What I haven't been doing and why

Oh jeez. I'm falling b e h i n d...

I should be spinning, recording, e-mailing, working, but instead I've been nursing a staph infection (which made nursing a fiery hell) and doing my best impression of a single mom while k.ad packed a little lunch skipped off to jury duty each day, so excited he finally got picked for a trial, a smile on his justice-doling face.

But everything is square now, no staph, nipples good, jury verdict. Now I spin.

Space for silence

A glimpse into my schedule, a shot in the head:

Lots of people ask how I get all my spinning done with 2 lil'uns running amok, all home-schooled and free-spirited. It's easy, my children are very dirty, like monstrously dirty. Dirty faces, filthy clothes, hair like rats nests, it's shameful, really. All the time that people usually spend cleaning their children, teaching them good hygiene, I use it to spin.

Heh. Okay, if you know me, you know that's not totally true, though LB is often known to bellow from the shared bedroom I don't have any *skivs or I'm out of socks again, but mostly we're pretty clean, and if we're not, at least our outer layer of clothes covers up the dirty skivs and socks. How I really get it done is that I work each day from 8am to noon (except thursday and friday when I work from 1pm to 5pm). I also work at night after everyone is in bed, but that's usually felting, dyeing, designing, knitting etc. not actual spinning.

Those 4 hours are my studio time and everyone is pretty good about not interrupting. Occasionally SP will need some nursing time, or LB will need me to untie his knot practicing rope, but generally it's just me, up here, carding, treadling, skeining, and watching/listening. Herein lies the problem, I think, with my headpace, or lack of headspace. Or at least part of the problem. Spinning used to be this solitary, silent, thoughtful time for me and lately I bombard myself with media while I spin. I watch netflix, I listen to books on CD, I divert my mind, never giving it a moment of peace.

I've been feeling a bit scattered, lost in myself, crammed up, jammed up, short tempered, lacking patience, tapped. I don't know if the 2 things are connected, this crammed feeling and the media jacked into my brain, but I'm guessing that if one isn't the cause of the other, one could at least start to alleviate the other.

So I'm starting slowly and for every 4 hours chunk of time that I spin I'll have silence for 30 minutes of it.

I know 30 minutes may sound like nothing but I can't go cold turkey, and I wouldn't want to. I enjoy the books, the netflix, but I don't think it's good to never have a moment of thoughtful peace, quiet, meditation. So here begins the space in my head experiment. We'll see if 30 minutes of no input is able to carve out a little niche in my mind, loosen thing up in there, give things a little more space to move around, mingle, meet other parts of my brain that been to tightly packed for too long. Who knows, I might come out of this with the patience of a Saint and some awesomely creative yarn!

*unders, underwear, skivvies, drawers, knicker-knackers, cheesecloth for the twig and berries etc.

head space

My last post got me thinking. Well, first I was thinking, then I posted, and then I thought about thinking and how I can't seem to stop doing it lately and how I don't really put much of it here, on my blog.

I never wanted my blog to turn into a place that was just about my business, just about selling yarns or whatever. I'm super vigilant about it in my podcast, it seems so cheap to use entertainment to sell people stuff. Who wants to listen to a podcast or read a blog that's constantly trying to separate you from you money, or convince you how great some product (or producer) is? Not me. In fact, there's a podcast I don't listen to because it listens exactly like that, one long ad and ego boost. But never mind that, I digress. It's not that I don't think I should post about Insubordiknit, I mean, it is what keeps food on our forks and us one step ahead of the bankruptcy lawyer, but there needs to be a balance, right? Something maybe in the area of 10% shop talk? However, when life gets so crazy and busy that I can't see straight, much less spit a coherent sentence into my computer, shop talk takes over and I become boring, one dimensional. That or I become closed-mouthed, not blogging at all because all I'm doing is working and I feel bad posting about the shop so I don't even post about the wonderful spinning I'm doing for fear it'll come off like I'm trying to sell sell sell.

So here's me trying to get back a few other dimensions, some meatier posts. I've been able to bring back a little knitting action but this blog is dangerously low on the personal. Do y'all even know me anymore? Heh. The truth is, I feel a bit like I don't know myself lately. Maybe this will help. My goal:

-- a personal (dear diary-ish) post a week, just so I can get back in my head, make a little room in there for me.

-- a knitting post each week, after all this is a knitting blog, yo.

-- a spinning post each week, cause it doesn't always have to be about selling the yarn, sometimes I just wanna talk about spinning.

wow, that's three posts a week! Can I do it? Let's see.

Gawker

really, how strange is this -- my eyeballs in gawker?

that picture is from my site, here!

and life just gets stranger and stranger.

What I used to did.

Do you know what I did before I did what I do now? Do you? Let me tell ya. My life's work has gone like this--
waitress
waitress
waitress
and then all the sudden...woodworker!
and then all the sudden...woolsmith (that's my fancy word for what I do now).

Yeah, before I sat my pink bum down in the spinning chair, I built furniture (hence the woodworker's crack over there). I know, right? Weird. It started innocently enough - when I was twenty-five years old and I was five months pregnant, I made ol’ Crazy Pete. At the time, my belly barely rounded but I wrapped my arm around it like it was the weight, or the jewel, of the world. K.ad was out of town for the weekend and I was feeling alone, a bit co-dependently lost, and what-do-I-do-now when I noticed, for the gazillionth time, that the bathroom door was held open by a rusty pair of needle nose pliers that had been wedged between it and the floor. This makeshift doorstop was put in place to keep the out-of-plumb door from swinging open and settling somewhere around the middle of its trajectory. Aside from shakily and unattractively doing its job, it had gouged a hole in the already slightly dingy linoleum. I decided, in all my pregnant glory, to do something about it. With that decision I became a woodworker.

Ol’ Crazy Pete was what I named the piece I made that day, although I wasn’t calling them pieces yet. He was a wooden wedge about five inches long with a spiky, red haired-head cut into the non-tapering end so that when placed under the door, you could see the two faces, one coming and the other going. I made it out of an old piece of two-by-four stud that I found in the garage, nothing fancy. I carefully cut it with a jigsaw (after I figured out how to use it – kind of), sanded it by hand, and painted it with acrylic paint. I painted red and blue spirals where eyes would normally go and named it Ol' Crazy Pete.

It didn’t feel like art, it felt like some home improvement crafty project. I wasn’t creating, I was stretching my new homeowner muscles. But this was the first time I'd done anything artistic and I ate it up. By the end of that week I had made five more doorstops. By the end of the month, fifteen -- plus I had started carving tiny features in their tiny faces. I started to feel a bit more confident, artistic, and creative. I decided to call myself carveGirl, build a website and start selling doorstops. However, after the first 40 doorstops, I never wanted to look at a doorstop again, much less make one. I moved on to bookends and light-switch plates -- from there, on to kids toys, mirrors, and tables, learning as I went and loving every new project. With each bit of woodworking I did, a little bit more of the artist hiding inside me came out. Had I not been pregnant, my artistic side would have been forever confined to wistful, rainy-day musings done mostly while staring out of trendy coffee shop windows furtively glancing at hip art students with paint and plaster on their worn dickies. Secretly hating.

I don't really have pictures of many of these projects, though when I discovered fiber and decided it was my true love, I kept a few pieces for, you know, posterity, or something. I sold lots of this stuff, never enough to support us, but enough to make me feel like I was doing something cool. I even got one large job, designing and making the coffee tables for a local coffeeshop. K.ad (which is what bill is going by now, in case you didn't know) and I did it together, him building the bases, me doing the tops. They turned out really well, something I'm still proud of.

So there were 7, I think. Each had some warpy version of something they sold at the shop (herbal tea, coffee, espresso, cap, baked goods...) and along the curve of the item I routed a shape and filled it with coffee beans or herbal tea and epoxy. The shop loved them! The customers loved them as well, as least judging by the number of people that wanted us to make the exact same tables for our own home. Yeah, I thought it a bit strange too. We filled a few of the orders because we needed the money, some were diner style tables, some were coffee tables (like the one below) but everyone wanted the same coffee theme. I was so sick of coffee and woodworking by the time fiber saved me.

My point in telling you all this? Well, I've updated the shop but it's a light update. The reason? Bill has been locked in the art room all week covered in wood dust and old memories, working on some carved signs for our favorite local indie bookstore. They look awesome but man, so much time! All week it's been me and the kids and I'm exhausted.

With all the woodworking going on around here, it will be the first of the year until my brand new awesome new product will be in the shop. It'll be worth the wait, I feel sure.

Also, if you read this far, the winner for the first week of happy holiday free yarn is number 28! Rae who came this way via the Rav. You, my gal, get to pick any yarn you'd like. It need not be from this update, hold on to that free yarn card as long as you like and when you see something that strikes your fancy, gimme a holla!

As for the rest of you -- this is the post for the 2nd week of happy holiday free yarn. I'll take comments until Tuesday, get the Boy Boggs to pick a number and announce it Tuesday night! Happy holidays.

Sick.

Bah. Sickness has descended on me and mine. My head is filled with cotton, snotton, and pain. For everyone waiting on an e-mail, yarn, etc. please be patient, it will come. The podcast is almost done, I've got a bit more to record but have to wait until my voice doesn't sound like a 70 year old smoking man with a stuffy nose.

