Yeah, baby. I've been spinning all day and am on the second bobbin. At one point I did the what-you-should-never-do thing I tell everyone else, and went and took painkillers and went back to spinning. The bottom photo is pretty darn accurate for color; I took it in really nice, diffuse sunlight after a thunderstorm. Pretty, isn't it? Can't decide if I'm keeping it.
For a break I knit the sample for Frog in a Blender, for when I put it on my Etsy shop (probably tomorrow). I realize that doesn't count as much of a break.
It's been a good day. But let's not dwell on my stupidity! Let's comment on some comments!
-For all of your concerned about whether I burned myself with flying sugar, back in the dawn of my pastry-making hobby, rest assured. It flew off in such small threads that by the time it hit me, it was like getting hit with cotton candy. Sekhmet, who was sitting about five feet away, keeping me company in the kitchen, was also hit. We both just kinda stared at each other. Since then the cat's quit hanging around in the kitchen. No idea why.
-Roxie wanted to know the difference between a tweed and a heather. Really, it's pretty arbitrary, but it's got to do with how wide a range of colors there are in the roving/top/batt/whatever. Tweeds usually have a wider range of colors; that screaming red in my blue top? Hello, tweed. Heathers usually contain related colors, or shades/tones of a single color. How to spin them to best advantage? Beats me. I'm still figuring it out. Mostly I spin everything worsted and keep the plying simple.
-I intend to do some kind of crochet slip-stitch cast off sort of thingie for the Dreamsicle sock. I've done that before on lace and so feel most comfortable with it and am not in the mood for another botched bind off.
-Where the hell do I LEARN all this stuff? Um. I read a lot. My only excuse. Well, and I'm told my brain works oddly and shuffles together information from places it shouldn't. Pour in information, turn crank, see what falls out my mouth!
-I don't mean to sound as if I'm complaining about the Goob's girlie streak. I'm entertained as all hell. But the DNA is showing - she's playing 'dolls' with a bunch of cars. "Wook, mumma, it's a baby car. We need to take care of it." She DOES have dolls. She just prefers the cars. Bwahahaha. As for clothing, unless her bum is hanging out (or... other... parts), I don't intend to interfere. Ever. And the hair? Go for it. It grows out. Shave it, color it, spike it with wallpaper paste. I'll help. (Everybody's gotta rebel. Beats the hell outta drugs, unprotected sex, or drinking and driving.)
-Still looking into indigo vats. NOT the super-traditional ones that run on human urine... I don't dislike the neighbors THAT much. But I've read of several types that use different kinds of fermentation (yeast, bran), or yes, the chemically-activated ones where you remove the oxygen with the wonders of modern chemistry. Those seem like cheating, though. Maybe after we move, I'll do a vat to kind of introduce myself to the new neighborhood!
-Horse recipes in the French cookbook... none I've seen yet, and since it was written for the American audience (Imperial measurements), I don't expect to see them. I do know horse fat is considered THE frying medium for the original French Fries (actually Belgian Pommes Frites). No, I don't intend to eat pets. At least not until I'm A LOT hungrier than I am. (Never say never, but almost never.)
And now... well, the cat is snoring, the Goober is talking to Baby Twactow [tractor], and, geez, I think the husbeast is snoring too. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.
Yeah. Time to do some spinning.
8 comments:
Oh, the baby cars! I LOVE it.
The hair thing. I have a daughter with saphire colored hair. She's job hunting and is incensed that she may have to go back to blonde to get hired. I try to pick my battles and hair is not worth fighting ovr.
What pretty pretty yarn--and I know what you mean about doing stuff until your body just splangs and freaks out... everyone does it... it's therapy...
I have spent this weekend knitting myself into a cramp between my shoulder blades that just won't quit. Can I help it if I love all eleventy-three projects I have on the go?
Love the yarn, I wish I had a "baby twactow," and I'm jealous of the Goob's hair.
Sounds like your Mother's Day was just right.
This is why I love reading your blog - I never what kind of fascinating information or discussion will be there :-)
The yarn is beautiful. I can see why you wanted to keep going even if it required pain killers.
Glad you had a good day.
If you help her dye her hair and spike it with wallpaper paste, does it really count as rebellion?
Baskets out of wired ribbon? Oh, I LOVE it! Let me know how it works out.
They are frites in the Netherlands, too, and we got in the habit of calling them that. For years my husband swore by the beef-tallow-fried frites from a certain fast-food chain, and he was so disappointed when they went all healthy-fat on him.
My folks got so pissed when I dyed my hair with cherry kool-aid. It works though, you have red hair that slowly turns pink and your head smells like cherry kool-aid for a week. Lovely yarn too. It kind of makes me think of mid-west summer morning sky.
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