Woolybuns

By George! I Think She's Got It

Yep.  Socks completely finished, with ends woven in, and kitchenered toes.  Not only kitchenered, but, I am happy to report, kitchenered correctly.  No more a$$ whuppin' for me when I come to the end of sock.  And it comes from pure bull headed persistence.  With a healthy dose of cute new granddaughter deserves a good looking toe on her socks.  Just find your motivation, baby, and you can do anything.  We will, however, ignore the cheeky wave of a purl in the sea of knit on the right foot sock, so glaringly obvious cleverly hidden under my left foot.

'Paca Party!

 

Alpaca Kathy aka Blogless sent out an invitation to spin at Parker River Alpaca Farm.  The timing was perfect, and so was the weather.  Of course I went.  I wouldn't miss this cute photo op!  We spun, we chatted, we visited alpacas, we watched the guys set up  a sock knitting machine and crank out a beer cozy, we played with an electric drum carder, and Heather even brought fiber for sale and a small riot erupted as we dove for the one bin of sale stuff.  Ok, so I admit it - that was me rioting and diving.  Then I played like Santa on Christmas morning, handing out fondlables to whoever gasped first over whatever surfaced.  Almost as much fun as buying something for me.  And you know I bought.  One pound of dyed merino superwash roving in colorway Carousel.  Perfect for a sweet granddaughter, dontcha think?  I also picked out a lovely orifice hook for my sadly hookless Canadian Production Wheel.  It's in that bag if you can find it.   And then Kathy and Olivia conspired and brought out some Very. Fine. Alpaca Fleeces.  This little lady's prime baby blanket is coming home with me.  And I guess Dave over at Cabin Cove is a bad influence, cause I couldn't resist this nice little parting shot.

   

The Long and Wnding Way to a Yarn Store

For I think the 5th time in the last 12 months, I have moved me and all my fiber stuff to yet another room of the house. As people moved out, we worked on repainting/wallpapering assorted rooms, which is why I've been shifting around so much.  When my daughter moved back in, the plan was she'd stay long enough to find a job, get back on her feet a bit, then move in with the BF.  BF currently lives with his dad.  So silly me started a thinkin'.  My house is a decent size split level.  Three bedrooms and 2 baths on the top level, kitchen, dining and living room on the middle level, family room, bedroom, bathroom on the lower level, laundry room, extra room and furnace room in the basement.  When we bought this place 11 years ago, it was a cosmetic wreck, and every room needed a complete re-do.  We've replaced every window, the central air conditioning, almost every door (I'm ordering the final 3 this week), gutted all three bathrooms and the kitchen, added the deck, and done some landscaping, though maintenance on the landscaping sometimes escapes me.  The one part of the house that hasn't been touched is the family room area.  We were planning to do that ourselves but with changes in life, those plans kind of got fuzzy.  DD is a handy soul.  So is the BF.  I suggested it could be mutually beneficial if we treated the family room level as an apartment and they move in there.  They can save money while providing the labor for the work.  We talked about boundaries, acceptable interactions, shared pet sitting, sharing a kitchen and laundry room and decided to give it a go. 

Right now, we are in the tear things out phase.  I don't know the exact dimensions, but trust me, these two rooms are nice sizes.  And this is where all my fiber stuff, including my vendor tables which double as work surfaces here at home, has been residing.  And you all know we stash to fill exceed our available space.  So yes.  It had to go.  All of it. The big bedroom into which I will eventually move is in the middle of paint/carpeting redo, so my room at the moment is the just finished middle size bedroom.  I moved my tv, one table, comfy chair, and essential fiber tools in there along with my bed and a night stand.  I don't even have a dresser for it yet. It won't fit.  The rest of my fiber stuff is in the extra room in the basement.  In that context, sure, I know where it all is.  But being able to figure out which box has what?  Yeah, right.  Of course there are labels, but getting to it is a whole nuther story.  At the moment, I have a tv but it's not hooked up to cable, I have no space to felt, spinning wheels are mostly put away, even the poor lizard who hates any kind of change has been uprooted, moved to smaller digs and shoved in a corner.  I figured this would be a good time to knit the two sweaters I have planned for Danni.  But.  Yeah.  Which box are they in? 

