refereeing one or two bouts of "mom, (insert the complaint of the day about fellow sibling who is also struggling through the teen years)". How she manages to create these beauties is mind-boggling to me....note to self - must.have.Guinevere!

Aija is such a fun spinner to follow! It seems we're always interested in similar things. In addition to being an oober talented fiber artist and making such gorgeous gemstone markers and accessories, she is a sort of singing voice of all things indie and artfully exciting with her 'etsy Friday' posts.

There's a new issue of Anticraft up - doncha know? I absolutely love this online magazine. It makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me blush (yes, I am still the blushing sort) and sometimes it makes me raise an eyebrow wide and look like a crusty ole dork.

In other news, I've been cussing at my sewing machine sewing some as well. You might recognize this fabric from the dress I made for Thing 1 - I had some extra left over and threw this skirt together because I needed to exercise some aggression. Why do I think I sew? I mean, I've watched sewing shows on PBS and have been around relatives that sew most of my life. None of them, save my grandma and she'd probably smack me with a spoon for divulging this here, screams or threatens their machine. My sewing days are exhausting, generally ending with the last seam being finished and something totally vulgar escaping my mouth. I love the hand-sewn item, and I desire to make them because I want to make what is in my head a reality - but the process is, uhm, kind of like warming up for a boxing match.

I've been keeping a secret......

About now, ya’ll are shaking your heads, going, “right, you keeping a secret – ain’t happening!” and you’re right in doing so. Everyone who knows me for five minutes knows that I suck at keeping secrets. In fact, in my twisted logic, keeping a secret is kind of a form of lying. I mean, there are good secrets and bad secrets but, either way of intent, the aim in coveting a secret is to deceive others into not noticing your devious secret keeping. It so goes against the nature of a slightly neurotic blabbermouth who likes to squeal and laugh out loud and tell you just what you want to know and how wonderful you are, etc. etc. Keeping a secret is a weight I don’t usually opt to bear because I know it’s just a matter of time before it eats away at me and I end up feeling like a slug.

Recently, in a effort to get things back on track in the form of peaceful times between Mr. and Mrs. Enchanted Knoll, we’ve been trying this strange but pleasant thing commonly referred to as ‘talking’. I know, sounds so simple, right? Only, the homestead is hopping and buzzing like a beehive from March to September and it is all too easy to get swept up in that momentum and FORGET to take care of the people you love. We’re slow – but learning. You’d think that after 16 yrs. Of marriage, we’d have stumbled on this ‘taking time to talk’ concept before now. The truth is that we have but, uh…., then we got really busy and forgot it again (rolls eyes at self and shakes head). So, hubster says to me the other day, ‘Is there something you want to talk to me about – because you seem kind of distant and I don’t know what to do’. The weird thing? Someone else that I adore said the same thing just days before….and they’re connected. From these two people, I have been keeping my big ole secret. So, I decided to come clean. I told him the whole story (which, yes, I’m about to share with you) and when I was done confessing my high crimes of liardom, sneaky and secretive behavior – he laughed at me! Yes, he did! He mutter something about not believing how gullible I am and that I worry too much. This may have strained these new tightropes of peacemaking a bit but, fortunately, I’m also one to forget about such things and I have to admit, I laughed at myself a little hearing it.

Herein lies, my big ole secret I’ve been keeping for some 7 months:

