Dawn's Dream

If you're going to have a hangover, I guess this is the kind to have. This week has felt like I had a great hit of the perfect mood altering substance - even though I gave (most of) them up years ago!

Got the blog up (barely, but up), joined the Spinning SP on knitty, finished up a cable swatch I test-knit for a cool designer, took a class on owning my own business yesterday, and finished off with a trip to Knitting Sisters and Trader Joe's, and this morning, my best girlfriend who moved far, far away almost two years ago FINALLY got her computer set up! Shoutout to Georgia!

Unfortunately, with all that giddy energy, I think I went retarded on the SP thing. If I've blown it, so sorry - but package in the mail already today!!

Adventures in fiber - truly!

Zowie - just back from a quick trip to see my rockstar mom who's just had her second knee replaced. It was great to see her, help out, and relieve my sisters who have managed mom's surgery, two businesses, and kids.

Of course the first thing I packed was yarn, and projects, and supplies for my sis to try felting, and spindles and fibers to play with. I got a LOT of mileage out of the silk hankies - my mother was amazed by them. As I was describing my spinning and plying attempts, we were talking about singles vs. plied, and I did something new... I had balls of Butterfly cotton, Lopi, and Cascade 220 with me - I pulled them all apart, untwisted, and poof - I broke them all down to their natural state. I'm really not sure why this delighted me so much, but then I'm pretty easy to delight. It fascinated my mom.

There wasn't much time to knit or spin, and I forgot the pattern for CeCe that I wanted to work on, but then I hit the usual Bermuda Triangle I find when I fly to Florida, and spent most of Wednesday in airports. The final bit of my first half pound of Corriedale was just the thing to keep my head from spinning off! Now I'm chuckling at that term - how appropriate - and not intentional. Anyway, I spun for what seemed like hours, and entertained many at several gates while trying desperately to get home.

This fiber thing, whether knitting or spinning, is amazingly good for this mostly anti-social* hermit. I NEVER talk to people on airplanes - never. I spent the whole day gabbing it up, whether it was with the 10-year old triplets who watched me spin or the gang of us going from gate to gate trying to get a standby flight and being berated by hostile gate ladies! When I finally boarded and found my seat, it was next to a very fun guy who was part of our gate gang - and we had a grand old time yukking it up about all sorts of crazy things. What fun!

*I'm not THAT bad... but given a choice, I'd choose going home and getting in my jammies after work so I can knit/spin/snuggle cats over socializing any day!

It's begun - I'm competing with my backyard birds while beating off mosquitoes for the ripe purple pokeberries on three of the weeds growing in my yard. This will be my attempt to experience a full circle moment, wherein I dye yarn with the fruits of the yard as my hippie mother did in the early 70s. She managed this feat in her early thirties, while raising four children, running a house in the woods while salesman dad was away. I will have a huge advantage and luxury - I have only cats to herd. She recently sent me a bunch of her old dyed wool rescued from storage - labeled with things like pokeberries and goldenrod. Full circle indeed.

Can't wait! If the color turns out anything like the juice on my fingers it will be beautiful. If I can gather enough berries. The neighbor just decided, after a summer of wild growth on his property, to mow and trim. The pokeberry bush in his yard is no more.

I have about two cups of berries so far (frozen) - with the prospect of just another cup or so before it's too late. Wonder how much BFL roving I can color with it.....

Wait - strike that - reverse it please!

I've been on a psychic cleaning binge, which means that I've been removing clutter and finishing things dying to be finished. I organized all my knitting magazines into one place, in chronological order by mag. I had a major "put it away" session this morning. Lo and behold, I think I've found my brain under all that mess! I get so full of life stuff sometimes I have to stop and dump and clear and sort and file to get going.

Long way of saying I've finished some knitting/spinning pictured below for your viewing pleasure:

Via Diagonale

Cascade 220, a little more than one ball each of tan and red

Tweaks: I cast on less stitches than the pattern, double-knit the handle for sturdiness, and felted the whole thing. It's a great, strong fabric - I see carrying spindles, etc. in it.

In closeup:

Spinning, spinning, and more spinning on the drop spindles:

1/2 lb Corriedale roving, two plied:

That's all of it above - it's something like 480 yards. My plying skills are improving - here's some lovely merino, about 94 yards:

I sent the same amount of this roving to my SP - can't wait to see what PixelDiva spins up with hers.

Gratuitous kitten picture - Bluefish in action:

In spinning - amazing. I have a spinning wheel! Putting it together and then attempting to work it sans experience AND any sort of manual or good reference book caused me to work up a sweat real quick. So I summoned all my grownup skills through the evening and: took a break after assembling the wheel to eat something so I wasn't trembling with both excitement and hunger, tried just treadle-ing for a while, then played with some sock yarn to get the feel of it, and then the Wensleydale top that came with the wheel for a bit. In my most adult move of the evening, I stepped away from the wheel before I hurt it or myself, remembered the same feeling when learning to drop spindle, and spent the rest of the evening gazing at its beauty and marvelling (reveling?) at just the mere fact that a spinning wheel is now living with me!

So, without further ado, the promised first attempt - the craptastic* yarn:

*The vocabulary I've learned through the knittyboards is so darned useful!

For some unknown reason, I've been waking up at 3AM, forcing myself to stay in bed til 4AM, and then getting up and having what feels like a full day before I have to go to work. This has been going on since Wednesday - ugh. But I've gotten a lot done - some spinning, almost a whole moebius shawl, and the beginnings of another funky cable sample. Plus lots of housework too, in prep for our holiday trip to a sunny place where we get to see both my family and DH's in one fell swoop. Couldn't have planned that better - we save tons on airfare.

