Spinning is good

Rhetorical question: Why does the usually stand-offish Annabelle need to have an up-close and personal conversation with me the minute I sit down at the computer? Anyone? I love her to pieces, I do.

As I was about to say: spinning is very, very good. It makes an ugly work week so much more beautiful. It makes it possible for me to take the delayed, incorrect, or missing shipments; the customers with ice cream (yes, that "No Food" sign does include ice cream, and it does apply to you); the burned-out, crabby, and frequently tardy staff; and the relentlessly hot, humid weather. In short, spinning makes just about anything possible right now.

I plied what I've spun so far, and ended up with a perfect 200 yards. I want to squeeze it, cuddle it, pet it. This yarn is not stand-offish, not one bit. So there, Miss Cat. [Oh, I still love you the best, because you have never ever needed to have an up-close and personal conversation with me while I am knitting. Or spinning.]

I think this yarn will become a scarf, maybe like this one. The photo doesn't give you much, though. I want it to be something lacey, but with some structure. If I get a lot of yardage out of the ten ounces of fiber I have, then maybe I'll make something larger.

I found the pattern through a wonderful blog I came across, Spider Woman Knits. I like her stuff, and I like her style.

Enough of this spinning and goofing off. It's time to get out into the sunny day and do some day off, errandy things. I think it's a peach smoothie kind of day, too.

Reunion

My dear old friend has come through for me again. A good dusting, some polishing, and a little tightening. A fresh, new drive band. A little extra attention to the spot where a spider left its calling card (how appropriate, eh?). Assemble the tools. Where is the beaded orifice hook? The Navajo sheep that must hang from the tension screw? What about the lazy kate, not to mention all the bobbins? Ah, there they are, not lost after all.

The fiber: Baby Cotswold, first. Good, but our conversation isn't going anywhere. Next, the carded batt from Tintagel Farm, all the colors of Autumn. We are in a deep discussion in no time. We understand each other perfectly.

Deep breaths, quiet rhythm, draw and let the twist travel. Settle, relax. Everything is as it should be.

So much for the plan

There's something new on my knitting radar: Eris. Oh, it's making its way all around my Internet. There are blips at KR, whispers on blogs, a knitalong started by the fiendish Purlewe (She claims to understand the anguish caused by my Pile of Knitting, but what does she do? She starts up a knitalong for a sweater I must make, even though I have no business adding to the PoK).

Seriously, this sweater is the perfect challenge for me. I enjoyed knitting Elspeth Lavold's Herdis last year, and I'm working on a pretty simple pullover (the Fabuolus Manos Wildflower, etc.), so I'm looking forward to tackling a complicated pattern. It follows the path my knitting has been taking in the past year or so. I see challenges in using techniques I already know -- cables (I even like the complicated ones), raglan shaping -- with elements that are not as familiar -- short row shaping (except for socks, I've never really fooled with short rows), zippers (if I decide to make the cardigan version, that is). I'm not shopping for the yarn yet, though. There's far too much going on in my world. But knowing that I have Eris to look forward to makes me smile.

This picture is for Vi, who thinks it's high time I posted my progress on this scarf. This is the first half, and I'm knitting away on the second half now. I'm quite pleased with it, even in its unblocked, unfinished state. I'd be finished already, if I hadn't made a gruesome discovery last week: a misplaced yarn-over right in the center of the central motif. Not acceptable. Even less acceptable was the way the edges would not look nice, no matter what I did to tighten them up. So I just picked up another ball of yarn and moved on. The edges are garter stitch this time around, and all the yo's are where they belong, and I am much happier.

I don't hesitate to frog my hard work. If starting over is the best way to finish something, then that's what I do. If I find a teensy mistake, something that nobody but me will ever see, or one that doesn't affect the results at all, then I leave it alone. I fix what I can, and keep knitting.

