flyngmunky

On Living

2010-10-16T14:36:00.005-04:00

We're born. We live. We die.

That's how I'm told it's supposed to work. The cycle of life.

My father was born July 14, 1942. He died October 15, 2010. And, in between, he lived.

Now, I wasn't there for THE BEGINNING - he did have to get grown up and married and stuff before I came along, didn't he?

But I witnessed over 40 years of THE MIDDLE. And I'm grateful. I'm grateful to have known this man who really lived a life. Every image I have of my father is an active image. He worked hard. He played hard. He loved life, and it showed.

I remember many a time, as a child, waking up in the middle of the night to find him with work spread out all around him with some Coltrane or Miles Davis playing in the background. My father (whose father was a jazz musician) loved jazz. And soul, and funk, and classical, and rock. He just loved music. But, as with all things, he was not indiscriminate in his love. It had to be good music. Something to stimulate the mind and soul.

I will never forget the last time I saw my father dance. It was at my brother's wedding in Hawaii just two years ago. The man danced all night! With all the ladies. And, as with everything he did, he looked good doing it.

Yes, my father was a handsome and stylish man. He was super smart. And charming. All my life I was convinced he could do anything he set his mind to. And I have seen nothing to disabuse me of that notion. He was not as funny as he thought he was, but my father never ceased to entertain. He was bitingly sarcastic, opinionated, stubborn. No, really, this is all good stuff.

My father taught me to be curious. To want to know why things are, and how things work. He taught me to love the notion of a project. I find that I can turn the simplest task into a full-blown project without much effort. Thanks, Dad.

My father taught me to "work smart, not hard." "Finish what you start" - okay, I didn't really internalize that one. "Pick your battles." And he taught me way more about mathematics than I ever wanted to know.

I am so thankful to have been a witness to, at least part of, my father's living.

And I'm grateful for being there at THE END. My father had been suffering the assault of cancer for a few months. He was diagnosed with stage IV cancer in August, and while we continued to hope and do the things they say you should do - vitality-sapping chemotherapy - we knew in September that he was not going to conquer this particular foe. So, I spent a month with him in Utah during the time that he was still having "good" days. I said "good-bye" to him then, while we could both still appreciate what was going on. Then I, necessarily, returned to Atlanta.

When I returned to Utah, there had been no good days for a few weeks. I entered the house to find him at the very end. It was almost as if he were waiting for me. I held his hand. I thanked God, then asked Him to release Dad from suffering. And I watched my father as he appeared to recede into his body, then release from it.

Dad, thank you for all the love. We'll miss you. Rest easy.

Finally Done!

2010-10-04T12:04:00.000-04:00

(Quite) some time ago, I blogged about the Inorganic Organic Knit-along of the Every Way Wrap. Well, it's finally done! I love this piece, but it sure was a long haul getting through it. It's pretty easy, but a whooole lot of knitting. Thank goodness the knit-along was "organic" - of the group, I'm only the second person to finish. I can't wait to see what the other ladies' finished wraps look like (nudge, nudge).

Anyway, here are the photos - with thanks to my super sassy, ever-joyful model, Cindy (of Lovin' Knit Studio in Marietta, GA).

Now, on to what's next.

Lemonade

2010-09-01T22:01:00.000-04:00

My father received another "get-well" card in the mail today. The card read

"When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Lemonade!"

Sweet. But, what do you make when life hands you stage IV cancer? And it's all up in your gut. And the pain is constant. And you can't eat. Or drink, even enough to wash down the 10 different pills that your doctor insists you take each day. Some lemonade would be very welcome. But it will just end up in the barf bucket that is constantly at your side.

That's not to suggest that all of the sentiments - cards, calls, promises of prayer - are not appreciated. They truly are. I'm just highlighting that fact that it so difficult to know what to say in these situations. Living here with Dad as he suffers through this evil thing (there, I said it: Cancer is evil), I'm finding myself knowing less and less what to say as the weeks wear on and he gets weaker and sicker and more frustrated.

I don't want to say nothing. That's not good. But I don't want to be a nuisance by chatting him up too much. I want to put a comforting hand on his shoulder when the nausea racks him, and it seems that the next thing we're going to see in the bucket is a piece of some pretty useful organ. But I don't want to cry in front of him (he doesn't allow it, anyway), so I often have to leave the room. I want to be helpful, but I don't want to be patronizing. I'm having trouble finding the balance. So, I tread lightly, letting his wife handle most of the day to day stuff and just being here, at the ready, in case he needs anything.

K.N.I.T. (because this is primarily a knitting blog)

Exhaling in Salt Lake City

2010-08-27T15:50:00.001-04:00

Okay, maybe Utah is not all bad. And maybe knitting for sanity is not all bullshit.