The moebius - what magic - incredible stuff here. I wish my brain worked like Cat Bordhi's - how did she ever figure this out? It's Blue Heron Petite Rayon Boucle in Water Hyacinth - only a few more very long rows to go. I'll finish this on the plane.

In spinning news, after trying the Welsh Top that came with my wheel (it wasn't Wensleydale as previously reported, but hey, it was at least a w sound), which is very coarse and hairy and more to Indigo's liking than mine, I went thin with some unidentified dyed roving. I think I'm so worried about putting too much twist in that I'm not putting enough. Don't the colors in that wool look remarkably similar to the moebius? I see a trend here, and it's unconscious so far.

I've spent a lot of today cat proofing - Bluefish the wrecking ball hesitates at nothing. She jumped on the counter and up onto a shelf from there, which she rode down from the wall as it crashed into the lazy susan full of seasonings and the crock with all of my utensils in it. Amazingly, and lucky for the Fish, nothing broke. Can't imagine what trouble she'll get into while we're away.

In the final exciting news of the weekend, we have mice in our 81 year old house - imagine that. Mice bold enough to, in broad daylight, come up on my counter to munch on the cinnamon sugar that lives by the toaster. I didn't witness this - DH did, but I now understand it's not crickets that Bluefush lays in wait for in the kitchen, it's the mice she can hear behind the dishwasher. Fun. This is the first time in my whole life I can't call the landlord to get rid of the mice. One of the many things that reminds me I'm a grownup now. Not gonna think about it til after turkey. And I'll come home with a tan, which always makes me feel better, so I'm sure the solution will come to me then.

But you wouldn't know it by the 9.5 pounds of tomatoes I picked off my three Juliet vines this first weekend of December.

The bad news is that I picked them because we're probably done with warm spells for the year. The good news is that we're three weeks from days getting longer. Yes, most of them are green, and I have grand plans and at least $15 in new McCormick spices to pickle these babies. Feel free to chime in if you have any great tips or tricks. I do very little vegetable gardening as I'm the only one who'll eat them in this house, but I'm obsessive about my tomatoes. Grandpa and I loved to talk tomatoes and grocery shopping - he was the tomato man - and I loved to call him to tell him when my little seedlings had just started to smell like tomatoes - we were both so tickled by that and excited for the tomatoes to come. He even went into his grave two years ago with one of my homegrown slicers - felt more appropriate than a rose. I lost my Brandywines to blight early this summer, and the sweet little Juliets didn't kick into high grear until those sickly plants had been removed. Though I've enjoyed the little ones tremendously, I didn't manage to produce a single slicer, which means I didn't have a single perfect tomato sandwich this summer. I'm a purist - it MUST be white bread, a thick shmear of mayo, salt & pepper - that's it. It goes without saying that the tomato must be perfect, which has become an extinct thing anywhere. I've hit natural produce stores, farmers markets, and farm stands from the Outer Banks to DC and they all sell the same bland, odorless, tasteless tomato. Yuck.

Wish me luck - if these pickled green cherry tomatoes work, I could be done with Christmas gifts for a bunch of folks. Especially since I don't do Christmas. But that's another story.

But you wouldn't know it by the 9.5 pounds of tomatoes I picked off my three Juliet vines this first weekend of December.

The bad news is that I picked them because we're probably done with warm spells for the year. The good news is that we're three weeks from days getting longer. Yes, most of them are green, and I have grand plans and at least $15 in new McCormick spices to pickle these babies. Feel free to chime in if you have any great tips or tricks. I do very little vegetable gardening as I'm the only one who'll eat them in this house, but I'm obsessive about my tomatoes. Grandpa and I loved to talk tomatoes and grocery shopping - he was the tomato man - and I loved to call him to tell him when my little seedlings had just started to smell like tomatoes - we were both so tickled by that and excited for the tomatoes to come. He even went into his grave two years ago with one of my homegrown slicers - felt more appropriate than a rose. I lost my Brandywines to blight early this summer, and the sweet little Juliets didn't kick into high grear until those sickly plants had been removed. Though I've enjoyed the little ones tremendously, I didn't manage to produce a single slicer, which means I didn't have a single perfect tomato sandwich this summer. I'm a purist - it MUST be white bread, a thick shmear of mayo, salt & pepper - that's it. It goes without saying that the tomato must be perfect, which has become an extinct thing anywhere. I've hit natural produce stores, farmers markets, and farm stands from the Outer Banks to DC and they all sell the same bland, odorless, tasteless tomato. Yuck.

Wish me luck - if these pickled green cherry tomatoes work, I could be done with Christmas gifts for a bunch of folks. Especially since I don't do Christmas. But that's another story.

I did it - I pickled twelve pints of green tomatoes. In all their Ball-jar glory:

I used to do a lot of canning because I used to pick a lot of berries at one of my three favorite places in the world, Homestead Farm in Poolesville Maryland - heaven. I would go in work clothes and heels the moment their recording said the early glow strawberries were ready for picking. (I don't like cooked strawberries - these were just for eating.) Next came blackberries, followed closely by the raspberries. If I was lucky, the wonderful and charming farmer Ben, always in his red hat, would grant me access to his super special black raspberry patch - oh the jam I made from those beauties. Homestead always had a late raspberry field in August, and then came all the fun fall produce - apples, pumpkins, hay rides. I even got engaged in the strawberry patch there a gazillion years ago one early Saturday morning - terribly romantic but luckily, I didn't marry that guy. For some reason, that year I made jam with the strawberries we picked that morning and ick - never ate it. Should have been a sign.

