... my knitting mojo. Has anyone seen it? I've looked under the bed, behind the couch, in my stash, all the usual places it might be hiding, but no luck. I just had a whole week off work for knitting, and hardly knit anything.
I'd planned to finish Weaving Friend's wedding shawl. Knit 4 rows. Planned to finish Grammy's Christmas present. Knit 1 repeat. Planned to make chutney. Ok, I did make chutney. A lot of chutney. About 7 litres, in fact. And I washed some fleece, did a wee bit of spinning on the froghair and carded some of the Jacobs fleece. So the week wasn't a total waste.
See, I spent most of it sick. Not badly sick, just enough of a headcold that I couldn't breathe whenever I laid down and so didn't really get much sleep. I'm better now. Today I cast on for a Calorimetry with some very well-aged stash yarn in the hopes that a quick FO will respark my interest. I've knit about half of it this afternoon. I'm feeling cautiously optimistic. Mojo had better resurface soon, because Weaving Friend's coming to visit at the end of November and I'm handing the shawl over then, come hell or high water.
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Friday, 21 October 2011
Apologies
I have today been informed that at some point Blogger ate my settings and was only allowing people with Blogger/Google accounts to comment. Sorry about that. I've fixed it now and you should all be able to comment now.
Thank you, Alison, for letting me know!
Thank you, Alison, for letting me know!
Saturday, 15 October 2011
SPARKLES!
I finished spinning up my sparkle roving, at long last, and I am absolutely thrilled with it.
The roving was Fyberspates Sparkle roving, long since discontinued. They don't even seem to sell roving anymore. It's a blend of some sort of wool, silk and silver filament. There may be nylon in there as well, but I won't swear to it. From the smell of it when it was wet I'm pretty sure that the wool was BFL.
I bought this roving last summer at Knit Nation. It's been maturing in my stash ever since. The arrival of the fleeces is inspiring me to spin up some of the older stash, so watch this space for future developments!
Once I'd opened the bag of roving, I realized that it was actually four or five different colourways that had been bagged together. Not a problem, since the colours worked together well enough that I hadn't realized they weren't supposed to go together until I examined them in detail. I arranged the bits of roving so that the colours were mostly evenly distributed and then spun them up into a worsted singles. Worsted-spun, that is, not worsted-weight.
I'd pondered keeping it as a singles, but Weaving Friend convinced me that something plied would be more useful. So, having established that all 80g would fit onto a single bobbin, I set off plying. I'd forgotten that plied yarn takes up more space than singles - it was a bit of a job getting it all onto the bobbin!
I am completely besotted with this yarn. The little voice in my head of my inner child says "OMGOMGIT'SPURPLEANDGREENANDPINKANDITSPARKLES!!!!!!" My sensible adult self is rather pleased at discovering the capacity of her bobbins and is looking forward to seeing how the finished yarn stripes.
Vitals: 80g, 395 yards of n-plied fingering-weight yarn. With sparkles.
The roving was Fyberspates Sparkle roving, long since discontinued. They don't even seem to sell roving anymore. It's a blend of some sort of wool, silk and silver filament. There may be nylon in there as well, but I won't swear to it. From the smell of it when it was wet I'm pretty sure that the wool was BFL.
I bought this roving last summer at Knit Nation. It's been maturing in my stash ever since. The arrival of the fleeces is inspiring me to spin up some of the older stash, so watch this space for future developments!
Once I'd opened the bag of roving, I realized that it was actually four or five different colourways that had been bagged together. Not a problem, since the colours worked together well enough that I hadn't realized they weren't supposed to go together until I examined them in detail. I arranged the bits of roving so that the colours were mostly evenly distributed and then spun them up into a worsted singles. Worsted-spun, that is, not worsted-weight.
I'd pondered keeping it as a singles, but Weaving Friend convinced me that something plied would be more useful. So, having established that all 80g would fit onto a single bobbin, I set off plying. I'd forgotten that plied yarn takes up more space than singles - it was a bit of a job getting it all onto the bobbin!
I am completely besotted with this yarn. The little voice in my head of my inner child says "OMGOMGIT'SPURPLEANDGREENANDPINKANDITSPARKLES!!!!!!" My sensible adult self is rather pleased at discovering the capacity of her bobbins and is looking forward to seeing how the finished yarn stripes.
Vitals: 80g, 395 yards of n-plied fingering-weight yarn. With sparkles.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
In memoriam
Once upon a time there was a lady who was a knitter, and that knitter had a cat, and that cat's name was Darcy. Darcy was really a kitten, but he was already a prince among cats. He was a Maine Coon Cat, and his ear-tufts stood up straight as a pine tree. His feet were great white snowshoes, and his ruff was the envy of mighty lions.
