Trenchwork

I’ve spent the last two days wiping and reinstalling my laptop, so I’m a day late with this post.  The laptop has been a little quirky, and it was (is) worth giving it a full overhaul to see if that will settle things down—and thus keep me from having to get another just yet.  It’s been a good little thing, and I’m comfortable with it, but I do recognize that in laptop years, it’s getting rather grey around the muzzle and growing hair in unexpected places.  It’s also put enough miles under its belt and been subjected to enough bumps and bungles to have earned the right to be a bit odd, but I’ll be happier if it’ll last the coming year.

So, here I am . . . a bit late, but a bit relieved that the year has turned the corner.  2010 carried more than its share of sadness, stress, and challenges, and I’m praying—quite literally–for a better year in 2011.  And I’m sorry, but friends and family?  Listen to me very carefully:  You are all required to take care of yourselves this year.  I refuse to lose another of you any time soon, so just suck it up and reconcile yourselves to the notion of being around for quite a while to come, thank you very much.

Christmas was quiet—and routine, for the most part, although I can see the effects of the stress of the year in stupid little accidents as the year wound down.  On Christmas Eve, we traditionally go to the in-laws for dinner and gifts; they come to us on Christmas day.  For the first time in the nearly 15 years DH and I have been married, I broke a dish.  And of course, when I make a mistake, I don’t waste time with little versions:  I really go out big.  As I was carrying two of my MIL’s bowls into the kitchen—one with potatoes and the other with surkål—I stumbled over the kitchen rug and took the most graceful full gainer on the floor.  I did my best to save the bowls, but ended up landing on one of them anyway.  An old, porcelain china serving dish.  Not something one would find at Ikea.  I managed to save the one with the potatoes, but surkål and bits of china were smeared across the kitchen floor—and I’ve no idea how I managed to not cut myself or the clothes I was wearing.  How exactly does one land on china without getting cut??

It took us a few minutes to clear the kitchen of sauerkraut (that’s what surkål is; the sweet variety) and china chips, rather longer for me to recover from the shakeup, and I’m still well and truly miffed at myself for not managing to save that bowl!  There’s no way to replace it, but perhaps I can find a similar one next week when the stores go back to normal hours.

On Christmas day, DH prepared the main dish and the primary side dish:  pinnekjøtt and kålrabistappe.  The in-laws were over, and afterward my MIL and I were standing at our little one-hole sink while I rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.  But the sink is small, and too small to rinse the big pieces, so I had used the hose attachment to spray the baking pan.  It’s a simple arrangement:  pull up the stopper and the water diverts from the faucet to the hose; push it down and the water returns to the hose.  Nor is there anything subtle about it; it’s a jet stream of water which is liable to drench everything in sight if you’re not careful.  Turn off the water and it stays in whatever setting you left it in.  Turn it on, and if you happed to leave it set to the hose, well, that’s where the water goes.  And it’s easy to turn off the water and forget to push the stopper back down . . .

My poor MIL was nigh well drenched.  Literally.  Thankfully, wool sheds water pretty quickly initially, and the humidity has been so low that her sweater and skirt dried out in less than 15 minutes.  But bless her heart!  First I break a bowl she’s had since the early days of her marriage about 60 years ago, then I hose her down.

She decided she should probably go sit down in the living room after that; we figured it was probably safer.

And the next day I managed to drop an insulated thermos on my head . . .

What a way to end a year!

On a more positive note, I turned the new year last night by carding some of Fluffball,

a Teeswater/Rambouillet lamb fleece from Kate Lowder.  There are now 7 lovely batts waiting to be spun, and a bin of separated locks waiting to be flicked and carded.  Given the events of the past few days, I thought it might be wise to work with something other than wool combs for that token “start the new year” activity.  Because, doggone it, with the way things have been going, I’d have ended up seriously puncturing myself and I figured the hospital’s ER would have enough to do on New Year’s Eve.

So, folks, we’ve turned the corner.  This is a new year, a fresh start, and a chance to make another beginning.

Spinners Home.

As some of you know, I own and maintain the Nordic spinners’ forum, Spinners Home. I set the forum up nearly four years ago when I found that there was no place for spinners in the Scandinavian countries—and particularly Norway—to talk about spinning in their own language, and using their own traditions and heritage.  They were feeling overwhelmed by the American conversation, and that made sense to me.  So, I made the space for them, and I generally try and keep a low profile.  The forum has grown, and it has a contingent of regular voices that I very much enjoy seeing.

Every Christmas-New Year’s period and going into my birthday, I set up a lottery for the members.  It’s a way to get them to look back over the past year of activity, and look ahead to what they’d like to do in the coming year, and possibly set a few goals for themselves.  However, it also gives me a small opportunity to enable one spinner in a way s/he may not have opportunity for otherwise.  It’s a simple process; all they have to do is answer a few questions on their blog, then post the link in the forum so I’ll know who wants to participate.  Then, on the 4th, I’ll draw the name of the winner, do some homework to find out about likes and interests, and arrange a “surprise” package.  Easy, totally fun, and I absolutely enjoy it.  This is the fourth year I’ve done it, and it’s becoming a bit of a tradition.

This year I thought I’d answer the questions myself, so the next bit will be in both languages.