As for the update tonight, i'll try to get it done but it may be tomorrow night instead. However, make sure and come back as I've got a rockin' new product that's (hopefully) going to knock your hand knit socks way off!

Holiday swapping

Yeah, well duh. Handmade is always better! However, since I'm flat busted (it seems to be going around these days), I can't afford to buy much! So that's where I take a page from some other very smart and savvy internetians and say, hey, wanna swap? Really, let's help each other! I can't afford much and kids only want so many handknitted items in their stocking -- but I can make some stuff, and we can swap! I can swap handpainted wool, handspun yarn and knit kits (take a look at the shop and some other odds and end. What I need is cool gifties for my almost 6 year old and my almost 1 year old and my super-awesome partner, k.Adventure. Some things I'd really like are:

-art! art! art! art! I love and need art! the partner and the boy love it too!
-handknit mittens for my boy and girl (i don't have time, drat)
-handmade or handprinted clothes for all three
-handmade pottery
-wooden toys for the babe
-toys for the boy
-a gocco! . I so want to get the boy and the man one of these, I think they'd love it! anyone got a spare one around, heh.
-dangerous book for boys
the list goes on and on...

the only think I don't need is yarn and fiber, everything else is fair game.

what cha got?

The lynch that stole x-mas

I know it's short notice, but you're fly-by-the-seat spontaneous types, right? So if you're in the Baltimore area, stop by tonight as Save vs. Poison turns that holiday frown upside down by presenting The Lynch Who Stole Xmas party. That’s right, put on that Agent Cooper trenchcoat, wrap yourself in plastic, or rot some teeth out, and come down to the Hamilton Art Collective for one wacky celebration of all things Lynch.

Party starts at 8:00 with an hour’s worth of free PBR, in honor of Blue Velvet’s Frank. Music begins around 8:30 with the soothing sounds of the slow club (2/5th of GunWife Gone), followed by local insanity-provokers Puddle. Up next is the entity known as OFM, bringing their special blend of mind-bending psychotropic space rock. The evening’s entertainment ends with a Dune mini-opera by Bene Gesserit Witch: that’s right, a mini-rock opera about Dune.

Seriously, you should go, if not just to tell Bill what a freaking cool flyer that is -- can you identify everything lynchian in the Mangeresque scene? There's at least 11 with the setting counting as one. If a person could, I might have a prize for them...

I won't be there, though if I did go LB would be dressed in a tiny red suit, me as the log lady and sweetpea would be rocked out as the log in my arms.

Have fun!

Another request:podcast

I want you leave me a quick message answering a very few questions about yourself. There's two or three ways you can do it -- on is with the internal (or external for the fancy-pants among us) and the other is with any old telephone device, landline or cell-variety.

To leave it with your computer go here, to Odeo and follow the simple instructions, 2 clicks and your there! Or record it using your own software (garageband, audacity) and send it to me as an .wav or .aif file, uncompressed.

To leave it via phone, call 206-339-9155 and, you know, speak at the beep.

Here's what I'm asking:

Name
city, state or country
age(or decade if you're not comfortable with the age)
job/
knitting/crocheting for ____ years
last/current project worked:

you're welcome to spice it up if your so inclined, you know be yourself! here's some examples:

Hi! I'm jacey boggs, from Baltimore Maryland. I'm 32. I'm a yarn spinner and a mother of two. I've been knitting 4 years and the right now I'm knitting knitty's Vestee for my 9 month old out of copper Zephyr.

Hello, I'm Shirly Tadpole and I'm from the tiny town of Polehead, Iowa. I'm 19, a student at Polehead University studying the lifespan of turtle flies. I've been knitting for 2 months and right now I'm knitting a scarf out of redheart, because it's all I can afford.

So that's what I need folks. I'd like to have 3 or so, but if by some miracle I get more, they'll show up in future shows!

Please help. Take a moment to call in. Really, it shouldn't take more than 30 seconds! In fact, i think ODEO only records 30 seconds each time! It doesn't have to be fancy or professions, it's all about showing the variety of real people that knit!

Please.

Liberation

If nothing else, even if it puts me in the poor house, my new computer was worth it just for this (mac photobooth)! LB and I spend way too much time taking hideous, hilarious pictures of ourselves. We see who can make pictures that look the least like us and who can make the most unattractive pictures. And if ever I was a vain girl, here's me getting past it, the height of going out without the proverbial makeup -- me, hoping that you all know that it's what's on the inside that counts. Heh. I crack up everytime I look at these, hopefully they can bring a little joy to you. If you want them full-page, click on the mosaic, 'cause really, the bigger they are, the better!

It's so pretty I want to puke

I'm sitting here, in my studio, in front of the biggest, shiniest, fastest computer I've ever seen. And also, I want to puke.

I had to do it. What else was I going to do? My shop is it, it's our whole support system, it pays all the bills, I couldn't not get a new computer. Right? We took mine in, right up to the mall with the sterile mac store with all their hipster clerks in their super cool clothes and fancy gadgets and portable register-thing-a-ma-jigs, and I swear they snickered when I came in with my powerbook held together by electrical tape and human will. Snickered behind their manicured hands with their cool leather throng bracelets. High gloss bastards. My dead computer, the one that was so fancy and pretty only 5 years ago? They informed us, in a tone that spoke at once of their sympathy for me, and of their glee for me that I'd finally be able to experience state-of-the-art now that my old vintage piece of crap wouldn't be cluttering up my (14.99 IKEA desk). Oh, yes, it's vintage, officially classified. That's what they said, those computers are classified as vintage and we don't work on them any more.

And so what could I do? Nothing. I had to buy a new one. I wanted a laptop but a work-usable one was at least $1500 and that was one with a screen the size of pipsqueak, the really good laptops were 3k or more. So I got a desktop. As good as the high-end laptops for the low-end desktop price. It wiped out all my cushion-money. I walked out of the black and white store wanting to vomit, just not all over my brand new i-mac with it's 20" screen, I didn't want to vomit on that, over to the side of that, or maybe in the other room so that I wouldn't have to look at it or smell it while I'm sitting in front of the coolest computer ever!

Yes, I love my computer. I went from having a 30G hard drive to having a 250G hard drive. 250! Plus, it's got that fancy camera that lets me take funny pictures of myself while I'm typing. Plus, you know, it's new. A new computer always feels like such a fresh start. Like you get to start anew. You can make all those promises to yourself and it that you won't clutter it up, you'll keep it organized, you won't save stuff to random folders, you won't let your desktop get so covered in jpgs and docs that you can't see your cool randominzing-desktop picture (which is a bunch of funny pictures of the family taken by the computers internal camera). Yes, a new computer is better than a new haircut, or a new bookshelf, or a new boyfriend.

It may even inspire some more regular updating, but not this week, this week I've got over 20 eyeball yarns to finish.

Computer woes

Update from the planet of broken computers, yes, after months of death rattles, it seems to have finally succumbed and gone to the big laptop junkyarn in the sky.

The biggest issue I face right now is gaining access to my e-mail (which resides on my computer) so that i can ship all the yarn that's ready to go out -- the names/addresses/orders are in my e-mail folders. So, if you're waiting for something from me, I'm so sorry, please be patient, I'll try to get this sorted out tomorrow or the next day and get your yarn to you as soon as computerly possible. bah.

Let me tell you, if computers do ever rise up and attempt a hostile takeover (which I fully expect to happen in my lifetime), with all the curses I've hurled at mine for the last 2.5 days, they're gonna take me down right after Steve Jobs and bill gates. blarmy.

Avett Love

With baby in sling and boy in tow, we ventured this evening out to an in-store. For those of you not familiar with this musical resource, it's when a band plays a truncated set inside a record store for a small crowd. This usually occurs when they're in town for a bigger show. If the music is right, this can be great for small children, you know, if there's not too many. Well, really, if there's just mine. Heh. He even sang along and everyone thought it was so adorable.

So tonight it was The Avett Bros. . If you've not heard this band, hear them now. I insist. Really. Better yet, go see them. They will change your life, at least for a little while.

They play LB's 2nd favorite song (die die die) -- his first is The wayward wind by Tex Ritter, which is what I told Scott Avett, to which he replied yeah, i don't blame him, my favorite song is probably by tex ritter, too.

But outside of being the band that plays my 5 year old's favorite song, they are, perhaps, the very best band in the world. Yes. In. The. World. And I do not say this lightly. My other favorite musical talents includes the likes of Tom Waits and Blake Schwarzenbach so you get the idea. When I say the best, it's not the best of some junk.

It's only 3 guys. Two brothers and a bass player. But they fill a stage, a room, a soul. They love it so much, you can see it in everything they do, each word they sing and each note the play. They capture everything I feel, they capture everything I want to feel, they're just that. freaking. good. I gush. I leave from listening to them just a little bit more in love with my partner, my kids, the world. Totally happy. We drive home all 'aglow, all 'alight. Yet I feel this strange feeling in my stomach, this panicky pit, because I want to feel this good all the time and I get all itchy trying to hold on to it, this feeling. This good feeling.

I don't know how to explain it, I'm probably doing a poor job, sounding like a cheese-girl fan. Have you felt it? That feeling that makes you mill around a stage even after you know the band is long gone? Just mill around because you don't know what else to do, you don't want to let it go.

