Tradition!

   I grew up in Southern California, which means that Easter is normally warm, sunny, and a great day for a picnic or a barbecue. As a result, Easter sorta-kinda marks the start of the summer "let's eat outdoors" season. A lot of picnic foods are traditional: ham, deviled eggs, and especially potato salad.
    My mother makes truly amazing potato salad. She learned to make potato salad right after she and my dad were married, and her recipe came from one of her neighbors, a little old German lady. It's sinful: lots of cholesterol, salt, carbohydrates, not even close to kosher, and guaranteed to pique the most jaded appetite. She taught me how to make it, and I make it for Easter, even though there are only two of us--that just means there's more for us!

Audrey's Amazing Smashed Potato Salad

• 1 dozen eggs, hard-boiled (I do these the day before)
• 1 pound bacon, diced
• 1 big onion, finely chopped
• 5 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cubed
• 1/2 cup white vinegar
• 1 1/2 cups mayonnaise
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1 teaspoon white pepper
• 2 tablespoons bacon grease

Fry the bacon until crisp. Set fried bacon bits aside on paper towels to drain, and reserve at least 2 tablespoons of the bacon grease.

Peel and chop the hard-boiled eggs.

Put the potatoes in a large pot, cover with water, then bring to a boil and boil 10 minutes over high heat. While potatoes are boiling, combine bacon bits, chopped eggs, and chopped onion in a large mixing bowl. Measure out the other ingredients and have them ready.

When potatoes are boiled, drain, then dump in the mixing bowl on top of the bacon bits, eggs, and onion. Quickly throw in the other ingredients and mix everything well while the potatoes are still hot. It should be a little sloppy. Taste and adjust the seasonings (I always add a bit more vinegar and salt).

* * * * *
This is good hot, but better at room temperature. Let it cool completely, and cover closely with plastic wrap if refrigerating. It also improves with sitting for a couple hours, as the flavors have time to blend a bit.

Casting About

   The sweater is officially under way! I finished the calculations to scale up the sweater last night, and cast on the back. I couldn't have done it without the help of The Complete Book of Progressive Knitting by Ida Riley Duncan. Originally published in the early 1940s, it's a little treasure-trove of information on how to knit garments that fit. I used it before when I knit the Skull Sweater, and it has come in handy now. Scaling it up meant adding four additional repeats to the back; to accommodate my waist, I also increased the number of stitches at the bottom edge and decreased the number of increases in Row 46.
   Right now, I'm slowly working my way through 45 rows of "1x1" (knit 1, purl 1) ribbing...on #2 needles. No pictures for now--ribbing isn't interesting. I'll post a picture when I'm deep into the cables.

Acting Snoody

Long hair: it never
goes out of style.

   I have long hair. No, I have very long hair: it's waist-length, but curly, so it looks somewhat shorter (mid-back). Most of the time, I wear it pulled back--pinned up in a chignon during the day, in a braid at night or at the gym. I keep it long because I do historical reenacting, and through most of history, women had long hair.
   I'm doing more 20th century historical reenacting, so dealing with my mane has become a bit...problematic. Early 20th century ("Edwardian" and World War I) isn't too much of a problem, as women still had long hair, and the hairstyles require lots of hair. This all changed in the 1920s though--women started cutting their hair, and suddenly short hair was all the rage. Now I look fabulous with short hair...with the right cut. Decades ago, I found a guy who could cut my hair: he had worked for the legendary Sydney Guilaroff, and he knew how to cut it into a short, 1920s-style bob that suited both my hair and my face. Sadly, he's now gone, and I've had enough bad haircuts to make me stick stubbornly to my long locks.

Triple Thread Snood (1942)

   Fortunately, the World War II reenacting lets me get away with having so much hair--if I handle it properly. If I'm dressing as a "Rosie," it's a snap--I can simply pin it up, then tie on a headscarf. On the other hand, if I want to look a little nicer, a headscarf won't cut it. That's where the snood comes in.
   Snoods have gone in and out of fashion since the Middle Ages. The last time they were popular was in the 1860s, and they made a resurgence in the early 1940s when women needed a way to keep their hair out of the way that didn't make them look like frumps. Everybody wore snoods: milliners like Lilly Dache sold them, and yarn companies published patterns for those who could crochet.
   I found a great pattern for a crocheted snood in a little book entitled, Make Do and Mend for Victory. Published by The Spool Cotton Company (maker of Coats & Clark threads and yarns) in 1942, it's chock-full of tips and instructions on how to keep one's wardrobe up-to-date and in good repair. The original pattern called for crocheting with three strands of #10 cotton; I have a bunch of vintage 10/4 mercerized cotton that I've dyed in a rainbow of colors, so I opted for 2 strands throughout, and used a couple ounces of the brightest red, to match the rick-rack on a blouse. I also skipped the ruffle at the top: I plan on wearing a hat.

My new snood, from the back.

   The pattern worked up fast--it took less than 10 hours, start to finish--and it looks pretty good. I need to do something with the front of my hair, as it's too long to put into victory rolls.
I think I'll wear an invisible hairnet under it to keep my hair from working through the mesh, but it has the right shape and weight. Hair problem solved!

Purling Harder

A 1942 WPA poster encouraging
America's women to knit.

   I am constitutionally able to sit still and do absolutely nothing. Part of it is training--I grew up at a time when parents and employers hated the sight of anyone sitting around doing nothing. Remember, "if you can lean, you can clean"? Part of it is also my nature--I get bored very quickly if I don't have something to keep my hands occupied. This is why I knit--a simple pattern doesn't require a lot of thought, and if my hands are busy with knitting needles, I'm not tapping pencils on tables, looking at my watch for the fortieth time, or (worst of all) mindlessly eating.
   As I start to go to historical events again, I need to take my knitting with me to keep me occupied (and happy). My rules for "historical" knitting:

1. It must be historically accurate.
2. It must be useful in some way.

   The first is pretty obvious--if it's not accurate, I can't have it out, so it will be accurate. Fortunately, I have a lot of historically accurate yarns, needles, and patterns for everything from 17th century socks to WWII sweaters and gloves. I've got this covered.

   The second is a bit more challenging. Right now I have a WWII sweater for myself in the works, but I like to do that kind of knitting on modern (circular) needles. Same with socks--I'm a confirmed "toes up, one-at-a-time, 2 circular needles" sock knitter. I've knit socks on double-pointed needles (DPNs), and I've knit socks from the top down, so the knowledge and skills are there. I simply don't like to knit socks that way. I also don't like plain socks, especially in navy, khaki, or olive green. Socks are definitely out for reenacting knitting.