Which is all a very long winded way of saying I went to a yarn shop yesterday. 

The Perfect Little Antidote

My sweet new little granddaughter, Danni.  She's doing quite well, only had a very short stay in special care and that was only because of her weight.  She arrived weighing one ounce less than the minimum weight for staying with Mom.  Mom and daughter may go home today. And of course, I've already made her model a sock.

And Life Moves On

Thank you all for your compassion about Keeva.  I have read and appreciate each of your comments.  Molly is missing Keeva.  Or at least, activity with Keeva.  She is doing a lot of sitting and staring at me. Which is better than what she did Sunday night after I got back from the cardiology clinic.  Her response to her inactivity of the day was to sneak into an inadvertently open room which housed the assorted tools and things for the continuing renovations to the house.  Molly delights in thievery.  She snagged a prize and brought it downstairs to chew up on the oriental rug.  Her prize?  A tube of graphite.  Emptied and smeared into said rug.  As soon as I realized she'd done something, I checked her mouth and sure enough, that stuff was coating some of her teeth and spots on her tongue.  So fresh from the news about Keeva, I came close to sheer panic, particularly since the tube was so chewed up, I couldn't read what it was.  A quick phone call to someone who would know helped immensely because we quickly found out that graphite is not toxic, so Molly was ok, even if the rug was a disaster.  I guess I am a bad blogger because my reaction to the sight of a 2 x 2 foot section of rug heavily coated with graphite was to clean the rug before taking pictures.  But blogger sanity did return soon enough to get one photo that shows some sense of the issue.  That bit of whitish on the left of the photo is the color that should be to the right of the blue gray flower.  Imagine 2 square feet of about 5 shades darker. Now, as I searched the internet for cleaning solutions, little did I know that Molly's prank would turn out to be a good distraction.  The cleaning solution: 1/4 dish soap + 1 cup warm water, whip to a foam, spread foam like frosting over the affected area, let it sit for 5 minutes, then suck it up with a wet vac, rinse and suck again, repeat until stain is gone.  While it is successful, that's a time consuming, mindless activity.  Perfect for suddenly finding out that Danni, the granddaughter-to-be due October 8, decides that is 3 weeks too long and her mom is in the hospital with a very inactive labor after her water broke.  It's been a very long 24 hours but Danni arrived early this morning, about 3:50 am, I think.  She is on the tiny side, just somewhat over 5 pounds, I hear.  The cord was wrapped around her neck, she was gray and not overly reactive at birth, but pinked up with some attention.  After some bonding time with her mom, Danni was whisked off to special care nursery.  Much as I would like to be planted close by, I have not been to the hospital yet because I suspect Danni's mom is both inundated with other relatives and exhausted.   Besides, my baby knitting wasn't even started, let alone finished (hey, I had 3 weeks).  So once the rug was clean, I pulled out some yarn and knit up a pair of brand new, small-baby size tube socks.  And now it's time to check on mom and baby.

