Is there a spy?
I got the following as part of an add for the Spin-Off Autumn Retreat, but it is like someone has been secretly watching me and taking notes...
"Does this sound familiar?
For years, you've had a secret, inexplicable yearning to make yarn-a subconscious desire that you've resisted, rationalized away, and pushed to the back of your mind. Things have happened, though, that make this resisting harder. Perhaps a good knitting friend has confessed a desire to learn how to spin, or maybe you just happened to attend a sheep and wool festival and couldn't tear yourself away from the spinning demonstrations that seemed to be occurring behind every barnyard door.
Or you've walked away from your local knitting shop with a bag full of unspun fiber-even though you're not quite sure what to do with the stuff-you just like the way it feels and smells.
Eventually your resistance has eroded, and you've finally been able to say aloud, "I want to make yarn. I need to make yarn. This yarn must be made."
So, you found some books, magazines, and websites and pored over them, wanting to learn the secrets-how to turn this insubstantial fuzz into yarn that can be knitted up into the gorgeous garments that dance across the insides of your eyelids at night as you're falling to sleep?"
So now do you see why I think there must be a spy? Or maybe it's a hidden camera. The spinning bug has bitten. I took a drop spindle spinning class at the Estes Park Wool Market, and now I want to take a wheel spinning class next year. You know what that leads to, don't you? Pining for my own spinning wheel! Just what I need since I have no free time as it is. And when I do craft, I feel guilty because there is always something more important I should be doing (like laundry, feeding the kids, etc.).
Well, I'm going to play with spinning anyway. I may not make it to the point of owning my own wheel, but you never know. Maybe I will.
My first spinning from right after Wool Market.
"Does this sound familiar?
For years, you've had a secret, inexplicable yearning to make yarn-a subconscious desire that you've resisted, rationalized away, and pushed to the back of your mind. Things have happened, though, that make this resisting harder. Perhaps a good knitting friend has confessed a desire to learn how to spin, or maybe you just happened to attend a sheep and wool festival and couldn't tear yourself away from the spinning demonstrations that seemed to be occurring behind every barnyard door.
Or you've walked away from your local knitting shop with a bag full of unspun fiber-even though you're not quite sure what to do with the stuff-you just like the way it feels and smells.
Eventually your resistance has eroded, and you've finally been able to say aloud, "I want to make yarn. I need to make yarn. This yarn must be made."
So, you found some books, magazines, and websites and pored over them, wanting to learn the secrets-how to turn this insubstantial fuzz into yarn that can be knitted up into the gorgeous garments that dance across the insides of your eyelids at night as you're falling to sleep?"
So now do you see why I think there must be a spy? Or maybe it's a hidden camera. The spinning bug has bitten. I took a drop spindle spinning class at the Estes Park Wool Market, and now I want to take a wheel spinning class next year. You know what that leads to, don't you? Pining for my own spinning wheel! Just what I need since I have no free time as it is. And when I do craft, I feel guilty because there is always something more important I should be doing (like laundry, feeding the kids, etc.).
Well, I'm going to play with spinning anyway. I may not make it to the point of owning my own wheel, but you never know. Maybe I will.
My first spinning from right after Wool Market.