TNNA Mini WrapUp

Well, that week was a blur.  I'm recently back from Columbus, OH and the TNNA Summer Market.  What a great show!  Beautiful booths, positive energy, and wonderful people.  As per usual, I didn't get out of my booth much, and not a single photograph to be had (even though I brought my camera).  I didn't even get a single Jeni's ice cream!  But I did walk the floor each morning before the show opened to scope out all of the new fibery goodness and got to talk with folks who stopped by the booth. 

I roomed with my buddie Jeane deCoster of Elemental Affects and got to see samples of her new Romney yarn.  Mmmmm.  Michelle Miller of Fickle Knitter Design had a smashing hot pink booth, and did you know that she has a book coming out?  I've placed my pre-order and have demanded asked for an autographed copy.  Dale of Norway was in the booth next to me, and besides being charming folks, they had a charming xmas tree decorated with knitted ornaments from the new 55 Christmas Balls to Knit book which will be released this summer.  I am all over this book when it comes out (quick and easy xmas gifts, here I come).  

Imperial Stock Ranch from Oregon was another interesting booth, and the owner told us a bit about the ranch's history.  They've been operating for 140 consecutive years!  It's fascinating to get a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes operations of a real ranch, and how the owners adapt to changing market conditions.  Their yarns are lovely.

Amy from knitty.com stopped by, as did JC Briar (her new book is terrific).  I got to meet Kimberly from XRX, and had drinks and deep-fried green beans with Jennifer from Holiday Yarns.  Kollage Yarns was right up the road aisle so I got to run up and say hi to Erica and fondle the Sock-A-Licious.  There is some of that yarn in my future, I tell you.   I met Dob Robson in the airport on the way home, and I hope I didn't gush.  Her new book is FABULOUS.

And of course, it was wonderful to meet and talk with all of the wonderful store owners.  I'm happy that my markers will be in several new stores this summer!  But for that to happen, I must first get back to the production line!

What Was I Thinking????

When I was making my retirement plans, I envisioned having all the time in the world to do the things that I needed and wanted to do.  I would be freedom's prisoner. 

I would have the time to devote to my growing little business, without being harried or stressed.  I would knit, knit, knit, and then knit.  All of the designs that I'd been storing in my head would effortlessly spring forth, all properly formatted and ready to go.  I'd spin like a demon, to keep me in yarn for all the knitting that I'd be doing.  I would read -- if not constantly, then a whole heckofa lot.

I would attend to my yard, and there'd be nary a weed in sight.  There would be no dust dinosaurs in the house, my clothes would be ironed, and I would always have clean underwear. 

I'd bake bread regularly, and sweets now and then.  I would cook fresh wholesome meals, every day. 

I would make lists, remember where I put said lists in the first place, and then remember to look at the damn lists when I went to the store to buy what was on them.

I would go for long walks most days, take up yoga again, and work out a little bit with weights.   

I would have the time to sit still, and just be.

Hah.  Hah hah.  HAHAHHAHHHAHHH HAHHAH HAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAH
HAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHAH

Batt in Production

It's show season here at Chez Markers A Lot -- and not only are markers being made, the fibers are a-flyin' too.

This here is Steppe, a 60/40 blend of cashmere and baby camel, on its second pass through the card.  You can visit the finished version at Sock Summit in July.

mmmmm, soft

This is How We Wash the Wool

Earlier this week I went out to the desert to visit my buddie Jeane of Elemental Affects.  Jeane makes gorgeous hand-dyed Shetland yarn.  The wool is from sheep raised in Montana, the mill that spins the wool into yarn is here in the U.S., and Jeane dyes the yarn in California, so the product is North American, start to finish.  If you like supporting local farmers and artisans, check out her yarn.  Check it out anyway, it's really wonderful.

My mission was to help Jeane wash a whole lotta Romney wool, which is going to become a big fluffy new yarn she will be introducing soon.  Mmmm, wait until you see it. 

It's hot in the desert.  Just saying.

I've done plenty of wool scouring, but nothing on the scale that Jeane does to produce her yarns and fibers.  This is what serious wool washing looks like:

1.  Transport

The first step was to get the raw wool from the storage shed to Jeane's studio.

