In retrospect, as recovery starts to happen, I think maybe the t-shirts should have read

I SURVIVED SOCK SUMMIT 2009

or maybe

SOCK SUMMIT ATE MY BRAIN

or something along those lines.

Pulling photos off the camera, it looks like I.... hardly took any. Which, when I think back, isn't that surprising. I managed to get a few Wednesday afternoon before things kicked off, and then a few on Thursday morning... and then pretty much never again.

How did this happen? Well... I've gotta say, it was intense. I've been to a few fiber events, worked a few conferences, and this was different from all of them. It was big, and filled with people, and totally inspiring, and exhausting, and delightful, and exhausting, and invigorating, and exhausting, and it was all of those things completely nonstop. There's so much I've been swearing I was going to say...and so much I haven't found the words for.

Here's our classroom (and there's a story about that):

Here's Denny setting up:

Look how we didn't block the fire exit rearranging the chairs they couldn't put in a circle for us. We're such good kids and unlikely to get in trouble with anybody's dad.

We were conveniently located near the coffee.

Which was good because we needed oh so very much of it. We'd take turns standing in the line, which was not inconsequential... look, here's a relatively empty lobby:

(You may not be able to tell, but as usual, Tina is right there in the center of it all making stuff happen, and if you were to turn your back, there'd be Steph, and if you were to turn your head or go around a corner, there would be Rachel, Debbi, JoAnn, or Lisa in all their orange-shirted glory.)

Anyway, so this one time I'm standing in the coffee line and Denny's hollering "Oooh, I want the perfect oatmeal cookie! Buy me one of those!"

"Oatmeal, or the cookie?" I asked her. "There's The Perfect Oatmeal, or an Oatmeal Raisin Cookie."

"The perfect oatmeal cookie! It says right there!"

"No, that's oatmeal. It's not a cookie."

"I want the perfect oatmeal cookie! That's what I need!"

"It's not a cookie, Denny!"

"Shut up and get it!"

So I got it for her... but..

Would you believe it wasn't a cookie?

I told you Sock Summit ate brains.

We saw some great folks. Denny got to give Spirit Trail Jennifer a present, and here they are:

And I'm convinced this is the sassy magic of Mary Scott Huff that made this photo come out all fun like it did, plus you can see the shawl Denny gave Jen.

I can't wait for Mary's book, which should be on shelves just before mine. I haven't seen the book -- but I saw some of the projects and they were stunning, and Mary and I were cooking up an idea for a collaboration of some sort too.

We met WonderMike, see?

And we totally made a Rubbernecker mod cry, and we have PROOF.

But as for the rest of it, apparently it didn't happen. Why? Because there are no pictures.

So obviously, I didn't really meet Sivia Harding first thing at the airport, on the shuttle to the hotel. I wasn't at the teacher dinner when someone put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she raised her foot to show a sock to someone else... and I realized it was Barbara Walker. I didn't really set down my bag at the dinner table the next night next to Priscilla Gibson-Roberts and come back to find it had been moved to another table, so I was stuck eating with Meg Swansen and Amy Detjen (among others). Denny and I didn't really teach 150 students over 4 days.

Oh but! I did get batts there, and here they are in the wild at Carolina Homespun:

But I obviously didn't go to the Sock Hop, or all kinds of other things. And obviously, I bought nothing at all in the marketplace, and this is clearly absolutely true, because I didn't bring anything home. It is absolutely not possible that there's a box on its way to me now that had to be shipped. Nope. No way.

If I ever get my brain back, there's so much more to say. So very, very much. I'm completely thrilled and honoured to have been a part of it.

I have officially lost all track of time. In the past 5 minutes, or else perhaps it's 5 years, the manchild finished school for the year, started summer day camp at the local YMCA, I got my copy of Amy King's new book Spin Control, I went to Colorado to work on an exciting new project I haven't gotten clearance to blog about yet, I saw the first laid-out pages for my book, I went to TNNA, my 40th Anniversary cherry Matchless arrived at my dealer's, and officially started trying to make exercise part of my routine even though there's no way I can fit it in.

Okay, it's been 9 days, and I feel like today is the longest I've sat still (I think I feel that way because it's true). I feel completely dizzy. And exhausted. And years behind on my email. And vaguely as if I'm forgetting at least 8 other things that have happened. But there are two pieces of big news. The first is that tonight, for the first time since I don't remember when, I have time to spin something totally just for me. Something that isn't committed to a project, necessarily. Something whimsical. Something I don't have to spin, with no deadline. And I have absolutely no idea what to spin. None. I am totally at a loss. I can't remember what to do with myself.

The second is that my book is officially available for preorder! I can hardly believe it, but, as my long-suffering editor said to me the other day, "This ruse that we're publishing a book is getting expensive." She was kidding. I hope. Seriously though, it's real! It's a real book. I saw real pages for it. With real pictures, and real words, and everything. It has an ISBN. It's, you know, real. It's really expected in November. And I've had a few folks ask me already where they can get signed copies. The first answer that came to mind was "Come where I'll be signing them," but when I said that in Amy King's earshot this past weekend, she pointed out that with the wonders of modern technology, it's actually possible for people to pre-order them, which she'd set up for her loyal Spunquistadores to do. "You should do the same," she suggested. So I'm copycatting her, and there's a link on the right nav bar where you can do just that if you're so inclined. When the first copies hit the warehouse, I'll get your pre-orders in, sign them, and send them out to you forthwith. Make sure you let me know who you'd like it signed to, or if there's anything specific you'd like me to say.

But please do still come see me where I'm signing books... and I'll let you know where that will be before too long. But in the meantime, I'm off to do my comfort spinning, and I'd love to hear what you consider comfort spinning!

Omigod, it's August. How did that happen? Once again, summer drawing towards a close finds me further and further behind on things I thought I'd do. Like, this year, blogging hardly at all, ev en with the whole early-rising thing going on. At least there have been some remarkable early mornings.

So, here, have some coffee and yarn that kinda matches.

It only matches in that photo, though. In real life, it's way more orange.

A while ago I stuck a couple of cotton seeds from Johnny Freakin' Cottonseed into some pots of dirt. They both sprouted. Early on, one vanished in the night, presumably felled by cicadas or a bird or something, but the other...

What, you don't see it? I swear there's a cotton plant in there that isn't dead. I don't know how it's going to turn out or why or when or what I'm going to do about any of that, but the plant is not dead yet. That must be good.

And lunches have been good, from Chad's small garden.

So many BLTs, tomato and cheese sandwiches, fancy bread with some goat cheese and a slice of tomato... between the tomatoes and the sweet corn, let's just say I love the summer eats.

I made Amy a blend to congratulate her for finishing her book manuscript.

Fine merino, cashmere, bombyx silk, and tussah silk, kinda tweedy.

That's it. That's what I have; a little bit of eye candy here and there.

Allright, I'm going to do a few questions relating to my wheel collection, because it's been a long week and that's what I think I have the cycles to do.

Ok, devil’s advocate here: Why do you have so many? Are certain wheels better for spinning certain kinds of yarns? And how do you justify buying a new one? (I know I’d have a hard time convincing my husband that I needed more than one wheel, thus I ask.)

