Cue Music

Often when I write a journal entry, the blog or take a trip, I find a certain song running through my mind. When I went to Minneapolis for the Bohus Exhibition and workshops, it was Larry Norman's Fly, Fly, Fly. Today, it is the Pointer Sisters' I'm So Excited. I, of course, slightly skew it...

I'm So Excited! And I just can't hide it!

I'm about to attend the Nordic Museum Seattle's Knitting Conference and take lots of cool courses from stellar knitters and learn a lot, and I just can't hide it!

It might take a little work. In the meantime, I have the treasure hunt to firm up, more yarn to pack and errands to run. Who has time to cue the music?

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"The top is coming, and I can see myself going over it.

It's a combed top."

- me

Running Amok in the Nordic Museum

I'm so excited about attending the Seattle Nordic Museum's third Knitting Conference happening this weekend. I'm starting to not sleep well, and my hope is that, by the time it rolls around, I'll be so exhausted I'll sleep like a baby. Like a weaned baby that sleep through the night, that is.

Yesterday I was struck by, what I hope is, a flash of inspiration: a Treasure Hunt! Involve the attendees to discover more about the museum and its holdings, the attendees and teachers, and, most of all, have a blast! I have contacted Ellen from Twinset and Karin, one of the wonderful volunteer editors in Ravelry and Nordic Museum volunteer extraordinaire and asked for their input. There will be crazy questions and prizes for the respondee with the highest points, the person with the second highest points, and a random draw from all participants.

Rules:

All pictures must be taken from October 15.

Any treasure hunter kicked out of the conference will have their scores dismissed!

Here are some questions so far:

Signature of attendee from furthest away, and where they live

Signature of attendee who lives closest to the museum (by road, not as the crow flies), with their crossroads

Signature and age of oldest attendee

Signature and age of youngest attendee

Picture of someone spinning, and story of the fiber

Picture of anyone standing on their head (+20 pts. if presenter)

Picture of curator

Eat smoked salmon, fish of some kind, or drink absolut vodka during the conference

Picture of the flag of the Nordic country with which you feel most akin -- (+5pts. if you are included in the picture)

Talk someone out of a swatch (+20 pts. if presenter)

Signature of Charlotte -- museum worker and conference organizer. (+5 pts if she shows you pictures of her kids)

* KARIN, what other museum worker could be added here? *

What is (choose your presenter's??) favorite cast-on?

Have a serious conversation with someone about Lutefisk.

Measure the gauge of an "X" on a Norweigan sweater -- while the owner is wearing it. (thank you, Ellen!)

Find out the difference in pronunciation between the two a's in tvaandsstickning:

Get a picture of yourself with your favorite sweater at the conference

Get a picture of yourself with your favorite shawl at the conference

How did Ruth Soerensen make the snowflakes on her winter sweater?

Touch - - NOT IN AN EXHIBIT

Danish yarn

(Estonian yarn? -- how far does one stretch "Nordic?")

Faroese yarn

Finnish yarn

Iceland yarn

Norweigan yarn

Swedish yarn

Have Evelyn Clark teach you a word in Icelandic

What Bohus sweater(s) has Janet of Acorn Street Shop knit?

Get a new-to-you Sven and Ole joke:

Get someone to sing and entire national anthem to you from a Nordic country (*not da-da-da) (+20pts if presenter)

Have anyone sing an ABBA song

Any tips? Additional questions? Lobbying for one to be booted? What are thoughts on point weighing? Any of the presenters you know of have no sense of humor?

I'll sign off, hoping to sleep...

HAPPY CANADA DAY

To my friends in the True North, Strong and Free

Happy turkey day!

And to all in the States: Happy Columbus!

God's Grandeur

by Gerard Manley Hopkins*

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

*our subtitle: We went for a walk.

Quote of the day

From Knitpicks podcast episode 149. Allison and Kerin on Fiber Festivals.

"It's like you're immersed in your own flavor of nerd."

"Yes, exactly. And it's kind of flavored like -- lanolin."

