Good-bye G*d, I'm Going to Black Sheep, Part I

Like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the school year ends and spinners and other fiber folk gather at the Lane County Fairgrounds in Eugene to celebrate things sheepy and fibery. I don't want to get into a deep anthropo-socio-mumbo-jumbo analysis of the fact that the fiber arts seem to attract many more women than men, nor that the Black Sheep Gathering occurs in close proximity to the summer solstice; I just want to spend several days camping with friends, looking at sheep and goats, and spending money on something I really like: fiber.

I went to Black Sheep last year (see the posts dates 6/28 - 7/1), and at that time wrote a pretty thorough description of what the festival was like. This year was, on the surface, very similar: everybody that was camping stayed in Jefferson Park behind the fairgrounds; there were a slew of terrific classes (all of which I mightily resisted); the shopping was incredible, in spite of several long-time vendors not being in attendance; the Shetland lambs were once again voted "most likely to be smuggled home"; and the wool show and sale was irresistible.

Our little group on the train was larger by one this year, and Amtrak made a real effort to be punctual, pulling out of the Martinez train station right on time. This trip up I discovered that, in spite of my very best intentions to keep doing everything I could do when I was 20, Mother Time is starting to catch up with me physically--I can't curl up and sleep in a coach seat. I'd doze for a while, then my shoulder would start to bother me, I'd try to move around and get comfortable again, doze a while longer, and the whole process would start again. I finally gave up around sunrise, grabbed my knitting, and went up to the Lounge car to watch the sun rise over the Sacramento River and Mount Shasta. Beautiful! Eventually, I was joined by everybody else, and we had a grand time, taking over one end of the Lounge car. We found that some of the seats swivel, and Laura pulled out her Ashford Joy and worked on spinning up the fleece she got at last year's Black Sheep, while the rest of us spun, knitted, or crocheted.

Big surprise when we--and our mountain of luggage--piled off the train in Eugene. It was hot! Wait, this isn't what was forecast!?! We discovered that Eugene was in the grip of an unusually hot, unusually humid stretch of weather, and none of us had really prepared for hot weather. I brought plenty of jeans and long-sleeved Ts, but no capris or short-sleeved Ts. No matter--we can cope. We found a couple of taxis to get us--and our mountain of luggage--to the fairgrounds, got camp set up, then several of us braved the bus system and made our way to the market to buy provisions for the weekend. OK, so there was a slight detour to Ben & Jerry's for ice cream--we really needed it. We also opted for a taxi back to the fairgrounds, as we had exchanged our mountain of luggage for a hill of shopping bags full of good things to eat.

Friday dawned hot and humid. Very humid. I did the best I could, and made a beeline for the Black Sheep information and T-shirt booth, and picked up a couple short-sleeved Ts to get me through the weekend. After changing into one, I started fulfilling my main purpose in going to Black Sheep: shopping. A new WooLee Winder and some additional bobbins solved the last little problems with my Sonata, a nice chunk of targhee roving gave me something to spin, and I managed to "pick up" some other nice little doo-dads and bits of fiber: two sets of stainless steel DPNs; a protective cap for my favorite Spindlewood spindle; 2 oz. of passionately purple pygora; a bump of royal blue merino; and, of course, sock yarn from Blue Moon Fiber Arts. By lunch time, I had made all my "necessary" purchases, and settled into the Spinners Circle with my Sonata to enjoy the the comraderie, keep an eye on the Sheep to Shawl competition, and get some of that targhee spun up.

While all this was going on, a wide-spread but low-key game of Bingo was going on. Organized by two women on the Black Sheep Gathering group on Ravelry, Black Sheep Bingo was a variation of that old "icebreaker" game of bingo, where you have to find people that fit the descriptions in your bingo card squares. This time, the Bingo squares had the names and Ravelry IDs of the "squares," and "players" were to go around and find those people, who were wearing badges that identified them as squares. A lot of us were both squares and players, and it seemed that the most common greeting that weekend was, "I think you're on my Bingo card." The Spinners Circle became Bingo Central, and hanging out there guaranteed that you met a lot of people. While I didn't find everybody on my card, and didn't win anything in the raffle (not surprising--I don't have that kind of luck), the "game" itself was a tremendous load of fun. It also did something that frequently doesn't happen at fiber festivals: people got out and met new people with a common interest face-to-face. Too often, we travel to multi-day fiber festivals in others in our circle of friends, or with our guilds, and we socialize exclusively with those people. Black Sheep Bingo made people meet one another, and many new friendships were formed.

Tomorrow: a Ravelry meet-up and the Wool Sale!

Veni, Vidi, Knitti

Today is the fourth World Wide Knit In Public Day, so I did what hundreds of thousands of women (and some men) did today--I took myself and my knitting outside and knitted in public with a bunch of other women (and some men).

KIP Day began in 2005, when Danielle Landes, a fiber artist/jeweler/knitter decided that too many people knitted in private. People could go for years not knowing that their next door neighbor knitted socks, or that the woman up the street spun silk. To stop this artistic isolation, she came up with the idea that knitters (and other fiber folk) would get together in previously-announced locations on the second Saturday in June, talk, knit, and share their art and passion. In 2005, there were 20 sites. In 2006, KIP Day had grown to 70 sites, and more people were getting interested in knitting, crochet, and other fiber arts. In 2007, there were more than 200 sites, and local newspapers were starting to notice all these knitters.

In 2008, thanks to word of mouth (both live and electronic), there are 782 "official" KIP Day sites (ones registered with WWKIPD and listed on their website), and probably hundreds of other ad hoc sites where knitters simply are pulling their needles out and proudly knitting in public. While most of the sites are in the United States and Western Europe, there are people knitting on every continent.

Since there weren't any very local sites, I went down to Knit-One- One in Berkeley, to hang out and start a new pair of socks. A cute little fiber studio owned by Sile Convery near the Ashby BART stop, K11 is fronted by a wide sidewalk with street trees, and is next door to Sweet Adeline, a simply scrumptious bakery. Knitting was scheduled to begin at 9:30 a.m., and by 10:30, 30-40 women (and a few men) were seated in a large circle on the sidewalk, sipping coffee, nibbling goodies from the bakery, talking, laughing, and knitting. Everyone admired each other's yarns and handiwork, ranging from tiny socks for a granddaughter, to a sweater, while several people used giant needles and bulky yarn to garter-stitch a "tag" for one of the trees: a "sweater" for one of it's branches.

I was in a bit of a bind for knitting-- nothing I had was truly portable. I wasn't sure of the space available, so I didn't want to bring my wheel. I couldn't take the Shawl of Many Samples because I didn't have any yarn. I have 3 skeins of yarn for the SMS, but they aren't washed, so they can't be knitted into the shawl yet. I thought I might have enough spun, dyed, and skeined Falklands for another pair of socks, and when I dug into the stash, I found this was the case. I wound the skeins (about 550 yards total) into balls, packed them up with my KnitPicks case, and as I sat there in the sun, did something I dislike intensely and almost never do: I swatched. I usually don't swatch because I can judge pretty accurately what needles are needed for nearly any type of yarn (a skill that develops with experience), but this time I wanted to try a different pattern (basketweave), and I like the color of this Falklands, so I want the socks to go very right. I knitted the swatch, and to reward myself for being so good, treated myself to a vegan dried-fruit oatmeal cookie from Sweet Adeline. Now that's a breakfast! I now have a lovely little basketweave sample, I was correct on the size needle I need to use with this yarn (size #4), so now I'll cast on the actual sock and get to work.

