A Wonderful Little Surprise

While I was watering the plants on my porch this morning, I noticed some activity in one of the hanging baskets. Just as I approached, a bird hurriedly flew away. I took a look and there, among the fern leaves and the fiddleheads, was a perfect little nest with several tiny blue eggs. The best thing was that the mother bird used some of the roving that I'd discarded to make her nest.

Glovely

After a few weeks of spinning, I've gotten enough yarn that I can make something. I purchased some combed top by Louet called "Pastels." At this point, the wheel is pretty much in charge of me and I accept what it gives me but I'm pretty happy with what I got. These are just simple little gloves, but I had such fun knitting them up. The wool is a two-ply that came out mostly fingering weight with some sport weight thrown in. Not perfect, but good enough for me.

Spinning My Brains Out

Never let it be said that I do anything half-assed. No sirree! If I'm going to do anything, I'm going to do it full-tilt, pedal-to-the-metal, boogie-till-you-puke and with both sides of my arse. So it is that, now that I've started spinning, not much else has been happening in my life--by design. My dear SIL is letting me use the spinning wheel that she bought when she was in college and I've been having the time of my life, spinning my brains out. Jack likes to keep me company and sometimes, when he thinks I'm treadling too fast, he lays on the top part of the treadle.

Here's some of the commercially dyed roving that I spun up recently, as well as some roving that I dyed using the dyeing skills I learned from rug hooking.

Holy Sheep and Wool! It's Ysolde!!

The highlight of my day at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival came while I was...drum roll...waiting in line for the bathroom. First, here's what I learned about the bathrooms at these things. Because the population is primarily female, there are ALWAYS lines at the ladies' rooms and to calm the unruly hoardes, many of the men's rooms are opened up to women. But you DON'T really want to stand in the line for those particular facilities (unless of course, you want to spend your time schmoozing in line. Don't get me wrong, this is definitely part of the Sheep and Wool experience, but I don't get up at the crack of dawn and drive for and hour and a half to do it.) Why? Because, nature being what it is, the guys get a choice between standing up and sitting down. Consequently, they have twice as many urinals and half as many toilets. No one wants to sit on a urinal, so we stand in line, three times longer. (The math seems counterintuitive, but trust me, I timed it.)

To get back to the story, there I am, standing in line with my daughter, discussing her current project, and silently praying to the Holy Mother of Bladder Control. A young lady goes walking by me in a grey lace cardigan and she stops to talk to Casey, aka. Code Monkey, from Ravelry. I know it embarasses Julie when I talk to strangers, but I have to know. "Excuse me, but your sweater...is that Liesl?" The young lady turns around and I see her face. I couldn't have been more overwhelmed if it had been Mick Jagger. "Oh, my gosh! You're Ysolde!" I stammered and she laughed. Yes, Virginia, it was the famous Ysolde Teague, one of my favorite knit designers, who'd come all the way from Edinburgh, Scotland, to attend the festival. And yes, the sweater she was wearing was Liesl and now I have to make it.

I apologize to Casey for using a photo of him with his eyes closed but the fact is, I took two photos and Ysolde has her eyes closed in the other one. Since she's the subject of the story, I picked this one. Besides, I've taken four or five pictures of Casey in the last two years and he almost always has his eyes closed.

Woolapalooza

For me, the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, always held on the first weekend in May, is like the begining of the New Knitting Year. I make my way through winter--which, I admit can be pretty mild--and then, as hints of spring begin to appear, I start to think of the a new year of knitting adventures. Last year, I decided that I wanted to try my hand at spinning, so I planned my day at the festival stalking the wild spindle in its native environment. I returned with a spindle from Bosworth's stall and a small stache of roving to spin.

This year, I tried something really different. I decided to experience the festival as a worker bee and found myself in the merchandise tent, bagging purchases for the many, many fair goers. I'd expected to be busy and I was but I was totally unprepared for the foot pain that I experienced after 3 hours of standing in one spot on a concrete floor.

Afterwards, I met up with my daughter and we wound our way through the barns. I always enjoy listening to Maggie Sansone's hammered dulcimer music, especially when she brings her Dancing Dogs--I'm always up at the front with the little kids and I think I enjoy those clogging canines as much as they do.


I got to play with a Woolee Winder on a Schacht Ladybug and it was divine. Only memories of paying for the new furnace kept me from saying, "Wrap it up, I'll take it."We also visited the Golding booth. Do people really spin on Golding wheels? Are they art or function? And what does one of those babies weigh anyway? I hardly think I'd be throwing one of them in the back of the Mini Cooper to buzz out to a spin-in. Besides, the thought of doing such a thing smacks of blasphemy!



I took in some more eye candy at Monica Leno' booth. I'd read about her hand painted spinning wheels in Spin Off magazine, but seeing them in person was an entirely different thing. I talked with Monica about her business, asking what it would cost if someone wanted to get their wheel "pimped out." She gave a little laugh, hesitated before she answered--I realized at that point that I'd never have to worry about it--and said that she chooses not to do consignments but prefers to sell the wheels she has already done. Where does she get her subjects? Out of the classifieds and from antique shops. Here are some of the exquisite wheels that she's rescued.

Birthday Week Revisited

I'm ashamed to admit that, in my excitement about the spinning weekend, I failed to report one of the most special events during my birthday week. On the day before my birthday, two of our most special friends, a couple we've known a very long time, came to visit.

Ross is a real diamond in the rough. We met when Paul and I moved into the same development where he and his young family lived. We called Ross, "The Mayor of Stonewood Court" because he spent his free time cruising the court, schmoozing with the neighbors. If there was something going on, Ross knew and had distinct opinions about it. Sometimes he was brash, sometimes a tiny bit crude, but most times, right on point. What we liked most was that we all shared the same kind of goofy, off-beat humor and we did a lot of laughing. At the same time, what we really didn't notice was that our families were not only growing up but that we were all growing up together.

In those early days, I took our relationship very lightly. It was during the hard times that I came to see what a gift his friendship really was. Once, when things were not going well, I confided my fears briefly to Ross and he did what he could. It was exactly what needed to be done. When serious illness came to our family, Ross was there waiting with us for the diagnosis, at the hospital after surgery, and praying for recovery. Afterwards, his relief at the return to health was palpable.

Nowadays, Ross and Kathy live in South Dakota and they send us a periodic newsletter that I call "The Snow Report." Two years ago, we planned a visit. Before we left home, one of our dogs fell ill and we were afraid to leave him in the kennel. Like true friends--or truly crazy friends--they extended the invitation to our two badly spoiled canines. The five of us, Paul, his motorcycle, Fozzie, Molly, and I, spent a wonderful week visiting with them in their new home. Riding around the Black Hills was spectacular but it was made perfect by the fact that we came home each evening to the warm company of our friends.

So, it was appropriate that these two were present last week and that it just happened to be my birthday. We spent the evening having dinner at a local restaurant and we found ourselves talking about the old times and the new. Of course, there was the mandatory reports of "what the kids are up to" and we got to see photos of the beautiful new granddaughter who was born last month. As we talked, I thought a great deal about all we four had been through and realized that it was no less than a family.

The next morning, after they spent the night on our street--in their RV--we said our goodbyes as Paul left for work. They departed for Vermont to visit son, Neal and his wife, Laurie. Goodbyes are supposed to be sad, at least, I think they are. But our goodbyes were not sad at all. Instead, they were joyous and celebratory. I felt extremely blessed to have such lifelong friends and glad to have had the opportunity to spend time with them again. Even more, they left and I was filled with hope that we'd all have a chance to do it all again.

Thanks, guys, for such a great birthday present!