Rumples**tskin, or a Tale of the Curse Reversed

I bought my first spindle at the Purple Purl in Toronto, June 14, 2008. It was World Wide Knit in Public day, I was at a "yarn tasting" event with my then-five-year-old daughter, and I had previously decided this was where I would take the plunge. Amy Singer, of Knitty fame, was running the tasting, and she very gladly pranced about spinning silk trying to show me how it worked. I bought it, hook, line and top whorl.

Fast forward four months. I was driving across Pennsylvania on highway 80 on the way to NYC. I was near the Poconos. SOAR, Spin-Off Autumn Retreat, just happened to be 5 miles away at a resort in the mountains. Then I got the Interweave Knits email: "Workshops and classes are full; but if you are in the area, you can attend the SOAR Market. "

Me and two kids parked. I grabbed my barely used spindle and made a sign. CAN'T SPIN. PLEASE HELP.

Nancy of Nancy's Knit Knacks pulled me aside. Another couple of very kind ladies let my youngest treadle their wheels, and then helped both of them felt balls. Fiber people -- I love you!

I bought lunch and trotted around from salad bar to salad bar trying to satisfy the ever-changing hunger of a 3 and 5 year old, then I went outside to a small playset and let the kids play. I sat on top of a picnic table and spun silk. It was beautiful and smooth. The whorl gently turned. The fiber did what it was supposed to. The October air was a touch crisp, but the sun was bright and mellow.

It was a set up.

I left and went to New Yorl I felt fairly confident I was on the right path, and continued to have fun with little fiber samples that the kind Amy Clarke Moore gave me. My daughter spun in Grand Central Station as we waited for a friend. All was positive and happy.

Then I went home. I dug down into the happy fiber bag and came up with some beautiful brown and forest green merino roving from Frabjuous Fibers and got it started drafting and attached to the, you know, sticky thing. By all intents and purposes, it should have been the start of a beautiful relationship, but instead all hell broke loose.

I spun that puppy to its completion, ending only a month ago after I broke my fourth reconnecting joint on a borrowed spinning wheel's footman, but I could tell even a year ago -- I was spinning, well, crap. Rumpelstilskin, the antagonist in the fairy tale of same name, had a wonderful gift. He could spin straw into gold, and in doing so, although he was a horrible ogre, saved a beautiful girl's life and promoted her to royalty. I, on the other hand, took perfectly beautiful merino and turned it into feces.

Today I am spinning with the most disgusting fiber. Were it plastic, it would be an old, marbled, school lunch tray. Were it a bowling ball, it would have gnarly, disgusting swirls. I think it was someone's carding experiment. A teacher must have said, "Listen! Everyone take a few different colors of dyed roving and card them together evenly!" The carder wasn't listening. It is a bad example of Canada's Ethnic Mosaic: pockets of people retaining ethnic diversity living harmoniously with other cultures side by side. Well, these colored roving bits are living side by side, but it is not a peaceful coexistence. The green wants to take over the group, the blue has a different consistency and demands being spun before the others (that is, it quickly slips into the draft before the other colors are taken up). Red is just hanging out. The black is natty and won't easily draft. The yellow roving hates the world and is full of a bitterness it is trying desperately to pass on to living creatures. All together? It should be a brown mass of, well, crap.

What is happening though?

I'm not sure about the color, but, my! I'm enjoying the gold!

You know you may be going too far when...

...you look at your friend's new dog and say to her son, "I bet his fur would spin really nicely!"

It's a compliment, really.

Spinning in Public

For a long time I have been an advocate for knitting in public.

It started in university, when I could not stand yet another class with Professor Valentin Boss. I loved, loved, loved him my first year. History of the Soviet Union was magic. The next year, The History of the Russian Intelligentsia was pretty darn interesting. But by the time I got to The History of Russia from Stalin to Gorbachev, I was done. Knitting a lopi stranded sweater was what got me through.

I positioned myself according to perceived prejudice and disapproval. I did all my reading beforehand, and I had my notebook and pen handy, but I didn't need them, or use them, as much as I had my other classes. My hands had to do something as my brain told me I had already heard this info several times previously.