I told my partner all of this on the way home and could tell he felt similarly. The conversation went something like this --

Jacey: I don't want to stop feeling like this. I wish we could see them all the time, or you know, invite them to dinner or something...
Bill: Let's move to NC so we can be near them...
Jacey: Okay.

oh, and Seth Avett gave LB the show pic at the end of the set.

Good reads

I may have to abandon my blog for this. It satisfies so many parts of me, the reader, the organizer...okay, it satisfies two parts of me. They're very important parts though. Sign up! Read! Organize! Review!

the book in my head

So, like everyone and his sister, I want to write a book. Correction: I am writing a book. Correction: I am spinning a book. Well, in this fantastic world that exists in my head it's a book, in the real world, it's just a girl with an idea, an attitude, and a wheel.

It's been on my mind ever since the segment Inspirational Spinning (on my podcast) was so fun and popular. If you don't know what I'm talking about, get yourself to the podcast page and give 'er a listen.

The idea is this -- a big coffee table art book featuring big, bold, beautiful pictures of my yarns with a facing page essay/prose pieces exploring the topic and the spinning procedure used/invented to convey the topic into the accompanying yarn. My best example of this is from episode #2 -- trickle down economics (which, actually, has already been adapted and will be appearing, yarn and essay, in Pluckyfluff's new book), or even episode #1 -- shark attack, except the pieces will be less conversational and more uh...read-y. heh. Each yarn and essay will be an exploration into a topic, however broad or specific. Here's a tiny example of ideas/yarns/essays I've been working on:

the life of a mosquito
castro
industrial revolution
lead poisoning
trepenation
the bunyip
the panama canal
hatshepsut
c sections

yeah, as you can see, the list is super varied. That's why I'm thinking it would make a great coffee table book, full of super cool arty pictures of fiber and interesting facts about a huge variety of off the wall subjects -- who wouldn't want it on their coffee table (besides my mum)?

Bill and I have been working on this together, he's a superior writer, not that I'm a total slouch, but he's actually been employed in the field, that and editing, so the essays will be a bit more than me hemming and hawing.

Yeah, so that's the book I'm envisioning/writing/spinning. It's the book I want to have on my coffee table, or at least the tin-foil wrapped plywood on cinderblocks we call a coffetable.

Anyone want to publish it?

Also, nobody steal my idea, okay? If you do, I'll be forced to step on your toe.

Absence.

This is what I've been doing. Or at least some of what I've been doing. I'm in love with my new batch of yarns. In freaking love. I love them so much I've made 2 of them -- vitreous humor (the eyeball freakshow) and tomato vine -- unlimited editions, standards, regulars and so on. Yep, I adore these 2 yarns with so much that I don't mind spinning lots of them, in fact, I love spinning them!

Also, my parents were here. It was a lovely visit. I sometimes forget, no, strike that, I never forget but I sometimes forget to mention, how lucky I am when it comes to folks. Supportive, understanding, helpful, loving, fun...the list goes on and on. My mom flew out, my pop rode out, and then my mother, brave woman that she is, donned her leather chaps and sat sissy bar on the back of my pop's harley for 20 hours. Motorcycle mama. Really. Literally. Anyway, the visit was wonderful. Here's a pic right before they roared off, also a pic of baby bum because I just couldn't resist.

But the real reason I haven't blogged? It weighs a ton. One of my favorite people and very good friend lost her husband suddenly. It was surprising and tragic and terrible and really something I didn't feel right blogging about. I know, I know, I'm doing it know, right? Well, I'm only making mention of it as an explanation. It felt wrong to sandwich it in between a yarn raffle drawing and you know, pictures of my hairy toes or something. So instead of blogging about it, or not blogging about it, I just didn't blog. It's one of those things where I was afraid if I blogged about it, I'd get all kinds of condolences to me etc, which while nice and heartfelt, I'm sure, leaves me feeling a bit like I've appropriated someone else's grief for blogging fodder or whatever. Even though we all grieve when something like this happens, this wasn't mine, and making it so felt like exploitation. You know? I'm not sure I'm making sense, even to myself. My point is that this thing was bigger than my blog (not that it doesn't fit on someone's blog) and it just didn't feel right to me... and yet here I am going on and on. Bah.

But my friend? I love her. She rocks. It's funny and ironic, about 2 weeks before this happened her and I were estranged (heavily) for almost 3 years. Not a word. My heart broke with our friendship, another thing I didn't blog about. But then we connected. And for me it's as if our friendship was on vacation for 3 years and now it's back but nothing has really changed except there's some new tan lines and some pictures to catch up on. I'm thankful.

Podcast phone number

Oh, I fogot. If you don't have a mic, you can record your piece via the phone-ity phone. Yep, to call my podcast number, dial 206-203-4211 and start yappin'. The file gets sent to my computer and I'll take it from there. Don't worry about getting it all in one take or getting it perfect, I can edit quite a bit, in fact, I'm an editing fool!

OFM, baltimore unsigned

OFM, bill's musical endeavor, is live on WTMD (89.7 baltimore) tonight at 8pm! Interviewed and live music. Listen, either on your dial, in your car, or live on the website. They're tons of fun, cute as buttons, and there's a six-legged unicorn that sometimes shows up.

A look inside

I’ve been thinking a lot about myself. Honestly, I don’t think enough people spend enough time doing this. Wait, I don’t mean thinking about yourself in the selfish, self-involved Ayn rand kinda way. I mean taking often, honest looks at my interior. Specifically, lately, me as a friend. I’ve never surrounded myself, or been surrounded (because maybe it’s not my choice, but rather just me) by lots of friends. I’ve always had lots of acquaintances, lots of people who you casually call friends but usually only one or two real friends (this difference may be best illustrated if you picture the friend as sick, the former I might give soup, the latter – a kidney). Yeah, when I have a friend, I take it seriously. I’m there for my friend.

Or I used to be. I’m not sure where I am now. I might be avoiding friendships. Well, not really avoiding, maybe just not seeking, not working at, not uh, cultivating. That’s not to say I don’t have some good friends right now, I do. And if you're reading this and we're friends, please don't take this personally, I'm speaking more to myself in the sweeping, historical sense. I do indeed have people I love. People that I can count on, people I’m comfortable with, people with whom I have good conversations and shared clothing. But it’s different than it used to be. Or maybe I’m different than I used to be. Maybe I’m flakier, or fakier, or busier, or jaded-ier. Maybe I erect barriers I used to try to knock down in others. Maybe it's symptomatic of growing up, having kids, being busy, the internet, locking my door at night...I don’t know. But I know I miss thinking of myself as a good friend. Or maybe I just miss the idea of thinking of myself as a good friend. Hell, I don’t know. I spend most of my time with my family. I don't hang out with others often. I think I want to see other people, but when it comes to it for real, I lose the drive. I take comfort in my house, my kids, my partner. People used to think of me as intense, too intense, in fact. They said I scared them or others with my intensity. I was too much. Was too much and expected too much. Now I fear I’m not enough.

I guess it’s just been a while since I’ve let myself really delve into a friendship and I wonder if I still know how.

It's late, and like I said, I've been thinking about myself a lot.

The seaweed of human kindness

Hmmm...so far, nobody has guessed the A-list knitter that's used my yarn. Come on folks, I'm giving yarn away! Fifteen comment guesses and 32 e-mail guesses. I'm guessing those 32 didn't want anyone stealing their answer on the off-chance it was correct. It was not. Heh. I'm giving a Monter hat kit away to the first person to get it right, iff'n that ever comes to pass. Yo.

How about another hint. She goes by more than 2 names. Come on, I can't make my hint too straight forward. And Sarah, no, you can't guess. I'll have to think of another question for you...what cut of underwear do I like best...heh. edit -- yay! we have a winner!

As we were driving around today, enjoying the medium-reliability and frequent stalls of our free craigslist vanagan (the prius is in our past, in the past of people that scrape by without a timeclock or insurance), I starting thinking about how lately, my opinion of people has greatly improved. I mean, I've seen kindness lately, lots of it. Even had it directed at me. For so long I've missed it, discounted it, started to Disbelieve. Been blinded by the Big Bads. I've thrown my hope behind the potential of the wee ones, only. I mean, I really do naively, and with fervor, believe in the limitless potential of the babies. I can turn a blind non-pc eye to the unlevel playing field, history, et all, and know that any kid can do anything. Such is youth, or my view of it.

I lay, sweat-belly to sweet-belly, under the fan, in the heat, nursing Sweetpea, and am filled with such awe, such great happiness at the world spreading out before her, and her chance to blossom into the world, growing and even, maybe, taking it along with her.

Until recently, that wonderful feeling didn't extend to anyone past puberty, adults were immune to my hopefulness. It quietly slipped away like scabs on scraped knees when grime under the nails becomes, not a vestige of a happy and outdoorsy youth, but just gross. Lately, however, I've been on the business end of such unsolicited Kindness. It warms me. Makes me reevaluate my view on people. Makes me think there is hope for my little ones even after their voices drop and hair appears. Maybe them turning into adults doesn't have to take away hope. For that, even more than the yarn, the seaweed, the business, the praise, the sling, the toys, the money, the comments, the flowers, the notes and cards...even more than all of those things, for the hope your kindness brings me, thanks so much.

