Hacks, Semi-Hacks, and Good Ideas

     I tinker with things. I can't help it--sometimes it's necessary to mess with something to make it more efficient, or to make something more useful. These have picked up the inelegant name of "hacks." The word "hack" originally meant to cut something into pieces. It began to be used as a noun in the 1980s by computer people to refer to a piece of computer code. Since that time, the word has been attached to nearly everything that people tinker with to make more useful.

A Finnvard trestle studio stand

     There's an entire group of hacks that center on what one can do with furniture from IKEA, the well-known Swedish home furnishing chain. IKEA furniture--especially the cheaper, flat-pack stuff favored by college students--is great for hacking: it's cheap, plain, and modular. In many ways, it's the ground beef of home furnishings, and can be turned into a lot of different things.
     A lot of what's in the studio started off at IKEA: my work table/desk is a Gerton tabletop with Adils legs and a hutch (no longer available); a Finnvard adjustable trestle serves as a stand for my hand bobbin winders, my umbrella swift, my combs, or my hackle, depending on what I'm doing; an umbrella stand makes really good storage for yard sticks, long stick shuttles, and my monopod; while a partially-opened Bjursta extendable table is just the right size and height to be a stand for my table loom. The studio stays organized because I have a large collection of small wooden drawer sets and rattan baskets, all from IKEA. It's safe to say that my studio decor is "early IKEA," mostly because I can turn basic furnishings into what I need.
     The latest IKEA hack is a reed stand and additional storage. A stand for loom reeds--especially long reeds--is essential, as they will bend if not stored without weight on them. They're also horribly expensive: a decent reed stand (without additional storage) ranges from $250 to $400. I needed a better, less expensive solution.

The IKEA Ivar reed stand

     I cannot take credit for this idea: the original hack was by a woman on Ravelry who posted a picture of what she did with some unwanted IKEA furniture that had belonged to her college-age offspring. I liked it, but thought I could take it a bit further by using the taller version of the same shelving. The result is a seven-foot tall, skinny set of shelves above a reed stand that fits behind the door of the studio. This IKEA hack took the following materials (total cost about $65):

--2 84" Ivar bookcase ends
--5 Ivar 19" shelves
--1 Optimator stablizer
--2 19" long 1x3" pieces of pine
--4 36"x3/8" wooden dowels
--4 1 5/8" wood screws

My reeds (and some sticks),
all properly stored

It was a pretty easy task to assemble the Ivar bookcase, leaving a 48" gap between the bottom shelf and the next shelf. Once the bookcase was assembled, the real work began. I took each of the 1x3s and marked where I needed the dowels to go. After marking, I drilled holes most of the way through the 1x3s for the dowels (I used a drill press to get the holes the right depth), then cut the dowels into 6" lengths with the cutoff saw. Once that was done, it was a simple matter to tap the dowels into place with a mallet. The 1x3s are attached to the uprights for the bookcase at 15" and 30" from the bottom with the wood screws. The entire project only took a couple hours, and I have a reed stand with shelves above for various cans of oil, lube, starch, and air, my warping tools, my combs, and (at the very top) stuff I rarely use. Behind the reed stand are my two tallest (56") reeds: I decided that this was a better way to store them, rather than make the reed stand taller and need a step ladder to reach the shelves.
     All in all, I'm pretty pleased with how my new reed stand & storage turned out: my reeds are safe, I have more storage space (which filled up quickly), and I had a good time working with a bunch of power tools.
   



   

East Bay Mini-Maker Faire

Our display table. Bea, Cookie, and me, getting
ready to start teaching.

     What do you get when you cross a science fair, a county fair, and a clean, G-rated version of Burning Man? You get Maker Faire. The brain-child of those crazy individuals at MAKE magazine, the first Maker Faire was held in the San Franciso Bay Area in 2006. Since that time, it's grown to 2 large Maker Faires (Bay Area and NYC), about 60 smaller, one-day "Mini Maker Faires," and a couple of international Maker Faires.
     Sunday, October 20 was the 4th East Bay Mini-Maker Faire (EBMMF), one of the oldest and largest of the one-day "minis." As Spindles and Flyers (one of my two spinning guilds) has been active in the Maker movement, and has done something at every EBMMF since the start, a small group of us showed up on Sunday morning to teach spinning on drop-spindles made out of dowels, cup hooks, rubber grommets, and used CDs. We worked hard, we taught a lot of people (around 200 people by my estimate), and we had fun.
     The Mini is a good warm-up for the big Maker Faire in May (May 17-18, 2014): I found we need a lot of space for teaching, and I'm toying with the idea of setting up a "restricted space" to demonstrate some fiber arts techniques that aren't as "kid friendly" as drop spindle spinning.

Step One: Getting the fiber ready to spin.
That's me, running the drum carder.

Step Two: Spinning. Lorah is demonstrating
how to draft to a young spinner.

Step Three: Plying. Jill is helping a young spinner
turn her spun yarn into a 2-ply yarn.

Dress Journal #10: Corsets & Crinolines 1

     The innermost layer is done, so it's time to move on to creating the shape necessary to support the visible layers. By this, I mean the all-important corset and the petticoat(s).

The Corset

     First things first: In my book, the corset is not to give one a tiny, Scarlett O'Hara waist. It is not the 19th century version of Spanx. Instead, it is the 19th century equivalent of a good long-line bra: it provides support for the bosom. It also helps to transfer the weight of petticoats, crinoline, bustle, and skirt(s) to the hips in a more comfortable fashion than having all those drawstrings and waistbands sitting right on top of unprotected hip bones. I don't believe in tight-lacing: if that's your thing, more power to you, but I need to be able to breath, drive a car, and actually move and work in a corset, so I need to be comfortable, while having the appropriate shape and posture. As I'm both very short-waisted (all my height is in my legs), and thick-waisted (primarily due to age), I need a corset that will support my bosom without digging into my legs when I sit, and allow the freedom of movement that a lot of 21st century tasks (like driving a car) require. When I wear a properly fitted corset, my measurements don't change, but my shape does.
     During the times that women wore corsets, many women wore light-weight corsets for more strenuous activities such sports. In that respect, the corset was rather like today's sports bra. Many of these "active" corsets were of lighter materials, and frequently stiffened with cord rather than steel to allow the torso more flexibility. Really stiff cord is hard to find: on the other hand, weed-wacker line is not, so that's what I"m using to stiffen this particular corset.
     I started with the corset pattern from Simplicity 9725, then made adjustments to the pattern to fit my torso without requiring a great deal of tight-lacing. I'm using a heavy cotton twill and, unlike the pattern, this will be made of two layers sewn together to create the channels for the weed-wacker line. This corset is white, so I can wear it under light-colored outer layers. I am also parting from a traditional 19th century corset by using hook-and-eye tape rather than the more popular "pop" front busk: I have a terrible time getting the busk fastened by myself, and would like to be able to dress myself.
     The construction is fairly straight-forward. I number each of the pieces to keep them in order, and fairly quickly have the two halves of the corset ready to be sewn together. Before I start sewing the layers together, though, I sew the edge binding onto the "fashion" (outside) layer, so once the weed-wacker line is in, I can turn the binding over and hand-stitch it down. Once that is done, it's the mindless sewing of channels for the weed-wacker line, following the seam lines to get the correct contours. After several hours and lots of thread, I have two very well-quilted halves of a corset. Time for stiffening.
     I'm using .080 weed-wacker cord, and it takes a lot: the better part of a 175' roll of the stuff. Fortunately, it's not expensive (less than $10) and can be cut with a pair of cheap scissors. It's also stiff enough I can thread it into each of the channels without any additional tools.
     The biggest part of corset-building is a lot of handsewing. Binding the top edge. Binding the bottom edge. Stitching down the lace beading. It's slow work, but it's now done, and with a couple of adjustments, the corset is finished.
     Over all, it took about 4 6- to 8-hour days to build and finish this corset. Now, I can move on to the crinoline.

