Woolybuns

One Plus One Equals Yum

That's 2 ounces of the turquoise merino and angora I dyed last week.  I carded them together in a 50/50 blend, and drafted half of it into roving, left the other half as a batt. So far.  The blending process of course has evened out the color variations.  I was planning to offer these for sale, but this first two ounces I may just have to spin it myself.  And then once it's yarn, I dunno - I might just have to knit it, too. 

Eeny Meeny Miney Moe

The babies are 8 weeks old now and starting to go to their new homes. Which meant I had to make my final choice yesterday.  I got the choice down right away to these 4 because I need to keep a doe and these are the girls.  After that, it wasn't all that easy as three of them had equally good shoulders, butts, length and wool qualities.  So next I looked at the foof factor.  I'm a sucker for lots of face foof.  That eliminated one.  Eventually, I went with my preliminary choice. And here she is: Woolybuns Winnie the Poof.

The reason I had to make my final choice yesterday is cause somebody else is now a new mom.  People often ask me how I can stand to part with any of the babies.  Well.  I think this picture explains it perfectly.  I not only get the fun of the babies while they are here, but I get to enjoy the excitement new mommyhood brings. 

I also finally decided on a name for one of the French angoras I brought home from North Carolina.  Since she's French, I decided she needed a French accent to her name.  Introducing Avillion's Bun Vivant.

Good thing I had so much bun fun yesterday.  The rest of the day was spent dealing with this.   Head gasket gave up the ghost.  As he poured fluid in, fluid flowed right back out the bottom.  It's a 1994 with over 220,000 miles and assorted other issues threatening to flare up.  Not worth a $1500 repair.  The boy kid young man needs another car.  As a college student not currently working, he of course has no money for such a need.  I guess I'm buying a car sometime soon.  In between driving him to and from his classes. 

Thanks, Mom!

Terry wants to know what three things your mother taught you.  Heh - sounds like a good opportunity to blame my mom for some of my less admirable traits, like my tendency to overlook the need for housework.  But I do remember many times of dragging the vacuum cleaner up the stairs, cleaning each step as I went.  And that the beauty of a crystal chandelier means climbing up on a chair to take all those individual cut baubles off for washing a couple times a year.   And dealing with cloth diapers because she presented us with a new baby sister when I was 11.  Clearly lessons were taught, just not always received, although I did learn that a much more modest dining room chandelier of brass and no baubles is ever so much easier to maintain, so I guess she did teach me something about cleaning.  But there were more important things my mom taught by example.  Appreciation for creativity certainly sits right up in the top ten.  I have 6 sisters, so arts and crafts were a group thing.  We made Christmas decorations by hand, using empty pill bottles (dad was a doctor so we had an unending supply) bricbrac, lace ribbon bits, glitter, sequins and whatever else struck the fancy. She also routinely tossed the lot of us outside, where we learned to entertain ourselves without the need for coaches and expensive ball fields or video games or tv.  I very fondly remember one Thanksgiving when we were all so full of several rainy days worth of energy and mischief that she just finally stamped her foot, pointed at the door and shouted out "oh, go run around the block!"  And we did, laughing and having a great time getting soaked and learning that it's perfectly ok to get wet and sloppy.  After all, "you aren't sugar, you won't melt."   She also taught me how to rely on myself, although inadvertently.  This story always embarrasses her.  She and dad sent me to Wyoming to college so I could major in horse management.  My second year there, I arrived with my dog, my stuff, and a check to cover tuition, horse feed, books, rent, and assorted other supplies and stuff.  Except we all forgot to factor in food for me, since I was not living on campus that year.  After I paid everything and realized I had almost nothing left to eat on, I called home and said "can you send some more money?"  She let out an exasperated sigh and said No!  Years later, when I finally told her that I lost 10 pounds that first month because I had no money, she explained that she forgot which child she was dealing with.  Several of my sisters constantly had hands out for more money but I generally did not.  Her defense was an automatic no.  But I didn't know that and just accepted that I had no food.  Hunger drove me to figure things out.  I got a weekend job washing dishes at a local greasy spoon kind of place, which meant I not only had a bit of cash coming in, but got to eat before and after shift.  I also got a Friday afternoon job running animals from auction pen to new owner pen (which meant I learned how to face down a grumpy, scared and very. big. bull.  And convince a panic struck cow she really didn't want to climb that 8 foot fence).  And I learned to wash my filthy mud covered jeans and sweat shirts in my bath tub and actually get them clean, not just rinsed off.   That was a very tough month, but I learned a lot about taking care of myself.  And budgeting. 

