Tilt-a-whirl

Bing Cherries

Alright, here in California, Memorial Day weekend is Bing Cherry weekend. I think that the farmers spend their time doing a NO rain dance for the weeks leading up to this phenomenon; the ever so short season for these black/red morsels. I tried them about a week ago, after we had had a late season rain storm and was surprised to find them in the stores, simply because the weather had been so crummy that I forgot that summer was on the way. The first purchase seemed as though the fruit had been refrigerated because they went bad SO fast...you know...liquifaction. Puhleeze. Gross. Yesterday, with all of the Lafayette "in-crowd" having hauled their ashes up to Tahoe for the long weekend, The Husband and I had the local Safeway pretty much to ourselves, with the exception of a few other NORMAL people. Good LORD, they have peaches that smell like peaches (instead of plastic representations), strawberries that smell like strawberries (ditto the plastic) and great bulging bags of Bings. What is a shopper to do? Ummmm, load it up, baby. The problem with all of this fruit that smells like "home-made" fruit is that it has to be prepped and eaten right away! Let's just say that the Tankinator got his first taste of cherries (are we nuts? Maybe...) and watermelon yesterday and seemed to be mighty happy to share in the feast. Bings for lunch, Bings for an afternoon snack, Bings for an after dinner dessert, Bings in The Husband's lunch and Bings for my mid morning snack. The will be gone tonight, just in time to eat them before they "go bad". That will be that. Memorial Day weekend cherries. Done.

You see...we have a cherry tree in our back yard, a funky old tree that is hanging on to life by a tiny thread and that tiny thread still wants to produce some Bing wannabe's. The problem izzzzzzzzz...Mary Ellen and Mortimer Bluejay. I hear their progeny in the trees, making that noise that sounds like a tree scraping against a house. screeeeeeeeeeee screeeeeeeeeeeeee, which forces M&M to make more trips to the poor old tree, to feed those noisy babies. The Husband used to go through an elaborate ritual every year, draping that once heavy producing tree with acres of bird netting, closing in the morsels for us and The Kids. Well, our Kids are not Kids any more and so we have become more lax in trying to wrap up the couple of branches that still send out the blossoms...if we get a few to eat ourselves, well, it is a good year.

I had to put the second half of the Cormo back in the washer today after finding that in my haste, the lovely stuff was still a little greasy. (I do NOT want a sticky fleece) It went back in there with VERY hot water and detergent and will now go back out to the drying rack for the afternoon. This is a TWO pillowcase fleece, folks...B I G.

Today we find out the sex of the GF because The Daughter and The SIL are heading to the doctor for her 12 week look-see. I look forward to knowing WHO is coming, which will make it EVER so much easier to call that GF by name and shop like a drunken sailor. (My grandmother's favorite phrase for me as a kid with a little pocket money.)

I need to go throw that fleece out in the sun and get back to my spinning. Talk amongst yourselves.

One more thing while I'm at it...

You know how a cloud can really cool down a fiery hot afternoon? Do ya? Huh?

As Marilyn said to Tony in Some Like It Hot...Relaaaaaaaaaaaaaxxxxxxxxx. Sadie knows HOW. This cloud is a Cormo fleece.

Critical Mass...

You can take that title any darned way that you like but for me, it means that I am hitting the wall today. Blam! The weekend has been all about OTHER people and their needs. We are, The Husband and I, only children and parents of young adult children and not getting any younger. Yes, that means that we are the middle aged lunchmeat in the sandwich of life. This weekend, The Husband (after shopping for his elderly mother) helped The Son move the Fiancee into his apartment, with the help of my Big Ass Van, which will forever be the BAV. This all happened in San Francisco, where third floor apartments are up three flights of STAIRS. Needless to say, The Husband walked a little funny when he came home from that adventure, just in time to greet The Daughter, who was rolling in from the same City, fresh from a get together with her old roommates and members of the Preggo Club. Getting cross eyed yet?
While The Husband was busy with his adventures, I was trying to get something done, something that resembled work and got as far as this. Why did it happen to be that small and fun, you ask? Well, The Daughter DID bring The Pooch/Lump/Grand Fetus with her and this particular skein of yarn was begging to be turned into a kid sweater, PLUS I had the attention span of a gnat this weekend, due to all of the hubbub! I wanted to see how the new graduated colorways would translate into knitted things. I have avoided doing a lot of things that look ever so pretty in skeins and then turn into nightmares of color pooling. My signature Hard To Reproduce painted yarn has been a head scratcher for some Skein Lovers but once they see how random the colors become, they are convinced. It is just hard to get some people who horde and collect to jump in and knit with something, instead of letting it mature in the stash. (believe me, I hate those desperate calls and emails regarding MORE of something dyed two years ago...) I digress. I like this stuff and the way that it is presenting itself and so I will go forth and multiply.