My dad was in the hospital again, for the third time in three weeks. I had to drive down to Salt Lake City to take my cousin to the airport, so I decided I would take advantage of the free time and check out another SLC yarn shop. When I picked her up from the airport almost a week ago, we visited Black Sheep Wool Company. It was small, serviceable shop. But, nothing special. I bought some beautiful balls of Mini Mochi to make some socks for my cousin. And we left.

Fortunately, Black Sheep was not the end-all be-all of knit shops in Salt Lake City. Blazing Needles (the name makes me want to "whip this thing out") is something special. The shop is funky inside and out. The house that is Blazing Needles sits on a corner in a pretty residential neighborhood. There's cool fiber-related sculpture on the lawn and front porch.

As I entered I was immediately greeted by a friendly young woman who was eager to help me find what I needed, but content to answer some questions and let me browse after I told her I was an out-of-towner just trying to get a feel for the Salt Lake knitting scene. The first thing I noticed inside was the large collection of yarns from Habu Textiles. Just around the corner there was a full wall of Malabrigo of all types and another wall dedicated to the Cascade 220s - workhorse of all workhorse yarns. At the back of the store there is a beautiful sun-filled room with a fireplace and French doors leading out to a lovely little garden. There both the same young lady who greeted me and Cynthia, the shop's owner, offered water, coffee or iced tea. So shweet! And the yarns. Beautiful luxury yarns. Some handspun. Some hand-dyed. Tons of ShiBui!

There were a couple of women sitting around a big, beautiful farm table knitting and chatting. Turns out they were also really friendly. So, I decided to sit and knit a while. Christy and Jane really made my day. We talked about Utah - neither of them was a native. Christy, who came to Utah 23 years ago, was originally from Seattle but had live for some time in Boston and North Carolina, and Jane was a fairly recent transplant from Austin. We chatted about knitting, spinning, Christy's theory on the rudeness of Salt Lake drivers, the general lack of warmth of Utahns (particularly relative to Southerners), and, of course, sick parents. And I was thankful for the company and the normalcy of it all.

So, maybe knitting for sanity in tough times is mostly bullshit. But the comfort of the sisterhood of knitters is real. Thanks for being there, Blazing Needles, Cynthia, Christy, and Jane.

I Hate Utah

2010-08-18T23:08:00.002-04:00

I know. Sounds unfair. I don't hate the people. I don't hate "the Church." I don't hate the treacherously beautiful desert and mountains. I don't even hate the depressive pall that hangs heavy over the town I'm staying in.

My father has lived here for a few years now. He moved to Utah to ski. And ski he does - well over 100 days a year. 68 years old. He's a machine. Fittest of the fit. He had invited me out to ski with him each of the past few years. But I never had time. I never had the money. I just . . . never.

Well, now that my father has cancer, I'm finally here. And I'm hating every minute of it. I hate the fatigue, the weakness, the shortness of breath, the pain. I hate the very modern, beautiful, award-winning medical facility carefully watched over by mountains. The mountains are especially gorgeous between 8 and 8:15 pm when the setting sun gives the western face of the mountains a warm, pinkish hug goodnight. Sometimes, for a moment during that time, I forget how much I hate Utah. But just for a moment. Then I remember the tubes, the monitors, the (wonderful) nurses, the fourteen pills he takes each morning. In that moment, I forget the new gauntness of his face, his distended belly, his dry, pale hands and arms, and his, now, old-man shoulders.

But it's just a moment. I brought plenty of knitting to Utah. I knew it would help. That it would distract me. Help me swallow the tears that sit constantly, just in the bottom of my eyes. Keeping my hands busy, focusing on something else. Creating something. I just knew this would keep me sane. Hmph. It's all bullshit.

I hate Utah.

Quick Promo

2010-08-09T11:06:00.000-04:00

I have a friend who's mom is doing her thing in Loxahatchee, Florida. Her thing is making beautiful jewelry from gold and stones. I'm just giving her a little shout out, in the hopes that you will find the product of her passion as beautiful as I do.

Visit her Etsy shop and show her some love!

Teal Paisley Jasper & Gold

Multi-Colored Gemstone & Gold

On Knitting Socks

2010-08-05T13:12:00.010-04:00

I'm feeling a little ambitious lately - knit-wise. And I have a lot of time on my hands. So, I've got a few projects going on, and I'm fixin' to start a couple more.

I just finished the Teddy Bear blanket. It took much longer than I had planned, but I was in the process of relocating to another state during that one. I am also still working on the Every Way Wrap. It's an "organic" knit-along so, no rush there.

The Socks

Sunday Swing socks in some sort of Koigu

I have to say that I used to hate knitting socks. I wasn't crazy about working with teeny-tiny needles and skinny yarn. I really hated having to use 5 itty-bitty double-pointed needles to knit a little tube in the round. Yes, I could have used just 4, but I preferred the symmetry of using 5. Either way, that's just too many needles. That little log cabin foundation came to be known by me as an instrument of torture. So, a couple of pair of socks were knitted early in my knitting journey. In fact I still have them to this day, and love pulling them on on a cold night or sporting them under boots. But I took a looong break from sock knitting. Just didn't get the appeal.

