In Which She Natters About Everything For A Bit

Oh, Mr. Mailman, you do love me. I was beginning to think you didn’t care. I know I don’t order stuff any more — I’m not writing a contracted book and so I’m not ordering used books I can’t get through the library, and I don’t have the money to buy fun stuff. But today you brought me a little freelance cheque. This was a pleasant thing to offset no mail at all this week so far. That was sad. Although no mail means no bills, so there is an up side to it all.

My current freelance assignment is going swimmingly. It all flows and mostly lacks spelling and grammar errors. It’s refreshing to be able to read a story that hangs together with well-written characters and dialogue. The last little sixty-page one that was supposed to be easy after the four-hundred page disaster ended up being just as much of a disaster, as it wasn’t even an outline. It’s really, really hard to supportively review something that essentially isn’t there.

Because work was going so well yesterday I had the opportunity to knit the boy a hat. This was supposed to be a Yule gift, but we discovered yesterday morning that he has no hats that fit him beyond his ball caps, so it got a bit more critical. I knitted the whole thing before he got home, tried it on him to size and place (somewhat, er, freeform) earflaps, and he fell in love with it. He kept thanking me and running to look at himself in the mirror. What I haven’t told him is that I found an excellent web site that turns pictures into knitting charts, and I had planned to double-stitch the Autobot symbol on the front for him before I gave it to him. As he has absconded with the thing, I shall stitch it Friday night after he’s in bed, and leave it for him to find Saturday morning.

Orchestra was good last night. At least, it sucked less that it had for the past three weeks, so things must be better. I still need to work on some of the Beethoven trouble spots. Some I have down, others I don’t (which is an incredibly helpful statement, I know). We got to play the Schubert, which was nice because I could play it with no trouble even without practice, and we sight-read the first movement of the second Weber clarinet concerto (well, it shouldn’t have been sight-reading, because I’ve had it for two weeks) and that wasn’t as much of a disaster as it could have been once I remembered that we were in E flat major. It always sounds so wrong until you hear everyone else playing.

Today is laundry and bread-baking (both already on; the freelance work-at-home life is such a glamorous one), and then when I’ve polished my report on this latest ms. I’m going to finish spinning the singles for the wrap. I have about a half-ounce of fibre left, and I’m so close to being done. Of course then I get to ply it, which is another kettle of fish entirely. I discovered last week that I need a second swift, because having a skeinwinder is all well and good, but once you’ve washed a skein you need to unwind it and wind it on again to measure the length properly. The good news is I can build one with jumbo TinkerToys, so I don’t need to buy one. (Now we just need to find the TinkerToys and convince the boy it’s Not To Play With once it’s built; he can have the bits I don’t use. Or, you know, I could ask the husband to knock one together in his copious spare time at work. Along with those extra bobbins.)

Actually, I’ve been wondering if I can’t use the old textile mill quill-style pirn bobbins for storage of singles and plying, assuming I can get a bunch of the inexpensively at flea markets or some such place. I know the holes don’t go very deep, but HRH could drill them a bit deeper. The trick would be winding the singles onto the quill bobbins, but if one located an old manual bobbin-winder, one could do it. Theoretically. (Oh, look, they make new ones, but good grief they’re expensive, even the manual ones. Wow. And new storage bobbins, too, but those are much less fun. )

Which brings me to the discovery that the great wheel my mum owned for years and recently placed in Ceri’s sunroom was retrofitted to be a bobbin-winder. The spindle doesn’t extend out to spin off the tip; it’s been hacked so that it lifts out of the brackets to enable a bobbin to be slipped on, and the drive band runs the spindle/bobbin combo to wind yarn on. Apparently it isn’t uncommon for great/walking wheels to be kitbashed in this way. Gods, I love the Internet. People can share so much information.

Right. On to that work thing. After another load of laundry and punching down the bread.

