…is the approach I went with for the next Christmas project, which is why there are two hats in this post. Always ask the parents, people. It’ll save you grief in the end. A while back, a dear friend sent me some merino sliver, all the way from New Zealand, which spun up into a pretty, soft, red and pink yarn: Now, I may not be a big fan of pink, but The Ever-Growing Niece loves it. Loooooooves it. Pink, pink, pink, the brighter the better. I knew who this yarn was going to.
I’ve run into a problem. My first handspun socks, the product of the Great Shetland Experiment, are experiencing severe structural failure. Barely past their first birthday, these beloved objects are wearing out, and quickly. I darn, I patch, I try to save, but as soon as I do, new holes appear. The same thing is happening with another, newer pair, too. Since I made these socks from the yarn up, I’ve only myself to blame, so I’d better figure out what went wrong.
As you may have noticed, I’ve been collecting fleeces. You may also have noticed a dearth of projects made from said fleece. Okay, there was the hat, but what about the other eleventy pounds? Am I opening a fleece museum? Had I run out of places to sit? No, though now that you mention it…wait. No. That would be silly.
Remember my one piece of Christmas knitting? Well, it’s done. It’s done, it’s off, and thanks to my ability to procrastinate and the wonder of USPS Priority international mail, I didn’t even have to go to the post office. I know people like to complain about the postal service here, but a public service that will come to my door to pick up outgoing packages is a thing of joy and a wonder to behold. A few extra bucks to avoid the aeon in Hell’s waiting room that is a post office at Christmas is money well spent, in my…
When I got back into knitting a few years ago, I was determined to only buy yarn as needed for projects that I was about to start. Those projects were rarely big ones, so apart from the odd sweater quantity of good intentions, the stash cycled through pretty quickly.
As you might have gathered from my last post, I’ve started processing fleece. I’d heard spinners wax poetic about the wonder of spinning wool you’d processed yourself: So lofty! So easy to spin! It’s like eating prime steak after a steady diet of hamburger! (I think that last one was Judith MacKenzie.) My curiosity was piqued. I like steak; I like getting heavily into the minutia of making things; how could I not like this?
My birthday’s coming up, and my mum got me this: