The living room is still tidy, I think because I have not sat in it. On Wednesdays, one washes rocks at the lab in Concord on behalf of the living ( the people of New Hampshire and specifically, us in SCRAP (see link at sidebar)) and the very dead, in this case say 7-9000 years ago. They sure made a mess in that quarry. We have been washing some of the returns from that dig since the summer of 2000. They are not very interesting, even as flakes of weathered gray stone go. My morale has been lifted by Dawn, a volunteer/part time contract digger part-time Wal-Mart employee, who says her mom and her friends constantly complain about her obsessive tendencies. They are so very welcome in the lab. Just seeing the neatly stacked, carefully inventoried stack of plastic bags (of horrible rocks) helps me believe we will one day finish the stuff. And then some lucky grad student can study it.
My ex came for lunch. The main reason he is my ex is that he was transsexual and is now legally Jennifer. I am making her a garter-stitch scarf in Charles' Cancun and Sof-twist. It is kind of busy but very Eastery and I just wanted to knit something in pastels. Please don't look down on me.
My father tried on the first complete sock today; I am about a quarter of the way up the second cuff and he refused to risk injury trying on the second. Since he and my mom were buying lunch I could hardly force the issue. Lovely as the Mountain Goat Moose River is, it's NOT springlike colors.
We have now completed Ellie's mittens, even to a fancy button so she can hang them to dry. The button is not a quiet color, but then neither are the mittens. She likes them. I really, for whatever reason, enjoyed twining them and having them turn out thick but flexible and still fluffy (even if working with half-alpaca for the mittens and kid mohair in the socks is making Wendy Merino seem kind of harsh by comparison).
This doesn't quite show the colors true.
Since I have been working on this entry rather sporadically, it's now Saturday rather than Thursday. Last night Sarah and I spun. Because of Yarn Harlot, the time spent preparing the fiber and pre-drafting was noticeable. Sometimes actually preparing the roving helps, unless the roving has been savaged so much by cats and carelessness that the neps are irrremovable (I know a lot about this). In the process of tidying I found a roving I dyed one day when the Sheep Thrillers got together. The Yarn Harlot navaho plies. I do not, at least yet (Sarah did, though, and it came out nicely as her yarn usually does. It's a good thing I like her).
I split the roving down the middle and then fluffed it out.
To my surprise and delight quite a lot of the colors in each ply spun together. The barber-poling is not overwhelming. I only wish I had more than maybe 15 grams of the roving. More dyeing is in my future. Would New England-area readers want to try to get together here with Sarah and me sometime?
6 comments:
Wish I lived closer and I would come. I would try to get you to help me feel comfortable with my new spinning wheel. Clearly I need to find a class- knitting and weaving have not prepared me for spinning. Did you ever have an inkling about Jennifer before the fact? That's a personal question, so don't feel you need to answer. I've just noticed that sometimes we pick a partner when we need one thing or we're in a certain spot developmentally and then that changes and whoa! Now looks what's happening! It's melting here in Michigan, too, but only under the influence of heavy cold rain. But if I count this as the first heavy rain of season then the second will bring the Spring Peepers, guaranteed, without fail.
Cheers!
Inklings: he told me had had wanted to be a woman since he was 10 at our Engaged Encounter Weekend, the week before we got married. In 1979 I don't think many people knew much about transsexuals (Ann Landers was sure no help) and Dave thought getting married would get him over it. I just thought since he was my best friend and we both had good intentions, everything would all be fine. It wasn't. I think it came as a shock to him at the time, but one frequent thing about (probably everyone, but particularly tranvestites and transsexuals) seems to be that they don't understand why it should make so big a diffference to anyone else, even though it is the single most important thing in their own lives. HenowShe is an excellect ex-husband and does one's bet to be a good dad. I am very impressed how well the kids (who were raised to be screaming liberals, fortunately for all of us)have adapted. (Push came to shove in 1998. Shouldn't I be over it all be now?) As far as living happily ever after, I think I was really important in terms of Dave's development, partly by screeching at him to leave and get on with her life! It was probably the best possible marriage for him. I am on the bruised side, myself, but considering how arrogant I was (am) I suppose it has been a good thing for me. And I really like our kids, now 20 and 18.
As to peepers, I am excited and hoping some of the place around this house (we moved here in July last year)will be peeper ponds. Lord knows there were some mosquitoes.
Technically Maine is New England, but the fact that you guys are close to 200 miles as the ole crow flies, it places you slightly out of reach.
Would never judge you for who your ex is, or who he became. Glad that he's not the James-turned-Jennifer that wrote a book about his experience. He, too, seemed not to think about how his choices would affect his wife and kids. Glad you two still have a good relationship.
The spinning looks great...I only ever seem to get the colors to match up my chance. Must learn to Navajo ply. Maybe Sarah IS my teen idol.
Thanks for the response, Laura. Yup, I know well a couple of friends who married because they thought it would get them past gender issues- and it didn't. Both have had children in their marriages, both have gone on to form new happy long term relationships that fit them. It's a loss for you (what? you wanted a husband?1?) but there are the kids and that's a grand prize. Just posted about a night at our lake- barely bigger than a pond. Lucky you, ponds are incredibly fascinating little worlds. With our peepers come the little black salamanders and Sophie invariably escapes to the pond and comes back with a "present" They must taste bad because she has the expression of a contestant on a reality TV show as she drops it at my feet. I think the salamanders put off something toxic on their skin. Drove through Maine last summer enroute to P.E.I.; bought everyone's Christmas present at the Maine State Penitentiary Showroom in Thomassen :-)
me me me me me! Jumping up and down (or I would be if there weren't a kitten purring in my lap). I keep meaning to do some dying. And I have lots of white and not white wool to dye and spin before wool buying season starts again in earnest.
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