Weekend Roundup, Thanksgiving Edition

Friday night I had a good cello lesson. We cleared up some fingerings in the Beethoven symphony, then I said I wanted to work on recital stuff instead of my lesson stuff. I’d been playing on Thursday night with the practice mute (a good hour and a quarter of practice, hurrah, although it meant I didn’t sleep well) and was struggling with making an Air by Bach sound properly smooth, and I’d worked on the Mozart duet and Ashokan Farewell too. I also finally said I needed to walk away from the Berceuse, because I was fighting it so much that it was causing more problems that it was solving. My teacher said that leaving it wasn’t a problem; we’d revisit it later. Although, she added, I’d been making progress on it, even though I couldn’t tell. The Mozart duet had good parts in it, and I have notes to help me focus on string crossings and smoother shifts. We worked out better fingerings for the Bach that made it so much easier, so I’m feeling better about that too. I don’t feel as overwhelmed by it all any more.

Saturday morning I took the boy out to run errands with me. We dropped some books off at the Melange and bought two candles, one for Thanksgiving (the boy chose ice blue) and one for Halloween (the boy chose orange, naturally). Then we went to our local yarn shop, and I’d mistimed travel slightly; we arrived just on the stroke of eleven, and it hadn’t opened yet. The boy stood there and burst into tears, and wouldn’t listen to me when I said the we’d just sit and wait; he thought we were going home. (Yes, my son gets upset when the yarn store is closed. Of course, there is a toy fire truck there, and he loves the spinning wheel and the containers of yarn, but still.) I’d managed to get him to sit on the step with me and look at the new drawing app on my iPod when MA arrived with her keys and let us right in, bless her. “Are we going to be here for a long time, Mama?” he asked hopefully at one point. I told him that I hadn’t brought knitting or spinning to work on, and that we’d have to go home eventually for lunch anyhow, but I love that he was hoping we’d be there for a while. (It may have been directly connected to the fun he was having pushing one of the wheeled storage containers of yarn around like a train, of course.) We got all the fibre I needed to spin for various projects, plus a skein of yarn for another Yule gift and one to knit a hat with earflaps for the boy. Somehow my list of things to make for Yule has tripled in the last two weeks. I officially have what Ceri calls a Knitlist. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Saturday morning was overcast and gloomy, but the clouds were swept away for a bright though windy afternoon, beautiful weather for the wedding we were to attend on the south shore. Weddings of friends are always wonderful, because you get to see people you love in formal dress, something we don’t do enough of. I had the pleasure of handling the cufflinks for both the groom and best man, and assisted Jan with boutonnieres for the wedding party. (We were both on site early because t! was celebrating the wedding with assistance from HRH.) Lovely ceremony written by t!, sat with excellent people, touching speeches made by the best man and the maid of honour, and generally an all-round pleasant time. I want copies of the pictures others were taking because my own camera sat in my bag under the table. I think I was photographed more than I’ve ever been photographed at a wedding that wasn’t my own. Or maybe I was just standing with members of the wedding party a lot. We left around nine once the lights had gone down and the loud music had begun. There had been somewhat loud music throughout the meal as well, and I found myself kind of shouting to people across the table. Something irritated my throat in the middle of the meal and I had a coughing fit, which ruined my voice for the next day. All in all, though, we were with excellent friends celebrating a wonderful day, and it was a good time.

Sunday morning went out to Chapters to pick up the new TMBG kids’ album. I had deliberately waited a month and checked stock online to make sure it would be there. Well, it wasn’t. They looked on shelves, they looked in back, they finally concluded that it was somewhere in one of the ten pallets in back that had technically been received (i.e., someone had entered ISBNs, titles, and quantities from an invoice) but not unpacked. And the senior clerk I spoke with admitted that they were behind, and that it would take some time before those pallets were opened and shelved properly. I was thoroughly unimpressed. This isn’t the first time I’ve run into the “in stock but not on the shelf” issue at this shop, but it’s the first time they admitted to being so far behind that they couldn’t find it in the warehouse.

So the boy was disappointed (as were HRH and I, because we love TMBG’s kid stuff, too). Another book I wanted was also not on the shelves, despite there being twelve available according to stock check. I did pick up the copy of Amy King’s Spin Control I’d intended to come home with, though. From now on, I will call in advance, as much as I hate phones.

