I finally finished spinning the fiber I had blended by Morro about four years ago, half hogget Rambouillet and half alpaca. At the time I sent in for processing, I was unaware that alpaca fleeces are notoriously full of second cuts. The wool fleece had been skirted and since the alpaca had been washed before shearing, I just assumed it was ready to go.
It was a mistake that I have regretted. These are the neps just from this mornings spinning. Every day it has been like this so that what should have been a delight to spin has been the opposite. The yarn is fabulous, and in the end, that's what counts. But fool me one, shame on - what was that?
Anyway, I am packed, ready for tomorrow. I hate so much to pack and always try on everything I plan to take. I hate it when I unpack and realize that what fit me last time, doesn't fit now. It's a tedious way to pack, but I've learned that that extra step is worth it, and I can pack fewer things that way.
We're headed to SoCal, Redlands in the Inland Empire, which is a historic orange growing area, full of Victorian homes paid for by the lucrative orange shipments to the East Coast by rail. It's where my sister-in-law lives and where Ian's family assembles for New Years Eve. The next day we drive down to Gardenia, the Japanese area of Los Angeles, and celebrate with old friends from back in high school. A new storm is coming in but we think by leaving tomorrow we can miss driving in it.
Ian tried to resuscitate my iPod today. He worked and worked on it. It's been tempera-
mental for a while, requiring rebooting with more frequency. Today, it kicked up it's legs and clutched a lily to its chest. RIP my 20-gig old friend. You've been rode hard and put up wet. I thank you for your faithful five years of service. Your 160 gig replacement is on order. We've had some good times together.
Oh, and the debut novel that Ian selected this year: The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman. From the frontispiece, "Set against the gorgeous backdrop of Rome, Tom Rachman's wry, vibrant debut follows the topsy-turvy private lives of the reporters, editors, and executives of an international Englihs-language newspaper as they struggle to keep it - and themselves - afloat." It's written in the present tense and it promises to be a wonderful read.
Santa's Weaving Elves
21 hours ago