Spinning at the Winery

Saturday was the annual Spinning Day at Retzlaff Winery in Livermore, CA. I packed carefully the night before: tiny spindle, some fiber, a garter-stitch baby blanket, my ID and a credit card. Last year I took my Sonata, but this year I didn't really feel much like spinning and I figured a spindle would allow me more mobility. AuntieSocial, on the other hand, brought her wheel... and didn't take it out at all. Score one for my precognition.

I like to play Count the Schacts with this picture

I did, however, find a few sad bags of orphaned fleece that desperately needed a home. I mean really! How can a kind-hearted spinner be expected to just leave roving like this:

8 oz. of spring green cormo from Sue Reuser

and this:

8 oz. of burgundy roving from Sue Reuser

out on the street to who-knows-what fate?

I also am going to split a beautiful white ewe fleece from Sue up at the Cormo Sheep Farm with AuntieSocial and another friend. We dropped off the huge 6-pound fleece with Sherri of Morro Bay with a request that she just wash it and keep it in lock formation so that we can try combing. Aija, I can see you grinning through the magic of the internet! And I may be developing a serious love affair with cormo fleeces. I spent a lovely quarter of an hour flipping through Sue's lock book - the book in which she keeps a lock of each sheep's fleece for identification purposes - and came to rest on a beautiful milky chocolate lock that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of. Then I looked at the sheep's name, and of course it was the amazing Henna whose fleece, for any interested parties (::coughcough::), has already been sold this year and will not be at the Monterey Auction. However, there will be a couple of other ones there, and I will be thinking very hard about saving money to make one of them mineminemine.

In addition to the stunning dyed cormo from Sue, I got an education and 2 ounces of Pygora from Hollyhock Hollows Farm. But let me back up.

One would think that the first thing a fiber person would do when encountering an unfamiliar chunk of fiber is to run it under her chin or perhaps on her cheek to feel its softness. One would generally be wrong. The first thing said fiber person does with a new fiber is smell it. This seems crazy, I know, but barnyard animals each have a distinctive smell, and it can often help identify things about the animal that the eye or skin cannot. Therefore, the first thing I did when I encountered a plastic salad dish of Pygora was to smell it, after which I promptly exclaimed, "it doesn't smell like sheep!" And the ever helpful lades at the Pygora booth informed me that no, pygora is actually a goat. I am so s-m-r-t it hurts sometimes.

By the way, the easiest way to aurally distinguish between goats and sheep is that the former says, "maaaa" and the latter says, "baaa." Thus is the Encyclopedia Britannica still useful.

So I learned about the three grades of pygora (A, B, and C), and came home with two ounces of fiber so soft that even ManCandy - who has learned all the appropriate phrases for when I come home loaded with wool (for the record they are: "ooo, what nice colors!," "can I feel it?," and "ooo, squishy/soft/pretty!") - exclaimed at how lovely it was.

It looks a little like a fuzzy pet rock here, but trust me, it's like
heaven to touch, I just want to hold it so much.

There was another acquisition at the winery, but I can't talk about it yet - I'm going to be selfish and keep it to myself for just a bit longer. But trust me, you'll hear about it soon!

In anticipation of the spinning day, I cast on for a Moderne Baby Blanket from Mason Dixon Knitting. I don't own the book because frankly I find the patterns inside to be unappetizing, but I do like the rustic color block look of the baby blanket, and I also like the appeal of large swathes of garter stitch for brainless knitting. I'm on block four of ten, and much like a circular shawl it keeps getting bigger with every change, so I'll be working on this one for awhile.

So this year was only a leetle more restrained at the Winery than last year; instead of 2 half-fleeces I ended up with 1/3 of a fleece plus a 18 ounces of pin-drafted roving and a bottle of delicious port. Hurrah for wine and knitting!

Knittin' and Spinnin' and Wishin' and Hopin'

Well, not so much with the wishin' and hopin'. But there has been knittin' and spinnin'! And also apostrophes bother me, so we'll go back to using the proper gerund, thankyouverymuch.

Let's see. I have now been in the Black Bunny Fiber Club for lo, these many months, and I've been enjoying myself greatly. However, I have yet to spin up any of Carol's delightful and personalized rovings; something had to be done! And which better roving to choose than the first one:

Begonia, 100% superfine Peruvian merino

I split it up into 4 equal parts, intending to make (what else but) lace. However, I found some amazing sparkly mylar thread at Joann's that threw off my entire game. Instead of thin lace singles, I tried to make chubby, fluffy singles. Then I plied them with the mylar and got this:

Begonia yarn 353 yds. total

Isn't it fun! I've never plied singles with thread of any kind before; I rather like it. I think this lot may become a simple feather-and-fan scarf for Yours Truly at some point - that is, once I've finished cooing over the sparkles.

closeup of the shiny!

This is only half of the roving, but I'm calling it done because I think I may make fluffy 2-ply out of the other 2 bits I have left, and thus have 2 different style yarns in the same colorway - something I've never done before.

I've been working away like a busy bee at the Honeybee Stole from Knitspot:
I'm on repeat 7 of 10 for this part of the pattern, and it's going fairly smoothly. I've finally learned to read the lace, which has helped the last few repeats move much more quickly. I'm still not certain if I'll get it done in time for my Very Awkward Conversation, but I'm enjoying working on it anyway. Here's the artsy shot:


Tomorrow is the annual spinning day at the Retzlaff Winery. This year I will take pictures with more than my cellphone! My friend AuntieSocial and I are planning to find another fleece to split this year; last year we both took half of a gorgeous charcoal grey named Topper and a white merino/corriedale cross named Steve. This year, if Steve's fleece is available again, I think that may be the one we bring home, but I'll keep you posted! Given that the student loans are going to come back to bite me soon, half of a fleece is all I can manage this year, so I'll have to make it a good one.

