the Village Knittiot

If there is one thing that becomes more and more apparent the older I get, it is that there is very little in this world that is black and white — shades of gray are certainly the order of the day. Trying to find ways to reduce your impact on the environment is no exception. You make one change with the facts you have. Later you may learn that there are other factors involved that you were not aware of and you realize that you’ve been going around feeling really good about yourself for doing something that isn’t all that great in the long run. So, you change again with your new information and the cycle continues. Life is nothing if not constant evolution.

In response to my last post I received a number of thoughtful and articulate responses that provided some excellent food for thought. They also made me realize that I ought to clarify what I am trying to accomplish for myself a little bit more.

First of all, I want to declare the Village a guilt-free zone. I find, almost without fail, that when the subject of the environment and our impact on it comes up, the response is usually thick with guilt. Whether it is a confession that you don’t recycle and you feel badly about it or a defensive stance that wants to justify or even deny our impact, there is an underlying sense of guilt. I know that I easily fall into that trap as well. However, I have discovered over the years that guilt is not a very useful emotion, it is more like a sticky trap. It seldom helps us make lasting changes and usually is only there to be our whipping post when we inevitably can’t live up to unrealistic expectations (yeah, I know, I’m talking to myself here).

Second of all, this is not about denial. It is about exposure and awareness and exploration. I wanted to define some loose parameters that would help me open some new doors that I hadn’t thought to look behind before. As someone who is a big fan of those gray areas in life, I fully expected in my searching to discover that it is not as simple as saying — chemical bad, plant pretty. And this is exactly the case. As a couple of the commentors pointed out, just because something is “natural” doesn’t mean it is not toxic. Many of the mordants used with natural dyes are quite harmful. This will certainly require a little more in depth analysis before I get started on plant dying. On the other hand, many modern chemical dyes have been manufactured to bond more thoroughly with the fibers so that fewer chemicals actually wash out in the end and are very low in toxicity (appropriately enough they seem to be called low-impact dyes). And while the chemicals are still an issue with large-scale textile mills, the real culprits are the amounts of water and energy required for the process. Yet even in that, strides are being made. In more developed nations, and especially in Europe (where environmental laws appear to be more stringent) and also Australia, the impact has been severely diminished over the last couple of decades.

However, as more and more textile operations move into third world nations with few, if any, environmental laws, they are relying on older methods that require considerably more water and energy and the harsher chemicals are still being used and washed into the water supply. I know I can’t change that, but I don’t want my inability to effect that kind of change to be the reason I don’t try and explore other options. Options such as locally dyed or produced fibers from smaller companies and homebased businesses like Black Bunny Fibers (owned and operated by local Philly yarn goddess Carol of Rosie’s Yarn Cellar and Go Knit in Your Hat) or from small-scale, farm-based operations like Cranberry Moon Farms (I met the shepherd of this farm last year at Rhinebeck and she was just wonderful). These are just a couple examples of dozens upon dozens of smaller businesses that are worth supporting.

Thirdly, this project for me is strictly about cultivating awareness. As I said, I’m certainly not going to change the world. And I’m not trying to here. Well, I guess in a way I am — but only insofar as I am changing myself. As Tara pointed out, given the amount of knitting that gets done and the amount of laundry people do, a much more impactful project would be to get everyone to stop using laundry detergents that are petroleum based. And she is absolutely right. There are far more impactful changes you can make in your life. The purpose of this exercise or experiment was to get you thinking about alternative knitting options — that can mean anything, including working with natural fleeces without dyes, using more organic fibers from larger companies like Cascade or Blue Sky Alpacas, experimenting with plant dyes, supporting local yarn producers, buying from a nearby farm, ordering plant dyed fibers from California or Australia. Really, it is wide open.