So, here's the thing: I'm a textile professional. It is my career. Right now my focus is spinning, so I spin, and I write about spinning, and I teach people to spin. Those things, plus producing handspinning fiber, are what generate income for me. These are the tools of my trade.

If I were a woodworker, then chances are I'd have lots of saws, lots of specialized equipment for doing specific tasks, a stash of custom and hard-to-find sandpaper, piles and piles of various types of wood, and even more than one of what seems like exactly the same thing. Being a professional spinner is no different.

Different wheels do have different strengths and weaknesses, and different purposes to which they're ideally suited. It's the same as how a mechanic has different wrenches and screwdrivers and jacks and ramps for the cars to go up on and a stash of spare parts and a creeper to get under cars and maybe an engine lift or might choose to buy the house with a huge garage that has a pit in it. I have wheels that excel at super fine yarn, wheels that multitask, wheels that do a good job plying or dealing with bulky stuff, wheels that are great for a beginner, wheels that are compatible with each other in the event of a problem occurring, wheels that are expressly for travel.

Because I do this professionally, I may have a real need to have multiple kinds of things going on multiple wheels at a time. I can't fail to sample something on a wheel because I have a lengthy project in progress, and queue up work behind me finishing that. I really do need to have a wheel open at pretty much any time; if I have a big project on a given wheel, that doesn't mean I won't need to do a smaller one in the interim. I can't have the bottleneck of only one wheel.

I also have wheels because some time ago I recognized that the cosmos had appointed me to a position of great responsibility in which I am required to save wheels from uncertain fates, and often find them new homes. I'm like a spinning wheel foster parent. I save the wheels nobody wants from ending up living under bridges and spare-changing. Sometimes there is rehab. Sadly there is no government support for these activities, but that's not why I do them. Often there is no reward but the joy of ultimately finding these poor beleaguered wheels a loving home with a spinner or would-be spinner who has been trying to get a wheel for a while, to no avail.

And then too, I need to have extra wheels in case there's someone who simply has to be turned to the dark side taught to spin and given a chance to work through it. Sometimes people don't realize they want to be spinners, and may argue with you about this. They'll say all kinds of things -- oh, it costs money, I can't afford a wheel, where would I put it, I just don't know if I'd use one, maybe I wouldn't like doing it, I tried with a spindle but something doesn't feel right. Most of these people are wrong and must be re-educated are ripe for indoctrination actually ARE interested, and if loaned a wheel, are easy pickings and become addicted, providing a captive audience in the future have an opportunity to explore spinning at their leisure before going out and starting their own wheel collections and decide if they want to make an investment in spinning equipment.

I've also had times when I've been working on an article for which I had to provide photos, and it's been a drag going around saying "Hey, do you have a good picture of a double drive wheel?" and "Can I just borrow your Traddy for a bit while I'm working on this technical piece?" It's much easier to just walk over to my own Schacht Matchless, set it up, and do what I need to do.

Then too, I've got to be familiar with all the major wheels out there. Why? Let's say I'm teaching a class, and someone is having trouble with a technique. 9 times out of 10, the reason for this trouble is a wheel adjustment. I need to be able to find the source of the problem, correct it, and move on, very fast. If the problem is with the wheel and it's broken and it's not an adjustment, then in the interests of keeping that class moving, sometimes another wheel must be found. Fortunately, I often have one. But seriously, teaching spinning often involves teaching people about wheels. A good spinning teacher who covers wheel spinning should, in my opinion, know a lot about wheels, and also shouldn't be one of those people who propagates misinformation. I like to speak based on my personal experience whereever possible, and I try to make that a broad range of possible places.

If you had to narrow the collection down to only four wheels, which ones would you pick, and why? Could you choose only one, and if so, what would impact that decision most strongly?

Well, why do I have to narrow my collection? Is it the apocalypse? I'm trying to think about what conditions would cause me to have to choose only four, or only one, wheel. Totally sounds like the apocalypse. That has to be it.

What kind of apocalypse? The kind where I'm going to hole up in the house and take potshots at approaching zombies until things stabilize and we live in a world without a lot of modern conveniences? Because in that case, none of them go, and in fact, I need more, because I have to set up to teach people to make textiles so we don't have to live in a "The Matrix" world of ill-fitting and shabbily knit raglan sweaters in which nobody owns a crochet hook to pick up the dropped stitches. I mean, seriously.

Or is it the kind of apocalypse where I have to flee jack-booted thugs and go into hiding in a tiny attic?
That would be like living in a small house, and I already did that. That was why I got the Suzie Pro: a production wheel that takes up less space than most folding chairs. In this case, I'd keep the Suzie Pro, the two Louets, the Journey Wheel, and the Schacht. I know that's five. Shut up, they're small. The charkhas don't take up any space either.

Maybe it's the kind of apocalypse where we have to get in the truck and drive as fast as we can away from a fast-approaching lava flow which has come all this way from the Yellowstone volcano blowing its top. There is no room even for the cats, and I can only take the Journey Wheel, and I never recover from the loss of all the others, but live out my life in a strange post-apocalyptic bunker talking about everyone I left behind.

I'm totally disinterested in the type of apocalypse that requires wheels to go away. I vote we only have the kind of apocalypse in which I become the sage old lady everyone loves for making civilized life possible when you can't buy jeans from Bangladesh anymore.

Well... so that covers two questions, anyway. We'll be talking lots more.

There were a bunch of good, but unrelated to each other, questions asked last week when I started the Summer Q&A series with "spinning from the fold." What's more, the Q&A format worked out pretty well for handling the summertime blues!

But then Monday snuck up on me with no topic planned. How could I have let this happen, you may ask? Well, it was a pretty busy week on various fronts, with some deadlines and secret-for-now projects, and a few surprises and unplanned things came along too.

The first was that Edward came home from camp with a God's Eye recently. He's wound it and rewound it and he was rewinding it for the umpteenth time when I said, "Wanna see a trick?"

"Sure!" he said, and I showed him an easier way to wrap it neatly. He was enthused. "Do you have stuff to do more?" he asked, and I went looking. On the way to the yarn room, I asked him, "More... of WHAT?"

"Stuff like God's Eyes," he said. Turns out I really didn't have much in the way of popsicle sticks and inexpensive acrylic (go figure), but I did remember that a while ago, I'd scored an old potholder loom on eBay -- you know, the kind that uses knit rag loops? Yeah, admit it: you remember those things. But let me refresh your memory all the same:

There he is with his very first potholder (it's since been pressed into service in the kitchen). No sooner was that one completed than he was setting up for another.

I had to work hard at restraining myself. I mean, as long as he's interested in something like that, there's literally no limit to the projects I can find for him. It would be far too easy for me to get overzealous and totally overload the dude and ruin all the fun.

I also did not cackle with glee when, at bedtime, he said, "I just want to finish this row." It's just as well I kept my mouth shut, too; Chad gave me a very pointed look.

In the morning, we were heading to go see Chad's grandfather in central Ohio. Getting ready and getting into the truck, briefly we couldn't find Edward. He'd dashed off to the family room and started a third potholder. The loom and sack of loops went with us. By the time we arrived, he'd made two more potholders, which he presented to his great-grampa with delight. And when the lad went out to the truck to bring in a diversion, instead of the Nintendo DS, he came in with loom and loops, and started a fifth potholder.

"I'm trying to make it so it's checkered," he said. And he figured it out.