In the meantime, here are some cute kitty pictures that I just couldn't resist. They show off the boys' personalities to perfection.

Mr. Darcy loves you, and you, and you...

Panza the Dragon Kitty still hisses at the neighbors

And now I'm off to listen to Pride and Prejudice while I work on the Honeybee Stole!

Someone Bring Me A Harp

I am not fiercely political. I wish I were, but my sense of hopelessness often overwhelms my sense of indignation or annoyance with the Body Politica, and I tend to give up before I even begin. 

However. 

Dr. Tiller's murder disgusts me. When I have conversations with devout Christians who are near and dear to my heart, they have said over and over that people who kill other people in the name of God are apostate and are not, in fact, pursuing God's will. That such people are anathema and are simply sick in the same way that terrorists who identify themselves with Allah are also sick - the problem is not the Bible or the Koran, but the self-justification of the people who commit such crimes. And I believe those Christians, just as I believe my Muslim friends who say the same thing.  It is not the will of the Almighty, no matter which moniker we give such a being, that humans should hate and kill one another. 

But when a man is murdered in church for doing his legal job, and moreover a man who has been consistently demonized by people who call themselves Christians for helping women (and sometimes children - think of that, you mothers of daughters), I begin to question why the Christian "middles" and "liberals" don't begin policing their own. 

When do you get to say, "he does not read the Bible, he cannot be doing God's will" and call it good enough? Why can you say, "I am not that kind of Christian," and suddenly not be a part of such a group? True, you do not frequent the dark corners of the internet mentioned by Rachel Maddow last night. And you truly do not believe in your heart of hearts that these black sheep crazies should be doing what they have done. In this, we are the same. 

But for the love of God, get His house in order; none of us who are outside the doors can do it. 

Silence is Consent

I am reposting this from The Mudflats blog, which is where I usually get my daily dose of "WTF, Sarah Palin?!?" However, today The Mudflatter explains why I am not a part of the conservative movement, and why I have a very shaky relationship with religion. 

*****

It’s hard not to comment on today’s news.  Killing in the name of pro-life.

Last year I attended a candlelight vigil at the Anchorage Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in the memory of innocent people who were gunned down in their church at a Sunday morning children’s program.  They died not because of who they were, but for what they believed.  They were randomly targeted as symbols of liberalism in America.

Adkisson, [the shooter] who had served in the military, said “that because he could not get to the leaders of the liberal movement he would then target those that had voted them in office,” the search warrant states. Among the items seized from Adkisson’s house were three books: “The O’Reilly Factor,” by television commentator Bill O’Reilly; “Liberalism is a Mental Disorder,” by radio personality Michael Savage; and “Let Freedom Ring,” by political pundit Sean Hannity.

Memorial candles for the victims of the Tennessee Valley UU Church shootings.

It’s a lot to wrap your mind around.

This morning, a doctor and abortion provider was shot to death in front of his wife, in his church.  The suspect in this case, 51-year old Scott Roeder from Kansas, posted this two years ago on an anti-abortion website:

“Bless everyone for attending and praying in May to bring  justice to Tiller and the closing of his death camp…”

I hear lots of conservative pundits talking about health care.  They don’t want government, and government beurocracies coming between people and their doctors.  But when it comes to matters of reproductive freedom, they want the government to do exactly that.

They talk about being pro-life, and they believe that a human is a human at the moment of conception.  But if that human grows up, and strays from the path of a good life, and is convicted of a horrible crime, they believe the government should put him to death.

They don’t want the government intruding into their lives, and telling them they can or can’t own a gun.   They don’t want the government  in their house making laws that tell them what to do.  But they want laws taking rights away from people because of what they do in their bedrooms, and whom they choose to love.

Jesus was tortured to death for fear of what he might do.  But the religious right doesn’t seem to mind if people are tortured, even those who may not have done anything yet.  Think of what they might do.  They might go after innocent people.  They may come after us, in our homes, in our churches, just for the way we think.  Just for what we believe.  Just because we love our freedoms.  But when one of their followers comes into a church on a Sunday morning, and kills people in the name of conservative values, there is an awkward silence.  Right wing pundits, and those who need the political support of the conservative “base” are squeamishly non-commital in their opinions about these acts of domestic terrorism.

They like to talk about the constitution.   But when people who don’t think like they do use the first amendment to speak up, they are demonized.  They are called unpatriotic.  They are called ungodly, and immoral.  They are targeted.

And when does the first amendment cross the line and become incitement to violence?  How many more killings like this can we expect in the future?  In the last year, three people are dead, and six others were hospitalized with gunshot wounds, shot  in churches in the name of God, for being who they are, and doing nothing that violated the law.

I am not saying that all conservatives condone these acts.  I’m hoping with all my heart that the vast majority see this for what it is - the work of deeply disturbed individuals that do not reflect Christian values, or conservative values.   But the fact remains that the media has power and influence, and when it is used to fan the flames of hatred, to instill fear, to put people in the middle of a big red bullseye, things like this will happen, and we, as a collective citizenry should not tolerate it.  It is incitement.   And it’s been used for a very long time to divide and mobilize people for political purpose and religious power.

