house & home pt. II

old bottles (am starting a collection?), deer skull, mirror found by the side of the road, shimano 105 derailleurs for a friend, soon-to-be-given-away money-plant from home, all on a bookcase.

Blocking.

Spinning Wheel

I think we all knew this day would happen. Namely, the day when I got my hands on a spinning wheel*, and promptly lost all desire to do anything else (do homework, go to class, see friends, eat, sleep, leave this machine at all).

Despite the consequences, this is a beautiful picture. An appropriate caption would be, maybe, something like, “Caroline + Lendrum, Together Forever,” except, you know, this is not forever.

(also, note, revived sandals, on their 5th cobbling– this time with real nails!– & somehow still going strong).

and I’m spinning Corriedale top from Three Waters Farm, at a fingering/lace weight. I’ve not got a lazy kate, so everything I spin, I’ll knit single, which is fine. Takes less time, at any rate.

The nice thing about a spinning wheel is the same thing which is nice about a bicycle (a fun game: playing count-how-many-wheels-are-in-this-room. I think 7 or 8 was our record)– more effective than doing said task Absolutely Simply (spinning on a spindle, going à pied), but the only energy input is still one’s own. Also, its workings are immediately apparant (Look, different gears for different speeds: makes sense), for more immediate understanding (and quicker repair).

Here, we see a very advanced and difficult variation on the “let the wool dry by hanging it on a doorknob method,” which is based on the principle of the Sunnier Back Porch, and the Heavy Peanut Butter Jar.

I bought (and received) 12 oz. of wool ingesamt, which will spin to ~1200 yards of yarn. Which I’m planning on using for a Cobblestone Pullover.

So, I have half of it done so far, as well as some merino I’d been begrudgingly spinning, and some more birthday-wool from the farm. Will let it rest during the bike-trip, and start work once I get back, I think.

*NOT TOGETHER FOREVER: this spinning wheel isn’t mine. Rather, it’s an “I never use this and feel guilty about never using this, so if you want to go ahead and let your girlfriend use it for a while, please do, but I need it back sometime in August,” present. Which is perhaps even more perfect, because, imagine my conflicting loyalties between this (seductively productive) and schoolwork (menacingly necessary), come fall semester.

It would basically look like this

but in reverse: Caroline v. Rumpplications to Graduate Stiltskin, OR: spinning words into stipends.

house & home

so, this is a new addition. Birdhouse (provenance: great-grandmother’s house. clearly it is now somewhere more humble.) sanded, primed, painted & hung over the weekend.

I remember my sister once trying to use it as a bird-trap, and drawing a disdainful schematic of the trap in my nature journal. (~8 years old).

there are dried hydrangeas in it, and owls on it– enough to make me happy.

No word on Astrid’s projected reaction; do not think I will get a fake bird for it, or turn it into any other sort of art installation. I think it is a good thing by itself.

The Tempest, Act V Scene I

[here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess.]

in which astrid-the-cat has two cameos.

Finally, Elizabeth’s school bag is finished– just in time to be a day late for her birthday.

Pattern: Satchel

Yarn: Knit Picks Wool of the Andes in Coal, 7 skeins insgesamt

Needles: Can’t remember.

Maybe the strap is a little long (and stretchy); maybe the black will show cat hairs a little too readily. This is an almost-exact replica of the bag I carry everywhere (powerfully ugly, quite shapeless, the color of dirt, indestructible, begrudgingly loved), except that the strap is in garter stitch instead of stockinette (less rolly, but more stretchy).

Hopefully she likes it.

and:

commissioned to please-finish-this-project-I-am-sick-of-it. All that’s left is the non-knitting part; things may get exponentially slower.

Domesticity

Knitting:

the vest I’ve been making for Dad for his birthday– not quite done. Worked up the armholes last night, in a Girl-Talk-fueled, long-needed stretch.

Baking:

I am proud of this. The enticingly named “Fast White Bread” from the Joy of Cooking. I haven’t tried it yet; am resisting the urge to call everyone I know and invite them over to try some. (“You want me to come over to… what? Eat white bread?).

Mending:

Sewing on a button, sewing a ripped seam (the only possible outcome of biking in a dress– it’s going to happen, sooner or later).

Otherwise:

I will finish this precis on Winston Churchill before I go to work at 6.

collect.

- I came home with salt in my eyelashes,

- read the word “salivate” the imperative form (2nd person plural) of the made-up verb “salivo, salivare” (meaning remained unchanged),

- ate nutella for dinner.

all well with the world.

a pan of baked kale for lunch

and, for Maggie, a headband, for warmth-while-biking, in exchange for contact solution (I was out).

Pattern: Calorimetry

Yarn: Leftover Devon from ages ago (bayerische socken), leftover peruvian baby silk from last year (a cardigan I gave to Nic), leftover Jawoll from this summer (cabled socks; Nic’s gloves). All used up. Success.

Needles: size 7 Takumi straights.

pretty.

EPIC FAIL

the success of candied oranges and candied ginger went, perhaps, to my head.

but, then again, candied grapefruit is not too unreasonable of a leap.

this is why I ate 6 grapefruits yesterday– for their peels.

cut them up, blanch them a few times to get the pesticides off, etc etc.

shouldn’t be too difficult.

although the pot is full of what looks like tentacles.

roll them in sugar, let them dry, not a problem.

Schön, oder?

except!: the fact that they are NOT DELICIOUS– instead, they have this unfortunate bitter aftertaste.

you’d think they’d be tasty. you’d think it’d be just like candied orange peels. you’d think blanching them would get rid of the bitterness.

not so!

so, what I’ve been doing is:

eating one, recoiling. a few minutes later, convincing myself, “maybe they’re not so bad. maybe it was just that one. maybe you can get over how bitter they are,” and having another one.

this has got to end.

the sad thing: there are so many of them– 6 grapefruit’s worth.

at least the house smells like grapefruit.