Finished

• Chemise
• Drawers
• Corded Petticoat
• Corset

   

Dress Journal #9: New Clothes Mean New Underwear

     Historic spinning demonstrations have become a hot commodity. I have three this year: one was in April at Ardenwood Farm in Fremont, and there are two upcoming ones--in October and December--at Bale Grist Mill State Historic Park, north of St. Helena. These are all circa 1855 demos, in "costume," so I need something appropriate to wear.
     "Costume" can be pretty broad when it comes to local historic sites. Most historic sites (Sutter's Fort in Sacramento is a notable exception) let their volunteer docents wear whatever they can manage in the historic clothing area; as a result, it's usually a hodge-podge of long quilting calico skirts, long-sleeved blouses, and aprons. The docents mean well, but I have to work to a different standard. It's how I roll.
     Fortunately, I have a big fabric stash, I know my way around a sewing machine, and I have the time to build proper clothes for these historic spinning demos. I have about 9 weeks before the next demo, so I dug out some pretty sage-green print for a mid-1850s basque waist and skirt, to be worn over starched petticoats (no hoop skirt--not period). The same skirt, with a different basque waist, can be used for Dickens Fair in December, so I'm covering a lot of bases with a few multi-tasking pieces. But first, I need underpinnings: chemise, drawers, corset, petticoats, stockings.
     The first layer is chemise and drawers. I haven't built (to completion) mid-19th century garments for more than twenty years, so new chemises and drawers are essential: this is the layer that goes into the washer and dryer after every wearing, so once I'm sure the pattern works, I build multiple sets (rather like having a well-stocked lingerie drawer).
     Speaking of patterns, I use (and heavily modify) commercial patterns. I can--and would--work with a sloper and do the pattern design myself, but I lack an essential tool: a close-by pair of experienced hands to do fittings on my body. My dress dummy was last fitted in 1984, and over the years the "sands of time" have shifted to the point that her figure is not anything like my figure. Fortunately, the variety and quality of commercial patterns has improved greatly in the past thirty years, so a lot of the alterations are to get the fit exactly the way I want it.

Simplicity #9769--Drawers

     For the chemise and drawer patterns, I'm using two of Simplicity's "The Fashion Historian" patterns, #9769 for the drawers and #5726 for the chemise, as I want a chemise without puffed sleeves. Both of these are pretty decent: the drawers pattern only needs adjustment for my size and measurements. On the other hand, I don't care for the "modern" version of the chemise, complete with faux drawstring. The beaded trim along with edges of the "sleeves" will be eliminated, the buttons and buttonholes abandoned, and the beading along the neck will be functional.
     I'm in luck! At some point in the past couple of years, I started work on some mid-century clothes to wear to Dickens Fair, and already cut out and started to sew a set of drawers from this pattern. They just needed finishing, so a couple hours later, I had a set of drawers.

Simplicity #5726--Chemise

     The chemise needed to be started "from scratch." As I was digging around in the sewing room, I came upon fifteen yards of cotton batiste, so it went into the washing machine as I started to make the adjustments to the pattern. Once finished (and the batiste was dried and pressed), it was a simple matter to lay out the pattern, cut it out, and sew the chemise. In the process, I remembered why I hate flat-felled seams: either do them on the sewing machine and suffer scorched fingers as the raw edges are turned under and pressed, or do them by hand and take a lot longer. I'm glad to report that my scorched fingers are doing just fine.
     By the end of the day, I had a chemise and a set of drawers that only needed some minor handsewing (neckline, waistband, drawstrings). I also need a spool of lavender ribbon to thread through the beading on the chemise and drawers, but that will have to wait until Wednesday's trip to the fabric store.

Finished

• Chemise
• Drawers   

Good-bye to Old Friends; Hello to New Friends

The Gilmore is gone. After 18 years of faithful service, including the occasional mishap (why I don't weave with a temple) and tangled warp, I've sold my big (46" weaving width) 4-harness/6-treadle floor loom, and we delivered it to a very nice young woman down in the South Bay.

The Gilmore, with the last warp--twill tablecloths.

I found the Gilmore through a 3x5" card tacked to a bulletin board at Straw Into Gold, the Bay Area's legendary fiber arts store, in early 1995. It was being sold by a production weaver (she wove saddle blankets) who was "retiring" because her shoulders couldn't stand the stress of weaving with a heavy beater. She sold me nearly her entire studio--the loom, all the bits and pieces a weaver collects, nearly all of her tools, her small weaving library, and her entire stash (about 200 pounds of yarns)--and kept only her spinning wheel and her Gilmore Gem 8-shaft workshop loom. We carted everything home, lugged the Gilmore up the stairs (we put a gouge in the wainscoting that is still there in the process), and got it installed in what was then my studio (now my sewing room). I removed the ten pounds of lead weights attached to the beater, added more heddles, warped it, and quickly learned all the quirks and idiosyncrasies of a Gilmore jack loom.

A lot of yarn has been turned into cloth on the Gilmore. I've woven everything from the rug next to the bed (the first thing and last thing my feet touch every day is something I've woven) to scarves and shawls on it. The last project on the loom was a pair of cotton twill tablecloths that I finished in early June. 

It was a pang to let the Gilmore go, but it was time. I needed a larger, more complex loom that is more versatile. I also needed to move to a loom that I didn't have to fold up to dress--the Gilmore weighs close to 200 pounds, and closing up a 200-pound loom by myself was getting to be a little bit of a struggle. 

Exit, the Gilmore. Enter, the Macomber.

Mongo the Macomber--my 56" 16H/23T loom

I wasn't planning on getting a loom this big. I was looking for an 8-shaft workshop loom to replace my Baby Wolf, and had reduced my "short list" to two looms: a Gilmore Gem or a Macomber CP, better known as a "Baby Mac." Then, in May, I found the Macomber through Ravelry's Warped Weavers Marketplace. It was big (56" weaving width), it was complex (16 shafts), it was a good price, I wasn't going to have to lift and close a 200-pound loom, it was in...Southern California, about 450 miles south of me. No matter--I checked the measurements from Macoomber, measured the back of the pick-up truck, and closed the deal. It took three days to drive down to Southern California, load the loom, drive back up to the Bay Area, and roll the loom--on furniture dollies--into the garage, but we did it. I spent the next two weeks finishing off the tablecloth warp, rearranging the studio, moving the Gilmore down to the dining room (no scratches in the stairwell this time), then completely disassembling the Macomber so it would be small enough and light enough for two middle-aged people to lug it up the stairs to the studio.