I Can Quit Any Time I Want To*

There's an interesting thread on one of the Ravelry forums/groups right now entitled, "Are you a fiber junkie too?" Mostly it's a humorous discussion of the size of our respective fiber stashes, the hordes of equipment we've accumulated, and how we can't seem to pass up a deal on fiber, be it fleece, roving, or yarn.

However, this thread also has me thinking about the nature of addiction, and how we throw that word around so casually. True addiction is not funny--I've watched people battle uncontrollable dependencies on tobacco, alcohol, drugs, and gambling, and I've seen the havoc wreaked upon family and friends by their actions.

OK, this is getting waaaaaay too serious. Let's do a little etymology. No, not bugs, that's entymology; etymology is the study of words and their origins. According to Michael Quinion on his Website World Wide Words, the word was first used in written literature by William Shakespeare in 1598 to describe a strong inclination; in Henry V, the Archbishop of Canterbury marvels at Henry's knowledge of theology, saying that "His addiction was to courses vain." (Henry V, Act I, Scene 1) The word continued to be used in that fashion until the early part of the 20th century, when it was co-opted to describe someone with a dependency on a drug. By the 1990s, use of the word had expanded. Michael Larkin and Richard Wood of Nottingham University presented a paper to the Psychology Postgraduate Affairs Group in February, 1998 on this phenomenon, noting that the word has become “a scapegoat for the nineties — a moral label for what society feels isn’t acceptable. Lots of people are being called addicts when they’re just engaging in unusual behaviour." Under this definition, somebody that enjoys walking briskly every morning, or sitting down to relax by spinning some yarn on their wheel, could be considered just as much an addict as the junkie attempting to score his or her next fix.

I think many people (usually) outside the sphere of the "addict" use the term is because they do not understand the difference between dependency on and passion for something. Dependency requires that one surrender to the object, whether it is a drug or something that triggers an adrenalin rush. It is the object or the action that is in control, and the demands of the object or action are given first priority by the person.

On the other hand, passion causes the object to surrender to the person. It is the person that is in control, and while they may enjoy their pursuit, they are able to put it aside when necessary to focus on other tasks at hand. A fiber addict may enjoy buying and processing raw fleece, then spinning it into yarn to knit, crochet, or weave with, but they will not sacrifice the basic needs of themselves and their family simply to buy more fiber. The person is in control (even if we whine that we have no willpower, before bragging about our latest finds.)

We need a new word. I vote "avocation" (an activity taken up in addition to one's regular work or profession; a hobby). When I hear the word, I smilingly think of the quintessential Londoner pottering about his backyard garden after work, changing the plants in the carpet bed and moving the garden gnomes. For many of us, our fondness for the fiber arts is an avocation--we have good jobs that support ourselves, our families, and our growing stashes of fiber. We mess about with fiber as a way to relax, to express ourselves artistically, and to make the world a little bit nicer through our efforts. Our families may think it steals a little time away from them, but we come to them richer for our time spent focused on the beauty found in our collections of fibers.

*but why would I want to?

Spin Journal #8: Shawl of Many Samples

I've been playing with the new Sonata to get used to it quickly, as I'm taking it to Black Sheep Gathering in three weeks. Since the fastest way to get used to a wheel is to spin on it, I tackled the rest of the samples from last year's color blending workshop. As I spun, I started to think about what I could do with all the samples and leftovers I have accumulated over 14 years of spinning. There's a lot, because I usually just "tag 'em and bag 'em," then throw them in a drawer in the studio. The drawer is full to overflowing with singles, 2-ply, 3-ply, and other weird bits of yarn. I need to do something with them, but what?

As I spun, the idea finally came to me: using the Danish WrapTie Shawl pattern in the current issue of Spin-Off, knit a "shawl of many samples" out of all the samples. I quit spinning, and spent about an hour sorting through the many samples, using the ball winder and swift to roll everything plied into balls for knitting, and the singles into balls for adding onto the yarns on the wheel. Once I moved the singles over to the bobbins (I ended up with 2 full ones), I Navajo-plied the singles into a nice 3-ply, DK-weight yarn. A bit of "aggressive finishing" in hot soapy water with a plunger, then a rinse and hanging to dry, and my myriad samples are starting to knit into an interesting shawl.

So far, so good. Maybe a little heavy on the brown Romney? Lincoln? I spun some time in the last century. As it is, I don't have quite enough "sample" fiber to knit the entire shawl, so I've had to do a bit of judicious fiber buying to round out the amount of yarn required for this project. I found what I was looking for at the annual "Spinning @ the Winery" in Livermore: a luscious dark green CVM/tussah/silk noil roving that will complement the brown. Then I found some rainbow-hued Targhee roving, so that came home too. All this new fiber gives me an additional 8 ounces of variegated fiber, which should end up in nearly enough (along with all the samples) to complete this shawl.

...and Kromski makes 4

2008 is going down in history as "The Year of the Wheels." For our 30th anniversary (see my May 14 entry), we both got "wheels." Stephen got a new truck. I got a new spinning wheel.

I've wanted a good, modern, folding wheel for traveling to workshops, meetings, demos, and festivals since taking my Wendy wheel to Black Sheep last year, and discovering that one of the gorillas of Amtrak had stacked luggage on top of my poor little wheel. Fortunately, the wheel survived nicely, thank you very much, but I was a bit put out and not a little concerned. After all, I can't get replacement parts for that wheel. Traveling with the Reeves is even worse--it's a real collector's item, and I'd be crushed if something happened to it. It's also heavy! I started thinking about a Kromski Sonata after I had a chance to spin on a friend's Kromski, and I like that it came with a good padded travel bag. So I ordered the Kromski, Stephen paid for it, and it was mine.

I finally had a chance to sit down and spin on it, and I'm satisfied. It took a bit of getting used to at first--I normally spin on single-treadle, double-band drive wheels, and the Sonata is a double-drive, Scotch-tensioned wheel. It required a bit of adjustment in my spinning style, but once I made the adjustments, the yarn I was able to produce was pretty decent. I didn't want to waste anything really good while playing around with it, and most of the fiber is packed away, but I found a bump of carded Border Leicester combing waste, and started with that. The fiber is full of neps so the resulting yarn isn't great, but I could spin a fairly fine thread pretty quickly, and I spun a half-bobbin in no time.

It turned out that a half-bobbin was all I could stand of that nasty, neppy mess. I still have a bunch of the "samples" from the color blending workshop I took last year, almost all of buttery-soft merino, so I switched to that and yay! the wheel spins great.

Home Improvement

How many trips to Home Depot does it take before a project qualifies as "home improvement"? The current project has taken two trips to Home Depot (and there will be at least one more, as I didn't get some cedar planking) and three trips to IKEA (shelving), so I guess it qualifies.