But I think the most important thing I ever learned from my mother was about raising my own kids.  She asked a simple question one day to sum it up: Do you love your kids enough to say no?  My kids will tell you I learned that lesson very well.  Sometimes saying no meant getting very creative in the way I said it (like when one child didn't believe no meant no if you can find the car keys and won't give them back - I took the license plates off the car and said "see how far you get down the road without them!).   I'm proud of my kids and my mother's teaching  is a very large part of that.   

A Pregnant Man?

That's the story.  Transgendered man is pregnant.  Oprah's camera crew went  with him for the ultrasound so it's confirmed for the media that this is not a hoax.  The man is pregnant (with a baby girl, not that that matters).  How is it possible for a man to carry a baby?  Well, the answer in this case is he was born a woman, got the testosterone shots for gender switch but never had the surgery to switch the anatomy.  He's got the beard and the wife.  But I really have to wonder.  With a uterus and functional ovaries, is he really male?  Seems like that would require XX chromosomes. BTW, I'm not pondering this with an anti-transgender agenda.  I'm as comfortable with other people's gender identification as I am with my own (I'm decidedly female and happy with that fact).  I ponder this simply, as a curiosity.  Science differentiates male from female by the X and Y chromosomes.  I know sometimes nature isn't always as clear cut as only boy parts only on boys and only girl parts only on girls.  So I'm just wondering.  What makes us female or male, if we consider this person with woman parts a man?

Delicious Dye Pot Plunge

I popped another half pound of white angora into the dye pot this morning, not sure until I put the dye in what color I'd use.  Turns out it was turquoise.  I love this color.  It is serenely exciting, gloriously glamorous.  And it goes well with red hair.  I worked the dye throughly through the fluff for an even dye job (in spite of what shows in the photo).  After the angora had been in the pot for about half it's dye time, I decided it would not exhaust the pot, which tends to leave too much dye in the fiber and ultimately, yarn that runs when washed. Not so hot.  So I pulled out some natural white merino and plunked that right in there, too.  I didn't do much stirring as I didn't want to felt it, and with the merino folded over in loops and stuffed in a small mesh bag, I got my aim: good tonal variegation.  Once they are both dry, I might card them together.  Or might not.  One of the fun things about producing fibers.  I can go with the whim.

She's Still Got It

Check the schedule.  If the Yarn Harlot is landing close to you (close being a relative and wonderfully flexible term), go to her.  You'll be glad you did.   I met up with Jessica for dinner at Whole Foods.  We missed a wonderful photo op: we were on the phone with each other trying to figure out where the other was,  giving visual clues to each other.  I turned left, she turned right and we were on either side of the same escalator!  The folks at the store where yesterday's event took place set up 100 chairs.  They were all claimed by 6 pm.  Stephanie was due at 7 pm (and she was quite punctual).   We all entertained ourselves with... yeah, knitting.  That's Jessica's cabled sock on the right. I was going to take a photo of the ladies seated in my row because of all the colorful knitting but viewed through the camera, the photo would have featured a bunch of boobs, which they weren't.  So I used some discretion (I know!  Me, discretion - heh) and took individual photos instead.  The colors were great, the patterns fun, and the informal fashion show quite satisfying. The lady in front of me had on a great green cabled T with I think a swooping hem that I love.  Did I get a picture? the pattern name?  Her name?  No.   But the general idea is stored in my brain file. 