“Why don’t Muslim leaders speak out against terrorism?”   We hear that all the time.  “Silence is consent,” they say.  “If they really felt it was wrong, somebody would say something.”  We’re told that since nobody is denouncing and rejecting these acts of terrorism, it must be condoned.  And we don’t want any wesk-tea, carefully worded evasions.  We need outright condemnation of terrorist acts; acts that are perpetrated to instill fear, to terrorize a group who holds an idealogy they don’t like.  So, where are the right-wing conservative pundits?  What do they think about this?  Silence is consent, right?

[Update]  To see a compilation by Brad Friedman of the alarming reaction on conservative blogs, clickHERE.

Grrr! Argh!

I keep meaning to go finish season 2 of Gossip Girl, the season finale of Castle, and start with So You Think You Can Dance, but instead I keep playing Plants v. Zombies. 

I think that despite my wicked cool (and rigorously organized) defenses, the zombies may be eating my brain after all.

C+ Is A Programming Language

And also the shitty grade I got from my professor, who dinged me because I didn't always go to the class she told me I didn't need to be in in the first place. 

This puts me solidly below the 3.0 GPA I need in my major classes - an A (12 points) would have given me a 3.03, so the C+ (6.9 points) is detrimental. 

HOWEVER.

I have downloaded the catalog for my graduation year, scoured the Art & Design website, and dug through the muck of the SJSU site as well, and am unable to find any record of the Art History major requiring a 3.0 in the major classes. WTF? Don't they have to tell you things like that up front? Am I imagining things just to make myself crazy? Because it's working. 

One of my profs says I should be fine no matter what. I'm not so sure, but I'm going to drown my nerves in wine and read until I can barely keep my eyes open just in case. Insomnia benefits no body, and I have no way of knowing until I get the letter from the university saying that they're giving me a BA. 

And even then, given SJSU's penchant for refusing to allow students to re-enter the harsh, recession-soaked Real World, I think I'll make the registrar sign it in blood. 

Progressing Apace

Hmmm, let's see.

I am done with school except for the waiting-for-grades part, which is the real bitch of the matter. I will know my fate on the 28th, but until then I am going to assume I'm done for reals this time.

ManCandy and I spent the Memorial Day weekend at my mom's house, where we ate ourselves sick twice in a row. Delicious marinated steaks, corn-on-the-cob, ice cream cake, lemon tarts and (with the exception of the corn) nary a vegetable to be found. While we were up there, my Aunt C showed up with her ex-daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and a cat. The last was a "gift" for my mom; back when my mother was trying to qualify for a cat from the Ragdoll Rescue Shelter, she couldn't because one of our kitties snuck outside - it's a FARM for chrissake! - and got bit by something or other, abscessed and died. So the shelter, instead of giving a cat a loving and honest home, rejected my mom because she occasionally leaves the house door open. Aunt C responded by applying and lying through her teeth about how she never lets cats outside and would never feed them anything except fresh meat or some such nonsense, and of course was rewarded for her falsehoods with Sugar nee Nicole.

Since then, my mother has acquired a purebred Ragdoll named Pierre, of whom I like taking silly pictures. Anyway, all of this happened about 3 years ago. Since then, Sugar has been an inside/outside cat and perfectly happy, until about 6 months ago when Aunt C got a second miniature pinscher who thought of Sugar as her own personal chew toy. Sugar promptly moved out of Aunt C's house and has been MIA up until last week, when she arrived bedraggled and half-starved. Aunt C brought her to mom's this weekend because she knew that Sugar would have a home where she was safe and cared for and unmolested by dogs the size of a small Doc Marten boot.

Mom put her in the room I usually stay in for the introduction period, and within a day she was grooming her fur - or what is left of it after removing all the mats - and cuddling with me and ManCandy. On Sunday night I stayed in Rocklin with THB while Sugar worked her wiles on both ManCandy and my stepdad, earning her the new moniker of Jezabel.

I would have brought her home myself, but the dynamic of the house is shaky enough between Darcy and Panza, and I'm afraid that another kitteh - even a sweet, timid loving one like Jezabel - might permanently disrupt the balance. Mom is worried about the same problem, but she got stuck with the 9/10ths rule. Ahh, well - ManCandy can visit the little hussy when we go to see my mom.

In terms of knitting, I have nothing to show. The Super-Secret Project is about 3 hours from being done - I blocked it this weekend and need to add the embellishment, then send it off an wait for it to be received, then I can show you all pictures. I'm really quite proud of it, and it'll add a hefty chunk to my 12-Mile Quest.

In addition, the Girasole is also nearly done. I have 10 more rounds until I start the knitted-on border, and just a hair over 2 balls of yarn left. I stopped by Fibers up in Grass Valley this weekend to see if I could match the colorway, but decided against any yarn at all in favor of just hoping I have enough. If worse comes to worst, I can always have them ship me a ball of the current dyelot, which isn't different enough that it will matter much. I am simply trying to avoid ending up with extra yarn, and who knows? Those 2 balls might be plenty. Snerk. Also, it currently looks like a gigantic cherry red sea urchin. I'm hoping it blocks out.

Did you notice what I said up there? I got out of Fibers without buying anything. There is no bank record whatsoever that I was ever even there. How impressed are you? Mom was so impressed that she told everyone at the bbq that afternoon. Aren't moms great?!?