Some months ago, I finally decided to try the magic loop method of knitting in the round. I love it. So simple. So genius. No gaggle of pointy, little sticks. And it makes it really easy to try on the socks as you knit. A healthy relationship with sock knitting was born! In fact, I've knit seven (or eight) pair of socks this year - including the ingenious Francie, Arch Shaped Sock, and yoga socks.

I even bought myself a couple of books about socks:

Janet Rehfeldt's Toe-up Techniques for Hand-knit Socks. This is a great reference if you like to knit socks from the toe up. Or if you want to learn how to do it.

So, I have a pair of toe-up socks in my own hand-dyed yarn on the needles.

The first sock was completed over a month ago, but I got distracted and haven't even started the second one yet. I know I'm not the only one who does this. Can I get a witness? I know you're out there.

Anyway, they will be finished. One day. I think the problem is I'm not really crazy about them even though I really like the colourway and the super softness of the alpaca blend yarn.

Sigh. One day.

And Knitted Socks East and West . . . by Judy Sumner.

This book is really nifty. The patterns are inspired by Japanese stitch patterns, with each sock bearing a Japanese-inspired name. I have to admit that I have not actually knitted any of the socks found in this book - and I probably won't. I like to keep things simple, and there's alot of fanciness going on in this book. Really, I bought the book just for the stories and the photos of the socks. They're all gorgeous.

I'm almost finished with the first of a pair of socks that I'm knitting in my own hand-dyed yarn. I was just going to let the teal and magenta colourway do the work, but as I started knitting them, I thought they could use a little texture.

So, I added a couple of cable panels and a moss stitch column to the back of the sock. I'm really digging these socks, but I'm pretty sure they're going to be a gift.

I also have a pair of Rebekkah Kerner's Vym socks on the needles.

I saw this pattern on Ravelry and was instantly moved to try some color work - something I have always been afraid to attempt because it looked like it involved a lot of work and more concentration than I was capable of.

Also, I didn't like the idea of the associated "floats" on the wrong side of the work. Philosopher's Wool's two-handed Fair Isle technique took care of that. The result is a woven, floatless fabric. Fantastic!

I never would have thought this could be so easy (of course, it's only two colors).

Now, I'm imagining all sorts of color work in my future - including these Fiddle Head mittens.

Finally, I have some Noro Kureyon Sock yarn that they were giving away at Knitch - in the Virginia-Highland area of Atlanta.

Okay, not exactly giving, but it was a steal - $20 for three skeins of yarn that ordinarily goes for $19 each. I'm thinking that I should get started on my Christmas knitting. Whether this sock yarn will actually become socks or something else remains to be seen.

Knitting Along - Organically

2010-08-03T10:27:00.007-04:00

The knit-along. A group of folks knitting the same thing. And comparing notes and stuff. It has always seemed a little keep-up-with-the-Joneses-y to me. And I find knitting to be a very personal thing. Do I really want to make the same thing as 5 or 10 or 20 of my closest friends? (FYI: that's funny because I call so few folks "friend".) At the same time?

Until recently my answer to that was, "Hell no." Until recently my only experience with kniting along had looked like this: my friend Dianne decides she wants to make something. She looks at the pattern and sees a chart.

Chart for the Knotty glove - which we made

Because she cannot or will not read charts she says to me, "Let's make this." I look at the pattern and say, "Ooh, that's beautiful!" because it invariably is something really cool. "Okay!"

So we buy the yarn. We do our best to print the (hopefully) free pattern from the world wide interwebs (thank you again for this, Mr. Gore) because there is no better pattern than a free one - especially when you're unemployed. Then I figure out the pattern and explain it to her. Sometimes this means writing out the chart into words that she chooses to understand. But sometimes (breathe) it means sitting together for hours with me reading each line of the chart to her as we knit it. I'm sure this sounds much more fun that it actually is. Okay, maybe it doesn't sound fun at all. Which begs the question: "Why do you do it?" To which I can only answer: "She's the boss of me."

Back in June (or was it late May?) a group of us were at our regular Wednesday night knit-in at At Tangled Skein, and, on a whim, we decided to do a knit-along. But we wanted there to be no pressure. It was summer, afterall. That carefree season. We all already had multiple projects on our needles. And everyone was just busy with life.

The pattern we chose was Okmin Park's "Every Way Wrap" published in Interweave Knits' Fall 2009 issue. The wrap is gorgeous. The pattern is relatively easy. And the whole thing is reversible - which I really love in a cabled scarf - it really is just a giant scarf, isn't it?

So, we decided to make this an "organic" knit-along. Get started when you want. Finish when you want. Make all the mistakes you want. Don't fix 'em if you don't want. Feel the yarn. Feel the pattern. Feel the project. Feel the glow of the knitting sisterhood. Whoooo-saaaah . . .

