Dogs Steal Yarn

People, people, people

You're going through the various stages of grief for the Sassy Socks. I understand. And some of you are stuck at the denial stage.

In time, you will come to understand that:

1) It was a very big hole to darn. My trusty darning egg and I darn smaller holes, and repair newer socks. This was a total heel blowout on a sock that had not aged well.
2) They were old and pilly and entirely unappealing as wristwarmers. Really.
3) Life is short and my knitting time is too. And I'd rather knit than futz with replacing heels.
4) I have a drawer full of other handknit socks and much sock yarn in the waiting

Thus, I will not be repairing or repurposing the socks. They're SOCKS. Let them go. Really. It's okay.

RIP, Sweet Sassy Socks

All things, good and bad, must end, yes? If our handknit socks lasted forever, would they be quite as dear to us?

Friends, it is with a heavy heart (foot?) that I bring to you the news of the passing of the very first socks I ever knit*, the Lorna's Laces Sassy Stripes.

Total heel blowout. There was no chance of saving it. The damage was just too great. It was a good sock, a warm and cozy sock. Its beloved partner, unable to face its declining years--admittedly pilling and somewhat shabby--as a single sock in a drawer full of pairs, leapt into the garbage after its dead mate. They will be missed.

In lieu of flowers, my feet ask that you do some sock knitting for yourself in memory of these dear socks.

*Wow...look at those pointy toes. I'm happy to say I've gotten much better at toes over the years.

Overheard through the bedroom wall

My neighbor's contractor likes to sing while he works. Fine... He's got a nice voice and tends to sing salsa that I know and like. But this? Right now he's belting out "Born Free." And he knows all the words. Time for the baby and I to go to another room, I think.

But you know that song will be stuck in my head the rest of the day.

I didn't buy any yarn at Rhinebeck

Seriously. None. That's not to say no shopping was done. As you may suspect, I bought plenty. But I only bought what I set out to buy, with the cash we'd set aside for the occasion, and that's saying something when the fibery intoxication is at full force.

First, though, come the friends. We arrived two hours later than I'd wanted to, thanks to a late start and traffic. This means we got there and walked straight into a massive blogger meetup. Here are only a small handul of the friends I got to see. Billy and I barely used the camera, so this isn't terribly representative of all the old friends who were hugged and new friends met (and hugged).

Kate and Tadpole!

Melanie!

David!

Blogless Rachel H!

Half the day was spent putting Thumper's socks back on, which is what I'm doing in this photo. (And of course you know we were visiting with Thumper's girlfriend Juno and long-distance-doula Stephanie.) Special thanks to the several strangers who ran after us with a baby sock in hand. The great thing about Rhinebeck is that most folks in the crowd are unwilling to let you lose a handknit baby sock.

The blogger meetup really was kind of nuts. Pulled in fifty directions at once and no chance to really talk to anyone. I was overwhelmed. Thumper was overwhelmed. Luckily it was nothing a bit of nursing (for Thumper) and visiting with Claudia and Norma (for me) couldn't fix.

From here Claudia led me to the Journey Wheel booth to choose a couple spindles. I'd specifically hoped to buy a Bosworth spindle and went home with two. Claudia has this special spindle mojo that helps you choose your perfect spindle on first sight. I don't understand it, but I certainly benefitted from it.

Ditto for following Cassie around to buy fiber. Good stuff comes of it.

The spindles:

The fiber:

And good news! The kid loves to look at sheep! Thumper says Baaaaaa!

And I can now officially add "strolling around fiber festival while nursing in the sling" to my public nursing repertoire.

Thumper was so excited by his big outing, that the next day at my mother's house he came theeeeese close to rolling from his stomach to his back. He was right there, but couldn't figure out how to get his arm out of the way. It won't be long now...

Finally with the promised spinning content, modest though it may be

"Hey, Cari!" you might say, if you were so inclined to shout at your screen. "You mentioned something about starting to spin again days and days and days ago, and then...nothing, What gives?"

