Yesterday, my box o' wool got here. Two pounds. I put my foot in for scale.
I'm trying to get motivated; the plan is to split it up, dye it, and sell it. (Someone wants roving, right? Someone?) It's practice for the bag of looooovely roving that Bells sent me. I don't want to ruin that, so I'm gonna practice on this stuff, first.
Anyway, with the wool I got a cute little book, Spin Span Spun.
It's less than a hundred pages, and cost ten dollars. It contains a whole bunch of spinning lore from all over the world. Among the interesting tidbits, it appears that Hindu Yogis had this list of reasons why a person spins (like to make money or to clothe their family) and the most enlightened of those reasons was for the 'meditation' of it. That's the same as spinning to chill out and not kill anyone, right? RIGHT?
The husbeast has been using colloidal graphite to 'oil' my spinning wheel, and the mofo still squeaks (the wheel, not the husbeast). This booklet points out that early spinners oiled with whatever they had, and that it was often animal fat. I'm gonna be after the wheel with some olive oil as soon as the Goob goes down for her nap.
Anyway, this came from Paradise Fibers. They're okay. Shipping's on the slow side, and their wool can occasionally reek like a barnyard, but the prices are low and they haven't screwed up an order yet. For good-smelling wool and kickass customer service, I go with Kendig Cottage.
I haven't been talking about the Goob or doing much with photos because, bluntly, she's driving me insane. Lots of push the envelope stuff that small children do. You know, make sure that the rules that have applied since birth still apply. No standing on the furniture, no tantrums, no screaming... all those really mean, nit-picking rules. Bah.
Otherwise, it's raining. Not a big deal. Still plying the black silk; started putting medical adhesive tape on my finger for that, and it's not eating my index finger any more, but it still sucks. Um. Knitting on the beige thing from yesterday continues. Sekhmet is laying on my foot. Life rubs along, as always, whether we want it to or not.
But I'm enlightened now. Right?