The highlight of the evening, of course, was Stephanie.   And, no, in the photo to the right, she was not telling that joke about why women can't judge distance.  (punchline men keep telling us this is 6 inches).  But the laughs were nearly constant, especially when she quoted research about how activities like knitting are scientifically proven to reduce stress, but it's just not practical... well, it's Stephanie's talk.  Go hear her say it.   And I did manage to wangle a sock photo op.  There was no fiber purchasing opportunity though.  Besides a train ticket and food, I only bought 2 books and a magazine. 

Stephanie has dubbed this tour The Inexplicable Knitter Behavior Tour.  The only inexplicable thing I saw was two statues someone or a committee of someones (definition of a camel: a horse put together by a committee) think is art.   These things are huge.  And anatomically correct.  Stand in front of Her and right there at eye level is... well, a vertical line.  And Him?  That is not light causing a difference in color on his ... well, it seems some folks or a bunch may have handled the goods.  I think he needs a sock, don't you?

Wednesday WIP 4/2-08

I know I will love wearing my Friend's Folly sweater.  I do love how it is coming out.  There is just the matter of sleeves.  Knitting one freakin' sleeve is taking me longer than the body.  I'm not loving it.  I only have about an inch and a half to go on the first one, so you'd think I'd just settle down and slog through it.  But  not so much.  It doesn't look any different than it did last time you saw it so I'm not going to post a photo.  Goal: keep at it.  Even at this snail's pace, it will eventually be long enough.

I also got a few rounds in on the corrugated rib socks.  Again, progress really doesn't show so no sense in posting a photo.  Goal: same as before - work a couple rounds here and there.

Biggest progress of the week is two pounds of angora now dyed and drying.  I did the first batch in color salmon.  It's a tonal variegation, ranging from pale peach through apricot and on into orange.  I like.  It's for blending with some natural chocolate wool.  The second batch I blended a bit of sapphire blue with violet and got tonal variegation from light blue violet through stormy dark blue violet.  It will be wedded to a silver grey wool. 

I started a new sock.  For good reason.  Really.  I need a sock on the needles today, but it needs to be a mindless knit and neither the SKP sock nor the corrugated rib is mindless.  I dug out the directions for the magic cast on for toe up socks, ripped the needles out of the SKP sock (cause I needed to rip back a bunch of rounds to adjust fit anyway), and cast on the new.  This time, I did it correctly the first time out.  Whee!  That's definitely progress.  I think I will do a rib sock with these.  Any other pattern would get lost in all that color, I fear.  The yarn: Koigu KPPPM.  It seemed appropriate to use a Canadian yarn today because I'm going to NYC for The Inexplicable Knitter Behavior Yarn Crawl Tour. 

Sometimes The Process Sucks

Cosmetic updates to the house are wonderful once they are done, but this living with the mess of the process - well, you read the post title.  I have a general idea of where my stuff is but my tables, my dye pots, heat source, yeah, it's all buried in that heap of stuff in what was my temporary work space.  Yes, there is a miter saw sitting in the middle of other stuff in the upstairs hall, so just getting to the bathroom takes careful stepping.  Even the big freakin' sink in the laundry room I use to drain washed or dyed fiber is not useable.  It might be a bit easier if I were in control of any of it, but other than picking out  color, the chaos is in the hands of others.  And they have full time jobs and not much to gain from the update.   On top of that, the color choices are now more based on what might appeal  most to potential buyers.  Can you say Frustrated?  Calgon, take me away!!

Well.  The fiber urge will find a way.  I've got angora piling up and wool at the mill that needs it.  So I stepped carefully over the saw and now there's 3 pounds of angora taking a bubbleless bath.  Next step: figure out where to set up my dye pots.  And then find the dang things.