Oh, Bill, perhaps, broke his coccyx. While playing a show at BikeJam this past weekend, with the youthful charm of a 20 year old (and the subsequent grace of one, as well) he took a tumble off the 18-wheeler stage and landed directly on his hind-end. It hurts when he walks.

Here's a shot of all the delicious seaweed, chopsticks and other goodies that arrived at my doorstep from a reader in Japan. I love seaweed, can you tell? I eat it while Bill walks funny around the house.

what do you mean, funny tasting?

Words you never want to hear from your five year old --

(Little bit) mom, have you brushed your teeth since the last time I brushed my teeth?

(me) ummm...I'm not sure...probably

(Little bit) did you notice anything funny tasting?

(me) what?

(Little bit) heeeheee...i played a little trick on you...

(picture is morning reading in nightclothes)

In better news, my swapping has been freaking superb lately! Look at the goods, modeled by our lovely Sweet Pea, looking smashing in her new 12 week old self --

Amazing handpainted yarn from See Jayne knit. I picked out this lovely colorway -- paprika, and plan on making a lightweight clapotis (even though I loathed the knitting of the first, I love the wearing of it). She also sent an extra skein that makes my heart go pitter patter. Love her!

Recognize this cool-as-teet book? You may have seen something like it on HGTV! It's from the madwoman in the attic. She makes the most fantastic hand bound books. I'm using this journal as an everything book --

dye notebook, knitting, thoughts, menus, etc. I've always had trouble keeping up a journal, afraid to write things down or something, afraid to make them real, or permanent, or like recording fleeting feelings made them forever, like my kids would find the book when I was dead and think I was fickle, or silly, or mean. Anyway, I'm just doing it this time, everything. At least I'm going to try.

Raw from the weekend

What a weekend! On top of Bill having 4 shows this week, 3 of which were between thursday and saturday, we also had the fairy festival, the baltimore kinetics race, and the maryland sheep and wool festival! My feet feel life aching logs of lead, but my heart is light and happy.

I know that MS&W is all you care about so for those of you that aren't in the tri-state area, or are but didn't attend because you're, I dunno, crazy like a fox, lemme tell you, it rocked! We got there early and stayed all day. Amazingly, I came away with only the tiniest of bags, but everything was beautiful. I suppose it's not so amazing I didn't have a huge haul, it's not as if any of my suppliers were there and I just don't know where all that roving came from, you know? So I keep myself to the cellulose fibers at festivals, but even that took the light load this year. I wanted some uncarded soysilk but nobody had any. Damn. But I did restock my dyes, and finally found a bright pink. Lanaset dyes don't come in a bright pink. There's magenta but it's not bright, and can't be mixed to be bright, so next week I hope you'll see some bright pink around these parts!

We hung out at the auction barn for a good two hours but sadly didn't walk away with anything we wanted -- strauch jumbo winder or one of the many looms (because I've got so much time to learn to weave, right?).

The strangest bit about the whole affair was that I got recognized! Yep. By the end of the day no fewer than 6 people had approached me, most with kind exclamations about my blog, my yarn, or my podcast. It was weird. And I must admit, kinda cool. I mean, it was 6 people, not 100 people, heck, not even 10 people, but still, cool. All in all it made me feel good and strange that there are people out there that know who I am.

Ohh, other news -- I'm raw! No, not thanks to anything juicy, jeez...dirty much? Raw, like in the food department. I decided to do a little raw foods cleanse, get my glow back and all that hoohaw (not to mention maybe be able to wear something other than my freaking maternity pants with the big black belly panel). On Monday it will be a week! I'm just getting into the groove of it, here's what I made for dinner. Carrot adn pecan patties (dehydrated) with orange curry sauce, seaweed salad, and blackberries. The patties were good but not great, the curry was great, the blackberries were fruity, and the seaweed salad -- I could live off of that stuff!

Tomorrow -- raw chili!

3.5 hours left!

Only 3.5 more hours until the raffle drawing and the yarn club membership spots go on sale! I'm getting excited to see who wins the raffle! There's 400 raffle numbers floating around out there! If it hits 450 I'll give the 450th ticket holder a free monster hat kit, if it doesn't hit 450, I'll draw a second raffle ticket number and give that person a free monster hat kit!

Stay tuned!

Raffle update/rubbed dusty

Oh, Quick before I'm couch bound and mound exposed (a stretched expression for breastfeeding for the sake of a rhyme, jeez I'm desperate). Only 2 days remain until the raffle drawing! Have you bought your ticket yet? Lots of people have! It's very exciting. With each new ticket I get excited to see who will win.

Anyway, raffle tickets can be purchased until 6pm eastern on Sunday, the 15th. For those of you wanting spots in the club other than the raffle-y one, have your mouse buttons ready, I've already gotten e-mails from people requesting spots that number more than allotted, and I hold a spot for no knitter, fair girl that I am.

And to go along with it, a new update day -- Sundays. I like to switch it up occasionally to minimize the e-mails exclaiming friday as a work night, or a date night, or whatever and so yarns are missed, sadly. So Sunday, and I've got a load.

And since my knitting has been so slow, given the mound exposing, my next post (besides the raffle-drawing) is going to be about my last career, as a woodworker/massage therapist, because people loved to be rubbed by a sawdusty tattooed anarchist!

Hair cares

I tried. I really freakin' tried. And like time and time again, I failed, failed, failed. My hair will never be long and luxurious, not to mentioned pigtailed. Nope. It gets to the point it was at, about shoulder length, and I start to twitch, then the scissors and clippers come out, and I've got this same old haircut (mostly because it's the only one I can do on my own). My mom says it looks best on me, something about my chin and neck, or something. Bill thinks it's cute. I appreciate the ease of it, what about you (and yes, I know that it's violating like the first rule of blogging -- never ask your readers a direct question about, of all things, you freakin' hairstyle.

Also, I've been sick, more when I'm all recovered. I've got at least 2, maybe 3 rows of knitting to show you!

WWmycomputerD

My long absence was not, sadly, caused by a sweet smelling dewy faced babe, but instead due to Collapso's death rattle. Collapso, for those of you that don't know, was almost Little Bit's name, now it's the name of my computer and it's the computer that's spent the last 2 months groaning and humming and generally keeping me awake at night, and not because I think about it, but because I can hear the sucker all the way upstairs! So last week, it finally died. Dead. Nothing. Nada. Not good for a a girl who makes her living via the sparking wires stretching across this world.

I was upset. And cut off. I stuck my tongue out at it. I called it mean and nasty names -- asshat, abnormal crapbat, judas. Bill took it apart. Bill made funny things happen on the screen -- strange black screens with yellow words that look like so much gibberish. I cursed. I wrote Collapso on a rock and placed it on it's top like a pathetic little gravemarker. Truth be told, I may have placed it with a little more vigor than required for such a solemn occasion.

And then 3 days later (really)...it came back. Alive. Resurrected. No shit. I'm thinking of changing it's name, something a bit more, I don't know, biblical. Yes, folks, you thought jesus was coming back as a Komodo Dragon, but no, he's taken divine form as a groaning, battered, corner held together with black electrical tape, Mac laptop.

What you thought he'd be a PC? Pish posh.

Generosity unbridled

If I've ever in my life doubted kindness, or lost faith in generosity, or just plain gave up on strangers (or those met on the internet), this past 10 days has gone above and beyond full restoration. Really. I'm standing in a circle of swirling leaves, blown away! This is the pile, PILE, of sock yarn that has arrived at my house from various knitters across the country. All counted there are 52 hanks of yarn, making a whopping 34 pairs of socks! 34 pairs! Before, where I was having trouble knitting socks because I didn't want to use my last hank, now I'm having trouble because I just don't know which yarn to choose fist. Should I grab some vespa yarn, some skeintilly clad, some lornas laces, some fleece artist, some lisa souza, some koigu? These are the problems everyone should have, much nicer than the which bill should I pay this month variety. Thanks everyone. Really.

And then there was the box for Little Bit. Lots and lots of playmobil, lego knitghts, lego racecars and toobers! Yep, it was a hard day at land and sea...

And just in case I gave you the impression that my life is about anything but socks right now, here's Scout's Swag that just came in the mail yesterday, along with the wonderful sock blocker which is currently blocking the swag from scout that came last month. The pattern is Monkey from knitty and it's really wonderful! I should have the 2nd one finished today or tomorrow.

Baby (19 days), birthday (11 days), and FO (customer) news upcoming...

Secrets of a successful birthday

One of my biggest fears as a parent, hell, as an adult, has been kid birthday parties. Yep, I’ve seen and heard the horror stories, screaming grumpy kids, traumatized kids, kids hopped up on white icing and store bought sheet cakes, faces smeared with stickiness and stuck in a kind of screaming scowl. I know the truth, man. And so Little Bit has gone a full 5 years without a party to speak of. I mean, we’ve had special dinners, grandparents, homemade presents, etc. But never ever a party complete with, you know, other kids and stuff. Until this year…

He’s five, and awesome. Seriously, I don’t think I talk enough about how super cool my kid is. How I'm so lucky to get to be around such a rockstar kid. He’s truly marvelous, and one of the reasons I waited so long to have another, I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could, I didn’t want to share him with a sibling, and honestly, I just didn’t think another kid could live up to him. He’s that cool, and funny, and compassionate, and smart. So this amazing child, who walked and talked at 10 months, could read anything by 4.5 years, can dance, sing, and tell a joke like no other, he finally got to have a birthday party. And let me tell you, it rocked!