Many of you know that my good buddy, Lisa, was disrupted from her happy country living last December when a fire destroyed her home. I still remember the day I read her message. It started out something like a friend would think to say – like ‘we are okay (cuz they don’t want you to worry) but ……(insert whatever words you might think to say to describe such a nightmare)." I had to read it three times to assure myself that, though the fire was at night, it specifically said they were all okay. Then, I started thinking. Thinking what I’d say, or maybe I’d just listen and let her talk a while, when I called. Thinking about the Christmas box that had arrived two days before the fire chock full of goodies for me, for things, 1, 2, and 3, and for hubster from her family, and how their Christmas would be so totally different than she’d anticipated when she lovingly knit away on gifts for everyone that burned under the tree. I may have cried a whole lot because I knew myself and knew that if I didn’t cry first, I might cry whilst on the phone with her which would have been selfish and not the sort of friend I was hoping to be for her at the moment. Finally, I called. No answer. Staying with family during the holidays is crazy enough but when it’s because you’ve just lost your home, your pets, everything except yourselves, that’s a whole other thing so I waited. And, while I waited, I started to do what neurotic people do – which was to figure out a way to fix it all.
Only, I knew I couldn’t do that. In fact, I felt totally helpless to do anything. That’s where ya’ll came in. Realizing that my spinning/knitter friend would not even have string and hair to keep her company, I set about asking ya’ll for help. And help we did – we rocked! We sent her some stash rebuilding love that blew her mind and got her back on the knitting wagon STAT! I should have stopped there – at those two big, stuffed boxes of fibery love stuffs…..but I hatched another, more devious plan and kept this secret even from hubster (which I can honestly say is the longest time I’ve ever kept anything from him in these many years). I crossed the line into secret keeping, yarn hoarding frenzy. It was all due to this thinking: I was pondering all of the ‘things’ and pets and work that Lisa and her OH had put into making their home a good and well-loved place and started asking myself, “what would you miss? What would you need? What would you long for if everything you had had just gone up in smoke?” And, then I talked to Lisa – and after so long of us just chatting, she revealed to me that she’d grabbed one thing on her way out with kid in tow – her purse – which had her keys, her tam that I crocheted from handspun yarn, and a sock knitting project. Doncha love her? Me too.

A couple weeks later, I was thinking about that while packing up her stash rebuilding stuffs. And, it came to me that all that knitting she’d done – the shawls, the socks, the sweaters, all of it – was gone. Oh, I cried so hard to think that someone who has knit so much wouldn’t even have a shawl to wrap around herself and keep her safe at heart while she had to trudge through a bold transition from country home to urban living and rebuilding a home. There were four balls of purple yarn in front of me, and as I reached to put them in the box, they spoke to me. I swear they did! They said, ‘make it’. Now, ya’ll know I’m a southerner who attended 7 years of Catholic Academy and was raised by a police officer. So, I had angst about keeping the purple balls of yarn right away. Of course it wasn’t stealing – I was going to use them to make her a shawl already. But, still, it felt…..weird. I tried to entertain the idea of making her a shawl out of my own yarn but that seemed kind of arrogant and I like the sentimentality of using something that someone else lovingly parted with for her to make her something virtually infused with love from her fiber friends. I decided that it was one of those things that seemed uncomfortable but would be remedied when I sent her a beautiful shawl and made her oh so happy. I thought maybe by her birthday.

Only, just before that she contacted me and said that she was really missing her shawl and thought she might make another one. I had a very paranoid moment right then, I admit. Did she know? GASP! She couldn’t have – she wanted to make a shawl of a totally different color. So, I should have just bluffed and moved right along but, ya’ll, this is me we’re talking about – of course I ruminated this over and over and decided that purple was just the wrong color because she hadn’t even mentioned purple as a color she wanted to use. Back to square 1.

So, I thought, maybe by Mother’s Day. Only, by then I was back to thinking that a link to the beauty of the whole idea would be lost if I didn’t use the yarn that came from someone who wanted her to have it. Also, if I didn’t use the purple, what would I do with it? My conscience couldn’t bear the idea of deviating from what was initially a sweet gesture between friends to the kid returning the candy they swiped from the candy store. Dangit all, it was most definitely going to be the purple. I cast on for the second time. Fortunately, I got only as far as I had the first time, which would have been the casting on, before I changed my mind – again. I don’t know, it just seemed to keep bothering me and I started to think I’d never knit the thing if I insisted on staying with the purple. So, a full 6 months after starting this journey – I radically changed EVERYTHING. I put down the knitting needles, picked up the crochet hook, and grabbed the colorway that I knew was one of her faves (Queen Mermaid) and started making her some Mermaid Wings. Days later, I got an email from her stating that she’d decided to ‘spice things up’ a little (which is something we both have in common – seemingly harmless people who just appreciate the value of keeping the heart joyful) and had chosen a totally new hair color – mermaid! She also went on to say that she’d wondered if I was okay because I seemed sort of ‘distant’. I almost cracked right here and told her everything! But, that would have totally ruined the surprise and I just never get to surprise anyone and if I was going to come all this way to do it – I really wanted it to be her.

This is why I don’t lie. It is why I don’t keep secrets. I’m just not bred for it – it is not within the capabilities of my genetic makeup. I kept mum on it and told hubster instead. He laughed at me and instead of stewing, I went to work on finishing the Mermaid Wings. Okay, I may have stewed a little, too. But, mostly I kept hooking along making this shawl for the mermaid lady in Missouri.

