Spinster

From: Lorien
To: Tasha
Subject: RE:
Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2006 20:43:21 +0000

Hello Tasha,
You should check out the wonderful,
plied yarn hanging in the bathroom. Yes, that’s right, I plied my
yarn today and have winded, washed, and hung it up. FOR SHIZZLE
DUDE!!! I am SO pleased with myself. Making yarn is just the coolest
thing. I want to spin more right now! Except that I’m not going to.
I think I need to eat some food and then need to leave. I wonder
what I shall make with my tiny bit of yarn. There really isn’t very
much of it. I shall make something special. hahaha.

I hope work’s not too boring. See you later!

Love, Lorien

___________________________________________________

From: Tasha
To: Lorien
Subject: RE: RE:

Dude,

I am SO proud of you! Spinning is seriously like crack–once you start it’s really, really hard to stop! If you’re anything like me, once you start spinning with colors it’s even worse… Why would you clean your room when you COULD watch the blue fade into the green fade into the purple fade into the red… Why would you call home or cook dinner when you COULD *start* plying those full bobbins, just to see if two-ply or three-ply is the way to go with this yarn?

I have to warn you, though, that as I was introduced to one of the Rules of Spinning by my spinning teacher, so am I going to introduce you: you MUST make something out of your first handspun yarn. In my case, I had spun this very thick, practically ropy gray yarn, and I hated it (you know how I feel about colors versus neutrals). I also had a minor mishap while washing it in my friend’s washing machine, and the result was thick, ropy, felted gray yarn. I saved what I could of it, and ended up knitting a hat. This was right around my graduation from college, and my parents were visiting. We were in Washington State in May, at Mt. St. Helens, and it was HOT. My dad, he of the bald head, likes to wear hats, even wool hats, when he will be exposing the dome to the sun. My father totally stepped up to the plate and wore my ugly, handspun felted gray WOOL hat on our stifling, hot, sticky walk. Parental love (or fear of sunburn) is something else, huh?

Happy spinning,
Tasha

Skinny girls can SO have fat days. It’s more a state of being than a physical condition, but I still choose to refer to it as Fat Day^.

Let’s discuss the symptoms of Fat Day:

*I don’t have much of a sweet tooth; however, at work yesterday, I had numerous pieces of coffee cake instead of the applesauce I brought with me

*Last night, I ate nachos, spinach dip, and guacamole for dinner, with tiramisu for dessert

*I stopped at Second Cup for an iced chai this morning, and spent the rest of my walk to work muttering under my breath about how “if I wanted a watery, milky chai, I would’ve gone to Starbucks”

*My music of choice today is Elliott Smith, whose most uplifting lyrics are “I may not seem quite right/But I’m not fucked, not quite”; and who I always listen to when I want to hear menacing songs about alcoholism, as told from the perspective of the bottle itself (“Drink up with me now/Forget all about/The pressure of days/Do what I say/And I’ll make you okay/And drive them away/The images stuck in your head”)

*When I woke up this morning and looked at my knitting, I wanted to cry. I KNOW I’m not a perfectionist but I wish my knitting was. Why does it have to be wonky and crooked and awful? Why can’t I be good at anything?

^ Fat Day may also be known as DMS (During Menstruation Syndrome), when I have my period and therefore hate myself and my life and am inclined to eat massive quantities of both salty and sweet things because, to my hormone-addled brain, they cancel each other out and so it’s like I didn’t eat anything at all and can therefore indulge in even more chips/dip/ice cream/cookies. I am SO GLAD I’m on the Pill. What the hell did women do before hormone regulation? Oh, right. They were accused of being hysterical.