I completed the sweater and gave it to my boyfriend who had just dumped me. Although we were no longer together, he did really appreciate the sweater and proceeded to wear it to Baffin Island on a medical rotation. That's the picture of the sweater on the island above.

I went on to knit a couple other sweaters during my final years of classes, and then on into graduate school. I usually knit when I had the felt need to do something productive, when the class was slow, when I already knew the material, or when I felt like scratching my eyeballs out. I almost always "hid" in the second row or further back, and didn't feel I needed to be taking many notes. It wasn't till graduate school that I felt I should ask permission, and I strongarmed the poor man into saying yes.

I never felt like a freak. I felt like a productive member of society.

I have knit in public many, many times since then. I have knit in airplanes, buses, trains, cars, and reclining bikes. I have knit in churches, nurseries, schools, and funerals. I have knit on field trips, in museums, and in aerobic classes. I always felt like I was enriching the lives of those around me. I rarely have people talk to me about it. I rarely see another person knitting.

Spinning is different. In the last week since I took the spindling class, I now feel confident as a drop spindler. I have taken the spindle on the road and spun at 3 cross country meets, a mall, and a Science Museum. I feel like a freak. People stare at me, and have no idea at all what I am doing. When I tell them, if they ask, they still don't understand, nor do they understand what I will do with the product when I am done. Only at the Science museum did one woman seem to "get it" and show enthusiam. My mother-in-law patently ignored what I was doing, never asked what it was or why I was walking around doing that.

Oh, well. Do others of you have this experience? Are there more spinners in other parts of the country, and so they don't encounter this? I can't ever remember seeing anyone else spindle, except at, maybe, a historical reenactment.

Any helps?

Spinning with Abby

#1 Daughter and I had a blast spinning with Abby Franquemont at The Trading Post in Pendleton, Indiana, Sunday September 26th. We boogied out of here about the same time she's ready for school on weekdays, drove a full two hours and arrived to...

Yes, that "Wa-Hoo!" face should have been worn by me, but she had fun as well!

While there, Abby worked on increasing our productivity. I was shocked to spin as well as I did, and although I did not show marked improvement in my yards per minute spun, I did manage the same amount of yarn in the same time on a bottom whorl spindle -- my first time spinning on one.

And when I got home I was inspired to sit and spin on the wheel another two skeins of lovely, lovely wool.

The spinning bug has got me!

Group Therapy

Today was the first meeting of a new knit group at the Argos Public Library with five ladies attending, plus myself. I arrived just in time.

My Plymouth pal, Chris, had notified me of a spinning wheel at a shop in her town on sale for $67.50. Chances were that it was crap, but, hey, that small possibility of what chance is all about! I went on up, crunching the time. A lovely, antique wheel of aged oak, it had no flyer/spool, so totally unable to make yarn. The single treadle turned the wheel just fine, though, and the mother-of-all was intact. Oh, well.

As a result of looking at the wheel, though, I was just barely making it to the group on time. As I raced up the stairs, the tornado siren went off. "I arrive with sirens!" I declared as I raced in.

The ladies were at various stages of knitting from never having lifted a set of needles, to working on a baby sweater. Several crochet and quilt as well. We meet next Friday, so I hope that takes off okay.

Then, I got to have lunch with my hubby bubby! What a strange feeling to be just the two of us. Again. Yesterday we went out to breakfast. Someday, it will just be the two of us. But there's lots of painfully embarrassing times with our kids in public before then.

Speaking of which, two of the kids and I are off to the Children's Museum in Indianapolis tonight for a special event.

Crepes for Dinner

The fun thing about crepes for dinner is when one hits the floor, you know what to say.

The homeless shelter was fun yesterday. I got to adopt my first grandchild. This happened right after I taught her to knit. Really, she was a knitter already; she just didn't know how to use the needles. She took to it like a duck to crochet -- pumped out four or five rows before I left, and her tension had evened out. I fully expect that next week she'll have a sizable amount done on a scarf.

She even recruited me to be a part of a fashion show the GED lady is putting on! I'll find out more about it...

One down...

