I should have told you first thing on Monday that the spinning mojo is back but here it is Wednesday and I’m just letting you know. Sorry. I got caught up in Oscar fever, what can I say? Anyway, both Rosie and Lucy were back in business by Thursday night. Dale took Lucy to the hardware store and they fixed her up with a 16¢ washer that did the trick. Big spender that he is, Dale bought a spare in case this happens again. Meanwhile, I procured some cotton rope at a different hardware store and Dale helped me install Rosie’s new drive band.

With both wheels fully functional again I was able to finish some yarn.

This incredibly soft merino/alpaca/silk blend is something that I bought from Indigo Moon at SPA 2006. I’ve got about 975 yards and I’d like to make a shawl from this. I’m currently debating Seraphim or Icarus, I just can’t decide. I’d love to hear from those of you who have knit either of these shawls.

I also finished the Spunky Eclectic superwash. I’ve got 350 yards there and it’s probably sport weight. Any suggestions for what to knit with this? Because, you know, making yarn is nice but knitting with it is even nicer. Right, Margene?

And speaking of Margene, tomorrow is March 1st and, while I’ve done plenty of spinning, it’s time to get the knitting done for Twisted Knitters. It’s a tough job. Sigh. But someone’s got to do it.

It wasn’t all about the shrimp at the Carole Knits Oscar party on Sunday night. We also had something that I know my fellow Rhinebeck attendees will be interested in. We had Arthichoke French.

Shortly after returning from Rhinebeck I searched out a recipe for this delicious way of eating artichokes. I cobbled together a few different things from the internets and came up with this.

3 cans artichokes
flour
3 eggs, beaten
Garlic
3/4 stick Butter
White Wine
Parmesan Cheese
Lemon Juice

Drain the artichokes and cut them in half. Dredge them in flour and then dip in the beaten eggs. Heat up some olive oil and a couple of cloves of garlic in a fry pan (I use cast iron, of course) and then fry the artichokes until browned. Place artichokes in a baking dish.
In a small sauce pan melt the butter. When the butter is melted pour in some white wine and then add some lemon juice. Let this boil for a bit until it’s reduced by about half and then pour it over the artichokes. Grate some Parmesan cheese over the whole thing and put it in the oven at 350 for about 30 minutes. Serve with French bread.

This is almost as good as the stuff we had at Rhinebeck and it makes a great appetizer or side dish. Enjoy!

Last night was Oscar night, a regular holiday at my house. As I’ve said before, this is MY superbowl. By 6 PM we were ready.

We had filled out our ballots.

We had champagne and shrimp, candles and bling.

We had dressed for the occasion.

I think Ellen Degeneres did a fabulous job as hostess – the best since Billy Crystal, frankly. The dresses went from the sublime – Helen Mirren – to the ridiculous – Penelope Cruz, but that’s what makes it so much fun to watch.

As for our predictions, I scored 9, Hannah scored 7, and Dale scored 5. I pride myself on being the real film buff of the family but Dale beat me on Best Picture. I guess he’s been paying attention after all!

Tulips from Dale for Valentine’s Day. Pretty, eh?

I think I’m under a mechanical black cloud. Right now, everything I touch breaks. Okay, not everything. Only spinning wheels. Sigh.

You remember how I mentioned that Rosie the Reeves needed a new drive band, right? Marcy thought she had some linen at home and she was going to bring that for us to use but she couldn’t find it. I wasn’t sure what was suitable for drive band material so I brought nothing. But then Marcy thought that the coopworth Laurie was spinning would work just fine if we triple plyed it. We tried that and I learned how to put on a new drive band. But it was stretchy and difficult and finally it broke. I searched high and low and asked every vendor in the fiber room at SPA if they had anything I could use for a drive band but no one did. Finally, though, another spinner came to my rescue with some mercerized cotton string. It was very very thin and we weren’t sure it would work but it did and I was good to go. I finished spinning the singles I showed you yesterday and when I got home I finished spinning the Indigo Moon I bought at last year’s SPA. Last night, while switching bobbins on Rosie, the drive band broke.