Whew! The shawl went out last week, has met its new and loving owner, and I am finally free of the immense strain of all of that secretive yarn swiping. For the record, I sent the purple balls on to their intended home and they will, no doubt, be knit into something awesome (cuz Lisa is an awesome knitter). Now, wanna laugh real hard and then be surprised that I actually DID post the pattern?

I guess, by now, I've pretty much consistently screamed that I love all of you so much – my internet knit & spin friends are so dear to me. My surprise pulled off, my secret out, I was feeling good but that was about to change. That ‘feeling good’ was about to become a euphoric state of ‘wee, I’m so happy, I’m so happy…’ that continue on into the night when the Spindling Scot’s package arrived. And, to ice that yummy cake, a birthday surprise from Loribird! I don’t have a pic of Loribird’s package (ripped that one open before I thought of taking a pic – greedy fiber woman!) and almost didn’t have a pic of JudyMac’s but managed to stop myself squealing long enough to put down the one package I’d torn open greedily to take this ‘before’ thingie.

Judy made me a beautiful diz – and burned a soooo pretty mermaid into it. Seriously, is that not the most beautiful thing you've seen? I used it right away to diz the ‘Peacock’ batts from Happy Hooves this month. They are very nice, non? The diz did make a huge difference – I can’t wait to spin these! There was some gorgeous mermaid colored handwoven silk (cuz this woman is pure magic!) as well as a totally awesome crochet hook, and some roving she’d dyed with Ivy berries, and some CTH alpaca laceweight in, get this, ‘Peacock’ – so you know I instantly loved it . I’m always crazy about things that come from my fellow fiber friend’s hands, though, and the roving is beautiful! Knowing that Judy dyed it made it even more special. It shimmied right up next to this luscious merino/alpaca/silk roving that Loribird dyed for me and said, “you know, now all you need is something dyed by you and then spin us up and make a trio shawl from the hands of those you cherish”. So, that’s what will happen. The mullein is blooming (you see it behind Ms. Lisa’s shawl) so I’m thinking of dyeing with that……of course, a little indigo never hurt anyone, and there are berries to come as well.

And all I can think is, Gawd I’m lucky! Good friends, good spinning, good knitting, and the good life. If it’s so Pollyanna you need to kick me, I’ll one up you and say that, I understand. Go ahead, if it will make you feel better, just kick me – I’ve got enough smile today to endure that and more!

There's been some spinning going on through all this excitement. The yarns here are (from left to right) some rainbow roving that will be appearing at TLE soon, some 'tie dye' bfl roving from Spunky Eclectic, some bright white Cotswold from the sheep, and some purple cotswold with a 'spill' of angelina plied with a jester batt and, lastly, said jester batt navajo plied. Now, I'm off to spin that luxurious roving I made with my new diz - only I leave you with a cute babysitting photo. On summer solstice, one of our two remaining shetland ewes lambed. I knew she was going to but I was very worried, on account of the fact that we have no shetland rams. That meant that Rufus had, well, you know with Adora sometime in the late fall. URgh. I thought cotswold X's would be too big for her to bear healthily. I was wrong. Her little 'shotwolds' were very healthy and she had them and was back grazing in no time. They are too cute. Only, they are very energetic. This is the time of year when every spare minute is to be spent grazing for the ewes to grow round and healthy for the coming winter. Poor Adora, her lambs are too young to play with the big, spring Cotswold lambs....and though Rufus is a good dad and will babysit, they try his patience jumping onto his back and running all over him while he's trying to nap in the sun. So, being the good mom that she is, Adora takes them everywhere. On occasion, though, things 1,2 and 3 will take them off her hands and play with them for a while. You can see her, here, looking at them for a minute like a mom giving a sitter instructions. Within minutes of directing them in how to properly care for her perfect babes, she was off foraging and I swear I heard her breath a sigh of relief. Just goes to show you, even sheepie moms need a little help with the kids now and then!

A promise made good on....

