Category Archives: Diary

What I Have Today That You Do Not

Courtesy of yesterday’s mail:

1. The spinner’s lap cloth I won from Phat Fiber! The one that’s dark on one side and light on the other so you can use whichever side provides better contrast depending on what colour fibre you’re spinning. And pockets on each end, that you can access from whichever side you’re using. Brilliant. The parts that aren’t dark brown or white (in other words, the border and the pockets) are made from a kind of minty turquoise paisley, which does not match my office at all, or indeed anything I own. I don’t care.

2. An advance reading copy of Emily (The Pirate Queen) Horner’s first published book, A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend, due out from the Penguin Group in June 2010. Montreal NaNo participants circa 2002-ish will remember her as Emily The Pirate Queen; I remember her fondly as my personal nemesis. And I am so freaking proud of her.

I also have a deadline. But you may have one of those, too.

Weekend Roundup

Saturday morning we went out to the la Co-op la Maison Verte store in NDG to pick up gifts for a baby shower. It was snowing, and the boy put on his sunglasses and “snowboarded” down the sidewalks. He looked great, had a tonne of fun, and it really amused me. After lunch the boy and I packed up, picked up a new friend (yay!) and her adorable baby boy, and headed out to the West Island for Miranda’s baby shower. It was terrific to see Debra again (and she hosted a lovely party indeed), and to see Tamu and Phil, neither of whom I had expected to see. (No, I didn’t think about what other guests might logically be there; you may laugh at me.) The boy was very shy and clingy, and spent a lot of time hiding behind me or cuddling me. We gave Tamu a lift back to the metro so she could stay a bit longer, so it was a full car on the way home what with three grown women, a boy, and a six-month-old baby, which was a lot of fun.

Sunday morning I made big pancake breakfast, then realised I didn’t have the energy to go out and do the groceries. So HRH went alone, bless him, and I dozed in a chair while the boy played. When HRH got home I dragged myself to bed and had a two-hour nap.

Once awake again I made lunch, then made peanut butter-chocolate brownies from the Martha Stewart’s Cookies book, and hmm; her recipes are usually great, but this one wasn’t quite right. I substituted cocoa for the chocolate (I usuallly do this, because it’s less expensive) and cut a bit of the sugar comme d’habitude, but next time I’ll use less cocoa, a tad more sugar, and make twice as much peanut butter filling! Then I made hasty chocolate pudding, because I had promised the boy a few days earlier that we’d make pudding for the first time. The boy made it with me, stirring ingredients together and pressing the buttons on the microwave to cook it. (Recipe review: Pretty good for six-minute pudding. I halved the recipe, used brown sugar, added a tablespoonful of butter with the vanilla, and it was great. Next time, I’m cutting a bit of the cocoa, though, and I can’t believe I said that. And it really needs whipped cream to balance the chocolate. Although it occurs to me that a peanut butter swirl through it would be amazing. Hmm.) Then I puttered while the boy napped and HRH briefly went over to his parents’ house.

My monthly group cello lesson later that afternoon was great; we had a new student there, and did some good work on the Corelli. I’m having a stupid time counting, for some reason; I got lost in the middle of everything that I wasn’t playing the first cello line for (I’m fine with first and whatever the bottom line is, but I’m wobbly on the middle voices because I’m not sure how the harmonies are supposed to move or sound like yet). Despite this, our first read-through of Joplin’s “The Entertainer” went pretty well. We sight-read a new piece, “Soldier’s Joy,” that will be paired with “The Ashokan Farewell,” as well as getting the official new music for our quartets and trios. I really enjoy my group lessons, and I wish we could do them more often, although I know they’re a tonne of work for my teacher and the scheduling is enough of a nightmare.

Here’s some pictures of the plied Coopworth I spun up on Friday. The colour on the top photo is more accurate.

That’s 191 yards of nice, springy, lofty, woollen-spun yarn made from 4 oz of chocolate Coopworth roving (real roving, not misnamed combed top), two-ply, 11 wpi.