I hope this helps clarify what I am thinking. I also sincerely hope that the zeal and excitement and enthusiasm in my last post came across as just that. If there is one thing I dislike, it is self-righteousness in any form. I don’t care if it is religious in nature, environmental, political or anything else. Personal choices are personal and as much as I would sometimes like a soapbox, preaching is just plain obnoxius. I much more prefer dialogue, because it implies that we both (or all) have things to learn from each other. Whenever I get excited about a project like this or find some new tidbit of information that catches my eye, I tend to blather on about it. Mostly what I am looking for is conversation and so I always appreciate all your thoughtful comments.

This weekend while visiting Sophie’s Yarns I had a really good discussion with the owner of the store about what is happening to make knitting a more environmentally friendly pursuit. After all, it was Earth Day and it seemed like a timely discussion. As soon as we got talking I had the feeling that this was one of those moments where you suddenly find yourself walking into a conversation that you are not entirely sure you want to be having, because you somehow know that the result will be thought provoking and will require change. You can see about a hundred miles away that it is going to give you something to think about, something that on some subconcious level you may have been avoiding, but that, no matter what, after this you will never be able to ignore again. And it all started with the most innocent of comments, “Oh, what a gorgeous yarn. What is it?”

The yarn, it turns out, is from Hand Jive Knits — a California based company that is committed to using only natural and plant dyes to produce gorgeous, subtly variegated yarns (and some rovings too, I see from her website). I have been interested in plant dyes since I started spinning, but I just haven’t gotten around to playing with dyes yet. Kool-aid dying grosses me out — I just can’t handle the fake and overpowering fruity smells. I have certainly admired the results others have achieved, but it is not for me. I am a little too freaked out by the toxic dyes to muck about with them in my kitchen, plus, I know when it came time to pour the used solution down the sink I would feel guilty. Yeah, I know, the height of hypocrisy. It isn’t as if I have cried over all the synthetically dyed yarns and clothing and any number of other items I have in my house. Sometimes, despite my best attempts to be a responsible person, I fall into the kind of thinking that seems to say — as long as I don’t have to deal with it, I don’t have to worry about it. It isn’t a concious choice, it is a default one.

I mean, let’s face it, our impact on this earth is insane and if we really wanted to change our lives so that this impact was severely reduced, it wouldn’t much resemble our current lives at all. In fact, I’m sure that for most of us the impact of that kind of change would seem pretty miserable — like the stuff apocalypses are made of. Because responsibility toward the environment that sustains us would mean a severe reduction in the consumer culture, which, at this point, would basically equal a collapse of our whole economic structure. We have created an economy where growth is dependant on wanting more and more and more. This in turn requires more resources to produce it. This in turn puts greater strain on the earth. Then corners are cut and processes “streamlined” so people get what they want faster and cheaper and the cycle goes on and on and on.

I am not trying to sound so bleak here and I don’t want to ignore the positive things that are happening out there (like the rise in organic farming and available produce, local food movements, environmentally responsible corporations, charitable organizations like Heifer International, etc.), but sometimes I just want to cry. And a lot of times, I just have to push this stuff out of my head so I can get up every morning and keep going. Saturday’s post talked about the one-step-at-a-time method of change. As you can see, thinking too much beyond each of those individual steps results in paralysis and despair. Neither of which is very useful. All we can do is one thing at a time and hope they all add up to make enough of a difference.

One of the things I think I have been pretty subconciously blind to (especially when overcome with a love for a certain colorway) is the process that takes a few fibers that have been twisted together and transforms them into something remarkably (breathtakingly, even) colorful. Dyes — especially the bright and vibrant ones that I tend to fall so hard for — are not exactly kind to the earth. Something has to happen to those toxic materials when they are done turning wool, cotton or any other fiber into the colors we love. The sad truth of the matter is that, like everything else, they return to the earth and contaminate the soil, our ground water and so forth and so on.