It's said that to really know a piece of equipment, take it apart and successfully put it back together again. I feel like I really know this loom, as I've reassembled it from the ground up. Along the way, the Macomber picked up a nickname--Mongo--after Alex Karras' character in the Mel Brooks movie Blazing Saddles. Mongo is officially Macomber B4 #6636 (of the black name plate, Saugus MA series), built around 1968-1970, and sold to California State University Fullerton for their textile arts program. The university did not skimp on the "bells and whistles." Mongo has two plain warp beams--one with a friction brake and one with a ratchet brake--along with a warp separator bar, and plenty of room for four additional harnesses. As a school loom, he's suffered some indignities--including a warp being painted on the loom--but served well until the university eliminated the program in the early 2000s. I suspect he was used primarily as a rug loom: the warp painting debacle was with warps spaced 1/4-inch apart, and there were only about 50 heddles on each shaft. As I reassembled Mongo, I cleaned and burnished the metal parts with extra-fine steel wool, then gave them a coat of silicone, cleaned and waxed the wood, and added the extra treadles (now 23) and heddles (now 300 per shaft) to make Mongo a loom I can use.

I've now woven a couple of warps on Mongo, and I like my new friend a lot. There are still a few adjustments to be made: the weaving bench Bob Allen of Gilmore made for me a few years ago is a couple inches shorter than I really need to feel comfortable weaving, and I'd like to swap out the plain warp beam for a sectional warp beam as I really need to weave warps longer than my warping board. With these small adjustments, Mongo is a loom I will be weaving on for a very long time.

Turning the Page

A big chapter of my life ended on June 30th. After 17 years of worrying about lesson plans, grades, keeping a classroom safe and productive, and all the other tasks that go along with being a full-time high school teacher, I have finally retired. It's a little earlier than I expected (I'm only 57), but it was time for me to move on to other things.

I have never been a "typical" teacher. I've tried to make room in my overly busy life for my friends, my hobbies, and my passions. I've never let teaching define a big part of who I am. As a result, retirement from teaching simply means I don't have to start worrying about lesson plans at the beginning of August, and getting up before the sun (and the students) once school starts in mid-August.

So, what am I doing to fill my "empty" hours? We will now pause for everyone to laugh hysterically. OK, enough of that. I started my own business as a fiber artist. Its name is Cal-Oro Fibrewerks. I have a tiny, tiny store on Etsy, a Facebook page, and I'm busy turning out handpainted fibers, handspun yarns, and handwoven textiles for people to love and (hopefully) buy. That's taking up a lot of my time, and I've never been happier.

In addition to the new business, I have a couple new "jobs." I'm now the president of the local historic preservation non-profit. I joined another fiber arts guild (Silverado Handweavers) and am serving as guild's liaison to the regional fiber arts organization.

I'm also doing some additional costuming, both for some historic spinning demonstrations, and for attending some Steampunk events. I think I even have time to start writing my blog again.

Basically, I'm busier than I've ever been, and a lot happier about it. Turning this page has been a very good thing.

Yarn Washing Day

Once again, I've accumulated a large quantity of yarns that need to be washed. A lot of it is handspun awaiting wet-finishing; the rest is millspun from an unraveled sweater, then quickly run through the indigo pot. No matter its origin, it all needs to be washed.

I like yarn washing during the summer. It's dry, and I can use my drying rack outside. It's also warm (it's forecast to be 82F today), so my yarn dries in a few hours. This is today's washing (before):


The green is about 1,100 yards of green multi-color merino top from Ashland Bay Trading Co. that's been spun into a nice tweed worsted-weight yarn. The little skein of wildly-colored yarn is a 2-ply sock weight superwash merino that I handpainted and spun at some point last year, but never got around to plying until this morning. The white is more of the Falklands 2-ply; again, I don't remember exactly when I spun it, but I plied it just this last week. Finally, there's all the wool/viscose/angora millspun worsted-weight that came from a sweater I unraveled in April. It used to be brighter, but a quick dip in the indigo pot calmed down the turquoise and knocked back the blinding white.

Washing (really, wet-finishing) is a fairly aggressive process. I use the technique recommended by Judith MacKenzie McCuin, which involves soap, boiling hot water, ice cold water, and a small sink plunger. If you want more information on how to wet-finish yarns in this fashion, check out Judith's article "Wet Finishes for Yarn" in the Summer, 2007 issue of Spin-Off magazine. I finish off the wet-finishing process by "thwacking" the skeins on the side of the claw-foot tub before hanging them out to dry on the drying rack: it straightens and settles the yarns into place, and is good for releasing any frustrations.

Once the yarns are hanging, I can forget about them. My drying rack is on the upstairs porch, on the north side of the house, so there's no direct sunlight that might fade the yarns. It's also up high enough that ground-based critters can't get up there, so the yarns are safe.

So, this is what it looks like when everything is dry again. How much yarn is hanging on the rack? I don't know exactly, but somewhere in the neighborhood of 3,000 yards, of which about 1,500 is handspun. It's a good couple of weeks of work.

Wool Washing 101

I get asked "How do you wash wool?" a lot, especially during the summer when raw fleeces are most available. In the interests of time and my decided dislike for repeating myself ad nauseum, I'm putting a full set of directions here. First though, I'd like to thank Paula Shull, fiber artist extraordinaire, for teaching me the basics of washing wool--my method is based on her method, and it works.

To Wash Wool

1 raw fleece
Large flat work surface
7-10 yards nylon netting
Scissors
20-50 small rubber bands
2 24x36 mesh lingerie/laundry bags
1 top-loading washing machine
60 gallons very hot water (above 140 degrees)
1 stick or large wooden spoon
1 kitchen timer
1 cup Dawn dishwashing liquid
1/2 cup white vinegar

The key to easy washing is selecting good fleeces. The less dirt and vegetative matter (VM) in a fleece, the easier the fleece is going to clean up and prepare for spinning. Bargain fleeces can be cleaned up and made spinnable, but they require a lot of time and work; when the time and irritation is factored in, a $5/lb. fleece frequently costs more than a $10/lb. fleece.

Step 1: Skirting
Even award-winning, show-quality fleeces sometimes need a bit of skirting, and regular fleeces frequently need a bit more. Skirting removes the worst of the stuff that won't be used anyway, and keeps it away from the wool that will ultimately go through the combs or carder and be turned into yarn.

To skirt a fleece, simply roll it out on a very large, flat surface: I spread a big blue tarp on the driveway, then slide the fleece out of the bag and roll it out. Fleeces are usually rolled the same way--folded lengthwise with the freshly sheared side out, then rolled from head to tail and stuffed in a large plastic bag--so unrolling it should be pretty easy. Once the fleece is unrolled, pick out any obvious VM, and go around the edges of the fleece, pulling away the short bits and dung tags. As you work, pick up the fleece as best you can and give it a good shake to remove any loose second-cuts: if left in, those will end up as nepps.

Step 2: Washing
The water for wool washing must be hot and plentiful. Turn the setting on the hot water heater to the maximum and leave it for at least 8 hours before checking the temperature of the hot water coming out of the tap (if the hot water supply is shared with other members of a family, let them know the hot water is very hot; no one likes being scalded). If it's still under 140 degrees, plan on washing smaller quantities of fleece at a time on the stovetop, or contact a plumbing contractor about a new hot water heater.

Cut at least several pieces of nylon netting 24 inches x the width of the nylon netting (usually 72 inches) with the scissors.

Working along the raddle lines (the places where the locks naturally separate), break the fleece down into dinner-plate-sized pieces. Take a piece and set it in the middle of a spread-out piece of nylon netting, then gently wrap the nylon netting over the fleece. Continue wrapping until you have a large "sausage" of nylon netting stuffed with the piece of fleece. Put a rubber band at each end of the "sausage" to keep the nylon netting in place. Keep making "sausages" until the entire fleece is broken down and wrapped in nylon netting.

Fill each lingerie bag with one layer (about 6) sausages, then close each lingerie bag.

