Caora Dubh (Black Sheep) Update #3
Three full bobbins! Sometimes I just tickle myself to death.
My journey to Handspun Nirvana finds me at this wide spot in the road: In only two more bobbins, I will be able to make 5-ply. For those who (like me) are weak in math, this means that I'm more than halfway there. I'm doing my best not to quantify my progress, since I fear I do enough of that when I knit, but Dang! This is really feeling like some tangible momentum. I have no clue how many yards are on these, rank beginner that I am. I figure I'll be able to measure the yardage better after it's finished anyway. Since the fleece weighed 5 1/2 lbs to begin with I feel pretty confident that there's enough to get a sweater. But even if not, I am really enjoying the delusion.
Spinning is such a great discovery that I can't believe how late in my life I came to it. It's a little like finding out at 39 years of age that there is such a thing as chocolate, or sex, or motorcycles. Who Knew? Man, I can't believe I made it this long not knowing about this. I love spindles. I love their portability, their beauty, their simplicity. But there is something so very magical about the wheel...The rhythm, the feel of the treadles under my bare feet, and of course, the incredible hand of the fiber. And if all that dreamy goodness weren't enough, the final bonus: Yarn! I made Yarn! No wonder spinners are such lovely and giving people. They must wander around in a barely-contained fog of fiber-induced ecstasy.
I moved the steaming pile of horror that is one of my current work (day job) projects to one side in an effort to see my desk calendar today. What do you think I spied? Hidden under the refuse of file folders, unintelligible reminder notes and the detritus of my cubicle-dwelling half-life was the date "10-15" circled in red (Crayon? Lipstick?), and the following note: "Rhinebeck".
A ray of spiritual hope, right there in the soul-sucking intellectual squalor of my office job: In only one more week, I'm going to meet knitters, and see sheep, and autograph books.
Fiber Ecstasy, indeed. Even spinning's got nothing on that.