Fiber Arts Faire

Our little community puts on a Fiber Arts Faire every spring, and every spring I make my way there to pet, fondle, and smell the intoxicating aroma of -
- yarn.

(Yes, I know. It's sad.)

Thankfully for me, this year, I had several friends (*cough cough* fiber-possessed fiends) to hang out with. Yarn is so much more fun to enjoy when you have others to ooh and ahh over it.
Liz came with her children. Wonderful woman. She's raising her children right.

"Train up a child in the way she should go,
and when she is old
she will not think you're a dork
for knowing how to knit."
~ my version of a proverb

I was very good, and only bought one skein of yarn for myself. I will now sit back and listen to the gasps of astonishment and incredulity coming through the internet lines.

I'm all about self control. I have a marvelous grasp of self control.

Except when it comes to coffee.

Or tea.

Or chocolate.

Or yarn.

Except then. Otherwise, I'm good.

Anway, onward . . . .

Kim and I took a class about dyeing your own skein of yarn, which was a blast.
The fashionable aprons were lots of fun, and made me feel right in my element.
We each picked out some handspun merino wool yarn, soaked it in a pre-mixed vinegar/salt solution, and wrung it out until it was just damp. Then, we laid the damp skein onto some newspaper and started dyeing away with the dye that was already mixed into baby bottles.
Kim was very methodical and neat.


Me? Not so methodical.
Or neat. When we were done, we had to microwave the skeins of yarn for about 10 minutes to get the color to set. My chaotic mix of "oh look, yellow! oh look, green! oh look, purple!" made an interesting concoction that looks like a cross between poi and moldy spaghetti.
Kim's yarn came out the most gorgeous shade of bluish-green which will knit up into a stunning pair of socks.

Dork.