Well, Thumper has only allowed me three opportunities to sit down with the spinning since my decision to get the Louet moving again. (His sleeptime is my worktime, and I haven't yet figured out how to spin while nursing, so...) Unfortunately, he wasn't down with the "hang out in the sling while Mom spins" thing. He will, however, sit for about ten to fifteen minutes at a time in a bouncy chair while I spin. For a boy who prefers to be cuddled up to Mom at all times, this is exceedingly generous of him. (Behind him, evidence of laundry day. I'm so glad it's wool sock weather.)

Here's what I've managed to accomplish so far.

As you can see, it's a rather small amount of spinning. That small bit was actually done the third time Thumper let me spin. The first bobbin has been set aside for now. For some reason, I'd expected to sit back down to the wheel after several years of letting it collect dust, and just start right up again. Um...not so much. The hand and foot coordination came right back--like riding a bicycle, as you might expect--but my hands are not yet quite up to snuff. The Louet and I battled a bit. There was swearing. There was breakage. There was overspinning (something I've always had a problem with). Why such a struggle? Hubris, my friends. I sat back down to the wheel after that long hiatus and set about spinning laceweight. I can still, apparently, spin a pretty consistent laceweight; I just can't keep it going anymore. Ah well. I'll get back there, which is why I set that bobbin aside for later and started back up at this heavier weight. Don't ask about wpi. I haven't checked that yet...

I'm spinning Lorna's Laces wool top in the Flames colorway. I've had it in the stash forever. I'm going to use it as a practice roving to get back up to speed. Shame to have let this sit for so long, no?

Here are the orphan singles that were hanging out on the bobbins for so very long:

The white is Merino from a gift from Billy, and the red is from a gift from Alison. (Details below.)

Wanna see what else has been neglected for all this time? Sure you do.

The reds are unidentified wool (feels like superwash) and the white and the blue are silk. All gifted to me ages ago by Alison. (Go see her gorgeous new baby, then come back here. I'll wait.) The variagated red is what I used for that orphan singles.

This yummy pink stuff is a merino/silk blend. (Did I just say "yummy"? See. I need more adult contact. What did I tell you?) I think maybe I bought it two Rhinebecks ago. Any of my partners in crime that day remember if I did? No idea. Anyway, it clearly wants to be socks.

For the first anniversary of our fateful blind date, Billy came home (yeah, we were already living together. When you're sure, you're sure.) with three pounds of Merino roving. He had searched online for fiber suppliers, found one in Oregon (which appealed to him because he used to live in Portland), and called the shop. He explained that his girlfriend was a spinner and he wanted to get her some really good stuff. The kindly shop complied. If I hadn't already known I wanted to marry him, this might have convinced me.

This stuff. Ugh. I bought it two Rhinebecks ago because I liked the color. I must not have felt it first, though. It's sticky-greasy and unpleasant to handle. I'm going to have to wash it before I'll spin it. Which means it won't be spun for a very long time. It's wool of an unidentified type. (I probably asked at the time. I need to start writing things down.) The colorway really is lovely in person. Think mossy forest floor. A shame I shudder when I touch it.

And finally, we have Hoshi-in-a-Box. A few months before Billy came home with the Merino (in three bags, by the way, and when he gave them to me he said, "Three bags full!" How could I not marry him?) he "adopted" a Cotswold sheep for me. The three of you (Claudia, Carolyn, and Alison, I'm guessing. My comments didn't migrate from the original Blogspot blog, so I'm sorry if I'm forgetting any of the old-time commenters.) who have been reading this lil blog since the beginning may vaguely recall Hoshi. Here is Hoshi's processed fleece.

The Merino and the Cotswold are both special to me, because they were gifts from Billy, so I'm reluctant to dip into them until my spinning is good enough to use them for specific, larger projects. I'm thinking of using the Merino for an Aran, and the Cotswold for several smaller projects. Cassie tried out the Cotswold and said it would be good for a shawl. I think she's on to something there.