After nearly a year, we are getting close to the end of the work done on the attic. It began last summer with replacing the attic stairs. The old stairs were in place when we bought the house in 1994; they were cheap and rickety, and too small for the space (the upstairs hall). Someone had extended the legs to make up the difference, but one side rail was cracked when we bought the house, and the stairs continued to deteriorate. I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did! The new stairs are the really nice rolling ladder stairs--they're pretty common on the East Coast, but rare here in California, and it took several months to find a contractor willing to install the stairs. We finally found one, and after several months, and two sets of rolling stairs (the first set was too short), we had our stairs.

After the stairs were complete, the "stair guys" decided they had done enough, and claimed they were too busy to do the next phase of the project: removing the blown-in cellulose insulation and installing a floor in the attic. It took 6 months to find another contractor willing to do the job for a decent price, but the work was started in late April, with immediate consequences: one of the workers put his foot through the lath-and-plaster ceiling in the guest room, leaving a 2x4-foot hole. A few days later, another worker did the same thing in my studio/office. Sigh. The contractor patched the lath where it was broken, and I cleaned up the broken plaster and lots of dust.

In spite of the floor not being completely installed, I simply couldn't stand the mess throughout the house (everything in the attic is currently in the upstairs hall, the library, and the dining room). We made a couple trips to IKEA to purchase their Gorm shelving units and assorted parts, and began building and installing shelves in the "finished" portions of the attic. Stephen also took the time to install some lights for us and we moved a few boxes back up and put them on the shelves. What a difference! I feel like I have some control over the project, and know it is only a matter of time until everything is back up in the attic where it belongs, neatly boxed and labeled.

Ravelry: Fiber's FaceBook

I've succumbed to the lure of the social network. After 15+ years of e-mail, forums, ListServs, UseNet groups, and YahooGroups, I've finally waded into the "world" of social networking with joining Ravelry.

I hadn't even heard of Ravelry until about 2 weeks ago, when I was reading old e-newsletters from the guild, and there was a mention of it. I was curious, so I checked it out, and got on the waiting list to be a member. It's a little odd--I'm used to lists and groups that either allow immediate access, or access with 24 hours, and here I was being asked to wait until they had space for me. Surely there aren't that many fiber fans in the world!?! It turns out, there are. Ravelry currently has 126,000+ registered users, and an additional 1,000 are added each day. I got my "invitation" on Wednesday, and joined.

OK, I like this Website. The coolest part of the entire Website is the Notebook you can set up of your projects, your stash, your tools, and just about anything else you might want to organize. Even better: you can link to most of the blog sites and Flickr, and easily add photos and links to blog entries. This just may be one of the best organizational tools around for fiber folk. It's pretty intuitive (if you can put your pictures on Flickr, you can do most of the stuff on the site without the tutorial), and it seems pretty easy to update things on the fly. I put a couple projects in the notebook, linked them to photos on Flickr, linked them to entries in this blog, and it all seems pretty tidy.

The groups are OK; I think I need to look at them some before making a final decision, as I'm already used to my YahooGroups, and know a lot of people on them. However, the Group feature would be terrific as an online list for members of a spinning guild.

So check it out! http://www.ravelry.com/

Thinking About 30

May 14 has arrived once again, so I stop and consider what I have done in the past 30 years on this date. On this date in history was the Battle of Lewes (1264), the Coronation of Charles VIII (1483), the founding of Jamestown (1607), and the creation of Israel (1948). Thirty years ago today, I helped my younger brother deliver a load of newspapers for a friend that was on vacation.

And I married.

Spending most of one's adult life sharing living space with the same person is a bit daunting when viewed from the front end, but in looking back, I'm a little surprised at how much we've done, and how easy most of it was to do. We've lived in 5 different places: 3 in Southern California, 2 in Northern California. We've traveled to Mexico 3 times, to Europe twice. One or the other of us has worked, gone back to school, changed careers, and/or retired. We've stuck together through broken bones, major surgeries, and the loss of parents and friends. We've even managed to survive construction, remodeling, redecorating, and relandscaping. It's been, to steal a line from the Grateful Dead, "a long, strange trip," but by and large, it's been fun. OK, the broken leg while we were moving in 1994 wasn't fun, but most of it was fun. We've reached that stage in our relationship where divorce really is something that happens to "other people." We used to joke that we could never divorce because who would get custody of the books? Now, splitting us up would be the equivalent of splitting up that comfortable old pair of shoes: you might find another, newer shoe to replace the one you took away, but it would never be the same pair again.

So, was there a huge celebration for this momentous occasion? No. I actually spent it doing much the same thing I did 31 years ago today: dealing with school, and getting paperwork sorted out so I can continue my education. Got everything squared away (two weeks of telephone calls and letters, to solve an issue that should have taken--and took--only five minutes once I went down there), shared a sandwich on campus, then went over to the library to do some research on the Los Angeles student walkouts of March 1968. Spent part of the day working on papers that are due by the end of the week. Tried to deal with the oppressive heat and humidity (July has suddenly arrived in mid-May). Pretty much a normal day.

Number 30 has come and almost gone. Now it's on to Number 31 and beyond.

Vanishing Act

No, I didn't fall into a weird wormhole through the time-space continuum, I wasn't abducted by aliens, and I haven't spent the past 8 1/2 months participating in secret Government-run experiments on hapless goats to create non-shrinkable, hard-wearing cashmere. Where I've been for most of the past year can be summed up in one word.

School.

My students (60 freshmen and 100 juniors) arrived in my classroom on August 21, and it's been a non-stop, madhouse scramble to write lesson plans, run off copies of worksheets, grade papers, and do all those things a full-time high school teacher does. It's fun, but challenging, and very time-consuming.

At the end of September, graduate school started. I decided last April to pursue an Administrative Credential and a Master of Sciences in Educational Leadership for that most basic (and base, in my mind) reasons: I want to make a lot more money than I make as a classroom teacher. I wanted to get the entire program finished in two years, which meant becoming a full-time graduate student in addition to being a full-time teacher. So now, when I'm not grading papers, I'm writing them.

Fortunately, this has been a good year for travel, so I've been able to escape everything periodically by running away to far-off places. Late November found me in the Big Apple, strolling through the Met and marveling at the balloons for the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the lovely windows at Lord & Taylors. New Year's Eve was celebrated "Old School" (perhaps, "Old Country") with a marvelous candle-lit 18th century dinner at the King's Arms Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg. Easter afternoon I was sitting in London's Heathrow Airport, awaiting my flight to Malaga for a week in sunny Spain, followed by a second week back in London. So I've been busy.

My wheel and needles have also been busy. I've nearly finished spinning some truly wild blue and fuschia mohair, and have cranked out several different projects, including one of those circular sweaters in a deep heathery green, and a pair of long stockings out of handspun merino. Currently on the needles is the second sock from some dark purple Honey Lane alpaca that I bought at Stitches West last year. It knits up beautifully, and the socks will be pretty and warm when finished.

Now that school is starting to slow down (25 school days and counting), I can finally look up from my books, and post my rants and raves again. Pax, in advance.

Back to the Salt Mines

Sadly, summer has come to an end. Officially, summer doesn't end until the Autumnal Equinox, on September 23rd this year, but summer ends for teachers when they go back to work after a too-short summer break. This year's break was impossibly short: the last day of school was June 16th, and we were required to be back at work this morning, only nine weeks after leaving books, grades, and students behind. The students have only a slightly longer break; they'll be in class tomorrow morning at 7:50 a.m., and the treadmill of the school year begins once again.

