Once upon a time, there was a little girl who’s mother did all things fiber. No, no, no. That’s the beginning, and I’m supposed to start in the middle. Wait, I’ve got the quote wrong, anyway. Hang on while I go find the book. *much rustling of pages and muttering ensues* Ah, here we go. Spider Robinson, who along with Robert Heinlein and my parents managed to raise me. “The immortal storyteller Alfred Bester once said that the way to tell a story is to begin with a disaster and then to build to a climax.” (Callahan’s Legacy, page 1).
Humph. You know what? Forget the entire thing. There are lots of very nice R and X rated blogs out there, but this wasn’t intended to be one of them, and disasters are annoying and much too complicated to deal with in anything less than a book anyway.
Anyway, almost exactly a year ago, I went to a class about spinning. I was handed a drop spindle, a hank of wool, and told how to spin the spindle to make single-ply yarn. Somewhat to my surprise, despite being right-handed for everything else, I am apparently left-handed for using a drop spindle. Sinister spinning? Little did I know the dangers of learning to spin. A year later, I own three drop spindles, a spinning wheel which I traded for a pair of hand-knit socks (and wasn’t that a story!), and far too much roving. I have sworn off buying new yarn for the next six months. Which was fine before I started creating more yarn of my own!
Like this last week, when I was on vacation. I spun FOUR skeins of yarn. That’s a lot of yarn. That’s really a lot of yarn. Like this much yarn.
Double ply, gray wool yarn. The skeins are different sizes because I was winding them around the rocking chairs, and rocking chairs move, even before anyone decides to come and sit it them while I am still winding yarn around the backs. I have no idea how much yarn there is in terms of length. Just a lot. I’m going to knit a shawl, the Kay’s Tess D’Urberville shawl from Ravelry.
I think I’ll go spin some more.