A couple of months ago I was reading through the book America Knits and in it was a profile of Sally Fox. She is the vision and the brains behind Foxfibre, an organically grown cotton that she slowly and methodically has cultivated over the years to naturally produce various shades of green and brown. They require no toxic dyes and information about purchasing yarn and fibers (and even fabric for you sewers out there) can all be found directly on her website. More companies are starting to carry lines of organic wool, cotton and silk, including Blue Sky Alpaca, among others. Smaller companies like Hand Jive are basing their entire line of products on using plant dyes and suppliers that are committed to teaching natural dying techniques and selling dyes that can all be found in nature (like Aurora Silk) are also out there. These are the kinds of things that excite me and give me hope. But the thing is, without my support and the support of other knitters, they won’t make it.

So, I have been thinking about how I can contribute to the success of companies like these and I have come up with a plan. While I realize that it is not realistic to think that a bunch of knitters are going to suddenly give up on a whole world of yarn dyed and produced traditionally, I thought I might be able to motivate enough people to participate in an extended experiment that would expose us to more organically grown and naturally dyed yarns and fibers. And what better time than the summer to familiarize ourselves with some of that organic cotton and hemp and to experiment with some of the natural dyes that can be found right in our backyards. Thus the seed of an idea was planted and it has grown rather quickly.

So, without further ado, I invite you to join me in a Summer of Knitting Naturally. I realize, of course, that Maryland is coming up in just a couple of weeks and I felt it wouldn’t make any sense to start this until after the event. So, my thought is that it will be a three month committment taking us through June, July and August. The guidelines are simple — you set your own goals. Everyone is at a different space in their lives about what they can do, so you decide what is manageable for you. Do you want to focus on knitting or spinning with more organic fibers? Do you want to learn how to dye yarn using plants? Never tried hemp before, but always wanted to? Now is the time. Knitting Naturally can take many forms, and what will work best for you is completely up to you and your imagination.

Every week I will be posting information on fiber-related companies that are doing great things for the earth and where their products can be purchased. I will also be experimenting with some spinning of new fibers, including *gasp* some of that FoxFibre cotton and maybe a little hemp while we are at it. I will also be doing some dying with plants in my kitchen and I promise to document the entire process and let you know what I’ve learned.

For those who are interested, please leave a comment (with a valid e-mail address in the e-mail field). Remember, this is all about baby steps. Make a realistic, manageable goal that you know you can stick with, but also make one that takes you just outside your comfort zones and exposes you to new things in the world of knitting. My sweetie is going to be working up a button for the venture, which I will hopefully be able to post in a couple of days. I look forward to hearing from you!

I have tried unsuccessfully to write several lengthy, coherent, thoughtful posts on topics that have struck my fancy over the last week. Unfortunately, my blog brain seems to be conspiring against me, so instead I leave you with some random thoughts from a stormy and gray Monday Morning in Philadelphia.

I have metioned on more than one occassion my love and appreciation of do the things (the knitting blog of one Amber Dorko Stopper — creatrix of the Knitting Tarot). She has now given me one more reason to love her (and Rosie’s Yarn Cellar — but more on that in a minute). The Noshi Knitting Monograph Series is a new publication of sorts, but before you groan, “No, not another uninspired knitting publication with dull and lifeless patterns,” let me tell you this is no ordinary publication. It is independantly published, available both electronically and on paper, and most importantly it is knitting based around innovation and unusual applications of standard techniques. But what really sealed the deal for me was one line in their “about” section, which stated — “NOSHI is a venue for things that are made with ideas.” Yeah. I am very much looking forward to seeing what happens with this over the next several months. If you poke around on the site a bit, you will see that her co-editor is none other than Lisa R. Meyers, owner of the cozy little knitting corner known as Rosie’s Yarn Cellar (or for those of us lucky enough to be able to shop there regularly — Rosie’s).

Bruce Springsteen has a new album out which includes a gravelly, soulful, folky, acoustic version of the Erie Canal Song (which is, according to my husband, my favorite song of all time — he thinks this because I asked him to sing it once and now instead of singing Pearly Shells and other charming Burl Ives tunes, he won’t sing me anything else). Needless to say, I must own this CD. Also, did anyone else hear that Erasure has a new acoustic CD out? Yes, I said acoustic. Doesn’t that seem odd? Nevertheless, what I’ve heard so far is very good. I have a soft spot in my heart for Erasure.