   That leaves sweaters, of which everyone seems to have plenty, gloves, and mufflers. Sweaters and gloves are a bit silly in the land of eternal sunny weather--after all, what good are heavy sweaters when it rarely gets below 60 degrees? Mufflers (aka scarves), on the other hand, have some possibilities. The National World War II Museum in New Orleans began a scarf drive back in 2007, with the goal of making scarves for WWII veterans. The drive was so successful that the program has continued, and has now distributed more than 30,000 scarves to veterans through the VA centers scattered throughout the United States.

   Mufflers are flat, so they can be knitted on "straights" (single-ended needles), pretty mindless, use up a lot of the worsted-weight yarn I have in the stash, and will end up keeping some veteran's neck warm.

   I found a nice muffler pattern distributed by the American Red Cross in 1940 that is incredibly simple: 2 inches of 2x2 ribbing, then 68 inches of stockinette before finishing with 2 more inches of 2x2 ribbing. I'm going to alter the pattern slightly to fit today's scarf requirements--after all, there isn't that much demand for a scarf that is 11 inches wide and 72 inches long--and see how many mufflers I can knit "for the boys" (and girls) before shipping them off to the museum at the end of the year.

Snap-On Yarns!?!

The Snap-On Tool Guy, bringing tools to happy mechanics.

   When I was growing up, I worked in the office of my dad's race car manufacturing shop in Southern California. It was working there that I discovered that buying and then taking care of good tools was important (you can't work without tools), and that time very definitely was money, so don't waste it chasing all over town for tools and supplies. Some salesmen and delivery guys were so regular you could set your watch by them: Frank (the UPS guy) stopped by every morning with deliveries, then came by in the afternoon for pick-ups; the Ziegler Steel truck came by once a week to deliver tubing; and the big, white, Snap-On tool van pulled into the driveway every other week. While my dad didn't often buy tools from Snap-On when I worked for him (hand tools were always Craftsman and came from Sears), I was fascinated by the idea that an entire automotive shop's tools could be neatly and attractively stored inside a large step-van.

The Yarnover Truck, bringing yarns to happy knitters.

   Good ideas don't ever go completely away. Last year at Stitches West, I came across the modern fiberista's version of the Snap-On guy: the Yarnover Truck. According to their website, the idea came about when two women (Maridee and Barbra) talked about opening a brick-and-mortar yarn shop in Los Angeles, but realized that rents, schedules, and everything else associated with a real, live, store were too much. After some market research, they settled on recycling an old idea: open a mobile yarn shop in a large step-van. In mid-2012, the Yarnover Truck hit the road, much to the delight of yarn-starved knitters throughout Southern California. They have a regular schedule of stops (see the calendar on the website for specific dates, times, and locations), so a visit to a regularly-scheduled "stitch night," can also provide an opportunity to pick up needles, small tools, and some pretty tasty yarns from Anzula, Zen Garden, and Indigo Dragonfly. While the Yarnover Truck can't carry quite as much stock as the Snap-On vans carried--skeins of yarn take up more room than screwdrivers--it has enough to be tempting.
   At Stitches this year, I picked up one of their flyers: the Yarnover Truck is making a road-trip to Central and Northern California. From April 25 to May 17, the truck is making a dozen stops along the Central Coast and in the Bay Area. Admittedly, it's not quite as convenient as having the yarn truck roll right up to the studio, but perhaps some enterprising young weaver might decide to outfit a step van with tools and yarns and start making a circuit of Northern California.

Which Needles With What Yarn?

My tiny pattern swatch.

   I am making a serious attempt at reproducing (in my size) the sweater I blogged about last August. The sweater, from a pattern published in Women's Weekly (an Australian women's magazine) on July 13, 1940, was made available by the Victoria and Albert Museum on their website a while back, and I really like the design--a long-sleeved, V-necked cardigan in a lightweight yarn with lots of cables.
   I did some work on redacting the pattern last August, but didn't get very far because I didn't have the yarn on hand for swatching. I gave the yarn some serious thought: I wanted something soft, relatively sturdy, and not too expensive, as I need a lot of yarn (about 22 ounces). DROPS Baby Merino wasn't available in colors I liked, and Cascade Heritage 150 just didn't "feel right." I finally settled on an old friend--KnitPicks Stroll sock yarn--in the "Indigo" colorway--a soft, dusky blue that looks a bit like worn denim, and a lot like the old sweaters from the 1940s that I remember from childhood.
   Once I got the yarn, swatching was in order. I started with the needles recommended by Cyberseams.com's needle conversion chart, and the gauge was off--either I now knit loose (not likely after a lifetime of knitting tight), or the chart is wrong.
   Time to break out my prized Walker bell gauge. I have a beautiful, brass, bell gauge from just after World War I that is wonderful for redacting old British knitting and crochet patterns. According to the Bell gauge, a "number 8 pin" is the same size as a modern US#5/3.75mm needle, while a "number 12 pin" is the same size as a modern US#1/2.25mm needle.

A close-up of the swatch. The cables are pretty cool.

   I created a second swatch with my yarn. In stockinette, I came up with 27 stitches across 4 inches--a bit larger than the "8 stitches per inch" recommended in the instructions. But wait--could the gauge in the instructions be in the pattern? I started working the pattern--a 6-stitch cable surrounded by ribbing--and by the second repeat, it was pretty obvious that, in pattern, the #5 needle was right on gauge.
   So, now I have my yarn and my gauge, and I'm going to order a couple Addi Rocket circular needles in #1 and #5 for my knitting. Why Addi Rockets? I like the super-slick nickel-plated finish and the lace points. I got a set last year for sock-knitting, and love them, so knitting this sweater, with all its cables, will be a lot more fun on really nice needles.
   OTN: I'm on the last square of the stash-buster afghan. Once it's knitted up, I have a lot of crocheting to put all the squares together, but the first quarter of the afghan is assembled. 

A Not-So-Tiny Project

Some of my personal pattern stash.