So, The Husband and I took The Daughter and The GF out to dinner in our usual way of making sure that the GF that lives inside our Narrow Daughter gets lots to eat. Following all of that? We finished out our evening watching the Tivo'd Rob and Amber's Wedding (not cheesy, my friends...pretty darned cool) and The U2 Under the Brooklyn Bridge concert thing, which I can listen to over and over. The living room became a bedroom and we said goodnight.
Sunday morning found us heading in to Target with The Daughter and GF, being taken into a section of that store that magically appeared overnight...yes my friends...The baby department. Oh noooooooooooo. When did they put THIS in? Mom, sez The Daughter...it has been here all along, you have just never SEEN it. Uh oh, I have now SEEN it and have a reason to BE there and well, UH OHHHHHH. No, really I hardly bought anything yesterday. The GF is only 12 weeks old and so we have T I M E, but believe me, I fell in total love with that part of the store that I have never seen...Big Trouble. Grandma Heaven. (You itty bitty young bloggers can put your hands over your eyes and ears and go LALALALALA all that you want.) We got The Daughter and GF hooked up for their drive home to Folsom and started on our next phase of the Sandwich...

We headed to Home Depot for a new faucet for MY mother, who is also elderly and essentially a shut-in living in Miss Haveshom's (how does he spell it?) home. Faucet replacement may sound like a simple endeavor, a piece of cake thing but let me tell you...it sucks. This time, The Husband (he is in line for a halo, this man) was down on his back under my mother's sink, building up the muscles on the top of his body. I was The Scrub Nurse, since two ample bodies do not fit under there at the same time. Hold this, turn that, flashlight this...Three hours, my dears and that does not include the time shopping for said faucet and her groceries BEFORE the faucetectomy. (You wonder why there was no creation and blogging this weekend?) We completed it, the surgeon and I and now my mother is the proud owner of a magnificent new kitchen faucet that shines like a beacon in the room of a woman with failing eyesight.

So, when we returned from surgery, the only problem that we found from letting The Tankinator stay in the house instead of his crate was a little nibbling at a certain fleece bag. The writing was on the wall, Caroline...The Cormo began her journey from bag and butcher paper to many repeats of this
the bathroom sink and hot water and generous squirts of Dawn. On to the washer for a final rinse and the project moves to this.

I am about halfway there and would have probably just hauled that gorgeous bag of stuff around the house until something MADE me begin the process of turning those perfect locks of shimmery yellow locks into less than perfect but WHITE piles of soft soft spinnable fiber. In the words of Joan Crawford, NO COMBING EVER...well, not in this lifetime, anyway. I will give this fleece time to sit and dry and ponder itself before I turn those white locks into colorful locks and begin the final stage of their transformation.

This week begins that countdown time before the Santa Monica show, where my piles and piles of dyed and handspun yarn must become saleable items with labels. I look forward to my surfaces being clear again, when these colorful piles are tamed and put into the bins for the journey. A few more variations on the general new theme will be dyed but the old joke about the good news and bad news for the oar slaves rings true...Good news is, there will be extra rations of grog and food for all of you, the bad news is...the king wants to waterski. Fasten your seatbelts, the queen NEEDS to waterski.

Well, why not?

It was an interesting day, yesterday. I spent most of it giving solace and counsel to loved ones and friends and told the universe that I was fine with it, if this was how I was supposed to be of service to the scheme of things, for the day...I know, URP. Really, I do feel that way sometimes, if I tune in instead of ramming my head against the wall. It works a lot better for keeping me from being frustrated with "being interrupted" because I can see beyond the tips of my slightly stained sneakers, ya know?

Needless to say, the puppy has brought me to my knees a few times, playfully...a happy distraction and a necessary one. He continues his growth on a regular basis, consuming food with the typical Lab gusto, which translates to HE WOULD EAT UNTIL HE HURLED just because he can. I could have cropped this photo to emphasize his cuteness and the beauty of what people in other parts of the country consider an annual...yes, that is a Geranium in its overblown appearance. I could have cropped out the weedy grass and piece of wood, the top of Sasha's head and the crazy citrus but I decided to show you the whole thing. The divot that the T-man is crouched in is where once lived a beautiful rose bush and around it were tomatoes at one time. Oh yes, and spuds. This photo depicts the typical morning around here...Tank finding one of Sasha's old baby toys, enticing her to play. Within a moment of this shot, he was off like a rocket, with her at his heels. See? I have to stop and experience this moment, shut my eyes to the disappointment of losing the roses and tomatoes and just enjoy whatever the Universe is bringing next.

