I Thought I Was Done

Well, I am indeed done with spinning this yarn. And I thought I was done with spinning altogether (more on that in a bit).

According to my Ravelry file I began this spinning project in June 2008 and finished it in October 2009. Rather a long time, wouldn't you say? Naturally there were some life events, like moving to the mainland, and a good bit of knitting along the way, but still.

So what is this stuff? Okay. The fiber is superwash merino from Crown Mountain Farms in the "Say A Little Prayer" colorway (Aretha Franklin song, in case you were wondering). The resulting yarn is a two-ply laceweight, of which there are 6 ounces and 1200 yards. And all of this yardage was spun and plied on spindles (as well as another two ounces that I messed up in the finishing and have put aside for some indeterminate future use).

Why laceweight? I'm not sure. It's just what the fiber wanted to be. Who am I to argue with a truly determined fiber? Just for fun I put it next to the Fiddlesticks Zephyr Laceweight I'm using to knit the Celtic Knot Stole. Take a look.

Yup, that's a laceweight. Mine is much more tightly plied than the Fiddlesticks, which may not be a good thing. We shall see when it comes to the knitting.

After taking such an incredibly long time to spin what is, after all, not so very much yarn – just enough for a nice shawl – I was feeling rather negative about the whole spinning thing. I tucked all the spindles into a basket and put them out of sight. And then . . . heh.

Then I learned that the Southern California Handweavers' Guild was having their annual fiber festival a mere 30 minutes' drive from my residence. Of course, I had to go. And of course (you can guess already, right?) I met tons of friendly, happy fiber-enablers. They showed me their spinning wheels, offered helpful tips, displayed gorgeous fibers. You know how it goes.

So, for the past week, I have been obsessively researching spinning wheels – a truly challenging task. There is a lack of clarity about terminology and functionality that is probably to be expected in a device with parts called "footman," "maiden," and "orifice." Alas, there is also a corresponding lack of solid information. Selecting a spinning wheel is not at all like buying a bicycle -- an apparatus with about the same level of complexity -- perhaps because there are far fewer spinners than there are bicyclists. Neighborhood shops do NOT abound. But I do not despair. There are 7-8 potential wheels on my current list (which leans towards smallness and foldability due to my tiny apartment), and the hunt is on!

What Is Heard Is Not What Is Said **

Although I have not yet finished the Celtic Stole, I have already started the Strawberry Pie Shawl. Two shawls on the needles at the same time – shocking, is it not? But I could not wait.

Oddly enough, this relatively simple pattern gave me all sorts of trouble. I could not make sense of the directions. Clearly the designer and I spoke different dialects of pattern-ese. I attempted to chart the little strawberries, and, after a good bit of symbol shifting, came up with this --

The strawberries are correct and the spacing is correct. Good. Now I could cast on. But I was still convinced that some of the directions were "wrong." Heh.

So I decided it would be fun and educational to translate the chart into my dialect of pattern-ese. Oh, did the light ever dawn!

See that pencilled square? Those ten stitches are the "strawberry." That's the bit that is repeated across. And in that context, every single word of the instructions is completely correct. What was wrong was . . . well, I guess, my brain. I simply wasn't reading the pattern the way it was intended to be read.

Here's the scary part -- if it's possible to so thoroughly misunderstand something as focused and specialized as knitting instructions, what does that say about the possibilities for misunderstanding in the wider world? How often do we think someone is "wrong," when we simply are not listening? (And don't even get me started about the "sound bites" on news shows. Aaaargh!)

**from "Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung?" by Ajahn Brahm

Adventures in Bread Making

A while back I read a book called "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day" and was greatly intrigued by the process described. But since the method involved putting aside my beloved bread machine in order to shape the bread by hand and bake it in the oven, the experiment had to await weather cool enough to run the oven without fainting from heat stroke.

The idea is that you skip all the kneading, multiple rises, punching down, etc. Simply slop all the ingredients into a covered container of some sort, let it sit out for a few hours, and then pop it into the fridge. Over the next two weeks you can then pull off a piece of whatever size you want, shape it, and then bake it for about 30 minutes.

Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?

Well, I mixed up a bucket of dough Friday. That took about 10 minutes. Then this morning I pulled off a small piece, shaped it into this boule, let it sit out for 30 minutes, slashed the top, and baked it for 30 minutes.