This is the third day in a row that popping in here on the blog has been a number 1 priority. From that, you may conclude that I am either lazy, a complete idiot, or just insanely busy. If you concluded any of those, actually, you'd be a little bit right but I'm going with the insane and busy combo because it seems most flattering in the pool of choices and if you know me, you know I'm all about protecting my stellar reputation (cough, gigglesnorts inserted here). Life has just been so crazy lately that the days all seem to melt into one and even if that happens - there aren't enough hours in the day to do half of what needs being done. Tis the plight of homesteaders in Maine - short growing season, short show season, sheep who think only of grass and never of the hard work their shepherd puts into protecting them, and ungrateful cats who insist on laying in the floor when you're busily hustling through the house to get that 'to do' list under control - as if they accidentally set you up to perform yoga/ballet moves in mid-air just to prove your shriveled heart isn't so small that you'd step on a kitty. The weather has been no help - warm, humid, and sticky with dots of thunderstorms in between just to mock your need to dry the laundry! There are rewards even to that, though, as evidenced here by the double rainbow (you have to really LOOK at the shadow one on the left) that swept over us on Monday.

With all the complaints issued, (you really wanted to hear all that whining, non?)one might get a little grouchy. Lemon Balm is a perfect antidote to that - a soothing herb to calm the nerves that adds a 'zing' to your sun tea. I love this plant and use it medicinally, topically (great for cuts and chapped skin), and in teas and dishes where I want a lemony flavor. Although, it grows so vigorously that I've been known to tear off a sprig and crush it in my palms just to inhale it yummy citrus fragrance. We'll sit with Ms. Lemon Balm a while and then all will be well.

Wait a minute, who's that in my lemon balm? This super tall weed may be unrecognizable to those of you who were around back in the beginning when she was a gawky pre-teen tiny little thing. Thing 1 has been waiting for months for the birthday dress I promised to make her. I did make ....uh...something. Only, it was really slinky and sort of overly funky and we just agreed it would make a comfortable night gown in the summer instead of a dress. So, I promised I'd have it for her by the Fiber Frolic. Uh, Smeagol lied? With the solstice coming up and our attending a gathering with friends this weekend, I decided it was long overdue and did what had to be done. I locked myself in the studio yesterday and got to it. It's an organic bamboo stretch fabric on top with some hemp/org. cotton and novelty fabric patchworking on the skirt with a sewn-in petticoat and double tiered bottom ruffle. She loves it, my promise has been honored (though late) and all is well. Isn't she cute? What? Don't all 15 yr. old girls like to be called 'cute' and taking pictures of them bent over in the garden? I'm doing my part to be the shocking embarrassment to my teenagers that I'm supposed to be!

There's been much knitting going on but nothing completed. Such is the saga of 'you can knit after you do these billionty tasks in 1/3 of the time you would need to actually get them done'. I am on the home stretch on some of them - others are new cast-ons that I am not ready to discuss because they too clearly depict the stress level of summer. Summer blooms and it is all about throwing your pollen out there and making the best of it. So, when your best isn't coming along quite like you planned - nothing consoles you like the promise of something new and possibly fool-proof since some of your knitting, let's face it, is done while you sleep sitting up.

But, I have managed to get some spinning done. I loved spinning pumpkin juice into singles - which I did because I'm using it to make a hat/scarf thing for someone on my holiday gift list. When you're done doubting me and laughing wildly, let me explain. Each year, I go crazy around October and start having grandiose ideas that I'm some knitting super-hero. I manage to knit virtually nothing for myself until after December and my holidays are usually haunted with the dark reality that I didn't (and couldn't) have gotten it all done. While I despise change in its active formation, once it is in swing I generally jump right in. So, in studying my knitter's almanac and realizing that EZ (the greatest genius that knitting came to know as I continue to learn) suggests making mitts, etc. in the summer! Bloody Brilliant! So, the idea was set in place and boy oh boy has it festered. I now have knit one whole sock of a presumed pair for Things 1,2, and 3 for said holiday I used to dread.

The second I decided on the June batts for the Happy Hooves batt club, I knew they'd be something for my gal who loves all things orangey, peachy, and warm. I suggested in the notes a striping option and though I prefer pumpkin juice on its own - the color depth and variegation is, in my humble opinion, rather pleasing all by itself. But, I did suggest it and I also had a need for something a little more 'spicy' so I went with it. I pulled some green and brown roving from the stash and went for a semi-solid striping.

This is my favorite method for trying to consistently stripe a handspun yarn. I've found that if you have one ply of a solid, consistent color (pumpkin juice, in this case) and one strand that variegates, your stripes will be much less dependent on your exactness (or lack of in my case) for an even color distribution. So, for the second batt (spun on a separate bobbin), I needed only half of a batt of pumpkin juice. I ripped in in half lengthwise and then ripped the half down the middle again. I then took the two strips of pumpkin juice and laid them on the table. I added a strip of green between the two strips of pumpkin juice and a strip of brown on the end. Since I have this fancy carder, I carded them into one batt but you could just lay them next to each other and keep track of their sequence (pumpkin juice strip, green strip, pumpkin juice strip, brown strip). After I carded them together, I ripped the batt in half WIDTH WISE. Now I had two halves of a batt with the strips of color. I spun each half on its own bobbin and plied it with one strand of pumpkin juice.