And so it goes like this. I finally got out to the dye room yesterday afternoon, with plans to just tweek the first play of Sky Drama, adding just a little MORE drama to one end of the spectrum. Here is a picture of a couple of different yarns with the same treatment. Sky Drama 2.
This is the same intensity as the first one but you can see the difference that morning light makes on how colors show themselves.

A yellow nylon Tug O' War is being shoved onto my lap...hmmm, do I work or do I play?

Bzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzz

Alright, I hear things. I really DO listen, which is why I put myself out into the world on occasion and do this blog thing. Listening is a good thing. When two people do the bzz bzz bzz Psst in my ear about a particular thing, well, I pay attention. Tip of the iceberg, you say. I dunno...I listen. Volcanic eruption they say, lava flow, sez another. Uh huh. Right.
Earth Birth, sez I.

This one is pretty, but not where I want it in its final look. Sky Drama.

Is that enough to warm up you lot in cold climates? Bzz bzzzz bzzzzzzzz.

Great hairy beast!

I just yelled a couple of Blue Words this morning when going out to do potty duty with the Thundering Herd. The Poor Rose Bush that was looking droopy with the sudden heat this week was looking more than droopy...it was looking bare. Uh oh. You see, last season's Year of the Gopher and Year of the Deer saw the demise of 5 rose bushes, herbs and other beautiful things in my back garden. Other things...other things...OH-MYYYY-GODDDDDDDD. Uh huh...you see that? Dambi. You see that poor lime and kumquat in big pots? They must stay that way because of gophers. Do you know why gophers have come up the hill from where they were happily living? The City hired some (insert blue word) "landscape guys" (more like MOON scape) to take care of the grasses on the strip of hilly
land between us and the frontage road that borders Higway 24. These dimwits have sprayed pre-emergent defoliant for the past couple of years, over the howls of the neighbors, killing EVERYTHING in its path and making the soil look deader than a doornail. The gophers have moved up the hill into our yards...WAY uphill into our yards. My little kitty, Sugar Pie, used to sit by the gopher holes and catch the progeny but now that she has lost her upper fangs (my two best hunters are suffering into their senior years) the gophers are too hard to kill. SOOOOOOOO, the gophers helped me to lower my expectations last year, in terms of what kind of a garden I could have in the back yard (the front is my GARDEN) and now that Dambi is back, well, do you feel my pain? I have been tenderly trimming those tomato plants, encouraging them and talking to them, looking forward to their big heirloom fruit, transporting myself back to the days when I had those beds filled with asparagus, peppers, corn, lettuce, tomatoes, strawberries and spuds. Down in the lower part of the yard (closer to poison land) we had a coop with egg producers, before the pointy toothed wild things found their way in, killing them and my desire to go through that pain again. Ah, summer in the suburbs, where the 'coons sneak in through the cat flap and the deer moon the dog, from the other side of the patio doors. Maybe I should just pave over it and build a bigger HOUSE...nah, who could afford the property taxes?

Tuesday Noodling

Well, The Daughter sez that the Grand-Fetus is growing nicely, thank you and that there is a pooch where there never was before. Imagine that! A bump, a curve where there was once a flat place. Hmmm, will wonders ever cease? Of course you KNOW that this is going to be dangerous...I am going to start getting excited and there will be no end to wanting to climb in the gas sucking BAV (that is the Big Ass Van, for the uninitiated) for a 3 hour round trip reconnaissance, which will involve baby stores and knucklehead things like that. The Son-in-law is busy doing his homework, getting himself ready for his long dreamed of fatherhood. Pretty cute.

I am ready for some more spinning, while watching fluffy television tonight. How could I miss The Wedding of Rob and Amber? Survivor/the Amazing Race/Wedding...the ultimate public couple. The couple that got help all around the world when people recognized them from Survivor. How cute. Listen, don't tell his men friends but The Husband is putting The Contender on the Tivo and The Wedding is what he wants to watch. How cool is that? Sniff.

Here is my gallery of what's going on here at workaholic central. The Cardigan is starting to have its first sleeve. Once this one is "thunk up" the other will be a piece of cake...no brainer. I hate to do two at the same time, with all of that ball juggling. No thank you. Phooey. See my Cinderella glass needles? Yes, I DO use them and happily. They are Sheila Ernst creations, you know. The light stuff is some of my merino/possum skein that I dragged home from NZ in the big fiber suitcase...it is getting fuzzier by the day.

I spun up some alpaca roving last night, thinking that I wanted to ply it with the Bird of Paradise merino but when I did a test run of the ply today, it stunk out loud. Ugh. Alright, what to do? I dragged that bobbin of merino in here and would it up on my big ballwinder, went back out to the wheel and plied it from both ends of the ball. Here you go.