Summer has wrapped up in a rush, with moving to a different classroom across the campus from where I've been for the past 10 years, getting used to working with a new group of teachers, and getting ready for the new challenges that come with teaching a new grade and subject (9th grade Geography) with brand-new books and materials. No matter what, everything that needed to be done by this afternoon was finished--the kids arrive tomorrow morning, whether I'm ready for them or not. Fortunately, school starts slowly, and the first week is spent on "resocializing" the students after two months of them running wild. During that time, I can make decisions on how to start tackling the material, getting books passed out and assigned, and training my "little puppies" to start acting like the adults they so desperately want to be treated as.

Meanwhile, I wrapped up the fiber tasks that had to be completed before work again moves to the center stage. The black Romney is washed! I followed Paula Schull's instructions for washing fleece, and the entire fleece came out incredibly clean and soft, with 97% of the lock structure intact. I spent part of yesterday combing about a pound of clean fleece, and there's very little waste; I'm going to end up with about 80% of the fleece turned into buttery-soft sliver, perfect for spinning. The question now: do I comb it all before starting to spin, or do I spin as I comb? Time and inclination will tell.

Meanwhile, I'm continuing to work on the pinwheel sweater. It is growing, slowly. I'm now past the point where the sleeves go, and am now working to make it large enough to close in the front. It's incredibly boring knitting (good for meetings), so I keep telling myself "Done is beautiful," so I'll finish it before I start on another project.

Done Is Beautiful

How many projects do you have partially finished? How many sweaters are knitted, but not assembled? How many socks are awaiting heels? How many knitting needles, crochet hooks, or bobbins have you bought because the others are currently "dedicated" to another project? These things, usually known as UnFinished Objects (or UFOs) seem to be the bane of every fiber artist, needleworker, or reenactor. My own list is frighteningly long, and covers a multitude of different crafts: spinning, weaving, dyeing, knitting, crocheting, sewing. This tendency to create UFOs slops over into other areas: the house, the gardens.

In some cases, there's a good reason for a project stalling. For example, we can't do any more work on the house until the attic renovation is finished, and we're currently waiting on the "stair guys" to call us with a start date on the new attic stairs installation. We need to finish landscaping the last part of the backyard, but I need 3 Cecile Brunner climbers and the nursery has to special-order them.

In other cases, however, it's simply my own broad interests, and boredom with doing just one thing at a time, that causes a closet full of UFOs. Sometimes, I just don't feel like sewing, or crocheting, or knitting. Sometimes, I need something for a specific reenacting event, so I have to drop everything to work on that project. Sometimes, what I thought was just going to take a day or two takes a week or two...or month or two...or a year or two. So I end up with yet another UFO.

Fortunately, I'm not alone in this affliction--it seems to affect all of us at one time or another, and among my group of friends, it's considered nearly normal. However, we're all trying to change our ways, and we've adopted a new mantra: Done Is Beautiful. Get one project finished before you start the next project. Revel in the sense of accomplishment when you can finally look at something, and realize that the rest of the yarn can be thrown into the scrap wool bin, or the tools can finally be cleared off the front porch.

Obviously, it's impossible to have just one knitting project going on at a time, especially if knitting is something that gets dragged to meetings. Lace knitting just doesn't work when you have to keep track of what some moron is proposing during a meeting, so "brainless" knitting projects are essential for taking to meetings, watching movies, and hanging out. As a break from brainless knitting, I need one regular knitting project. As a break from knitting, I need one crochet project. As a break from yarn, I need a costuming project. As a break from costuming...wait a minute...I'm back to the stack of UFOs. Done is beautiful. Done is beautiful. Done is beautiful. Let's try this again.

• 1 pair of socks from handspun (regular knitting project)
• 1 pinwheel sweater (brainless knitting project)
• 1 afghan (crochet project)
• 1 late 15th/early 16th century Flemish dress (costuming project)
• 1 lb. of Falklands combed top (spinning project)
• Install drip system to plants in containers (gardening project)

This is what I'll admit to right now. The true list is much, much longer, but this is enough to keep me busy, especially as my wonderful, blissful, child-free summer has come to an abrupt end with the news that I need to move, lock, stock, and cases of paper, to a new classroom across the campus from my old classroom. I hate moving, as it generates its own list of things that have to be done, all with a deadline of August 21st. Most of the big things (packing, moving, and unpacking all my books, papers, supplies, and files; setting up the room) are finished, but there are the details:

• Organizing my desk
• Hanging my historical posters, credentials, and awards
• Hanging the screen for the overhead projector
• Changing the door knobs on the closet so I can chain and lock them
• Pulling hundreds of staples out of the wooden walls--did I mention this room has no bulletin boards?

I will get all this done: the classroom stuff in time for the start of school, and the rest eventually. I will get this done because...

Done is Beautiful.

Hot Fun in the Summertime: Lambtown U.S.A.

The 21st annual Dixon Lambtown U.S.A. festival came around again this weekend. Lambtown originally started in the mid-1980s as a way for the small Central Valley town of Dixon to celebrate their their links to lamb and sheep production, and to draw people to the town best known for a 5-day country fair in early May (the Dixon May Fair). Dixon was one of the centers of California lamb (as in "leg of") production during most of the 20th century, with two large meat-packing plants providing most of the town's non-farming employment. Dixon needs all the help it can get in the summer: the town is located in the "agriculturally-oriented" eastern part of Solano County, and July there is both incredibly hot (around 100 degrees) and humid. The festival, famous for its lamb cook-off, mutton-busting, and sheep shearing competition, began to change about seven years ago with the addition of a wool show and fiber festival, and is now Northern California's mid-summer fiber festival.

This year's festival came about in spite of the trials and tribulations that only small town politics can cause. The festival, depending on who you talk to, has been the victim of poor attendance, poor publicity, high prices for renting the festival site, lack of volunteers, lack of corporate sponsors, or a combination of issues and problems. The festival was moved from the Dixon May Fair Grounds, up the street to the smaller, but much nicer, Hall Park between the Dixon City Hall and the Senior Center. The festival was cut from two days to one, with the resulting logistical headaches caused by cramming two days worth of fiber classes and competitions into one. The livestock-related events (which are the big draw, according to some of the local papers) such as mutton-busting, competitive sheep shearing, and sheep dog trials, had to be cancelled.

Note to the powers-that-be at the Dixon May Fair Grounds: I heard how much you wanted ($,$$$/day) to rent your facilities. You can rent the entire Solano County Fairgrounds--including the horseracing track--for less.

We (I "dragged" my friend Betsy along with me) got down there early on Saturday morning, and started off the day by checking out the forty or so fiber vendors. Alpacas seem to be the current favorite livestock "pet," and most of the vendors had alpaca fleece, alpaca roving, alpaca yarn, and items made from alpaca for sale; one vendor even had a very cute Suri alpaca (but I don't think he was for sale). Instead, his owner had taught him a few very cute "stupid alpaca tricks," and had him performing for treats (alpaca pellets). This fair, I was smart: I came armed with a list, and pretty much stuck to it. I found a grist control card to help me continue to work on consistency, got a new multi-hole diz for pulling sliver off the combs, and a Weavette for doing up samples, as they seem to be required more and more for skein competitions. I admired all the alpaca, but didn't buy any; I already have a pile of millspun alpaca to knit/crochet, some alpaca to spin, and too much fiber already. Anyway, I was waiting to pick up my fleeces from Black Sheep, and find another fleece.

