Knerdy Knitting
where spelling isn't as important as awesome

I learned pretty much all I know about spinning at OFFF. One thing I noticed in particular was that the veteran spinners would spin a single, wind it off the bobbin into a center pull ball, and then ply the two ends of the ball together. Ta da! You don’t need to worry about having more on one bobbin you’re plying from. You always end exactly in the middle! I had to try this.

I’ve experimented with various ways of creating my own center pull balls. They have almost all failed miserably. Or at least in a tangled mess. But I got a new toy…. a wool winder! I’ve seen them work! They make magic center pull balls! I’ve seen it! How hard can it be?

Setting the Stage

Here are my weapons: a wool winder, Cynthia, and a slightly smelly single of mohair spun from the lock. I will use them to make yarn! I hope.

Step One: Spin a Single

Done and done. It’s some of my first spinning, and so dreadfully underspun. It barely hangs together. But I was so proud that I could spin thin! And I still love how it smells — a little like a goat dipped in Kool Aid. Funny that.

Step Two: ????

So I put the bobbin on Cynthia, strapped down the wool winder, and went to work. Getting a wool winder to, say, wind wool isn’t as easy as it would at first seem. The wool kept catching on the bottom disk and twisting around the base of the unit instead of around the post. And somehow I ended up with…. two center pull balls? On top of each other? Did I try to wind too much at once? I don’t think that’s it. Further study is clearly necessary.

Step Three: Profit!!

Now, to ply the yarn. I cut the mushroom into a top and bottom to make things easier. It’s actually really easy to ply from a ball like this. You sort of slip your index finger through the center of the ball and hold the outside loosely, rolling your wrist in a figure eight. And the ball doesn’t fall apart or get tangled! It’s awesome!

So that’s my 2-ply experiment. I think it yielded interesting results and merits further investigation at a later date.

Even though going through mohair by hand is lots of fun (see Goats), I wanted to go faster. So one of my goals at OFFF was to get a pair of hand carders. It turns out they are fairly expensive, but I found one pair that was half the price of the others. They were used, apparently for “Dark Wool” as they have a masking tape label to that affect attached to them, and their former owner is deceased. Her friends were selling some of her things at their booth.

Just as mortality inspires other forms of great art, mortality affects knitting and knitters. No, we do not knit little stuffed Death dolls. (Though that is a good idea.) But a common was to describe a yarn stash is that it exceeds life expectancy — that there is no way the knitter will use all this yarn before her death. And what starts out as a joke can become very real. I have only been a part of the knitting community for a short time, but I have been to two “give aways” following a fiber artist’s death. In both cases I didn’t know the knitter personally and the relatives of the knitter were trying to give things to someone, anyone, that would use them. I knit, and so they gave me yarn. But I also eat, and they didn’t push silverware on me with nearly the same intensity.

Knitting is such a huge part of knitter’s lives. It becomes more than playing with string, more than the pragmatic need to keep our loved ones warm. It is a reflection of ourselves and our lives. When our lives end with projects unfinished it’s like cutting off a song half sung. Even non-knitting relatives recognize this and feel the hunger to see the projects finished. Nature abhors a half-knit sweater.

After I die (…and I will die in the middle of lecture when I’m 96… all my students will get automatic A’s due to the trauma…) I’d like to think that Pirate Boyfriend would bring all my yarn and needles and books to Wednesday night knitting. That people would fight over the hand painted sock yarn and try to figure out from my Ravelry queue what projects I was intending for what yarns. I’d like to live on in the stitches that they make. I would like a Knitting Wake, where my yarn is divided and my patterns scattered to the four corners of the earth and the spirit of my knitting is laid to rest.

Because if you don’t, I am so haunting your asses.

How could I resist its power?

Sunday morning at OFFF, I discovered in short order that (1) my class was actually in the morning, (2) my instructor was running late, and (3) my class was going to be moved to the afternoon. This left me and Cynthia with no knitting, no fiber, and no car keys to obtain either one. Clearly I was fated to make one last purchase.

I chose some yummy superwash merino dyed up beautifully by Maisy Day. So what if there was less then 2 ounces? It called to me. So I hung out with the PDX Knitbloggers and began to spin. This was when I only knew one method, so I used the largest ratio, short draw. As usual, it came out slightly underspun and very sproingy. (Yes, that is a word.) Spinning all morning I finished the entire two ounces and got about 60 yards after it was plied.

So it’s beautiful, sure, but what can you do with 60 yards? Not much. Even little projects seemed to require more yarn. What I really wanted was a pair of mitts, but no go. So clearly I had to make up my own pattern.

I started with Fetching, the extremely popular Knitty pattern. Even these little mitts called for too much yarn. So I went up two needle sizes, cut out one of the cable twists at the wrist, and made the hands slightly shorter. It worked wonderfully, and I even had ten yards of yarn left. I used this to pick up around the wrists and knit another two rows; without these rows the mitts were pretty but not long enough to be useful. Now they are both! Knitting them up took about a day.

Being so small and slight (both in size and in woman hours of work), I call them Slightly Fetching. And I’ve been wearing them nearly constantly ever since.

Aren't they Fetching?

The Oregon Flock and Fiber Festival was a blast!  It was also three weeks ago. But there was so much to say about it that I hardly knew where to begin. When this is the case, I usually say nothing at all. To guide me, I’m going to make this a photo essay, just talking about some of the pictures I took on Sunday. This has the advantage of allowing me to actually, you know, write about OFFF. It has the disadvantage of ignoring Saturday, as I forgot my camera that day. Also, the beautiful loot acquired at OFFF will be discussed in a forthcoming post. On to OFFF!

We arrived early in the morning. Ok, so it wasn’t early when we got there. But Canby is an hour and a half away, so we had to leave Corvallis at 7:30. Which is early. This way WildThingsRun could make it to her all day class on natural dyeing.

There was some mix up about when my class was to start. We assembled, but through a mix-up the instructor wasn’t there. This is us all waiting in a circle with our spinning wheels. The instructor, Laura Cunningham, offered the class in the afternoon to compensate. It was increadible! I learned how to spin with a long draw, and from the fold, and how to use the different ratios of my wheel to make really fine worsted yarn. Before I could only make loosely spun aran weight doubles. Now the possibilities are endless! And I know how to adjust my spinning to the kind of fiber and to the kind of fabric I want to create. It’s awesome.

You know what else is awesome? The PDX Knit Bloggers! They had chairs and a canopy, and were very warm and welcoming. While waiting for my class they let me leave things there (like Cynthia the Spinning Wheel), and I even got to spin some with them. I’ve joined their yahoo group, which is also awesome.

No fiber festival would be complete without fiber animals. There were all kinds of sheep, all kinds of goats, rabbits, and alpaca. They were all beautiful and soft and fluffy. And you could buy their fleece, if you so chose. I did not so choose, through enormous strength of will.

All in all, it was a wonderful time. I got to sit in the sun and in the grass, spinning and carding and knitting. They even had a stage where people sang folk songs about fiber. How happy does that make me? Answer: pretty dang happy.