Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Sunday, July 13, 2003 My strips of roving are lovely puffy wads of fiber now, colorful and soft. And while still bright, they are not screaming their colors at you. Fortunately, the spinning and knitting process blurs a lot of the noise these colors bombard you with. I used up the last of the gas in the propane tank beneath the grill and had to finish up the last steambath on the kitchen stove. I’m trying very hard to keep all dye stuff out of the kitchen, with some success. BigDarling tried to pilfer one of the measuring cups stored beneath the wooden bench but I swiftly changed his mind. Besides, we have 3 measuring cups in the kitchen, not counting all the plastic ones. In the Twisted Sister Sock Workbook the author recommends mixing up your dye stock solution at 2 tsp. per quart of water, which I did. At my dye workshop in May, Barbara Gentry recommended mixing it up at 1 tsp. per quart. In the end, it probably doesn’t matter - one gets used to what one works with - but I find I’m a little too generous with my stock solution and end up with lots of color to throw away. I believe, the next time I mix up solutions I’ll follow BG’s advice and see if I can tone down the colors. Even the BOLD colors I used yesterday required formulas like 7 parts water, 1 part cool yellow and 1/8 part warm red. Sheesh! That’s a whole lot of water. And the tiny bit of my virgo nature that catalogs and categorizes things has already begun to nag the rest of my laziness about making color charts. And exact formulas - and colorway cards. Trouble with me is that I love the idea of tidy categories much more than I like the practice of making them. I need a secretary. Whenever I’m around people who put things away neatly and know where stuff is, my body seems to sigh into a relaxed state of admiration. But if you saw my house! Oh lord. I have this horrible habit of just putting stuff down. For years I could remember where I put things, because I am not much of a daydreamer. Mostly I live in the here-and-now present, so it’s easy to stay on top of my world. Unfortunately, as the brain has been packed with info-bits, like some decrepit and outmoded database, my ability to remember trivial details, (like where are my glasses?) has diminished greatly. Also, I used to have to do 100% of the housework around here. In Bess’ Theory of Cleaning it says somewhere that the person who cleans the house knows where everything is. But there’s a caveat to that - you have to own the house you are cleaning in order for the theory to hold true. If someone else is cleaning said house, she won’t know what is important and what is not. She won’t know that AnOther was complaining last Tuesday about not being able to find a measuring cup, so she won’t know to put it in the cabinet with the sugar canister, but instead, will put it with the mixing bowls. After all, she isn’t going to hear the complaints about not having any measuring cups and what sort of kitchen is it that doesn’t have measuring cups and why is there a glass measuring cup on the cement porch floor under the bench anyway? Of course, the most important part of Bess’ Theory of Cleaning is the part about finding someone else - anyone else - to do it. And of course I am exaggerating this like Erma Bombec did for literary purposes. And when I stoop to pillorying someone merely for the purpose of art, it is time to shut up and go do something else - like washing that corriadale fleece. Good knitting to you all today. posted by Bess | 7:40 AM |
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