Eventually, we found our way over to the Senior Center, where the Skeins & Textiles competition was on display. Much to my delight, there was a blue, first-place ribbon on the Monmouth Cap, and a red, second-place ribbon on the skein of SoySilk I swore and sweated over. The 3-ply Gotland I rushed to finish for this fair didn't place, but I'm not surprised--it's my first attempt at 3-plying off 3 bobbins, and it's difficult to control the tension properly.

After a leisurely survey of the entire fair, we went back to the car, retrieved our wheels, and set up camp under a shady tree for an afternoon of spinning. So many people came by to watch and ask questions I felt like I was doing an impromptu demo of spinning techniques, but it was fun. Eventually, we moved closer to see the sheep shearing demonstration, and ended up with perfect seats for the National Spinning Competition. This competition is enough to test the mettle of the best spinner, as it requires the winning spinner to be good at lots of different things: spinning consistently, plying, designing novelty yarns on the fly, spinning blindfolded, and spinning in rubber dish gloves. The prize for the winner was a nice reward for all this work: a Kromski Sonata spinning wheel.

There was a wool show and sale that, after Black Sheep, seemed small (about 60 fleeces, including mohair and alpaca), but most of the local woolgrowers were well represented. The Grand Champion fleece was a luscious white Merino, while the other top fleeces were a yummy dark charcoal Halfblood and a lustrous Romney x Coopworth. The logistics of the move and shortening the fair may have intruded on the wool show and sale, as the tent where the wool show was going on was used for the National Spinning Competition, people couldn't easily get to the fleeces to examine and purchase them. Also, for some reason, most of the fleeces didn't have prices on them, and it was difficult to transact a sale, as the fleeces didn't have the growers' names on them. Fortunately, I "lucked out" in several ways: I found a beautiful black Romney that had a reasonable price on it, and was able to find the grower--Ace Vandenack--and give him the cash I had for buying fleece. Mr. Vandenack joked that he didn't really want to sell the fleece and was considering showing it again, then let me keep the first-place ribbon the fleece had won in its class (Natural Colored Wool, 50-54s).

We missed the Spinners Lead, as we weren't sure where it was happening, and both of us had promised to help one of the vendors pack up her booth, so we spent the rest of the fair relaxing, packing, and moving boxes, baskets, bins, bags, and spinning wheels into various cars and trucks. We came home with a back seat full of wool, sunburns, and a renewed appreciation for our craft. Below are a couple of photos of the black Romney fleece, but they don't do it justice: the fleece is really black, and the few brown tips are dark brown, rather than the orange in the photograph. But you can see the wonderful crimp and lock structure.

Spin Journal #7: Cooking Up Something Wild

After stewing, simmering, and baking the "found" Romney to get some truly wild yarn, I've knitted a silly hat based on a pattern for a South American chullo hat. For some reason, this hat has earned the nickname of a "Jayne Hat," after appearing on a character in the TV show Firefly (which I've never seen). The hat itself is a simple stockinet cap with ear flaps, but trimmed out with all manner of yarn braids. Since starting the hat, I've noticed it appearing in all sorts of unusual places, including on the head of Ron Weasley in the 3rd Harry Potter movie.

The Cherry/Blue Berry Kool-Aid Colortwist ended up with the colortwist spaced far enough apart that the yarn self-striped. To make it a truly "unique" (is that code for "ugly"?), I put several yarn braids sprouting out of the crown. More yarn braids on the ends of the ear flaps keep them from curling up like overcook calamari (a problem with stockinet knitting); the individual braids looked a little skimpy, so I combined them into 4-braid plaits.

I'm now the proud owner of a completely silly, one-of-a-kind, warm hat to wear at cold fiber-related events. One thing about this hat: everybody will know it's mine. Who else would make or wear such a hat? Who else would wear such a hat? The darling, long-suffering, and ever-patient husband consented to serve as my model for these photos of my latest creation.

White, Red, and Blue, Blue, Blue!

Once again, the Solano County Fair has come and gone. It's rather like a rite of mid-summer: the Fair opens, almost nobody shows up except those loonies (like me) that love county fairs, the Fair closes, and I go pick up my entries and a sheaf of ribbons.

This year, I didn't enter any jams, jellies, or pickles in the Preserved Foods competition. Preserved Foods is a bit tricky to do in the Bay Area: most of the county fairs happen just as the major canning season starts, and things have to be put up within 1 year of the opening day of the fair. This means you either spend most of the summer putting up things that won't be judged for nearly a year, or you scramble at the last minute to come up with award-winning entries. I've done both, and won both Best of Show and Reserve Best of Show in both 2004 and 2006. However, I didn't do any canning last summer because it was much too hot, and then we went on vacation for 3 weeks. I tried to do a little canning right before the deadline, but my heart really in it this year, and I wasn't satisfied with the results, so I just passed on entering anything.
I made up for the lack of Preserved Foods by entering a bunch of different things in different Textile and Baked Goods classes. Even though I was hampered by a bad can of baking powder--Clabber Girl, the baking powder I've used for the past 40 years seems to have been reformulated to remove any trans-fats (in baking powder?!?) and doesn't act the same as the old baking powder--I still had 9 of 10 entries finish "in the money," and 5 of the 9 had blue ribbons tacked up next to them. I did nearly as well in the fiber arts: 6 of 7 entries finished in the money, and 3 won blue ribbons.

But wait! There's more!

I came home Friday evening, and there was a telephone message from someone at the Solano County Fair, telling me I had won a "special award," and that I and two guests were being "comped" admission to the Fair on Saturday, so I could be present at the awards ceremony at 6:00 p.m. As we were already going to the Fair with a bunch of friends, and had a fistful of comped admission tickets already, I didn't worry about retrieving the comp tickets. We went off to the Fair, spent an hour buying different snack-like foods (corn dogs; garlic fries) that went well with beer, and made our way over to the MacCormack Building for the big awards ceremony. We got there early, snagged perches on a couple benches, and waited. And waited. AND WAITED. Nearly an hour after the ceremony was supposed to start, it finally did...with the announcements of the winners of the different 4H awards. Now, I don't have a problem with 4H, and it was sort of cute (for the first 10 minutes) to see these little kids go up to receive little trophies and cash prizes for growing 28-lb. cabbages, making the best jam, or stuffing and mounting a buffalo head. However, it was hot (the MacCormack Building doesn't have air conditioning), everybody was tired, and we missed several hours of the fair.

However, the Fair officials finally got the end of all the kids' awards, and announced that Meyer Cookware Co. had donated two of their 5-piece bakeware sets for a Cookie Bake-Off, so all the cookie entries had been entered. A little girl who won for her baking won the Junior Division Cookie Bake-Off, then the official doing the emceeing said, "During the entry check-in, a woman came in with all these entries, and when I said she must be hoping to win at least one blue ribbon, she said, 'I don't do this for the blue ribbons...I'm going for the Best of Show, Reserve Best of Show, and the Sweepstakes.' Well, she didn't win those, but her cookie entry was loved by every one of the judges. The winner of the Senior Division Meyer Cookie Bake-Off is Dawn Jacobson!" The Lizzies, made from a recipe from my grandmother's cousin Mary, had won what turned out to be this year's top prize. I was both very pleased (it's a great recipe) and very embarrassed (Did I really sound that arrogant?) as I went up, posed for a "grab it and grin" photo, and got my set of bakeware, to the cheers and applause of my friends and the rest of the crowd.