Snap.

The end.

There will be no spinning on Rosie until new drive band material is purchased.

Waaah.

This is when it’s beneficial to have multiple wheels, though. And, since it was plying I was after, I was okay with Rosie being out of commission because I always ply on Lucy. She’s got the Woolee Winder advantage, you know. So I sat down and started plying. Zipped right along and filled a whole bobbin. Switched bobbins and the tension string broke. I replaced that with some sugar ‘n cream and started plying some more. It was then I noticed the wheel had a wobble. Hmmm. I wonder when that started, thinks me. Then I noticed the wheel wobble getting worse and finally the whole thing sort of, well, fell apart. Seems like somewhere along the line (no way of knowing when) the piece (washer? bolt? nut? anyone out there with a Lendrum even know what I’m talking about?) that holds the upright and the wheel together had fallen off.

Gone.

The end.

There will be no spinning on Lucy until a new piece has been purchased.

Waaah.

I’ve still got Hot Lips the Hitchhiker and Abigail the Canadian Production Wheel. But you know what? I’m sort of afraid to touch them.

I’m so glad you all enjoyed the post about the Swingers. Let me just say to those of you who wish you had been there to see it in person: No. You don’t. Let’s move on, shall we? Let’s talk about the normal aspects of spa weekend. You know, the spinning and the stash enhancing. For there was lots and lots of both.

I brought my Reeves wheel with me for a couple of reasons. One was purely sentimental. Since I had bought Rosie at SPA last year it just seemed right to bring her back. The other was purely practical. Rosie needed a new drive band and I wanted Marcy to help me put one on. I won’t discuss the logistical difficulties of doing that without proper drive band material but I will say that I am very comfortable with replacing a drive band now because we did it about 3 times on Saturday. It was worth every moment, though, because I was able to spin this awesomely vibrant merino from Spunky Eclectic. Or, as Marcy called it, Funky Electric.

Four ounces of yummy singles, purchased on Friday night and spun on Saturday and Sunday. You gotta love instant gratification.

There was a bit of other fiber stash enhancing, too. I bought another hank of something gorgeous from Amy. What can I say except her color combinations are hard to resist.

You must remember the scarf I wore at Rhinebeck because I had it on in every photo taken of me that day. That scarf started out as an Indigo Moon brush stroke batt. And since I love that scarf so much, I decided another of those batts needed to come home with me.

Also irresistible was this orange merino/silk/alpaca blend. There’s only 7 ounces but I grabbed it while I could because Indigo Moon is going out of business. Word on the street is that MaryLynn is going back to school. Good for her. Bad for spinners.

I also scooped up a bag of bunny crack fiber from Kim. This is some of the softest stuff I’ve ever touched. I may not even spin it, I may just fondle it forever.

I’m sure you’re all sick of hearing about SPA by now so I’ll stop. Except to say, once again, that it was a fabulous, relaxing and over-the-top-fun weekend. Bring it on for 2008!

Blank screen. Blinking Cursor.

That’s what I’m looking at as I try to come up with appropriate words to describe the scene in the hotel lounge on Friday night. I’m trying to think of words that will convey my horror but I don’t want to be mean. Because if I tell you what I really think about the situation, it may come across as mean. Or perhaps even judgmental. And while I may sound that way, the truth is, it was highly entertaining. And maybe even a little scary.

What am I talking about, you ask? I’m talking about swinging. I’ll just let that sink in for a moment.

Yes, indeed. Apparently, the third Friday of the month is a “meet and greet” at the Doubletree for a local swinging group. I’m quite sure they were as surprised to find knitters and spinners in their midst as we were to find swingers in ours.

Just picture this: a bunch of us knit bloggers sitting at the bar, drinking beer, watching the people who were dancing. Just another Friday night at a club, right? Not really.

