Snipe hunt

One of the perks of living so close to my parents is that we have the same mailman. Ron the Mailman has been delivering the mail in our area for over 20 years, which is kind of awesome. He has watched the families grow and change, and in our case, grow up and start our own family. He has also heard me caterwauling singing in the shower, and thinks I'm pretty good.

Mailman Ron and I have a special relationship. He will tuck large packages behind our gate and leave a note in the box (when we get them), if something needs a signature, he'll take it to my parents' house and have them sign for it instead of making me find time to head over to the post office for a pickup. Let's suffice it to say that Mailman Ron always has my back.

I always know when we have a substitute mail carrier. Mostly because they are terrible, slow, misdeliver a LOT of mail, and most of all - they aren't Mailman Ron.

Mailman Ron is married to a lapsed weaver. He thinks all of my "wool mail" is hilarious because, let's face it, if it's not actually yarn or roving, it's books/needles/notions for my knitting. He doesn't really get why I spend all this time knitting and spinning when I could be *weaving*. He was over the moon when I told him earlier this year that I was officially a weaver.

Fast forward to yesterday. Andrew and I have been getting bids on how much it's going to cost to install some desperately needed cabinets in our garage. (Remember Project Workspace?) While one of the sales folks was figuring out our estimate, Mailman Ron walked up us sitting in the open garage. The garage that was positively GAPING, exposing the neighborhood to All of Our Things. It's tidy, so I don't feel too bad about it, but I felt a little naked. If that makes any sense.

(Let's face it, there are *much* worse things we could store in our garage. Use your imagination.)

Two of the looms (the table loom and the Gilmore X-frame loom) live in the garage right now, and are on the garage door side- clearly visible when the door is open. Apparently, Mailman Ron's wife had a mystery loom in their attic, and he had been searching for the missing parts. (He had been hunting for legs. For a table loom.)

After a quick peek at the two looms, and a short conversation, his mystery was solved. I'm not going to tell you how long he's been looking for the missing legs on that loom.

Long enough that it will be a while before that's a funny story for them, that's for sure.

Oooh... pretty colors...

First, I would like to say how surprised I am to find out that I'm not alone in my heresy. Everyone made me feel much better about (what I felt) was speaking against popular opinion. You guys ROCK!

I've been talking about how much I've been spinning. I mentioned how I'm a mad scientist with a need for bright colors.

I present, the fruits of my labors:

I love how cheerful it is. There will be purple in the rainbow, but my attempt at purple failed. See:

Not quite purple enough to fit the rest of my theme. I'm not saying that I don't like it; it just isn't the right purple for my day-glo rainbow.

I had a couple of things in my stash that fit the need for "bright and cheerful" while I was dyeing up my 1980s childhood masterpiece.

First was "I Feel Free" from Crown Mountain Farms:

It's not a color I would normally pick for myself, but I think this is going to grow up to be a pair of Mad Color Weave Socks.

I'm finding myself drawn to the more monochromatic roving in my stash, which is unusual for me. I'm a high-contrast, multi-colored kind of girl. It seems that I like to knit plain, monochromatic yarns rather than the stuff that really appeals to me as a spinner. It's a process of finding a happy medium.

It's a Ribby Process

For a month or so, I’ve been in a knitting lull. I haven’t been knitting as much as I normally do, and I’ve been a little unenthusiastic about it as well. Everything I really wanted to work on was on hold because of something small.

Jasmin 2008 reappeared yesterday. She must have been on vacation this last week, but she’s back. I figured out how to knit the sleeves on my Ribby Cardi top-down, and I am nearly finished with BOTH sleeve caps.

This is simple, but the task makes me feel incredibly smart, and my sleeves always end up the right length. Having short arms means less knitting, but more thinking. It’s a trade-off.

I like to knit my sleeves at the same time, partly because in the event of Project Abandonment, both sleeves will (optimistically speaking) get finished the same way. I also like to knit my sleeves in the round to minimize the finishing.

The zipper has been bought, and once the sleeves are done and attached, Mom will be able to attach it and BAM! The sweater is done. I think that’s enough motivation to actually finish it.

I’m pretty excited about finishing a sweater- I don’t think I’ve finished a sweater in the last year. Half a dozen lace shawls, yes. Sweaters? No. I’ve also given away all but one of the sweaters that I’ve knit for myself.

Its funny how we evolve as knitters; ten years ago I was knitting six pairs of socks a month. Five years ago, I was knitting two pairs of socks a week and finishing a dozen large projects a year. Now, I’m spending more time spinning than knitting.

Sweaters don’t really take that much time; most of the sweaters I knit are out of worsted weight yarn. Even a sock can seem interminable- or maybe that’s just in my case, when I’m knitting Andrew’s giant socks.

Speaking of which, I finished off Pair #4 of the Black Sock Project on Friday night:

Once I finish Pair #5 of the Black Sock Project:

Andrew has requested that I begin the “Tan Sock Project”. My love for this man may be without limit.

Updates, Earthquakes, and Headaches

I am a terrible blogger. I let work get in the way of the blog. But, until this blog turns into a book deal, off to work I go. Part of what keeps me from blogging is lack of photos.