Fill the washer with hot water and turn off. Dissolve 1 cup of Dawn dishwashing liquid in the hot water, then add the lingerie bags of wool, pushing them beneath the surface with a stick or wooden spoon. Close the lid, set the timer for 40 minutes, and walk away.

At the end of 20 minutes, turn the washer setting knob to "Spin" to drain the washer and spin out the wash water. Do not use a Spin setting that adds water during the cycle. Remove the bags of wool and set them aside, then refill the washer with hot water and turn off. Add the bags of wool, push them beneath the surface, close the lid, and set the timer for another 20 minutes.

At the end of the second 20 minutes, turn the washer setting knob to "Spin" to drain the washer and spin out the water. Again, remove the bags of wool and set them aside while filling the washer. When the washer is filled, add the vinegar, stir, then add the bags of wool, pushing them beneath the surface. Close the lid and set the timer for 20 minutes.

Step 3: Drying
At the end of the third 20-minute period, drain and spin the washer and remove the bags of wool. Open the lingerie bags and remove the sausages. Open each of the sausages and carefully spread the wool to dry on a drying rack in an airy place, preferably out of direct sunlight. As the wool drys, feel the wool: does it feel clean? If not, roll the sausages back up and repeat the washing steps. I have found that medium-grease fleeces such as Romney and Corriedale just need one washing; high-grease fleeces such as Cormo and Rambouillet need two.

Step 4: Storing
Once the wool is completely dry, store it in a cool, dark place. I use 12-gallon plastic storage bins as I can simply stack the wool in the box with the nylon netting it was washed and dried in dividing the layers. This preserves the lock structure for combing.

Teaching as Competitive Sport

     Yay! The Summer Olympics are currently going on in London, and lots of happy athletes are taking home gold, silver, and bronze medals. I've spent far too much time in front of the TV or the computer, watching the coverage and knitting.
     Right on the heels of the Summer Games is the start of the school year. My first official day back is Thursday, August 16, but if I want to take advantage of the District's "Buy Back" days (basically, extra days of work for which I am paid somewhat less than my actual salary) I have to be at two day-long meetings beginning on Tuesday, August 14. The kids come back to school on Monday, August 20, and the long grind to next June begins again.
     The Olympics and the start of the school year got me thinking about the similarities between teachers and Olympic athletes. There are actually many similarities. Here's a list:

1. Olympic athletes get up at ungodly hours to train. Teachers get up at ungodly hours to write lesson plans, prepare for the day, and grade papers.
2. Olympic athletes give up a great many things--including personal lives--to focus on their sport. Teachers give up a great many things--including personal lives--to focus on their jobs.
3. Olympic athletes do not make a great deal of money (unless they get lucrative endorsement contracts). Teachers do not make a great deal of money (unless they get lucrative administrative consultant contracts).
4. Olympic athletes are scrutinized and scored on every little nuance of their performance on the playing field. Teachers are scrutinized and scored on every little nuance of their performance in the classroom.
5. Olympic athletes spend many years and thousands of hours perfecting their sport. Teachers spend many years and thousands of hours perfecting their teaching.
6. The best Olympic athletes learn to adapt quickly to changing circumstances (e.g., Michael Phelps' goggles breaking during the 2008 200 Butterfly Final) to minimize disrupting their performance. The best teachers learn to adapt quickly to changing circumstances (e.g., moving a classroom with 24 hours notice) to minimize disrupting the learning environment.
7. Many Olympic athletes have a "kick": an extra bit of speed for the end of a race. Many teachers have a "kick": they use it to finish covering content in the two weeks between the end of Spring Break and the start of state-mandated testing.
8. Olympic athletes make the difficult/impossible (e.g., a 2 1/2 inward with 2 1/2 twists off the 10-meter platform) look easy. Teachers make the difficult/impossible (e.g., Calculus) look easy.
9. Armchair athletes around the world see an Olympic athlete perform and think, "Heck, I could do that." They can't, but they think they can. State legislators and the public see a teacher teaching and think, "Heck, I could do that." They can't, but they think they can.

Games: Olympic, Knitting, and Rules for Both

     Tick, tick, tick...in less than 24 hours, the 2012 Summer Olympics will officially start in London, England. The Games have already started, as Women's Soccer kicked off yesterday with 6 matches (and the US Women's Soccer Team won their match against France, 4-2), but the Opening Ceremonies are Friday evening and the first medals will be awarded on Saturday.
     Also starting in less than 24 hours are the 2012 Ravellenic Games. After the USOC got their collective panties in a bunch over a bunch of (primarily) women calling a good-natured online excuse to spend many hours knitting, crocheting, or spinning while watching the Olympics coverage on TV the "Ravelympics" the name had to be changed. They were the Ravelympics in 2008, when 5,600+ people completed more than 16,000 needlework projects. They were the Ravelympics in 2010 when, during the 2010 Winter Olympics, 4,151 people knitted and crocheted through all that ice dancing and curling competitions. But this time, the USOC pitched a fit and threatened the nice young couple that created and run Ravelry with lawsuits because we knitters and crocheters were, in some way, denigrating the efforts of our athletes, and hadn't coughed up millions of dollars to use their copyrighted words and images. After much hand-wringing and (I suspect) some tears, the name was changed to the Ravellenic Games, the rings left by tea and coffee mugs replaced the Olympic rings, and even the Union Jack is "not quite" the right colors, just to keep the London Olympic Committee (LOC) happy.
     I am ambivalent about this year's "competition." Some of it stems from the wrangling over the Olympics itself, from the silly and stupid rules the LOC has put into place to the controversy over the US Team's uniforms (designed by USOC sponsor Ralph Lauren) being manufactured in China. More of it seems to rise from the moderation of the group that serves as the clearinghouse for all online discussions of the Ravellenic Games. I realize that when the number of participants in an event--even an online "event" such as the Ravellenic Games--grows, there need to be more structure. However, there is no reason to be heavy-handed. There is no monetary, or even tangible prizes awarded in this event: at the most, one can download a cute little jpeg file to add as a picture on a project. But the Rule of Inverse Importance ("The less important something is in the real world, the more important it is to people that have little or no control over their real world lives.") runs wild on a project such as this, and people have actually been threatened with "disqualification" if they break one of "the rules." Disqualification? Really? Is someone going to knock on my front door and then tell me I can't knit a tea cozy or crochet an afghan during the Olympics? It's all rather silly, and as a result I have stayed in the background.
     In spite of my ambivalence, I am planning on some nice projects for the Ravellenic Games. Once again, I am a member of Team TARDIS, made up of mostly Doctor Who fans. This year, we have a good-natured competition with Team SHERlocked (made up of mostly Sherlock fans) to see which team can produce the most British-themed items during the Games. To that end, these are my projects:

• ACE Scarf. Event: Frogging Trampoline. Basically, I'm frogging this project because the yarn isn't suitable for the design.
• Ishbel Scarf. Event: Frogging Trampoline. Frogging another scarf out of some wonderful handpainted superwash merino/cashmere because I completely screwed up the lace.
• Fourth Doctor Scarf. Events: WIP Wrestling & British Cricket. Finishing is the bane of my existence. This has been nearly finished for more than a year, so I'll weave in the ends, add the fringe, and call it "done."
• Purple Tea Cozy of Sex. Events: Home Stuff Hammerthrow, Cable Steeplechase, British Cricket. As part of a challenge from Team SHERlocked, I'm making a darling cardigan tea cozy that was inspired by the purple shirt worn by Benedict Cumberpatch in the series Sherlock. I have some nice hand-dyed purple yarn just for this.
• Much Bigger on the Inside. Events: Lace Longjump, Shawl Sailing, British Cricket. The online knitting magazine Knitty ran a wonderful pattern for a TARDIS-inspired shawl out of sock yarn earlier this year. I didn't have the requisite sock yarn, but I had a couple skeins of Lion Fisherman Wool left from a sweater, so into the dyepot it went, and I have more than enough to knit a large-scale version.