I'm still pondering the Great Question: Why I Don't Spin. The answer won't matter before long. I've been a spinner longer than I've been a knitter, but not as long as I've been a weaver. [Can I still call myself a weaver? I can if I want to.] I set the wheel aside to make room for the many changes my life was experiencing, but it has never left my side. It waits, it knows I haven't stopped being a spinner, and it will be ready when I am. I love my spinning wheel, love it in the way one loves a dear old friend whose shoulder is always available, and whose confidence is the safest place in the world. Nothing is stopping me from seeking solace there, nothing emotional or fearful or whatever-ful. I haven't put it away from my sight, or sold all my wool, or stored the bobbins and oil. Knitting has been my passion for the past few years, and there has been strength and comfort to be found there, too. I would not be This Jane without the knitting, without its daily presence, without the challenges and accomplishments it's provided. Now there might be spinning to be done, because I happen to have a bag of some beautiful wool that I bought at Rhinebeck two (or three?) years ago, "just in case." We know what that means, don't we?

Now on with the day off. It's hot as blazes and I have errands to do. And knitting. And what's that noise? Something is whispering from the corner by the bed. "Psst, Jane, come on over here. Just put your foot right there, flex your ankle. Nice, eh? That's right, you know how..."

After the reckoning, a plan

It's hard to believe that it's almost August! Before long the summer will be over, and life will begin to calm down a little bit. It's time to look ahead to cooler weather, to sweater wearing (and more sweater knitting), to Rhinebeck and the KR Retreat. I need to keep my eye on these prizes, so that the rest of my brain can concentrate on what is at hand: intense work, longer hours, and a tired, tired self, for another month at least.

Then I will be able to unwind, breathe deeply, and best of all, stop having to think so hard! Sometimes I remind myself of the Scarecrow in "Wizard of Oz", with his furrowed brow and finger to his temple. I really don't spend every waking or sleeping hour in a tight knot, unable to take a breath and enjoy my life. I do exist outside of work. But in the summer, when it seems that everyone else is taking time off, or at least has a little more free time, my life is so full that I must schedule time to relax.

I know that many people do just that all the time, that it's not so unusual. But I know myself well. I'll "forget" to take time for myself, and give it all to my job, unless I make a conscious effort to add that time to my plan for the day. They make fun of me at work when I say that I'm going to go home early, because they all know that I'll be found wandering around an hour or so later, in a stupor, reciting purchase order numbers and cursing the inventory system.

So these thoughts, and the reckoning I made the other day, and the fact that I am tired of being cranky, and what Purlewe had to say on the subject (her definitions are the best!) are leading me in the direction I want to go. All my unfinished and half-started knitting projects, and the closed watercolor palette and dusty brushes, are telling me to stop and choose something. Anything. Settle down, go deeper, find a focus. Knit because yarn through fingers and over needles feels so good and satisfying. Paint because touching the loaded brush to the paper releases joyous, beautiful color. Proceed, Jane.

I signed up for the KR Retreat the minute Clara posted this week's newsletter. I know what time away, doing something I love with other people who love it too, means for my soul. I can't go paint watercolors in Italy this year, or even get to South Carolina for an Art by the Sea retreat, but I can paint right here in my own back yard. (hmm, I might do that today). I can do this new knitting thing in Virginia in November, too, and all the planning and imagining and anticipating will carry me over any rough roads that might be ahead.

And who knows -- I might even dust off and oil up the wheel, my sweet old Ashford. It's been whispering its own version of a Siren Song. I've also been thinking about Why I Don't Spin. Yes, I do know I think too much. My friend K, who just started knitting again after a long break, says he knows that if he starts spinning again right now he won't want to do anything else. He learned to spin at my house, so I know he's right. He's an amazing knitter and spinner, but if he has to choose one thing at this moment in his life, knitting is the right one. I am trying to apply that thinking to my own situation. I want to do some of everything, but I know it's just impossible. Here I go.

And I have blueberries for fuel.