Anyway, this time I treated myself to a canner (big splatter-ware pot with rack), which in all those years I never had, and it made the experience that much better. I don't think I've ever had pickled green tomatoes, but it sounded like a good thing to do, so when they've "cured" for a few weeks, I'll taste and decide if I can give them away. I was a devoted jam maker - inventing ways to reduce sugar by using natural pectins like apple peel and finely diced lemon rind - this is really a first for vegetables. The canner made the required hot water bath easy. I could see doing more of this, and as DH would say, now I have the tools and the talent!

This endeavor took an entire evening and so I have nothing fibery to tell you about. Next post...

I arrived home from work tonight to find a mystery package at my door from Purl Soho. I simply couldn't imagine what it could be or who would be so savvy to order me something from there. Opened it up to find, inside lovely pale blue tissue, the most amazing, iridescent, apricot/pink Lantern Moon silk taffeta bag and a set of Blue Sky Alpaca dpns from India - made of Surina wood and packeged in a gorgeous little tin. From my sister-in-law, who is my new knitting buddy all the way in snowy Michigan. Outta the blue! And things I wouldn't have bought for myself. We did see her over Thanksgivng, and the two of us immediately flopped on the floor and dumped out the knitting bags for show and tell. What fun!

I have been spinning - all of the lovely BFL from Spunky Eclectic, which is now two-plied and drying from the twist setting party yesterday. This is all my wheel-spun so far - 8oz of corriedale that's plied in lots of ways, and the winey wool shown recently below.

I'm still doing the too-little twist thing, both in plying and in the singles. I attempted a scientific method of splitting the roving into six sections and wrapping them up nicely, with the correct end to start with on top, and placed them gently in a big bowl next to my wheel. (DH strolled by and at first glance thought it was a bowl of water.) We know how good at science I am, so during the course of the several days I spun this lovely stuff, I needed the bowl for the pickling excercise, and simply lost complete track of which end was up on any of them. I achieved one stretch where the colors line up together pretty nicely, but the rest is all mixed up. Not that there's anything wrong with that - but not what I set out for. Gorgeous though! Now to figure out what to do with 220 yards of it. I'm simply not a knit hat wearer, except for my felted Bottoms Up Bucket hat that I'm wearing now, especially since my hairdresser took me veeery literally about "going short." We have a few variables for cutting my hair, the most important of which is how soon I'll be seeing my mom. Since I just saw her and it was long, (which for me means I need a brush) and of course, she commented on how she loved it like that even though it was winging out in the back and poofy over my ears. So I'm resorting to wearing a bit more makeup for a while to avoid looking like my hair's just growing in after chemo. Before and during shots - oh yeah - you forgot we were talking about spinning the BFL:

Haven't managed a good finished shot yet, and I haven't checked out wpi for any of my yarn, and I'm itching to make something with it. I can't bear the thought of felting fiber I've invested so much into making look like beautiful yarn - it seems like going backwards somehow. I'll likely do some sort of accessory-type scarf thing - nothing fancy.

I decided this weekend that one of the very few things as satisfying and gratifying as playing with fiber is home improvement/yardwork projects. We've been working very hard on landscaping for the past 8 months, and things are starting to look good. Come spring, they could look fabulous! I even, after lots of serious discussion with DH, did a leeeelte bit of Christmas decorating. We have no kids, we buy what we want/need all year, don't do organized religion, and so have no real connection to this holiday. I can't stand the pace and the stress in the air and the bad drivers and the general hysteria - it's been a while since we've done any decorating. I think the last time was in our apartment and we ended up draping greenery around the TV - pathetic. So anyway, we have this great house that we love, and in the end decided the only reason to decorate was because our house deserved it. Don't you hate when you've just read the whole story and then the blogger says "sorry, but I haven't gotten a good picture yet" so you have to come back to see it - as if! But, come back later, please - as soon as I have some light I'll snap one! And then don't be mad because it's really anticlimactic and silly that I'm so delighted by three wreaths with red bows, but I am.

Or any more ridiculous. Since I took this week between Christmas and New Year's off for the first time in my professional life, I have lots of time to be a) a slug in my pj's, b) a domestic goddess, and c) a mad spinner. Not bad - I know I could get used to this. DH is home with me too - nice. As I just paused to move the slide on my bobbin, I realized I was completely over-the-top silly, because: I'm wearing a new Christmas tie-dye from DH who finds the most amazing shirts at REI with my plaid flannel pj bottoms, I'm spinning up some lovely Wensleydale (I think), and we're watching the Neils (Diamond & Young) and Joni and Van the Man with The Band in The Last Waltz on cable. Could I be any more hippie-70s? For the record, I was born 10 years late in 1966 - but that's another story. For your viewing pleasure, and please do chuckle out loud:

Nice, huh? I think you're allowed to wear prints together if they're in the same color family, no? Isn't my Lendrum pretty?

I'm having one of those David Byrne "how did I get here" times. It really doesn't get much better than this life I've somehow ended up with. I have the very best husband, a fabulous house, two great cats (gratuitous shots below), family, a spinning wheel, and all the other comforts I could ask for. Really - how did I get here? If you knew where I was 20 and even 10 years ago you'd be as astounded as I am. I do believe that, in all the crap, the messes, the failures, the new starts, I've earned this, just like I've earned the gray hairs I'm culitvating.

