Chris and Nina

One fine day last week I checked the online postage tracking on some roving I had ordered, when I realized that it was sitting in my mailbox, right outside.  It was late in the day, and pretty much dark, but in my excitement to see what the fiber fairy delivered, I neglected both outerwear and porch lights.  This became important immediately for two reasons:

1.  It was raining (of course it was raining).
2.  My sadistic sociopath next-door neighbor had upended several of the bricks which trim the landscape area between our two driveways. 

This subtle, yet significant change in the elevation of the bricks I usually step lightly over on my way to the mailbox resulted in the following; expressed as an equation:

    Ass     x Dirt + Rain + Anticipation of New Fiber = Muddy, Bruised & Pissed
Tea Kettle

I don't remember the last time a stretch of wet flower bed rushed up to meet me so quickly, but the impact on my 39-year-old butt and my forward momentum was both immediate and profound.  Plus I was super muddy, and did I mention Pissed?  What kind of creature arbitrarily turns previously horizontal bricks on their ends?  The woman is a complete menace, which fact I asserted loudly to the sodden darkness around me, along with some other choice vocabulary that I'm glad the smallies couldn't hear.  I hauled myself up from the muck, just as the wetness of the mud broke the surface tension between my jeans and my lingerie.  Now my ass was both bruised and damp.  Recovering my enthusiasm to get to the mailbox, if not my dignity, I limped across the alley like a three-legged card table. 

I relate this experience because it illustrates so perfectly my core assumption:  Fiber Cures Everything.  Look what was in the mailbox that night!

Campbell seized on the fluffy mound of combed top the minute I explained that I had chosen it for him (his favorite colors = green + aqua)  He squished it in his arms and buried his face in it, proclaiming that it was his precious new pet, hereafter to be called "Chris".  Lindsay did the same with her pencil roving in shades of blue and violet, pronouncing hers "Nina", and forbidding me to play with it.  I assumed that as soon as the novelty wore off, the children would allow me to spin the fibers.  Or if not, they had to go to sleep sometime.  Strangely, it turned out to be the latter, when I realized days later that neither child had returned "their" fiber to  me for spinning.  I finally found both rovings in their respective smally rooms, hidden under the beds.  Creepy Development, that.  I don't know if there is room enough in our small house for more than one fiber hoarder.  Especially if they're gonna hog the good stuff:

"Chris": 420 yards of 3-ply BFL, 11 wpi.

"Chris": 420 yards of 3-ply BFL, 11 wpi.

Campbell asked for Chris to become a pair of mittens, and possibly a matching scarf.  I am happy to comply.  I love the way Chris' three plies are so blend-y.  Also crazy for the bounce and lustre of BFL.  It's always been a favorite of mine to knit, so spinning it seemed an obvious place to start.  The colorway is called "As Above, So Below", and you can get it here.

"Nina": 2-ply Corriedale, 14 wpi, with my first full bobbin, yardage TBD.

"Nina": 2-ply Corriedale, 14 wpi, with my first full bobbin, yardage TBD.

Lindsay has requested that Nina become a triangular shawl, which will be another first for me.  Corriedale is just the sproingy-est - so much fun to spin.  I tried it out in pencil roving, thinking that it would be easy to draft, which turned out to be true.  The 2 plies are very stripe-y, which I completely dig.  This colorway is named "Before Sunset", and you can find it here.

So that's the news from my house:  Butt bruised, fiber found, spinning spun.  Life Is Good.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I snapped out of it and did the required work on my book.  Still haven't decided on what my self-bribery reward will be though...I'm busy rearranging a certain number of my evil neighbor's bricks.