   For some reason, the other day I decided I needed to reorganize my stash of sewing patterns. This might have come about because I was cleaning up the sewing room after the last session, or because I discovered a few weeks ago that I've bought the same pattern twice. No matter--they will be organized.
   I will admit this freely: I have a large pattern stash. I like patterns. Yes, I know how to create my own pattern from a drape, but it's a lot easier, working by myself, to use a pattern and alter it. I frequently check the major pattern companies' websites, and when the local fabric store has a good sale (usually a couple times a month), I run down there with a list and buy the patterns I've been stalking. I also have never willingly thrown a pattern away. As a result, I have several hundred patterns, from simple skirt and top patterns I bought when in high school, to very decent historical/vintage patterns issued by Simplicity, McCalls, Butterick, Vogue, Truly Victorian, Past Patterns, and so on.
   The first step: how am I going to organize them? My patterns have been organized by pattern company for the past 20 years, and I'm finding that isn't working, as it's not how my mind works. I've sewn nothing but historical costumes for so long that I tend to think in terms of approximate date: big shoulders in the '40s, trapeze back jackets and pencil skirts in the '50s. The patterns would be more useful if organized by decade.
   The second step is creating some sort of list. I set up an Excel spreadsheet for nothing more than the most basic information: pattern company; pattern number; a brief description (including publication date); size; and any comments, such as a specific line of patterns. I created a separate "page" for each pattern company, and started putting in the information.
   Pulling out each box of patterns and going through them has been a walk down memory lane. I have the pattern my mother used to make her dress for my wedding in 1978. In another box was the pattern for a friend's wedding dress that I made in 1980. Remember the sensation caused by Yves Saint Laurent's "Russian" collection in 1976? I have a Vogue pattern for the vests featured in that collection. Skirts, blouses, dresses, knickers--pick a fashion trend from the 1970s through 1990s, and I probably have a pattern for it. And the fabric stores! Once upon a time, fabric stores stamped the pattern envelope with the name of the store and "Not Returnable." My pattern collection is a "Who's Who" of Southern California stores, and I can date when I purchased the patterns from the names stamped on them: TG&Y and Home Silk Shops from the 1970s; Michael Levine's, Cloth World, and Princess Fabrics in the 1980s; New York Fabrics, JoAnn's, and Hancock Fabrics (where I still shop) in the 1990s.
   The third step is to file them in boxes. This is easier said than done. For years, Hancock Fabrics sold nice corrugated cardboard boxes for storing patterns. They're just the right size for the shelves in the laundry room, and I have a dozen. Unfortunately, Hancock's stopped selling them about a year ago, and the only alternative are Dritz pattern storage boxes, which are four times as expensive. IKEA to the rescue! It turns out that regular (6x8½ inch) pattern envelopes fit perfectly in the larger Kassett boxes made for storing DVDs, and they're nearly the same price as the corrugated pattern boxes.

Organized, inventoried, and safely put away.

   If I was a really disciplined sempstress (I'm not), I'd take the time to catalog all my patterns in my pattern library on My Sewing Circle. There is just one really big problem: their pattern database is completely reliant on contributions from their members. This means that it's not terribly large (less than 5,000 patterns total), and there's not as much organization as there should be. I've added about 60 patterns to my library; of those, about 30 have been new contributions, which means I have to input all the details, track down a good photo of the pattern envelope artwork, and then add it to the database before adding it to my pattern library. It takes about 5 minutes for each pattern, so adding 100+ patterns takes hours and hours. Since my patterns are better organized, I'll simply add patterns as I create projects around them.

The Best-Laid Plans...

  ...often go awry, or so said Robert Burns. I was hoping to report that the loom was warped, and that my swing-back topper was nearly finished, but instead I spent most of the last week lounging on the chaise, blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, watching old movies, and knitting. I had a ferocious, streaming, head cold.
   The upside (if there is one) of this enforced idleness: I got to see a lot of really great movies. Turner Classic Movies (aka "TCM") is in the middle of their "31 Days of Oscar," so everything they are running has received at least one Academy Award nomination, and most films have multiple awards. I tend toward the older flicks, and I've had a thorough wallow: The Broadway Melody (1929), 42nd Street (1933), Suzy (1936), Wings (1927), Tale of Two Cities (1935), and many more.
   Another upside: I finished knitting a lace scarf. As it is intended as a gift later this month, it's nice to know I finished it in plenty of time. I'll post a picture, but not yet--I don't want the intended recipient to see it early.
   At any rate, the cold is now behind me, and it's time to get back to work. To keep you amused, a publicity shot of Hollywood's greatest costume designer, with "her boys."

Costume designer Edith Head and her 8 Academy Awards.

Ravelry for Sewing

   I am spoiled. I've been a member of Ravelry since 2008, and it's become an important tool in my life as a fiber and textile artist: my very large stash of fibers and yarns are inventoried, I have a library full of patterns (and more in Ravelry's extensive library of 500,000+ patterns), and I keep track of spinning, weaving, knitting, and crochet projects in my project pages. As I've said many times, it's as if Casey and Jess Forbes, the creators of Ravelry, crawled around inside my head and created an online solution to all my fiber arts organization problems.
   Unfortunately, fiber arts are only a portion of my creative life. I sew, everything from stuff for the house to historical and fantasy costumes. I have a huge fabric stash (my yarn stash only recently surpassed my fabric stash). I have several hundred patterns (including multiple copies of some that I forgot I purchased). I need some way to keep track of everything I get for a sewing project, what patterns I have, what fabrics and notions I have, and what changes I make to a pattern in the process of sewing something. I need a Ravelry for my sewing!
   I know I'm not the only sempstress with this dilemma, so I started searching online for solutions. My criteria:

• be as simple and intuitive to use as Ravelry
• be able to store inventories of fabrics, notions, and patterns
• be able to create individual project pages that, preferably, link to the fabrics, notions, and patterns 

   This doesn't seem like very much, but there are precious few sites for the sewing community, in spite of the popularity of quilting, and the resurgence of home sewing. These are the ones I looked at (with my opinion of each):

• Kollabura. Too diverse: more of a Do-It-Yourself, everything-to-everybody site rather than being specific to sempsters/sempstresses. 
• Threadbias. Too basic. Does not have a basic pattern library feature.
• PatternReview. Primarily a review and chat site. Charges $30/year for access to pattern "stash" feature, but paid membership also gets a 10% discount at Jo-Ann's and other sewing-related businesses.
• Seamed Up. Shut down in 2012, due to lack of interest.
• Sew Mama Sew. Lacks ability to store member information.
• My Sewing Circle. Closest to Ravelry in look and feel (not surprising, as one of the creators is a Raveler). Fairly simple to use. Has ability to store inventories of fabrics, notions, and patterns. Has individual project pages, with ability to link stashed fabrics, patterns, and notions. 