After visiting a while, Chad looked at me. "Hey," he said, "Why don't you go give your friend Beth a call, and see what time her shindig runs till? If it's late enough, we could go up."

So that was the second surprise: we hit the road for Howell, Michigan, to see Beth at The Spinning Loft where she was having a summer solstice event.

I freely admit to pausing to consider whether or not I had enough projects with me, and mentally praising myself for always packing more than I need (I mean, it's not like we had a change of clothes, but I had projects, so who cares about clothes?) and then laughing at myself because, hey, where were we heading? Right. A place with ample project resupply options.

Except... maybe I hadn't considered everything after all. On the road, I took out my cell phone and called Beth again. "Hey," I said. "By any chance do you happen to stock loops for potholder looms?" The boy was looking like he might run out. He finished his fifth, sixth, and seventh potholders on the drive to Michigan.

Halfway through Toledo we hit an incredible storm. It was pouring to the point that you really, truly, couldn't see anything. We pushed on. It was dramatic. The weather eased... and then not far into Michigan, the rain picked up again and suddenly turned to hail.

"I don't know how well this bodes for a dyeing-on-the-porch type of event," Chad commented. I agreed that I hoped it wasn't pouring in Howell.

We had a great time, and Beth's new shop layout is great! While she didn't carry potholder loom loops, she did have some other small loom setups, and we scored Edward a little tapestry loom and some coned yarn. He painted silk hankies and made a sizeable dent in the cookies. I got to try out that Mach 1 wheel finally. As for Chad, he's just a saint. He did get to look at some wheels he's never seen (you know, because there do exist wheels I don't have and have not owned yet, and Beth has a number of them for sale).

We made it home a little before midnight. Sunday we caught up on some chores, and then the next thing you know, it's Monday, and I haven't figured out what my topic for the week might be. Whoops.

I haven't finished spinning this yet either:

but when I do, it's destined to be Anne Hanson's new scarf, Elm Row. Possibly stole-sized, depending on what I get for yardage.

So, like I say, there are some really good questions that aren't related to a specific single topic, that came up last week. I'll tackle some of those this week, and since I'm doing that, go ahead! Ask me another. It's random catch-all question week.

I realize it's technically not summer, since it starts in earnest on the Solstice, but let's face it: once school is out, it's summer. Therefore, it's been summer for several weeks now. Summer, it turns out, is just not my favourite season.

The reason why will perhaps be evident if I tell you it's now 10:30 AM, and I started this post at 7 AM. The reason why will perhaps be evident if I tell you it's now Monday at 7:41 AM, and I started this post on Friday at about 7. A huge part of the problem I have with summer is scheduling. I seem to get up somewhere around 6 AM and have an hour to 90 minutes before the rest of the house has to be up. This should be a fabulous get-things-done time, but in practice, I'm either slow starting or ruling out slews of things I might do then on the grounds that they'll wake people up, at which point the morning starts and that time would be lost.

Once everyone's up, I scurry around doing a few tasks here and there (empty dishwasher, straighten counters, that sort of thing) and, like the real mom I am, nag the manchild to eat his breakfast and pack his lunch for day camp. Does he have a towel? Must I find one? What about sunblock? Sometimes I manage to step away from micromanaging him (like now, when I'm upstairs in my office drinking coffee, and presumably he's eating breakfast or packing his lunch. I wonder if he has a towel.) and I usually try to not just be the nagging mom, but of course it was a day I didn't nag when he forgot his sunblock and got a horrible sunburn. Rationally of course I know it's not my fault; the visceral parent-brain however continues to assert that I should have controlled that.

Driving him to camp takes 30-40 minutes. I always try to think of other errands that need doing out of the house, and have them lined up. I get home sometime between 9:15 and 10:30 and sit down, getting the feeling of having been up for 3-4 hours and, it always seems, accomplished nothing at all. From that point on, my day is a rush of trying to make sure Something Gets Done, right up until about 3:30 PM when it's time to go collect the boy (and do any other errands that may have shown themselves to be necessary). By 4:15 when that's all done, there's a weird chunk of 45 minutes before the dinner prep starts. After dinner is family time.

The start-and-stop and run-around schedule makes it hard to get into a groove doing anything. I feel scattered all summer long, and totally unproductive, even when I'm getting things done, because it never seems like I tackle big, all-day jobs or anything. Being so interruptible, there are scads of things that get started and not finished, and I'm always afraid I'm totally forgetting something huge. I can never figure out where I put down my sunglasses. The boy can't seem to remember to turn off his radio, ever, and it means I have to wade through the mess of his room to get to it because its constant on-ness fills me with rage. I never feel like I've had enough coffee, yet I know I'm draining the entire pot most days because I end up with iced coffee at some point. I look back at last year, same time, on the blog, and ask myself, "Am I measuring up to what I was getting done then?"

Well, realistically, I probably am; but I'm doing a few different things now. There is less production, and more writing, and more of the writing is not for the blog, but for other projects; but those projects pay me money. Since I'm selling more articles, that also seems to mean I'm putting fewer articles on the blog, and it's grown less focused. So, I've been trying to think what I can do about all of that, to reduce my feelings of constantly posting cop-out things with little real substance to them. So this week I want to try something new: Summer Q&A.

Here's how it works (this week, at least). On Monday, I'm going to name a topic or pose a question or something of that ilk. That's where you come in. You leave a comment, asking a question relating to the topic of the week, or heck, any question at all, really. Throughout the week, in fits and starts, with bursts here and there, I'll answer these questions. Sometimes it may be multiple answer posts throughout the week; other times, a big cohesive one on Friday. We'll see how this goes and how it evolves, and perhaps it'll be the answer to the fractured summer schedule.

Now that we've got that out of the way, what's this week's topic? Hrmmm. Well, how about "spinning from the fold?" Who's got a question about this technique?

Free-for-all questions are also always welcome. I mean, if a bunch of you say "No, totally not spinning from the fold, what I'm dying to ask questions about is tying drive bands," I still want to know what you're wondering, and I love to be able to answer.

With that, it's now time to commence the early morning home stretch, making sure lunch is packed and towel is ready and we'll be out the door to camp soon. So let's hear your questions about spinning from the fold!

I made it home from TNNA's summer 2008 show in Columbus, where it was my pleasure to sit (or, actually, mostly stand) in front of a few racks of baskets full of fiber from Louet, while demonstrating Louet's newest wheels, the Victoria travel wheel and her full-size sibling, the Julia. I know; it's a horrible, nasty, dirty job -- but let's face it, someone has to do these kinds of things. You know. For the greater good, and all that. Since Columbus is only about 90 minutes from me, I figured I'd take one for the team (which team is it, I wonder? Team Yarn Dork? Beats me), and headed up that way Friday evening with a Trans Am full of yarn and spinning wheel, things I needed muled to their recipients, and some bits of fiber I really had no idea what to do with (as in, "Argh! What possessed me to put glitter in the cashmere blend? That was totally stupid. I don't think I like it. Well, maybe someone will love it. I'll throw it in my bag and take it to TNNA and find out.").

