J is for “Just who do you think you are, missy?”

I bought a fleece.

Me, a total n00b, who owns no drum carder or even hand cards (yet) bought a 13 freakin’ pound fleece.

It seemed like a good idea at the time (right, Kim?)

The good news: It’s gorgeous, and in good shape (I think, but what do I know?) and washes up beautifully based on the little bit I cleaned in my bathtub. No second cuts, soft like butter, white as snow, what’s not to love?

Um, it’s a fleece from a Lincoln ram lamb. Hence 13 lbs. Knowing nothing about sheep breeds at the time (I know, shut up) I looked up Lincolns when I got home.

The fleece of the Lincoln is carried in heavy locks that are often twisted into a spiral near the end. Lincolns should be very well wooled to the knees and hocks, and occasionally some individuals carry wool below these points. The staple length in Lincolns is among the longest of all the breeds, ranging from eight to fifteen inches* (20-38 cm) with a yield of 65 to 80 percent. The fleece usually parts over the back on lambs and sometimes on older sheep. Lincolns produce the heaviest and coarsest fleeces of the long-wooled sheep with ewe fleeces weighing from 12 to 20 pounds (5.4-9kg). The fleece has a numeric count of 36’s - 46’s and ranges from 41.0 to 33.5 microns in fiber diameter. Although coarse and somewhat hair-like, the fleece does have considerable luster.**

*Eight to fifteen inch staple? Yikes! That lets out fiber processing by Spinderella, our local favorite, as her carder can only handle staple lengths up to seven inches. I did find this place in Washington state, and they raise Lincolns, so I might be sending it off to the Pacific Northwest soon.

**Coarse and hair-like? Okay, I guess it is “hair-like”–whatever that means. Coarse as in thick? Coarse as in rough? But it’s so soft! Am I crazy?

More photos here on Flickr.

Suggestions? Accolades? Condolences? Jibes?

Huge sigh of relief

Current Mood:Esctatic emoticon Esctatic

I found out yesterday that my divorce was finally, finally FINAL as of May 15. Which means that, from the day I first filed, December 15, 2005, it took exactly two years and 5 months to work through the process.

People in a position to know told me they’d never seen a divorce as ugly as mine. In many ways, it was a nightmare—that I won’t deny. But in other ways, it brought with it many blessings.

Friends and sometimes total strangers offered me compassion, a listening ear, encouragement, tissues (!), support (financial and otherwise), safe haven, and unconditional love. One of the most important gifts I received from many corners was the calm acknowledgment that, yes, I was wading through shit, but that of course I would come through this, eventually, and I’d be stronger for the struggle.

I feel like I’m starting to wake up. My creativity is coming back, my sense of balance and normality, my sense of hope.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

If I had a million dollars
Well I’d buy you a green dress
(but not a real green dress, that’s cruel)

If I had a million dollars
Well I’d buy you a monkey
(haven’t you always wanted a monkey?)

MWAH!

What age do I act?


You Act Like You Are 26 Years Old

You are a twentysomething at heart.

You feel like an adult, and you’re optimistic about life.

You feel excited about what’s to come… love, work, and new experiences.

You’re still figuring out your place in the world and how you want your life to shape up.

The world is full of possibilities, and you can’t wait to explore many of them.

What Age Do You Act?

When I was 26 the year was 1986 and I was one year into my second marriage. I hadn’t had any children yet and was working for a local interior design company as a “project manager” (glorified secretary/tech writer). Said company turned out to be crooks but I did meet a good friend working there and we’ve remained friends all these years. Our two youngest sons are just a few weeks apart in age and like brothers.

At 26 I was trying really hard to grow up and be an adult. I longed for what I saw as the stability of staid married life and was hoping to “start a family,” which meant, to me, adding children to our marriage.

From my perspective, being grown up meant listening to classical music radio and NPR during the workday and playing King’s Quest on our 286K computer at night. We had friends over for dinner and went to movies and stayed home with the VCR and leaned into responsible adulthood. I gave up crochet for the more “refined” craft of needlepoint, and didn’t know the first thing about knitting.

B-O-R-I-N-G.

I should have been going to kickass concerts then, but all I managed was Elton John or Neil Diamond or Diana Ross. I didn’t get introduced to Green Day or Violent Femmes or Nirvana or Red Hot Chili Peppers or the Ramones or the Beastie Boys or even really much of The Clash until years later.

I was older then.

People who are content to be right where they are and who can enjoy themselves without wanting to hurry time or slow it down must be very happy.

I’m trying to learn to LIVE IN THE NOW. But the me I am now still wants to go to concerts; even at “my age” I want to enjoy all that music I missed back then plus the new music I hear about all the time. Rodrigo y Gabriela, anyone? If you’ve never seen or heard of them, follow that link and be amazed. Stunning.

Btw, that’s me in the pic, though about age 5, not 26. Heh.

Mowed the lawn today

I’ve never mowed the lawn before. In my life. Who knew you could adjust the levels? Oops.

Here’s a picture of my trusty steed, purchased today.

I’ve got so much yard work to do. I’ve got so much house work to do. I’ve got soap to pack for Snake River next weekend. I’ve got laundry to do. Papers to read. I need a shower.