Just to keep up the theme, I just finished plying the yarn above (spun to the Band) with Richie Havens doing Freedom in the Woodstock movie. Too much! I think it's the finest plying I've done yet - I should make sure to have brilliant tunes on for plying all the time.

The best cats - Indigo and the Bluefish:

Or any more ridiculous. Since I took this week between Christmas and New Year's off for the first time in my professional life, I have lots of time to be a) a slug in my pj's, b) a domestic goddess, and c) a mad spinner. Not bad - I know I could get used to this. DH is home with me too - nice. As I just paused to move the slide on my bobbin, I realized I was completely over-the-top silly, because: I'm wearing a new Christmas tie-dye from DH who finds the most amazing shirts at REI with my plaid flannel pj bottoms, I'm spinning up some lovely Wensleydale (I think), and we're watching the Neils (Diamond & Young) and Joni and Van the Man with The Band in The Last Waltz on cable. Could I be any more hippie-70s? For the record, I was born 10 years late in 1966 - but that's another story. For your viewing pleasure, and please do chuckle out loud:

Nice, huh? I think you're allowed to wear prints together if they're in the same color family, no? Isn't my Lendrum pretty?

I'm having one of those David Byrne "how did I get here" times. It really doesn't get much better than this life I've somehow ended up with. I have the very best husband, a fabulous house, two great cats (gratuitous shots below), family, a spinning wheel, and all the other comforts I could ask for. Really - how did I get here? If you knew where I was 20 and even 10 years ago you'd be as astounded as I am. I do believe that, in all the crap, the messes, the failures, the new starts, I've earned this, just like I've earned the gray hairs I'm culitvating.

Just to keep up the theme, I just finished plying the yarn above (spun to the Band) with Richie Havens doing Freedom in the Woodstock movie. Too much! I think it's the finest plying I've done yet - I should make sure to have brilliant tunes on for plying all the time.

The best cats - Indigo and the Bluefish:

My youngest sister (that's twin humor) greeted me yesterday on IM for my birthday with this exact line: "good morning birthday girl! you wearing a crown today you little freak?" And then I got an email from my best girlfriend three hours away that included in the first paragraph, "you are wearing your tiara, aren’t you?" Of course my twin WAS wearing her tiara many states away, and I sent her a feathery pink one just in case along with a magic wand for good measure. It's a long standing tradition - I don't see an end to it any time soon. No doubt you'll see me when I'm 70, with the same goofy smile, explaining that no, it's not a new fashion accessory, it's just my birthday.

Middle sister (the twin - just to tweak her) sent this funny little book:

Which I opened to the page on How to Make an Origami Crane. Now, I consider the origami crane a sort of personal totem, and both twin and I have folded them obsessively since early childhood crafts sessions with mom. I could do it blindfolded. I'm not sure if I just think I'm so cool when I whip one of them out sitting in a meeting from scrap paper or stickies, or if there's some deep-seated meaning in these cranes, but I do love 'em. Twin & I buy each other origami things on a regular basis. Okay, I already have one Hippie thing under my belt - what else? See all those flags? I went, page by page, through the book and all the green flags are the things I 've done, seen, read or currently do on a regular basis! The pink ones are things that are already on my list. It's conclusive proof that I was born ten years late - I really am a hippie. Or a yippie dink at least.

(I'm turning on Alice's Restaurant, another fabulous thing from 1966, right now just to complete the mood. Quick story - I once walked into a meeting to debut my new gigantic white board calendar system at work and said something about circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one to a room full of blank faces. That's probably be happening again now, right? The clue is there - figure it out.) My references are all out of whack with my age group - again I'll blame my hippie mom and her sister for their very strong influence. (Lucky me!) Another great one from How to Celebrate a Hippie Birthday - number one item - Watch Free to Be You and Me. Another personal anthem! How did they know so much about me? It went on and on - so silly, so much fun.

I think that might be when I took a detour from silliness and between Pat Metheny and Joni Mitchell I missed my dad and grandpa while pondering this aging stuff and reflecting on the impermanence of life. Seems like a switch was flipped in the last few years and the losses started coming with more regularity. Makes me wonder a lot about what mark I want to make and when the hell I'm going to get my a** in gear and go about making it. I'm certainly marinating on it. Another thing about getting older is that somehow I've reached the inversion point - where professionals I need are younger than me. Like my doctor, or lawyer, or whatever - I like those folks to be gray and wrinkly so I at least get the illusion of experience and wisdom. I switched doctors a few years ago because I was easily ten years older than my little teenaged doctor and it plain wigged me out.

And - will I spend the rest of my life being shocked that things like "I remember when" keep coming out of my mouth? Or "you know, twenty years ago...." They're playing 80s music on classic rock stations - that's just wrong! I mean, I can talk about the days before personal computers, cell phones, and DVD players in cars. That's my generation's "walked back and forth to school barefoot in the snow" - we couldn't hold a telephone conversation in line at Starbucks or email thank you notes. My first PC was a Mac Plus with the teeny tiny screen built in that breadbox sized package. It's not that I'm pining away for the past, or only looking back, but I am doing a considerable amount of reminiscing. Maybe it just means that I do have a lot of amazing memories. Does it get stronger every year, the same way time goes by faster every year?