Walking through the convention center and hotel, I quickly found Half The Blogosphere(tm), taking over the comfy chairs at the bar and showing off their MacBook Pros, knitting, and being photographed with Stephanie's sock. Next thing you know, Amy Singer (Knitty's mom) had caused me to suddenly and uncharacteristically order a pink fruity thing instead of beer, Steph summoned a choir of angels and their trumpeters to play a fanfare for the introduction of Norah Gaughan (Amanda from Lorna's Laces looked at me and said "You look overwhelmed," shortly thereafter; dude, Norah Gaughan! Hear the choir of angels?), and of course Jess, Casey, and Mary-Heather from Ravelry were there, and I met Stephanie from Spritely Goods, and Anne of KnitSpot (and I totally groped her sock), and Drew the Crochet Dude came by, and I totally didn't realize who he was at first, and... well anyway. Jillian Moreno totally ran off. I barely saw her all weekend. I didn't get a picture of her. Not one. Argh!

Well, it was like that, though. There were all sorts of "Oh! I need a picture!" but there were no cameras on the expo floor, and my Real Camera is big so I didn't carry it with me anyway, and then ultimately I ended up putting my new camera phone to the test. It's better than the old one, but you know... I needed a wide angle lens to fit in all the fabulous people who were there. Like at dinner, when everyone suddenly said "Oh man, we're failing as bloggers if we don't document this," and everyone whipped out cameras and started trying to do just that.

(Janel Laidman, Cookie A, the hands of Anne Hanson holding a camera, plus also Anne's chin, and Stephanie of Spritely Goods)

Well, except for Franklin, who is a total cheater because he can just do that "draw a picture" thing. He even charted the seating arrangements. He's way too organized. I think that's what Steph is telling him in this photo. If it isn't, it probably should be.

And here's Amy Singer with Jess. Here, Amy is not gasping in shock at the menu, but rather, is the very model of decorum and totally not eyeing Jess' piña colada at all.

Mary-Heather may laugh, but as for Casey, it's clear he is plotting something. Probably something to do with dastardly use of "agree(1)" or similar.

After dinner, at the fashion show, I did snap this photo of Steph taking a picture of Sandi Wiseheart with the traveling sock. At first, that flash of light (who is actually Amy O'Neill Houck, and we'll talk about that sweater she's wearing later, because it's fabulous) and I were going to take turns so we didn't have quite the ridiculousness factor of people taking pictures of people taking pictures of people taking pictures, but Steph totally insisted that made for a better shot, heightening the sometimes-absurd nature of being a blogger.

And speaking of such concepts, well, I'm really glad Steph beat me home and blogged first, because that spares me having to explain these:

which I feel is only fair, really, because I did explain briefly to the people who gathered on the sidewalk and asked what we were doing, and I did have to explain to my better half why I'd asked about dry ice and toilets when I called to say goodnight to him and our son. Spouses of fiber bloggers could probably use a support group or something. They're tireless and suffer through all manner of strange requests to hold something just so and help take pictures of something largely inexplicable and put dinner on hold for quick notes on something that must be blogged, and what do they get in return? Sheesh.

I was thrilled to meet Cathy and Steve from WEBS, and even more thrilled when in the course of conversation, Steve needled Cathy gently about her love of cashmere and glitter. OH! Love of cashmere and glitter! YES! I grabbed the pair of totally suspect batts out of my bag, and forced Cathy to take them. Why is this bloggable? Because it's a reminder of something I often need reminding about: my own personal aesthetics need to be set aside sometimes, and sure enough, even though I had thought putting the glitter in was a terrible idea once I'd done it, you know what I hadn't considered? People don't do that; so imagine being someone who wishes she could have it.

There's lots more to say about the whole event; in reality, this post is little more than an explanation of some crappy camera phone photos. I came home with a few specific things which need individual treatment, and a lot of general thoughts as well. I saw old friends and new, and time was too short for all the catching up I'd like to have done. I wish we, in the yarn dork world, did things like this more often. I don't think twice a year is enough.

A few people have asked me recently if I have any advice to offer about going to Interweave's Spin-Off Autumn Retreat.

Yes. Here it is.

SOAR is intense!

Don't try to plan for other things during the course of SOAR. Just go and do SOAR.

How does it work exactly?

Okay, here's the deal. SOAR is broken up into two parts: the workshop portion, and the retreat portion. For the workshop portion, when you sign up, you'll choose your first, second, and third choice of workshops from this list. You'll only get into one of these! You'll find out which when you get your confirmation and whatnot. For the workshop portion, you arrive Sunday afternoon or evening, there's dinner and a kick-off presentation in the evening, and some unstructured social time.

Monday morning, you get up, eat breakfast, and start your workshop. There's a break for lunch (and usually one coffee break in the morning and one in the afternoon). After lunch, you go back for more workshop, until dinnertime. All your meals are large group meals, buffet style, and you eat with whoever you eat with. After dinner, there may be an evening lecture for you to choose to attend, or not; and probably some unstructured social time as well. Tuesday and Wednesday are essentially the same.

On Thursday, the retreat portion starts. If you were only there for the workshops, this is when you'll head out. The marketplace opens this day, and there's nothing scheduled for it. There are still group meals. People who are coming for only the retreat portion start to show up. Thursday evening, there's a kick-off session and you sign up for retreat sessions. You get to choose four total; two per day. Thursday would be your main shopping day at the marketplace, too.

Friday, you'll get up, eat breakfast, go to your first retreat session, be there till lunch, and then after lunch, go to your second session, till dinnertime. After dinner, there may be evening programs. Saturday is the same, but generally Saturday night there's the big spin-in gathering. There are informal spin-ins and socializing and whatnot all week, of course. Sunday morning, there's breakfast, and generally a closing program, and people start to head out.

Will my family likely want to go along?

In general, I wouldn't count on it, unless they're fairly fiber-obsessed. Like I say, it's intense and pretty nonstop. Whatever down time you have you'll likely end up spending on fibery pursuits. If that's likely to cause strain, you may be happiest not trying to fit it in together with a family trip.

If I can only do one of workshop or retreat, how do I pick?

Tough call. I'll assume for the sake of this post that you don't have a scheduling issue one way or the other, and just talk about choosing one.

The first thing I'd do is take a look at the workshops. Have you, for example, always wanted to take an in-depth class on carding with colour? If so, Deb Menz' workshop session would be three days of that. Or maybe you've always wanted to take a class from Nancy Bush or a class from Judith MacKenzie McCuin; this year's SOAR offers both in one class... for three intensive days. Or maybe you just know that it's time for you to take some serious, no-joke hands-on and in-person instruction of a general nature; there are a few such options this year. But the bottom line is, is there a workshop -- or multiple workshops -- which you are just dying to take? Are you looking for three intensive days of study? If you are, then there is probably nowhere better to go get it. One teacher (or two for the Nancy and Judith class) for three days! I can tell you that as a teacher, it's an exciting prospect, because all too often you're trying to fit a lot into a smaller length of time and it's hard to do the topic justice, or you have to pick and choose what you'll cover. Workshops are terrific intensive classes.

If, on the other hand, there isn't anything you definitely want to commit three days to, or you aren't sure; if you'd rather have a larger chunk of uncommitted time; if you would rather get smaller chunks of more teachers, and more variety... well then in that case, the retreat may be the way to go. For a first-timer, the retreat is possibly more approachable in that you get to sample various teachers, and then reach those conclusions like "That's it, next year I want three days with Sharon Costello if she's teaching here again," or "Wow, cut silk pile is amazing! I had no idea! I need to know more! Lots more!" But at the same time, the retreat is a little bit more hectic because there's more going on and more moving from place to place; for the workshop, you set up in a classroom and that's where your activity is.