Anybody have any suggestions of what to knit with Kidsilk Haze? That’s what I really want to do, instead of all those other things. I finally feel I’ve reached a point in my knitting skillz to tackle a shawl made from, not only Rowan yarn, but Her Majesty Kidsilk Haze. In the most gorgeous colorway called, what else—Majestic.

I’ve been poring over books and Ravelry trying to settle on just the right pattern, but every one I look at makes me think “maybe I could design something I liked better.” So then I can’t choose. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

I is for ice cream

Dear Breyer’s:

I’ve been a long time advocate of Breyer’s ice cream and refused to buy any other brand for years because you made a superior product with only natural ingredients. I’m very disappointed that you’ve started putting tara gum in your ice creams. I no longer buy Breyer’s ice cream, as I do not like the texture or flavor of ice creams with added thickeners. You have lost a loyal customer forever.

I’ve found, recently, that Blue Bunny makes an all natural vanilla ice cream with no thickeners and I’ve started buying that.

I’m disappointed to no longer enjoy mint chip, strawberry or chocolate ice cream from Breyer’s, but the vanilla Blue Bunny will have to do until I can decide which ice cream maker to buy.

You shouldn’t mess with a good thing.

I have a deep and abiding love for ice cream. Especially in the winter. But even though winter is gone (fingers crossed) I still cannot resist an almost daily ice cream fix.

It’s not that easy to find good ice cream at the grocery store these days. I used to love Breyer’s, because it was made with only milk, cream, eggs, sugar, vanilla, cocoa, strawberries, etc.; no artificial colors, flavors, or thickeners. Sadly, Breyer’s has changed its formula and added tara gum (ick) and so I’ve been at a loss.

So it’s Blue Bunny to the rescue along with Tom’s Gourmet Dark Fudge Sauce (locally made) until I can decide if I want to buy an ice cream/gelato maker. Then the Blue Bunny will go, but I have a feeling the Tom’s will stay. Yum.

Fluke


Hello, friends. I have another FREE new pattern available for you to try if you like.

It’s called “Fluke”—doesn’t the lace look like a whale’s fluke? I love it for that very reason. That’s why I chose the dark gray, as well. I’ve seen a whale fluking just once off the Oregon coast and it was AMAZING. I adore whales.

Here’s a great link of a whale fluking. It’s just SO COOL.

The pattern is available as a free PDF download. Follow the knitting link in the top right hand corner of the blog to find the free patterns (also available on Ravelry).

If you do knit it, let me know what you think! It’s already pretty popular on Ravelry and I’ve received a lot of buzz and good feedback.

Eye Candy Friday

Spring is making a valiant effort—in spite of the snow and cold.

These blossoms were photographed Monday morning of this week, a day that turned out to be 80 degrees and gorgeous. Wednesday was a blizzard of snow. It’s supposed to warm up again this weekend.

That’s a Utah spring for you.

Illicit love

I admit it. I know it’s wrong, in so many ways, but I cannot help myself. I’m in love.

photo from motor trendPerhaps love isn’t the right word. I don’t love SUVs. I don’t love the idea putting hundreds of dollars toward gasoline every month. I don’t love spending thousands of dollars on new cars (well, actually I do, or I would, theoretically, but I can’t).

Lust is probably a more accurate description of what I feel toward this vehicle.

Yet the attraction has not been fleeting. I first laid eyes on this beautiful thing last summer while visiting the Oregon coast. I pulled up next to it in a parking lot and just gaped at it. Its retro lines and astonishingly beautiful paint job swept me off my feet.

Okay, now let me mention that I’m totally not a car person. Cars are functional and useful, but I’m driving an eight year old station wagon with 103,000 miles on the odometer and it’s fine with me. I don’t generally go gaga over cars. I didn’t even know this thing was a Toyota FJ Cruiser until a couple of weeks ago.

I might admire cars in the abstract, but they’re just, you know, cars. No big whoop.

But not this gorgeous thing. Though it will never be mine in reality (they don’t even offer this color anymore—idiots), it will always be mine in my heart. Where it counts. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

*sob*

H is for handspun

Beautiful Romney wool from my S’nB friend Warren.  He gave me 3-4 oz of two different colors that I’ll ply together once they’re both spun.  This is the lighter of the two.

Mediation

I was not looking forward to today and had no illusions about the likelihood we’d reach an agreement. To my surprise, we did. My attorney says the divorce could be final next week.

As I sit here alone, surrounded by people in a busy restaurant and sipping a glass of very nice Lebanese wine, I turn my thoughts to my nearly defunct (but for the legal formalities) marriage. My little notebook that has been my companion for the past three years awaits my pen while I take a moment to collect my thoughts and sort out my feelings.

While I’m decidedly content and grateful that the whole ordeal seems to be coming to an end, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat for the loss we’ve all experienced.

Especially James. He has suffered most of all.

I hope that the cordiality and spirit of compromise that marked today but that has been sadly lacking throughout most of this process can carry over—at least through our inevitable meetings that will mark the milestones of our children’s lives.

I never understood why it had to be so painful.

The unbidden memories that come to mind are vague and consist mostly of two little boys who were endless sources of delight and wonder to both of their parents. They deserved better than they got.

Though I suppose we did the best we could.