A Broken Heart

When I got Keeva, she came with a sales contract, requiring a well puppy check at the vet within a couple days.  That's a pretty good idea, contract or not, so I took her to see my vet.  I had chosen my breeder carefully and I trust her completely so I expected the visit to be a formality.  But the vet found a heart murmur.  Heart murmurs are symptoms of defect, not a disease in themselves.  Some murmurs are termed innocent or benign, meaning they go away around 16 weeks to 6 months and the vet recommended a recheck in a couple weeks to see if that was the case, though she didn't think this murmur would go away.  She graded Keeva's murmur a III-IV out of VI, and said it was a systolic murmur, though she qualified that as possibly a continuous.  Those distinctions help identify the underlying cause of the murmur.  A continuous murmur is associated with a defect called patent ductus arteriosus (PDA) and it is the most common heart defect in the Irish Setter breed.  It's also fixable with surgery.  Expensive, but fixable.  Only a cardiology vet using doppler ultrasound could definitively diagnose the cause  and the breeder and I decided to take Keeva to a cardiology clinic that was held yesterday.  That gave me two weeks to research  canine heart murmurs.   And make some "pre-decisions."  Some murmurs that stick around  come from heart defects that are mild and do not cause any symptoms.  Some murmurs are fixable with surgery.  Others are devastating and the prognosis awful.   Any murmur automatically, in my book, disqualifies the animal from a breeding program.  Keeva is such a delightful pup and a perfect match with Molly, I decided that any murmur she could live comfortably with  or that was fixable would just turn her from a potential champion/breeder to a lovable, goofy  companion.   I spent the last two weeks trying to balance her need for lots of love and affection with my need to protect my emotions.  Yesterday, as the cardiologist listened to her heart, I watched him closely for clues along the way.  He confirmed pretty quickly that the murmur is indeed systolic, which ruled out a PDA.  He also quickly put to rest any hope that this murmur would go away.  And then he graded it a V out of VI.  My own heart was sinking fast.  Then he spent a good bit of time imaging Keeva's heart with the doppler ultrasound.  Within the first sight, he announced the words I most did not want to hear.  Sub-aortic stenosis (SAS).  That means the area of the left ventricle just below the aortic valve is narrowed, preventing proper blood flow and making the heart work harder.  The cardiologist also quickly told me he himself has a nearly 12 year old boxer with sub-aortic stenosis, that with mild SAS, the dog can have a normal life.  The rest of the exam documented the degree of defect.  It is not pretty.  Severe SAS which means poor little Keeva has a thoroughly broken, unfixable heart.  Her prognosis is awful.  This defect is present at birth but tends to hide until about the time I got Keeva, which is why the breeder did not know about it until I told her.  I do not blame the breeder for anything.  She is a very caring, ethical breeder and the vet said this condition, while known to be genetic in some breeds, is rare in Irish Setters, so the problem in Keeva could very well just be a really rotten roll of the dice instead of genetic.  That's good news for Keeva's relatives.  But Keeva's condition will get progressively worse and her heart already shows damage from the extra demands.  Over time, she will have trouble with exercise, she might start fainting with exertion, develop arrhythmias, any one of which could be instantly fatal.  If a fatal arrhythmia doesn't claim her quickly, she will develop congestive heart failure.  She will die young, the only question is how young, typically 3 to 5 years.  And there is not a damn thing any of us can do about it.  The breeder took Keeva back and Keeva will live whatever life she has there.  Two weeks of preparing myself did not help.

My Little Sun Worshipper

Keeva likes the sun.  Doesn't matter how warm it is on the deck, she'll find the sun and sleep there.  With this morning's chilly nature, I brought her in as soon as I noticed she'd latched on to the only bit of sun out there.  She may need some knittin' for the winter.

Friday's Flowers

While DD exiled herself way far away on the Outer Banks, NC, she seems to have discovered an appreciation for orchids.  I decided that made for a perfect welcome home/birthday present.  Yesterday, I took her to J & L Orchids to browse and buy.  This nursery specializes in miniature and unusual orchids.  She picked out three: this Miltonia which is in full bloom, a Masdevalla copper cherub in bud, and a Dendrobium unicum which she must try to bring to bud herself.  I also succombed to a couple beauties myself, both in bud.  One is a Masdevallia Rosemary, the other is Oncidium fuscatum, which, for some reason, is also known as miltonia warscewiczii (yeah, I can't pronounce it either).  Of course, what we did in choosing these varities is come home with a mix of environmental needs.  Masdevallias tend to be cool growing orchids, while the oncidium needs an intermediate temperature range.  They also vary in water and light needs.  I've always said growing orchids is easy: you figure out what your home environment is and choose an orchid that likes those conditions.  This is a big departure from that advice and will take some creative thought to provide properly for these plants.  Can you hear the clunking and clanking going on in this tired old brain?

