Monday, July 20, 2009

Miscellania (pic heavy)

Look, look--Ice Queen is finished!

The lace is growing--really. You might have to trust me on this one.

I got fiber Saturday--isn't it pretty? Sorry about the plastic bags; a certain kitty finds fiber almost as irristible as plants. The color is pretty accurate despite that, amazingly! The very mossy color is a baby camel/silk blend--deliciously soft; the bright green and blue is four ounces of Falkland, and my next spinning project; the muted fall colors is painted on grey Merino--yummy! The camel/silk and Merino are both upwards of 3.5 oz, but not quite 4 oz. The Etsy seller is FeltStudio UK, and she has an incredible amount of stuff, which is all amazing! She's added tencel since I bought my swag, there's superwash Merino and Merino/Tencel in addition to Falkland and Merino, there's luxury rovings like my camel/silk and beautiful batts! She even sells handspun yarn if your piece of cake isn't the raw (ish) fiber.

This is a baby sampler braid that the seller very kindly included; isn't it cute?

I spun it yesterday on my pretty Golding spindle. It's a bit thick and thin, but very pretty and fine. I'm impressed at how much better I can spin on a delicate spindle. But of course the true test will be whether I can keep it up for 4 oz together.........

Sunday, July 19, 2009


Mom has been invalid-ish recently; she had surgery last Friday, and while it was fairly minor in that she was home the same day, any surgery is going to affect what you're capable of accomplishing for some weeks. This means that for the past week, the gruntwork of keeping up the house has largely been on my shoulders. Now Mom is up and around and feeling better, which means she is also noticing everything about the house which hasn't been done.

Understand that I am not blogging about this in self-defense. Mom is realizing almost for the first time just how much I do, so this is actually the first time I haven't felt guilty about what I haven't done, when we go through this cycle of Mom not being able to take care of the house (most often because she's working), then looking at it and saying, 'because I haven't done it, it hasn't been done.' Nor am I blogging it in accusation, or saying that I do everything and it isn't fair. This is purely about the balance of my own life, and if that is selfish, so be it. (My blog, after all.)

Mom brought this up herself, last night--I do a lot of the stuff around the house. I am laundress; meal planner; grocery assistant; chef ordinaire and baker extraordinaire (translation in my world: I do lots of cooking and almost all the baking); I am scullion the nights I don't cook dinner; I fetch and carry for Mom; I am cat wrangler; I moonlight as in-house tech support for Mom (I don't know much, but I do what I can well). All this while contributing to the tidiness of the main portions of the house, keeping up with three active hobbies (knitting, spinning, and biking), practicing a demanding instrument, still having high school coursework, and continuing to eat, sleep, bathe, read, and go out in public. In short, I do enough for three normal people, and the fact that I don't manage to do everything perfectly is less remarkable than the fact that I have a life that is remotely balanced! I need reminded sometimes--often, in fact--that I do a lot, because it's too easy to focus on what isn't done still.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Wake up!


Sleepy Cinnabars (human) sticks hand over edge of bed, cat rubs head on hand. Hand is hastily withdrawn as Cinnabar (cat) nips at it.

*yawn* If you want more pets, rotten, get up on the bed--I know you can.

Cinnabar promptly lands, complete with sharp, hooky claws and the feline faculty for putting entire weight on one paw, on Cinnabars's arm.


Cinnabar paces around head. Head squints at clock, is faintly horrified at the figures 6:55. Hand is again held up for cat to rub on; hand again avoids nibbling teeth. Cinnabar purrs louder; Cinnabars attempts to decide whether she wants crunchy (kibbles) or wet food (nummies). Cinnabar advances to starfish paws on the human's side; Cinnabars notices the other feline presence hovering in the hall and decides on nummies. Cinnabars reaches for watch and glasses case; Cinnabar watches narrowly. Cinnabars puts on glasses and reaches for rings; Cinnabar rubs face on glasses.

Cinnabars finally gets up--7:00 on the dot. Gets to end of bed, then softly calls Cinnabar, who is in the middle of the vacated sheets. Cinnabar gladly follows to kitchen, where nothing more eventful occurs than nummies being put down for both cats.

Cinnabars goes back to her room, where she attempts a bit of reading in bed. No later than 7:10, Cinnabar is concentrating on her from beside the bed. Cinnabars tries to ignore her, on the grounds that she has been fed already. Cinnabar demands attention with a patient (not!) chirrup. Cinnabars expostulates. Cinnabar is imperturbable. Cinnabars gets up, and Cinnabar leads her to the kibble dish. Cinnabars attempts waving a string; Cinnabar stares at the kibble dish. Cinnabars gives up and puts kibbles in the dish for Cinnabar, who purrs as she eats.

--In case you were wondering why my screen name is Cinnabars everywhere, this is why. It's the possessive of Cinnabar.--

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

A Study

A tale, perhaps, of two desks. A Hyde of desks, and--well, perhaps that would be pushing the metaphor too far.

Here you observe the first desk, a marvelous display of entropy (and this, mind you, is after I picked up the camera, and a small bag that had been covering that only bare scrap of desk there at the front!). My desk is...... not exactly the epitome of tidiness most of the time. You might say.

And here is the grand transformation, after the application of effort for perhaps ten minutes. It is not clear, you note--if you have a sharp eye for that sort of thing you can see much the same stuff round the edges--but with relatively little effort, I think I could now work at my desk! *sounds of shock, amazement, gratified murmurs* I could even put my violin case there, so I was not taking up the entire foot of my bed with it, and feel thus capable of picking it up at odd moments, without having to set it up every flippin' time!

I expect Mom will be thrilled--it still probably can't count as an anniversary present. Sigh. (Tomorrow evening, maybe, sister? We could at least get them a card, and cute plushies.......)