   I've been playing around a bit with My Sewing Circle (I'm dtjacobson on it), and it's...OK. Not great, just OK. My Sewing Circle has been around since 2010, but has only 16,000 members. By comparison, Ravelry had over 2 million members at its fifth anniversary. Member numbers are important: it takes a certain number of members to maintain an active online community, and 16,000 is barely enough.

   There are also a couple of potentially serious problems with the site itself. The single biggest one is the inability to search a forum thread (online community-speak for an online discussion) for specific information. This means that one either has to read every single post to a topic (and there can be hundreds of posts) to find that bit of information, or simply ask someone to repost it or directions to the original bit of information.

   The other potentially serious problem is the way fabrics are organized. They aren't. There isn't any way to add a thumbnail image of the fabric in an individual stash without creating a new "fabric" entry for the entire site. As a result, instead of a single fabric entry for a fabric with 18 patterns and colorways, there are 18 fabric entries (one for each design and/or colorway). 

   My Sewing Circle has recently changed hands. I sent a message to the new owners regarding continuing support for the site and, I must admit, I'm a bit hesitant to recommend it. The new owners have not been members very long (less than 4 months), and don't seem to be using the site very much. In fact, nobody seems to be using the site very much, other than to catalog sewing projects. If the site is given the support and "push" it needs to begin growing, it may, eventually, turn into every fabric lover's dream: a Ravelry for the sewing and costuming community.

   

Shut Up and Sew!

   I'm currently multi-tasking: eating my breakfast (OK, lunch--I missed breakfast), writing a blog post, and waiting for the iron to get hot again so I can go back to my current project. I should be finished with this skirt, but Thursday went very sideways--the local (Vallejo) Hancock Fabrics was temporarily closed (plumbing problems--there was 2 inches of water on the floor), I found what I wanted to get at the Napa Hancock's, but discovered that the coupons I clutched in my fist weren't good until yesterday.
   After spending the morning moving furniture in and out of the house, I went back to Hancock's yesterday, and made the trip worth my while: 8 patterns, 3 pieces of fabric, 2 zippers, and some trim for a throw/slipcover for the new chaise. As soon as I got home, the denim went into the washing machine for pre-washing, and I started trimming the pattern pieces to make a skirt.
   This is one of McCall's "Quick and Easy" patterns. Easy? Definitely, especially if one knows how to sew. Quick? Maybe, if one is exactly the size the pattern is graded for. I'm not, so I had to spend some time making alterations to the yoke/waistband, then to the pieces themselves. It's also "quick" if doing what I call "slash and burn" sewing--throw it together as fast as possible. This is clothing, not costuming, so I want something that is going to be well-made and hard-wearing, so I take my time: tailor's tacks where necessary, lots of pressing, and a willingness to do handsewing as it is needed, rather than taking shortcuts. The result? I worked about 6 hours on the skirt last night, and have a couple hours of sewing (attaching the yoke facing, putting in the zipper, and hand hemming) to have a skirt that's ready to wear tomorrow.

The front of my new denim skirt,
with the yoke facing pin-basted in place. 

 

I Need Clothes!

Knickers, boots,vintage mink, and
the arrogance of youth, circa 1977.

   Once upon a time, I was a clotheshorse. Like many other things in my life, I came by it naturally--my fashion-model thin mother has a taste for fine clothes and accessories, and the skills of a dressmaker--and I grew up with a closet full of the latest fashions. In college, I read a book called Cheap Chic (by Caterine Millinaire and Carol Troy), and my own personal style was born: a mix of vintage and classics, seasoned with a lot of hubris.
   Somewhere in the early 1990s, I misplaced my fashion sense and my clotheshorse tendencies. Some of it might have been the move to northern California (the Bay Area really is less appearance-conscious than Los Angeles) and some of it might have been the jobs I worked at (the last ten years of teaching I wore jeans or khakis to work every single day). No matter: the result was a closet full of thin V-necked sweaters appropriate for the classroom, and drawers full of T-shirts and jeans. The few items I still have from my days of working in offices are wool suits--nice, but Boring.
   I've been out of the classroom for two years, launched on my current career as An Artist, and I've discovered that I have Nothing To Wear. Part of being an artist is being seen in public: there is a monthly local ArtWalk, weekly get-togethers at the local coffee roaster, and a host of other events throughout the year that require a bit more than jeans and T-shirts. I tried to fill in the gaps in my wardrobe with some basic pieces, only to discover that: a) there is little that fits my personal style; and (more importantly) b) most of what is available as ready-to-wear is poorly made crap. Example: I bought a long black rayon skirt to wear in the evenings. I wore it only 3 or 4 times before I found a hole in the fabric (not at a seam), simply there because the fabric wasn't very good quality. That skirt cost me nearly $10/wearing--not a good investment.
   Fortunately, there's a solution: I sew. In fact, I sew pretty darned well. I can go back to making my own clothes. I stopped sewing because teaching took up all my time, but I now have a bit more time, and I can indulge myself with high-quality handmade clothing. I was already leaning in this direction--I recently picked up a length of beautiful Italian wool tweed to make a Chanel jacket, and that started me down the rabbit hole of couture sewing--so it didn't take much to decide I'll simply start making nearly all my own clothes again.
   First up on the list is a new skirt to wear when I want something casual, but not jeans. Hancock Fabrics has McCall's patterns on sale this week, and I think this skirt pattern, executed in lightweight denim, will fill the bill nicely. Now, if I could just find that hubris...

Back to Work

New Year's Resolutions Goals for 2015:

• Exercise more/eat less (Doesn't everybody put this on their list?)
• Weave one warp for myself.
• Weave at least one warp with 8 or more shafts.
• Become production-proficient at both Rosepath and Summer & Winter (types of weave structures)
• Get warps on and off the looms in a more efficient manner.
• Survive the next round of work on the house.
• Master couture sewing and make myself some new clothes I love.
• Blog more often.

Currently reading: Couture Sewing Techniques by Claire Shaeffer.

"We will use no stash before its time."