I was expecting him to want it to be pirate-y or wizard-y, both things he’s been a bit into lately, but now, he wanted a unicorn party. A unicorn party, there was no doubt, that’s what he wanted.

I asked him to help with all the preparations, so he drew a unicorn for the invitations. Is it not the most awesome unicorn ever (that pic at the top is a copy of the original made into a necklace)? Oh geez, I’ve turned into one of those parents haven’t I? Deal with it for one post, okay? Be thankful you don’t know me in person; most people have to deal with it constantly. But really, the unicorn, it kicks ass, right? Bill scanned it and wrote the party info on the body, printed them on construction paper and we sent them out. To our surprise, all most all of the kids/parents LB invited consented to come! He was so excited. We spent a few days making up little party bags for his guests. Which by the end we called our choking hazard bags because they contained so many tiny trinkets. Each of the 10 bags included a super cool marble, a capsule that expands into a sponge bug when put in water, a sparkly poof ball that someone gave mea bunch of for spinning and which I’ll never use for spinning, LB’s unicorn made into a shrinky-dink and hung on a hemp cord for a necklace (and no, I haven’t taken mine off since the party), and a homemade foam unicorn horn-party-hat.

Little Bit handed the bags out as the kids/parents arrived and again, to my surprise, everyone was happy to wear their necklace and unicorn horn.

Oh, and did I mention that it had been raining and chilly for days before and after but the day of his party was 70 and sunny! Yep, we had all the windows open, and the kids played out back on the trampoline and trees.

And the kids, they were fun and gracious, not a single scramble or skirmish. The played and ran and when the cake came out (carrot cake by me, decorations by Bill), they all sat at the table, sang, and polished off that cake! LB beamed. He’s very used to being the center of attention with adults, because he’s around so many all the time, but to be the center of attention of all his friends made him glow. I was so happy for him.

Of course there were presents, but they were thoughtful and creative as well, nothing over the top, no junk, really cool stuff. He got a 100 color sampler pack of fimo clay, which we use often and were almost out of, some super cool books on things he likes, dinosaurs, unicorns, and my favorite – tree houses! a flower press, some playmobil (which is currently his favorite set of toys), a gobbling game, and lots and lots of kid-made art (which is my favorite). There wasn’t’ even any fighting or grabbing during the unwrapping, they did it themselves, handing LB the packages and passing around the presents afterward. Did I mention how cool it was?

Yeah, it pretty much rocked my socks. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that the parents of LB’s friends are as cool as his friends. I had such a great time standing around and chatting with everyone. My good friends came down from NJ with their 3 kids, and it was amazing, as always, to hang with them. We really are so lucky to have such cool people and kids around us, it almost makes up for the ones we love and miss.

So there you have it – the perfect kid party. The secret – cool kids, progressive parents, unicorns, carrot cake, no organized games, and a 70 degree day in the middle of winter.

New Year

It’s almost a new year. How do I feel about that? I’m not totally sure. I don’t feel like I’m ready for 2007. I don’t feel like I can wake up in the morning and start this year the way I’d like to, all happy, rested, energetic, and dammit, mobile. I guess I’m looking forward to the new year, just not the first day of it, because somewhere in my little girl mind, I think the first day needs to be special, indicitive of the next 364. I feel like I should hop out of bed with a new spring in my step but I know that my springy step is hampered by my lumbery form (and too much of a spring might just make this baby fall right out, my uterus is not as young and nubile as it used to be). However, I am looking forward to things that are coming in the new year. For one, this new baby, this new life that’s made so much of 2006 hard, I’m looking forward to that. A few other things as well, my Little Bit turns 5 years old on January 2nd, and he can only get cooler, smarter, and stranger, at least that’s my hope. Bill’s band is doing well and I’m looking forward to that continuing and really becoming something that supports him fully creatively. I’m also looking forward to the knitting of the new year, I wants socks and sweaters and socks and sweaters for all my loved ones, plus some fly baby stuff.

The spinning is, of course, always exciting. What can I come up with for 2007? What will stand out, what direction will this craft take for me? I’ve been consumed lately with how to make this fibery business grow, how to stretch it so that it does a little more supporting and a little less supplementing. I did just add a new brick and mortar shop to my list (though it won’t take effect for a few weeks) however, I know that it’s not really feasible to just spin more, I already spin at close to the limit I can spin daily, several hours. That’s about all my body, creativity, spirit and family can take, add on to that the time it takes to wash, dye, dry, prep, card, update, wind, pack, and send fiber, and it’s already about a full time job. It has to be something else. I hope that I’m on the right track. I’ve got 2 big projects in the works. The first is a rather substantial handdyed/handspun kit -- Bea Arthur. I’ve had several people ask about it and I think it’s a great idea, though it’ll likely lighten the pocketbook a bit for buyers, that’s a LOT of yarn. The other project is even more exciting, but I can’t talk about it for a while, but trust me – super cool if it works out.

So those are the things that have been occupying my mind, at least on the fibery tip. ON the non-fibery side, this year has been pretty great – I spent 10 days in the hospital, almost died, was laid up in bed for 6 weeks, and gained 50 lbs. On the flip side, I got pregnant and you know, didn’t die. Plus I did get to spend it with my amazing family, friends, and you, my online friends.

So I guess really what I want to say before this year is over, besides just what I hope next year brings, is thanks. Thanks to everyone who has showed me kindness and love, thanks to everyone that’s been supportive and instructive, and thanks so every single person that bought/knitted with my yarn, it’s all meant so much and I really do feel quite lucky.

The house that fiber built

Bill's got a temporary 8 week out-of-house-job in an attempt to stave off the impending collapse of our fiber-built house, or at least make sure the Little Bit gets something other than handknits in his handsewn stocking. So it's just the 2 of us right now, during the day. We went to my doctor's today. Just a regular appointment, 10 weeks left, exactly, and everything is perfect minus the little hernia I have above my belly button. I thought it was, you know, that whole pregnancy-belly-button thingy but no, it's a hernia. It only hurts in the evening though, so that's something.

You may have noticed that I switched my shop update day from Monday to Friday nights. I've got good reasons. Two of them, in fact. One is that Bill is home on Monday evening and we all like to hang out and tickle each other, he's got shows on Friday nights so it's a good night for me to have to be on the computer. Reason two is more about me and how I function -- I enjoy going to the post office on Mondays, after a good Sunday spent winding and packing yarns. LB's favorite PO clerk works on Mondays and it's just more pleasent. Friday update just makes more sense, so there you've got it! Friday is the day...er...night.

And in knitting news, I'm officially done with my holiday knitting. Everyone's taken care of except Bill, who'll have to wait until I stumble past the brain block I'm having designing his sweater. It'll get done, it just may be a while. So now I'm moving on to some mindless knitting. I've started my 2nd of scout's swag, they'll be Jaywalkers and they'll be freaking amazing. I've also started a ragtag, junky sweater that's for me to lounge in. Pics upcoming. And while I know you've stopped believing me, I really do almost have a podcast done. For some reason this one has been sooo hard for me, daunting, intimidating. Once I get it behind me I hope to get kinda regular again, but this one has been a monster.

Now I'm off to dye some more wool. And spin some more Monster hats. And hug my very amazing son.

HodgePodge

I've been sick. Not terribly sick, but sick enough to feel justified in complaining. And knitting during the day. And not doing laundry. I'm better now and I've got knitting to show for it, and piles of dirty laundry. Oh, and I also spent all day one day with LB, on the floor, cutting stuff out of magazines for collages. They were my first, pics later. I think everyone may be getting tiny collages for winter holiday, we're all about the homemade around these parts.

I didn't mention that there was a shop update last monday, there was. Only 8 yarns and I think there are 2 left, which is pretty rare. I'm not even sure what to do when there's yarn left over from the week before. Hmm...I also wanted to mention that I do trades. I know it's close to the end of the year when people need money, and while I'm in that boat, I'm also in the boat of wanting your super cool stuff! Heh.
Yeah, so hit me up! I recently did a trade with Nesting Emily for the coolest handthrown pottery -- 3 bowls and a vase-y mug. i loved it! I want to replace all my dishes with artist pottery...someday. So, trade me, I love artist made stuff. I'm particularly interested in pottery, knitting bags, handbound journals, aprons (i really want a cool one), sock yarn, and skills! Yep, I really want a weaver to step up and weave Bill a cool guitar strap as a trade for yarn! So, whatcha got? I've got yarn.

The Pictures are a quick photo strip of our KC trip. My lovely fairy mother, my scary skeleton kid, and a midwestern dance party featuring the tunes of OFM

Return, renew

I'm home! I'm home. And I'm happy to be home. And I was happy to be at my folks. The Little Bit and the Ratty Old Baby and I had a wonderful time. I'm really grateful to have parents that I love and I like being around.