I did, however, get my KnitPicks order just before I left for The Farm. In it were 3 packets of stitch markers (lace, here I come!), 2 pairs of size 7 needles, and a few skeins of lace yarn. Four were the Gloss Lace in natural so that I can kettle-dye them (the colors only come in solids), and 3 skeins of Shadow yarn in Cattail Heather:

It's a weirder green than in this picture - I've been having color trouble with the snooty camera lately, but in this case it's just because this particular green is so awesome it defies photography. I'm going to knit it into a something-or-other in time for a Very Awkward Conversation that's coming up - something from the deep dark past that needs to be exorcised (and nothing to do with ManCandy, so don't worry). Come to think of it, you guys might have some good ideas. I need a stunning, gorgeous-yet-simple "oh, yes, I DID make this, and yes, I'm very talented" sort of stole. It should also say "oh, this old thing?" if at all possible. Perhaps something by Anne Hanson? Something in which I can wrap myself against any emotional onslaught - self-generated or otherwise - and be safe. Suggestions are welcome, although I begin to suspect that a well-cultivated air of je ne sais quoi might help immensely. I'll get right on that.

In the mean time, I'm going to go finish the Super-Secret Project so that it can be revealed!

King of the Hill!

I finished washing, thwacking and drying the Crown Mountain Farms "Lord of the Mountains" BFL today:


It came out to 546 yards of 2-ply. I'm not entirely sure what happened to my ability to make 900 yards of 3-ply out of the same amount to yarn, but I suspect it has something to do with patience in spinning thin singles. I seem to have been spinning for speed lately, and it shows.


But then again, I'm happy with the yarn and happy that it's finished. Maybe it's just a phase I'm going through. On the plus side, it's squooshy and sproingy and stretchy - even ManCandy commented on how elastic it feels.

There's nothing quite like squishing a skein of your own handspun and having it respond by bouncing back into shape. There's a very "I DID THIS!" feeling about it, much like blocking lace.

"Lord of the Mountains," Crown Mountain Farms BFL
2-ply, 546 yds.

Ok, now back to the final hours of the proverbial grindstone...

Second Verse

Some pictures of random things happening around my house:

"Soul Windows," April '09 Spunky Club SW Corriedale

Well, Amy did it. This is the third shipment I've gotten from the Spunky Club, and by far my favorite. It's encouraged me to stick around for another shipment, but I'm still not 100% sure how long I'll keep it up. It's nothing against Amy or her dyeing or products; I'm simply not sure how well her taste meshes with mine. But this month? Gorgeous. I love it.

"Ivory Coast" BFL, Crown Mountain Farms, 2-ply, 279 yds (575 total)

I finished plying! And then I soaked and thwacked and measured, and it's only about 20 yards shorter than the first skein - but you'll have to take my word for it because I seem to have misplaced skein #1. ARGH. Well, once school is done the house is due for a major over-haul. I bought clear, 71-quart plastic bins at Target this weekend to help with the stash wrangling, but I haven't had time to organize. Hopefully once I do, the missing skein of handspun will turn up. In the mean time, this pushes me over into Mile 4!

Bobbin #1, CMF BFL, "Lord of the Mountains"

I spent last night working on bobbin #2 while watching nearly the entire season of Castle (SO fun, I loved it!), and there are probably another 2 hours-worth of spinning before I'm done with these singles. I'm excited to ply this project! I'm in that part of the learning curve with spinning where I just have to do it a lot and let my body memorize the rhythm while my eyes and fingers learn to spot potential problems. I think once I feel more comfortable with the actual spinning itself, I'll be able to work on getting slightly thinner singles for better sock and/or lace yarn.

I'm also going to try to finish this one up ASAP because I fell down a little at Bee Mice Elf and ordered 2 braids of beautifully dyed stuff that is on its way to me right now. I'm gonna wait to open the package until the LotM is done so that there's an even ratio of in-to-out, for once. No promises on whether it'll ever happen again!

The Super-Secret Project continues apace. I'm roughly 30 rows from the i-cord bind off, and I've been working on it a lot. It now has about the same number of stitches as Big Red - 640 - and it'll probably end up around 700+. Whew! I've got some ideas as to how to make the knitting a bit more mindless than it is right now - the 3-into-1 decrease isn't very conducive to using stitch markers, but a [k2tog,k1,ssk] would achieve the same result and make the visual line a little cleaner. It's not super-fun to knit, but it is entertaining to show it to people and have them exclaim over how cool it will be when it's done, so I'll probably end up making another one with the new decreases.

And lastly, here's a little experiment that's been happening in my kitchen without my knowledge. I picked up a mesh bag with onions in it the other, turned it over, and discovered this:

Cthulu Onion!

Curious to see what it would do, I just left it there in the shade. It's now about twice as high and reaching for the light from the nearby window. Maybe I'll plant it, since it seems so interested in growing. But then again, we all know how miserable I am at growing things, so perhaps it's better if I just let it do its own thing for as long as possible!

Off to finish up the spinning before I head to work!

Things With Which I Am Nearly Done

- The Super-Secret Project has 45 rows until the i-cord border.

- A photoshopping project for an art gallery in Oakland has a mere 15 images left.

- Still Big Red has 16 rows until the knitted-on border.

- There is only $500 left on a loan I took out ages ago, and it will be paid off by the end of next week.

- The Ivory Coast singles are spun and waiting to be plied.

- The French press is nearly empty.

- In exactly 9 days and after 12 years, 6 majors, 1 false alarm, $120,000 and about 500 visits to the counselor's office to double-check my credits, I will be done with my Bachelor's degree.

