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Woke up to find a USPS package sitting in the shop. It’s my roving! Three pounds of the stuff, and (much to my shock and delight) it is exactly the same stuff that I was trying to reorder from the other eBay seller.

I’m slightly, very slightly, disappointed that it’s not different because I was looking forward to experimenting with something new. I’ll get over it.

There.

I’m over it.

Matt and I decided to buy a new lathe, we picked out a 14×40″ lathe with 4 speeds, live center and 6″ grinding disk, now we’re agonizing on how to reorganize the shop so that all our toys are accessible. We need a larger shop, but I think the bathroom remodel takes priority since whenever I sit on the toilet it rocks and leans to the right and the wall in the shower is very damaged. Need workspace yes– need a toilet.. yes.

My guys have decided to get all macho and started sanding the dining room floor with palm sanders. I stayed long enough to snap a few pics of the historic occassion and sequestered myself away in the shop, now that it’s break time it’s safe for me to upload pics and sing along to Johnny Cash for a couple of minutes.

Grrr… I’m monomanic about supplies, which is why when I buy things I buy in larger quantities. A “sample” for fiber is about 8oz minimum, that’s just enough for me to decide if I like it, if I want to dye it (or blend it) or if I think it’s better for felting or spinning. I prefer whole 1lbs “samples”.

I’m the same with pens and art supplies, I buy the big bulk packs meant for schools and businesses because I can’t stand changing types or brands, or Heaven Forbid I can’t find what I want-need-always-use in the middle of a project. Ugh! It’s not pretty folks, I will scrap a piece and start over before changing mid-stream.

I would probably die outright if they ever stop producing Gorilla Glue or Liquid Frisket.

I asked an eBay seller if she had anymore of the roving that I bought last month as I’d like to buy more, she says “I’ll post it in a day or two”– okay, good– deep breathing time..

So she just now gets around to posting it and it’s only one pound– that’s like letting me lick the lid of a yogurt container– it’s just not going to make lunch satisfying. I hope she posts more because I really like the stuff (I know I have 3lbs coming from another source but it’s different!) So darned frustrating.

I’ve found that most people are self sabotaging, she could have said “Okay, but this time it’s $XX.XX per pound plus $XX.XX for shipping– when do you want it and how would you like to pay?” and I would have probably gone for it, skipping around doing a little dance, making a sandwich, and reporting happily to my husband that I was getting more wool– how often does it happen that someone comes to you and says “I really want to give you money in a fair exchange for product?” without any marketing?

But it’s like one of these real estate agents that are willing to let a whole deal slide (and lose a huge commission) because the seller won’t fix a loose nail on a porch step and the buyer wants the step fixed– if the agent had any sense what-so-ever he’d go out with a hammer and fix the darned step himself: buyer happy, seller happy, agent happy.

Back to my theory that 99% of human conflict is ego driven.

Speaking of ego, I am having a heck of a time trying to knit up the orange skein that I dyed. I was trying to make a little drawstring bag from it, but it just looked so very wrong (it’s lovely stuff because it looks rather hot and flamey) I have frogged the whole thing.

Josey’s taking a nap, he’s still in quitter mode. I tried sitting with him while he’s working but then he wants to engage me in conversation rather than focus on his work. So I grabbed my spindle, gave him a kiss and left the room. He chose to ask for a nap a few minutes later claiming “my hands are tired.”

Yeah, okay. I can buy that one, so I got him ready and reminded him to put his stuff away and now he’s happily in dreamland buying me an hour or so of quiet time.

I have to take all the fruit off of the trees today: 1) they can’t heal and extend the energy on bearing fruit 2) had to spray with neem to prevent fungal infection inside the xylem (vascular tissue of trees) 3) had to use a pretty mild yet not food safe fertilizer around the roots and I don’t want the neighborhood kids eating it and getting sick (I don’t mind if they eat the fruit normally, I think it’s kind of cool that they can grab a free snack on their way to the park from our trees etc– but I don’t want them getting sick).

ON the needles… sheesh! I’m getting so behind in everything that I need to do and finish– I bought three lbs of wool roving on eBay and it’ll be in the mail on it’s way here Monday. My husband– “Don’t you have enough wool? You have two full fleeces in there.”
“No, I don’t have enough.”
“But-!”

Yeah, so asketh the man that has how many models in open boxes in the shop? I have never ever told him not to buy a model, a tool, a toy, clothing, boots, or gear. I have never ever even implied that he shouldn’t have a good stock of his own WIPs and UFOs. He has so many UFOs I could call MUFON and file a report.

Let’s see, hmm, when did I buy him all of the Star Trek Voyager models? Before we were married and they still aren’t done. “I need to get the right paint.” Well, sheesh Honey– go get the paint!

Truth is, in his heart he’s just like me and every other knitter. He has to switch projects, he has to tinker and refine and he can’t just follow the instructions he must improve on them.