The result? I think it will look stunning when knit into these. I loved the Minnesota Mittens the first time I saw them in Folk Mittens. But, uh, I was unaware of this technique it calls for that is written (don't know, really, how to say it) as 'tvåändsstickning' or two end knitting from the same ball. I'm a woman who knows her limitations so I'm knitting the strands from separate balls and making one strand be a solid pumpkin juice and the other being the striped version - I think the further diluting of the color array will make some really pretty covers for a patient soul's paws.

Happy Hooves and Unsound Minds.....

I've been foolishly holding off on posting thinking that I might have my new favorite yarn (cough - handspun vardo batts - cough) to show you. Silly me - I have a show next weekend and one two weeks after that and the planting to do. My singles sit on the bobbin pouting and I am reminded that I was supposed to come here a while ago and show off the May Happy Hooves batts - queen mermaid, doncha know.

I knew right away that I wouldn't be spinning a sock yarn from this month's batts. Firstly, I have been doing queen mermaid for as long as I've been dyeing so there is not a shortage of handspun in that colorway in my sock yarn trunk. Secondly, see above mentioned schedule of doom and you pretty much know that spinning a sock yarn would mean occupying the wheel for longer than I am able to do at this moment. So, being ever rational and also maybe on the verge of a manic episode to rival all others, I set the bar - higher. Yes, you read me right. Whilst most sane peoples would look at the map of impossibilities before them and think, 'simplify' as a tactic - I look at it and think, 'heck, if I'm gonna go down it may as well be in a blaze of glory - one that properly defines my fervent addiction to all things wool. I maybe could have stopped at this lace wgt. yarn but it seemed as if some divine source was goading me on - pushing me to that brink that would certainly either leave me thoroughly exhausted and hating myself, or thrilled to no end that all that hard work (and the extra work I'd made for myself in avoiding my job) had been worth it. So, I tried some beading to spice up the already cajun style brew in the fiber cooking pot. It's a twisted logic but it did work for me. When I finally crashed into bed, arms throbbing, eyes permanently crossed or so it seemed, shoulders aching, and the clock mocking me with a three before all the other numbers - I was as close to being thoroughly exhausted and thrilled to no end as I'd like to be at the same time for the next little bit. I will happily return to sock yarn spinning next month...promise.

So, because I am a lunatic, and because I didn't want to have all this fun by myself, I set up each hooves shipment with the same amount of beads and a strand of superfine yarn in case everyone else wanted to jump in on the insanity fun. I know there are many ways to bead a yarn and then there is the option that I usually follow which is to just add the beads when knitting. That is the sounder option. The more certain option. When adding the beads whilst knitting, you can be absolutely sure of the placement of the bead and of the color variation if you are using many different colors of beads. It all makes so much sense. However, making sense is not always the best medicine. Sometimes, you just have to let go and stretch your wings a bit. A fun, beaded, shiny novelty yarn is the thing for such times.

You can try stringing your beads onto the strand and then pulling them back as you ply but you will likely find that even the slightest buildup of yarn fuzz or even a stray bit of fiber can bind up and cause the strand to break, spilling your beads across the floor and practically forcing you to swear unceasingly for at least a coffee break's worth of time. If it breaks at the beginning, ruining all your hard stringing efforts, you might even hiss and spit as well as the swearing. The method I like best is to cut a 5-6 inch strand of super fine yarn or thread, tie the bead into the middle of that strand, and then, when you have the umpteen of them you need pre-strung, ply them into your yarn. I like this because you're not tangling a long string of beads of doom while you ply, because you still have some control over color variation and selection, and because the tying of the bead in the middle allows you to ply it in a little loose so that the bead can be flipped if you find it is in a disadvantageous position while knitting it. No one wants to go to the trouble of beading and knitting the yarn to have the beads on the inside of your precious knitted thingamajiggie, non?

After all of this, if you need to have some ice cream and try to find Ozzy Osbourne's 'Crazy Train' on you tube so you can turn it up really loud and mystify your teenagers with your wild dorkiness, do so - it is worth it. I'm thinking of a sort of hair taming fall season thingabobble from this adventure into the masochistic mind of yours truly. hmm?