Loop celebrated it’s first birthday this Saturday, and lucky for me, I was yarn crawling my way through the city with a new knitterly friend (who I met waiting in line at Loop while the Yarn Harlot was here, where we ohhhed and ahhhed our way through the new Debbie Bliss Silk — yum — and well, you know knitters, that was enough). Craig (have I mentioned how wonderful Craig is?) was handing out Party Favors and in addition to my awesome new Loop tape measure, I got a mini skein of a new yarn that they will be carrying — after about two seconds, I think we identified that it was Koigu — mmmm, Koigu. I took a brief break from the pre-Maryland yarn moratorium to buy some Lorna’s Laces sock yarn in Rainbow and Flame.

If you have not yet seen this — Knitta, Please — you must. Knitted cozies for everything from trees and telephone poles to car antennas and scooters. Yarn grafitti! Yes. Loving that. (Thanks to my sweetie for bringing it to my attention).

Yesterday I was at Target looking for a new laundry hamper and I found, get this, tupperware for yarn. Okay, it wasn’t tupperware, it was some other brand, but it was plastic ware sized to hold a skein of yarn (think red heart or lion brand skeins — or as I like to refer to them, yarn logs) and a pair of straight needles, and in the middle of the lid was a little hole for you to pull the yarn through. It also had a carrying handle. We had a very good, long laugh about this. There really is a plastic container for everything, even an individual skein of yarn. What will they think of next?

Okay, work is calling and I must answer. More thoughtful posts to follow this week…

A number of years ago, there was a popular book that made the rounds throughout a lot of classrooms here in the states, called 50 Simple Things Kids Can Do to Save the Earth. Teachers frequently used the book to get their students involved in different projects and it was really empowering for these young people to feel as if the things they did truly made a difference. I loved the idea that these kids were going to bring this stuff home and educate their parents and that the habits and actions the book proposed were going to become a part of our lives and change how we interacted with the planet.

This was clearly a more optimistic phase of my life.

Now it seems that what needs to be done goes far beyond the changes a few people make in their daily lives. That does not mean, however, that our individual actions don’t matter. They do. How are the larger goals accomplished other than through the step-by-step actions and dedication of a few people?

The beauty of 50 Simple Things was that the goals for change were specific, they had an action associated with them and they were manageable. Change happens in our lives slowly and gradually and with intention. You pick one thing that you can do and you do it until it is just a part of your life, then you add another thing and another and before you know it, you are living with a continual awareness of your impact on this world. Not only does this have a positive effect on those around you, it also helps create a sense of contentment and well being and a feeling of confidence as you move about through your daily routine.

We are all at very different stages as far as our knowledge and understanding goes. There is so much to know and so many voices out there competing for our attention, many of them seeming to conflict with one another. We differ in the mental, physical and financial resources we have to devote to change. Sometimes we are exhausted before we even get through the day, let alone have any energy leftover to save the world. So, don’t worry about saving the whole world just yet. Start small. One thing. And after awhile, another thing. Before you know it, one and one and one and one becomes fifty and pretty soon you’re whole life is different one small step at a time.

Just a quick announcement with a little shameless promotion of the *other* blog — Kaizerin (co-blogger extraordinaire and wonderfully dear friend) and I just posted a write up on our impressions of Joan Didion’s latest book The Year of Magical Thinking over on The Bookish Dark. Feel free to venture over for a little literary discourse should you be so inclined…

Work has been busier than expected lately. Last minute projects. Tight deadlines. Up early. To bed late. Writing from the crack of dawn. It’s both exhausting and exhilirating. I am still in such awe that I am making this freelancing venture work. And work it is. Work, work, work.