I have two test swatches I should be knitting, but that silk just won't loosen its hold on me. It's an addiction - I think about it way too much and haven't stopped spinning/knitting/touching it since I began on New Year's Eve. I like to keep it in sight at all times. It's quite remarkable really, since I also can't stop thinking about the next couple things I want to cast on, including but not limited to: socks, a sweater from the Silk & Merino CTH, a turquoise moebius basket by request from the niece, and those swatches! TTFN

Discombobulated - I finished the shrug part of my second attempt at Tubey last night, and even though the sleeves still looked a tad large, they were smaller than the first time, so I picked up for the body anyway. I've been so disappointed in how my sweaters fit that I'm turning a corner and not being willing to put up with just okay, so I stop and check fit more often. So I checked - put all of those body stitches on a piece of scrap yarn and tried it on. Not even CLOSE. Now, I know I didn't get the recommended gauge, but I did the freakin' maths and knew what to do to sub my yarn when I started my second attempt. I did those maths on the first page of the pattern I printed, and your guess will be just as good as mine as to where that's gone. It's probably hanging out with the marked up pattern for the gorgeous fair isle gloves I'm supposed to be finishing for Fair Isle February. Yes, I could do the maths again, but that would certainly cause my feeble brain to explode since I've ALREADY DONE THE stupid maths. The sleeves currently make me look like a big pink gorilla, and the neckline is just indescribably bad. I really, really want to finish a sweater before Knitapalooza IV beginson March 16th.

I think it's the absence of the silk. It's the same empty feeling I get when I've just finished a really, really good book and there's nothing else in the queue. I've been noodling around with a bunch of different little things and I've found nothing particularly satisfying. I did finally fill one bobbin with the brown wool - now just have to spin two more. Seems like I've barely made a dent in this pound of wool. I'd show you a photo but it's been cloudy for days and my flash photos aren't worth posting....

Send me some good fiber vibes - gotta get my knit back on!

This just in - I ate the bad peanut butter for dinner last night. Just saw on the Today show that yes - I got some of the stuff being recalled for potential salmonella problems. I guess if I start doing the Linda Blair I'll know I got it. Supposedly takes up to 24 hours to hit - wheeeeeee.

There's a smidge of evidence that we're getting close to the greens and balmy breezes of spring around here, aside from those few days of fake-out spring last week. The daffodils are blooming:

Me and these weenie arms have finished a 6-foot scarf for the designer I test knit for, and when I hit publish I'm off to give it a bit of a block before sending it away. I've rejeuventated the CeCecardigan from ChicKnits, but I'm thinking perhaps the cotton is making me more sore. I need to get some socks on the needles for mindless knitting, and figure out what I need to do for Knittapalooza IV which is fast approaching.

Because that's about all I can manage.... Was it a full moon last night? I've got to find something to blame for my general malaise and lack of ability to concentrate. I have both start- and finish-itis, and I've unknit more than I've knit in the last few weeks. I did finish up a second bobbin of the brown wool - it's looking nice and I'm into the third already.

A forced hour in a waiting room while Captain America had a procedure Friday was a perfect time to blast through eleven rows of a fancy cable swatch that's been staring me down. Go figure that a place that requires, by signature, that the patient's driver remain in the waiting room for an hour has absolutely NOTHING interesting in the large, uncomfortable room. Remarkable really. Maybe they stopped stocking magazines because people walked out with them. Good thing I'm a knitter.

I has a bit of a bug scare this weekend when I wound some lovely Koigu that I purchased last fall. It was in bits and pieces:

Good things for Tuesday - I ordered a new desk chair at work that should arrive today, and then I get to see the neck cracker this afternoon, which also means I get to leave work a bit early. Silly thing - gotta go back there tomorrow anyway, but I looooove escaping before the bell.

I lovelovelove Daylight Savings Time. Twice last week I realized I was squinting in the car at lunch and giggled to myself that the sun was, indeed, zooming across the sky to spring. Both days I was in a funk driving back to the job I just don't want to do anymore, and as I realized it was zooming towards spring the first time, I Want Candy came on the radio and I blasted it and rocked out all the way back to work. The second day, I was giggling about squinting and Sledgehammer came on - another fabulous opportunity to rock out in the car, singing badly and loudly, to arrive at work smiling. Good stuff - sun and fun music.

So the switch this weekend was fabulous, and my simmering spring feisty-ness is in full force - enough force to propel me to do this:

I hope the return of the light may help my current scatterbrained approach to spring and spring cleaning. And knitting, and projects - too many to compute. I'm almost done with one Jaywalker sock, and while the leg was a lovely exercise in mindless knitting, my mind didn't want to cooperate so much on the foot. It's resting.

I started plying up my three bobbins of brown wool and zip-dang - it looks more like yarn than anything I've spun yet!

It's Knitapalooza weekend - and I'm going all three days again this year - my fourth. Three days of fabulous women (we've never had a man sign up) and guest teacher Sally Meville - I'm verklempt. This event somehow marks my knitting life, so while I didn't look back at New Year's, I'm now trying to figure out what the hell I've done since last year. I have no new sweater to wear, no new fabulous lace shawl to show off - all of a sudden it seems like I've done nothing since last year. Except learned to spin on a spindle, which started at Knitapalooza '06, procured copius amounts of fiber, and jumped with both feet onto the spinning wheel train. I've become a test knitter for a fabulous designer and knit countless complicated cable swatches and a six foot scarf for her. I've finished a few things, made two pairs of socks, felted lots of bags and moebious baskets, started both CeCe and Tubey twice - okay, I've actually done something. My Modesitt Lace Corset is on display helping to sell yarn at my LYS. And I will wear my hand-dyed, handspun, handknit Clapotis Saturday with pride bursting. And I will re-do the crochet neckline on my VK/Cherry Tree Hill Silk & Merino sweater from 2004 so I can wear it without fear of bra-straps or the jostling of a strapless bra. There - I feel better now - thanks for listening. Three days and counting!