Alright, I have one more picture to show you. This is what I will be doing while sitting in the Princess and the Pea spinning chair, making something out of that delicious pile of apple flavored candy floss. Deeeeelicious.

Sunday productivity

Yeah, I snapped out of it yesterday. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and The Husband vowed to finish his brick laying project. I should say RE-laying project, simply because he put in that pretty stuff along the driveway and then had to change the pitch of the path. He was out there on Saturday, sweating and digging and scraping and measuring. Now then, isn't it pretty? He was actually walking upright this morning, feeling pretty good...a weekend at the gym. :o) No more slacking off in the garden for me...I have no excuse now.

We DID have a little bit of playtime yesterday morning, before the path was worked on. Remember how I told you about Snorkel Dog, the puppy who is wishing for a kiddie pool? Here you have the dripping chops in action. Notice how Sasha (sporting her Rottie side and eschewing that stupid water) sits on the sidelines, egging on Mr. Chien de Cousteau. He is going to have a blast at the neighbor's pool this summer...Lab Heaven.

The fiber dried and so did the yarn. Here is the portrait of the stuff that was in the pot and the subsequent juicy green yarn. Sam, I will try to see how it translates to something with NO SILK...nothing squidgy for my pal.
I really can't wait to dive into that fiber and I am actually GLAD that it did not remain as saturated (read RETINA DAMAGE) all the way through. I think that the negative spaces will soften and make the strong acid green more to my liking. It really is like candy. Yum.

The new spinning will not happen until this is off of the wheel. I roared through about 8 ounces of this fiber last night and find that after doing the pin drafted stuff, my patience for spinning small stuff is renewed (small for ME, ok? No frog hair, thank you.). I may just ply this with a slightly larger spin for some textural yarn. Oh, yeah, this is the Bird of Paradise colorway.
I swear, that new Rose wheel is just super fast for me. I will put the WooLee Winder on for plying only, though. It seems to be able to pace me better and I love the evenly filled bobbins. It just can't keep up with the speed that I like for doing my singles...

Today is another beautiful day and so I will take advantage of the weather and "instant dry" situation, out in the Dye room. We set up the doggie barrier and so I can leave the doors open and have them free to join me or hang on the porch or in their crates, so my productivity will not be cramped by having a puppy. No excuses. :o)

Stepping Outside the Comfort zone

There is a little Danish Bird that has been tweeting to me recently. She is so joyful and full of color, this Danish Bird. I thought that in her honor, I would put one foot outside of my comfort zone (in silk/merino...I have been down this road in cotton) and honor the people that love these colors. Today I futzed and tinkered and here is a pot of tart lime-ade. Tweet tweet, little birdie. One step at a time. :o)

The saga continues

Ok, so I am trying not to trip over my bottom lip, feeling ever so mopey because *I* have to stay home with the puppy, knitting on the stupid sweater while The Husband slaves out in the yard and we miss the big KFOG concert and fireworks. I know, shut up and quit complaining but the news and the internet are taunting me, showing the happy throng of 300,000 that should have included ME in their number. Pout pout pout.

It has been an outstanding day, weather-wise and Tank decided to try his snorkle in the bus tub that is out on the deck for such a moment. He has the genetic code built in for water, this critter. I'm sorry that I did not have my camera with me when he was in there but suffice it to say that I will capture it before long. The Husband is convinced that we need a wading pool out there for the summer. Ahem, sez I...WHO is going to catch that knucklehead before he runs in to sit on the couch? EH??? I rest my case.

I promised a picture of the silk/merino, didn't I? It went to go live in Canada today and so I am back to thinking about what I want to spin next. :o) That is the extent of your Tank fix for the day...

What follows is the play by play of how the body of the sweater got from a tube to something with buttons. Here you go. The trusty sewing machine makes passes through lines of stitches.

When the sewing is complete, out come the sharp scissors and nerves of steel.
It feels really good but is still a shock to the system when you have also spun a lot of the yarn being knifed.

Here you have the results of all of the cuts; a limp rag.

At this point, I take this limp rag in to my dent in the couch, with my box of pins, and turn those cut edges into facings, sewn down with a secure whip stitch. I finish it and toast myself with a nice shot of Irish whiskey.

Today, the button bands go on.

See those beautiful buttons? They came from my buddy Sheila Ernst . You seeeeeeee, we had a boring show in SF this past March, with lots of time on our hands to do cartwheels in the aisles and execute trades...she got bags o' yarn and i got a bag of precious buttons, which I love to mix and match in garments where I am mixing my own yarn. Perfect, I think.

Happy KaBoom day. Tank is saluting me with one of his acrid green clouds so that I will not miss the smell of fireworks. SIGH. :o) Off to have a whiskey and spin something.