His coat was grey and white, and his toes and sandpaper tongue were pink. But it is not enough to say that, as it would be insufficient to say that the sunrise is red. Darcy's coat was the grey of the soft ash left from burning incense and the white of clouds and fog. His tongue and toes were the soft pink of rose petals, freshly picked and awaiting the perfume press.
The knitter loved Darcy, and Darcy loved the knitter. And, generous soul that she was, the knitter shared Darcy with other knitters. And those knitters loved Darcy too - and who would not? Was he not a prince among cats?
Day after day, the knitters would flock, eagerly demanding new pictures of Darcy. And the lady would provide them, and all were happy.
Darcy had scrapes, as all kittens do, but cats are blessed with nine lives, and Darcy was no exception. He would find himself hurting, but the kind knitter loved him very much and would always take him to the clever vet. The clever vet, who also loved Darcy, took very good care of him, and Darcy always came home feeling better, if a little sorry for himself.
One day, however, Darcy got sick. This was a bad kind of sick, the kind of sick that clever vets cannot fix however clever they are. Sometimes cats get better, and sometimes they don't, but no-one can say which will.
The knitter was sad, and she told the other knitters about Darcy and his sickness. The other knitters loved Darcy, and so they did what they could. The ones who prayed, prayed. The ones who were superstitious crossed their fingers and held their thumbs and sent mojo. The ones who did neither sent best wishes and love to the knitter and Darcy. Some of the knitters who lived nearby went to help. Others, who lived far away, sent what they could to help the clever vet and the knitter, because clever vets have to be paid, even when they are generous and help sick cats for less than they might.
One of the many knitters who loved Darcy was a dyer with magical powers. One day, she took her dyes and worked a magic spell to turn plain old wool into something amazing - wool that looked like Darcy. She saw the results of her magic and thought, "I wonder if the other knitters would like to buy this wool? If they did, I could send money to the clever scientist who is working on a cure for this bad sickness, and then even if it won't help Darcy, maybe it will help other cats."
So the dyer showed the wool to the knitters, and they loved the wool. Those who knit bought yarn, and those who spin bought roving. And the dyer sent all of her profits to help the clever scientist with her research.
Alas, there are some things that no amount of love can cure, and Darcy died. The knitters wept, but nothing could bring back this prince of cats. The knitters held close their cats, and dogs, and rabbits, and all manner of creatures, for knitters love animals without question, and though they were sad that Darcy was gone, they had hope that other cats would be spared his fate.
And so I sit before my spinning wheel, looking into a basket full of spinning fiber. There is a roving that is the grey of incense ash, the white of clouds, the pink of rose petals and toes and sandpaper tongues. When I reach into the bag, it is like stroking the softest of kittens.
I cannot yet bring myself to spin this roving. Someday I will, and I will make it into a beautiful thing, in memory of another cat, much missed. For now it is enough to look upon it. It was dyed to honour a prince of cats. His name was Darcy, and he was loved.
His coat was grey and white, and his toes and sandpaper tongue were pink. But it is not enough to say that, as it would be insufficient to say that the sunrise is red. Darcy's coat was the grey of the soft ash left from burning incense and the white of clouds and fog. His tongue and toes were the soft pink of rose petals, freshly picked and awaiting the perfume press.
The knitter loved Darcy, and Darcy loved the knitter. And, generous soul that she was, the knitter shared Darcy with other knitters. And those knitters loved Darcy too - and who would not? Was he not a prince among cats?
Day after day, the knitters would flock, eagerly demanding new pictures of Darcy. And the lady would provide them, and all were happy.
Darcy had scrapes, as all kittens do, but cats are blessed with nine lives, and Darcy was no exception. He would find himself hurting, but the kind knitter loved him very much and would always take him to the clever vet. The clever vet, who also loved Darcy, took very good care of him, and Darcy always came home feeling better, if a little sorry for himself.
One day, however, Darcy got sick. This was a bad kind of sick, the kind of sick that clever vets cannot fix however clever they are. Sometimes cats get better, and sometimes they don't, but no-one can say which will.
The knitter was sad, and she told the other knitters about Darcy and his sickness. The other knitters loved Darcy, and so they did what they could. The ones who prayed, prayed. The ones who were superstitious crossed their fingers and held their thumbs and sent mojo. The ones who did neither sent best wishes and love to the knitter and Darcy. Some of the knitters who lived nearby went to help. Others, who lived far away, sent what they could to help the clever vet and the knitter, because clever vets have to be paid, even when they are generous and help sick cats for less than they might.
One of the many knitters who loved Darcy was a dyer with magical powers. One day, she took her dyes and worked a magic spell to turn plain old wool into something amazing - wool that looked like Darcy. She saw the results of her magic and thought, "I wonder if the other knitters would like to buy this wool? If they did, I could send money to the clever scientist who is working on a cure for this bad sickness, and then even if it won't help Darcy, maybe it will help other cats."