Highlights of the trip --
-Little Bit (LB) got to go on my mom's bus route with her, at least the last one, where he met a new friend who came over to play a few times.
-LB playing pirates with my mom and stopping to take a drink from his water bottle exclaiming ahhh, me loves me rum!.
-My pop taking up all on a surprise day to a big cat sanctuary! Yeah, it was awesome and I've got pictures to prove it!
-Coming home to a finished bathroom! Yes, finally, after 2 years of having a bathroom in various states of unfinished-ness, it's now done. Bill worked his hard little ass off and it's awesome (and fushia)!

Now, I didn't update the shop on Monday because I just couldn't get my baltimore feet back after so long in MO. They'll be one this Monday, for sure. I'm renewed and rejuvenated, you know, except for the times I'm sluggish and must sleep all afternoon. But I'm renewed when it comes to the yarny bits. I took some time organizing my knitting when I returned home. Which, btw, I've got 2 more pairs of Socktoberfest socks to show off -- 4 total, yep! My knitting for the next 2 months of the year is mapped out in all it's insanity. Two sweaters (one is original for Bill, one is going to be a EZ yoke sweater with handspun for LB), a clapotis for my mom (I think...I don't have the yarn yet). And we call them pirates for my pop, who reads this so that all the details I'm putting in here, he'll just have to wait and see. Shew, so as you can see, I've got some knitting to do. Starting.........now!

And spinning. I'm going to try to be better about updates, especially since I'm kinda supporting us now. Did I ever mention that Bill lost his job during my illness due to having to take off for so long (me in the hospital and then bedrest)? Yep, he's been getting unemployement but it's not much and it's about to run out. He's focusing on the band right now, and doing a little freelance web and graphics work, but pretty much, we're sitting on a house built up by fiber. So it you know a brick and mortar shop that needs to stock me, lmk, I could use 2-3 more brick and mortar shops and then I'd be set.

I've decided to really put my all into the spinning. Not that I haven't been, but even more so. I'm only going to sell yarns that I love, no more spinning just to fill the orders, it's all going to be my best or it doesn't get listed. When I started spinning, I didn't think it'd become a business and I want to make sure it stays something I love. I know my yarn is expensive, more than some, not as much as many, but expensive just the same. I try really hard to be fair with the pricing, I don't believe in taking advantage or charging the most I could possibly get.

I could buy super cheap wool. It exists and I know it exists. I also know where to get it and that lots of spinners use it and it's perfectly lovely. However, it's personally important to me that my fibers come from humane sources. I am vegan and have been for over a decade and I just have to know I'm not contributing to any suffering. So I buy my fibers from sanctuaries and small, no-kill farms where the animals are friends, not food. These fibers are more expensive, no $6, $7, $8 per lb here, it's usually more like triple that, depending on the breed and it's usually dirty, even if they're washed. So that means washing and dying and carding. Or sometimes, I'll send it out to be processed into roving, because I like the variety and some yarns call for carded batts and some yarns call for combed roving. So my cost is higher, but it's a cost I think is important. Werd.

Now, let me say that this is not a slam on those that buy from the other places, we're all different and everyone's has things that are important to them, this just happens to be one of mine.

All my cottons are organic as well, human suffering does not come second to animal suffering to me, yo.

I spend time (and am commiting myself to more of this) thinking about each yarn, what it is, what it means to me, how it'll look, how it'll knit up, and how to make it do what I want it to do while keeping it's structural integrity. The more time I spend with a yarn, the more I like it, so each yarn gets a little piece of me.

I really do love the fiber work that I do. It's given me something that I've never had before, peace and satisfaction. I don't feel all itchy, like I'm waiting for my life to happen anymore. I don't have to look for things to fill my time or my brain. It contents me, even the part of me that isn't concerned with fiber or creativity, the part of me that has friends and relationships and a house to clean -- having something I love makes me happier with all those things. Poo poo the drama and dissatisfaction, pick up the wool!

And I'm off...

I leave in 11 hours (that's 5 am for those of you not on my own personal schedule) and I'm still not packed. Yikes. I've been tagging and packing orders like a mad woman, the shop sold out in record time yesterday (even oversold as I sold 5 yarns that were supposed to go to a shop so I had to respin those today) so I've been a bee, busy. Thanks, btw, y'all rock.

I planned on taking my wheel but just don't have time to get all my fibers etc. ready, so instead I'm taking my computer and I WILL get a podcast done (I got the nicest request today.) Oh, and lots of knitting. I'm taking 2 sweaters and 2 pairs of socks to work on...wow, that seems like so much when I type it out, I'm only gone 2 weeks and there is visiting to be done. Hmmm...

If I owe you an e-mail, please bear with me for 2 weeks!

And here's a bit of eyecandy, my third pair of socktoberfest socks (the first was the jaywalkers, the second was the ribby olive/orange ones which I'll post pictures of upon my return). These are my slipped sanity socks, all the color is done by way of slipped stitches, just random, messing around, hence the no-matchy. They're super comfortable and I love them. Yah handknit socks!

Okay, have a great 2 weeks and I'll see ya soon!

I was a video teenage rock chic!

When I first met my partner, Bill, he was in a band in San Diego called Pure Milk. In fact, it this band he was playing with the instant I saw him, all crazy eyed, jumping up and down and belting out angsty lyrics from the stage of The Velvet, Cocain Andy's club at the time, later to be sold, renamed The Crowbar, and made into a haven for less than friendly skinheads. Late 1995, I, not even legal myself, worked the door, checked IDs, and generally acted cooler (and subsequently lonier) than anyone else. I saw lots and lots of bands that year, most of them lost in the sea of crappiness that is a local music scene. His band, however, stood out, but maybe that was because he stood out, to me. From the very date we met it was 2 months exactly before we decided to gamble our young (I was 20, he was 23) futures on each other and hit Las Vegas for a little Merlin-may-you-marry-us.

Early the next year a SDSU student with a thick german accent and 80s rock sensibilities decided Pure Milk was the band for his Senior Thesis: the video. I wish I could find stills of that footage, if you could see anything though all the lazer lights.. I was the girl, all young and fresh, being sung about with such venom and angst and and and, was that barely-covered love? Yes, I think is was.

Hans took it upon himself to write a little backstory into the songstory -- apparently the reason we (the guy in the song and me, the girl) never worked was my social-climbing-whoredome. Yep, the one scene to really show the viewer this facet of my cardboard performance is me gazing longingly into the window of a little clothing boutique, it's shot from the side so you get me, my reflection, and the well-dressed dummies. Mostly I remember Hans saying, in his thick accent "you want to be the dummies, you wish you were just like them...be...wish...the dummies..."

Yeah, good times. Last month it had been 10 years since purple-y clad merlin heard our I DOs. We know live across the country from where that masterpeice was created, Hans is doing and you will know us by our trail of dead videos (probably) and Bill is in a band I wouldn't cringe to be in the video of, except they wouldn't have need of me with all the bikini clad girlies throwing themselves at the stage whle squirting waterbottles down their taut, tan fronts. Anyway, they've got a new myspace page where you, yes you, gentle knitter, can listen to 2 songs and then go out and tell all your friends, or better yet, your crazy powerful, not to distant, record executive relative to give us some money (because we're already having to move our car to a new location around the neighborhood every night so it doesn't get repo'ed. heh).

Check them out!

Lend me your voice!

I'm in need of your voice! Yep, I'm taking a page outta my very favorite podcaster's book (that'd be sage trytle of quirky nomads) and I'm putting together a tiny audio play/essay about my days of woe, aka my time in the hospital. What I need from y'all is a few minutes of your busy day and a few words from your lovely mouths. It's easy, tell me you're interested and I'll assign you a roll, give you your lines (which could be as few as 1 line to as many as 15 lines, I'm going for sparse, short and sweet), give you minimal direction (like, you're tired or you're scared) and you call either call my comment phone line and say your lines into what amounts to a message center that then sends them as mp3s to my computer, or if you're so inclined (or on the cheaper side with the long distance) you can leave me an ODEO message by using the internal mic on your computer (it's also really easy and takes no know-how on your end).

Seriously, it'll be easy and fun. It'll take you no longer than 5 minutes. Really!

After I get all the lines I'll arrange and edit them into my days of woe audio play and you can listen to them in my next podcast!

So, who wants to loan me a line? Come on...

Glossing over the issues

Okay, so I've been a bit overwhelmed with the idea of typing out and telling the whole sordid affair of my days of woe. So while i will do it soon, I need to just jump back back into this blog. So...here I am, and for all those that don't know...PREGNANT! Just a few days into my 2nd trimester.

Look for actual updates to occur more regularly and I'm working on the new podcast, shouldn't be but a few days.

Pit(y) stop

Hey everyone! Look who's still living and breathing! ME! My surgury went well, I was in the hospital a little over a week because I lost quite a bit of blood and they couldn't get my blood pressure or my hemicrit levels up. Since, I have been on bedrest, not that that would usually stop me from knitting, spinning, blogging, and podcasting, but this bedrest has been strictly adhered to due to the pill-induced 24 hour dizziness and nausea. My dear mom came to help out 2 weeks and now that those salad day are over, I hope to be up and around soon and I'll tell the whole story. For now, thanks for the thoughts and well-wishes, I'm sorry I can't look at the screen long enough to reply to each person individually, all the kindness kept me out of the deepest pits of self-indulgent pity and depression.

newsbrief

hi everyone, jacey's partner here.

jacey went into the hospital friday for emergency surgery, hence her absence here in insubordiknitland. she's looking at another week or so of observation there, but is resting and improving daily, and already chomping at the bit to get back home with us to knit, spin, blog, podcast, and her usual much, much more.