     A long time ago, a mediocre California winery ran an entire national advertising campaign (including memorable TV commercials featuring Orson Welles) with the slogan, "We will sell no wine before its time." What holds true for wine also holds true for stash--it needs time to "age" before it gets turned into some glorious creation.
     This time, the stash in question is a large quantity of 10/4 mercerized cotton yarn. It came into my stash when I bought my 4-shaft Gilmore in February, 1995; since then, it's been carefully stored with other cellulosic fibers, awaiting the time that it could be put to good use. There's quite a bit to this stash--all together, it's over five pounds, or about 13,000 yards of yarn. Some of it is dyed, but about 60% (about 3 1/2 pounds) is undyed, some with ancient labels for Royal Society Eversheen and Sunray Knitting & Crochet Cotton. This is going to make great yarn for weaving tapes and straps, but before that can happen, I need to dye.
     As I mentioned above, some of the yarns are dyed. I don't know who the original stash-holder was, but she had a fondness for warm, autumnal colors--nearly all the dyed yarns range from dark cocoa brown, through orange, to gold. There's a couple ounces of mauve, and a bit less of royal blue, but none of the cool greens, blues, and purples I like to use in weaving. There's also no red. Fortunately, I can fix all that.
     The first step is to put these skeins into some sort of usable order. I've "caked" all the colors so they're easier to work from, and turned the most tangled skeins into neat 2-yard hanks for dyeing. I've got the colors I need on hand: clear yellow; bright Chinese red; purple; dark and light greens; more royal blue; and turquoise. All I need to do is soak the yarns, then put them into their respective dye baths. Each hank is 500 yards, so once dyed, I'll have plenty for weaving a bunch of tapes and bands.

* * *

     It took about two days to wind the hanks, then dye them all. I ended up winding about 4,500 yards into nine hanks--I kept finding yet another color that I thought might be pretty. I only have three "smallish" (2 to 3 gallon) dyepots, so I had to dye the colors in relays. Babysitting dyepots is much like any other babysitting--you don't need to be there every single second--so I sat in the kitchen next to my pots and knitted, stopping to stir the pots at the end of each round.
     Once dyed (and rinsed, and rinsed again, and washed in Synthrapol, and rinsed several times more), I hung the dyed yarns out to dry on the upstairs porch. I finally decided on turquoise, yellow, light green, red, dark blue, purple, dark green, periwinkle blue, and lilac (see the photo to the right). This gives me a range of cool colors to work with and, along with all the warm colors already dyed, I'm set for tape and band weaving.

I Need A Sweater

"A New Design in Cable Stitch,"
from 1940

     We went down to San Jose for the "Spirit of '45" event at History San Jose last weekend. It was loads of fun--lots of World War II reenactors, veterans, and just regular people dressed up in WWII-era finery. A bunch of friends are getting interested in WWII-era reenacting, especially the British homefront, as members of the Women's Land Army. Personally, I'm too much of an American to be a convincing Brit (I have no talent for accents); on the other hand, having a few things in my wardrobe to allow me to dress up for these events could be fun.
     This idea has led me to the need for a new sweater. Actually, it's the Victoria and Albert Museum's fault--they have made available on their website a number of historic knitting patterns, and there's a darling little cabled cardigan pattern than ran in Women's Weekly in July, 1940. This could be a stunner--knit out of the right yarn, I not only could wear it for WWII "homefront" reenacting but, paired with flannel or tweed slacks, I'd have a nice outfit for vintage "tweed" rides in the winter and spring months. The only downside to this pattern--it's completely unredacted. This means some serious measuring, swatching, and calculating to turn the pattern from a nice little Size 9 sweater into something that will fit my more generous proportions.
     The pattern gives me a few clues to work from:

• Needle Size: "Size 8 and Size 12 steel pins"
• Gauge: "8 stitches to the inch with Size 8 pins"

There's a big difference between old UK, US, and modern needle sizes, primarily because the UK system was based on wire gauges, while Heaven only knows what the US system was based on. This has always been a problem, and is one of the reasons that I bought an antique Walker "Bell" gauge (a tool used to check the size of British knitting needles and crochet hooks) many years ago--it's a lot easier to work from a Weldon's pattern if the actual size of the needle or hook is known. Fortunately, cyberseams.com has solved a lot of these problems with what I think is one of the better needle conversion charts. This chart eliminates most of the need for a Bell gauge--one simply looks up the needle size, and the corresponding needle size is referenced. In my case, an old UK #8 needle is the equivalent to a modern US #6 or 4mm needle, while the UK #12 needle is the equivalent to a modern US#2 or 2.75mm. Judging from the needle sizes, this sweater is knit with a really firm ribbing at the waist and cuffs, with main parts of the sweater a bit loosely knit.
     But wait--there's more information! The gauge is 8 stitches to the inch with 4mm needles. Normally, 4mm needles are recommended for DK/light worsted knitting yarns, with 21-24 stitches in a 4-inch piece of stockinette; however, I don't think it would be possible to knit 1x1 ribbing out of DK on 2.75mm needles. I know 2.75mm needles really well, as they are the needles I normally use for knitting socks. Dropping down to a sport-weight yarn would increase the number of stitches per inch on the 4mm needles; additionally, I know from experience that it's possible to knit fine ribbing with sport-weight yarn. So, I need a sport-weight yarn that is readily available, reasonably priced, not too scratchy, and in a color I like.
     Ravelry to the rescue! Ravelry has a large database of yarns, so it's pretty easy to put in some parameters and start searching for likely candidates. Most of my usual "go to" yarns are not eligible: Malabrigo Arroyo and Blue Moon STR Medium don't come in solid colors; Nature Spun Sport is scratchy; Cascade 220 Sport is too heavy; Gems Sport is too expensive. A couple possibilities: DROPS Baby Merino, and Cascade Heritage 150. Both are Merino (not scratchy), readily available, not outrageously expensive, and come in a wide variety of possible colors. I'll think about these as I do some preliminary swatching.

CURRENTLY OTN: The second of a pair of blue and green striped stockings, knit out of Louet Gems sock yarn that was hand-dyed with indigo and mullein. After this, I'm done with socks and stockings for a while, as I've also knit 2 additional pairs of socks since the beginning of June.

Leicester Longwool

Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool?