So the dyer showed the wool to the knitters, and they loved the wool. Those who knit bought yarn, and those who spin bought roving. And the dyer sent all of her profits to help the clever scientist with her research.
Alas, there are some things that no amount of love can cure, and Darcy died. The knitters wept, but nothing could bring back this prince of cats. The knitters held close their cats, and dogs, and rabbits, and all manner of creatures, for knitters love animals without question, and though they were sad that Darcy was gone, they had hope that other cats would be spared his fate.
And so I sit before my spinning wheel, looking into a basket full of spinning fiber. There is a roving that is the grey of incense ash, the white of clouds, the pink of rose petals and toes and sandpaper tongues. When I reach into the bag, it is like stroking the softest of kittens.
I cannot yet bring myself to spin this roving. Someday I will, and I will make it into a beautiful thing, in memory of another cat, much missed. For now it is enough to look upon it. It was dyed to honour a prince of cats. His name was Darcy, and he was loved.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Fiber pr0n
A sample of my current spinning:
Cochineal-dyed silk thread
Corrie/Merino
BFL/silk
SW Merino/nylon
SPARKLEE singles
SPARKLEE after plying
Cochineal-dyed silk thread
Corrie/Merino
BFL/silk
SW Merino/nylon
SPARKLEE singles
SPARKLEE after plying
Wednesday, 28 September 2011
On sheep
Once again my flat smells of sheep, for I have once again acquired vast quantities of raw fleece! This time it's three entire fleeces.
You see, one of the side effects of reenacting is that people tend to offer reenactors stuff that might be useful. Sometimes it's a box of buttons, or some fabric, or some scraps of leather. Other times, it's a gigantic bag full of Jacobs fleece. In this case, a distant relation of one of our members has a flock of Jacobs sheep and gave her this bag of sheepy goodness. At present I'm the only handspinner in our branch, so I get the fleeces. We are, however, plotting and scheming with a major long-term project, since I obviously need more of those in my life.
This friend, Cooking Friend, is a rather splendid embroideress. And Weaving Friend, of course, is quite brilliant at weaving. And I am a spinner. So, we are going to take this lovely fleece and between us turn it into a set of three hoods. I shall wash, prep and spin the fleece. Weaving Friend will weave it into cloth. Cooking Friend will sew and embroider the hoods. And when all of this is done, we shall enter our work into an Arts and Sciences competition. A&S requires documentation, so I shall be photoblogging the whole process with an eye to eventual process write-ups.
Today was nice and sunny, so I hauled the whole lot out into the garden for skirting and sorting. I wasn't initially sure how much fleece there was, or whether it had been skirted and/or washed. The bag itself weighed about 6kg. Contents included one solid chocolate fleece which I'm pretty sure is actually a cross, since Jacobs sheep are chocolate-and-white. This fleece was very coarse and may not be worth the trouble of spinning. There were also two entire Jacobs fleeces, both well-shorn but poorly rolled so the body shape was not intact. Distribution of chocolate fleece and white fleece was about 50/50 on both fleeces, and both colours had consistent crimp, staple length, and texture. It would seem that all three fleeces had already been skirted, since I found almost no dags. One of the Jacobs had dye markings in a small area. Probably washable, but I decided to chuck it rather than fight with it. It wasn't very much of the fleece. A fair amount of plant matter in all three, though it's chiefly straw and not brambly stuff.
I've separated out the white and chocolate sections of the Jacobs. Since I couldn't see the outline of the fleece I made no attempt at sorting it beyond that. Very little freckling, which is fabulous. At this point, I'm going to wash a couple of handfuls of both colours from both fleeces and spin up a sample. There's more grease than I was expecting, so we'll see how well they wash up. I'll also need to liaise with both of the ladies to see what the eventual plans are. I'll definitely keep some of the white separate for turning into dyed embroidery thread, but I'm not sure whether we want black-and-white hoods or something blended.
Weaving-wise, it'll be a 2-ply for certain. I'll need to get Weaving Friend to tell me the desired weight and the amounts needed. I'll probably spin it up into something semi-worsted. The staple's long enough for combing, but the finished fabric will be nicer if it's a bit fluffier.
You see, one of the side effects of reenacting is that people tend to offer reenactors stuff that might be useful. Sometimes it's a box of buttons, or some fabric, or some scraps of leather. Other times, it's a gigantic bag full of Jacobs fleece. In this case, a distant relation of one of our members has a flock of Jacobs sheep and gave her this bag of sheepy goodness. At present I'm the only handspinner in our branch, so I get the fleeces. We are, however, plotting and scheming with a major long-term project, since I obviously need more of those in my life.