Of course, it’s difficult to be completely organic when you’ve brought together a group of highly accomplished, perfectionist, knit-prolific women, so immediately we came up with some rules - or guidelines, if you will - that were made to be broken. The knit-a-long came to be known affectionately as the “Inorganic-Organic Knit-along.”

Every Way Wrap in progress

We were, most of us, a little slow in getting started - which is just fine: organic - but once I wrote out the chart in words for Dianne and organically e-mailed it to the entire group, things really took off. Some of us were already nearly half done at that point. Many of us got started then. Some didn't. And that was okay.

This yarn is perfect for a nice, drapey wrap

Me, myself, personally, I am keeping it really organic. It will get done when it gets done. I’m not going to worry about the fact that I knitted the whole chart on the first repeat when I was supposed to stop at row 18. I didn’t even frog back, but rather just figured out a good row to start with to keep the pattern working. organic. It’s all good.

I may be about halfway done, but i’m not counting the chart repeats. I think there are supposed to be 16 total. But I'm just gonna keep on knitting until it’s the length my soul feels it should be. Organic.

My cable needle is getting a workout

I haven’t even thought about button choice yet. I figure that once my soul tells me I’m done, I’ll just saunter into an LYS - may this one, maybe not - with the wrap in hand and see which buttons it picks out. Organic.

Anywhoo, on with the wrap . . . or not . . . whatever.

Teddy Bears and Munkies

2010-07-29T13:35:00.006-04:00

So, my cousin's husband's daughter is having a baby. Yay! Sort of in the abstract, because I don't actually know her. But babies always merit a "yay."

My cousin asked me to make a blanket for said, unborn child. "I would love to! Are they having a boy or a girl?" I asked not because I would automatically make a cotton-candy-pink blanket for a little girl, or a baseball-on-a-summer-day-sky-blue one for a little boy. But, I would want the palette to reflect the gender somewhat, as with my moderne baby blanket - feminine, but not that's-what-little-girls-are-made-of girly.

"They don't know. They decided not to find out." Love it! That is so quaint. And so cool. I love the idea of having just one more thing to be uncertain about regarding the birth of one's child.

Afterall, the whole thing is kind of a crap shoot, isn't it? People often choose their mates with kids in mind. They wonder if the little ones will look like mom or dad? Whose sense of direction will they have? Will they be good in math like mom? Or gifted at the cello like dad?

"I love your honkin' schnoz!" she tells him as she plants a rough, playful kiss on the bulbous end of her man's nose - all the while silently, fervently, hoping that in the future she'll be planting butterfly kisses on little Emma's tiny version of her own button nose.

"Hmmm . . .," he muses not-aloud, "her feet would be great on a boy. He could do great tricks with two soccer balls at once, and they would really help his balance. But please, God, don't let my little girl end up wearing size 11 Birkenstocks."

So, what's one more thing? This does not mean, of course, that my cousin's husband's daughter and spouse are not planning. The nursery will be green and chocolate. Neutral. Hip. Chocolate brown - with pink, with yellow, with blue, with green - is all the rage in baby decor land.

Cousin wasn't sure what she wanted as far as design, so I scoured Ravelry and other internet sources for ideas for the blanket. There were lacey things and cables galore - you know, heirloom type stuff. Then there were the really cute things - baby motifs using ducks, sheep, teddy bears, monkeys - you name it. I, of course, was dying to do a monkey motif blanket, but Cousin went for the teddy bears. I had to keep reminding myself that I was just the knitter, not the mommy or even the gifter. So, I let the monkeys go, and embraced the teddy.

The teddy motif I used came from Barbara Breiter's "Teddy Bear Merino 5 Baby Blanket" pattern. I added seed stitch borders between the teddy bear panels and finished with an applied i-cord border in the chocolate brown.

See how it's done

I also knitted a single strand on US 9 needles, rather than the double strand on US 11s that the pattern calls for. This is a southern baby, and I didn't want the blanket to be too dense. Plus I love drape.

The yarn, from Knit Picks, is a worsted weight cotton that is washable - let's make this easy on the new mommy and daddy. I was concerned about getting the color right. There are so many greens. So I picked the most neutral green I could find, in the hopes that it will work with the other stuff in the nursery.

Now, we wait. And hope, more than anything, that this new baby loves his/her blanket. Because that is, of course, the most important thing.

East Berlin, PA

2010-07-27T08:06:00.019-04:00

Yes, I know - it has been a very long time since I contributed to this blog. And I'm probably taking the easy way out. But I'm going to commence my return to blogging with a completely photo blog from a recent trip to The Mannings - knitting, spinning, and weaving mecca - in East Berlin, PA with a group of sister knitters - Sandra, Shelly, Dianne, Arthella, and Cici and Chelette of "2 sistahs knit together" blog fame.

The Mannings front porch

The Girls!