The yarns are in cakes, my needles are ready, and I've laid in a supply of snacks for the next several weeks of marathon knitting and TV. I guess I'm ready to start!

Awards Season

     Every year, from early May through late October, states, counties, and agricultural districts hold their annual fairs. The County Fair has been a time-honored summer tradition in America for more than 200 years: in 1811, Elkanah Watson of Pittsfield, Massachusetts organized the Berkshire County Fair, "...featuring a procession of 'three or four thousand animals,' a band, displays of local industries, and artisans. Watson also took careful steps to attract women by offering premiums on domestic products and by holding an annual ball." (from the Iowa State University Center for Agricultural History and Rural Studies American Agricultural History Primer) Two hundred years later, millions of Americans flock to their county and state fairs to look at the livestock, examine the quilts, check out jars of jams and pickles, bet on horse races, eat foods they never would consider consuming at home (deep-fried Oreos? Really?), and see performing acts from racing piglets and demolition derbies to major rock and country-western stars. It's summer, it's hot, and it's time for the Fair.
     Fair time is "Awards Season" for those of us who compete at local, county, and state levels. I've always been mildly obsessed by the competitions in the Domestic Arts arena (Preserved Foods; Baked Goods; Clothing & Textiles). There are people who will give me ribbons, rosettes, and cash for what I enjoy doing anyway? Sign me up! I've competed in a number of Fairs in the past 25 years, and I have a lot of awards to show for my efforts. In the kitchen is a big wrought-iron hook for hanging bills--there are more than a hundred ribbons (mostly blue) hanging off that hook. Ribbons from Los Angeles, Ventura, Solano, and Yolo county fairs; ribbons from the Dixon May Fair, a local ag district fair; and ribbons from the California State Fair. Along with the ribbons are shadow boxes full of the coveted Best of Show and Sweepstakes awards, given for the best jam, or the best jelly, or winning the most Blue Ribbons in a single fair.
     I stopped entering in the Preserved Foods and Baked Goods competitions about seven years ago, primarily because I wanted to spend my summers doing something other than making fifteen kinds of jams and jellies, or baking six different kinds of bread in one day. I decided to start focusing on the Clothing and Textiles competitions, specifically those for handspun yarns, needlework (especially crocheting and knitting), and handweaving. I had entered a little bit in the 1990s, and done "OK," but now it was time to get serious. I began entering skeins, afghans, socks, scarves, shawls, and some of my handwovens, and slowly the ribbons hook in the studio began to fill up with ribbons (mostly blue).

Ribbons from the Dixon May Fair

     This year has been a turning point. It began in May, at the Dixon May Fair, when a simple scarf woven from handpainted sock yarn took a blue ribbon for Handwoven Items and Best of Division (the May Fair does not award "Best of Show") for the Handspun/Handwoven items. I did well, but Dixon is a small ag district fair.

A mess of winners from the Marin County Fair

     Then came the Marin County Fair. I dropped off my entries in early June--some of the same items I had entered at Dixon, along with some others--missed attending the Fair completely, and didn't find out how I did until Thursday. When the woman in charge of releasing exhibits took my claim checks said, "Oh, that's your stuff," I started hyperventilating. I had good reason: along with my pile of entries (there were eight), was a pile of blue ribbons, two Special Award rosettes, and two big Best of Show rosettes. I had won nearly everything! The comments, written on the back of the entry cards, were full of compliments on my color design, my spinning, and my workmanship. I was shocked. I'm still shocked. The handpainted silk sliver I had spun and plied and despaired of winning anything won Best of Show--Handdyed Skein. The wet-spun flax singles I spun one afternoon garnered the Best of Show--Single Fiber and a Special Award from Marin Golden Threads. My lace shawl knit early this year from BFL I had spun and handpainted last year won the Bluebird Yarns Special Award (and a $50 gift certificate!). I did very, very well.
     Now I'm getting ready for the next competition: the Solano County Fair. It's a smaller fair than Marin, but is my local county fair, and the fairgrounds are minutes from home. I enter the Solano County Fair because I will go to this fair to look at the livestock, examine the quilts, check out jars of jams and pickles, eat foods I never would consider consuming at home (Corndogs! Funnel cakes!), and see how my entries fared.

Spin Journal #16:
My Little Puni

     While I was at Black Sheep, Heidi (my fiber friend and frequent partner in crime) showed me a cool trick to create the raw material for unsual variegated yarns. She had attended something called "Spindle Camp" the previous week and, while there, had seen someone take bits of different colored tops, place them in thin layers, then use a puni stick--usually used in preparing cotton for spinning--to turn them into "wool punis"--basically, rolags without the hassle of dealing with handcards. Pretty cool, and a great way to sample, I thought.
     I purchased a couple of Fantasy Fiber's "Mystery Batts" so I could have something to spin (the stuff I had brought up from the stash turned out to be that nastiest of all breeds, Crappydale). Fantasy Fiber produces these weird and wonderful batts from a mixture of fibers: mostly merino, with alpaca, mohair, angora, ramie, silk (both tussah and bombyx), silk noils, rayon, llama, and firestar/flash. Different colors are layered onto one of their big drum carders, and they sell the batts dirt-cheap (less than $1.40 an ounce), so they're a great bargain if one can find something that's a blend of desirable colors. I dug in their Bargain Bins until I found two pretty similar batts and carted them away. I don't like spinning from a long strip torn from a batt, so I pulled each strip into smaller bits, then used Heidi's trick to turn them into punis to spin. I liked what I got--a rapid change in color/texture that had the capability of becoming a tweedy yarn when plied. I managed to get one bobbin filled before I came home from Black Sheep.

     Fast forward to the Tour de Fleece. I finished spinning and plying the Llanwenog on Saturday morning, and wanted to spin long-draw as a break from the "precise" spinning of short-draw, so I pulled out the rest of the Mystery Batts and got back to work on them. I weighed everything out so I would have a pretty even distribution between bobbins, then started turning the rest of the batts into punis. Lots of punis. That done, I put on my headphones, started listening to a trashy romance novel, and began spinning.

     Sunday morning dawned and I went back to work on spinning up all those punis. My long-draw spinning isn't quite as fast as it once was, primarily because I've learned better control over the fibers. In the past two years, I've gone from spinning a heavy woolen single that plies up to a bulky 2-ply to spinning a fairly fine single that plies up to a nice sport-weight 2-ply. I'm getting a lot more yarn to the ounce, but it takes longer to spin that ounce. I finished the trashy novel, downloaded another, and kept spinning. When finished, I had four bobbins--2 full, 2 nearly full--to start plying.
     I got the first bobbin full of plying finished and wound it off in time for Sunday's midnight deadline to post pictures of my new yarn. I think it's decent--a yarn that looks like a heathery blue-gray from a distance, but reveals its rainbow of colors on closer inspection. At this point, it still needs wet-finishing (which may change/lighten the color slightly), but first I need to finish plying all those singles.