Until about a year and a half ago, this was a text-only blog. BO-ring! I find that I like reading blogs that have pictures better, and I don't want poorly lit, blurry pictures. I try to keep my photo quality high; I do decent work, and I want it to be an accurate representation online. Some of you readers don't see me in person, so what's the use of posting a crappy picture?

I normally try to take pictures when the light is good, which is increasingly challenging as the days become shorter. Still, I do my best.

I've begun plying "Wild Thing", which is now 75% superwash merino, 25% silk (for you who don't like math, that's 3 plies of the Crown Mountain, one of the Susan's Spinning Bunny Silk). It's a light fingering weight, which just means that I need to chill out when I'm spinning.

I'm still fixated on lace, but one of my projects is making me want to rip out my hair. I'm not going to go into detail, but how can SUCH a simple lace pattern require so much brainpower?! I have 8 repeats to go, plus edging. This is totally do-able. I just have to do it.

I was the lucky recipient of an Alison (yes, that Alison!) shawl. I think the yarn is Lisa Souza's superwash, in Valentine. The pattern is "Bigfoot", which is on my list of things to start. Photos of the shawl are pending. When I showed Mom the shawl I said, "MINE. You have your own Alison shawl."

I've been working on the Argyle 2 socks, which bleed like a mofo and turn my hands blue, but I'm down to the heel on #2, so those are almost done. A guy at the chiropractor's office commented on it.

"Wow, you'd think you came to the chiropractor to knit," he says, looking at my sock. Yeah, we'd been waiting for maybe 15 minutes.

"It keeps me patient," I say, "This whole sock has been knit while I've been waiting in different places."

He looks at the sock, and huffs at the tangibility of (what I like to call) "line-time". ("Line-time" is like the space-time continuum, but different. It's full of physics.)

"There's no getting around waiting; at the end I'll have a pair of socks," I said, feeling very Zen about the whole thing.

A few hours later, the earth shook below our feet (5.6!), and I learned that instant messenger won't crash when everyone is on it, but the phones will. After trying to get in touch with people by phone for an hour, I assumed my friends and loved ones were fine, and went back to watching TV and plying.

I'm all heart, I know.

I am the grandest nerd that ever there was

It's true.

Last night, I was folding laundry in the bedroom, with the TV on, and the preview for this week's CSI came on, and Lady Heather is making another appearance on the show.

I shrieked, having missed 90% of the spoiler due to folding, fly down the stairs (to my laptop) and cue up the preview that they posted online. Andrew asked what all the excitement was about, and I was like "Lady Heather! CSI! *squeal!*"

This was akin to the squealing I did in middle school over Dean Cain, from my favorite show (at that point), Lois & Clark. That's right, folks. I was the President of the Superman club. Jealous? I know you are.

My life doesn't revolve around CSI (I *heart* Tivo!), but damn do they have good looking men. Although the writing borders on horrid occasionally, it's a good kind of horrid. Except for when they referred to the fiber from goats as "angora".

Quick fiber lesson for non-nerds:

Angora comes from Angora bunnies. It's horribly expensive, and I am wickedly allergic to it.

Mohair comes from Mohair Goats. It's a breed of goat, like Merino is a breed of sheep.

Cashmere comes from Angora Goats. The higher altitude the goats live, the better quality the cashmere is. I know it's confusing, but seriously, it's not.

Aside from the "angora" episode that left me twitching, I enjoy the CSI. Can we talk about Nick Stokes' Super Trooper hair and mustache? Ick. If it weren't for his man creases, I would be entirely uninterested. Grissom I'll take bearded, unbearded, whatever, and Greg Sanders in any shade of "wierdness". (Sorry, I've been to Berkeley, I've seen wierder.)

On the same nerdly vein, I love Excel. It's magical to make graphs out of data.

So yeah, Andrew was a little surprised that I squealed over a TV show. Oh, and we're going to see Ron White when he comes to town.

.....They call me TATER SALAD!

Cashmere... ooooh

On Thursday, Mom went to Costco to purchase Diana Gabaldon's new book, A Breath of Snow and Ashes, which they had for $15.

While she was there, Mom found cashmere turtleneck sweaters for $60 each. She called me and asked what colors I wanted, so she listed off what they had, and I got all of them. These are great sweaters, all in colors that look great on me. There is slight shaping, but they are super awesome.

In the UFO bin was Katie's scarf. Katie is the greatest real estate agent EVER. Seriously. So that's live and going now, after it's brief hiatus in the UFO bin while we moved. Teal cashmere.... ooooh.

CORRUPTING THE YOUTH OF AMERICA

Last night I taught my niece Hannah how to knit. She had gone to a birthday party, and the goodie bag had needles and yarn, and she was DYING to learn to knit. She called our house at 8AM on Saturday morning and expressed her interest in starting right away, so we established that she had fuzzy yarn and regular needles. We decided that Sunday was a better day to learn, since she had soccer during the day and we had Grace's birthday dinner.

I get there, only to realize that they had given her size 4 (US) needles and fuzzy yarn (which I had brought some nice, plain, Cascade 220 for her to get started on.

What kind of idiot starts beginners on size 4 needles? Even moreso- what kind of idiot starts a child on needles that won't show ANY progress?! Needless to say, I put Hannah on a set of my circulars, and we learned. Next week, she gets her very own grown-up needles and can fly on her own.