Nevertheless, there has been at least a little time for knitting. Despite the hectic schedule, it was a surprisingly relaxing weekend and I was able to get through several of the pattern repeats on Ruby Joy. This shawl has been progressing so beautifully and I have been feeling so good about myself as I speed along. I’ve been checking my stitch count at the end of each row and it has (with the exception of a couple of rows requiring some tinking) remained right on target. I do visual spot checks here and there to make sure my yarn overs are lining up as they are supposed to be and they have been.

Then sometime on Sunday afternoon I looked down and I got that sinking feeling. Something didn’t look right. Worse, something didn’t look right about 15 rows back. Something about 15 rows back on my MOHAIR and silk blend shawl. Further inspection revealed that it wasn’t really terrible exactly, just a minor glitch. Only two yarn overs on one row that are off by one stitch. The other yarn overs on that row and every other row are perfectly placed. Really, it is just these two yarn overs. Hardly noticeable. Except, of course, to me.

I sat there for a number of minutes just holding the shawl in my hands contemplating my options. I could always tink back 15 (or more) rows, stitch by stich by tedious stitch, and fix the two yarn overs. Or, I could leave it as is. I also briefly toyed with the idea of slipping those few stitches off my needles and trying to work down the 15 rows to fix it. I even started in on that crazy plan only to realize that the problems inherent with mohair and fixing mistakes would hinder me from doing anything other than getting frustrated and destroying the shawl in the process or possibly setting it on fire when it proved impossible to do so.

So, I took a deep breath and just kept going. There is a mistake in my shawl and I am trying to ignore it. I keep telling myself comforting stories about how in some cultures artisans will purposefully introduce a flaw into an object they are creating because there is no such thing as perfection. I remind myself that this is probably good therapy for the whole accepting that life isn’t perfect stuff I’m supposed to be working on. And I am distinctly shutting out the voices that are telling me there is no point in having a shawl made out of such exquisite yarn if you are just going to let it have a mistake out there for all the world to see. I told that voice to shut the hell up and went and ripped out my unsatisfying socks hoping that it would relieve some of the tension. So far, that strategy has worked.

Even so, I know this is going to continue to bother me, at least a little. I know that someone is going to compliment me on the shawl when it is all done and I am going to want to show them the two deviant yarn overs to temper their praise. Sort of like a perfectionists cautionary tale. Yet, even with all of that, I honestly can’t face tinking all that mohair. It’s too disheartening.

This got me thinking about my tendencies toward perfectionism. I know we all have them to some degree. But it seems that some people are just better (or maybe more confident) about determining in what situations it is okay to relax your expectations and “let it go.” I sometimes feel as if I am afraid that letting my guard down in one instance will cause all my standards to rapidly deteriorate in every other area of my life (another symptom of an all-or-nothing approach, it would seem).

I find myself often stymied by perfection and unable to move ahead because of a perceived inability to achieve some ideal. And I’ve decided that is no way to live. It is singularly unsatisfying. So, I have been slowly cultivating a philosophy of imperfection over the last year or so.

A philosophy of imperfection doesn’t merely tolerate the messiness of life and the chaos that can errupt without notice. It should help you find a true sense of joy and unexpected wonder in these situations. Because, it is true — there is no such thing as perfect. Except maybe being happy with things as they are.

On Sunday when I gave myself permission to just keep going, there was a little shock of thrill that went through me. Wow. Just don’t fix it. It was so simple and so freeing. And it just turns the whole notion of perfection on its ear.

I’m currently reading through Stephanie Pearl-McPhee’s latest book — Knitting Rules. I sincerely enjoy receiving useful and practical information in a highly entertaining and well written manner and this book meets all the criteria.

After yesterday’s post, I delved into the chapter on yarn. It is appropriately named “Yarn and How Not to Feel Guilty About It.” She made some very good points on the merits of stash acquisition — some a little tongue and cheek and others that were more serious. Given my confession yesterday that I have a hard time committing to spending money on yarn and almost no stash to speak of, I figured that this would hold some valuable advice. Perhaps result in a more balanced approach that would allow me to purchase what I need and *gasp* occassionally what I want without the accompanying hesitation and panic and regret.