We did the grocery shopping, then I chatted with my mum and spun up another ounce of the yarn for my goddaughter’s Yule gift. We made cookies late in the afternoon, then I put the tiny cross-rib roast we’d bought in the oven for a somewhat unplanned Thanksgiving meal at home. It turned out perfectly, meltingly smooth, served with roast potatoes and carrots from the garden, drizzled with a separately-made onion gravy. Before we began to eat we lit the ice blue candle the boy had chosen for Thanksgiving and I asked if he wanted to say anything special. “No,” he said, “just Happy Thanksgiving.” I said I was thankful for food on the table, family and friends, and the roof over our heads, and the ability to enjoy our many hobbies and activities. And then we swooned with yum at the incredibly delicious food on our plates. The boy patted my hand during dinner and said, “I love you, Mama. Thank you for making this dinner for us.” He had seconds of potatoes and carrots, and ate every single piece of roast beef on his plate, impressing both of us. Oddly enough, he refused gravy. Once upon a time he wouldn’t eat anything unless it had gravy, so lo, we have come so very far. We’ve also come far in the successful roast beef department. Pretty much every roast I’ve done in the past few years hasn’t turned out the way I wanted it to for some reason. In fact, this one nearly didn’t; after roasting it for twice as long as I was supposed to it still wasn’t cooked through, so I hacked it into three pieces, laid the less cooked sides up, and roasted it at a higher temperature for ten minutes. The result was sheer perfection, so hurrah for my experience and instincts working together to actually get dinner on the table.

Once he was in bed I checked e-mail and discovered that I’d won… a copy of Amy King’s Spin Control in an online draw. (Insert whacking of forehead here. I am very pleased, of course, but also abashed.) So I will be returning the copy I bought and using the refund against the purchase of The Intentional Spinner, which they’ll need to order in for me. Not only that, I got a message from Aurora saying that she’d been in Vermont for Thanksgiving and had found a case of Vanilla Coke, and was bringing it home for me. An embarrassment of riches!

Monday we lazed about in the morning. HRH and the boy built a fort with a quilt and some chesterfield cushions, and the boy set up a Thanksgiving dinner inside it for all his stuffed animals with great enthusiasm. While he napped I spun up another ounce of yarn for the wrap. After his rest we went to HRH’s parents’ house for the official family Thanksgiving dinner, where I got another six inches of lace scarf knitted before dinner. Dinner itself was spectacular. The boy ate a staggering amount of turkey, half of it from the carving board before dinner itself, and the other half from drumsticks that he brandished like a pirate. He tried the stuffing and the purple cauliflower and passed on both of them, but ate several carrot sticks.

All in all, a lovely holiday weekend. Now we turn to winterizing, putting plastic over the windows and making things as efficient as possible. HRH put in the second outside window in our bedroom, and took out the screens in the boy’s room. We’d turned the central kitchen heater on last week and used the ceiling fan to circulate the warmer air when it went on, but yesterday we set all the room thermostats at 15 degrees, just to make sure things didn’t get too chilled. The outside gardens need to be fully cut back, and the compost spread over the beds, too. Snow has been spotted in the air not too far north.

Fifty-Two Months Old!

The boy has become quite the Lego expert. He builds wonderful little vehicles, my favourite of which was the steampunk car that had a propeller on top. He completely gets this from his father, because I think very poorly in the cube-based three-dimensional manner Lego requires.

We have had some very enthusiastic pretends lately; this past weekend saw him romping through house with stuffed owls and bunnies (“I have new springs!”) being chased by pretend crocodiles. The maturity level of his playing is becoming more complex, as are the situations he sets up for his cars or trains or stuffed animals. He uses his imagination, which resides in his head right above his right eyebrow, I am told.

He’s still interested in cooking, and will drag his chair over to help me use the stand mixer. He is especially enthusiastic about cracking eggs. (The success rate is about fifty-fifty. We’re getting there.) We made cookies for our at-home Thanksgiving dinner and when we put the first tray into the oven he went and got his little chair and set it in front of the oven door so he and Blackie could watch them bake.