This friend, Cooking Friend, is a rather splendid embroideress. And Weaving Friend, of course, is quite brilliant at weaving. And I am a spinner. So, we are going to take this lovely fleece and between us turn it into a set of three hoods. I shall wash, prep and spin the fleece. Weaving Friend will weave it into cloth. Cooking Friend will sew and embroider the hoods. And when all of this is done, we shall enter our work into an Arts and Sciences competition. A&S requires documentation, so I shall be photoblogging the whole process with an eye to eventual process write-ups.
Today was nice and sunny, so I hauled the whole lot out into the garden for skirting and sorting. I wasn't initially sure how much fleece there was, or whether it had been skirted and/or washed. The bag itself weighed about 6kg. Contents included one solid chocolate fleece which I'm pretty sure is actually a cross, since Jacobs sheep are chocolate-and-white. This fleece was very coarse and may not be worth the trouble of spinning. There were also two entire Jacobs fleeces, both well-shorn but poorly rolled so the body shape was not intact. Distribution of chocolate fleece and white fleece was about 50/50 on both fleeces, and both colours had consistent crimp, staple length, and texture. It would seem that all three fleeces had already been skirted, since I found almost no dags. One of the Jacobs had dye markings in a small area. Probably washable, but I decided to chuck it rather than fight with it. It wasn't very much of the fleece. A fair amount of plant matter in all three, though it's chiefly straw and not brambly stuff.
I've separated out the white and chocolate sections of the Jacobs. Since I couldn't see the outline of the fleece I made no attempt at sorting it beyond that. Very little freckling, which is fabulous. At this point, I'm going to wash a couple of handfuls of both colours from both fleeces and spin up a sample. There's more grease than I was expecting, so we'll see how well they wash up. I'll also need to liaise with both of the ladies to see what the eventual plans are. I'll definitely keep some of the white separate for turning into dyed embroidery thread, but I'm not sure whether we want black-and-white hoods or something blended.
Weaving-wise, it'll be a 2-ply for certain. I'll need to get Weaving Friend to tell me the desired weight and the amounts needed. I'll probably spin it up into something semi-worsted. The staple's long enough for combing, but the finished fabric will be nicer if it's a bit fluffier.
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Full-Cupboard Sunday
I don't remember where I first read the expression "full-cupboard feeling", but I've loved it ever since. It's the sensation of knowing that your kitchen and pantry are stocked and in order. Today I am having a day of feeling like that!
I spent yesterday yarning while the spouse was out at an event. The loom is warped, at last. I ripped out some things that I wasn't enjoying working on. I did a bit of cross-stitch, a bit of spinning, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.
Today, my projects in order, I decided to hit the kitchen. We did a big grocery shopping trip and then I settled in to cooking. Although I love cooking, I do very little. The nature of spouse's work means that he is often home, so he does most of our cooking. I am in charge of batch cooking, to make sure that we always have things in the freezer for packed lunches and quick suppers.
Today I have prepped 1.5kg of carrots (half shredded for my lunches and half chopped for stir-fry), baked three-and-a-half dozen banana muffins for breakfasts, and I'm making a big batch of rice to freeze. I'll line the rice compartment of my bento box with cling-film, pack the rice in, then freeze the resulting parcels. They can then be popped in and microwaved from frozen at work, along with whatever else I decide to put in my box.
Tomorrow or Tuesday I shall be dealing with 2.1kg of beef mince. I'm planning to make portion-sized meatloaves, Swedish meatballs and cabbage rolls, again all to be frozen.
Tonight, however, I shall be updating my clippings cookbook, spinning, and watching yesterday's Doctor Who.
I spent yesterday yarning while the spouse was out at an event. The loom is warped, at last. I ripped out some things that I wasn't enjoying working on. I did a bit of cross-stitch, a bit of spinning, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.
Today, my projects in order, I decided to hit the kitchen. We did a big grocery shopping trip and then I settled in to cooking. Although I love cooking, I do very little. The nature of spouse's work means that he is often home, so he does most of our cooking. I am in charge of batch cooking, to make sure that we always have things in the freezer for packed lunches and quick suppers.
Today I have prepped 1.5kg of carrots (half shredded for my lunches and half chopped for stir-fry), baked three-and-a-half dozen banana muffins for breakfasts, and I'm making a big batch of rice to freeze. I'll line the rice compartment of my bento box with cling-film, pack the rice in, then freeze the resulting parcels. They can then be popped in and microwaved from frozen at work, along with whatever else I decide to put in my box.
Tomorrow or Tuesday I shall be dealing with 2.1kg of beef mince. I'm planning to make portion-sized meatloaves, Swedish meatballs and cabbage rolls, again all to be frozen.
Tonight, however, I shall be updating my clippings cookbook, spinning, and watching yesterday's Doctor Who.
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