What classes would you pick?

It dawned on me belatedly that, as a SOAR mentor, I wasn't going to get to take any classes. I know, I know, it's obvious, right? Still. That's the down side.

You'll say this is a cop-out answer. It's really really true though! Anybody who's teaching at SOAR is going to have fabulous stuff to offer. Every single one of the classes offered is going to be excellent. No matter who you are, there is something for you to learn in each and every SOAR workshop or retreat session. You could literally pin the schedule on the wall and throw darts at it to pick, and you'd get great classes. Last year, for instance, I talked to someone who's been spinning since before I was born, been to pretty much every SOAR, and who was taking Maggie Casey's Spinning 101. And she learned stuff. I took Sharon Costello's needle felting retreat session, even though I thought I had less than zero interest in needle felting; I loved it, and it changed my mind about all kinds of things.

But that said, you could start by ruling things out. Let's suppose I were picking classes for me. For example, I'd love to take a Deb Menz class, but I also know that she teaches regularly at the Cincinnati guild near me (and which, one of these days, I'll make it to a meeting of -- it's just that I keep remembering it's the first Thursday of the month *after* the meeting is over). Anyway, I could go take her class there, and look for someone at SOAR who never comes to the area where I live. And I took Judith's workshop last year; maybe I should let someone else have a chance, and besides, I can't just always take the same person's class, even if it's Judith!

It's also worth considering things simply from the perspective of when you're likely to be able to take another class with this teacher. For example, even though I don't think I have a major interest in colour in knitting, this is the first time I can remember seeing Vivian Hoxbro teaching at a venue I can get to in quite some time. That was why I took Margaret Stove's retreat session on spinning fine wools for lace last year, and boy am I glad I did.

For retreat sessions, I think you pick two that you know for sure you want, one that's from a teacher you've heard great things about but have no idea if it's a subject you're interested in, and one that you think you just aren't interested in at all. For me last year, I knew I wanted to take Carol Huebscher Rhoades on spinning big yarns, and Margaret Stove on lace yarn... and I'd heard great things about Maggie Casey as a teacher so I took her class even though it was about long draw, a subject I know fairly well. And I wrapped it up with Sharon Costello about felting, expressly to broaden my horizons unexpectedly.

I have nothing but praise for all the SOAR mentors this year. Except maybe that Abby chick; what a poser, who does she think she is? But seriously though, maybe I'm lucky I can't take any classes this year, because it would be impossibly hard to choose.

It's not all about classes or shopping!

My father used to tell me I'd really like SOAR if I went. "Oh sure," I'd always say, "I'm going to go, and hang out with your friends... great. Whatever." I'd been to plenty of fiber shows and conferences and the like as a tagalong of various kinds. I really didn't need one more, y'know? After all, it's just one more fiber event.

That's honestly what I thought, and I couldn't have been more wrong. It's so much more than just another fiber event. SOAR is without a doubt the major fiber community event. It's where you go as a pathological fiber-obsessed nut job, to be with your own kind; to realize that you can just walk over to the author of some of your favourite books, and have a totally regular conversation; to meet people you would never have known were out there, let alone that you'd end up best friends; to have your boundaries pushed and your brain picked and your assumptions challenged and the seeds of a jillion new projects planted. You go to SOAR, and you realize you're not alone, and this is your fiber family, and you have things to give to it just as you can count on being able to come home for Thanksgiving dinner in a pinch. It's where a chick in a conversation (Hi Rachel H!) says "I'm really interested in building wheels," and is then rushed over to meet a bunch of dudes named Ashford, Schacht, and Lendrum, who are all standing around chatting. It's where you can stand around socializing with the people behind those shops you've mail ordered from, and really realize what they do for the community.

After it's over and you leave, time passes and you pick up your next Spin-Off, or you look at the Interweave books on your shelf, then magically, there are faces behind all the names. You're looking at the masthead that says "PUBLISHER: Marilyn Murphy" and instead of that being some nebulous name, you know it's that tireless, hard-working lady who was everywhere at once and still had time to chat with everybody. You know that the Phreadde Davis who wrote the ankletto article is actually Fibergal and she and her husband are driving forces behind many things at SOAR that aren't on the program but are traditions all the same. You know that Carol Huebscher Rhoades, Spin-Off's tech editor, has absolutely stunning hair and works her tail off making sure things are right. You know that everybody involved is a person, a fiber-obsessed textile nutjob just like you, who has made it a personal mission to spread the lore and the community. You know for certain that it's not like in many other pursuits, where it's just a job for people. It is simultaneously humbling and uplifting.

Should I take projects to SOAR?

You should! You should take finished things to put in the fashion show and gallery; you should take things to show and tell with; and you should take stuff to work on, too. There won't be any shopping till Thursday, so if you want extracurricular stuff to spin or what have you, take that along too if you're going for the workshops.

Anything else?

I can't think of anything right now, but ask me a question if you have one, and if I can answer it, I will!

In years past, I used to live on the highway. That was, in fact, almost 20 years ago, and in an era when I never would have thought that, should the World-Wide-Web occur, it would be attempting to sell me Mississippi Fred McDowell ring tones for my cell phone at the place where I'd link to lyrics that attempt to explain that phrase. So, what's living on the highway? In my case, I worked for a Chicago bluesman by the name of A.C. Reed. We'd go out on runs -- a day's drive in a Ford Econoline extended van full of musicians, followed by checking into a motel, setting up at a club, generally eating fast food, then playing ear-bleedingly loud music in a smoke-filled club full of variously intoxicated people, followed by breaking down, packing up the van, getting more fast food to eat, crashing for as long as possible at the motel, and then doing it all over again.

In that lifestyle, you spend most of your time squabbling with fellow musicians, talking... er, all manner of trash, chain smoking, arguing about whether it's gonna be The Clown or The Colonel for lunch, asserting that you know it's really Canada when the Tim Horton's show up, and the real Mason-Dixon line is actually the Waffle House line (it's the south if there are Waffle Houses, someone contended), telling the new guy he was stupid to buy smokes in Indiana when you'll be in Kentucky tomorrow and they'll be even cheaper, talking... er, trash, and, well, staring at a lot of asphalt. You get to know a lot about the interstate, and what's close to it, and where they go, and what they're like. That's what living on the highway means. You'll be out for weeks at a time on some run, driving frantically to make the gig, not a moment's real downtime, your life in suitcases and plastic bags of stuff from the last truck stop, constantly on the move, constantly telling and hearing all manner of stories.

So, one of the things A.C. used to always say up on the bandstand was that he was fittin' to get down. "I'm gonna get down like James Brown!" he'd shout, hot pink tenor sax in hand. And then, with a rueful sixtysomething grin, "I better not get down too far, though, or I might not get back up!" People would laugh, and A.C. would do a number -- something lively and danceable -- and the wisecracking would keep going. Eventually he'd say, "I done wore it out on that one. I'm gettin' old! I can't do the things I used to do! Man, I look like Keith Richards!" (He didn't, but this would make people laugh a lot anyway.) "Only Keith Richards is already dead, all he's gotta do is lay down!"