I was not disappointed.

She points out that if you were a carpenter no one would tell you that you had too much wood or, if you were a painter, too much paint and canvas. She also highlights the entertainment value and does a cost per hour comparison to some other popular forms of entertainment. Knitting, of course, is always the cheapest, because it takes the longest. Most importantly, she includes the caveat that as long as your ability to pay for the yarn is not exceeded by your actual purchases, you’re probably doing okay.

And lets face it, in this giant blogosphere we all call home, we have vastly different levels of what is a reasonable and responsible amount of money we can spend on yarn and its assorted trappings. There is no room for guilt in this equation.

One of the most important pieces of advice she gives in this chapter is “Buy the best you can afford. The stuff you make is your legacy, and your time is really worth it.” The best that can be afforded isn’t always going to be the most expensive and what it is you can afford will likely change from month to month and year to year as life fluctuates and alters its course. In the end, I have to agree with that kind of thinking.

Right now, as I have mentioned, I am knitting a shawl in some of the nicest yarn I have ever had the privilege to work with (earlier today in an e-mail I noted to someone that Alchemy Yarns should be given the knitting equivalent of an Oscar). I can’t remember the last time I worked on something that I was so completely, rapturously in love with. I find that I am unable to be away from it for longer than an hour at a time. I tried to bring it into my office just so I could be near it while I worked, but the temptation to gaze at it admiringly and not work was too strong. So I take frequent breaks and visit it in the living room. I don’t have to knit, just touch it, hold it up to the light. I’ve even named her — Ruby Joy (after a newly rediscovered friend’s spritely daughter and the sense of bliss I feel everytime I pick up this project).

To borrow a little math from our dear Harlot, the two skeins that Ruby Joy will be comprised of cost around forty dollars. The pattern estimates that this shawl will take twenty-four hours to knit. However, this is me we are talking about and with the Knittiot, lace always involves some amount of tinking, not to mention the time I spend just admiring it, so lets tack on another six hours just to be realistic. Forty dived by thirty gets us $1.33 per hour of entertainment. Not too shabby.

Before I close, let me also say that seeing the infamous Yarn Harlot in person was a treat. I have never felt so good about being told how utterly uncool I am. Really, I just felt a lot better about the whole situation.

I am one of those consumers who has a hard time committing to a purchase. At a very young age I learned what a dollar was and what it could buy. Turns out it wasn’t very much, and since there were few dollars to spare in our household, a purchase of say, a $25 pair of jeans or a dinner out could be easily translated into a bill that could be paid or some other necessity that could be taken care of. This didn’t mean we never bought the jeans or went out for dinner, it just usually meant that there was a lot of anxiety surrounding it. Spending money was always something we weren’t supposed to be doing but did anyway.

As I got older and moved out on my own, there were more financial wakeup calls. And newer lessons about a consumer culture and the push to buy more, more, more. I watched debt destroy my mother when I was a child and I was determined to be smarter with my money, but nevertheless managed to find myself in a couple of debtful situations that I had to dig myself out of. Good lessons were learned, better systems were implemented and all that.

When we decided to move away from the Midwest, I got serious about my money and through careful spending and diligent saving managed to amass a sizeable chunk of cash in a relatively short period of time. Then we bought a house and all our money was just gone. I mourned the security I felt in having some savings in the bank.

Of course, then we owned a home. And I can tell you, nothing sucks away your resources like owning a great, big, old house. It isn’t as if we were even really able to do much with it. It was a mess when we bought it and it was a mess when we sold it. Just paying the heating bills and the taxes and the little things we could fix was a never ending drain.

Then there was the year of unemployment for Mr. Knittiot, which resulted in further tightening of the belt and more in-depth analysis of our relationship with the consumer culture. I learned so much about myself during that time. It was amazing how on the outside of everything money can make you feel.