In other news, the lame blogging cannot be blamed entirely on shows or gardens. We've been having a heck of a time with procuring transport over the past couple of weeks since our old blue truck up and bit the dust on us. So, after many failed attempts to shop for our own vehicle and, thus, find one we could afford as car payments are not really a reasonable facet of our lifestyle at the moment - I am again on wheels and plan to pack my strings and run away for a few days to Mass Sheep and Wool - if you're there next weekend, do stop in - cuz, you know, I love to talk!

As we suspected, word got around town and the dogs of terror have been identified. Just like I thought, people are working harder to pay more to drive back and forth to work these days and these pubescent pups have been left alone long enough to figure out how to trick their owners and be dashing adventurists all day long. Sadly, I was the one that got them in trouble and now they have those collars on that make squeaky dog ear torture noises when they pass their boundaries. I freely admit that my children and my dogs are good on their own accord as I thoroughly suck at disciplining anyone (still working on myself, actually) so I'm not judging or anything. It's more that I fear one day I might walk up to their yard and they'll look at me with scorn, 'there she is, the one who got us in trouble!'. I'll be known to the dog world as the informant. And Mr. Potato head shakes his hands in grief, 'oh great, now I have guilt!'

Prepare to be Astounded....

Pssst....it's me again - the sock. You maybe can't see me too well on account of that I'm the one in the back. Look, uh, I don't have much time - between you and me - they keep a pretty short leash on me but I don't really mind. Anyway, I kinda left you hanging and it occurred to me later that you might be worried about me. So, I just wanted to let you know I'm all right.

The last few weeks have been pretty tough, though. I don't mention it much because I don't want to risk the deep, dark basket treatment again. When I left you last, I might have mentioned a certain arrangement in a light that implied I was not interested. Let me just correct that by saying, publicly, that I reject that insinuation. And, honey, if you're reading (and I'm sure you are since you watch my every move), I couldn't be happier.

Of course, I haven't always been so wise. I admit that when she put you down to work solely on me, squealing with glee that we were 'beyond ankle' and 'almost in the mid-calf stretch', I kinda felt like everything had gone back to normal. Not for some time had she sat and rubbed my back and said soothing, loving things about my fantastic color. Then came the ribbing and the 'elf flap' (whatever that is) and I felt like I was a rock n'roll hero. She had to wipe her lip quickly not to drool on me in the wee hours of the night when she trimmed my flap with handspun silk and merino coiled yarn. When she gave me my tassle, complete with a beautiful brown glass bead, we both shuddered a little - which I foolishly took as a comforting sign that we were going to make it through the impossible saga of me being a mere sock and her being, well, that great big human thingie. I pictured us going for long walks (which, strangely, then, involved only one foot) in the sunset talking at length about the muses of our hearts. My tassel, I imagined, would flow in the wind, offsetting the sparkly yarn nicely - and I felt fine like a rare jewel. I was certain that my days on the shelf were over - and they were. But, the horror that awaited me, the lonely, darkened despair, was unfathomable in light of feeling so euphoric and proud.

Then, I woke up in 'the basket'. It's a deep, dark, dank place, dearest, that I'm glad you never had to go to. After the first day, I resolved to pout a little when she came for me. After the second, I was whimpering and beginning to cry whilst the other 'nearly done' creatures jeered at me and snickered while pointing out my, and I quote, 'fruity fluff and pomp'. By day 3, I was prepared to leap out of the basket and beg her forgiveness for whatever trespass I unknowingly committed but...she still didn't come. On day five, when she finally came back, I doted on her. I shined and twinkled for her. I shook my tassle like a wanton hussy and just when I was sure all was well, she explained that I was only coming out to be 'measured' against the 'other one'. Now, Dearest, I mean no slight on you when I say that I feared it was out of spite alone that you came up one inch short which necessitated me being thrown back in the slammer basket for another two nights. Oh, the jeering I endured from those basket creatures. They laughed at me even as I wept myself to sleep, those bastards!