At first, we just thought they were sort of stuck in the 80s. Big hair, outdated clothing, tank tops and belly shirts and fishnet stockings. But the dancing was so over the top that we eventually realized there was more to it than a time warp. You’ve seen dirty dancing, so you have an idea of what I’m talking about but turn that up, say about twenty times, and you’ll get a mental picture of what we were watching. Because we were watching, make no mistake about it. It was like a train wreck – you know you shouldn’t look but you just can’t help yourself. I’ll just use two words: bumping and grinding. Take that to the nth degree and you’ll get the picture. I’m pretty sure it was all done to illustrate just how “bendy” each person could be. Ugh.

So I suppose I do sound judgmental. And I’m trying not to sound like that because I believe that everyone has a right to live their life in the way that makes them happy. And, as I already said, it was very very entertaining. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed so much. I don’t understand it, that’s true. But you know what? Whatever melts your butter, kids.

Just don’t get your butter on my knitting, okay?

Hello! I know I’m at little late posting today but I have a couple of good excuses. First of all, it’s a holiday and I don’t have to work so I slept a little later than I normally do. And second of all, I was away at SPA all weekend and I haven’t prepared my post yet. So, I’m late.

But, I had a wonderful time at New England Textile Arts annual gathering that’s affectionately known as SPA. I met up with old friends and made new ones, too. I spun a lot and bought some beautiful new fibers. I drank martinis and beer and ate Mexican food. Like any gathering of fibery friends, it was a fabulous experience and it sort of defies description. Most of you have done stuff like this, though, so you know what I’m saying.

I promise to regale you with stories as the week goes on but for now I’m going to have some coffee, catch up on some emails and blogs, and do a little more relaxing and spinning.

I’m just not ready to return to reality yet.

The plants at the library really thrive. Some people think it’s the fluorescent lights. But I think it’s because I don’t go near them.

In Dale’s family, Valentine’s Day is affectionately called “Cream Puff Day.” I still remember our first Valentine’s Day together, back in 1997. Dale and I used to meet at his house for lunch every day back then and he greeted me at the back door with a plate of cream puffs and the exclamation, “Happy Cream Puff Day, baby.” I asked him why we had cream puffs on Valentine’s Day and he said he didn’t know why but his mother always made them and it was a tradition.

Me being a librarian, I had to know the whole story so I walked next door and asked Dale’s mother, Ruthie, to explain the cream puff tradition. She told me that it dated back to Valentine’s Day, 1948. She and Dale’s father, Jack, who was in the Air Force, were stationed in Roswell, New Mexico (yes, that Roswell – but that’s another story) and she was pregnant with her first baby. They had no money to buy Valentines for anyone and she really wanted to do something special for the guys in Jack’s unit. So she turned to her cookbooks and looked for something she could bake to give as gifts to these men. She found a recipe for cream puffs and realized that she had all the ingredients on hand and they sounded pretty simple to make. And a tradition was born.

By the time I came along, Ruthie was making dozens of cream puffs every Valentine’s Day. She complained about how much work it was and how much time it took to make so many but I’m pretty sure she secretly loved the task. She made them for her and Jack plus their kids and grandkids. I was horrified when I realized that none of Dale’s kids even liked the cream puffs but Dale never told his mother because then she wouldn’t have given him as many. Then I tasted one and realized that sometimes a little deception is a wonderful thing.

During the last few years of Ruthie’s life, she was unable to make the cream puffs anymore. Jack, wanting to carry on the tradition, purchased them from a bakery instead but they just weren’t as good as Ruthie’s. So last year, on the first Valentine’s Day without dear Ruth, I made the cream puffs. I was a little hesitant to do this. After all, I’m not Ruthie’s daughter, I’m just her daughter-in-law and it seemed like I was maybe overstepping my bounds by taking on a family tradition as deep as this one. But Dale encouraged me to go for it and Jack said it would be okay – so I did it. I’ll never forget the look on Jack’s face when he tried one and said they were as good as Ruthie’s. And Dale’s sister Lisa’s eyes filled with tears when she took a bite of hers, so I guess I did okay by Ruthie’s cream puffs.

And now, somehow, this has become my tradition, too.