I’m a bit disturbed by the blog thread on the knitlist, someone came up with this (I’m going to paraphrase for brevity) “knitting blogs are a good idea but boring because they aren’t written by me and this is what my blog will have…blah, blah, blah..” and (of course) a non-knitting quasi-knitting blog discussion ensues.

I think it’s interesting that the person that started the thread didn’t actually ever start writing a weblog. Very unknitterly behavior, first because not everyone that knits writes well and secondly I keep hearing that song from Annie Get Your Gun: “Anything You Can Do.”

Frustration.

I’m tired but not sleepy at all, listening to Coast to Coast am, it’s Barbara tonight talking to a psychic and a cop that works with psychics. Interesting but not terribly engaging. I miss falling asleep to Art Bell’s voice, not that I don’t like Barbara and George– they are great, it’s just that– well… I miss listening to Art.

Josey had a hard day today, he is good at so many things but when he tries something and he’s not good immediately he wants to give up, he tried to get out of his lessons today “Because they’re hard..”

I could have screamed, instead I kept my cool and told him that a great many things are hard but that makes the experience all the more satifying– yeah, I know it’s one of those things that we parents are supposed to say, but I think it’s true. I don’t think he believed me but he did settle in for a half hearted attempt at paying attention.

I spilled tea on the baby blanket I was working on, I rinsed it with cold water and set it out on the picnic table in the front yard, I figure by the time I remember where I put the darn thing it should be all dry. So I knocked out some more baby and toddler socks– wondering if I should keep them for my baby, donate them for someone elses or save them for gifts? I just don’t know.

Before I had no problem dropping the baby stuff I knit at Birthright or a local hospital because on average 1/3 of American newborns go home from the hospital wearing nothing more than a diaper. I didn’t realize that until I had Josey and my ex did something other than buy Josey reception clothing with the money I’d saved for reception clothes and the hospital gave me a layette set that some kind soul had crafted and donated so my baby wouldn’t have to go home naked in the middle of a nice snow storm. It’s got to be the homeliest thing I’ve ever put on my son but it’s one of the items that I most treasure because of the sentiment of some kind person.

Because of the whole ordeal though, I just burn when someone says “It’s just for charity.” justifying their lack of care or the overt ugliness of the materials– I KNOW what it’s like to be on either end, and odds are just-for-charity-project-x will end up being someones treasured heirloom regardless of the flaws and ugliness, so I’m very careful to only donate things that I would give to my own family.

But now it seems wrong to keep giving away newborn stuff that I make with my own grubby paws and not keep at least some of it for my own baby. Like maybe I care more for a strangers baby than for my own–? This is twisted. The obvious answer is to divy the stuff up and then when my baby outgrows it give some more away and keep some for heirlooms.

Started getting over heated on the ladder so I decided to come inside, hopefully it will cool down later and I’ll be able to pick up again where I left off, turned on the drip hose so at least some of the moisture the trees are losing can be replaced. I’m not after perfection on the level of Martha Stewart, I just want things to be beautiful– that’s why I do all of this– everything I do.

I realized quite young that we didn’t have the money to buy all the pretty girl things, that if I wanted something that I would have to make it because I couldn’t ask my parents for it. I learned to paint, to sew, to embroider, to whittle, to scrimshaw, to spin, weave, crochet (and much later to knit), bead, sculpt, carve, and construct. I learned all that growing up because I wanted things around me, I wanted to have and give what I couldn’t afford. Later I picked up odd skills because I never got used to paying for things what I figured I could make for myself. I learned to garden because I liked the taste of the large red onions that my mom always claimed were too expensive to buy at the grocery store.

I learned about botany through my love of watercolors, and through botany I learned about anatomy, and through anatomy I learned about (of all things) wood cut printing and so forth.

I guess back then knowing different skills was a safety net of sorts, I never felt that I was denied things as a child but my sister and I never felt entitled to demand things when we knew full well that our parents were working so hard for the money they brought home.

It’s odd that now that I have all the talents for making the ‘pretty girl things’ that I always wanted, I prefer Carharts (when I’m not so pregnant that I can’t fit into them) and chamois boots to silky dresses and high heels. I make lace that I would never wear (would look out of sorts with overalls) but it’s pretty trim for my curtains. I sew toys. I make clothes. I knit socks. And I’m happy in general, occupied and happy.

Then there’s my shop– it’s great. I don’t have all the tools I want or need but it’s a good little workshop and when Josey’s asleep I sneak out of the house with my husband and we go tinker– it’s never really work– just two people hanging out and making stuff. When I don’t feel like wood-working or repairing machines I take my knitting or spinning out and work on that while Matt does his thing. It’s cool– It’s the kind of marriage I would have never figured myself lucky enough to have.

Being Jane of *Most* Trades that I am Matt indulges my whims out of part curiosity and part amusement– this last week I’ve been talking about planting mulberry. “Why mulberry?” he asks.

“To feed the silk worms.” I answer.

“Silk worms?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about bug-farming.” and so goes the conversation.

He’s just as nutty as I am but he doesn’t think so, I’m nutty in an odd way he says. He’s nutty in a… well…. ya’ gotta be a little nutty to be married to a nut– so it works out. He’s practical and nutty perhaps? His is a more utilitarian eccentricity, practical problem solving nuttiness.

My best-friend from Jr. High and High School is visiting from Kansas, we took the kids to lunch yesterday and did a little catching up. I spent most of the same afternoon bawling helplessly after she left and keeping myself from doing anything hostile to my neighbors.

Here’s the story..

We have an apple hedge on our side of the property line, not just apple trees, an apple hedge. The trees are dwarfed and intertwining and if I understand correctly my grandmother planted them 30+ years ago, I do know my grandma was a terrific gardener and she groomed the trees (and all the other landscaping) pristinely until age and MS prevented her from doing much of anything (about 1991 to 1992), the trees were neglected when the house sat empty before we moved in to take care of things, for about 3 years, no maintence at all.

They have suffered boring worms, wilt, peach fuzz, moss, and God-only-knows. When we moved in I cleaned out the dead-wood (since there was so much moss I had to be very careful not to thin out too much of the living and because it was domant it was sometimes hard to distinguish what was alive and dormant from what was dead.) In the spring I sprayed and kept the hygene of the plants, carefully cleaning up so that fungus wouldn’t attack the exposed tissues. I brushed for moss in the summer, added root cover to build up the soil over exposed roots, and watered them so carefully.

This is the third year, and this spring and summer– the trees were finally healthy enough that I could look forward to pruning them after they’d gone dormant in the fall.

Well what do my neighbors do? They hire some kid– in the heat of summer to prune. I went out there saying “No no no… please stop!” and the kid looks at me like I’m crazy, I told him “You can’t cut these you’ll kill them.”

He tells me, “I’m just taking off the sides and top.”

“No. You’ll kill them, you need to stop.”

“But it’s my job…”

“These are my trees! My grandmother planted these and you aren’t supposed to prune fruit trees until they’re dormant. You’ll kill them and you need to stop.”

The kid acts all annoyed with me and walks away. I come home to find that he did stop cutting on the top but didn’t stop cutting on my neighbors side. My husband talked to some agronomists and asked what kind of triage we might be able to perform in order to save my trees– they aren’t just ugly now– they may die. The neighbors haven’t said a word to me, although they’ve seen me outside and I’m in no condition to talk to them– I told Matt that he’ll have to have a conversation with them because I’m so tied to the hedge that I’m just not going to be rational.

The hedge itself is clearly at least 3 feet from the property line, and I don’t know why they even thought they could have someone prune my trees as they’ve seen me out there working on them for three years. At least two are looking really bad, and the trees aren’t identified so I have to wait until they drop their leaves and clone some branches– I can’t just go out and buy similarly sized trees because they won’t be the same, then I’ll have to carefully cut out anything that died, plant the clone and graft it in.

I know I could be a bitch and hire an arborist to come out and do the work and take them to court for the bill, I don’t think they were being mean– just really very stupid.

Then they don’t even have the testicular fortitude to come over and ask about what happened? It’s not a matter of mis-communications– it’s a matter of no communications– they could have come over before all of this and asked “What’s your plan?” or “Would it be okay?”

I could just scream! I probably would but now I’m past my due date, the size of a whale and take snippers and paste to all the exposed xylem so that my trees don’t dye of rot or boring insects and I don’t have the energy to exert on screaming.

Spinning some of the Ice Raspberry Lemonaide, which actually looks rather like a cross between a really really pastel russian sage and sea foam green.

It’s turning out much nicer than I expected, the green batch of roving took the Kool-Aid differently (although with similarly pleasant results) as well. I think I might mix things up a little and ply some of these singles with some natural colored wool for a nice tweed, and then dream up a good small project.

My little wool/knitting bag finally went kaput! and died in the laundry. I’ll have to make a new one, I was tossing around the idea of knitting another one but then I found the canvass that I used to make the first one and figured that I’d stick with tradition. Although this time, I’m going to make two or three all at once so that I’ll have a knitting bag stash for my travelling projects.

Shopping eBay today, just looking actually since I’m not too serious of an eBayer.

I don’t like real life shopping, not even going to the grocery store. I’m so much more of an online shopper– it’s fun to browse without some nut-case minimum wage slave jumping all over me eager for a commission. I used to work retail so I know all about minimum wage slavery– poor bastards.

I’m half-tempted to list the Ashford on eBay and see what it goes for. I’m way more of a spindler, it’s more satifying, slower so that it occupies my short attention span longer.

More dying today, some lemon-lime Kool-Aid for the fabulous green and some Ice Blue Raspberry for some subdued blue. The house smells very fruity at the moment, like Sour Worms.