* Hva har du lært om fiber/spinning/bruk av ditt håndspunnet garn i det siste året?  Hva har du prøvd nytt?  Hvordan har du presset deg selv ut fra din “comfort zone” til nye utfordringer?  (Om du er helt fersk til spinning regner jeg med at alt ligger utenfor din comfort zone.  )  Eller, hva har du funnet ER din comfort zone?  (“Comfort zone” betyr at noe er så behagelig at den har ikke noe utfordring; man kunne nesten gjøre det uten å tenke.  Det betyr ikke at det er kjedelig, men heller at du har mestret det og at du kan “falle tilbake” på det for å slappe av og fortsatt vite at produkten kommer til å bli bra.) (Translation:  What have you learned about fiber/spinning/the use of your own handspun in the last year?  What have you tried new, and how have you pushed yourself out of your comfort zone?  Or, what have you found IS your comfort zone?)

I år har jeg holdt mest til comfort spinning; tid og stress har vært for mye, og jeg har ikke klarte å ta opp mye nye.  Det finnes et par unntakelser med fiber—stort sett feller—og det svaret kommer litt lengre ned.  (This year I’ve held mostly to comfort spinning; time and stress have been overwhelming, and I’ve not really managed to take on much new.  There are a couple of exceptions—mostly to do with fleece—and that answer will come a bit further down.)

* Har du funnet at du spesielt likte noen fiber/redskaper eller ikke likte noe?  Hvorfor eller hvordan? (Have you found you especially liked or dislikeda particular fiber or tool?  How or why?)

Jeg skjønte det for lenge siden, men jeg liker veldig å jobbe med rå ull.  Jeg merker at garn som jeg har forberedt selv helt fra bunn—som jeg har vasket og forberedt og spunnet selv—klør ikke så mye som ullgarn som ble kjøpt, eller til og med som garn jeg har spunnet fra den slags fiberen men som var allerede gjort klar for spinning.  Som et resultat har jeg blitt litt hektet på Bond, Polwarth, og noen nydelige Merino.  De er myke, har bra elastisitet, og jeg er helt fascinert av hvordan fiberene forandrer seg fra lokkene til garn til noe annet—hva som helst annet.

Chris med Valkyrie Supply laget et sett ullkammer til meg som jeg elsker.  De er de ekstra-fine kammene som finnes nå i butikken; de fungerer supert med fine fiber.  Akkurat nå jobber han også med å lage et par kammer som er enda finere—og jeg gleder meg virkelig å se hva han får til.  De kommer til å bli veldig nyttig når det gjelder superfine fiber som kanin og silke. Men hvorfor jeg liker kammene . . . Å kamme ull er utrolig beroligende og tilfredsstillende som også gir en utrolig bra fiber å spinne.  Disse kammene passer akkurat til hendene mine, har bra balanse, og veldig spise tenner.  Jeg er glad i redskaper som viser at de som laget dem var nøye med detaljene i tillegg til at de gjør jobben som de burde.

English: It’s not anything new, but I really do love working with fleece.  I actually do better with fleece I prepare myself than many other fibers as far as sensitivity is concerned, but in particular I’ve developed new addictions to Bond, Polwarth, and some truly lovely Merinos.  They’re soft, have lovely bounce and handle, and I love seeing how they change from fleece to yarn . . . to something else.

Chris of  Valkyrie Supply made a set of combs which I’m in love with; they’re the extra fines listed on the shop site and they do a wonderful job on fine fibers. Even more tantalizing, he’s working on a set of combs for superfine fibers, and I absolutely cannot wait to see what he comes up with.  As for why . . . Combing is a quieting activity which happens to give a terrific fiber prep.  These combs fit my hands, they have a lovely balance, the tines are perfectly sharp.  I love tools which show good craftsmanship and attention to details, and which function well.

* Hva har du fortsatt lyst å lære eller der det noe du er nysjerrig om?  (Fiber, teknikker, metoder, redskaper)  (What are you interested in learning, or curious about?)

Du store min.  ALT.    Spinning og fiber—uansett hvor mye man lærer—er en reise hvor man kan lære hele livet uten å ha lært alt.

English: Oh, my goodness.  EVERYTHING.    Spinning and fiber, regardless of how much one learns, is a journey where one can learn one’s entire life without ever reaching the point of having learned it all.

* Hva er det du er mest stolt av i spinning/bruk av ditt håndspunnet garn i det siste året?  (skulle elske å se bilder her!)  (What are you most proud of in your spinning or use of handspun over the course of the past year?)

Jeg skal ikke si at jeg er nødvendigvis stolt av noe, men jeg merker at jeg blir veldig fornøyd med et par ting.  Jeg var glad at garnet mitt kunne brukes i Miriam Felton’s nye bok, Twist & Knit i den Tudor Stole.  Men kanskje ble jeg mest fornøyd med mitt eget Traveling Woman sjal (se forrige innlegget) som ble strikket av garn som ble spunnet fra ull  jeg måtte vaske, karde, og til slutt farge selv.

English: I won’t say that I’m necessarily proud of anything, but I would say that I’m satisfied with a few things.  I was pleased that my yarn could be used in Miriam Felton’s new book, Twist & Knit, in the Tudor Stole.  But perhaps I’m most satisfied with my own Traveling Woman shawl (see previous post), which was knitted of yarn spun from fleece I washed, carded, and eventually dyed myself.

Because of everything else that’s happened this year, I wouldn’t say that I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone with fiber.  The fiber has, in one way, been its own comfort zone, and that has been terribly important in its own right.   In other words, the fiber I’ve known has proven itself to be a comfort, a pleasure, and a reassurance.

And sometimes a little luxury . . .

Fiber: Tussah silk top, dyed in the “Gold Dust Woman” colorway from Enchanted Knoll Farm.
WPI/TPI: WPI= ca 20; TPI =ca 9
Weight: 56grams/1.97 ounces
Yardage: 400 yards/365 meters

Sometimes one needs a little luxury.  And how can one go wrong with silk?