My Ravatar for the Tour de Fleece.
Based on a poster by Chungkong.

Spin Journal #15:
It's Tour de Fleece Time!

     It's July (almost) and everywhere people are pulling out fiber, discussing twists per inch, and posting pictures of spindles, wheels, and yarn. That's right--it's Tour de Fleece (TdF) time again, when 5,400+ spinners on Ravelry challenge themselves to create as much yarn as they possibly can during the three weeks of the Tour de France.
     This year, I'm the Director Sportif (fancy French for "Team Captain") of Team TARDIS--spinners who also are fans of the children's TV show, Doctor Who. Being the Director doesn't involve very much work. I simply started a thread for Team TARDIS and encouraged people to sign up. Now that the TdF has started, I'll encourage them in their fibery pursuits. I also, quite accidentally, got a prize donated to the team: a 4-oz. "braid" of BFL/silk top, dyed in shades of TARDIS blue. I was going to purchase the braid as a prize from Redfish Dyeworks while I was at CNCH, but they very generously donated the braid. I returned the favor by spending the money on some gorgeous handpainted Merino/silk top, so I think everybody won.
     For my own spinning, it's quite a tidy list:

• 50g llanwenog top
• 114g handpainted Merino/silk top*
• 114g handpainted Polwarth/silk top
• 196g "Mystery Batt"
• 220g "dyed in the wool" orange Romney top
• 228g handpainted BFL top*
• 500+g black Romney top
• 518g black Jacob batts
• 529g "Falklands" (very white Corriedale) top

My "consolation" prize: Merino/silk!

The total right now is 2,469g or about 5 1/2 pounds of fiber that will be turned into yarn before the guys riding in the Tour de France cross the finish line in Paris on July 22. The TdF is an opportunity to get some fibers spun that have been lingering: only the fibers with asterisks were purposely purchased for the TdF. The rest is from my extensive (and constantly growing) stash.

     I'm off to spend quality time with my wheel(s). I'll post updates (with pictures) during the Tour.

This year's loot

I Survived Typhoon Eugene:
Black Sheep 2012

     Once again I and about 7,000 other fiber folk made the pilgrimage to the Lane County Fairgrounds in Eugene Oregon for the Black Sheep Gathering (BSG). I've written about previous trips up to Black Sheep here and here (and here...here...here...oh, and here), so I won't bore people with the history of Black Sheep, or how wonderful the classes are, or how great the shopping is. It simply is what it is, and it is Black Sheep.
     I didn't sign up to take any classes this year: after last year's camelid-spinning caravan with Paula Shull, I was ready to focus on three days of shopping, spinning, and "power lounging." I packed my camping gear (including a brand-new canopy small enough to send as checked luggage on the train), oiled up my Louet Victoria, and went to catch the Coast Starlight on Wednesday evening with several other people from Spindles & Flyers. I probably should have been concerned when we (the Spousal Unit and I) got half-way to the Amtrak station and I realized I had left my retainer at home. I can shrug off forgetting a lot of things, but my retainer isn't one of them--I spent 17 months and several thousand dollars straightening my teeth and sorting out my bite, and I'm not going to undo all that hard work by not wearing my retainer for nearly a week. We went back to the house and I got my retainer, but we lost the time we were going to spend having a nice dinner together before I had to be at the train station. Instead, dinner was a cold, not very good sandwich from Trader Joe's. I walked into the Amtrak station and suddenly remembered the other things I had forgotten to pack: the fiber I had promised as a prize for Black Sheep Bingo and, more importantly, the fiber I had promised to a friend's daughter so she could finish a felted piece for the Fiber Arts Competition at Black Sheep. Idiot!!! The young woman I had promised the fiber to was extremely gracious and kept working on her other entry; ultimately, she took a blue ribbon for her efforts.
     We settled in on the train and the ride up was uneventful--we even arrived in Eugene ten minutes early. We were met at the train station by another Guild member who had driven up from the Bay Area (along with a local cab), so we piled all our luggage, camping gear, and spinning wheels into the vehicles, and drove over to the park behind the fairgrounds where we normally camp. I thought it was a bit odd that there was only one tent and canopy set up--last year, there had been nearly a dozen set up when we arrived--but we organized our camp, set up canopies and tents, and generally got all the camp housekeeping sorted. As we worked, it grew hotter and more humid with each passing hour, until it was nearly 80 degrees with about 95% humidity. Ugh--I wasn't dressed for humid weather. We sought refuge--and dinner--in a local pub (Hot Mama's Wings), and by the time we walked back to our camp, the temperature had dropped to a more reasonable 70 degrees. The sky had clouded up, and we knew we were in for some rain, but we were prepared, we thought.
     Friday morning dawned with threatening skies but only a few sprinkles. After a leisurely breakfast, I trotted over the vendors' halls to look at blending boards, then spent some time at the KCL Woods booth picking out a beautiful little support bowl for my supported spindles and taklis and a lovely modular Tibetan spindle. I had just enough time to carry my purchases back to camp and stow them in the tent before walking over to the Wool Show building to check out the "Back Room Beauties": fleeces that were for sale, but weren't being judged. I found two nice fleeces, both Romney/Coopworth crosses from Anna Harvey's handspinning flock, paid for both, and began lugging 17 pounds of raw fleece across the parking lot and out to the camp. Half-way there, it began to sprinkle in earnest, and I had just enough time to put the fleeces in the tent and grab my rain poncho before the skies opened up. It rained the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. I coped: I had my rain poncho, so it was easy to carry my wheel in its bag over to the indoor spinning circle, and I spent the rest of the afternoon there, taking periodic breaks for shopping forays and filling a bobbin with a mysterious blend of fibers I had gotten from Fantasy Fibers. It was too wet for almost everybody to walk to dinner, so we piled into several cars and went to Cornucopia for dinner. Dinner made up for a wet afternoon: excellent food, an incredible selection of local microbrews, and a relaxed atmosphere had all of us feeling a lot more human. If you're ever in Oregon, I recommend GoodLife's Sweet as Pacific Ale and 2 Towns Pearadise Semi-Dry Cider: both are nearly worth moving to the wet of Oregon to enjoy.
     In spite of a lovely dinner, it kept raining. It rained through our "Dessert and Brews" party. It rained through the night. At times, the wind blew. It rained so much my nylon camping tent--which has never leaked--began leaking at the seams. When we woke up on Saturday morning, it was still raining. The sun tried to come out. It kept raining. I tidied up the camp a bit, did some shopping (a lovely ebony square drop spindle from Spindlewood and more fiber), got more spinning done and, between raindrops, wandered over to the Wool Sale building in time to help set up the show fleeces for the pre-sale Viewing. It was a lovely way to see the fleeces (they were gorgeous this year) and decide that I really didn't need yet another fleece. Back to the spinning circle, got more spinning done, met a bunch more people, did a bit more shopping, and it was time for dinner. We all decided we wanted to dry out and warm up, so we went back to Cornucopia for another round of their delicious dishes and great beers, then back to camp to spend the evening under a canopy, chatting, knitting, and spinning on drop spindles.
     The rain finally stopped falling, mostly, around 6:00 a.m. on Sunday, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, it was met with cheers and applause. The rain held off most of the day, giving everyone time to dry out tents, canopies, and tarps, and to pack everything for the train trip back to the Bay Area. After a last walk through the vendors' halls, our happy little band made its way back to the Eugene Amtrak station in plenty of time to board the Coast Starlight for Emeryville. Then we sat. And sat. And sat while (I found out later) the conductor called the Eugene police to remove several very drunk and belligerent passengers from the Observation car. Fortunately, all that sitting didn't disrupt our dinner reservations (made by our Car Attendant before we even got on the train), nor did it interfere with our gathering in the Observation car later to chat, knit, and spin, but the engineers were never able to quite make up the lost time and we arrived back in Emeryville nearly an hour later than our scheduled time.
     All in all, it was a good festival in spite of the rain. I did my share to support the vendors, and brought home so much stuff I had to stop at REI on Saturday evening to get another duffel bag for my purchases (note to self for 2013: bring empty duffel bag). I came home with:

• 2 fleeces
• 1 3/4 pounds assorted handpainted tops
• 3.5 oz. pygora in assorted colors
• 1 oz. firestar in assorted colors
• 2 spindles (1 with 4 shafts)
• 1 tension box for sectional warping
• 1 Clemes & Clemes blending board
• 1 T-shirt for this year's festival
• 1 hat for the Spousal Unit

Postscript: I found out when I got home yesterday that much of the Oregon coast and Willamette Valley has been the victim of a stationary low pressure system since early Friday morning. It's been raining off and on (mostly "on") since Friday morning. Tomorrow (Wednesday) is forecast to be sunny and dry--for the first time since last Thursday.

You Go Down There...

     One of my favorite westerns is a 1970s comedy starring Dustin Hoffman entitled Little Big Man. It's the life story of Jack Crabb, the only survivor of Custer's Last Stand. One of the best lines in the movie is when Custer (played by Martin Mull), questions Jack (played by Dustin Hoffman) about the possibility of the 7th Cavalry being attacked if they ride down into the valley of the Little Big Horn. Jack explains that it's an ambush, then tells Custer, "You go down there, if you've got the nerve." It's a line my friends and I have repeated to one another when we are struck by both the absurdity and futility of a course of action.
     The United States Olympic Committee (USOC), the non-profit group authorized by Congress to oversee the United States' participation in the quadrennial sports festival known as the Olympic Games, has decided that they do not like a bunch of people, overwhelmingly women, organizing to hold a good-natured "competition" for knitting, crocheting, and other fiber arts. Brett Hirsch, a wet-behind-the-ears law clerk doing a summer internship with the USOC, sent a letter to Casey Forbes, the "code monkey" and part owner of the fiber arts social media website Ravelry (the other owner is his wife, Jess) to "cease and desist" all activity, specifically the Ravelympics:

Dear Mr. Forbes, 

In March 14, 2011, my colleague, Carol Gross, corresponded with your attorney, Craig Selmach [sic], in regard to a pin listed as the “2010 Ravelympic Badge of Glory.”  At that time, she explained that the use of RAVELYMPIC infringed upon the USOC’s intellectual property rights, and you kindly removed the pin from the website.  I was hoping to close our file on this matter, but upon further review of your website, I found more infringing content. 

By way of review, the USOC is a non-profit corporation chartered by Congress to coordinate, promote and govern all international amateur athletic activities in the United States.  The USOC therefore is responsible for training, entering and underwriting U.S. Teams in the Olympic Games.  Unlike the National Olympic Committees of many other countries, the USOC does not rely on federal funding to support all of its efforts.  Therefore, in order to fulfill our responsibilities without the need for federal funding, Congress granted the USOC the exclusive right to use and control the commercial use of the word OLYMPIC a and any simulation or combination thereof in the United States, as well as the OLYMPIC SYMBOL.  See the Olympic and Amateur Sports Act, 36 U.S.C. §220501 et seq. (the “Act”).  (A copy of the relevant portion of the Act is enclosed for your convenience.)  The Act prohibits the unauthorized use of the Olympic Symbol or the mark OLYMPIC and derivations thereof for any commercial purpose or for any competition, such as the one organized through your website.  See 36 U.S.C. §220506(c).  The USOC primarily relies on legitimate sponsorship fees and licensing revenues to support U.S. Olympic athletes and finance this country’s participation in the Olympic Games.  Other companies, like Nike and Ralph Lauren, have paid substantial sums for the right to use Olympic-related marks, and through their sponsorships support the U.S. Olympic Team.  Therefore, it is important that we restrict the use of Olympic marks and protect the rights of companies who financially support Team USA. (italics mine)

In addition to the protections of the Act discussed above, the USOC also owns numerous trademark registration that include the mark OLYMPIC. These marks therefore are protected under the Lanham Act, 15 U.S.C. §1051 et seq. Thus, Ravelry.com’s unauthorized use of the mark OLYMPIC or derivations thereof, such as RAVELYMPICS, may constitute trademark infringement, unfair competition and dilution of our famous trademarks. 

The USOC would like to settle this matter on an amicable basis. However, we must request the following actions be taken. 

1.  Changing the name of the event, the “Ravelympics.”;  The athletes of Team USA have usually spent the better part of their entire lives training for the opportunity to compete at the Olympic Games and represent their country in a sport that means everything to them.  For many, the Olympics represent the pinnacle of their sporting career.  Over more than a century, the Olympic Games have brought athletes around the world together to compete in an event that has come to mean much more than just a competition between the world’s best athletes.  The Olympic Games represent ideals that go beyond sport to encompass culture and education, tolerance and respect, world peace and harmony. 

The USOC is responsible for preserving the Olympic Movement and its ideals within the United States.  Part of that responsibility is to ensure that Olympic trademarks, imagery and terminology are protected and given the appropriate respect.  We believe using the name “Ravelympics” for a competition that involves an afghan marathon, scarf hockey and sweater triathlon, among others, tends to denigrate the true nature of the Olympic Games.  In a sense, it is disrespectful to our country’s finest athletes and fails to recognize or appreciate their hard work. (again, italics mine)

It looks as if this is the third time that the Ravelympics have been organized, each coinciding with an Olympic year (2008, 2010, and 2012).  The name Ravelympics is clearly derived from the terms “Ravelry” (the name of your website) and OLYMPICS, making RAVELYMPICS a simulation of the mark OLYMPIC tending to falsely suggest a connection to the Olympic Movement.  Thus, the use of RAVELYMPICS is prohibited by the Act.  Knowing this, we are sure that you can appreciate the need for you to re-name the event, to something like the Ravelry Games. 

1.  Removal of Olympic Symbols in patterns, projects, etc.   As stated before, the USOC receives no funding from the government to support this country’s Olympic athletes.  The USOC relies upon official licensing and sponsorship fees to raise the funds necessary to fulfill its mission. Therefore, the USOC reserves use of Olympic terminology and trademarks to our official sponsors, suppliers and licensees.  The patterns and projects featuring the Olympic Symbol on Ravelry.com’s website are not licensed and therefore unauthorized.  The USOC respectfully asks that all such patterns and projects be removed from your site.
For your convenience, we have listed some of the patterns featuring Olympic trademarks.  However, this list should be viewed as illustrative rather than exhaustive.  The USOC requests that all patterns involving Olympic trademarks be removed from the website.  We further request that  you rename various patterns that may not feature Olympic trademarks in the design but improperly use Olympic in the pattern name. 

http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/olympics-rings-af...\
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/vancouver-2010-ol...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/2010-olympics-inu...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/olympic-swimmer-d...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/2008-olympic-ring...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/olympic-rings-nec...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/bode-miller-hat-2...
http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/usa-olympic-hat
http://www.ravelry.com/projects/belgianwaffleknit/usa-oly... 

Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.  We would appreciate a written reply to this letter by no later than June 19, 2012.  If you would like to discuss this matter directly, please feel free to contact me at the number above, or you may reach my colleague, Carol Gross. 

Kindest Regards, 

Brett Hirsch
Law Clerk
Office of the General Counsel
United States Olympic Committee
1 Olympic Plaza
Colorado Springs, CO 80909

     So, it seems that a bunch of women knitting and crocheting is interfering with the money-making proclivities of a bunch of big multi-national corporations like BP, Dow Chemical, VISA, Coca-Cola, and McDonalds. Really? I had no idea that my buying wool upset the oil and chemical industries so much. I'm actually rather pleased and proud if I am, but for some reason, I don't think they're even aware I exist.
     I'm particularly incensed over Mr. Hirsch's assertion that we of the fiber arts community are in some way denigrating the nature of the Olympic Games, and are disrespectful to US athletes. I would like to point out several things to the very grand Mr. Hirsch (who is younger than some of my stash):

1. The purpose of the Olympic Games is to foster better understanding between nations through the use of amateur sport. It is not a 2 1/2-week infomercial for a bunch of corporations looking to make yet another buck.
2. I've spent the best part of the past 50 years perfecting my work with needle, hook, wheel, loom, and dyepot. What gives you the right to denigrate what I do as something that is disrespectful to, say, BMX bicycle riders (a sport which, by the way, my younger brothers helped to create).

     My advice to Mr. Hirsch and the USOC: You go down there. There are millions of irate people with pointy sticks who can and will plaster this issue all over the Internet and organize a boycott of your precious sponsors. You go down there, if you have the nerve.

Geek Alert: I Have a New Toy

     I can be a tremendous geek at times. I waste far too much time at the computer, and when I hear about a new widget or gadget, I want to try it out and play with it. The new toy: a widget that announces how much (or how little) I've spun.
     For those wondering what a widget is, it's basically a little bit of HTML code that can be inserted into a web page that links to another page that feeds data back to the first page. The first widget I played with extensively was the KnitMeter, a little widget that announced how much one had knit (or later, crocheted) during a month. I started listing my knitting projects in March 2009 and, for about 14 months, was very good about updating how much I had knit on each project. Then I stopped.
     A couple weeks ago, someone on Ravelry (the source of another widget) mentioned that there was now a version of the KnitMeter for spinners. I checked it out this morning and it's pretty cool! I added the SpinMeter to my profile page on Ravelry, and this evening added it to my blog--it's over there, on the right. I figured out which yarns I had spun so far this year, added them to the SpinMeter, and that number is the number of yards of finished yarn I've produced.
     And that's where the "complication" comes in. That pretty large number is the number of finished yarns--usually 2-ply--that I've spun. The amount of yarn I've actually spun is that amount, plus about 10% (to account for shrinkage that occurs when plying and when wet-finishing), multiplied by the number of plies  (usually 2) plus the plying run itself. The formula works out like this

X = Y x .10 x 3

with Y as the finished length and X as the total number of yards. Using that formula, the 3,811 yards I've spun this year translates to 12,576.3 yards of fiber running through my fingers and onto bobbins on one of my wheels. Just the singles, joined end to end, would stretch more than 4 3/4 miles. That's a lot of spinning, especially as it has all been done in the past three months.
     So the new toy should keep me on my toes, or keep my toes on the treadles. Right now I've finished spinning 4.1 oz. of very pretty Romeldale that needs to be plied, and I filled one bobbin of the silver Bond ram/Cotwold hogget blend this morning at my guild meeting. Tomorrow or Tuesday will be a marathon plying session (I need to empty bobbins prior to leaving for the Black Sheep Gathering), and then the amount on the SpinMeter should jump again.

Merino fleece from Nebo Rock Textiles

Falling Off the Fiber Wagon

     The first two Saturdays in June are normally the two big spinners' picnics in Northern California. I went to both this year (I think I missed both last year), and came home with some unexpected purchases.
     The first of the spinners' picnics was the 12th Spinning at the Winery, organized by the Treadles to Threads guild in the Martinez/Concord/Walnut Creek area. The picnic is held at the Retzlaff Winery in Livermore, under the trees in their picnic area. Lots of shade, soft green grass under foot, an overwhelming potluck lunch, and lots of shopping are the hallmarks of this very popular picnic. This year was no exception: nearly 200 spinners came to spin, eat, talk, and shop. I was doing pretty well--I found a darling little Turkish spindle to add to my collection of drop spindles that I don't use--and then I walked by Nebo Rock Textile's booth full of beautiful merino fleeces. No, I really don't need another merino fleece: I already have 4 1/2 pounds of black merino pindraft that was a Nebo Rock fleece several years ago, and another 4 pounds of silver Nebo Rock merino that is still waiting for me to comb or card it. On the other hand, I don't have any white merino, and there was a beautiful 4 1/2-pound white merino, just waiting for me to buy it. I resisted mightily for several hours, but finally succumbed to the lure of beautiful white locks and pulled out my checkbook. Once the fleece was mine, I walked it across the picnic area to Morro Fleece Works' booth, just stopping long enough to put my contact information and the instructions "Take to pin-draft." on the back of the sales card, before handing it to Shari. This fleece is off to be professionally washed, carded, and turned into luscious pin-draft, and won't be back in my hands for 4 to 5 months, so I can focus on spinning some of what I already have.

     The second spinners' picnic was yesterday at Westside Farm, on the bank of the Russian River west of Windsor. This one, put on by Sonoma County Fiber Trails, is smaller but frequently features smaller woolgrowers than are normally found at the larger fiber festivals. Again, it was well-attended, with an abundant potluck buffet of salads and desserts, and the shopping was prime. I spent most of the day focusing on turning some dyed Romeldale top into a fine single, but took a break to check out was was available. Sue Gustafson of Four Oaks Farm was there with some nice blue-faced Leicester (BFL) fleeces at an excellent price. How could I resist? After all, a BFL is a little sheep that produces a little (2 1/2 pound) fleece, and I had just finished spinning a fleece, so I have room for another fleece to take its place. I'll process the BFL myself: I want to separate out the locks for washing and dyeing different colors, then I'll comb and color blend the locks for a beautiful yarn.

BFL Fleece from Four Oaks Farm

     I've been very good about not buying fleeces: the last time I purchased a fleece was in 2010. I do have an awful lot stashed, but I'm making progress on turning it into yarn so I think I can withstand falling off the fiber wagon once or twice.

A Busy Day

I completed many tasks today. Along with getting a lot accomplished, I realized, once again, that the first rule of getting things done is to Stay Away From The Computer. As a result, I've been offline all day, but look at what's done:

• Plied 2 bobbins of silk for Marin County Fair entry.
• Went out for breakfast.
• Went to Home Depot for the paint to finally paint the siding.
• Went to Lowe's for gardening supplies (they didn't have them).
• Went to Mid-City Nursery for gardening supplies (success!)
• Purchased the sprinklers needed to handwater the gardens.
• Purchased the peat pots I needed to start my weld seeds.
• Weeded the herb garden.
• Watered everything.
• Plied the rest of the Romney/Coopworth I spun last week.
• Wet-finished the silk 2-ply (see above).
• Weeded the big flower bed.
• Wove the second linen huck towel.
• Had dinner.
• Cut the linen huck towels off the loom and wet-finished them.
• Cleaned the studio.
• Photographed all my CNCH purchases.
• Updated my stash and project notes.
• Wrote a blog entry.

I think that's enough for today.