We loaded two bales of fleeces onto a little trailer attached to a Honda ATV thingy and drove them to the studio.  Each bale weighs approximately 120 pounds.  They're heavy.  And I want one of those ATV thingies.  The bales were then manhandled off of the trailer and rolled into position in the studio.

2.  Skirt and Sort

Each fleece is removed from the bale and placed on a big screen, where it is skirted.  This is the process where large chunks of dirt, vegetable matter, and dung are removed from the raw wool.  Loose stuff simply falls through the large holes of the screen onto the floor. 

The fleece is examined, and any rough or otherwise undesirable sections are picked out.  Even wool that doesn't make the cut isn't wasted; Jeane sends most of the discards to someone who uses it to stuff dog beds.  Lucky dogs. 

3.  Weigh and Wash

The sorted wool is weighed out (about 4 lbs per basket) and brought over to the laundry area. 

Each basket of wool first goes into a tub of lukewarm water for a quick soak to remove excess dirt and dust.  Then it goes into to a second tub filled with 140F water and detergent to remove the grease. 

Desert + 140F water = Hot.  Just saying. 

The wool soaks in the soapy water and gets swished around a bit in a process Jeane calls "clapping":  the wool is pressed together from side to side to allow the detergent to penetrate to all areas of the wool (Romney is a slow felter so it can withstand some swishing and squeezing).  From the washing tub, the wool goes into the washing machine (filled with more 140F water) to be rinsed.  Note the heavy insulated rubber gloves:  140F water is hot.  Burning hot. 

4.  Dry

The rinse water is spun out, and then the wool is taken from the washing machine over to the drying racks and spread out in thin layers.  It's hot in the desert, so it doesn't take long to dry. 

5.  Play

Did I mention that it was HOT?  We called it a day by late afternoon, and Jeane showed me how to do this:

I acquired a beautiful old Gilmore loom several months back, and it's been waiting patiently for some attention since then.  Under Jeane's tutelage I finally learned how to use a warping board, and she gave me a lesson on getting the warp onto a loom.   

It was a fun trip, and I now have an increased appreciation for those in the fiber business, and the labor and love (and sweat) they put into making the beautiful yarns and spinning fibers we get to play with.   

Passing It On

I've been spring cleaning.  Not with any particular gusto (I hate housework), but certainly with more thoroughness than usual.  This year, I'm doing some serious purging of excess clutter, stuff, clothes, etc -- trying to lighten the load, literally and figuratively.  Everything's fair game for the trash bin or Goodwill bag.  There's only one item I'm a bit sad to divest myself of, and that is this:

My briefcase.  It's a really nice case, but I no longer have any current need for it, and if all goes according to plan, I never will.  It doesn't suit my style, and those aren't even my initials any more.  But this briefcase has a long history.  It was a farewell gift from my coworkers, given to me long ago (in fact, 25 years this month) when I quit my job, sold most of my belongs, packed the rest into a hatchback Mustang and left New England to drive clear across the country to Southern California.  I had no job waiting for me, knew no one, and had no place to live.  For a quiet, shy, unassuming young woman, man I had some balls, eh?

This briefcase moved across country with me, accompanied me to many interviews, functioned as a file draw when I lived in a tiny studio, followed me from apartment to apartment and house to house, and served me well for many years throughout my career at a certain academic institution.  This briefcase stayed the course with me as I followed a sometimes uncertain path, gradually feeling my way until I found myself and came to be where I am now.

It's time to pass it on.  I rather hope it finds it way to some young woman out there starting out on her own path.  But whoever it finds its way to, I'm sure it will serve them well.

Camp Jabberwonky 2011

What goes on in Sock Camp, stays in Sock Camp.  So I don't have much to tell you.  I don't have much to show you, either, in large part owing to me neglecting to take many pictures.  But here's a few snippets.

Sock Camp is, of course, all about socks.  And there were many.  Among my favorite (and not just because I made them) are the most awesome Northampton Beat Socks, designed by the most awesomer Marcy Vandale.  She does a mean dragon dance, and that's all I'll say about that.

Northampton Beat Socks, in STR Lightweight, colorway Pepe La Plume.  See the row of Lucy Neatby holes?  I just love these. 

Sock Camp is all about learning and sharing, and there was much of that.  Anna Zilboorg showed us how to spin.

Being in the presence of Anna was worth the price of admission alone.  What a remarkable woman.