For the Birds

Home Knits

2010-01-20T08:23:00.012-05:00

I'm ashamed to admit this, but I typically don't do much fiber work during the summer months. There, it's out. This past summer, for instance, I did not knit or spin one single thing. I went to the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival in May. Bought a bunch of fiber and yarn. But I didn't work with any of it until September. I say that I've been spinning yarn for a year but there was a good five months or so that my beloved wheel sat idle in a corner of my living room, glaring at me (in my mind) reproachfully. There was one summer, years ago, that I did a fair amount of knitting (and teaching). But I was in South Africa that summer. And it was winter there. It just fit.

In the summer I just want to be outside playing. I am inspired to knit by the changing of the leaves, and the cool that sneaks into the air in autumn. It's at this point that I start to think about hats, and scarves, and sweaters . . . and nesting.

Last year was the year of the hat for me. This year is mostly the year of the handspun yarn, but I'm also feeling knitty-homey (I made that up). If you search for "home knits" at Amazon, you'll find a bevy (I don't think that word is used enough) of books filled with nifty ideas for the home. Years ago I purchased Erika Knight's "comforts of home" (that's right, no CAPS; the way I like it). It's full of patterns for really simple knit items for the home. I still love this book, in large part because the photos are really lovely.

Another favorite is the original "Mason Dixon Knitting" (ah, soon to be in paperback, I see). This book contains a bunch of unabashedly country projects. I love the felted boxes

and, of course, the moderne baby blanket.

This year I started sewing. I shared my first sewing project, which happened to be for the home. And which also happened to be a knitting project, knit from my own handspun yarn. Trifecta! Nothing more satisfying (well, when it comes to fiber stuff, anyway - wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

The handspun, handknit, handsewn (well, parts of it) pillow experience was so cool, that I decided to give it another go. The first pillow is for sale in my Etsy shop. But this one is all mine.

Yup, that's suede(d fabric) on the back! I love this pillow. And it works so well with my other stuff.

And, then, there's the home spa. Okay, the bathroom. I'm pretty sure you can turn taking a shower into a special experience simply by crocheting some washcloths and calling them "exfoliating spa cloths."

These are made from a wonderful, scrubby little Elsebeth Lavold yarn called Bamboucle. Each cloth (and the un-pictured bath mitt) used just under one ball (which I bought on super sale at A Tangled Skein - one of my favorite local yarn stores) It also helps to use them with some all natural, organic, unscented body products like African black soap.
I buy this at a local African market for $5.99 a hunk (I'm not sure what else to call it).

For me that's at least a 2-month supply of soap that I use for body, face, and hair. That's right - hair. I can't remember the last time I bought shampoo. I love this stuff. It gets me super clean without leaving me feeling stripped. Of course I do like to follow up with a slathering of shea butter - also bought at the local market on the cheap. Both are said to have healing properties for all types of skin ailments. Ah, the healing wisdom of Africa!

Anyhoo, I'm trying to decide what my home needs next. I'm thinking some sort of throw. We'll see . . .

Treasured

2010-01-18T22:36:00.021-05:00

One of my brand new yarns has been listed in an Etsy treasury curated by craftygaltoo.

Have to admit: I'm feeling a little bit special.

Curating Munky

2010-01-16T20:04:00.003-05:00

I've created a new treasury at Etsy:

In the beginning . . .

2010-01-13T19:14:00.004-05:00

there was a mouse. In my apartment. And he brought his friends.

Then, just as they were taking over, there was Isaac.

He was super tiny and unnervingly skinny. But he was feisty!

And apparently he was terrifying to mice. Because after all 3.5 pounds of him chased one, I never saw another.

Now, I was never a cat person. I grew up with dogs, and didn't really "get" cats.

But, here I was with a kitten.

In my house.

And, even as he grew into a very large, very chubby cat, I loved him.

But, alas, Isaac had some socialization issues. He loved to scratch. And bite. Hard! And often. He was a big, unpredictable monster.

So, when he was about two years old, I got him a pet. A tiny, fluffy, grey kitten - Zora.

How could you not love that face? But Isaac did not. He tried to scratch her. And bite her. Hard!

But she never feared him.

As if she couldn't believe that anyone would actually hurt someone as cute as she.

So, Zora hissed. And bit back. And, finally, won Isaac's heart.

And became the boss of the house.

So, now I have a house full of cats (aka "The Cat Farm").

Who don't scratch and bite. (much)

And I love them.

Blog Block

2010-01-12T13:10:00.000-05:00

Two weeks. Two weeks since my last blog post. Nothing in the new year. How could I not do a New Year post for 2010?

I'll tell you how: I didn't want to. And I'm a rebel without a cause. Really, though, I've been lazy. And I haven't felt like I've had anything to share. Is it self-indulgent to post this crap? Well, yes, But since I'm still working out what this blog is all about, I'm gonna' say that's a-okay.

It's okay to write whatever I want to write here. Or not to write anything. Or to write about not writing.

