No matter how you spell it, fiber/fibre therapy is good for what ails me

2009 is The International Year of Natural Fibres!

While I was Raveling today, I stumbled on mention of this year as being the International Year of Natural Fibers (Fibres, to my Canadian and British brethren and sistren).

How exciting is that? I'm surrounded by sheep, goat, dog, cotton, and most likely cat (miss you, Spot, Django, and Foster Grant!) fibers here. I have too many knitting projects to keep track of ... most likely because I have some degree of ADD--oh, look! something shiny! My spinning wheel and drop spindles are ever-present and ever-ready. All 40 samples in the sheep study have been washed and are waiting their turn on the wheel or spindle. It's just fiberriffic!

When I picked up the needles after a lengthy hiatus, I just thought maybe I'd make a scarf or two with (*shudder*) eyelash, acrylic, or other "dead" yarn. The smooth flow of the yarn and the smooth action of the bamboo needles were soothing -- just the sort of therapy I could use.



So I bought some wool yarn and happened to mention to SpecialEd how many different types of yarn there were, and it wold be so cool to be able to knit something with yarn I'd made. I honestly wasn't dropping any hints. However, when Christmas rolled around, there was my Kromski Sonata and some Coopworth roving, just calling my name.



So here I am, two years later, so heavily addicted to fiber that I have to have a dose every day. Life is very good.

The only thing that could possibly make things better would be my own tiny flock of pocket-sized sheep.

Fiberlicious Birthday Present

In lieu of the standard pictures of my boys (2) and dogs (2), here's a shot of some wonderful merino in a sage colorway -- part of a fiberlicious birthday present from my mother. I'm so impressed: she actually bought this (plus fawn alpaca, cream alpaca, and a salt-and-pepper Norwegian wool) online. Nicely done!

The whole fiber thing started innocently enough with a renewed interest in knitting. In a futile effort to get me to broaden my horizons, my spouse gave me a Kromski Sonata spinning wheel for Christmas. Big mistake.

I have bags of wool that cry out to me everytime I walk by, "Spiiiiinnnn me!" If it weren't for the pesky need to eat, sleep, write, and earn money to buy more to spin, I'd be spinning nonstop. Like baking bread, there's something that's just so fulfilling about spinning individual fibers into a slender cord, then plying two cords together to make yarn, and making a wonderful twisty skein that you can point to with pride, "I made that!" Yes, I know the animals that grew the fibers actually made the fibers; however, I took a mass of miscellaneous fibers and made them bend to my will. Ah ha ha ha ha! [That's supposed to be a megalomaniacal laugh, BTW.]

After bathing sons 1 and 2, dealing with the week's trash, and making sure there's clean clothes for everyone to wear tomorrow, I'll be able to get back to my fiber therapy!