The relationship with Blackie is… evolving, I suppose. His first can’t-be-separated-from toy was Bun-Bun, the stuffed rabbit Roo gave him when he was about seven months old. Bun-Bun was replaced by Blackie-Whitie this Easter, and the boy will pretty much always insist on bringing Blackie out of the house with him. The problem is, once out, he often forgets to collect Blackie and bring him back to the car or the house. Sometimes he tries to shove Blackie into our hands so he’s free to do whatever he intends to do, but we’re working on getting him to understand that he has responsibility for whatever he brings with him.

Naps are still happening, thank goodness, although he misses one now and again. They’re down to an hour and a half. He’s still sleeping about ten hours at night. The bad cold he had this past month had him waking up at least once a night for a good two weeks straight, and lately he still has a tendency to wake up around three or four in the morning. Then again, we all do these days, so it’s not so surprising. He gets put back to bed, and while he is upset at the time he falls asleep quickly.

The boy whistles better than I can. It’s both cheer-worthy and annoying.

He’s getting quite good at photography. As we have had one camera damaged already in the past three years, we are kind of jumpy about letting him use this one, but when he’s calm he’s pretty good with it. We’ll be looking for a secondhand one for him for Yule. I think I was about six when I got my first camera, a little Kodak Instamatic. Allow me to share one of the coolest artistic photos he’s taken so far:

He also took the pictures of me spinning. He needs to work on keeping people’s heads in the frame, and thinking of faces as the focus, but in general he’s not bad.

Perhaps not surprisingly, he picks up music extremely quickly. I’ve noticed it in the car, where he can often sing most of the words of a song after two cycles of the CD, but his teacher has noted it as well, saying that he often has new songs learned after one go at circle time.

He has suddenly mastered zippers, getting his arms into coats, and doing up belts. Getting socks on is almost there. He’s trying valiantly, but we often have to set them on his toes so he can pull them over his foot and up his leg.

Reading: he knows more than he’s letting on. This is frustrating for us. I understand that he doesn’t want to lose the closeness of an activity like reading together, but nothing we say or do seems to convince him that we’ll keep reading to him if he admits that he can read on his own. His language skills are noticeably developing more and more. His inflections and sense of humour are really emerging. He’s starting to engage in wordplay, which is hilarious. There are a lot of “Why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes going on, which are funny because they’re not funny, if you know what I mean. ( “Because his knitting was on the other side!” will kill your audience because you’ve missed the point of the joke.)

There were two big events this past month. The first was his first trip to go apple picking. We had a wonderful day out with the Aubin-Murphy clan, helping the kids find the best trees, the highest apples, and enough ladders so they didn’t have to keep taking turns. The second was the harvest ritual at Rowan Hill Farm, which was the first ritual he was old enough to actually understand and participate in independently. Both events were full of enthusiasm, love, running around outdoors, and absolute joy. It’s when I see him running around in situations like this that I can’t help but feel joy as well. It’s catching.

Dull

First, a pretty picture: I’m currently spinning some Louet Northern Lights in the Cactus Flower colourway. It’s my first foray into spinning dyed fibre, and it’s fascinating me. I probably wouldn’t have chosen this to spin, but it was a test done with fibre on hand, and it turns out it works rather well for a project I had in mind. More on that later, though. Show and tell first!

Okay. Now for the less than cheerful stuff.

I seem to be at a pretty bad fibro low. The cold/flu thing that tag-teamed me through September really kicked me hard, and getting back on my feet is a very long drawn-out process that’s not much fun at all. It’s also that time of year where I’m restless, but don’t want to leave my office. I want to be out being distracted by things, but I don’t have the energy to either do it physically or mentally, since dealing with People At Large requires a heck of a lot of energy. And as I no longer have the car, going out via public requires more time and physical energy as well.