My first crocus, that I planted in my very own yard - how satisfying!

You know, I've been trying to operate under the theory that if you open yourself up to a possibility, really let the universe know what you're after, it will respond. In yet another connected little experience, I got to attend a booksigning with Ellen Burstyn here on Sunday. It turned into a little question and answer session first, and since there were a ton of film students in the room and she's the President of the Board of the Actor's Studio, it turned into one of these Inside interviews... "My name is x and I'm a second-year actor and I was wondering how you prepare for a role like Requiem...." Ellen was lovely and sweet and funny just like you'd imagine her, and all of a sudden she was talking about her path, and the process she took in writing her first book, Lessons in Becoming Myself, and the tribe, and it was like she was talking directly to me. (It helped that, like the eager beaver I am, I sat right in the front.) All the ideas, the ways of being in the world she talked about are the things I'm thinking about - freaky really. I went because I was raised on Same Time Next Year and Alice doesn't Live Here Anymore and I'm so very glad I did! I got the book signed for my mom - the leader of my tribe, but I think I'll have to read it before I send it off. Thanks again, universe!

I've braved the largest fiber festival in the country and survived - what a scene. Getting dressed to mingle with several gazillion fiber freaks was like getting ready for a date, and I spent time laughing at myself as I made, and discarded, a name-tag so everyone out there who was dying to meet me would know who I was (the dork with the name badge), tried on several outfits to maximize the opportunity to show off handknits (dork trying too hard), and went with my usual long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans with my original Clapotis (for warmth).

I flew up to Baltimore to meet Captain America, the world's best husband. The TSA and vendors in the Norfolk airport must have been taking happy pills - everyone was grinning and by the time they had my knitting needles out of my bag, I had my foot up on the conveyor to show off the handknit socks I was wearing. I was in Southwest's B cattle call line, so I took a seat in the middle between a giant man and a tall man in the third row so I could get right off the plane. I'm a little skinny thing - the flight was less than an hour - cool.

CA was surprised at the loooong line of cars going into the fairgrounds - not me. We parked in another county, but it was a reasonable day and the walk was lovely. I know I read about a knitblogger who was going to be there in her yellow VW camper and CA spotted it - damned if I can remember but hey - great yellow camper!!

I lost my mind immediately as expected. Things I know about myself but choose to occasionally overlook for an event of this magnitude: I have trouble with visual overload. I have no sense of direction, so going into one building and coming out turned me completely around each time - good thing CA was in charge of steering. I'm not so good at crowds. I am incredibly indecisive and sometimes a little too practical for my own good. I needed absolutely nothing going in.

We did all the outside buildings (pavillions?) when we arrived. I was surprised at the amount of yarn - it never occurred to me that there were so many small producers out there. I hadn't given a thought to patterns, have tons of stash, and so didn't spend a lot of time looking at it, though I did accost someone in the STR line so I could question her about its mystique. (I'm not sure I figured it out - but I only saw her skein.) I was there for fiber, if anything, and I have to admit that not only was I worried that I might find something more delicious at the next turn, but that I was sure I'd do it wrong when it came to buying some. Didn't occur to me to observe - do you just pull a hunk of roving off the balls or out of the bags? Do you wait to be helped? These are things I need to learn before my next attempt.

About 45 minutes in, this called out to me, and I'm not even sure what it is beyond 3 2oz, carded batts - fluffy pink clouds of softness:

We ate a funnel cake, hit the exhibition halls for more stuff, stood in the loooong line for this (worth the wait):

I wonder if the S&W people would consider a day for claustrophobics like me - I didn't like cramming into the little booths....

We wandered out past these two characters - they win the silliest haircut prize:

A very sheepy, fibery, exciting festival - I'll go back. With a better plan, more research, and the hopes of actually taking a class. I feel like I'm still just at the outside edge of the spinning world - I need to break all the way into the circle (in my own mind anyway).

Or at least blogging from my corner of the couch, the place where all knitting and most other things happen in this house, because yes, I managed, finally, to get wireless! Zippity dooh dah. Here's how I did it: spent hours booting and rebooting and searching technical websites on the other computer over several weeks. Since about the second week of June I've taken a more desperate approach - avoiding the damned thing, and practically the whole room it was in altogether, with occasional delusions that if I just did that one thing, it would work, followed immediately with desperation and more avoidance. Until today, when I realized I could start with the lowest common denominator, the cheapest fix, and I bought a new adapter at Radio Shack (only because I was on a rare and stealth mission to the mall - no new summer purse, but a wireless card. I strongly dislike Radio Shacks, but I was desperate and braved the land of geeks.)

Anyway, $60 later, with absolutely no other pain whatsoever, here I am, in business on the couch. Yay me.