Any time any of us living out on the highway would get to feeling particularly worn down, we'd find ourselves saying that: that we looked like Keith Richards, and we were already dead, all we had to do was lay down.

Well, last week was spring break. And the poor manchild -- he got sick. And then about Wednesday, I started to feel not so fabulous. Thursday I took us both to the doctor, who verified there was no contagious plague going on here, and gave me the good drugs so I could make my gig in Michigan that weekend. You don't cancel gigs unless you're in the hospital. You gotta make the gig, and once you're there, you gotta do the gig. Old bluesmen know all this, and it's exactly how so many of them have managed to quite literally play themselves into early graves. Which old bluesmen also know, but it doesn't change the fact that you gotta make the gig, for lots and lots of reasons. So, medicated much more professionally than your average old bluesman, and taking full advantage of Trucky's comfort, I hit the highway and pushed straight through the roughly 4 hours up to Howell, Michigan. Just a mild, short drive -- nothing like having to go from, say, Atlanta to Telluride overnight (really, we did that once).

While I was driving, it dawned on me that despite all manner of experience with being out on the road, I pretty much never hit the road alone. On the one hand, it's totally sweet to do so -- you never have to argue about what music to listen to, or stop for someone else's bio break, or any of that crap. On the other hand, it gets lonely after a while and it stinks to be fumbling for your own cough drops.

The Spinning Loft is on Mason, just off the corner of Michigan, in a little bungalow, with parking back behind it. Beth has the first floor -- one large room and two smaller ones, plus storage, a bathroom, and kitchen area. And a front porch, it seemed, but this being March in Michigan, who looked closely at that? Not me. But still, it's a fabulous, down-to-earth, comfortable space, with wonderful light and, let us not forget, fiber, wheels, equipment, books galore.

About the time I was done unpacking (but not setting up for the gig yet), we were joined by Sharon Winsauer and Faina Letoutchaia, and basically, that's when it all started to get out of hand. Lucky for Faina and her cold, me and my cold took pity on her, and did not force her to hide under a table where I couldn't video her showing us how to really use Russian spindles. Lucky for me, she showed me anyway, and now, given some practice, in another five years or so I might be able to spin a viable amount of yarn with one.

Sharon had brought, to show me -- and I failed to photograph so this is her photo -- the real, genuine, actual, original Heere Be Dragone shawl. Folks, there is no way to make photos do this one justice. I want one of these shawls so desperately, but I'm the biggest loser in the world when it comes to carefully following a gigantic chart... and when I said that, Faina chuckled. "The thing is, about Sharon's designs," she said, "It is only one repeat." Faina and Sharon both scoff at my plaintive wails of "But I knit so slow! I'm not a good enough knitter to tackle this!" including when I confessed to Faina that I'm still chickening out of starting her famous Forest Path Stole due to gross incompetence in the execution of nupps.

That's when Beth had Faina pull out her latest shawl.

This is Beth's photo, because I was too gobsmacked to take a picture, apparently. Seriously, I came home without a picture. What Faina has done here is take Andean (including pre-Columbian) designs from weaving, and translate them to lace. This is a feat which Faina makes look easy, but I'll tell you, it gives me fits, even with patterns I know off the top of my head since early childhood. A while ago Faina and I were talking about this general concept, and I was showing her photos of various kinds of things, and I think I probably pointed her to this incredible time sink -- The American Museum of Natural History's Anthropologial Textile Collection. If that link isn't working, start with Anthropology Department at AMNH, and look around their collections links for the textile collection. There's a searchable browser interface -- ohhh what a time sink, full of the ability to look at things like this and that and... anyway. Seriously, go get lost in that collection. I don't know if I can make any of those links work for sure if you don't already have their site open, and the thing is, it's just an incredible textile collection. Even if I am biased, and it's a collection that my parents' work contributed to years ago.

Anyway, Faina... Faina is truly one of the world's finest textile researchers, and don't let her tell you otherwise (which she probably would attempt to do). Her fluency with all things fiber is simply amazing. And her interpretation of patterns involving complex symmetries and subtle nuance is amazing. So there she is, standing there with this unbelievable shawl, the design sources of which are absolutely obvious to me, but they've never been knitted lace before, and she tells me I should name the shawl. Such an honor!

People were clamoring for the pattern for this shawl, but she has no immediate plans to write up the pattern. However (I'm so lucky) if I can manage to spin enough Faina-acceptable yarn, she'll knit me one. That's a done deal. It may take me some time, but it's a deal. And that, of course...

...is why I need to spend a lot of time practicing with these, after the quick lesson Faina gave me. That, incidentally, was a real eye-opener! I can see the potential for quite an extreme level of productivity with the Russian spindle as pictured above. These are made by Edward Tabachek and the incomparable Faina has had input into them helping Mr. Tabachek get them fine-tuned into production-grade tools like traditional ones. I have to say, it's often the case when I'm looking for some rather esoteric or near-forgotten fiber tool, Tabachek is the guy who makes it.

Anyway, right! So there I am in this fabulous shop, starting off my gig totally humbled by the stars who've shown up so far, and we're just barely getting started with setup! Long about the first sound check, chairs are arrayed around the shop and those fiber packs are spread out and I discover that I forgot the stack of handouts and books I wanted signed by luminaries Beth had told me to expect to see around. Whoops! Well, worse things could have been forgotten. And that's when Ellen walked in. She and I have been friends online for many years, but never actually met in person till this past weekend. I knew it was her by the exclamation, "Ah -- wall of fleece!" and the fact that she stopped in her tracks right there.

You can just tell this is Ellen. She's decimated the Wall of Fleece, and she's grinning about it... in a t-shirt that reads "GOT FLEECE?" Who else could it be? And Ellen brought Jerry along too, of course, and he joined us for our spindle evening. We got started just about on time, immediately after the arrival of Marilyn Van Keppel and Greg Cotton, who drove all the way from Missouri and Iowa respectively. What an astounding list of luminaries! It's humbling, and exciting, and possibly a little intimidating to realize you're teaching a room at least half-full of teachers and people who drove further than you did to get here.

So, spindles. The subject of spindles is hard for me to distill down to a few hours, and I'm passionate about them. But yet, I sometimes feel out of sync with my fellow spinners in the US when it comes to them, and there are lots of reasons for this. So what can I teach people about spindles in a matter of an evening, that's worth sitting around for? The short answer is a few tricks, a few techniques for low whorl, and some discussion that hopefully provides food for thought -- and let's try to make it all fun.

I'm fortunate to have handy examples of pre-industrial, spindle-spun textiles that have been in regular service, and to have examples of the tools used to produce them. That's where we started things off, along with talking about the Andes a bit and how kids get started learning to spin yarn and handle fiber in general -- some fiber, and a stick, followed by the transition to a weighted stick, and the fact that now we're at the level of technological development which allows static civilization to arise and continue. Without this weighted stick, I like to point out, cultures stay hunter-gatherers. This is that primaeval tool which brings humanity out of ancient prehistory -- and now we've grown to a point where we don't even really remember it, or we see it as a novelty as often as not, if we see it at all. Even those of us who love textiles tend to overlook the simple spindle.

So, I like to tell a few stories, and pass around a few things. Last Friday, I passed around a child's garment about 70 years old, and a bag I wove that's about 23 years old. I passed around some spindle-spun yarn, and some simple -- even primitive -- spindles. These are low-rent, low-investment tools... but you can do amazing things with them. And then we hand out the modern American equivalent: the toy whorl spindle with the hardware store dowel. We played with those a while, and talked about what made them hard to work with. Then, we got into some things you can do easily and cheaply to change your spinning experience, and modify the spindle temporarily or permanently to behave more how you'd like it to. We talked about simple repairs, and compensating for problems, and what makes for more or less productivity -- from lifestyle, to technique, to spindle attributes, and so on.

Eventually, everybody had some yarn built up on their spindles, so it was time to talk about how to ply with it. Everyone learned some simple winding-off techniques and ball-winding maneuvers, got the point where they had a small Peruvian-style ball, and we covered plying. We did a few stupid yarn tricks. And lo, we were out of time -- too soon, too soon!

But the wool shop sleepover portion commenced. What madness! What fun! What a wonderful way to get to know folks better, and extend the too-short class time casually. Even if, as documented by Ellen...

...I look like Keith Richards at this point.

Seriously, that photo is half the reason why I kicked off with that story. I totally look like Keith Richards. I'm already dead; all I gotta do is lay down. But instead, I took my high-falutin' decongestant, mourned its incompatibility with beer (I managed to drink ONE) and mostly guzzled the hot tea and chowed down on cough drops.

What a wonderful crowd of folks! Donna, with six kids, is in exactly the lifestyle situation which makes spindle-spinning productive. You know, because it's about all you can do in between wrangling six kids. She was edging an absolutely gorgeous, snuggly triangle shawl. And if I had six kids, I'd be far less perky and charming and personable than Donna. Hah, Donna, I called you perky! Anyway, Donna's post with things she took with her from the spindle evening really makes my week. With a class like that, it's hard to know if, as a teacher, you're really hitting the mark or not. And Donna, I think Beth may have found your crochet hook, if you're missing it.

Beth just forwarded me a photo she got from one of the weekend's Lisas -- this would be the Lisa with the incredibly fabulous leafy sweater, not to be confused with the Lisa who brought her third handspun yarn to show, and I'm telling you, third yarn? The first two must have been a lot of yarn. There's no other explanation for the impeccable spinning she's already doing. Anyway, Fabulous Leafy Sweater Lisa sent Beth a picture of herself spinning off a rock outcropping out on a hike this week. See, Lisa? It's addictive, this notion of goofy spindle tricks. Just you wait and see.

That's Lisa, Faina, and Cindy, during sock yarn class.

Jofran also had to go early -- the following day involving a multifamily trip to Detroit. But before she left, she very kindly offered me space to stay if I am able to make it up to Ann Arbor to see Stephanie's book appearance next week, which I'd love to do, but don't know if I can. But geeze, I'd love to.

We also had multiple Michelles! One was a model student, and one was definitely big trouble. However, this can be forgiven on account of her Trans Am is actually cooler than mine. I have a totally pedestrian 2000 that's bone stock except for the cat-back exhaust, whereas she has a '79 Bandit Trans Am with a bored 454. Perhaps we can schedule a spin-in at a midwest Firebird event. Here's Michelle and Marilyn.

Michelle... had me sign her wheel. Man, now I really feel like Keith Richards. Patsy Z had already signed it, too. Marilyn brought a SpinTech -- so now of course, since I sat right next to her and it's totally quiet, that one's going on my shopping list too. Let me know if you see one.

Here, Kat is hiding her face from us, Greg is surrounded by the pair of Lisas, and Faina is giving me the stinkeye for taking pictures.

This is the LOUD corner. The moist side of things. In the center, Beth is crowned with a tiara. That's Beth! Oh, and Shannah is back there doing some sort of "keeping the shop running" thing or another. You can only see the tops of their heads, but on the other side of Ellen from me, you'll find the heart of the trouble: Jillian and Carla. They're unmistakably trouble, and unmistakably fun... and Jillian caught me by surprise when she passed along greeting from Kristi Porter -- who I haven't seen since she was in college and I was living on the highway, and we used to hang, doing absolutely nothing yarn related whatsoever. Though I often looked like Keith Richards back then too. Kristi, as then, looks far more presentable than me.

And Jillian's new book is out now, woot! Definitely calls for a beer. And no, I swear, I'm not saying nice things about Jillian just because she brought me two sixpacks of fine local beer. That would totally take at least three sixpacks.

And hey, speaking of apple-for-teacher type stuff, will you look at this?

Faina is such a show-off. Well, okay, she isn't, but she really should be. This little drink cozy makes me want to drag a random chullu knitter to Faina's place and leave them to it. What's most shocking is that I don't think Faina's ever seen a) anybody knitting a chullu or b) a chullu, up close and personal. This is a feat of knitting prowess that truly astounds me. "But look at the inside," Faina insisted.

This is shockingly close. The fabric totally feels right too. "All three colours at once is tricky," Faina commented mildly. Total understatement.

Anyway, so, spinning for socks. Ellen was kind enough to bring along a variety of sock disappointments, and tell their tales of woe. That was a huge help, because what I'd brought along for show and tell, other than some yarn, was a selection of socks, in various states of done-ness, from the circular sock machine. My problem, you see, is that I love to spin sock yarn... and just can't seem to finish a pair of socks.

"Do you have second sock syndrome?" several folks asked in unison. I was trying to think how to answer that, when Ellen answered it for me. "She has first sock syndrome," she said. It's a fact. I want to like knitting socks. But... but I seem to just... not knit them. I start them, don't get me wrong. That's just as far as it goes. I truly need a designated knitter. I'm not kidding; if you're a zippy sock knitter and you want to knit me socks in exchange for sock yarn, holler. This is getting embarrassing.

We started off spinning a firm, dependable sock yarn, with marling and striping, from two colours of blue faced leicester top. We spun firmly, and then we plied firmly, and then we gave it a rough finishing wash, and talked about a variety of things while we ate our tasty lunches. I'm telling you, nobody believed that the just-plied yarn above was going to look like it did. But that photo is of the very skein I passed around, that everybody liked.

After lunch, we passed around Beth's skein of 100% merino, super-stretchy, super bouncy sock yarn. "I'd swear it has elastic in it," she said, when she called me up asking about it. "Oh yeah," I said, "We'll be covering that in sock class. I promise." And it's easier than you think it is! By the time we were done with those 100% merino samples, and washed 'em up again and put 'em out to dry, it was time to get into a little bit of talk about the structure of 3-ply yarn, and why a true 3-ply yarn is going to wear better than a chain plied yarn. We did both of those anyway, using SWTC's Karaoke space-dyed merino/soy silk.

In sum, we did worsted spun sock yarn, woolen spun sock yarn, and "spinner's choice" twice. I think pretty much everyone managed to have a moment or two where the long draw clicked -- and that was HUGE fun, because that's really one of those things I feel is best seen and shown, rather than talked about. Kat's clicked with the Karaoke, and it was shrieks of glee and huge grins all around. "I'll spin what she's spinning," Greg said.