"Okay," you might now say. "You've got quite a bit of fiber for someone who hasn't spun in ages. What's the plan?"

I'm so glad you asked. The goal is to spin up enough usable sockweight (and I like my sock yarn on the thinner side) for three pairs of handspun socks this winter. One pair from yarn spun and plyed on the wheel, one pair spun and plyed on spindles, and one pair of energized singles straight from a spindle.

The complication? Until the other week, I'd only spun on a spindle once. I spent twenty minutes learning on one, then went straight to the wheel and never looked back. Maybe it's motherhood, I don't know...but now the slowness of the drop spindle really appeals to me. Maybe not for a large project, but certainly for socks. Cassie got me going on this practice spindle. (I don't know what that fiber is, exactly--ask the generous Juno--but it's fun stuff.) This bag purchased from Di a while back is proving the perfect way to keep the spindle nearby for those odd moments when I get a chance to spin a quick yard or so, without the cat getting to it. When I bought the bag I had no practical purpose for it, but really really wanted it. Now I know why.

Yeah, I really have enough fiber for now, but damnit I'm buying more at Rhinebeck anyway. Specifically handdyed rovings in sock-friendly fibers. I also want to buy a nice spindle or two. Okay, maybe three.

So no worries, folks. I won't be fighting you for the STR.

If you see us at Rhinebeck, please come say hello!

It's a small world

And I'm not talking about Disney.

A year and a few days ago I found out I was pregnant. I look back now at photos of me from back then--and it wasn't very long ago at all, a year--and they look somehow...frivilous. I see that girl with the yarn hair and the striped tights. She's just finished up an MFA program and the folks there thought she was pretty damn good. She's about to leave for a month at an artist's colony. She's about to land her Dream Agent (though she doesn't know this yet) and is getting ready to start her second novel. She also doesn't know that she's about to get a short story accepted for publication. Everything is opening up for her. She's on the verge of maybe getting everything she's ever wanted, creatively and professionally. Lucky woman, yes? Everything opening up.

So now I do have that agent, and the story did get published and the response to it was very satisfying. And I still have yarn hair and striped tights. But the novel didn't sell, so that new one I started at Ragdale is on the backburner while I revise the first one. If you've been coming here for a while, none of this is news to you, and you'd rather I get to the point. (Though if you've been coming her for a while, perhaps you know not to expect me to always have a point to get to.)

That's the life of the woman in those photos. Let's not forget about her wonderful husband, and her tiny dogs, and her evil foundling kitten either. Pretty cool life. She's got a lot to say at cocktail parties.

I look at the photos and what I see is someone who has no idea what's ahead of her in the coming year. Of course, that's true of any year-old photo of anyone. But I'm me, so can only fully feel the weight of the things I couldn't anticipate. The book not selling, sure. That's in there. But the pregnancy, the four days of labor, the c-section, motherhood. I thought I had a handle on this life thing, but I had no idea. Life kicked my ass this year. Lots of wonderful, wonderful things, but blessings can kick your ass too.

I'm thinking about this tonight because of something that happened this afternoon. Billy and I were out walking in Prospect Park. Thumper was happily riding along in his sling, which Billy was wearing, and it was a perfect crisp autumn day, cool enough for wool socks and a handknit neck-thingy. And I was walking with my guys and talking... And then stopped when I realized I'd just spent five full minutes telling Billy about how the muffins at the new cafe near our house were so much better than the ones at a certain Park Slope cafe, and then listing the various muffin types etc... Five minutes talking about muffins.

My life has gotten so much deeper in this past year, but the world that contains it? Small as a postage stamp. I'm basically a single parent during the workweek, because of the hours Billy has to work, and I get lonely. I go to this cafe with the great muffins almost every day (not always for a muffin, but certainly always for coffee). I pop the kid in his sling and walk the three blocks there not because of the coffee, (I brew better at home), nor for these fantastic muffins (they really are great), but because going there means five or ten minutes of human contact. I chat with the owner and whoever is manning the counter. Thumper is admired. People are happy to see me.