Grief

Death, I've a lot of feelings about death. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. A close friend of my family died this past week. Not only a close friend but a close friend's son, the same person actually, just tied in many ways. I imagine the sadness his mother must feel and it hurts me in a place I can't quite name, like that itch that you feel in your back and it never occurs to you that the itch is actually on the back of your knee, the kneepit, so you never scratch there, and you go on itching. That's how I've felt this week, like I can't quite find the place where my sadness starts.

I suppose the place I could look, the most obvious, is simply the loss of a friend's life. The loss of youth. The loss of promise. The loss of his voice. The loss of how the section of his face from right above his lip to to the top of his glasses, looked.

The loss. Of course that's what I'm sad about. But If I look more, I see my own connection as a mother, to lose a child, I can't imagine it. Really, just can't imagine. Sometimes, when Bill is late or I don't know where he is, it takes me less than 2 minutes to run through exactly what I'd do, what I'd sell, who I'd stay with, where I'd move, how I'd make it, the scope of my sadness, which feels devasting, and I'm sure is not even nearly how terrible it would be. It's not that I don't love him. I do, so much, he's been my rock and touchstone for so long now, 10 years. He's put up with being married to a queer girl with lots and lots of quirks, and he loves me. But I can imagine it. I don't like to, but I can. I can not imagine losing my son. Just can't even do it. It's outside my mind, a non-thought. I would be empty. Lost. Perhaps even die. And so my deeper grief is with my friend, the mother of the friend that died. Her, I don't know how she's standing and I guess it's only by virtue of the fact that she has to.

Another conenction for me, one that is less tangible and further back, is my own father, who died when I was just walking. I don't really have grief about that. I never knew him and I ended up with a step-father that taught me so much and whom I love like there was never another. But there was another, and while I don't often think about him, lately I've been thinking about his death. Particularly how his death affected my 24 year old mother, who had me, a 2 year old, and my brother, 9. She also had to keep standing, I don't know how she did it either. And his mother, my grandma chobie, who is actually my grandma Chavela, but I could never say that so grandma chobie is all that she's ever been. She stood, with all of her great sadness. I saw that sadness each summer I went to visit them, everytime she looked at me. A part of her died, she told me. Not the part of her heart that held him, that part flourished, but some of the other parts, they died.

I've been wieghed down by all of this grief lately, their grief. I feel like maybe if I can carry some of it, they can stand, but I don't think it works that way. It's not like lifting a piano, the more people the less each has to bear. Grief is your own, no matter how many people share it, try to take it's burden, it just grows to accomodate. Thankfully, joy is the same way. and love. and memories.

Next up, knitting. I promise.

Family socks

It is on this morning, the day after a terrible, tragic accident that cruely ended something so full of promise and life, that I feel so strongly oriented towards my family. Last night I got the phone call with the news I could sense with the first muttered note. With hand over mouth I mumbled things not even worthy of being said the first time, things incoherent and meaningless. How stupid. How wasteful. Life doesn't know what it's missing. Stupid life. And beautiful. I put down my big, long projects and picked up something small, something less time between beginning and end but with a purpose and use. They match my favorite new shoes that my folks bought me a few weeks back. Fifty percent, meeting in the middle, like a family, with darkness all around. I don't know why that seems relevant. My own family hums in my ear and I weep for a family out there that's one light less.

This morning I wear my family socks, my family shoes and I hold my own boy in my lap, with the sun coming up, thankful...and sad...and joyous.

We're baaack...

Holy hot cakes, the Little Bit and I are home and safe as houses. We stayed a bit longer than I thought we would but the times were so good we didn't want them to end. Really, one of the best visits I've had with my super-rockin folks in a long time. It couldn't have been better. More details about the knitting, lack of spinning, male bonding, and family frolicking in the next day or two, after we catch our breaths and finish up all the left over road-food.

Also, I'm sorry to say that I was a bit rash in saying there'd be a shop update this Monday, ain't no way. I do, however, have all my custom orders done and ready to be sent out, so that's not all together lazilicious. Yeah, so next week, big update. Promise. And soon, news of our trip, pics of knitting, and the woes of an ingrown pubic hair --ouch.

Pretty on the outside...

Behold, Baltimore's newest answer to the neighborhood blight problem. Looks like a normal section of row houses, eh? Ahha! Click on the picture and look closer, my friend. Notice door and (all the) windows of the house in the middle -- the stark whiteness, the spartan cleanliness (come on, whose door doesn't have at least one peanut butter handprint on the door?, whose window not one smudge or old goo from a misplaced sticker?), the sublte reflective quality. What is it you ask? It's a laminate. Yes, a laminate. Maybe it's more obvious on this one. Come on, try a little harder, people. Or perhaps a family of stilt walkers lives there, but only on the first floor. They don't go upstairs, stilts don't work well on stairs, heck, papa stiltwalker tried it last week and damned if his stilt didn't go right through the upstairs hall window, what a mess...

Yes, this is my city, folks. Instead of spending money on programs to rehab, both aestically and internally, instead of putting money into our fucked-up school system, instead of feeding our people, raising minimum wage, helping people have a reason to clean up and then helping them clean up, teaching art, providing safe places for kids while parents work, instead of all of that, our city officials are running all over the city plastering up these laminates on burned out, condemned rowhouses (and there are thousands in this city) to make them look prettier, no matter that it's rotting on the inside.

Beauty industry mentality. Bah. I'm throwing out my lipgloss. Oh wait, no I'm not, I like shiny lips.

But really. Weird isn't it? I've seen several different window styles, some have a nice warm fire showing through the crack in the drapes, some have a dining room set up, B-ill even said he saw one with a kid peeking out.

I admit it makes things look nicer, but it's just so strange.

Such is the world

First, thanks to all the yarn-tester volunteers! I'll be e-mailing soon.

And now something that's been on my mind. The world is full of so many different types of people. While I know that, it's sometimes hard to get my tolerence around it. All in the same month me and my blog have been called too negative, too positive and too bragatocious. Geez. I'm all of that, I suppose, negative (cynical) and hopeful/positive, and even sometimes proud. And while I felt bad after I encountered those opinions, I have to remember that I can't please everyone, sometimes I can't even please anyone.

I love blogging and being a part of a bigger community than I have here in smaltimore, but sometimes it's hard. I can't stop myself from reading people's blogs that don't like me, people tell me stuff, send me e-mails or copies of e-mails, I get my feelings hurt, I feel insecure, I feel petty, I feel angry, sometimes I even feel better-than. But all in all, this ride is worth it, I think. And it's good for developement of patience, right?!

There's nobody out there, online or offline, that I don't think well of, at least a little bit -- I think there is good in everyone, I really do. I think there's artistry in everyone. I hope everyone is able to realize their dreams honestly (heh. unless those dreams include the destruction of me, 'cause then I hope you stub your toe on a tree root). I just need to give up on everyone being nice, 'cause they aren't, such is the world, such is blogging.

Yarn and april's fools

Yarn shop is now updated for the week. It's a bit light due to a great big case of the knits but there's 7 new yarns, some with multiple hanks and lotsa yardage, a few simple singles, thinner than normal, and 3 monster hat kits.

Also, in spinny news, I'm coming out with a new kit soonish and need a few test knitters. It's a very easy and quick knit, shouldn't take more than a night or 2 or 3 depending on your speed, I just don't have time to knit the 3 or 4 I'd like to have for photos. Here's how it'll work, you send me an e-mail saying you're interested, I'll send you the yarn and pattern, you knit it and send it back to me within a month (i'll have the dates soon, I've yet to spin the yarn, but will do that this week or next), I'll photograph it for the insert and website then I'll send it back to you as thanks! So you get to keep the knitted object! It'll be between 150-200 yards of crazy handspun. Anyone interested?

Like I said, I'm too busy to knit these sample myself. Why? Because I've got the cabled hoodie on the needles, fronts, back done, joined with a 3-needle bo and the hood picked up and knit maybe 2 inches; the bea arthur mess, fronts, back and one arm (which is, btw, bigger than the friggin back!) done; 2 pairs of socks, each one at the first heel gusset; and tomorrow I cast on for orangina. Busy. Pics soon.

Yesterday I learned a little something about my folks, if I'm ever strung out and strapped for cash, they'll believe anything and hand over their CC# without hesitation. Both of them. I called and the conversation went like this --

Me (loudly on my cell): B---, we're in trouble, Little Bit and I were trying to surprise you with a visit and we're stuck in Ohio. I must've left my wallet at the last gas station and since this ashole of a car gets a million miles to the gallon, I just noticed it and we don't have enough gas to get back and it's getting dark and we can't get a hotel cause we don't have any money. I don't know what to do.

B---: Oh man, oh man, have you tried bill?

Me: Yeah, I can't get him. I've tried for the last hour.

B---: ohhh, do you want me to try to get his?

Me: I'm not sure, I mean I can't get him and I don't know what to do. We're stuck in Ohio and I don't know what to do...

B---: I can give you my credit card number...

