|Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
"I am an advertisement shot for a travel magazine - I am the person you wish you were on an October Saturday."
No rush at all, love, I'll pick it up on a play day...
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Monday, June 19, 2006 Take heart, take comfort, take rest or take a break. Take, indeed, anything you like from life - provided you don't take umbrage, offence or some pessimistic view of a developing situation. Why all this emphasis on taking and not on giving? Because there is something you need to accept, receive or come to terms with. You have a choice as to how you go about this. There is a temptation to argue and perceive a problem in the way things are shaping up. Resist this. Just embrace the good.
I just gotta love MrHoroscope. He’s nailed me, yet again. I have been turning my melancholy gaze at a situation, coloring it as bleak as it can possibly get and then weeping about it - metaphorically, that is. Like the old folk tale The Three Sillies, I’ve been predicting a future of misery and then thoroughly savoring all its pain. This is the Dark Side of Virgos, who tend to be both gloomy and psychic. We’re right so much of the time, if we ever start playing the gloom game we can blackwash the whole world.
Can one blackwash something - disguise reality with all bad thoughts, as one whitewashes away issues with a coat of lime and water? That’s the fun of language, isn’t it? So may ways of describing something. Btw, I gave the book Grammar Snobs are Great Big Meanies a quick glance last week. It came in a B & T shipment. I’m a sucker for word books anyway so I couldn’t help but be tempted by this title. Alas. I was disappointed in the first chapter because - let’s face it - this is a grammar book, written by a language columnist for some California paper (can’t remember now) and the author not only lambastes the arrogant strangers who love to write and correct her grammar, but also rips into several of her colleagues - most of whom are pretty mild chatter chastisers. Also, the first example she gives of her own writing, as viewed beneath the microscope, though it may be technically correct, is ugly. It’s a conversationally forgivable use of the word wrong as an adverb, as in: "He talks wrong", which Webster concedes, but which no one with any music in her soul would ever use in print. In speech we let the words tumble through the conversations so quickly nobody clings, with unhappy discomfort, to the clumsy, even ugly, choice. We make allowances for body language, any personal attachment we have for the speaker, the real connection we’re trying to make with this person. But in writing - ahh - well. The written word lingers and returns, lies about to remind you just how truly ugly it is. It engenders obsessions with the problem - how could something that looks like it would sound so wrong - or if you are like the 25% of us who actually hear the words we see - how could something that does sound so wrong be correct?
But while Ms Casagrande will not allow James Kilpatrick to stand upon the correct choice between which and that, she insists upon her right to use wrong in such an ugly way because....she is correct. She is a grammar snob herself. And that hypocrisy sort of put me off the book and I took it back to the library without reading any more chapters.
Because I am a Book Snob. My standards are not only high, but uniquely tailored to please me. Any author who violates one of my secret little taboos gets tossed across the room. Well. I don’t actually throw books across rooms. I have only done that once and I am not likely to do it again. But I do set aside any book that trips one of my wires and it is a rare thing for me to ever pick it up again.
So. Now you see yet another demonstration of the distractibility of the ENFP. Let us allow our minds to roam at will for there are too many topics to linger on a single one.
I am pleased to announce that I’m on the second half of the short row heel of my LL sock. It looks like the short row heel may not have holes along its join. I've decided that this time I shan't care, even if it does. I'm just pleased that this time I completely visualized what the short row heel should be doing, without having to read any instructions or even think about how to make one. This triumph is enough to offset any decorative eyelets along the heel seam. I am pretty sure there will be enough yarn to knit the other sock foot. I hope to put about 2 inches of ribbing on each foot before switching to the boucle. I figgure that yarn will have very little elasticity but I am imagining these socks with scrunchy looking cuffs. I just want enough grip to keep them from sliding down into my shoes.
I am even more pleased to tell you that I’m plying those first 2 bobbins of Romeldale. I’m quite happy with this yarn. The fiber was very neppy so the yarn has little bumps. I spun it woolen-ish to take advantage of the texture instead of trying to fight the neps. I also re-watched the Judith MacKenzie video. which I have yet to return to A (baaaad Bess), to sort of hone my plying knowledge before I began. I am always so inspired by her. Her hands are beautiful - pure poetry - they remind me of Meg Swanson’s hands, those magnificent hands which inspired me to learn continental knitting.
So - Thank You A - I promise I’ll return the video as soon as I find its box. . . somewhere in the stash heap.
I can’t wait to see how much the large plying bobbin holds. I filled the smaller bobbins almost to the max, but not so full that the yarn began slipping off. I used up just over one bag of the fiber. I have 4. They began life as 4 oz bags, but I know I’ve plucked bits and pieces from some of them over the years; sampling, trying to decide what I want to make, what the fiber wants to become. Still, I’m hoping to get about 1200 yards out of this fiber. Enough to make a fairly plain sweater. I spun and knit a little sample of it when I first bought it and saw at once that it will make a marvelous HugMe sweater. What is that? It’s the sweater you wear when you want to feel snuggled, protected, loved, cosseted. It’s a rustic sweater, a simple sweater, but strong, reliable, dependable. It’s the Boy Next Door sweater. I can already see myself wearing it on a crisp autumn day, with wheat colored corduroy jeans, on a long hike with BD down a country lane shaded by vividly hued hardwoods. I am an advertisement shot for a travel magazine - I am the person you wish you were on an October Saturday.
Hmm. That’s a lot from 2 bobbins of handspun.
Which only goes to show you that if you make it yourself you get so much more than just the product. You get all the imaginings and daydreams and flights of fancy as well! So may your week be filled with magical musings and successful actions. For that matter. My mine be, also. posted by Bess | 7:24 AM