Title-free and Proud

Today's blog post is brought to you by the few remaining brain cells I have left.

Last night, my good friend Nadia and I headed up to San Francisco to have dinner and drinks with an old friend of mine from New York City. General Leigh and I dated for about 3 seconds, five years ago, and have been good chums ever since, so when his work brings him out to the Bay Area, we make a special effort to get together. We have great fun re-hashing the Good Ol' Days (tm) and swapping ridiculous compliments - the more ridiculous the better, and to the most ludicrous goes the prize. It's always great fun, but I always wake up the next day exhausted. Thus do we begin to show our age.

But the blog roll goes on, and I have a few things to tidy up before I move on to bigger and better things. Or knits. Or whatever. Remember, we're operating on fewer cylinders and less coffee than normal.

First, here is an only slightly accurate photo of the Papa Socks, which I sent up to Alaska on Tuesday:


The blue part is about right, but the brown declined to show up. I have no idea why. Here is a more accurate photo via The Loopy Ewe.

I also finished my Scarf #21 and blocked it in time to wear it out last night!
Scarf with Insert #21 (etc.) from Victorian Lace Today
Schaefer Anne, "Autumn," 560 yds.

And it's only slightly off it's blocking from last night's festivities!

I'm excited to have finished a lace project for ME. There is something about being swathed in lace I've made myself that makes me stand up straighter. It's a lovely feeling.

Speaking of lace, I'm still plugging away on Big Red. I made it to the last page, but I've also finished the final increases to 640 stitches, and it's suddenly taking a LOT longer to finish a round! I'm also slightly concerned about the shedding factor of the Frog Tree Alpaca I'm using. I can't think of anything I'll be able to wear it with that won't also show off the shed fibers once I take it off. This one might have to become a chair shawl, but I love it too much to quit, rip it out, or put it in time out. And there's plenty of time to decide what to do with it after I've finished knitting.

In other news, a big virtual cookie for Brie! You're totally right, I did finish my Infernal Ribbi Cardi! Well, actually Mom finished it for me. When she was here in February for Stitches, she pulled it off the shelf and demanded to know why I hadn't worn it yet. When I answered that it needed a zipper, she stuffed it in her bag and took it home with her to complete. And while I was up at her place a couple of weeks ago, she did indeed finish it for me. It's slightly big all around - it turns out I'm closer to a 36 than I thought, or perhaps closer to a 36 than when I first made the sweater - but I still like it and it's garnered many excellent compliments. I'll take a picture in it one of these days.

I'm thinking seriously about swatching for the Faux Russian Stole from A Gathering of Lace. Or maybe something from Knitted Lace of Estonia. I have a mess of Malabrigo Lace singles that are burning a hole in my stash, and we can't have that, can we?

That's about it for knitting news. We're headed out tonight to drool into our popcorn over Wolverine. Mrowr!

Vacation Recap, Episode 2: All the Other Stuff, Plus What I Forgot The First Time Around

Let's see. We flew into Ontario airport, met up with The Rest of the Fam and headed straight for Disneyland. I don't really have a huge amount to say other than we had a great time, enjoyed ourselves immensely, and that if a picture is worth 1000 words, then my Flickr set is worth about a quarter of a million.

Highlights? Well, if you insist!

Doing our time

The Three Alexanders (yes, three Alexanders, they say they are birds of a feaaaatheeeer)

Self-portrait

She was very perplexed by my existence.

THB's best girl-catching face

So yea, Disney was awesome as usual. Plus I got a bunch of crying baby pictures, which is a double-bonus. What can I say, I've been to Disneyland a bunch of times, and it gives me something to do!

OH! Guess what!!! Take a look over at the sidebar of WIP's and tell me if you can see what's missing. I'll give you a hint - it's something that has been there pretty much for-ev-er. And it's donedonedone! A virtual cookie for the first person to figure it out!

Also, I finished my Papa Socks. They're sort of unphotographable (Mozilla doesn't think that "unphotographable" is a word, but phooey on Mozilla!), but I'll try. For now, I'm claiming my yardage: 361. I'm going to bundle them up to send to Alaska tomorrow.

And I've been working on my Scarf #21 (Rav link for Cathy!). I'm thisclose to having the bloody center repeat memorized, and I'd say I'm about 1/2 way done with the body. Once I get pretty close to running out of yarn, I'll just graft the second end piece on, and block, and voila! Done! I have noticed, however, that it's difficult to judge how many inches I've put on the stole in a sitting. I've reached that interminable point in the ball of yarn where it doesn't seem to be getting smaller - even when I've been knitting steadily for an hour or more. So I've taken to putting a locking stitch marker on at the beginning of my knitting session, and now I can admire how much I'm getting done with perfect accuracy. I'd take pictures, but it really looks exactly the same as last time I showed it to you - only now it's a bit longer.

Let's see, what else? ManCandy and I have spent the last week scratching our heads as to how Panza is getting off of our netted-in porch. We pushed on all the slats, wired the outer door shut despite the fact that Panza won't push open a regular door (he's a bit of a wuss), and used IKEA technology to secure the netting even more.. securely... to the stucco wall. Meanwhile, the litter boxes are in the living room and neither kitty can go outside without direct supervision. Tonight we opened the porch and let them outside to see if we could figure out how the little pooper is getting outside - there had to be a cat-sized hole somewhere!