     I'm baaaaaaaack! The studio has been busy for the past couple of months, so I've neglected to write any blog posts. However, I'm back--in more ways than one--with a house full of fleece and fiber.
     Last weekend was the 40th Black Sheep Gathering. I haven't missed a Gathering since 2007, and the annual trip, which once marked the start of my summer vacation, is still one of my favorite "vacations" to visit my fiber family, learn new things, and shop for equipment and fibers. Some things have changed over the years. For example, I rarely take classes any more, primarily because there aren't that many spinning-related classes that cover things I'm interested in, but haven't learned yet. I also don't take the train: driving has become cheaper, especially if I can find someone to ride along and share the cost of the gasoline. On the other hand, a lot of it is still the same: the location; many of the vendors; the fabulous wool show and sale; and the rain.
     This year, my travel companion was one of my fellow guild members, Robin. She lives in San Francisco, so she (and her camping gear) came up to Vallejo via the ferry on Tuesday night, and we got a fairly early (8:30 a.m.) start on Wednesday morning. The drive from the Bay Area to Eugene is long (500 miles) and mostly boring, so I was glad of the company. We stopped for lunch in Redding, and made it into Eugene about 7:00 p.m. Something nice about Eugene: as a busy college town, it has a lot of pretty nice, not very expensive motels. We checked in, walked down to Falling Sky Brewery for dinner, and generally unwound after the long drive.
     Thursday morning found us at the Eugene Textile Center. I was curious about an Oxaback loom they were selling (unfortunately, it wasn't on display for me to take a look), which was our original reason for trotting over there before setting up camp at the fairgrounds, but Robin had a good time looking at all the different types of looms, and I found a super-deal on 8-inch long pirns for my end-feed shuttle.

A "new style" Corriedale
fleece from Ramifications.

      After our visit, we went to the fairgrounds and started setting up our camp. The camp seemed a little empty this year: a lot of the "regulars" didn't make it to the Gathering this year, and people were slow in arriving to set up their own camps. Finally, there were enough other people setting up that we felt comfortable leaving the camp for a bit and did the market and ice run (Note to BSG campers: Albertsons is stocking 10-pound blocks of ice now.) so that we had food, water, and a way to keep everything cool. We walked down to Hot Mama's Wings for dinner, and I introduced Robin to the delights of deep-fried pickle chips before a companionable evening of talk and spinning.
     We turned in fairly late, and I was a little irritated when I was awakened by our nearest neighbors talking excitedly and moving around at 3:00 a.m. "What the...? It's the middle of the night!" I thought, then I heard It: the tap, tap, tapety-tap of rain, starting to fall on my tent, my canopy, and my favorite spinning chair. I scrambled out of the tent, moved my chair inside to stay dry, then went back to bed, to listen to the rain falling on the rain fly and congratulate myself on buying a new tent. I woke up much later to a drizzly morning, but the sun came out by lunchtime and it was a lovely day. In the eight times I've been to Black Sheep, it has rained eight times--I've decided that it will rain at some point during the weekend, and I should simply "deal with it."

A "classic" Corriedale fleece
from Hub Corriedales.

     I didn't take any classes this year, so Friday morning I hot-footed it over to the "Wool Barn" to check out the Non-Show Fleece Sale. I was looking for something specific this year--Corriedale--and within minutes found two beauties: a nice little 5-pound fleece from Ramifications, and a gorgeous 7.33-pound fleece from Hub Corriedales. The guild needs a Corriedale for a project later this year, and either of these are lovely fleeces for that purpose. Personally, I like the Hub Corrie better, but I told my fellow guildmembers who entrusted me to buy a fleece that they could have first choice, so I will end up with the "other one." No matter which one I end up with, it's going out to be processed into pin-draft. I've found it's ultimately cheaper, time-wise, for me to send fleeces out to be processed, and I'm better about getting spinning up the processed fiber than I am about processing the fiber.
     I did all this fleece shopping--along with picking up a couple of this year's "Mystery Batts" from Fantasy Fibers--because I was scheduled to help out with the Wool Sale on Saturday afternoon. I've helped a little with the Wool Sale in the past--mostly set-up--but this year was the first year I was truly working. It turned out to be a lot of fun! Jeri and Eliza, the two sale coordinators, had everything very well organized, and in spite of the sale starting late, we sold about 300 fleeces in just a couple hours. I went back on Sunday morning to help with the administrative paperwork, and ended up coming away with a third fleece: a nice little Leicester Longwool that is destined to be washed and dyed in the lock, then combed to make a fine, smooth, worsted yarn.
     One of the advantages of driving is that I can bring a lot of fleeces back with me. This year, it was four: three of my own, and a nice Romney fleece for a friend. The downside of driving is that I lose a couple days in the studio (Wednesday and Monday). However, as this is my June "vacation," I try to look at the drive as part of the experience. All in all, it was a pretty good one this year, and I'm already starting to plan for 2015.

Time to Play!

All packed up and ready to go!

     One of the highlights of CNCH 2014 was the chance to take a marvelous 12-hour class with Robyn Spady. Robyn is a great teacher and her class, Exploring Weave Structures On a Single Warp, was an opportunity to do something I haven't taken the time to do in many years: play. I related getting ready for CNCH--registering for the class, warping the loom, etc.--in my last post, so I'll simply pick up the story from there.
     I was a little surprised when my loom, my big box of tools, bobbins, shuttles, and extra stuff, and I made our way down to the appointed "classroom." Fortunately, the conference committee set aside half of the upstairs ballroom for the class, and we needed nearly every bit of the space--there were 31 students, all with some type of multi-shaft loom! I've never seen so many different brands and types of workshop looms in one place at one time--table looms, floor looms, four shafts, eight shafts, name a brand or style, and it was probably represented in that class. Everyone had one of four different threadings, and we each wove at our own looms the entire class, so it was fun to occasionally walk around and see what other people were weaving.

Twill patterns (white)
and waffle weave (red)

     Robyn, equipped with a microphone and an LCD projector, took us through the different weaves in our handout materials: a well-written, well-illustrated 100+ page book. We started off with easy patterns based on huck lace, moved through waffle weave, and on to twills, before class ended Friday afternoon. I appreciated the simple patterns, as they're nearly second nature, and I had time to re-acquaint myself with weaving with a boat shuttle.
     Saturday morning found nearly everyone at their looms by 8:00 a.m., an hour before class was scheduled to start. Once Robyn arrived, we began with overshot designs ("Periwinkle"), learned about weaving on opposites, and spent a bit of time on weaving Monk's Belt before breaking for lunch. It was during this session that I discovered why so many workshop looms have trays attached to the breast beam--I had to keep juggling two boat shuttles, either on my lap or on the cloth, as I was weaving. Add one more thing to the shopping list for the Gilmore. After lunch, Robyn launched us into the more complex structures, with more complex tie-ups. Weaving Swivel took the rest of the afternoon--it's a beautiful weave, appropriate for fancy upholstery fabric (the back has long floats), but it required repegging all eight treadles. I spent 25 minutes lying on the floor under the loom, moving the pegs around, for five minutes of weaving.

We have achieved corduroy!