I'm sure you see what I'm doing here. Priming the pump. The best way to get through a block is to write through it. So, even if it's some stream of consciousness bullshit (yup, that's a bit of profanity never before seen here at flyngmunky), it's gotta' come out.

Priming the pump.

Maybe a mis-spelled word (which the reader is unlikely to see because I love to proof and edit) will lead to inspiration. For instance, "Priming the pump" started out as "Priming the pup." Which got me thinking about the adorable new additions to my extended family: two beautiful Portuguese water dog puppies - Printz, my dad's pup; and Coltrane, my brother's. But how can they become a post when I've never actually met them?!

I haven't met the pups, but I have met my kitties. And I did promise (okay, warn) that there would be at least one post about my kitties, Isaac and Zora. Who just happen to be the most beautifullest kitties in the whole world. I, too, am astounded by my ability to remain objective when discussing these super fabulous, inordinately smart, frightfully cute, and incredibly accomplished kitties.

This, too, is just a warning. But, the kitty post will come . . .

Sheep Shearing and Sonatas

2009-12-28T12:42:00.001-05:00

I recently came across this Time.com story on the sheep shearing course at New Mexico State University:

In addition to being a pretty cool video for fiber enthusiasts, it brought a childhood memory rushing vividly back. Now, I'm pretty much a city mouse at this point in my life, but this was not always true. My family moved around quite a bit when I was a child, and when I was seven we landed in the great, and exceedingly beautiful, state of Vermont for a period of about three years.

My parents are from very urban areas in northern New Jersey, but they always found a way to plant their little family (Mom, Dad, and two kids) in places very different from their home cities of Newark and East Orange. I actually never lived in a proper city until I moved to Philadelphia just before starting college. Even in New York where I went to high school, my family had lived on a dirt road.

When we first arrived in Vermont our house was still being built, so we holed up for a time in a ski resort. I can still feel my mother's anxiety as she tried to maneuver up and down the mountain (with a 7- and 9-year-old in tow) during our first New England winter. But we had all come to appreciate each move as a new adventure. We finally got set up in our new house in the tiny (even by Vermont standards) town of Underhill at the base of the mighty Mt. Mansfield. It was there that my brother and I first strapped on cross-country skis - a gift from Santa, I believe - and skiied around our snowy, moonlit yard that first Christmas Eve. In Vemont I learned to ride the neighbors horses, drive a snow mobile, tap a maple tree, alpine ski, to make granola. There were snow ball fights, cow patty fights (you don't want to know), snow forts, milk straight from the cow . . . yeah, a real Vermont life.

It was also in Vermont that I learned to play piano. I can't say why, but when I was about six I started asking my mother for piano lessons. Mind you, we didn't have a piano. Needless to say, Mom was a little reluctant. Even the cheapest of pianos is not cheap. But I was persistent. So, after a couple of years of begging, Mom, who loved her kids way too much, took a job to get her daughter a piano. I was ecstatic. And a little wary. Afterall, Mom, who loved her kids way too much, told me that the day I decided to quit playing this hard-earned instrument was the day she would break all of my little fingers.

So, when I was about nine, the lessons started. My brother (two years my senior) also started taking lessons, but later switched to the trumpet. I can't remember the name of my first piano teacher. But I do remember that she was very kind and patient. She baked delicious treats from scratch. She lived in a beautiful, rustic-modern Vermont house. And she raised sheep on the acres of beautiful land surrounding that beautiful house.

To get to my piano teacher's house, I would take the yellow school bus directly from my tiny elementary school, and Mom would pick me up afterward. One lesson day, I got off the bus at the piano teacher's house only to learn that there would be no piano lesson that day. That lesson happened to fall on sheep shearing day. And, on a sheep farm, shearing takes precedence over tinkling ivories. That was the first time I had seen a sheep (actually a whole bunch of sheep) being shorn. I remember petting the sheep who seemed fairly calm, but a little annoyed by the whole process. I remember sticking my hands in the oily, fresh-shorn wool. I remember thinking all of this was pretty cool. But not so out of the ordinary. Afterall, I was a country kid. My closest friend was the daughter of a dairy farmer.

But, as I look back, I am able to appreciate what a special time those years spent in Vermont were. It was there that I gained a love of nature born from intimate, daily contact. Snow. More snow. Spring rain. Firy autumn leaves. Crystal clear creeks. Murky ponds. Elegant white birch trees. All manner of woodland creatures. Fresh garden vegetables. Pure maple syrup. Fiddle-head ferns. Beautiful things taken for granted. Finally special to me after so many years of city living.

Now, how to get back . . .

It's Just A Little Snow

2009-12-19T19:02:00.000-05:00

Don't Quit Your Day Job?

2009-12-17T16:02:00.000-05:00

Interesting article in the NYT about using Etsy to make a living off your hand-crafted stuff:

"Fashion & Style

HOOKED ON DESIGN Yokoo Gibran, in her Oatmeal Soopascarf, started a business on Etsy.

That Hobby Looks Like a Lot of Work

By ALEX WILLIAMS

Published: December 17, 2009

These days, the fantasy of building a career on Etsy, an eBay of the do-it-yourself movement, is not just the stuff of dreams."

First Deadly Sin

2009-12-15T10:24:00.008-05:00

Let me first say that I'm still kicking myself for not getting any photos of the season's first snow in the Nation's capital last week. I grew up in the great Northeast, so I have a profound appreciation for the white stuff. I always find the first snow to be really exciting - especially here, where we don't get that much of it. Don't know what it is, but there's just nothing like it.
Okay, enough of that.

I think I'm in danger of heading off to Hell. If, in fact, my pride will send me there.

When I look at the things I make - knitted, handspun, baked - I beam inside (and out, my friends would probably freely tell you) with pride. When I first started spinning I would show each tiny "skein" of yarn that I spun to my friend and say, "Look! Can you believe I made this?" I would then expect praise that some might consider to be all out of proportion to the accomplishment. At some point my friend asked me, "Are we going to have to rejoice every time you make a skein of yarn?" My response, of course, was "Yes." And why wouldn't we?! This spinning thing was huge! I sensed a whole world opening up.

I have to admit that I'm still really proud of the first thing I knitted from my own handspun yarn. The yarn was a merino single spun on my first drop spindle. And the neckwarmer was an improvised knit.

I've been accused more than once of getting too excited about the little things. I'm too amused by the things my kitties do every day. I love my own food waaay too much. The first snow of the season literally makes me want to dance in the street. A co-worker's joy at having finally, at around the age of 50, decided that it is okay not to chemically straighten her hair nearly brought me to tears. "I just feel so free!" she told me. How could I not be moved?

I may use the phrase "How freakin' cool is that?" a little more often than other people "d'un certain age." I even appreciate when other people get excited about stuff. Last week on the season finale of the awesome reality show "The Amazing Race" (which I get excited about each and every Sunday evening), one of the winners described the experience of racing around the world with her boyfriend in the pursuit of adventure, bragging rights, and a million dollars, as "neat." She might have said "really neat." I don't recall exactly. The point is I just loved that she used that word. It seems a small thing, but I see "neat" as a word whose power lies in it's innocuousness and simplicity. I mean, really, who uses that word to describe an experience like racing around the world (on television, no less)? Kids, that's who. And people who are not afraid to admit that there are still a few new things to see in the world. "Neat" - It harks back to youth and a simpler time. Things that are neat are fresh and cool, new and different, fun and wondrous on a simplistic, human scale.

But, please, forgive me for my digressions. (ahem.) Pride.

Right now I am so proud that as of yesterday I sold my 16th item in my Etsy shop, I just don't know what to do with myself. And my friends, knowing me as they do, have been duly complimentary, and rejoiceful (is that even a word?) Thanks, guys!

I am also ridiculously proud of my first sewing project. Back in September I bought a really nifty sewing machine as a birthday present to myself. I was sooo excited! I was ready to take classes because I was gonna' be makin' quilts, and those simple, flowy, natural, organic, linen-y clothes that they charge way too much for in what I like to call the "erstwhile-hippy-ladies-who-lunch" boutiques. I was going to make pillows and comforters and skirts, and all kinds of stuff. As of last week I had not even turned the machine on. I had, however, watched the dvd that came with it and read the manual pretty much from cover to cover. I felt that I would certainly be ready to sew, whenever I got ready to sew.

So, finally, I pulled the machine out of the closet, and the box. I plugged in all the stuff (power, control foot pedal thingy). I wound a bobbin. I adjusted my stitch settings. And I sewed. On my new machine (that had not been used since I bought it). And I made something! Something beautiful and tres useful.

I sewed my first pillow cover. Yay!! From a sort of irridescent, lightish-weight, denim-y, cotton fabric (i'm not yet versed in the jargon of this craft, but I carefully hand-selected this fabric). Without a pattern. (dang, I'm clever!) It has an envelope-type opening in the back. No buttons. No zippers. Maybe I will add a strip of velcro to the opening to assist with keeping it shut once the ("20 x "20) pillow is inserted. But at this point, I'm thinking "no." The last thing to do with this pillow cover was to hand-stitch a square of handknit fabric - knit from two of my own handspun yarns - to the front.

Oh, I agonized over this. Truth be told, I procrastinated out of fear of messing it up. Sewing - with a machine, or by hand - is new and scary to me.

But I overcame the fear. And now I have a really neat (if I may say so) hand-made pillow cover.

I am so excited. And proud.

From the Wheel: Nicholas

2009-12-13T11:01:00.002-05:00

First, let me thank my father for my new camera. My first digital SLR. Thanks, Dad!

Second, here's the latest offering from my awesome wheel. Nicolas began as a BFL (my favorite) roving from Miss Babs - creator of beautiful colourways. I am so excited about this wonderfully soft, 2-ply yarn. The saturated-but-soft colors inspired the name - they remind me of old-timey Christmases when St. Nicholas was still delivering holiday treasures.