Camp Counselor extraordinaire Debbi Stone demonstrated spindling. 

A whole lotta concentration goin' on at this table.

JC Briar and Anne Hanson led some very excellent classes, and did a bit of spinning of their own.  And that's all I have to say about that. 

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee did some interesting things with silk hankies.

I do believe there was a run on silk hankies at the camp store that afternoon.

Sock Camp.  I learned a lot.  I laughed a lot.  I ate a lot.  It was awesome.

Oh, and this year's pony tail dip was magenta. 

Cooking by the Book

I remarked to a friend the other night that my evening plans involved a hot bath and turning in to bed early with a stack of cookbooks to read.  She exclaimed, "You read cookbooks?"  I was rather taken aback, until I realized that of course most folks do not, in fact, read cookbooks.  For them, cookbooks are merely recipe repositories, lists of ingredients for specific dishes or menus to make.  For me, they are so much more, for from the pages of books and magazines did I learn to cook.

My mother was a good cook in her way, and fed us well.  But she did not, thankfully, teach me to cook.  In my mind I think of her as a "'50's cook," although that may not be a good description.  Our meals mostly involved foods from cans and boxes, and many one-pot wonders.  There was Minute Rice with Campbell's Cream of Celery Soup "gravy," fried Spam and Egg sandwiches, hamburger pie (featuring Minute Rice and Campbell's soup), Hungarian Goulash (which was neither Hungarian nor goulash).  Vegetables came out of a can and were boiled until mushy, that is until frozen vegetables in boiling bags came along.  Then we had frozen vegetables boiled until mushy.  At least the Green Giant Cheese Sauce for the most part hid the vegetables.  It wasn't all bad; she could roast meats beautifully, and from my Italian grandmother (her MIL) she learned to make spaghetti sauce and meatballs.  She made great spaghetti sauce (since my grandmother made great spaghetti sauce), and it's probably the one recipe she handed down to me.

When I was older and out the house, I became interested in food and cooking for some reason (perhaps it was all those years of Minute Rice).  I first turned to Gourmet magazine (rest in peace, Gourmet).  This was back in the day when it was a truly great magazine, appealing to everyday cooks, gourmands, and armchair travelers alike.  From Gourmet's pages I tried many many recipes, discovering what I liked and what I didn't.  There were some spectacular failures, but I learned to cook in the process, and determined that complicated recipes with long lists of exotic ingredients were not necessarily good, and that in fact a few fresh ingredients prepared simply could result in something excellent.  I learned not only about cooking but about eating, through incredible essays from the likes of M.F.K. Fisher and Barbara Kafka.  There were articles about artisanal cheese makers, and bread makers, and vintners.  And there were travel stories that transported me to far-flung destinations, where I walked cobble-stone streets and ate in tiny tucked-away trattorias.  These stories expanded my horizons and gave my dreams a more international flair.

Then there came the cookery books.  Basic cookbooks for sure, those recipe repositories turned to for dinner inspiration.  But there were so much more.  Books more about how and why to cook, books about specific cuisines in a historical context, such as Waverly Root's The Food of Italy, books about daily life and cooking according to seasons, such as Elizabeth Romer's The Tuscan Year, and books about family cooking traditions such as In Nonna's Kitchen (why yes, there is an Italian theme here).  There were the books about cooking with ingredients fresh out of your own garden, such as Georgeanne Brennan's Potager.  There were the books about the art of eating, such as the classic The Physiology of Taste by Brillat-Savarin (translated and with comments by M.F.K. Fisher), social and cultural histories including Food in History, Why We Eat What We Eat, and Much Depends Upon Dinner.  There were topical books such as the wonderful Olives by Mort Rosenblum, and travel essays such as Her Fork in the Road, edited by Lisa Bach.  There was even the brief foray into the scientific and technical aspects of food through Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking. 

Lately I've been drawn to cookery books with evocative names and gorgeous pictures, such as Long Nights and Log Fires.  Yes, I did buy a cookbook because of its name!  There are actually some good recipes in here, but this is the type of book for inspiration.  This is the type of book to dream by.  

Tonight, my plans involve a hot bath and turning in to bed early with my latest cookbook to read.  It's called Lazy Days and Beach Blankets.  Sweet Dreams.