And there was. The netting leaves a space about 1.5 feet between its top and the porch roof. He's been climbing the porch support posts, hauling all of his 15 pounds over the netting, and jumping down onto the concrete. Now I know I should have probably thought of this before, but I've never had a cat that climbed things. I know they like to go up trees and such for fun, but none of my felines has ever been inclined that way, including Panza. But apparently the lure of the Great Outdoors was enough, and now we need more netting and an industrial staple gun before they can go outside again. Bloody cats!

Mr. Darcy, I feel it necessary to add, has made no attempts to climb fence posts. He says it might wreck his nails.

I came home to a bunch of presents! And then I opened them, and it was just like Christmas without the turkey and the quiet contemplation of the tree in the middle of the night and the gifts you don't really like. So I guess it wasn't like Christmas much, but I did get to unwrap stuff!
Can you guess what these are?

They unwrapped to become this:
You're looking at the aftermath of the Crown Mountain Farms sale I mentioned before I headed to Mom's, and it completely erased any vestigial sadness I felt about spinning up more of my CMF stash. Now all I need to do is spin thinner so I can get 1000 yards out of 4 ounces like Miss Alice Faye! I think I just need to dedicate 4 ounces of nice stuff to get better at spindle spinning. Maybe I'll go digging and do that now instead of school work...

Vacation Recap, Episode 1: A Bit of Anne Accident

I am returned home! Whew. This last week was vacation turned on its head: the relaxing part was at the beginning, and the running-around-all-crazy part ended about 22 hours ago. I'll begin at the beginning; I hear it's a very good place to start.

Last Saturday, loaded down with clothes, laptop, and Jasmin's Louet Victoria, I hopped a train to THB's house near Sacramento. We hung out at his place for a bit, then went to the home of some old family friends, where we played poker into the wee sma's. They tried to convince us to just stay the night - THB's fully sanctioned relationship with Chickadee, their eldest daughter, may have had something to do with it - but a call to our Mother Ship ended that idea. She (Mom) bartered with Pauline with me as an intermediary, and because she's our mommy, she won. Her victory was sealed unwittingly by Chickadee, who announced quite indignantly that, should THB and I go home instead of staying over until the next day (not actually a bad idea, as we were all going to have Easter dinner together), we wouldn't even eat breakfast until around nine in the morning. The shock! The shame! We might starve by then! THB promptly pointed out that in order to have breakfast at nine, we'd have to be up by about 8:30, and that a 10 or even 11 o'clock start time would probably be more likely. So we went home to the Mother Ship, where we and our sleeping patterns are understood.

Our breakfast was at 11. They ate at 7:30.

We trekked back to their house for ham, more poker,

and an old-fashioned Easter Egg Hunt the next day, then Mom and I settled in for a few days of nothing but hanging out. It didn't go exactly as planned, but it was close enough! I finished my Mysterious Mirror Socks with only about 500 mistakes in the leg of the second sock, which I'm calling a win because they fit anyway:

Pigeonroof Studios OOAK Sock yarn, 336 yds.

I also managed to spin, ply and set some of my mountain of Crown Mountain BFL:

"Ivory Coast" CMF BFL, 296 yds.

It's not as thin as I had hoped, but it pretty much spun itself so I have no complaints. Plus I have approximately my own weight in unspun CMF. More on that later. This is 1/2 of the 8 oz. bump; the rest is already divided in 2 and waiting its turn on the wheel.

In addition, I started some socks for my dad out of some ancient Lorna's Laces from my stash - I think it's "Pioneer," but I'm not certain. Any road, it's a color that doesn't photograph well, so no pictures until I can get some awesome light. They're my plain vanilla sock pattern with a k3p1 rib on the instep and up the leg; I turned the second heel at work today and should be done with the pair by tomorrow.

I'm quite proud of my packing prowess this trip. I only packed one set of sock needles and just brought yarn that would work. I also only over-estimated how much spinning I would accomplish by about 12 ounces, which is a step up from my precedent. I planned to spin more, but I got interrupted by a Super Secret (Unfinished) Project that will have to wait for my next trip to the Mother Ship before I reveal it.

But, as usual, my acquisitions out-weighed my completions by oh, a bunch. Maybe a lot. Perhaps even a ginormous amount. I may have had a Schaefer Accident. It started innocently enough; Mom's old boss now runs a yarn store, and we stopped in to see her. I didn't notice the Schaefer at first, but I knew she carried it because that store is where my addiction began with a skein of Lola. So I asked, and received.

And received again:

I may have clutched them to my bosom and announced to Mom that one does not leave one's children to the mercy of strangers, no matter how nice they may appear to be. I have never been accused of being undramatic.

Mom dropped me off with THB on Thursday night, but we got to his freeway exit really early and it just so happens that he lives around the corner from a big yarn store. So of course, that's where we whiled away the time it took THB to get home from work. They were having a sale, and Mom picked up some Tofutsies and some Elsebeth Lavold Silky Tweed for half off, while I stuck to the full-priced yarn because that's how I roll. And because it's what I couldn't live without, really.

The best find was 2 skeins of the same colorway of my very first skein of Anne. That one's been sitting quietly on the shelf in pride of place, refusing to tell me what it wanted to be. Now it's been rejoined to its sister skeins, and perhaps it will start talking.


On Friday morning, THB, Chickadee and I all hopped a plane for Ontario, CA, where we were met by my dad, youngest brother, and ManCandy for 3 days at Disney. Then I came home to a plethora of boxes, including a really big one that I can't unwrap until this weekend. More to come!

Also - I'm podcasting tomorrow. For real.

