Much to write, but little time, so in short:

Goddard’s residency was the experience of a lifetime. Really. “They” say you go to Goddard as you are and come home leaving as who you want to be. Maybe that should be, who you are meant to be–because I didn’t mean to come back the way I did, but I see now it’s who I should be–in a good way. I learned a lot about writing, but I learned more about life: like how one really can’t choose, in the end, who impacts them. This seems ambiguous. Let me just say, sometimes, we try really hard not to care, but then we realize, oh damn, I do care. Again, very ambiguous, but… Vermont was so surreal, so wonderfully isolated and created such a tightknit community. K, M, S, B, OK and OK–what wonderful people. I know I’m leaving some good friends out, but these were the ambiguously-initialed individuals who had the greatest impact on not only my work, but also my life. I learned a lot about being an individual and letting my individuality serve as a parenting mechanism in itself. Here I thought that having a “life of my own” was a bad thing–but I learned from OK and OK and M and a few others that kids appreciate a mom who fulfills a dream, who proves things don’t have to end because the unexpected kicks your ass.

UGH. I can’t say what I want to say here–not well, anyway.

The pattern for Lark Books is seriously a drain–but I think I can do that. I’m wondering now, though, how I will write/read/write/write so much for the next six months and keep up with everything else. I guess we’ll see.

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Really. I try not to whine. But pattern writing is haaaaarrrrd! But a good challenge. Lark Books has accepted my zip-collar design–which is AWEsome, but it’s also an unexpected thing. Should have taken myself a little more seriously, I suppose. More details later…

I’m actually excited about Kid’s Camp now. Yay for me.

And here are those pictures of my feeble spinning-endeavors:

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I do have pictures of the spinning.

Ah, ah! Wait, first, I have to torture you with news in the way of Kid’s Camp at Corporate Employer, where I will be promoting (and then teaching!) children from the ages of five to fourteen the fine art of knitting.

Yes.

Five.

to.

Fourteen.

We’ll be knitting little critters, knit entirely in garter stitch (the good) and using simple techniques such as k2tog’s (the bad). I say that a bit sarcastically because I’m guessing a fourteen year old would get it–but, then, they’d probably also be bored to death with these lame little creatures.

Five-year-olds? Casting-on, knitting, knitting two together and binding off? Then crocheting little tentacle-legs for the octopuse and crochet circles for the poor Angelfish’s eyes? RIggggghhhhht.

even my critters look a little bit on the dorky side:

Oscar the Octopus & Andy the Angelfish hanging out.

Oscar the Octopus & Andy the Angelfish hanging out.

I’m curious about comments–lame? unreasonable expectations of the little ones? a total misfire of “cool factor” for tweeners? and teens?

I’ll be knitting into the wee hours, trying to improve poor Oscar and Andy, and attempting to have my example shape-swatches ready for tomorrow’s demo.

Just a bit. Three small hanks tonight, in fact. I do mean small, too: 36 yards, 22 yards and 20 yards. Pretty pinky-shades because I have a tone of pinkish-peach-etc. fiber from an Ugly Batt that I ordered on a whim some time ago. I will post pictures, I hope, soon, but right now they’re hanging in the shower, blocking.

I’d take pictures of the hanks hanging out in the shower, but really, it’s not pretty in my shower. Oh. I mean. That makes it sound like I have algae growing in my bathroom or something. I don’t. It’s just a shower with your usual shower features–simply doesn’t do the yarn justice.

My arms are quite sore from all the spinning–36 yards may not seem like much. Certainly not 20 or 22. But when you’ve spun them all in a matter of 2 hours (some of the singles were previously spun)…

Let’s see. Nothing new on the homefront. No pictures because I’m a lazy sort, too.

Awhile back I started this blog-resolution (sort of) to write/research about spinning in America–hand-spindling, to be exact, but wheels would be fine, too. Now I’m officially saving up for a wheel and I’m uber-excited about that. Though it appears I’ve abandoned the idea, I haven’t; yes, I tend to flit from here to there, and I tend to pick up projects and abandon them as quickly as I did them in the first place. Which is quickly.

I’m still kicking around ideas fo research to do with spindling. I learn new things about the art of spinning everyday… it’s the researching the history part that isn’t exactly thrilling me right now. It’s kind of baffling that so little research/study/commentary exists. Well. Maybe not.

It’s the whole “Big H” vs. “little h” history thing. Because Man writes History (historically speaking), things like housework, of course, become petty things, things that don’t magnify Man–in the opinion of Man. How the sweaters of fishermen came to be, or how the bloody socks of the U.S. Revolutionary War were knit by hand by loving mothers, sisters, daughters, wives and lovers–it doesn’t matter. The fact that Man fought the sea and won, conquered fish and ate, fought bloody battles and defeated nations… well. I suppose that’s much more important, eh?

I think of it as a tapestry; we are all tiny threads, and when our lives weave together our singularity: weak, fine and extremely thin: becomes part of a greater whole: a dense fabric, strog and warm, full of rich colors portraying, perhaps, a story through the tapestry’s larger picture. When one sees a tapestry, one most likely does not focus on one thread, or even one small group of thread: one focuses on the thing in its entirety. We do that in our human lives when we look at the humans around us. We have preconceptions and misconceptions about other nations, other cultures; or even within our own cultures, we stereotype on many ends. Our worldview stems beyond looking at one color or one section of the tapestry; we examine this thread of sub-culture or that thread of culture and that thread of ethnic identity.

Fascinating. Really. All that to say, I’m workig on deciphering the threads of the spinning sub-culture, folks.

So. It’s June. Wedding bells for a lot of people–thankfully not for me! But, in general, I appreciate love, and all that goes with it. The fact that I’m content with my singularity (Finally!!!) does not mean I don’t admire and appreciate those sorts who give it there all to someone else, commit and care for another being …

That’s why I’ve started listing these little angels:

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holding wedding bands with a love charm:

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