I'm itching to hear, over time, what ends up sticking from the sock yarn class, and what people took home. I had a blast deciding what range of yarns we were going to spin, with what techniques, and choosing the fibers. A HUGE thank you to Louet North America for supplying me with the positively luscious fibers for both of these classes. I'm particularly partial to the dark BFL. And the merino. Plus, well, there's the Northern Lights pencil roving for the spindle class. And, you know, that Karaoke is growing on me. And that white BFL isn't bad either. But, no, seriously, that dark BFL is particularly nice, and I'm definitely going to have to get some of that for my personal stash. It's definitely the nicest coloured BFL top I've had in years.

But anyway, I'll be interested to see who spins what. I'll bet on Kat spinning up some fabulous woolens from that Karaoke, the fiber that let her really get her long draw going. If Jillian has enough beer, maybe she'll do a bouncy merino. And I'm definitely going to spin some of that BFL, and beg Marilyn for her Faroese slipper pattern.

I expected to be coming home mostly empty-handed. Such was not to be the case! Not by a long shot.

The good news is, Beth can score me almonds. And several wonderful folks brought me almonds. Indeed, Marilyn blames me for gaining 5 pounds since she learned about them (but then, since I had SO many almonds, she kept hers and took them home, so how upset can she be?)

I'd just like to hop quickly to this photo from the end of the whole event. See, there's Ellen, not moved too far from the Wall of Fleece, and Jerry looks amused, while Beth (crowned by a skein, of course) is on the phone, probably frantically calling in a desperate plea for MORE FLEECE!

Okay, actually she's talking to Denny. I can't show pictures of everything Denny sent because a) Flickr's being incredibly slow right now and b) I already ate the chocolate. Plus the manchild got his Bionicle, which it turns out, IS the right one, and it's from this year's collection, and was not one that he already had. And I'm sure Chad will find a really good use for luxurious, spectacular salt that he totally recognized for what it was. And I'll wear this:

and embrace my inner pink. For you, Denny. Just don't tell everyone.

Supposing you can get Flickr to do its job, you can see all the photos here:

Abby's Yarns on Flickr

and I'm sure, when you see just exactly how trashed Beth's place is after the gig, you'll agree there's yet another reason I look like Keith Richards.

Sunday morning, incidentally, I lost my voice entirely. It's actually back for the most part, as of yesterday. It appears that, in the wake of pushing myself to make the gig, I... got an ear infection. That would be why this writeup has been so long in coming; lucky for me, I didn't have to make any more gigs just then, or I might have gone out like Charley Patton, wringin' wet with sweat from the bandstand and coughing like mad till I drop on the spot.

March continues to bring all sorts of excitement. Yesterday's news, for instance, said "Flooding is almost guaranteed in the Greater Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky region, he said. The Little and Great Miami rivers and the Ohio River could hit flood stage or rise above..." and this morning, quite a bit of flooding, even nearby, is being reported. We're atop a rise on higher ground and our drainage is good, but it's wet. Here's my office window view the past few days:

Sigh.

It was raining so hard I drove the boy to the end of the driveway to wait for the school bus (no school closing for him, as our district is not one of the ones underwater). He snapped this photo of our swamped main storm drain that leads to a nearby creekbed (which is normally almost dry).

It's been 4 or 5 inches of rain in the past 24 hours, apparently. Oh, the melodrama! Just... not enough to scare the bus drivers.

And time for work, too, Mom.

Pay no mind to the almost-finished objects and works in progress and so on, standing taller than my monitor and threatening to crush me. I won't be getting to any of those today. No, today is a workshop preparation day. This seems, to me, not odd at all, because I grew up doing it -- but at the same time, I think my upcoming workshops at The Spinning Loft in Howell, Michigan are the first I've done in over a decade, so it's been a while.

Working with Beth has been fabulous; she's given me accurate head counts all along the way, kept me posted on any special needs, gathered things she's got questions about dealing with the topics at hand, and let me know what sort of things she keeps on hand just in case. She's asked all the smart questions about space needs and class configuration and setup. It's hard to believe she hasn't been hosting workshops for decades; she's on the ball about this.

The bulk of my fibers for my two workshops arrived last night, and today I'm divvying them up into packets. I find that doing these in advance, student by student, streamlines the in-class time for certain types of classes. I always do enough for the signed up students, plus me, plus two, plus I try to have extra random leftovers of various things. Having packets ready, plus extra, plus leftovers, is especially important if a material is hard to find, specialized, or requires advance setup (like warps for a weaving class). Unforeseen things happen. If someone spills his coffee right into his pile of materials, having more is a win. And what if there are extra people who show up? Let's just say I'd rather have overprepared than underprepared. Nobody ever left a class upset that there were too many supplies, but too few? That's a problem.

I could just take this heap of pencil roving and distribute it in class -- and sometimes, I'd do exactly that. But we've got a full group and lots of material to cover and it'll be easier to be able to say "Now, take your pencil roving -- that's THIS" and hold up my sample, "and do THIS with it." So I'm divvying it up.

Then I do the same with the other fibers planned, and put together a packet.

Well... 15 packets, plus extra bits.

And that's the fiber for the evening spindle class! We have three very nice pencil rovings, a medium wool top, a coarser carded brown wool in industrial sliver, and some fine wool. This selection gives me room to work with spinners at all skill levels from "never touched fiber before, not sure what a spindle is" to the likes of Faina "Forest Path Stole" Letoutchaia, who I'm sure will be ready with a basket of overripe tomatoes just in case I don't have answers for her about something.

(NB: Faina is one of my favourite yarn people. We wisecrack with each other, but don't mistake it for anything other than good-natured! I'm hoping she'll stay after class and show me a spindle trick or two with the Russian spindle, a tool which... well, I don't think I even own one right now, we'll put it that way.)

Selecting fiber for the sock class was a different sort of exercise. As we were discussing in "Spinning for Socks: Why?" there are many things that make a given pair of socks ideal. With this class, I want to not only teach students how to spin sock yarn like the millspuns they may be buying to knit socks with, but give them an opportunity to think about what more is possible.

So, we've got your basic soft, fluffy Merino top, and we'll talk about how to get a bouncy, lofty, squishy sock yarn with it, like some of the American and Japanese brands. We've got a few natural shades of Blue Faced Leicester, and we'll get into harder-wearing sock yarns with these, like some popular millspuns from Europe. And then we have a few blends, like the Karaoke merino/soysilk blend featured in "Spinning for Socks: Colour!, and...

...some of my drum-carded luxury sock blends, and a bit of that pencil roving, and a longwool, and... yeah. Lots of stuff. And I should be finishing making the packets, instead of sitting here blogging in the dreary rain, warily eyeing the increasingly sodden back yard and exclaiming, "Holy crap, is that a new stream in the neighbours' horse pasture?"

It's my hope that people will leave this day-long workshop with the tools to spin the sock yarn they really want, and with some food for thought about socks in general, and what they'd like to get out of their socks, and how they can produce custom yarns that make that more possible than the mill does.

I've still got to make a handful of spindles for folks to try in the spindle class, and make sure I've got enough for folks to choose one to take home, and I have to put together student folders with the paper handouts. And I have a few more samples to spin to be handed around, and the ones dealing with colour need to be wrapped so they show how the colour works. If this series goes well, I'll probably want to extend the show-and-tell materials, and have actual socks to pass around if I do this one again, much. Indeed, workshop prep can take as much time as the workshop itself!