I have aboslutely nothing spectacular to talk about, and no fabulous new knitting to show you, so I took garden pictures. This is the clematis I hoped might be white:

I have a new dove pair on the porch - they spent most of this weekend deciding if it would work, building the pile of sticks that doves seem to prefer, and noodling around together up there. I don't think I wrote about the original mom, who was tending to her second set of eggs in the same spot. One morning in May, I was up at 4:30 and looked out the window to see her sleeping in the nest. I was knitting at 5AM when there was a horrible commotion and I ran to the window just in time to see the neighborhood alley cat making off with the mom dove. After he crashed the nest to the floor which crushed the eggs that were very near hatching. Awful. Horrible. I don't know why the universe decided I needed to see it all. I looked for her every time I went in or out for weeks. That event was the beginning of my apparently appointed role to bear witness to baby bird tragedies in the yard this spring - I found other unhatched and broken eggs and a baby who had probably fallen from the nest. I can only hope someday to know why I was chosen. So it's great that the doves are here - and I can now worry about them every time I come in and out.

I think the end is in sight with the cable swatches for Melissa Leapman - I believe I have the last two patterns in hand and one of them in process. When these are done, I will return to my little green tee. The design issue on the back has been rolling around and fermenting for a while and I think I know what I'll do to make it work, but my brain is a very dangerous place to keep this sort of thing, so I'm looking forward to pulling it out and getting to it.

Oh yeah - I've spun up a bobbin and a half more of the brown wool - not too exciting, but it's going swimmingly and I look forward to the day when CA wears it! I'm denying myself other spinning til I finish these three bobbins-full - that should give me close to 1,000 yards. I've found a rhythm with it and don't want to mess up by adding a different rhythm or fiber to the mix.

I've even made some inquiries around finding a way to make fiber my work... If you're reading and you're a yarn rep, I'd love to pick your brain!

Loads of them stacked up over the last two weeks. One might wonder if the week plus of vacation I've taken since the beginning of June might have something to do with it, but I'm not even going to wonder - just enjoy.

It started with my perfect drive up to NIH - somehow it seems to always rain on Thursday nights I drive up, and an hour into the trip, Mother Nature kept up her perfect record. By the time I hit my beloved Rock Creek Parkway after 9:30pm, it was deserted and dark and raining lightly, with eerie misty pockets sprinkled liberally along. Managing to drive Rock Creek all the way from the Memorial Bridge to East-West Highway in Bethesda is my own personal gauntlet every trip, and I haven't done well lately. Despite the mist and an urge to bear off too far to the right at one point, I emerged, triumphantly, right where I wanted to be. Victory one.

My NIH appointment began at 7am, and after the usual peeing in a cup to make sure I'm not pregnant (hah!), I waited til 8 to get in the BIG scanner. The Italian scientist was there again, grinning and apologetic for my last trip, fawning over me and thanking me for trying again. I was moments away from blissful ignorance when the nurse frowned as she made sure I knew this was a looong scan - almost two hours. Argh - the last thing I wanted to know was how long I had to cook. I was pooped from my drive and ready to sleep but no-ooooo, she had to go and tell me. The sweet-smelling Italian boy softened the blow ever-so-slightly, but I knew it would be a long haul. I think Ii probably slept a bit, but not much. I do little sing-songy chants along with the magnet's rhythmic banging, and practiced mind control, and tried to meditate to my breathing. I think I need a private breathing coach - a guru who could help me not freak out and start hyperventilating, or worrying I'm doing it wrong. I had zero deep thoughts, solved no world problems or even any of my own, but did stay still. Anyway, at 110 minutes in, Antonio came on the speaker and asked how I was doing - to which I groaned "how much longer?" He and the nurse both emphatically told me I could be done right then, but if I could manage 10 more minutes, they'd love to run one more scan. How could I not manage 10 more minutes in the name of science (and a cute scientist)? So I did, and I was done - and it was a full two hours. Victory two - but whew - won't repeat that anytime soon. Antonio was thrilled to have that extra scan as a control - the same as the one just before it to check consistency, and he happily told me that all was not lost from the 70 minutes I did beofre bailing the last time - they'd use all that too, and were in fact having several other guinea pigs repeat portions of the 3T MRI. Cool.

With only one scan to accomplish, I was outta there by 10:30 on Friday morning - the Friday before the 4th of July. I knew I had to be headed south on 95 before 2PM at the latest or I was in for a nightmare of tourist drivers beginning their treks to the beach, and I was determined to get to StitchDC on the Hill. In my usual manner, I had carefully studied the MapQuest directions at home, then printed them up for the drive, then carefully left them folded NEXT to my pocketbook. So they weren't there when I went for them. But, even knowing how poorly it turned out last time, I trusted my instincts and headed in the general direction. I stopped only at Whole Foods for a big bottle of good olive oil and a handful of their peppermint lip balm, since the last handful I bought have disappeared into pockets and cats' paws. I discovered, at just about the place those pesky instincts turned me around last time in a panic, that I had been headed straight for it on the last trip, and had I gone maaaybe 3 more blocks I would have been right there. So fine - I was there this time. All good. Even found a reasonable parking place and finally made it in. It's amazing how different the DC market is from my mid-sized town a few hours south - I think I only saw one or two familiar yarns, and the rest was an amazing collection of unusual, chi-chi, luxury, and/or luscious products. Having survived Rock Creek, a two-hour MRI, and the wilds of DC to get there, I lost my mind and walked out with a way-over-my-price-range Japanese jacket kit in linen paper from Habu. Lost. My. Mind. But it's so funky, and I will make it (someday, when I bump into it in my stash after a long line of other fabulous must-have projects). I'm not really sure what size it will be, and the Japanese charts will take some practice - but I'm up for some new forms of torture. Victory three.