So, the results:

Blue (1st Place) Ribbons:
--Banana Bread (my grandmother's recipe wins for the second year in a row)
--Streusel Coffee Cake
--Carrot-Pineapple Muffins
--Lizzies
--Lemon-Poppyseed Bread
--Handspun Yarn, 2-ply, Other Than Wool (SoySilk)
--Handspun, Handknitted Item (Monmouth Cap)
--Handknitted Item, Other (Child's Vest)

Red (2nd Place) Ribbons:
--Currant Scones
--Handspun Yarn, 2-ply, Wool (Corriedale)
--Handknitted Item, Socks

White (3rd Place) Ribbons:
--Hot Milk Cake
--Chile-Cheese Cornbread
--Nut Brown Bread
--Handspun Yarn, Singles, Wool (Suffolk)

Landscaping, or "You couldn't pay me to do this!"

I've been remiss in writing my blog, spinning, or weaving the bookmarks due October 1st because we (me and the long-suffering, ever-patient husband) have been relandscaping the front yard. Landscaping is one of the items on that short list of things that I will do for myself (because I'm a cheapskate), but that I would never willingly do for any amount of money, because it's far too much like work.

"Gardening" is not "landscaping." Gardening is fun. I love to putter in the garden, snipping dead flowers off the roses, pulling a few weeds, especially with a lovely cold beverage at hand, and the promise of grilled food and dinner on the patio that evening. Landscaping, on the other hand, involves moving large quantities of very heavy topsoil, fertilizer, soil amendments, and mulch. Landscaping requires the use of tools like rakes, shovels, and in our area, a mattock (which most non-gardeners refer to as a "pick-axe"). Landscaping is hot, dirty work that includes multiple trips to the Yard Waste Center (for clean topsoil), the local building materials yard (for mulch), several nurseries, and Home Depot, sometimes all in the same day.

We have slowly (OK, very slowly) been relandscaping nearly the entire property since purchasing the house in 1994. Part of the delay has been money--landscaping can be very costly, especially when you have to put in "infrastructure" (retaining walls, patios, a garage, etc.). Part of the delay has been time--it's hard to tackle a big landscaping job over a weekend, and many of our weekends are taken up with other things. Part of the delay has also been trying to decide what will grow best in each area, as we have a property that can best be described as "problematic."

The big problem is the soil: there isn't any. Our property is on the northeastern slope of a large sandstone hill, with 4 to 12 inches of clay. Dig through the clay and you hit the sandstone. Dig down through the sandstone enough (about 7 feet), and you hit water, because we have a very high water table. When we first bought the house, I managed to dig up one bed on the east side, and improve the soil to the point I can grow roses and irises in it. Otherwise, plants are limited to what can be grown in containers and raised beds. We "hardscaped" (a fancy term for "paved over") the backyard--not difficult to do once most of the backyard was taken up with a garage--and built large raised beds around the patio for a nice collection of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. Doing all this work takes time, so the front yard was left until we had the time, energy, money, and desire to relandscape the entire front, an area about 15x75 feet on the north side and east sides of the property dominated by a huge Monterey pine. The entire yard sloped down toward the streets (it's on a corner).

This is the third time we're landscaping the front yard. The first time, we ripped out the junipers, repaired the board-and-gravel stairs, and planted arctotis stoechadifolia (African Daisy) across the slopes. The goal was to create a simple, low-maintenance, drought-tolerant front yard. The result was a bunch of dead plants that either didn't get enough sun (thanks to the slope), were poisoned by the acid soil (thanks to the pine), or were run over (thanks to the stolen motorcycle that crashed into the front yard).

The second landscaping adventure included putting in retaining walls (goodbye slopes!), trying (and failing) to get rid of the oxalis that blooms every spring, and seeding (and reseeding) a lawn. I actually managed to get a nice lawn growing on the 100 square feet that got enough sun and weren't under the pine tree. The lawn died last summer when we had two weeks of 90+ temperatures, and I couldn't put enough water on the lawn to keep it alive. The only things to survive were the hydrangeas and Sprenger asparagus ferns planted in wine barrels along the foundation of the house--they were in the perpetual shade.

This time, I'm giving in to the demands of the pine, the terrain, and exposure (garden-speak for how much sun the area gets). It's quite a mix, from complete shade to lots of sun, from hard-packed clay to very acidic loam (years of pine needle mulch creates that). I sat down with my trusty Sunset Western Garden Book, looked at lists of plants that like permanent shade, partial shade, bright sun, filtered sun, acidic soil, and are easy to grow, and came up with a nice plan and plant list. The list is heavy on azaleas, ferns, and a rhododendron in the shady, acidic areas under the pine, the hydrangeas and ferns in the complete shade in front of the house, and more sun-loving plants (including a gardenia, several dietes, and lots of bulbs) in the sunny spots. We've "sculpted" small hills to create enough topsoil for the plants to thrive, in spite of being planted on a bed of clay and sandstone, with paths in between the hills for access through different parts of the garden. The entire yard is now bordered by a boxwood hedge and soon have that finished "professional" look by judicious mulching with ground redwood bark (aka "gorilla hair"), both to hide the drip watering system and to protect the plants while they're getting established. The azalea in the photograph above, which was "borrowed" from the Azalea Society of America's Website, is "Redbird," one of the 4 varieties of red and pink azaleas in the yard.

So I'm spending a little money (less than $2,000), some time (about 150 man hours), and a great deal of energy, to save a great deal of money (about $20,000). An equitable trade-off for my own yard, but you couldn't pay me enough to do this in your yard!

Answering the Call and Getting a Hang-up

After a marathon baking session and dropping off all my baked goods at the Solano County Fairgrounds, I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening parked on the divan, spinning and flipping channels to watch the LiveEarth concerts. Mindless, if relatively preachy, entertainment, and just what I was in the mood for, after all the baking.

For those who were in the mountains and completely cut off from civilization for the past week or two, LiveEarth was a series of 9 concerts on 7 different continents, featuring 150 artists, most of whom you've never heard of. I must admit, I was surprised by a few absences--most notably, U2--but I guess their Big Issues (Africa and baby seals) take priority over the planet. Or perhaps they felt, as Roger Daltry commented, "No concert is going to save the Earth." Perhaps not, but it was nice to see a benefit concert series that didn't hit you up for money every 2 seconds; instead, the organizers and their sponsors (most notably, Philips--the lightbulb company) just reminded people to recycle, drive less, and replace their incandescent lightbulbs with Compact Fluorescents (CFs), in the hope that you would run down to your local home improvement store and buy CFs--preferably Philips--to replace your wasteful incandescent bulbs.