Now, what to make?

Beaded "Woodland"

2009-12-11T22:45:00.007-05:00

flyngmunky has created her first handspun beaded yarn! It's spun from superwash merino and alpaca roving, plied with a natural, organic cotton on which I strung glass, bone, and brass beads. I love it, but it's the result of a lot of work and a number of false starts.

This one will NOT be for sale in my Etsy shop.

I'm just waiting for it to tell me what it wants to be . . .

Spinner's Creed

2009-12-08T19:55:00.002-05:00

This is my wheel. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My wheel is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my life.

My wheel, without me, is useless. Without my wheel, I am useless.

My wheel is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a sister. I will learn its weakness, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its treadles and its flyer.

I will keep my wheel clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready.

We will become part of each other.

adapted from "The Rifleman's Creed"

Aaaah. BFL

2009-12-07T23:06:00.008-05:00

DSCN5459_edited
Originally uploaded by flyngmunky

I am in love with the little Bluefaced Leicester sheep! This is, hands down, my favorite fiber to spin. I have spun a lot of the much-beloved merino, and I do really like it; don't get me wrong. But there is something about BFL.

The yarns are so very soft. I love putting the rovings and the finished against my face just to feel the softness. And it is extremely easy to spin. Like butter. Unless I'm trying to create a thicker yarn, I don't even feel the need to pre-draft the BFL rovings.

So, here's the latest BFL yarn from my wheel - Paradee:

Yum, yum, yum.

Unfortunately (for me, anyway) this one has just been posted in my Etsy shop. I'll miss you, Paradee!

Not A Proper Post

2009-12-07T17:05:00.000-05:00

I know this does not constitute a proper, complete blog post, but I came across this photo of a tiny marmoset on Flickr, and he(?) is just so cute!

And, as you may have guessed, I love monkeys.

Warning!!

2009-11-30T14:49:00.007-05:00

I just thought I'd put it out there, now. At some point in the (possibly near) future there will be some blogging about my kitties (yeah, they're grown. so?). There, it's out.

My cats will not be blogging themselves. And I will not be dedicating my entire blog to my cats. Are my kitties blog-worthy? I don't know. But, since this is my blog, and I don't have to follow anyone's rules, and I love my kitties, I think it's okay to give them just a post or two.

So, to my two readers: I apologize sincerely in advance.

But don't worry; no kitties today. Today I'm just sharing my newest tool of the trade, and what I've done with it. If I haven't mentioned it before, I heart tools. Screwdrivers, power drills, detail sanders. I don't know how it came to be, but Home Depot is my favorite store. The stuff they have there is great. But all the tools at "the Depot" don't hold a candle to the tools of the fiber trade: knitting needles, crochet hooks, row counters, stitch markers, tape measures that look like sheep, spinning wheels, drop spindles, niddy noddies, skein winders, hand carders, wpi (wraps per inch) tools that look like sheep . . . and all the other tools a fiber lover might need (or not. really, who are we kidding with some of this stuff?). I love them all.

So, about my latest acquisition:

Up to this point the bulk of my handspun yarns have been 2-ply with a smattering of singles and Navajo-plied yarns. I really wanted to be able to make a "regular" 3-ply yarn. So, I purchased the Ashford Competition tensioned lazy kate.

My first (and, 'til now, only) lazy kate was the one that came with my spinning wheel. A simple, but serviceable tool that held two bobbins and had no tensioning. It was not uncommon early on in my journey of learning to spin that I would get a good ply job going only to find that my yarn was spinning back on an uncontrolled bobbin, or that one single had gotten twisted around the bobbin holding the other.

Now, I had pretty much learned to control these issues. But, I was still after the three-ply yarn. One solution is Navajo-plying (or chain plying). I think this technique is brilliant, and it can be used to create beautiful yarn from one single. It is also a wonderful method to use when you want to retain the original color changes of a spun single in the plied yarn. But I still wanted the capability to do a "regular" 3-ply yarn.

So, I got the new lazy kate in the mail last week and started spinning singles for my first "true" 3-ply yarn. The Ashford "Competition" is a nice little tool. It is small with a low profile, but it's very stable - no worries about tipping while plying. It's also very portable as it is designed to be easily dismantled and reassembled. And the adjustable tensioning set-up works fantastically. I'm not quite sure how I got along without this for all this time!

The roving I chose was over 5oz. of 100% BFL (Blue-faced Leicester) hand-dyed by Ceereese1. I spun up three skinnyish singles, then plied them with wonderful ease from bobbins parked on my new lazy kate. I think the result - about 300 yds. of DK weight 3-ply yarn - is just beautiful to behold (though my photos kinda' suck), and even more beautiful to hold, and pet, and squish!

This yarn will be posted for sale in my Etsy shop this evening. (sniff. sniff. i'll miss it.)