Finished tacking down the binding last night! And cast on Eli's sweater. The back is now done, and I'm thinking through the cardi front.

Today I will be volunteering down at the homeless shelter. It's been too long.

Another Day, Another Quilt

Yesterday I opened the "In Progress" box, and unearthed a finished baby quilt top. Can you believe I quilted it? Today I put on the binding, and have tacked down a quarter of it.

Yesterday, Chris and I repaired the conrod jointer of the borrowed Ashford. I spun a bit this morning as well. Not sure if the joint is long enough, but time will tell.

Lastly, I got my first jar a Vegemite from a dear friend! All I need is another shrimp on the barbie!

Good times!

Back from the hunt... as yet, no kill

Michigan proved somewhat a bust -- in two ways.

I packed up the two little ones, well sedated with technology, and drove three hours to a garage sale. As we exited the highway, near the only civilization we would see for some time, I queried them as to bladder needs. "None, mother," they responded in perfect unison.

Apparently the bladder fills upon standing. We found the home, found their bathroom, went back outside and my kids proceeded to find everything else not nailed down. Somedays I feel like a sheepdog of humans.

The lady had a Baillie and Watts thirty year old Sleeping Beauty Serena. It is castle style and only had 2 bobbins. It ran nicely, but a little loose in the steering (i'm new at this!). But, I want to get a wheel that I want to keep -- not upsize or sell at a garage sale someday! So off we toddled to Friends of Wool shop in Holland, MI. Yesterday I went on their website. They sell Ashfords, and, I think another wheel. Turns out they don't stock them, though. If I wished to point to one in a book, they can order it for me. Yeah. First bust.

I did manage to purchase some lovely British (pure, new) wool there, though. Smells lovely, and it wants to be mitts.

Then we went down M40 to Allegan and ate at the Village Inn. Lovely grease. We washed our hands and headed over to fondle roving at Baker's Studio in downtown Allegan. The lady there stocked and sold Schachts and Kromskis. I listened to what she had to say and spun on three wheels twice.

I like double treadles. I like nice wood. The Schacht seemed more substantial, and so, that's what I came away with on my new, updated, improved and more expensive wish list.

Gulp. That's the second bust: on my wallet -- someday.

I didn't have the camera with me, so let's add at least one knitting pic. This is a picture of the Twined Sampler Hat I'm developing.

SPINNING MY WHEELS

I would love to start writing on this thing, so the way to do it, is to do it.

Today I go to Michigan to look for a spinning wheel. I take the two youngest with me, and the plan is to bring them back. No swapping them for the wheel.

My first stop is a GARAGE SALE that is only advertising WHEELS and YARN. Wow.

Next stop is a shop that deals Ashford and something else, and the third stop is a shop that has the Kromski Sonata, that I chose from the pile of puppies at the Michigan Fiber Fest. Beautiful wood, double treadle, spun nicely... I was so tired after being awoken by small child at 4, driving 2 1/2 hours and having an all day class, though, that I wasn't relishing being with the variety of wheels.

Now I am.

Just found out a builder's magazine is coming over in 1 1/2 days to take pictures of our front rooms. Well! I guess I have tomorrow decided for me!

Rip van Winkle:  Waking from a long sleep...

WOW! I have finally managed to break into my own blog.  I can imagine it would be easier for others to do...

Woke up at 3 with a warm 3-year old body pressed against my back.  I transfered him to his bed and an hour later gave in to wakefulness.  Sigh.

It's nice to catch up with several people on the web though.

We are having quite a time building our first house together. What a nightmare -- but a nice one. It's sort of like moving. again. but only over 7 months. at the end of which we get to move.

But it will be a beautiful home. I remind myself of that, as I wish it were smaller. But what does small or large matter? What is important is the open hands before God. Will I be open and giving with my home? I want it to be a place missionaries, friends and family can sack out. I want it to be a place of refuge with nooks to hide in. I want it to be a place the kids can have friends over and be safe.

It needs to have longevity -- for young family, teens, grandparents.

Only this can be accomplished with God.

Ricketts in Action

Help! How do I post again???
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Ricketts in Action