Me: did I mention that Little Bit and I are in costumes? Yeah, he wanted to surpise you so we're driving there and I'm dressed like Peter Pan and he's tinkerbell. I've got on tights! and he doesn't even have tights on, just a little fairy dress and wings.

B---: what? (snickering) oh man...

Me: We're in costumes!...

B--: can you get to a hotel?

Me: I'm not sure, I mean, we're in OHIO! in COSTUMES! in OHIO! and I don't even know if hotels are open on April fools day.

B--: Oh sure, they'll be open.

Me: on april fool's day?

B--: yes, for sure, they'll be open..

Me: are you sure? I'm not sure they'll be open on April fool's day...

B---: No, they...oh man hahahah...

and then my mom came into the room

B--: you know, you're mom is really good at figuring out what to do in these situations, here, talk to here...

My mom was actually much faster with her credit card info, I didn't even get out that we were in costumes and she had me going to a hotel, me giving them her CC# and them calling her to confirm and then I told here about the costumes and she, without missing a beat replied:

Oh, they won't kick you out for that, they won't, they can't!

Hehe. So, those numbers are as followed-- 4406 0203 0066.

Yeah, right.

Rockstar or BUST

I've always wanted to be a rockstar but since I've no musical talent to speak of, I'll have to settle for rockstar spinner! Well, at least for this month anyway. Hurry, run get your newest issue of BUST and check the bottom of page 33! That's my yarn, and my URL. Yeah. Rockin' the pic with heidi, dharia, and lexi. Rockstar!

The food, it was 'apoisoned

I thought being vegan would shield me from this type of thing, alas, it's not security against those buggies born of starches and/or lazy handwashers. It's really wrong for a human body to be put through that particular ringer. The one that involves constant explosive as for me, I've trouble even saying one of them and doing the other. I mean, any word that trails off with a consonant like that, not a pretty sound. Like poo, ick, but add a p to the end and magically I can say it all day long poop, poop, poop. Heh, did I just increase my mystique, my allure, my appeal, for ya?

It came and went though. I'd like to say it went as quickly as it came but that would not be true. Not at all. Food poisoning is a slow heal. It sticks with ya, if not in exhaustion and rumble tummy, then in the equally tormenting fact that you now must wash all you sheets, towels, PJs, back up PJs, and finally those clothes that aren't PJs but are comfortable enough to lounge around sick (it's a good thing we got well, I was down to dickies and clever, witty t-shirts). Yeah, it sticks with ya, and with all the areas that now require scouring -- the sinks, the trashcans, every enamalish thing in the loo. Oh, and the reparations to my skin, it apparantly needs hydration and sustanance...baby. Yeah, it's a slow heal.

I also realize, along with it being wrong for a human body to go through it, that it's wrong for a human to have to read about it on a blog. What the hell is the matter with me? Next I'll talk about viscosity and frequency. Eeck.

So today, the 2nd day that we can function more than 2 feet away from the uh...couch, we're packing up and heading to pastures greener -- I know, who'd athunk that'd be York? But LB can play with the girls and I can spin all day, otherwise the shop would stand bare and still come Monday, and that just can't be, mama needs to buy some new deterergent.

Sadly, during my time of filth, I couldn't knit. I could, however, plan. An empty girl with plans is a dangerous thing, I've learned. So, just to get my mind around it -- because once you get where I am, you need to see it in front of you to really grasp the enormity and/or stupidity of your venture -- here's what's on my needles:
- Cabled hoodie (back and fronts done. hood and arms remaining)
- Bea Arthur monstrosity (back and psuedo-fronts done, sides, huge and crazy arms and band remaining)
- LB's socks (just turned the heel on first one)
- Handspun sock (on the gusset of the first one)

and the things that will be going on within the next week:
- Orangina for Sexy knitters KAL -- anyone have any yarn sub recommendations?
- Tiny cotton jumper (really a sweater but i'm making an internal language shift) for tiny baby not yet born.

Insanity is my heritage, I just hope to channel it into knitting prowess. Also, 2 days ago 10 hat kits, 3 ragamitten kits, and 5 yarns went up on Kpixie.com, all that remains is 1 ragamitten kit and 3 yarns (plus 2 old ones). Check it out, there's a few crazy ones, pre-food poisoning, if that sort of thing matters to you.

food poisoning

We just can't catch a break in the health department this season. Food poisoning all around. It's been 2 days. I'm totally empty. I think I even saw my spleen come out, it looked like a corn niblet.

Yin and yarn

Those gals at kpixie.com sure know how to make my yarns sing and shine. Uhhhh huh. The first 8 kits sold in a day and they just put up 2 more and 10 yarns. Here's hoping they don't last either. It's exciting, somehow, to see them sell off another site. And the pics look so good I almost bought one myself. Heh. Check 'em out.

A while back I saw another handspinner spin in some dyed silk cocoons, and while I don't use silk, they looked awesome! So I went on a hunt and found something called peace silk. Have you heard of this? The cocoons aren't gathered until after the silk worm has emerged and gone on it's merry little wormy way. No death to little wigglers, which is something I'm all about (the no death, not the death, 'cause I'm so not all about death, though in highschool...well, that's another story entirely... Yeah, so pretty cool. They're expensive but I ordered a few to see what I thought. And soon we'll see what you think too.

Physically I'm feeling better. I may have not mentioned my health issues, but I've had 'em. Three week headache (which is a motherfucker for someone not at all used to that particular pain in the neck), fatigue, and a strange inabilty to be in a lit room without sunglasses. Yeah, don't even say menigitis, K. That was my first guess. However, B-ill's wonderful pop, who's an accupuncturist and holistic doc, gave me the once over, popped the hood, stuck some needles, gave me some herbal tonics and I'm seeing straight and making lists again. Feeling much better. Yin deficiency and adrenal fatigue be damned.

Crafted into a corner with Milli Vanilli

When I was younger, in fact, all through my teenage years, I had this great friend -- E. She was one of those girls that must made you feel good, special. I met her when I was a junior and she a freshman. For a long time it was her and I against them. Oh yeah, her and I, and the boys. Lots of boys. We both had our runs. Mine were many, varied, and short, hers were many, varied, and long. Hers sometimes culminated in a tiny human popping out of her and all of us stumbling around and fawning over what were destined to become the cutest little humans on this planet (next to my future ones, of course).

This story is going somewhere relevant, really, stay with me. I had a bit of a troubled youth, and there are many people out there reading this (my folks amoung them) with eyebrows raised and that sarcastic you think? spilling out of their slanted mouths. Yeah, troubled, like, more than usual. I've got stories that I'll let unravel slowly like a sweater desitined to be recycled wool, but not all at once. No, you'd be scared. You might even run. I'm muchbetter now and I need you to know that before I bare the part of my soul that lied, cheated, stole, ran, and called a little adobe jail my home for the better part of a week? or was it two? three?

So, troubled youth. I was living with this lovely girl, her mom, and her stepdad. They were kind to me, at that point of my life, I didn't really deserve it, but they were. So my friend, E, was pregnant, all skinny legs and huge rotund belly. Really beautiful. What the neighbors must've thought, this very religious man living there with his hot, younger wife, her pregnant 15 year old daughter and her kicked-out-of-her-house troubled teen friend. And we flaunted it. Out in bikinis, her and I would hang out on the water (they lived at the same lake that my parents live at) and turn the tunes up! And damn the music was hot too! Yep, they were really flowing around the house that summer.

Know why? because my pal E had sold her soul away to 11 CDs for a penny if you buy 10 more at regular club prices within the year. But all she saw what the first part -- 11 cds for a penny. Hell, isn't that all we all see? And they get ya. You don't even have to order, you just have to fail to not order. Forget to send in the card saying you don't want this month's featured artist and guess what? Milli Vanilli makes its way into your hot lake shuffle mix, and a pregnant white girl does not look hot doing that dance, in fact, nobody but Rob looked hot doing that dance. Girl, you know it's true.

Her mom found out about the new music when she got the bill for Cd #12, #13, #14... She was not happy, even when we made her a fancy dinner and performed the dance and lipsynced for her. Not happy. But like all good parents, she yelled at us, and then she yelled at BMG music. When that didn't work she wrote them a letter --

Dear Sirs or Madams --

thanks,
xxx xxxx

and it worked.

Do you think such a thing would work for me? with Crafter's choice book club? Yeah, and you thought I was punk rock, didn't ya? Heh. Well I am! I'll craft ya into a corner and then jack ya. heh.

But really, I joined and thought it'd be no problem because now you can decline online, they even send you an e-mail reminding you and everything. Oh, it was so magical at first, I got loop-d-loop, and knitting on the edge, and a wonderful stitch dictionary, I was so all atwitter I think I may have even done the dance!

Then it all fell apart. I abandoned my old e-mail address 3 months ago (to the spammers -- oohhh, do you think I could blame them?) and haven't been getting the notices, which means they started sending me books. And not all staggered like you'd think, nope, they all came days apart, yeah, like these books were on back order. So now I've got 3 crappy books ranging in subject from the ancient art of scrapbooking to first take the 2 pointy sticks and long string of yarn in your hands to...I dunno, making shit out of dryer lint and fritos. It's painful to have to pay for them. So I'm thinking a letter --

Dear Sirs or Madams --