More Coopworth — And This Is Not A Bad Thing

Well, after I handed in that freelance assignment yesterday I was so fried that I decided I wasn’t good for much more than watching the new spinning DVD I got last week, Abby Franquemont’s Drafting: The Long and Short of It. And watching her demonstrate long draw with Coopworth — the very same commercially prepared Coopworth I’d struggled with, in fact, with all the neps and VM — was like an epiphany. The Coopworth was prepared differently. It’s not smooth combed top like the BFL and Corriedale. It’s actual roving: carded, not combed. Which means the fibers aren’t perfectly aligned; they’re every which way.

Aha.

I spin pretty things, but the fine details do still escape me, because, well, six months of experience isn’t a heck of a lot in the grand scheme of the universe. And most of that experience lies with commercially prepared combed top.

Still being a rookie, this different prep was something I didn’t consciously notice. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did notice. But what I noticed was that it was different, that it didn’t draft smoothly the way the other fibres I’d worked with did, it didn’t break off evenly when I pulled it apart like combed top does (that should have been the real giveaway, and I missed it) and that the single I spun with it was springy, not drapey and smooth. What I didn’t figure out as a result of observing all these things was that a long draw would be better for this type of preparation. I didn’t know it was carded instead of combed; if I had, I might have better understood why it was in the state it was.

I was so struck by the ease with which Abby was throwing the Coopworth around that I decided to pull out my wheel and that other bag of dark Coopworth that had come with my wheel to see if I could approximate it. This bag does, in fact, identify the contents as ‘carded wool roving.’ Note to self: Read the damn label next time. (Although in my defense, the first Coopworth was not identified thusly; I just checked. All it said on the label was ‘light brown Coopworth.’) Abby didn’t split or predraft; she just grabbed a length of the roving and started spinning from it. So I found an end, pulled it out of the bag a bit, and started spinning long draw.

And it worked. Oh, glory be, it worked. The Coopworth practically leapt into a finer woollen-spun single without catching, or digging its heels in, or arguing with me. The drafting zone travelled back and forth across the end of the roving evenly. I got a nice swoopy long draw backwards arm throw happening, pinching off the twist by the orifice with the other hand to give the forming single an extra steady pull to smooth out lumps and bumps, and it was glorious. Occasionally I double-drafted to get rid of slubs that wouldn’t straighten with the regular gentle pull.

I spun up two ounces in about an hour and they made lovely lofty 18 wpi singles. I’ll spin up another two ounces today and ply them together. [ETA: Pictures here.]

I figured out the Coopworth. I feel mighty. Thank you, Abby.

I can’t remember if I tried spinning it woollen with a long draw before or not (my notes are unclear) but I know I kept returning to the short draw for worsted, struggling with it to try to make it work. No wonder my six ounces of Coopworth only made 133 yards of very heavy thick and thin single. (In worsted spinning you squish all the air out of the yarn and try to make the fibres align and lie flat, making it smoother and denser; in woollen-spun yarn there’s a lot of air trapped between the fibres that are lying in all different directions, so the yarn is airier and fluffier. It’s what makes woollen sweaters so very warm but light enough to wear.) The single will be great for knitting something that’s destined to be felted, or something small and very warm like mittens, but I’d hate a sweater out of it; you’d be exhausted after wearing it for an hour. (Not that I have enough with which to knit a sweater. 133 yards doesn’t go very far.)

The DVD was very helpful. I was moderately concerned about how much I’d get out of it over the long term after watching it once, but it was on sale, and I’m so glad I bought it. I’ll be watching it every once in a while to remind myself of little things. I learned about woollen joins, for example. I got to watch her use both a Louet S10 (which is what my wheel essentially is) and a Julia wheel. All the fibre she used was Louet fibre, as the video was sponsored by Louet, so I know most of what she was working with and can now apply specific techniques to it. Just watching her hands, her treadling, and her posture was illuminating.

And this is what one doesn’t get when one takes a hobby up alone. If there isn’t a community with whom you can regularly interact in person, you don’t necessarily pick certain things up. You reinvent the wheel, so to speak, by reading books and experimenting on your own and talking to people online. But my spinning 102 class was the first time I’d sat down with other spinners since I tested the wheel at my LYS last summer, and I reinforced a lot of what I do by watching how the others handled their fibre and wheels. Curiously, yesterday Bonnie told me she’d attended the annual Chesterville spin-in this week and invited me along for next year’s session, and I’d already agreed. It’s a one-day event with a vendor’s area (dangerous!), and she said there were about fifty people all spinning together in one room. I can only imagine the kind of tips and tricks you could pick up just by watching the people around you. I’d love to attend something like SOAR, but financially (and probably fibro-wise) that’s impossible. The idea of being with hundreds of people I don’t know in a place I’m unfamiliar with is also enough to put me off the enterprise: I can’t even muster up the courage to contact the local weaver’s guild to see if they have spinners who meet regularly (although part of that comes from familiarity with how unintentionally grasping and overly eager guilds and small groups can be when presented with new blood, although I hasten to add that I have never met anyone of the local guild and so I might be completely wrong in this instance).

In the meantime, though, I have another video to inspire me: Maggie Casey’s two-DVD set Start Spinning. And next on my list will be Judith McKenzie’s newly released Popular Wheel Mechanics, although I won’t be able to order that till summertime.

Also, in somewhat unrelated news, if I ever get a Saxony, I suspect it may be the Kromski Symphony. I won’t know that until I’ve tried it (and that may be difficult as the closest Kromski rep is two hours away), but it’s said that the Symphony is comparable to the Schacht-Reeves Saxony wheels and it’s much less expensive. That’s miles down the road, though, if ever. And since I’m dreaming in brilliant colour, here, I would like the walnut model.

The Thing Is…

… if you stick with something long enough, the bad parts usually get better.

Yes, orchestra rocked. Why would I drop something that challenges and rewards me? When it’s going badly it’s bad, but when it works, when everything comes together, it’s glorious. And I wouldn’t give that up.

Besides, Butterworth’s “The Banks of Green Willow” alone makes up for any frustration. (Including the frustrating passage of stormy strings a third of the way through where everything sounds like it’s falling apart, but is actually building before the absolutely gorgeous climax.) I’ve played some very pretty things, but I find this piece absolutely spectacular and it gets me every time. The transition in the middle is throat-clenchingly exquisite, and then the arrangement of the folk song at the end (the same one that Vaughn Williams used as the second movement of his Folk Song Suite, “The Bonny Boy”; Butterworth and Vaughn Williams were both interested in English folk songs, and Butterworth worked with Cecil Sharp to collect them) is gentle and ethereally beautiful in its simplicity.

I loved this piece even before I found out that Butterworth was killed in the First World War, after destroying the music he though unworthy of survival should he not return. His remaining catalogue is slim, and you can’t help but wonder what he destroyed, and what he might have composed had he lived through the war. Knowing it’s one of the few pieces that survived makes it all the more precious.

One Step Forward, One Step Back

After a severe setback yesterday wherein I lost most of the day to researching ways to embed fonts on a Mac, and then finding that using Open Office to make a PDF had resulted in borking my document (it was supposed to make things easier!), I finally finished the cello manual layout and proofing today.

It’s been a really fun six weeks, taking a text document and doing a basic layout, then a copyedit, then the endless tweaking that happens when two people trade a document back and forth once a week for a while. Some of that tweaking was to condense the layout; some fixed things that became problematic; some involved adding material; some fixed errors that popped up thanks to the document format. Still, six weeks from plain text to a finished PDF ready for printing is a really good timeline for two busy people. (I come from a publishing world where three to six months for all this is the norm!) I’m crossing my fingers that there aren’t any problems with the printing process. (That’s what all the PDF and font-embedding strife was about. It was a whole thing.)

And today, apart from finishing the book PDF, I managed to wipe myself out having a shower, scrubbing the bathroom, doing yoga, and wet-finished 133 yards of spun thick and thing Coopworth single. (Only 133 yards? I am so cranky about this. It was so interminable that I’m sure there ought to be more. It weighs 6 oz, for heaven’s sake.) The fibro is really in my bad books these days. It would help if it gave me some sort of warning sign instead of just handing me a tonne of fatigue and pain all at once when everything seems to be going well. The boy’s monthly update is still late, of course, because I need time to think about it and find pictures and fit it all in between paying work and recovery time from the fibro hitting me when I’m down.