Rolling In It

Lately I've been on a spinning kick. The 10 Minutes Per Day group on Ravelry has probably had some thing to do with it, but it's also likely due in part to the fleeces from the Wool Auction looming on the horizon.

When I arrived home today, it was to a big ol' box of puffy, gorgeous coils from Sherri at Morro Fleece Works:

Cat added for scale.

It contained bag after bag of beautiful, squooshy, wool that apparently smells like sheep, 'cause it took Mr. Darcy all of about 2 seconds to go from sitting quietly next to the box to this:

And believe me when I say that the usual amount of hand clapping and "HEY!" had absolutely zero effect on either his purr or his enjoyment of the new wool.

So for comparison purposes, this became this:

3 lb. 14 oz of CVMxRomedale from Patti Sexton

And this became this:

2 lb 14 oz of CVM from Fredine Johansen

And I don't really recall, but did I show you the 1/2 fleece I split with Jasmin? Here it is:

CVM fleece from Patti Sexton

I know I said in the wool auction post that I'd wait to visit Terry Mendenhall until spring, but since it took 8 months to get the fleeces back (Sherri was wicked busy!), I think maybe next spring might be a better idea. It'll take me at least that long to spin up all of my bounty!

A couple of other things have been going on. I joined the Spunky Eclectic fiber club back at the end of January, so I've gotten 2 shipments of her club so far. The first offering was... well, let's just say I didn't like it. At all. In fact, I loathed it so much that I put it back in the box and promptly forgot all about it until I stumbled across the "trade me" thread on the Spunky Ravelry board. I found someone who wanted all 8 oz and we arranged a trade - of which I'm pretty certain I got the better end of the deal, but I'll let you be the judge.

I traded this:

Spunky Eclectic Feb. 09 Fiber Club: "New Day" Corriedale

For this:

4 oz. Spunky Eclectic BFL, "Rocky Mtn. High"

and this:

Spunky Eclectic BFL, "Neapolitan"

The March offering was 8 oz. of BFL as well, in "Myrtle," which is blue and red and green and brown. I'm not 100% sold on it, but I like it much better than my first club colorway. I'll give it another month, and then if I'm not thrilled I think I'll drop out. So far the only consistently awesome color-of-the-month club I've been in is the Black Bunny Fibers Club 2 (we're the second group). Carol puts a ton of thought into each mailing, and everyone gets their own colorway of the group fiber. For example, this last time around she sent us about 6 oz. of this a-MAZ-ing merino/bamboo, and this one is mine:

Stunning, isn't it? Every colorway that Carol has made for me is absolutely gorgeous. Someday I'll start spinning them up... /facepalm

Now, if you'll excuse me, Crown Mountain Farms is having their yearly Spring Sale, and I may just conveniently forget that I spent an entire post telling you about how much freakin' wool there is in my living room...

The Last Straw

4/7 @ 11am **There's an update at the bottom of the post!**

::Italics and !!! and ALL CAPS warning::

So graduating from SJSU has been what most people would call a "challenge." I started there in fall of 2006, and my transfer credits weren't applied until mid-spring in 2008, which shot my 2-year plan to hell. However, my credits were finally applied and I was finally able to turn in my graduation plan in summer of '08.

Then, as I began my third year this last fall, I got a message from Financial Aid that I had been at SJSU for too long (ya think?!?) and thus they were not giving me any more financial aid.

After writing them a somewhat snotty letter saying that if they wanted to blame someone for my lack of graduation, they should take it up with the transfer office because clearly they - the transfer office - had nothing better to do than sit on student transcripts for TWO YEARS, Financial Aid replied that they would grant me one more year to graduate. Fine.

The thing about applying for graduation 2 semesters in advance is that there is little-to-no schedule planned for that future second semester. So my advisor and I made up class numbers, and I planned to turn in what is called a "substitution form" in the spring, telling my graduation advisor which classes have changed. Because clearly she is INCAPABLE of looking at my transcript herself and figuring this shit out for herself. But she's new, so I filled out the form. Without, I may add, the help of the Art Department's graduation person, who quit in October after 35 years. The position is rumored to be open sometime this summer for applicants.

In early March, I trotted over to the graduation office and tried to turn in my form. No dice, they replied, it has to be signed by the department chair (whom I have never met) and also by the department secretary person in charge of such things. Who, you may recall, quit.

I got the required signatures - apparently the department secretary can sign for the empty seat - and went straight back. I turned in the form, the nice girl at the graduation desk stamped it, and handed me my graduation advisor's card.

And then I waited. And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally today I could stand it no longer and emailed my advisor:

Hi Advisor,

I turned in my substitution form back before spring break, but I haven't heard anything from you regarding my graduation status. Could you please fill me in on the status of my graduation? I'm getting a bit anxious, as you can imagine.

Thank you,
Tikabelle

This is the email I got back:

Tikabelle,

As of today, this is what you need to take. Just for your information I don't contact the students when updated are done to your file. You can contact me if you have any questions.

B2 Biol 10
F3 Pols 1
Area V & Major Arth 193A
Z 100W
Arth 294, 152, 183B
Art 2A need De Anza transcript can't locate this course


There are so many things wrong with this response, beginning with the fact that every class on the list is either a class I took last semester (Bio, Pols, Arth 152/183B/193A) or one I am currently taking (100W and 294), and ending with the shit-poor grammar. Also that she doesn't contact people to tell them their grad deadline is coming up and they still have a year's worth of classes on the requirement list, or for that matter that she never initiated contact with me at all. Also that I turned in my form in the beginning of March. Which was a month ago.