But, all of this is a distant memory, I assure you. Since the day you were done, and we lay together for our photo session, I knew you were the only one for me. I mean, look at your tassel - so fluffy and sparkly - you wear your bead like none other. Your patterning is stunning and that curve of shaping on your calf? Uh, if I don't stop here I could get into trouble. Va va va voom is all I'm sayin'...

~~~~~~TRANSCRIPT BECOMES UNDECIPHERABLE OVER VULGAR NOISEMAKING AND STRUTTING~~~

Now, I know you may not be astounded by my socks but you should be somewhat so by the fact that I spun the yarn, designed, and knit them in a month, non? But, perhaps the sock saga isn't what you came here for. Perhaps you came because you always do - in which case I thank you rightly but also offer you the friendly suggestion that you might need to have your head examined. Perhaps you came because it is the first of the month and that is when I announce the terms and prizes for the May Great Giveaway. Heh! Who am I kidding? I don't believe I have announced the Great Giveaway on time - yet (says she who is always late to her own party) so it just might shock and overwhelm you to find that I not only spun some fab yarn and knit some totally quirky elvish socks from my own design in a month but that I also have (finally, I hear some of you whisper) made it to the announcement of the Great Giveaway on time. I sure hope so, because I have no picture. That's just what it is, a mystery. The Great Giveaway for May is for the quirky, eclectic spinner. You'll get 4 ozs. of mix and match mystery batts - chock full of whatever eye candy strikes my fancy as I make them. There are some rules for this month's giveaway, though and they are thus:
1. Ya'll - be nice. This will be explained in the following paragraph (or novel as the case may be).
2. If you forget to be nice, then be even nicer for a while.....it won't hurt anybody, I promise.
3. Leave your name and your most favorite nice thing someone has ever done for you(that you want to share in public, of course, heh heh!) in the comments for a random drawing.

I was a little disheartened to find some bashing of free gifters going on on the greatest fiber forum there isto be found. Kinda got under my skin a bit but then I laughed and, as I often do, thought about what my grandma would say to that. She'd say something like, 'dang, some people are so sour you can't even give 'em honey.' And that would be true.

So, the gist of the thread of bashing were about why or why not to give a freebie when someone buys something from your shop. Some said they did it to market future items, some said they felt grateful that people picked their lesser well-known shops from the pool of available fiber fish in the sea. But, sadly, some insinuated, or outright suggested that only a seller who doesn't believe in their own work would give something away for free with a purchase. Then, there was the assertion that nothing comes for free and, therefore, the purchaser was probably paying for their freebie anyway. This went on and on and basically became another one of those 'who' and 'who isn't' worthy of the title they bear (fartist, for my part)which is infuriating, insulting, and totally sad for me - and I think for most of the great people I've come to know in fiber fun land. It makes it all feel so icky that I (just for a moment) contemplated axing the Great Giveaway and ceasing to send my little 'present' with my packages. I did neither, though, because my intent is and has always been clear to me.

I am a giver. I love to give. Long before I had a shop, or sold fiber in any way, I would seek out bloggers whom I admired, found refreshingly humorous, or was indebted to for some knitterly expertise they shared on their blog that made light bulbs go blinkety-blink in my head and send them fiber oodles of love. The Great Giveaway is not here to lure you into shopping in my store. Though, if you are lured, we will treat you quite nice, indeed - just as we treat EVERYONE. The Great Giveaway, you may recall, is a way that I get to play around each month by giving any random little thing away to someone who visits me often. If you were a local friend, and you visited often, I would send you away with all manner of goodies. But, since we have this orb between us, the Great Giveaway still allows me the pleasure of gifting to friends and strangers. If you haven't tried gifting yet, please do, you will feel a tickle in your heart...a smile will replace your grim grin....and you'll experience a little bit of peace....it is all good.

As for the freebies I include in my packages, ditto. I do it because I want to and should the time ever arise that I don't want to, I just won't. I don't have the organization, wits, or savvy style to use it as a 'preview' to taunt and tease unsuspecting buyers into buying my future stuffs. I just usually (or hubster, whoever the carder may be) take some little samples of colors and some glitzy leftovers for fiber peoples and throw them on the carder. Sometimes, its bits of roving. For yarn peoples, it's often a stitch marker. None of these things adds anything to the purchase price or is in any way factored into my costs. My investment is in the time and consideration I feel for them when I make it. I generally use beads left over from larger projects on the stitch markers and recycled materials whenever I can. So, doubters of the kind intentions of people, please stop bashing them on the forums. Sometimes, people are just nice. I know it must strike you as odd or even annoying but there it is.....you can bully us, hate us, and suggest we are sleuths of fiber business all you want but we just might muster up our most stubborn bones and royally piss you off by continuing to be nice!