Can you guess what this is made of? It's slubby and bumpy and generally ugly, but I am unabashedly proud of it - sort of like admiring your baby's spit-up, I'd imagine.
The lovely Amie (check out her article for Knitter's Review - wonderfully written and a must-read for anyone traveling to Sheep & Wool this weekend) came armed with tasty things last night: a drop spindle, her own excellent instruction, and more than enough fiber for me to spin happily, clumsily, obliviously, until it was suddenly much later at night than anyone had planned on.
From left to right: a little Dorset roving, a little Merino top, and an attempt at some mohair. Not pictured: the snarled, slubbly, broken, knotted, and tangled bits and gibbles my office is littered with.
What a wonderfully thoughtful gift (I've been meaning to learn to spin for months) - what a frighteningly effective way to lose hours! It's gratifying to know that you're making progress, of course, but to actually see that each attempt is a little better, drafting a little easier, thickness a little more even, plied yarn balanced a bit better? Completely addicting. The possibility of a wheel, of laceweight, of shawls knit in my own cobwebby yarn? Intoxicating. Thank you, Amie!
The breather from last week is...still breathing. I knit hardly at all over the weekend, but I'm getting back to it - a light summer shell in Hempathy. The hand is quite soft, but the patterning is nice and crisp.
It'll have a high, very wide boatneck - demure and sweet over a camisole, except -
The back is cut to the curve of the spine. Worn the right way - over a backless, nude-colored bustier, with a businesslike pencil skirt and Serious Slingbacks - it will be incendiary.