There are 6 weeks left in the semester. Six weeks, and my 12-year stint as an undergraduate is supposed to end, and it will, despite any challenges this so-called "advisor" puts in my way.

Dear Ms. Advisor,

I will be on campus tomorrow (Wednesday) from 9:30 until 1pm. Please let me know when in that time I can come see you, as this is a fairly important matter and I don't believe it will be solved by email. You can reach me at [redacted], or by email until 9am. Also, could you please send me your manager's email address and phone number, as I would like to address a couple of items to that office.

Thank you,
Tikabelle

Tomorrow, if my advisor doesn't give me a signed piece of paper saying that I will graduate in May, I will file a formal complaint with the school. And likely write a Very Angry Letter to the school paper. And maybe make an appointment with the school lawyers. Tomorrow is a makeup, skirt, and glasses day; stay tuned.

**UPDATE**

All is well. The classes I am taking are the only ones I still need, and everything will be fine provided I can get through this final semester without choking. Or falling down the stairs. Or.. you get the idea.

The Siren Song of Solitude

ManCandy left for his brother's wedding in Florida on Thursday morning, and returned this afternoon. He's currently crashed out after having been awake for 30 hours,* so my solitary stint continues in name, at least.

I am of a melancholy disposition. Not Byronic, or even Blakesian, but I do need time alone in my own space in order to feel comfortable and calm. This need doesn't mesh well with my terminal morning sickness, as ManCandy usually leaves an hour or two before I get up and gets home before I arrive back at Chez Us. So when he is called out of town - as infrequently as it happens - I tend to hole up in my apartment and enjoy the solitude.

This weekend was no different. I spent a blissful day and a half listening to nothing but the silence, the whirring of my Sonata, and the dulcet tones of Blair Waldorf freaking out.

During the Gossip Girl marathon, I managed to finish some things. I noticed that my new system of working on one project every day is productive, but slow going. I have the sense that a lot of things will get finished all at the same time, but meanwhile I am sadly lacking in yards to add to my 12-Mile Quest total. But in addition to spinning, I finished the stranded pattern on my EZ Seamless Yoke Sweater, and I'm currently charging up the collar. I'm a little scared that it'll be too big, so I'm going to do the final decreases and then a loose bind-off so I can try it on properly. I may have to rip back, and if so, I'm going to dramatically change the top of the sweater. But that's all in the future.

For now, here's what I've actually completed!

406 yds. of natural grey Lincoln/Corridale, 2-ply

For some reason, this yarn took up WAY more room than I expected. I filled 2 bobbins unto bursting with singles, then had to do the same in order to ply it. As you can see, I had to spill over into a third bobbin:

And yet, it still only came out to 406 yards. I don't get it, but it's still a lovely yarn. It's not as soft as I would like, but I think that's partly to do with the fleece and partly to do with how I spun it. I tried to spin woolen, but there's not a huge amount of crimp here so it didn't puff up like most yarns do. And also, I really have no experience with woolen spinning, so it was an experiment all 'round. In any case, it was satisfying and I'm glad this set is done - next time around I'll put more twist in the singles in the first place so I don't have to add it later!

I also finished 4 oz of Blackberry Truffle BFL roving from Dragonfibers. I got this roving probably about a year ago, and pulled it out using a very sophisticated system: dig out the bottom-most bin of fiber, pick a number, and use whatever ends up being the (in this case) 17th thing I pull out of the tub. I'm quite happy with it!

~341 yds., 2-ply

I should really start measuring my WPI, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.

In addition to all of that, I also worked on a Super Secret project (secret only because the recipient occasionally reads here). AND, on Sunday night, my good friends Jer and Elizabeth announced that they're due on October 12! I'll have to dig really deep to find something appropriate for their spawn...


* Numbers like this always make me happy that I can sleep on planes. I may not sleep deeply or well, and might occasionally have woken up with drool on my shirt, but I can sleep. Thank goodness!

An Open Letter

Dear Fellow Apartment Complex Residents,

I hope you enjoy the pool outside my window. It is very well-maintained and set in a lovely sunny spot, to be sure. The pool furniture is even mostly of this decade, which is an improvement over most apartment pools. It is clearly a lovely spot to take your kids after school, or on a weekend afternoon. However, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you of a few things.

First, the pool hours are until ten at night. This is not a suggested time, as we are grown-ups and are in bed by ten most nights. Also, the nice French-speaking people upstairs have a toddler who needs his sleep, or NO ONE sleeps. Not even us. So please, out by ten.

On a related note, the pool does not open again until nine in the morning, and this includes weekends. When your children wake you up at 6am on Saturday, please refrain from sending them down to the pool to scream. You bore them, now you have to bear them.

On another related note, if your children are screaming at the pool, take them home. If you are not there supervising them, I will seriously consider calling the police because I am tired unto death of having to yell out my window at children who are trying to a) drown one another or b) kill themselves by running around the pool.

Second - or possibly fourth - please do not have sex in the pool. Please. This relates intimately (har!) to point number three (or five):

We, of apartment six, can hear everything you say and do at the pool. Every. Little. Thing. We apologize for the inconvenience to your no-longer-private conversations, but the builders saw fit to give us single-paned windows and it's not our fault. So all those sweet nothings you drunk teenagers are whispering to one another, all those drug deals, all those midnight swims? We can hear them. Or witness them.

Thank you for your attention, and have a lovely summer! If you don't, we'll know about it.

Sincerely,

Tikabelle and ManCandy