Which meant I could cast on, for the third time, CeCe in caramel Butterfly cotton. While knitting with my friend on Thursday night - bonus. I've managed almost six repeats of the lace on the body so far - I think I'll only have to do nine before I start the sleeves. I even managed to get past my slip-stitch brain fart of the last attempt - I just don't know what came over me that time. Victory five!

Yep, that pesky neighborhood cat got the second nesting dove on my porch sometime between breakfast & lunch on Monday, and I just feel terrible. I knew the cat knew she was there, even though I haven't seen him since his massacre in May. I spent many nights falling asleep thinking about ways I could protect the dove - spikes, aluminium foil, a net, anti-varmint spray - but I did nothing. Mostly because I know you can't stop a cat on a mission... I had one of those cats who, back when I was making a lot of pottery, would not allow any other potter's work in my apartment. Anytime I brought something home, she'd find and "kill" it, smashing it to the floor. I bought a beautiful Malcolm Davis shino teapot - I was mad for it - and within 24 hours, my little Spike had found it, stashed on a high shelf behind lots of other pots, and smashed it.

Anyway, I feel like I set Momma Dove #2 up, and if any of her friends decide to investigate this lovely spot to make a nest, I will, even though the thought kills me, drive her away. Captain America is as sad about this as I am - we both enjoyed greeting her anytime we were on the porch and marveled at her tolerance and dedication as we watered plants hanging right next to her and generally banged around out there. RIP momma.

In fiber news, I'm up to the armpits on Cece, and boy, all that shaping in lace has tested my feeble brain! I persevere, and tonight I'll cast on for the sleeves - wheee! I also managed to fill another bobbin with CA's brown wool over the weekend - one more bobbin, a little plying, and I'm ready to make his vest. Whee again! And today I will mail off the final six cable swatches for Melissa Leapman - big WHEEEE!

Literally. This hermit and her husband had a houseguest recently, and it's amazing what having someone come to stay does for one's view of their abode. What I mean by that is that it forces one to actually see the two giant televisions hanging out in their living space, and to decide that the foil allegedly keeping the maniac Bluefish out of the plants is not a particularly appealing design feature, and.... you get the idea. We've lived in this house for two years and have escaped any guests - amazing. Preparing for our houseguest (the easiest kind possible - my mom) also meant that, after two years trying to decide how to furnish our sunroom, we, at the last minute, ordered some wicker furniture from Pottery Barn. Which mostly arrived in time, except for the chairs. We also had to get a bed for the guest room, so we bought a platform (formerly known as a box spring - I won't make that mistake again after being corrected several times by the salesman) and ordered one of those all memory foam mattresses online only from Costco. That didn't arrive in time either - we put an air mattress on that platform instead.

Mom's visit also meant a lot of cleaning things that I don't do so regularly - like dusting and waxing the many oak surfaces in the house (much wax on/wax off action), mopping the wood floors, putting things away, and a whole load of throwing things away. I lucked out one day when I came home for lunch to find the charity truck picking up next door, so I foisted several bags of stuff on him, and came home the next day to find the same neighbor had called for a special trash pick-up, so I was able to dump a big old wing chair on her pile - whee! Serendipity in the 'hood - good stuff.

All of this cleaning of course tourqued my right shoulder, even though I tried to make my left arm participate as much as possible. But my left arm just isn't as good or as fast as my right, and my right gets all pissy and grabs the sponge/mop/whatever saying "just give it to me already" every time. I'm surprised I don't hear more people complaining about this defect in the human body - one arm has to do all the work. Just doesn't seem fair.

Anyway, it's amazing, once everything's put away, how fabulous our house is, and how much I want to keep it this nice. I'm definitely a graduate of the Oscar Madison school of housekeeping, so I'm trying to just put things away. I was ruined in third grade - remember Free to be You and Me? I did the Carol Channing Housework skit, decked out in a bandana and overalls with a bucket 'o cleaning stuff, in a school assembly. I memorized the whole thing - I'm in awe of my third grade self hearing it again after all these years. Have a listen - priceless!

I rewarded myself after accomplishing cleaning tasks every night with a few rows of CeCe - some reward to do shaping in lace! It is amazing though to note my progress as a Knitter - I started this almost a year ago and even since then have learned to read my knitting so much better. A mistake that sidelined CeCe a year ago was manageble this time around. Don't tell anyone I said that though, or the Knitting Gods will strike me down for feeling cocky! So I finished it this weekend - gotta block it before it makes its debut. Maybe on someone else if it stays as large as it looks. Call me Goldilocks - always too small, or too big.

I know it's goofy, but I've impressed myself with this blog all year, and I still have absolutely NO idea how to work the darned thing! Thanks to my amazing blog hostess, Becky of prettyposies.com, I'm up and stumbling in MovableType now. Stay tuned - I may even take a class!

I've been nominated as a Rockin Girl Blogger - imagine that!

My sister in fiber and newly published designer, Mel bestowed this honor upon me - fun. How'd she know that one of my secret fantasies is to be a rocker? Specifically a cool chick bass player? Might have happened too, had I not loaned the three-quarter bass that one boy gave me to another boy down the road who started a band and never gave it back. That and the fact that I'm not particularly musical. Anyway, a Rockin Girl Blogger works just fine thankyouverymuch Mel! Passing it on, I nominate the following fiber folks who rock my world:

My first Knittyboard Spinning Secret Pal, The Linnet Knits
A fellow DIY gutter cleanin