There is a new book out right now called Not Buying It. It chronicles the author’s year of not spending any money beyond the necessities. I would love to go into what some of her “necessities” are, but there is this slightly bitter teenager in my head who was forced to attend a school filled with a bunch of rich, entitled, snotty brats and she occassionally likes to emerge and spout inappropriate things. I have learned that her generalizations are unfair and inaccurate on some occasions and so I just remind her of this and she tends to sulk away.

I read an interview with the author and she made some very interesting observations about how this affects your life. She talked about feeling isolated and left out. Since she hadn’t seen the movies or read the books everyone else was talking about, she felt stupid. Without shopping to occupy her time, she had a lot of it and didn’t always know what to do with it all. She also found that her relationship with her partner grew deeper, she discovered lots of places she had forgotten about such as the library and attended more events in her community because they were free.

Because of all these experiences in my life, I am a reluctant shopper. It isn’t that I don’t want to. On the contrary, I am filled with a desire to just walk into a store and buy whatever I want. But that isn’t really an option. And the illusion that it is an option for anyone is just that — smoke and mirrors. Still, we have the impression that this is what people do. They just spend money and don’t ever think twice about it. We imagine that they are worry free when it comes to finances, but we see about 0.2% of people’s worries in general and this is usually just fine with us.

On Oprah, recently, she has been on a kick about helping Americans reduce their debt. I find it ironic that she can have a show on debt reduction one day and the next highlight a shoe designer that makes uncomfortable (though, admittedly beautiful) footwear I would have to save for a year to buy. Even so, I think she is very admirable for trying to help people get a handle on their spending habits. As I was watching the second episode in the series, one of the debt reducing families talked about the reaction from some of her family and friends. Many of them were embarassed. They didn’t really want to know this about them, didn’t want to be associated with them. The wife said she felt that if they had come on Oprah and said they were swingers they would have gotten a better response. And largely, I have found this to be true. Money is a hush hush subject. And so our unhealthy little habits are allowed to fester and grow in secret and in isolation.

Shortly after I learned how to knit, my husband lost his job. As a knitter this makes me one of those shameful anomalies — one with a very small stash of uninteresting and uninspiring yarns. I have no Koigu, no Lorna’s Laces. I have few pattern books and even fewer finished objects. I don’t have a complete set of needles and own no Lantern Moon and only a couple pairs of Addis. I don’t have a fancy knitting bag and weekly trips to the LYS in which money is spent is not an option. I am not saying this because I want sympathy or donations or anything else. This is just a fact. Do I want those things? Yes, sometimes I do. But not always. Because having them isn’t going to make me feel any better.

Last night I went to Loop. Loop is my favorite yarn store. Mostly because Craig and his staff are the best kind of people. They make you feel welcome. They are just as in love with the yarn as you are and they will talk to you about it for hours. But it is also my favorite because they have shelf after shelf of beautiful, soft and delicious yarns in colors that make your heart want to cry. Everytime I go there I have to exert some of my well-developed will power. I have gotten good at saying no to the seduction over the years. But sometimes, there is something I want and I really want it and it is a good and a beautiful thing to want, and somehow the will power takes over without my permission and I walk away without it. And then, Regret. I’ve gotten so good at saying no, I’m afraid to say yes. Yes opens up the flood gates of longing. And I still know what a dollar can buy and its even less than when I was a child.

Things around the Village have been pretty quiet lately. Not that life hasn’t continued to gush forth as it does, but I’ve been more introspective and spending a lot of time trying to be involved and present in my own life. This seems to be a good thing.

I am close to completing my Socks That Rock socks, but I must have relaxed my tension a little on the second one, because instead of getting 8 stitches to the inch, I am only getting 7.5. Also, I’m not happy with the cuff and I don’t like the cast on I used. Would it be crazy to rip them both out and start over in order to get something I really liked? This yarn is too scrumptious to be making socks that I don’t want to wear every single day. You know what I mean?