So I’m spending a lot of time flipping dully through stuff on the internet hoping for inspiration, researching spinning and testing stuff out because it relaxes me and doesn’t draw a whole bunch of energy from me, and getting frustrated because I can’t work. Work is… draining. It’s at the point where I’m not being fulfilled by it, and it’s just a paycheque. Which is not a bad thing, because I never set out on this particular freelance gig seeking fulfillment; it was always intended to be just a paycheque, because money is good. It’s just really hard to open these documents and run a review on them, because most of the time they’re poorly written and poorly laid out, and that’s really depressing. I have to muster up a huge amount of energy to deal with them, and that’s draining on a whole other level. What would probably fulfill me more is actually writing, except that whole finite amount of energy and currently low levels means I need to direct the energy towards paying/deadlined work first. I feel exhausted just thinking about writing my own stuff, and not terribly inspired. What I need to do is rethink how I handle these assignments. Maybe read through them entirely before starting to pull out the broken elements for the report, then handle the report at the end rather than starting with it at the beginning of the read-through, because it slows things down.

Cello is feeling kind of sloggy at the moment too, because I’m trying to internalize a whole lot of stuff that’s coming up in lessons, mostly about technique, and as a result a bunch of other stuff is breaking down. This is not unusual; very often we have to unlearn things, or take things apart in order to reassemble them properly. I know this intellectually, but my emotional awareness just sees things I was playing decently now being played horribly and piles on the self-confidence crisis. Orchestra is a slog too, because I’ve been dealing with the take-apartness issues (I’ve played everything on this program before, so why can’t I do it now?), the past month I’ve been ill and unable to focus properly, and I’m experiencing issues with bringing things up to tempo. I can play them sub-tempo at home, and I’m not up to speed yet at rehearsal, which, let me tell you, is frustrating and embarrassing when you sit second chair right in front of the conductor. (I am very specifically not looking at the Beethoven, here. I know, I asked for a Beethoven symphony; I’ve changed my mind. How about some Haydn? Or some Boyce?) So rather than being excited about cello the way I was in the spring and early summer I’m dragging my feet.

There’s a wedding this Saturday for which I’m trying to muster up the enthusiasm to attend. It’s Thanksgiving, which means there will be a visit to the in-laws. Perhaps that’s part of my trouble; we usually visit my parents at this time of year, and maybe not going is messing with my seasonal pattern.

Ultimately it all comes down to being frustrated because I don’t have enough energy to handle everything I need to handle. I want to go out; I stay home because I know that if I go out I’ll exhaust myself for an undetermined period of time. I can’t focus on work. Cello is at a not-rewarding point.

The one good thing that’s happening is spinning. I am so thankful I discovered it at this particular point, because it’s productive and creative while being not overly demanding energy-wise. I just started my first spinning with colour experiment (see above), and it’s brilliant. Ceri got the fibre as a sample when we took our spindle class together in May, and found it while she was looking for something else during the crafting weekend. The bag of roving was a bit garish, but I test-spun it and lo and behold, it’s exactly my goddaughter’s favourite colours: hot pink, deep greens and blues, and some purples. The colours soften and blend so much during the spinning process that the single is quite attractive. I’m so glad, because finding a yarn for the wrap I wanted to knit for her as a Yule gift was becoming quite a trial (not that I was looking for a colourway with all her favourite colours in it; this was pure serendipity). I’m spinning a fairly fine single, and fingering weight (what the pattern calls for — well, actually it doesn’t, it calls for laceweight, but I’m knitting a heavier wrap so I’ll be using fingering weight) will be no problem at all. Thank goodness my beloved LYS Ariadne Knits had another couple of the small 2oz bags in stock; they’ve got those aside for me, and all together that will be 6oz and more than enough (she said, crossing her fingers and looking sternly at the spinning wheel, which is totally innocent). Of course, once it’s spun up and plied I’ll have to knit the thing, which is another kettle of fish entirely. I am also planning to knit a hat with earflaps for the boy, so we shall see what all these good intentions bring.

Weekend Roundup: Crafting Weekend Edition

Originally planned as a weekend away in Alexandria, this weekend was revised when two of the original hosts had to bow out due to health issues. Ceri hosted it instead, we tweaked the meal plan a bit to reflect fewer people, Mousme couldn’t join us till Sunday due to what began as alternate plans and was revised to a shoulder injury… but we stayed true to the original vision of the weekend and had much fun.

After untangling and rewinding the Skein of Doom we determined that it was in fact too light for the project Ceri needs it for. Turns out it’s a wpi or so thicker than fingering weight. (Colour me plenty astonished, and allow me to pat myself on the back for accomplishing that light a weight so early in the spinning game.) I suggested spinning some worsted weight Corriedale for her. She wibbled a bit saying that she didn’t want to create more work for me, and I said, “Do you realise that it will take me all of four hours to spin what you need?” So off I went, and I had it about 90% plied by the time I left on Sunday, too. It was an interesting exercise to consciously spin something thicker than my default setting, and at one point I laughed at myself because whereas before I’d been looking at the thick bits of yarn and saying, “Bah, yuck,” now I was looking at the thin bits and saying, “Bah, yuck.” After skeining it this morning and doing a test wpi, I have discovered that it’s between worsted and Aran weight, and I am very proud. It’s lovely and shiny, and softer to touch than the fingering weight spun from the same fibre. Now I need to do another seventy yards or so to get to the yardage required by Ceri’s pattern.

While rummaging around for something this weekend (she did a lot of magically producing equipment and supplies for various people, bless her) Ceri discovered a 2oz bag of coloured fibre she’d gotten at the spindling workshop we’d taken in May. Turns out that it’s exactly the colours I was looking for with which to knit a Yule gift for my goddaughter. So I’ll do a test spin of it (ha ha, fingering weight, go me!) and if it spins up well I’ll get Ariadne to order a half-pound of it in for me, and my goddaughter shall have an extra-special gift. Assuming I can get it done by the solstice, that is; if not, her birthday’s in early spring.

Working in a group of fellow crafters was remarkably soothing. What we might have blown up at if we were alone became an annoyed exclamation, sympathised with by everyone else. We proposed solutions to other people’s problems, or helped one another out. (The Skein of Doom would never have become untwisted without Jan’s help, for example.) It was fun, and relaxing, and we all accomplished an incredible amount of work because it was all we had to do, and we all want to do it again. I suggested a fall and spring schedule, so as to tidy away loose ends of projects hanging about before a new half of the year.

I sent Jan home with my spindle and some fibre. Muah hah hah. Also, poor Mousme, who was doped up on anti-inflammatories and codeine, kept being lulled into a trace by the spinning wheel.

I could try to write it all out in even more detail but I’m still down for the count energy-wise from the cold (this weekend was all about sitting down and not moving, thank goodness), so here, preserved for posterity, are the Tweets Ceri and I posted during the weekend. They became rewards or ways to cebrate various achievements.

Day One, 3 October 2009:

Ceri: Have decided to live Twitter our #craftingweekend. Because what is more hilarious than knitting? (1:00 PM)

Autumn: Two days, four women, crochet hooks, yarn, circular knitting needles, one spinning wheel. And livetweeting the process. What can go wrong? (1:24 PM)

Ceri: The weekend gets off to an ominous start when @owldaughter was attacked by her blanket yarn. Which then tried to escape. #craftingweekend

Autumn: Have just learned how to tink back. Backwards knitting: who knew? #craftingweekend (1:25 PM)

Ceri: Jan is here. We’ve moved to the sunporch. We have tea, cookies, pepperoni and cheese. Let’s roll. #craftingweekend

Autumn: Current music: The Puppini Sisters. When the tea is gone, I think the cider will come out. #craftingweekend (1:30 PM)

Autumn: It’s all about having a vision, even while you’re struggling with finicky little bits that don’t look like much. #craftingweekend (2:15 PM)

Ceri: Now my crochet hook flew out of my hands and attempted to commit suicide. Too much amigurumi? #craftingweekend

Autumn: It’s like magic! You knit, and the scarf gets longer. Magic, I tell you. #craftingweekend (3:25 PM)

Autumn: And now, to unknot the Skein of Doom. I spun it; I somehow twisted it while washing it; I get to untangle it. #craftingweekend (4:30 PM)

Ceri: The Skein of Doom is being threatened into submission with very sharp scissors. The Cursed Shawl is still sulking. #craftingweekend

Autumn: ONE HOUR LATER the skein has been untangled and remeasured. Couldn’t have done it w/o Jan. Thank the gods for cider. #craftingweekend (5:48 PM)

Ceri: Dinner has been had, the cats have been kicked out of the sunporch so as not to get into fibre-related trouble.#craftingweekend

Ceri: Have discovered why the mittens are taking so long to knit. Needles are size 4. They should be size 4mm. NOT THE SAME. #craftingweekend

Day Two, 4 October 2009:

Autumn: Hearty breakfast has been had. All four crafters are installed. Let’s roll… day two. #craftingweekend (11:33 AM)

Ceri: Have reached the decreases on the hand of the mitten. Then I shall take out the Cursed Shawl and see if it is repentant. #craftingweekend (2:00?)

Autumn: Bobbin #1 of the second go at worsted weight is done (the DK isn’t quite heavy enough). Bobbin #2 is about to begin! #craftingweekend (2:00?)

Ceri: Took out the Cursed Shawl. Jan dropped six stitches. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. #craftingweekend (2:30?)

Autumn: Break. Back hurting. Not sure if that’s the lingering cold, or the spinning. #craftingweekend (2:30?)

Autumn: There was dancing to jazz. With cats. Not by me. But there was. #craftingweekend (2:45?)

Ceri: The Cursed Shawl is back on the Needles! All the stitches are there, I know what row I’m on, and the yarn’s untangled. WOO! #craftingweekend (4:00?)

Autumn: Second bobbin of Corriedale spun. Now another break, then it shall be plied! #craftingweekend (4:00?)

Ceri: @owldaughter has left :( #craftingweekend is almost at an end. (8:00?)

Ceri: I finished a mitten! Woo! #craftingweekend (9:00?)

Ceri: … and my other guests are gone. So that means #craftingweekend is officially over.

Day Three – Summary:

Autumn: #craftingweekend tally A: 1 lap blanket tinked back and prepped to continue; 1 Cursed Shawl lifelined and ripped back, prepped to continue;

Autumn: #craftingweekend tally B: 1 thrummed mitten; 1 quilt basted; several quilt patches seamed; 1 baby blanket border completed;

Autumn: #craftingweekend tally C: bits of Mystery Amigurumi crocheted; another 2 inches of lace scarf knitted; 1 10 yr old sweater assembled;

Autumn: #craftingweekend tally D: tangled skein untwisted; 5 oz Corriedale spun and plied for worsted weight. I declare this weekend a full success!

Ceri: After #craftingweekend, my Christmas list feels manageable again. WOOHOO! Same time next weekend?

And the bonus Tweet from Scott, around mid-afternoon on Day One (which really should have had a #craftingweekend hashtag, to amuse readers):

Scott: The women are knitting and the men are killing zombies.

(Context, should you desire it: He encountered one of the original participants, who had cancelled due to poor health, playing Left4Dead online, so they slew zombies companionably while we crafted upstairs.)

Other stuff that happened this weekend: A good cello lesson Saturday morning, an errand run with HRH after the cello lesson, and HRH painted the front of his parents’ house.

Noon

Four loads of laundry done (okay, the third’s drying, the fourth’s in the washer), the freelance polishing is almost complete, and the sun is actually out today. I feel slightly more human, though folding the first two loads of laundry wiped me out for a good half hour.

HRH turned the heat on in the kitchen last night, as it’s central so would take the chilly edge off pretty much everywhere, because the temperature went down to three degrees C last night. Seriously, October? Three degrees already? Come on, Indian summer!

ETA @ 2 PM: Laundry done, and freelance thing done. Going to go fall into bed now, because I’m dizzy and have the chills.