I Felt It

Sometimes things get to you more than other times, even when nothing's changed.  What do you do when you're feeling sorry for yourself and you know you have the right to feel that way, but really, the problems aren't anything extraordinary, and others face worse?  I get hands on.  Sometimes, hands on is good old physical labor, like yard work.  I think that's when I just want a distraction,  just want to fill the time.  I've had my fill of just filling up the time lately, though.  I wanted something more.  On Monday, I started felting again.  I've got basic technique down but I'm not fully satisfied with my design aspects.  There are a lot of ideas flirting with the neurons, but the synapses don't always seem to fire on time.  Still, the last few scarves I felted feel like progress to me.  They feel like humiliation to Molly though. Don't feel too sorry for her.  The photo session was immediately after she swiped the gourmet chicken salad wrap I set on the table while I conversed a bit with the Roadside Assistance fella who came to put the spare tire on my car so I can get the flat fixed.  Yep, Molly excels at thief-ery.  I decided she owed me some modeling time.  The blue scarf is mostly silk, held together with a glue of merino/angora batt, soapy water and good old elbow grease.  I did nothing for design other than use some nicely painted silk, so I could focus on how little non-silk stuff I needed to get a scarf to hold together.  The scarf is a bit on the fragile side but man!  The softness - a mere whisper in the wind.  You don't even know you're wearing it.  The pinkier one is a batt of salmon color merino blended with white angora which softened the color to more of a blush of peach.  I punched it up a bit with some of that red firestar I bought from Spunky Eclectic, which glistens brightly though it does not show well in the photo.  This scarf does not hold the firestar well, so I tried another one.  In this one, the firestar doesn't shine as well.  I love these colors together, though.  There will be more experimenting soon.

Power Shopping, Baby!

 

Vermont Sheep and Wool, 45 minutes and 2 trips to the ATM.  You'd have done it, too, so quit giving me that look.   I had two back to back classes to teach on Saturday and then the 4 hour drive home that evening.  The only time I had to shop was before my classes started, before the festival officially opened.  I'd have done more shopping in that time if more vendors were in their booths before opening bell.  But, I did score 3 pounds of Nick's Meadow  Farm merino roving (that stuff blends so well with angora!) and a pound and a quarter of Bartlett Yarns pencil roving in 5 colors, quarter pound each color, some shiny tinkly firestar from Spunky Eclectic, a pound of brightly colored Northern Lights roving -  2 colorways, 8 ounces each - from Copper Moose, a couple of dyed silk caps from Ellens's 1/2 Pint Farm, a yummy looking felt scarf kit from Six Loose Ladies, and 8 ounces of squiggly and vividly colored recycled sari silk from ... someplace.  I'll get back to you on that - the label is still in the car.  And in that same 45 minutes, I checked out some rabbits from one of my favorite rabbit breeders, even though she wasn't in her booth.  The students in my morning class very nicely finished their scarves early enough that I got a few extra lunchtime minutes to scoot back to Katie's booth and hand her a check for this little cutie.  She is an 8 week old blue Silver Marten angora, totally new color genetics for me.  Silver Marten is also kind of a new color pattern for angoras in general.  The Silver Marten part of the genetics isn't really what I was after but it's cute. What I wanted was the blue doe, and that there is chinchilla pattern involved is another benefit for me.  Careful breeding will bring out what I want.  Further back in her pedigree are some Woolybuns breedings, so she's kind of a "grandkit" for me, but with lots of outcrossing to bring some healthy genetic diversity to my herd.

And for a brief taste of the festival itself: