I have to give my family credit for putting up with the racket, because as some of you may know, it's not the easiest thing in the world to live with a kid who's trying to become a rock and roll drummer.--Max Weinberg
She rocks. And then she marches. I am proud to be the grandmother of a band geek. Yes, the Punk Princess has been spending a good deal of her time since August doing band stuff, besides practicing with her band, Yo Jimmy.
The Morris Hills HS Marching Band drumline is #1 in NJ. Needless to say, I've become a big band supporter, especially since I spent yesterday in Allentown, PA watching the kids compete in their final competition of the year. It was the first time I went and it was pleasant to sit in the stands with Corinne, knitting and watching all the kids.
Liz is playing the bass drum this year--she's second from the left. Next year she'll advance to the quints, which are five little drums that the drummer wears in a carrier. Seniority counts in band, particularly in the drumline. But what's more important to me is that these kids work damned hard and are learning not only how to be the best they can but they're learning discipline and teamwork. It's all about excellence. Something we see little of these days.
I would suggest that W, Cheney and Rummy join a HS marching band to learn a few of these qualities. It may be necessary to demand that future presidential candidates be band geeks.
I can honestly say that I possibly fear warping as much as I did Kitchener stitch at one time. Perhaps more.
So after a long hiatus, I'm back to the loom. Frankly, there was little time for weaving and dealing with Slovenians.
So, against the advice of my mentor, Ms. "be careful with this shit" Loopy, I started this morning with the Morehouse laceweight that I bought at Rhinebeck.
OK, so I don't listen well. But I think if I take my time, the warp will be fine.
The orange-y side shows in this picture but there is a large dollop of rose and a bit of warm brown. All in all, a most pleasing colorway.
So for those of you interested in the particulars, I've decided to weave this in a 1/3 twill, at a sett of 24. I'll be using my 10-dent reed. We'll see how this comes out.
The aim is to weave a scarf first. I was going to do a shawl but then figured why get overly confident. Besides, I'm still a rank novice. So maybe a shawl next.
Despite the insane activity of Buster the Kitten, I managed to get the skein wound into a ball.
Now, as a sidebar, I recently had a gentleman caller who was interested in exactly what this "equipment" does.
Being a tad coy, I said, "That contraption over there is a ball winder."
"Oh, how does it work?"
"I put it between your legs and crank the handle."
As they say in bad novels, he blanched. So this picture is for him. Because perhaps he took me seriously.
I have a ways to go yet. One of these days I'm going to hang this warping board so I don't have to abuse my 56-year-old knees.
If I'm going to get down on my knees, it's not going to be to warp anything. Or clean floors.
So at the rate I am going, I probably won't get the loom completely warped until next weekend, unless I can do a little when I get home from work.
That being at 5 p.m. or so these days. And I do have a lot more time on my hands now so I am hoping I will be able to publish a middle-of-the-week entry as well.
We'll see. No promises.
Yeah, I'm not there. Thank God. I'm sure we'll all read reports about it on other blogs. Frankly, other than the Dragon Boy committing some obscene fashion act, which I'm expecting, I honestly don't feel like I've missed a damned thing.
The truth is, I'm jaded. I do acknowledge that I have the opportunity to go to Rhinebeck, to MD S&W, to Stitches East because I live in the Northeast in close proximity. I know that there are many, many people who would love to do these things and to them I say, if you can, do go.
But I've been to too many of them and this point, it's the same crap year after year, pretty much. I have plenty of fiber stock and I don't honestly need much of anything any more.
Unless I use up my stash, which is impossible. Loopy and I have a deal: Whoever goes to the big LYS in the sky first gives the other their stash. That's what friends are for. Although I won't include the Rubbermaid container of gray Lopi that my mother insisted I take. Because I really am her dear friend, and friends don't gift friends with Lopi.
So I'll just have a little rare and handy fiber party right here in Wharton in lieu of Stitches. And odds are, a lot of the party invitees came from Stitches past anyway.