The continuing refrain through all this was "Answer the Call," but the exact details were a little fuzzy. At one point yestday, Al Gore ("the former 'next president of the United States'") exhorted the crowd at the "New York" (actually, the Meadowlands in East Rutherford, NJ) to take a pledge to do all this stuff (get the United States to sign the Kyoto Accords, cut personal CO2 pollution, not support construction of any more coal-fired power plants, etc.), but most of it is pretty vague. I've noticed over the years that, while people like grand statements ("Cut CO2 emissions"), they need specific tasks to get anything done ("Turn the thermostat down and put on a sweater.").

The downside of events such as LiveEarth is that they really are "one-day wonders." Everybody comes together for a great day of great music (personally, I would have paid for a ticket to the concert in London's New Wembley Stadium), but once the music is over, everybody goes home and goes right back to what they were doing on Friday, albeit with a sunburn and a hangover. It doesn't address the issue (the environment), perhaps because the real work for environmental change is just that: work. It's sitting in meetings, talking to people, reading research, writing letters, articles (and these days, blogs), sitting in more meetings, talking to more people, helping draft legislation, and so on. People remember the first Earth Day (April 22, 1970), but most people don't remember what led up to it: a horrendous oil spill off the beautiful coasts of Ventura and Santa Barbara counties in California that was the largest oil spill until the Exxon Valdez disaster in 1989. Most people also don't remember what came after: lots of work, lawsuits, politicking, and finally legislation to give California some of the toughest environmental laws in the U.S., including banning oil-drilling off the California coast. The laws have been effective--California is a pretty darned nice place to live--but they took a lot of work, and continue to take a lot of work to keep everybody following them. All that work never was mentioned yesterday as people enjoyed listening to the Beastie Boys, Alicia Keys, and the Police.

The other problem with issue-generated concerts such as LiveEarth is...you're preaching to the choir here in the Jacobson household. I switched most of the lightbulbs to CFs years ago; in some cases, I'm on my second CF (the porch light). I didn't do it because I'm a "granola-eating, Birkenstock-wearing, blissninny" (although I do like granola and Birkenstocks), but because they save money and I'm cheap. Same for the water-saving showerhead, and the hot water heater set at 135 degrees, and the thermostat set at 65 during the winter ("You're cold? Put a sweater on!"), and recycling all the pop cans, and separating the garbage, and, and, and... You get the picture. I grew up in a household where saving money was essential, and the less money that went for the utility bills, the better, so I learned to take really quick showers, save water, turn off lights, and wear sweaters. I still follow that same philosophy today; if it helps the environment, so much the better.

So, in the dual interests of saving money and helping the environment, here's how to make your very own "GottLite" for less than $10 (a knock-off of a very expensive brand of craft light):

"GottLite"

Equipment needed:
1 lamp that uses a standard incandescent bulb
1 5000K (aka "daylight") CF for an incandescent bulb socket

Unplug the lamp. Remove the incandescent bulb. Screw in the CF. Plug the lamp in. Turn the lamp on and use.

Black Sheep or Bust, Part III--Shopping!

The highlight of the Black Sheep Gathering is, of course, the incomparable shopping! Nearly 100 vendors from all over the West Coast gather in three of the barns at the fairgrounds to set up one of the best fiber marketplaces around. Add to this Oregon's lack of sales tax (the price you see is what you pay), and nearly every Californian at BSG went a little crazy, buying nearly everything in sight.

After all, how can you resist sights like entire display walls filled with nothing but hanks of Chasing Rainbows silk roving? I didn't even try. While I didn't take home everything on the wall, I did manage one skein dyed beautiful shades of purple (the colorway is named "Purple Haze"). Classes are conveniently scheduled with 2-hour lunch breaks and wrap up before the "Trade Show" closes, so a lot of shopping can be accomplished, if one is determined and can manage not to suffer from fiber overload. It's possible, but it's tough. After all, you walk in with a shopping list, and find all that other stuff that isn't on the list, but is stuff you really need (a convenient euphemism for "want"). And how are you supposed to pick just one drop spindle (it was on the list, I swear), when you can choose from Jonathon Bosworth's lovely spindles, or Steve Paulson's beautiful and unusual Spindlewood square drop spindles? In the end, I didn't even try. I "settled" for a birch and purpleheart Bosworth, and a cocobolo and ebony Spindlewood.

In the midst of all this shopping, the Wool Show and Sale is going on. The judging takes place all day on Friday and in the morning on Saturday, and is well worth attending. The judge(s) wear microphones, and the good judges explain what they're looking for, and the good points and bad points of each fleece, so it's a great free lesson on selecting good fleece. Once all the judging is finished, all the fleeces to be sold are set out on tables and everybody has about an hour to closely examine them and decide which fleeces they're going to try to purchase. Then the doors close, everybody lines up, and makes a mad dash for the fleece(s) they want to buy. This year's fleeces were beautiful, and as BSG is the colored sheep show and sale, this is where one buys colored fleeces. I ran through the sale room during my lunch break on Saturday, found a magnificent black Corriedale, and made arrangements with the daughter of one of my guild members to stand in line and grab the fleece for me when the sale began, as I would be back in class. I wasn't sure I was going to get it, so I cruised through the "non-show" fleeces, just to see if there might be something nice. I stumbled across a big (7 pounds), gorgeous, silver variegated Border Leicester that just cried out to be combed and spun, so I bought it as a "consolation" fleece in case I didn't get the Corriedale. Much to my delight, I did get the Corriedale, so I sent both fleeces directly to the wool mill to be scoured.

Since I didn't have classes on Sunday, I was able to finish looking at everything in the Trade Show, and finish my shopping. Rule #5 (right after "always bring a list," and "leave the credit cards at home"): Don't send purchases back to the tent so you don't have to carry them around. Having to lug around purchases slows down how much you spend, because you're conscious of how much you've already spent. Having an obliging husband carry bundles back to the tent for you frees up your hands to touch, consider, and buy, including helping a friend pick out dyes for her next project, a large silk flag (we're looking for Scarlet Red among all the boxes of Cushing's Perfection Dyes).

So, all in all, it was a great show. After BSG closed at 4:00 p.m., we helped people get their stuff packed up, and then hit the road ourselves, pointing out and chuckling over the cars heading down the road toward California, bags of fleece strapped to the top or filling up the back. We traveled as far as Grant's Pass, then finished the drive back to the Bay Area the following day. Next year's trip is already in the planning stages, and I'm frantically combing, carding, spinning, and weaving to clear out space for all my new tools and fibers.

Black Sheep or Bust, Part II--The Classes

One of the features of the Black Sheep Gathering are the teachers pulled together for several tracks of really great classes. There are two types of classes--1/2-day, lasting 3 hours, and full-day, lasting 8 hours with a 2-hour lunch in the middle--and tracks include fiber processing, spinning techniques, needlework techniques, and animal husbandry. You can mix and match the tracks to take the classes you want, but you have to sign up early--I barely got into the Woolcombing Basics class, and the silk spinning class filled up before I could get in. In place of that I took Blending for Effect, which turned out to be just the class I needed. This year, classes ran from $40 (half-day) to $75 (full-day), plus nominal fees for materials. I was delighted when I found out that Paula Shull, the Woolcombing Basics teacher, "bent" the rules a little bit and allowed me in her class. I saw her give a demo of woolcombing about 10 years ago, and on the basis of that demo, bought a pair of Indigo Hound 5-pitch English wool combs. I tried over the years to use them properly, but couldn't seem to get the hang of it; now I had a chance to learn from the person who got me started!

