the quacking fiber addict

“The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it”
Terry Pratchett

I remembered this morning what I wanted to write last night. It's not anything consequential, but it'll serve to prove to myself later that I am not half so dorky as I think I am. I believe it was Wednesday when I started reading Salt: A World History by Kurlansky, bacause P gave it a good review. It is the first book I have actually wanted to read in a long time. College really burnt me out on reading. I haven't been able to finish a book (that wasn't assigned in class) in longer than I can remember.

So far, I only have 2 of (okayokay, I actually already have everyone's addresses, don't ask why) the Wacky Ducky Contest have sent me their 3 fav colours, whether they knit or crochet, and their address (admittedly irrelevant for four of you). If you don't send me an email, I'll just send something willy-nilly your way and it'll be your fault. Not mine. Tehe. To date, I've gotten two "surprise me"s and one actual email with fav colours. (I should get extra-special Brownie points for not putting up "Lord, what fools these mortals be," as tonight's quote...)

Anyway.

I have been very very bad today. Have I made progress on either of my design projects? No, not really (I did swatch for one, but only because I lost the first one...). Did I work on the fundraiser project for the Shul? No. One of the many baby garments I've promised? Nope. On P's surprise? Or L's? Or... anything other than Clapotis?

No.

I spent aaaaall day working on Clapotis. It's a very addictive knit and the yarn keeps singing it's siren song to me. I did actually detach myself (rather forcefully) 3 times from its side - to bake molassas-ginger cookies for the family (maybe a dozen left at this point), make dinner for those of us who would/ could eat (Mum's on antibiotics and won't eat anything that's not rice or yoghurt), and to make something for us to bring to the Shul's potluck tomorrow.

By 11, when I my neck was screaming and my fingers whining, I had achieved thus much:


I am past the first dropped stitch! Maybe 20% thru. Possibly. I have no clue, and I'm not doing any more math tonight (I did make some progress on my sweater formula).

This afternoon, whilst watching something on TV I realised that every single knitting project I was working on is machine-washable. It made me pause. I've worked with fiddly wool and alpaca and silk for so long that this fact actually shocked me. Strangely, every project is made of either superwash, superwash-nylon, or a cotton-poly blend. Hm. Very modern.

I think I'm gonna need to spin some fussy wool, to tide this phase over.

Don't get me wrong, I love superwash. It's soft and supple and doesn't felt (or pill, really). But there is something so satisfying and ancient about regular wool. Or alpaca.

Maybe it's also the fact that we used to have to be so careful with woollen knits. You would never throw a handknit, shetland sweater in the washing machine. But, if it's made of superwash you can treat it just like your store bought clothes.

Garment nullification? Does superwash make us less appreciative of handknits, or not?

I don't know.

For me, it is gratifying to know that humans will probably never fully stray from traditional woollens. Maybe it's the centuries of work that went into breeding sheep that would produce fine fleeces. Or the fact that fine woollens are comforting to touch and hold for many people, likely most people in this world.

Or, it could be possible that I am sleep-deprived and a just little bit crazy.

And now I shall leave you with 2 things:
Knitty's archives are finally (weeps with joy) updated, with the release of the Winter issue. I'm not even going to look at the patterns, I don't dare. Really.
and...

fyberduck will have to write: I will not refer to my parents as the parental units 'What will you have to write on the chalk board?' at QuizGalaxy.com