Chickenlips Knitting

Dewd, if you've gotta be on a leash, it might as well be attached to a super-cute puppy or koala bear backpack.

















Now I've absolutely nothing against spinning, or those who enjoy it--I'm all for making your own yarn, exactly the way you want it, and I get that it's relaxing, much the way knitting is for me (unless I'm doing socks and they won't "do right," as my mom-in-law says). Nope, I gave spinning the old college try not once, but twice, both on a drop spindle and a wheel. Fiber arts people tend to be more patient than most, and my spinning teachers would have sat with me for hours if I'd let them, determined as they were to help me learn how. I was the one who gave up, and I'm OK with not mastering spinning, because knitting keeps me happily busy and then some. But if you're me, and you happen to be around lots of people spinning roving, beware of saying "I just couldn't get it" because someone will try to teach you.

Warning: I will now attempt an anecdote, so before you take that Ambien, read on. While roaming all sections of the exhibition hall--3 big rooms of wonderful stuff--I started to get hungry, but for the past week I've completely avoided sugarbreadricepotatoespasta, and couldn't bring myself to stand in line for a (mediocre) burger and curly fries from one of those booths like they have at the county fair. Lunchtime came and went, but still I shopped, not wanting to have to leave to go find diet-friendly (and more palatable) food. At this point you may be wondering, "if she's on a diet, why didn't she plan for that and bring something?" All I can say is, I'm all about spontaneity, which makes me a lousy dieter. Aaanyway, I happened by some ladies using drop spindles, and when one (spindle, not lady) clattered to the floor, I quipped, "guess that's why they call it a drop spindle." Oh, I'm a caution, I am. The lady who dropped her spinning smiled and said something like, "It's a challenge."

My reply, as I eyed some handmade jewelry, was something along the lines of "I tried it but can't do it."

Lady #2, decked out in handspun, hand-dyed, handwoven and handknit colorrific riot, piped up "That's because you haven't tried the draft-and-park method."

At this, I began an inner dialogue which seems long but really wasn't.

My brain: Oh God.
My stomach: Get me a ham sandwich. Without the bread, we're on a diet.
My brain: Shut up. Keep smiling. Watch, you might learn something.

The spinner sat with the drop spindle between her knees, fiddled and diddled with the string (which I know is called a "lead"), patiently coaxed the fibers apart and commenced to show me her spinning mojo.

Me: Oh, I see. That's really cool.
My stomach: Ham.

Spinner: Just don't let the twist go up into your fingers.

I thanked her for the demonstration, left, spent a bunch of time driving around Eugene looking for a place to eat, and found an IHOP just in the nick of time. The spinach salad with chicken wasn't bad.




Have a wonderful week--here's an eyeful of gorgeous lace shawls, and enticing roving.