     Sunday morning came too quickly, and I jumped on as many designs as I could manage before our time ended at noon. I was desperate to try my hand at weaving corduroy, so I skipped a couple designs, set the tie-up for corduroy, grabbed a stick shuttle (for the pile weft), and dove in. Corduroy is a weft pile fabric (velvet is a warp pile fabric), with the height of the pile determined by the length of the weft floats. The floats don't pull out easily because in between each pair of pile weft shots, there's a tabby shot to "lock" them in. Robyn had a carton of hanks of embroidery floss in a rainbow of colors, so I selected two hanks of green that were close, but not identical , then wound them together on the stick shuttle. It was a little precarious--I was juggling both a large stick shuttle and a boat shuttle--but I wove 1.5 inches of the corduroy cloth, then took a quilter's chenille cutter and carefully sliced through the weft floats. A tiny bit of fluffing up, and voilá--I had created corduroy.
     After the corduroy triumph, I had time for one last sample--doublefaced cloth--before it was time to pack everything up and attend a guild meeting. I managed to finish 23 of the 28 samples for the class during the time alloted, and probably could have done them all had I been working with one of the four-shaft threadings. However, it was a great opportunity to play around with an eight-shaft point twill threading, and it reminded me of the importance of play time to keep the creative juices flowing.

The entire sampler.

A Busman's Holiday

     The Conference of Northern California Handweavers (CNCH) was established in 1953 to further the art and appreciation of the craft of handweaving. As the umbrella organization for the fiber arts guilds in Northern California (from California's Central Coast to the Oregon state line), CNCH is tasked with holding a conference every year for fiber artists. Over the years, this mission has evolved into a biennial "conference" (held in even-numbered years) and an "alternate" retreat (held in odd-numbered years) that rotates among the five different geographic areas. 2014 is the year Area 5 (North Bay to Oregon) guilds hosted the full conference, which was held last weekend.
     I was looking forward to CNCH2014, as I had helped behind the scenes at CNCH2012 and hadn't taken any classes. This time, I was taking a class, and when Exploring Weave Structures on A Single Warp, taught by master weaver Robyn Spady, was announced, I was On It. When registration opened on November 1, I had my class registration completed and my hotel reservations made within the first 10 minutes. About six weeks ago, Robyn sent out instructions on how to warp our looms, and I spent last weekend winding a warp and dressing my workshop loom in preparation for the class. On Thursday afternoon, I--along with my suitcase, my loom, and a tote bin full of supplies--were dropped off at the Oakland Convention Center Marriott. I checked into the hotel a day early, to give myself time on Friday morning to do a bit of shopping before my class started at 1:00 p.m.
     Conference, for me, is a bit of a "busman's holiday." For those unfamiliar with the term, a busman's holiday is when you do something on the weekend that is very similar to what you do for a living. As I'm a fiber artist and weaver, spending the weekend at a conference about fiber and in a class, weaving, can seem pretty boring. For me, however, it's a chance to see people that I rarely see in person, make business contacts with vendors, and (most important) play.
     The Marketplace, though small when compared to a gargantuan expo such as Stitches West, was so laser-focused on weaving and spinning that it took me the entire morning to tour it, and I still didn't see everything. I had an opportunity to talk to the maker of my workshop loom about some modifications and upgrades; a chance to buy another end feed shuttle (because one EFS is never enough); picked up a bunch of nice hemp yarn from an Idaho vendor who I normally only visit online; and got to test-drive AVL's latest loom. I also got to visit with people: people I knew from previous conferences; fellow guild members; and online friends and acquaintances I finally met in real life. The time flew by, as did the entire conference: between classes, a banquet, a fashion show, and a couple meetings, I was on the run until I got home on Sunday evening.
     In spending some time interacting with the wider fiber arts community in real life, I also noticed some interesting developments. The most interesting (and a little scary) is that, for better or worse, I have a little bit of fame/notoriety in the fiber arts community. I was stopped several times by people I didn't know who said,"I'm so-and-so. You answered my questions on Ravelry. Thanks, the information was a big help." It's a little bit disconcerting, but also nice to know that I might have helped someone. This also means that people Know Me, and I have to be on my best behavior: I can't be the cranky, irritable old trout that I sometimes can be (especially if I haven't had any coffee), as it can put people off. I also need to "schedule" a lot more time to interact with people, so I don't have to cut them off because I need to be someplace else.
     All in all, it was a lovely weekend. I came home physically tired, but creatively energized, and ready to tackle my work once again.

(NOTE: I'll relate my experiences in the weaving class in my next post. Stay tuned...)

The Book List

I am a bookworm. I've always liked the worlds reading creates and, when I was a kid, my favorite afternoons were spent with my nose stuck in a book. My tastes in reading were--and are--pretty eclectic. You name it, I read it: history, biographies, fairy tales, mysteries, science fiction, trashy romances...you get the idea. I was fortunate enough to fall in love with and marry another bookworm, so we live in a house full of books. If it's true that "books are friends," then we have a great many friends--upwards of 5,000 by my rough estimate.

Presently, space and time are conspiring to keep me from acquiring more "friends": we really don't have space for any more "dead tree" (print) books, and working as an artist means I don't have the time to curl up with a book the way I could when I was a child. However, technology has come to the rescue! The result has changed my book buying and reading habits.

I've discovered that I can get the Los Angeles Public Library (LAPL), one of the truly great library systems, to store reading materials for me. I've always loved the LAPL, spent many happy hours in the downtown Central Library doing research, and was heartbroken when the library suffered a series of horrendous fires in 1986. I discovered last year that: 1) the LAPL has a really large collection of e-media (including e-books, e-magazines, and audiobooks) that can be downloaded onto any computer or electronic device (e.g., iPhone, iPod, tablet); and 2) you don't have to live in Los Angeles County to have a LAPL library card. I got my library card while in Los Angeles one weekend, and it's been very well used--it's now normal for me to have a couple e-books on my iPad for "bedtime reading," and three or four audiobooks on my iPod.

Yes, audiobooks. They've changed my reading habits. Audiobooks have been around for years, but I wasn't usually a fan--I like being able to pick up and put down a book, to go back and reread passages if I think I missed something, and to see pictures and diagrams. Then, I discovered I could listen to podcasts and audiobooks while working at tasks that didn't require close attention, and I started chewing through audiobooks the way I once chewed through regular books.

I started a list of books I've "read" at the beginning of the year. It's an interesting task that lets me see how much I'm reading, and where my curiosity is taking me. I'll update the list periodically throughout the year.