My little boule not only looks and tastes great, but it is also LITTLE, a major asset when baking bread for one's own single self. Here's a pic of it sitting next to an ordinary table knife (okay, I had eaten a slice or two).

You can see how small it is. Just enough bread to keep me going for 2-3 days, and then I can bake up another loaf.

According to the authors, this approach works because the dough is extremely wet, so it behaves differently than traditional bread dough. Certainly the recipes are different – about twice as much water as I would typically use. But who can argue with success? It's quick, it's easy, and it produces great bread.

Fun on the Beach

I got a nice surprise when I took a stroll down to the pier today -- a Kite Festival.



Big ones, little ones, all over the beach. How about this dragon?



We had entertainment too. These drummers were awesome. Incredibly coordinated routines.



And as I walked home along the water's edge I encountered another sort of kite -- a windsurfer.


While the river (behind the nearest jetty) and the stretch of beach closest to it are strictly for board surfers, the next strip is reserved for the windsurfers to get in and out. What with the kite, the board, and all the lines, these folks need a lot of space.

Nature Abhors A Vacuum

What have we here? An empty drawer? Totally, entirely empty? How did such a thing happen? Excessive efficiency on the part of the drawer owner, perhaps. Tsk, tsk, this will never do.

Ah, much better. Drawers, as we know, are meant to be filled with yarn (or fiber). There's room for more, of course, but this will do for now.

So, let's take a closer look at the contents (which just arrived in today's mail, huzzah!)


First we have Knitpicks Gloss in the Winter Night colorway. The picture makes the yarn look as though it has multiple shades of blue, but no. All one solid color really. Must be the way the silk picks up and reflects the light. This yarn is intended for the Strawberry Pie Shawl.

This lovely stuff is Knitpicks Suri Dream in Fennel, which is a mix of dark olive, light yellow-green, beige, and everything in between. It is mostly alpaca (Hi, my name is Rita and I'm an alpaca addict.) with a little wool and nylon thrown in. It is – I hope – going to become the Simply Garter Vest from Cheryl Oberle's "Folk Vests," but I couldn't swear to it. I might end up swearing AT it. Here's why.

Although Knitpicks classifies Suri Dream as a "super bulky" yarn, I learned from trolling Ravelry that it is more DK-ish. Without the surrounding fuzz, the core of the yarn is actually thinner than fingering-weight Gloss. So, there are a ton of options when it comes to choosing needle size; depends entirely how you want the fabric to look. If it doesn't work out for the vest, though, it will make a fabulous shawl. I mean . . . alpaca. What's not to like? And it was ON SALE!!!!!

Name That Tree!

Since July I have been noticing these trees with gorgeous orange flowers all along Ocean Avenue. As long as I have lived in Southern California, I don't remember ever seeing anything like this. What the heck are they? Does anyone know?

It's definitely a tree, not a bush. The big ones are way taller than a one-story house.

Here's a closeup of the blossom. Each one of those teeny mini-bananas in the middle opens into a fabulous orange beauty. As more of the inner ones open, the outer blooms tend to drop off, so the overall flower stays about the same size.



And here's some leaves --



And that is absolutely all the information I have. Can anyone help?

A Little Diversion

Whilst chugging along with the Celtic Stole (halfway there!) and my endless supply of "Say a Little Prayer" fiber to be spun, plied, finished, etc. I was assailed by a small attack of startitis. Only a little one. Here's what caught my eye.

The pattern calls for Cascade Fixation, but I decided to try it in Shachenmayer Nomotta Stretch Only, which stretches just like Fixation, but is somewhat softer. The only color I could find was red. No problem. I love red; it goes great with denim. So a few weeks later, here we are --

Aside from the yarn choice, there is another key difference between my tank and the original top. Mine is modified for the more mature figure, i.e. wider straps to conceal the necessary lingerie beneath. It was an easy change; I just omitted the last few decreases at the arm edge, bound off fewer stitches at the neck, and then did fewer decreases at that edge too. Not so much knitting at that point but a LOT of trying on.

This project, more than any other, made me thankful for my Knitpicks Harmony interchangeable circs. So simple to unscrew the tips from one cable and pop them onto another so the back and front could be worked at the same time.

I'm eager to make another of these tops, this time with muli-colored Cascade Fixation. Got my eye on a nice combo of navy, beige, and brown. Should go well with denim.