Friday morning saw me hoisting my Wendy wheel on my back, packing up my wool combs, and trekking over to the Catholic school BSG uses for the classes each year. When I got there, I found a large room with a multitude of different types of combs, all being clamped securely to tables, and big bags of freshly washed fleece, waiting to be combed. Promptly at 8:30, Paula began the class, and we dove into the incatricies of woolcombing. Paula is a great teacher: she's very down-to-earth and practical, and has a way about her that gives you the feeling that she won't coddle you, but she also will give you a hand if you're making a complete hash of something. Paula originally learned woolcombing from Peter Teal, and was careful to explain the differences between Peter's technique (in which you add olive oil and water back to the fleece and comb with warm combs) and her technique (in which you start with clean fleece and cold combs, and just add a little water to control the static electricity). I liked her technique (the finished yarns don't become rancid from the olive oil), and found that there are some combs I don't like (such as the Majacraft mini-combs), and some combs I absolutely love (like my 5-pitch English combs). We combed lots of fleece, found that combing can get rid of scurf, learned a cool trick for separating down from hair in double-coated fleeces with a set of Viking combs, and saw a quick demonstration of how to spin worsted to take advantage of the combed wool. I've gone from being a little frightened of my combs to loving them, and even bought a set of Indigo Hound Viking combs and a Forsythe blending hackle to do some other things with wool to be combed.

After Friday's woolcombing breakthrough, Saturday's Blending for Effect class was a nice counterbalance. Taught by Jill Laski of Ashland Bay Trading, the class was a "back to the basics" of color blending using about 40 different colors of Merino top and a drum carder. I haven't worked so hard in a class since my days in college. After a short lecture on the care and maintenance of drum carders in general (for example, you should always take the poly belts off belt-drive drum carders, or the belts wear out faster from being under tension all the time, and they're a pain to replace), she launched into a discussion of color that took me back to my days in Basic 2D Design. Then we had to card batts of Merino top to meet certain color requirements, and manipulate some of of the batts to make lighter, darker, cooler, and warmer yarns. I ended up with about 14 batts, enough to make 28 large sample skeins that illustrate each effect. And that was just in the morning! After lunch, we got to play with texture, when Jill pulled out the exotics and different fibers, and let us play with blending them to make new and interesting yarns. I created some truly bizarre combinations (such as black alpaca with shocking pink silk), but also some really nifty stuff (red/brown shades of Merino, sky blue silk, black mohair). Needless to say, there was no way I could spin up everything as I was making it, even though Jill recommended that we spin a sample before carding large batts to make sure the yarn was what we wanted. Again, another terrific class, with lots of great information and the confidence to create my own yarns. Never again will I have to spend a bunch of money for mill-spun yarn--I can make it all myself!

Black Sheep or Bust, Part I--Traveling and Camping

I spent the last weekend in Eugene, OR, at the Black Sheep Gathering, one of the larger wool and fiber shows and sales on the West Coast. I spent way more money than was probably good for me, but everything I came away with I either needed or wanted, so it was a greally great show.

This year, I took Amtrak from Martinez to Eugene. The Wednesday night Coast Starlight is sort of the "Fiber Express," as it's the one most of the West Coast fiber people take, if they are going to take the train. I've traveled by train before, but never this long in coach (normally Stephen and I get a sleeper and travel 1st class for long trips). However, at less than $50 for a ticket, it seemed like a cheap way to get where I wanted to go. I wasn't truly travelling alone--several other members of my guild also went by train.

As usual, Amtrak was late getting into Martinez. We were supposed to leave at 10:54 p.m. on Wednesday night, but it was 12:11 when we finally pulled out of Martinez on our way north. One of the guildmembers had alerted the conductor that I was getting on in Martinez, so I had a seat near them. I had just started to doze off when we pulled into Sacramento, and my seatmate got on: a coach traveler's worst nightmare. I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep, defending my seat (Why are there no armrests to separate the seats?), and blocking out the overhead lights and the snores and coughs of my seatmate. As soon as it was light enough to quit pretending to sleep, I bolted for the Lounge Car, knitting bag in hand, and spent the rest of the trip in the Lounge Car.

The scenery on the trip north is spectacularly beautiful, especially this time of year. The route winds around Mount Shasta, along several rivers, and through lots of forest. It was the way I like to travel--pretty scenery passing by the window, while I work on a piece of needlework. Several other guildmembers did the same. We finally managed to get seats all together, and didn't give them up until lunch, afterwhich it was almost time to get off the train in Eugene.

This year, I decided to camp out with other members of the guild. Camping at the Lane County Fairgrounds is really pretty nice. The fairgrounds has a big, grassy field behind the buildings, right next to a creek, and the field is exactly between the show and sale, and the classes. There's no running water in the camping area, but there is a Porto-San in case of emergencies, and the fairgrounds' nice bathrooms (complete with showers) is only a few minutes walk away. Camping is also nice, because you have a place to hang out if you don't feel like going to a class, looking at sheep, or shopping, you can have an ice chest full of goodies to eat and drink, and (best of all) you save lots of money that can be spent on fiber! Our little encampment had about 6 tents surrounding a couple awnings, and the awnings became our "Spinning Central," where we could gather to chat, spin, and relax. We "potlucked" our meals, and each afternoon, somebody with a car made a trip to a grocery store to stock up for dinner that night and breakfast the following morning. Having at least 1 car accessible is a big help, as the fairgrounds are in what is now primarily residential, and the nearest grocery store is nearly a mile away. The weather was nearly perfect (we got a few sprinkles on Sunday morning), but the nights were cold. The photo was taken near sunset on Friday, and it had ready dropped into the upper 50s before the sun set. A good sleeping bag and a wool blanket made for perfect cover to sleep in my tent.

Spin Journal #6: Cooking Up Something Wild

Tried the Ice Blue Lemonade Kool-Aid, and discovered that you get a nice light blue, but it still wasn't as dark as I wanted. Sigh. OK, back to the drawing board, or dye pot. While I was waiting for the first skein of Romney to dry so I could check the color, I finished spinning and plying the rest of the Romney, so I have about 6 ounces (approximately 255 yards) of finished yarn.

The second try was with Blue Berry Kool-Aid: 6 packets of Blue Berry and 2 packets of Ice Blue Lemonade, along with 1 1/2 cups of vinegar and enough water to cover the balls of yarn. This time I gave the dye pots (my stainless steel saucepans) 90 minutes in the oven at 210 degrees and then let them cool in the liquor overnight before rinsing. This time, I got a much "bluer" blue, and the red from the Cherry Kool-Aid is more subdued than in the yarn dyed with the Ice Blue Lemonade Kool-Aid. The yarn is a variegated blue through a process known as "cloud dyeing": you roll the undyed yarn into a ball (I use a ball winder), then dye it rolled up. The dye doesn't penetrate completely, and you get these lovely clouded patterns in the finished yarn.

The other skeins are some other yarns dyed with Orange and Grape Kool-Aid. I have all this yarn I've spun, but never done anything with, so I'm trying to get rid of some of it by dyeing it up bright colors. Perhaps the fact that it's dyed will motivate me to do something with it.