Goodman, Beverly. Shaker Textile Arts.
Goodwin, Doris Kearns. The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism.
McCullogh, David. The Johnstown Flood.
Ambrose, Stephen. Nothing Like It in the World: The Men Who Built the Transcontinental Railroad, 1863-1869. 
Goodwin, Doris Kearns. No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II.
Abbott, Karen. American Rose: A Nation Laid Bare: The Life and Times of Gypsy Rose Lee. 
Brand, H.W. A traitor to His Class:The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. 
Krakauer, Jon. Three Cups of Deceit.
Brinkley, Alan. The Publisher: Henry Luce and His American Century. 
Ball, Edward. The Inventor and the Tycoon: A Gilded Murder and the Birth of Moving Pictures. 
Gaiman, Neil. Neverwhere.
Brinkley, Douglas. Cronkite.
Sherwin, Martin & Kai Bird. American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer. 
Feynman, Richard. The Meaning of It All: Thoughts of a Citizen-Scientist.
Krauss, Lawrence M. A Universe from Nothing: Why There is Something Rather than Nothing.
Feynman, Richard. The Pleasure of Finding Things Out: The Best Short Works of Richard P. Feynman.

 

The Producer

Twenty yards of finished wraps,
ready to go to the customer.

Last week, I mentioned the 25 yards of baby wraps on the loom. They shipped yesterday.

My bread and butter right now is coming from weaving baby wraps. What are baby wraps, you're wondering: basically, four to six (or more) yards of 28-inch wide handwoven fabric, hemmed at each end. They're basically longer, updated versions of the rebozo, that indespensible shawl worn for centuries by Latin American women. There are a couple of companies that mass-produce these things (MobyWrap is the best-known), but there's a real desire for handwoven wraps, primarily because they have finished selvedges (something lacking on 90% of the fabrics made today). Custom designs are even more popular, as customers can buy exactly what they want...if they have enough money. They are, for all intents and purposes, the wedding dress of motherhood.

The design:
Erin's Rainbows

It turns out, I'm pretty good at weaving baby wraps. I have the necessary equipment, namely, a really big loom with a really big sectional warp beam, and an AVL warping wheel, so winding a 20-30 yard warp onto the loom is not difficult. I don't mind the tedious work of weaving 20-25 yards of plainweave--it's boring, but that's what audiobooks are for. I produce beautiful selvedges--important when this cloth can't have turned selvedges. I weave pretty fast. And, I have the design sense and patience to work with a customer to take her ideas and turn them into a working design.

Erin's Rainbows: On the loom

I see a lot of weavers dive into weaving baby wraps, and nearly as many jump back out of that particular pool, once they discover the amount of time and level of tedium involved in production weaving. It is, quite frankly, a lot of work for not a lot of money. I keep my prices toward the mid-range of what production weavers charge, as I like the idea that someone who might never buy art is getting a piece of artwork (I do consider creating textiles to be "art") for a few hundred dollars. At that rate, I'm making enough to cover my costs, along with a small (just above minimum wage) wage for myself. Instead, I get "paid" in the satisfaction of working as an artist (it beats teaching any day), and seeing my artwork make people happy.

Erin's Rainbows:
The finished cloth.

Now, I have to get back to work, as I'm starting to wind another warp, for another batch of baby wraps.

A Question of Balance

The current warp: 25 yards of
rainbow baby wraps

I can't believe it's Thursday already--it seems like yesterday was Monday. I'm in the middle of a long warp that I want to get off the loom by Saturday, and it seems the clock and the calendar are racing along whenever I turn my back.

I should be further along on this warp, but last weekend was spent away from the loom, and the studio, on the "other" part of being "an artist"--seeing, being seen and promoting myself. For me, finding the balance point between working and being "out there" is the most difficult aspect of my life right now. It's tough: I need to be in the studio to create, but when I'm in the studio, I'm a recluse. When I go out, people remember that I'm here, and they want to see my stuff, but I'm not producing anything for them to see. That balance point is somewhere, but it seems elusive.

Katie & Chris Vardijan of The Hub

Friday night was the second Downtown Vallejo Art Walk and it was, by all reckoning, a success. The weather was perfect--a balmy evening with no breeze--and a lot of artists' studios and galleries were open to the throngs of people strolling up and down both Georgia and Marin streets. We walked the entire area, stopping to chat with friends and acquaintances, pausing to take photographs of the event and attendees, and seeing what artists had on display. I was buttonholed by two different gallery owners about possible future shows. The Art Walk is turning into a monthly opportunity to connect with the larger community of artists in Vallejo. It could also turn into a monthly "pop-up" sales venue, but I need to get far enough ahead to have something to sell.

Shannon O'Hare of
Obtainium Works
and  Angie

After a guild meeting in Napa on Saturday morning and a bit of shopping (I do need to occasionally buy food to eat), it was back to Vallejo and then off to Obtainium Works for their St. Patrick's Day Anniversary Party Fundraiser. Obtainium can be best described as an "artists' collective" that particularly like to build weird and wonderful vehicles ("art cars") and contraptions that are frequently seen at Maker Faires and Burning Man. I am only peripherally involved--mostly, I send Stephen off to work on projects on Sundays while I get a few hours of work in the studio accomplished--but I really like the Obtainium artists, and I have a lot of fun at their events. At this event, I helped out at "the gate," selling dinner and drink tickets. I like doing this, as it gives me a chance to talk to everybody without having to go up and introduce myself. I'm also very, very good at it: my goal is to separate people from their money as nicely as possible. I chatted, joked, smiled, and charmed people into buying dinner and drink tickets, all the while having a marvelous time myself. The food was good, the entertainment was spot-on, and the entire event was a rousing success.

"But, you could have worked on Sunday," you're thinking. Perhaps, but it was time to drive back up to Napa and pick up wines from Saintsbury, along with trying what bottles were open (an excuse to spend some time sitting in the sun, enjoying the garden at the winery). After collecting our wines, we stopped by the Oxbow Public Market to try the Mare Island Brewing Company's inaugural product, Saginaw Golden Ale (a bit more hoppy than I usually drink, but very refreshing), then got lunch at Gott's. By the time we finished, it was late afternoon, we were both tired and crammed full of food, and wanted nothing more than to become couch potatoes for the evening.

So, that was the weekend. Lots of fun, some good contacts made, friends reassured that I was still alive, but no work in the studio accomplished. Now it's back to the "real" work of being an artist: throwing a shuttle.

(Photos by SNJacobson)