A Five Dollar Box of Guilt

This past weekend, several of our neighbors had a garage sale. It was one of those multi-family, take over the cul-de-sac kind of events – complete with a lemonade stand. Our own children chose a bake sale, and cleverly convinced Mrs. TSMK to purchase their raw materials and make their inventory. This is a fantastic business model, as it effectively reduces their cost of goods sold to $0.

I did not participate in the garage sale, although I did chaperone the bake sale for a period of time. I brought out a camping chair, and sat behind the young entrepreneurs offering reminders of how to make change. And picking wool. A lot of wool in fact. I’m about one bag through my original three bags full, and am starting to get the hang of it. Of course, I’ve since become some sort of a magnet for free fleece, so I have a long way to go before I’ll catch up with my inventory.

Like many (I hope), I occasionally find myself overwhelmed with the things I want to do, the things I need to do and the things I feel like I should do. Turning the fleece into usable yarn falls somewhere within intersection of things I want to do and things I feel like I should do. It isn’t exactly a need, but there is nevertheless a psychic cost to allowing the fleece to sit unattended. It is, in essence, a large, somewhat scratch and sheep-smelling albatross around my neck. And so, it feels good to be making headway on the fleece. More on that in posts ahead.

Anyway, I bring up the garage sale because while sitting there, minding my own business, picking my wool and fielding the occasional question from curious onlookers, one of my neighbors (“Fred”) approached me with a box. A reasonably large box, it was stuffed to the brim with yarn. Some of the yarn was crocheted into the start of something. Some of the yarn was still in skeins.

Fred offered up the box, complete with all contents, for $5. After a raised an eyebrow, he started to explain. When he and his wife (“Wilma”) were dating, she had begun to make him a blanket. As they dated, she worked on it from time to time. But ultimately, when they married, Wilma lost interest. Laughing, he suggested that perhaps she’d figured she didn’t need to finish the blanket because she’d already achieved her objective in making it – convincing him to stick around.

But Fred and Wilma had married about ten years ago. And ever since then, Wilma had been moving the box around from house to house, closet to closet, and feeling vaguely guilty about not finishing the project that whole time. Now, finally, it was time to let go of the project.

I bought the box, of course.  At 197 yards per skein, thirteen skeins in the box and a total purchase price of $5, this works out to roughly 5 yards per cent.  I'm too cheap to pass up that good of a deal.  But after buying it, I started thinking about the story told me, and of Wilma's decision to let go of the project.  This is a huge deal.

I know because I recently released an albatross of my own. She was a 1976 Alfa Romeo Spider that I’d had since college. Her name was Cecilia. Mrs. TSMK and I drove her all over the place for years, even left our wedding reception in her. She was fun, and fickle, and perhaps the most absurdly impractical car you could own. Back home in Florida, she made some sense. Here in the Pacific Northwest, however, she leaked like a sieve any time it rained (which is of course about 270 days a year). And she didn’t like to start. And she didn’t have a back seat.

I loved her. And I carried her with me from Florida to Washington, D.C., and then to our current home. Over the better part of two decades I held on to that gorgeous piece of steadily rusting sexiness.

But when she ran she didn’t run well. And often she didn’t run at all. So just a few weeks ago I said goodbye to Cecilia and sold her to a fellow from Portland who has the time and energy and disposable cash to make her lovely again. I miss her tremendously. But if I’m honest I also feel an immense sense of relief. I’ve removed one item from my list of things that I feel like I should do – restoring Cecilia. There are plenty of items remaining in that list, but again – it feels good to make headway.

~TSMK

Three Bags Full

I read recently, that law enforcement agencies in several states were quite upset about the apparently overt use of Craigslist for all manner of debauchery - but specifically for the advertising and solicitation of prostitution.

Now personally, I've always liked Craigslist. Not specifically because of its 21st century approach to the world's oldest profession, but generally because it seems to be a very efficient market and a convenient forum for bringing local buyers and sellers into contact. It was through a Craigslist ad that I found two of my motorcycles. One I bought two summers ago, and then subsequently sold last summer to acquire another I'd found on Craigslist (although I've regretted that second transaction ever since). Also, the site provides an interesting and seemingly anonymous forum for people to speak their minds - occasionally with hysterical results. All in all, I've been a Craigslist fan. But now, I'm starting to think that the apoplectic attorneys general may actually have a point. This is a forum most foul.

Three days ago, I was scanning the free items that were posted in the local Craigslist site. About halfway down the first page, something caught my eye: fleece. Specifically, the raw fleece from eight sheep. According to the posting, the owner simply wanted to get rid of the stuff. This was quite a conundrum.

For several weeks, I'd been considering buying a spinning wheel from my friend S ("SoD") K. She'd bought it some years before, and had lost interest in spinning (although she still knits like a Scandihoovian fiend). The price was good, and I was sorely tempted. I'd even gone so far as to make inquiries of a few local farms as to whether they ever sold their fleece. So far, I'd struck out on those inquiries - but that was OK because it meant I had a good excuse not to get the wheel - thereby hurtling myself headlong into a another series of projects.

But now, with fleece seemingly throwing itself at me like I can only imagine is the case for the ladies (and gentlemen, no doubt) of the evening on a different portion of the site. . . well what was a fellow to do?

I responded to the post. All was not yet lost. "Maybe they'll already be taken."

They weren't already taken. The nice lady who answered my email told me that she'd received a number of inquiries, and was thinking of dividing it up among those who'd responded. She gave me her address, and I told her I'd swing by that evening.

So, the entire TSMK clan piled into the car that night, and made its way out to the farm - which was only about 10 miles from our house. When we arrived, there were piles of plastic bags - the kind you might use to line an enormous trash can - covering most of the front walk. Each bag was stuffed to the brim with fleece.

We chatted briefly, and she told me that there was only one other person who was coming, and that I should take half the bags. A quick scan told me that half the bags on the walk wouldn't all fit in the car. So, we opted for three. Three bags full.

One of the bags is filled with creamy white virgin lambswool. A second is filled with fleece that is almost entirely black. The last has variegated wool ranging from graphite in color to a dark brown. Even raw, greasy from lanolin, reeking of sheep and riddled with all manner of vegetable matter, dirt and unmentionable detritus, this is gorgeous stuff.

Maybe this is the right time to mention that I do not know anything about processing wool or spinning. I plan to pick up the wheel this weekend. In the meantime, I have begun processing the fleece. I picked as much of the plants (etc.) out of about 1/3 of one of the bags, and washed that portion. At the moment, it's drying on Mrs. TSMK's dining room table. She says it looks like the most impressive "Furminator" commercial you could imagine. (http://www.furminator.com/) In addition, I've picked up some hand carders and have begun practicing. The Youtube videos make it look very easy. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zp_fIc5lCuk) They lie. It isn't easy. Still, I think it will come with practice.

Then, of course, there's the actual spinning. I've played a bit with a top whorl drop spindle, with mixed results. Youtube exhibitionists notwithstanding, I'm thinking about taking a lesson. Maybe I can find someone to teach me on Craigslist. . .

-TSMK