I try to get out with the baby as much as I can, but any mom can tell you how little "as much as I can" really amounts to. If I didn't have that parent/baby yoga class once a week I'd lose it. And if I'm not talking about the baby, or the birth, or not having enough time to write, then I'm talking about...muffins. Because really, that's about all I've got going on.

When Thumper was about two months old, my friend Phuc and his wife came to visit. I hadn't seen Phuc in ages. Years, actually. And I adore him. Was so excited to see him, and to finally meet his wife, Sue. And then I did see him, and found myself incapable of talking about anything besides the baby. Now granted, at that point I was still somewhat dazed by the transition and somewhat depressed and having trouble relating, but still...I was aware of having become, at least for that day, profoundly dull.

I wouldn't change a thing. (A lie. I would have liked to have sold the first novel already so I wouldn't have to be editing other people's books still.) I love this baby more than I could have fathomed. I love Billy. I love that I'm able to work from home after the baby goes to sleep, so that I get to be home with him. But still...this tiny world is going to take some getting used to.

I love knitters. This weekend Thumper and I went to a gathering of knitting friends. Of course someone asked what I was knitting, and when I replied "the Sunrise Circle Jacket," everyone in the room let out a collective gasp and then a sigh. Seriously. It was a lovely moment. Oh, the awe and reverence a special pattern can inspire, hunh?

Fiber was found. Spinning is happening. Photos when I remember to get new batteries for the camera.

(including photos of two mini skeins of abandoned singles that I found on the bobbins, each having sat there well over two years. Half-empty orphan bobbins. Such a sad thing.)

Caving to the fibery temptation

I don't do knitalongs. I just don't. Joining a knitalong is a guaranteed way to make me lose interest in a project. Any -along has this effect. And yet...

You are well aware of this by now, yes?

I kept thinking about it. And thinking about it. And looking at my beloved Louet collecting much dust, and my spinning fiber stash sitting neglected like so much moth bait. And then I pulled out my copy of Twisted Sisters and, well...

I'm obsessed now with the idea of putting some handspun socks on my feet this winter. I have plenty of undyed roving that could be dyed for this purpose, but I don't want to use chemicals around the baby, nor does Kool-Aid seem like the right choice. Luckily I've got some hand-dyed (by someone else) roving in the stash, though I can't remember exactly which colors and fibers they are. (Yes, it's been that long.) Ooh! And I'm going to Rhinebeck, so... Mmmmm. Merino. I actually have three pounds of natural Merino in the stash already, but see above re: dye and also that's set aside for a sweater one of these years.

So at some point tomorrow, I'm going to dig out the spinning fiber stash and take inventory. I'll also dust off the wheel. Yes, this archeological expedition will be photographed, never fear.

Next step? Convince Thumper that it's fascinating to sit in his sling while I spin. Actually, that might work, at least sometimes. As long as I can draw effectively with the baby strapped to my chest, he'll have a great view of the wheel and the flyer... Might actually prove to be good baby entertainment.

The new album by The Hold Steady, Boys and Girls in America, is out today! And it's fantastic. Do check it out. I especially love "Stuck Between Stations" and "Citrus."

The track I sang on (okay...shouted on), "Girls Like Status," didn't make the final album cut, but you can get it on iTunes. (A good portion of our shouting chorus also didn't make the final mix. It's only heard toward the end now. Alas...my career as a rockstar backup singer was short-lived indeed. Still, it was so much fun to be a part of it.) And if you're into the whole 7" thing, it's also the B-side of the UK single for "Chips Ahoy." Tad claims that's way more street cred than being on the album, but I think he's just trying to make Thumper feel better.

I went with the zipper

Pattern: Accordion
Yarn: Mission Falls 1824 Wool
Baby: Extra-delicious, three-and-a-half-month-old, 17-pound variety