I have a freelance project due on Friday that I really wanted done earlier this week, but PDFs and fibro are messing that up. I have orchestra tonight, and I fully expect to perform horribly despite practising this week. It occurred to me that I might discuss dropping orchestra with my teacher. Or taking a break. It’s been a really tough winter for me in a lot of ways, and orchestra’s getting trounced in my priority list. I love this new conductor, and I love the music, but I just can’t handle it capably. I know the rest of the section feels the same way, though, so I suspect I’m overreacting in a maudlin self-defeatist fashion borne of fatigue. Still; I really don’t want to drop it, but I feel so stressed about it that I don’t know if the tradeoff is worth it.

Time for winter to be over, I think. The cold and damp is really bothering the fibro.

Weekend Roundup

Saturday afternoon was our monthly Random Colour crafting meeting, sans Phnee, alas, as the RCMP rearranged her work schedule thanks to the Olympics. HRH and the boy visited with Scott while Ceri and I headed out to Vaudreuil, and the boy packed every single one of this Star Wars toys for the occasion (including the new TIE fighter from MLG’s stash o’ Star Wars toys we have squirrelled away in the basement to produce at various intervals.) At our monthly crafting meet we all got to show off what we’ve been doing lately, which is always fun, and Karine made me a lovely illusion necklace the likes of which I have been coveting for over a year. While there I spun a bunch more of the neppy, snaggly Coopworth; I just want it gone.

I took Ceri home and we enjoyed some light pre-dinner entertainment as provided by the boy, who directed us in making various animal noises from the next room, saying, “Cut, cut, cut” with great sorrow when we did it wrong. We spent a good hour laughing ourselves silly; it was so much fun. Dinner was an incredibly delicious slow-cooked ham done with brown sugar, accompanied by mashed potatoes, and instead of choosing one or two vegetables to cook there was a raw veggie platter with dip to go with it all, which was a fabulous idea. We grazed before dinner and feasted once sitting down on carrots, peppers, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, and broccoli. To which the boy exclaimed, “Mmm, broccoli, I love broccoli!” but then handed me his pieces quietly after biting into one, saying, “I forgot, I don’t like broccoli.” He loved the look of the cherry tomatoes but once again didn’t like them when he tasted them.

Sunday morning we went out to the bookstore. This was supposed to be a Mama+boy trip, but Mama was pretty wiped from a heavy work week and a bad fibro week on top of that, so HRH came along to drive and offer moral support. The boy had a Valentine gift certificate from his Nana to spend, and he chose a train and a book. Then we meandered over to the pet shop to look at the animals, and after that the boy and I directed HRH to a little shop in Dorval where we bought his birthday present, a tuner for his bass (because he was borrowing my tuner, and that was just going to end in tears someday when it got lost or left behind or broken). We had a slightly late lunch and the boy resisted a nap, falling asleep late and waking up earlier than he needed, which meant he was all out of sorts when we sat down to make a Valentine for his local grandparents. We finally got it done, and the boy sad he wanted more rest, so we compromised by taking a quiet movie to his grandparents’ house.

HRH’s birthday dinner was ribs from the Bar-B-Barn, followed by an almond chocolate cake. The boy decided that we had to hide under or behind the table and jump out saying “Surprise!” when HRH came back into the kitchen for dessert, which was terribly amusing.

A very full weekend, although it doesn’t seem like it when typed out.

Fleece Artist Final Skein

My lovely, lovely yarn, let me show you it:

20wpi
128 yards
heavy lace/light fingering weight
chain-plied
Fleece Artist Blue Faced Leicester fibre

(Go on, click View Image to see it in all its lovely, even beauty. And now that it’s all spun and plied, I am fairly certain that it is the Red Fox colourway, which amuses me terribly.)

HRH and I are in love with this colourway. I’m going to keep my eyes open for more, because four ounces doesn’t get you far if you want to actually knit something.