And since there will be no new yarn purchases until Maryland, I decided to cast on for the Kiri shawl with some Alchemy merino/silk that my mother bought for me when I was back in Minnesota. Oh. My. God. This yarn is divine. I want to just lay down in it and fall asleep. It is shiney. It is soft. The color shifts subtley from a bright ruby red to a deep crimson. The pattern is simple, yet interesting and I don’t want to work today, because all I want to do is knit on this. As I was sitting in the living room with my sweetie yesterday I told him that this feeling was precisely why it is worth spending money to get yarn you like. Better to make a few things that you love than a hundred things you only like.

Spinning has also been happening. Last week I was finally able to make it to the monthly spin-in at the local handweaving guild, which was very enjoyable and so nice to meet some local fiber folks. As always, just a little time with the wheel got me wanting a whole lot more. I think I’ve been afraid of finishing up the BFL before Maryland and not having anything to spin until then. But I tend to get a little obsessive about things and once I got going, I couldn’t stop.

I am feeling pretty good about my speed and consistency — especially for lace and fingering weight yarns. However, I think I tend to put too much twist in it and this results in yarn that is not as soft as I would like. I find that there is a fine line between too tight and so lose it falls apart. So I am experimenting with my tension and speed to see if I can come up with something a little more scrumptious. This has resulted in slightly thicker singles. Early on I fell so in love with spinning fine singles that I haven’t really done anything else, so this has been interesting. I wonder if I can manage to translate the softness of these thicker singles to something fine. Hmmm. Experimentation continues.

Finally, tonight I will have the opportunity to see the Yarn Harlot in person as she is coming to my much beloved Loop. Also, it will be nice to see the always Enchanting Juno again, since she is just one of those people who makes you feel better about the world. Hope to see some of you there — I’ll be the quiet girl in black sitting timidly in the corner (or I might be in the middle of the room belting out show tunes dressed in something saucy and red — I haven’t decided what sort of mood I’m in yet). I will tell you one thing though, it is not going to be easy to get out of there without spending a little money on yarn. Craig is so nice you just want to give him your money. And can you say Lorna’s Laces sock yarn? How many more days until Maryland?

Going back to the basics has been a tremendous help. It’s given me some tools to combat that pervasive sense of being overwhelmed and dissatisfied, and it’s helped me regain focus in moments when I feel it start to dwindle away. What am I doing right now in this moment? Am I trying to juggle two or more things? What requires my attention? What does your schedule say? I usually have answers for these questions and while it is sometimes hard to let go of the billions of tasks and thought processes that attempt to take over my life, it is an effective strategy. It gets me to slow down (a little) and really enjoy what I am doing in the moment as I am doing it.

In the interest of cultivating a deeper appreciation for the basics, I’ve been knitting socks. It would proboably be more accurate to say I’ve been knitting socks too tightly and making my little fingers ache, but you get the idea. I intended to create just a plain pair of stockinette socks, but, you know, when it comes to creating a simple sock, there are a million options. You have different cast-ons, you can go toe up or start with the cuff, you can do a heel flap or a short row heel, if you do a short row heel, there are a multitude of techniques. Then there is the toe. Don’t even get me started on the toe. Nevertheless, I managed to make some decisions, not all of which I was happy with, but socks are a live-and-learn type of project. I refuse to obsess over imperfections. I’ll just do it differently the next time.

Right now my thoughts are all pretty much gravitating to the upcoming Maryland Sheep and Wool festival. Unlike my typical behavior of overthinking purchases until I leave with nothing (and then regret it), I plan to walk away with quite a haul this year. I am also going to be trying out different spinning wheels and taking notes. It’s not that I am quite ready to buy — yet. I just want to know what I am doing when I do. My sweet little Kiwi has been a good learning wheel, but I’m ready for something a little more substantial. Not bigger, just more powerful and a little weightier.

Oh, and new post over on The Bookish Dark by c’est moi about A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro.